Stolen by PJ Adams

Author:PJ Adams [Adams, PJ]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: James Grieve Press
Published: 2018-08-29T16:00:00+00:00

13. Jimmy

He drove back for the funeral after talking to Penny Rayner, and arrived just in time to take the one remaining space in the crematorium’s parking lot.

He sat in the car for a time after cutting the engine, hands tight on the wheel. He was tempted to restart the engine and drive away again. He didn’t owe these people anything, and probably none of them wanted him here, or would even notice his absence.

As he sat there, he saw cars pulling up in the long lane leading into the crematorium, parking half on the roadway and partly on the grass, despite the No Parking signs. As Glenn had said, there was going to be a good turnout today.

Outside, people milled about, waiting for the signal to go in. He saw familiar faces, family members he vaguely recognized, acquaintances of his father. Also, there were a lot of people Jimmy didn’t know. So much time had passed since he’d regularly mixed with the people who formed the backdrop to Trevor Lazenby’s life. So much must have changed.

He hated that it got to him like this. That he had even the slightest fragment of interest in what he might have missed in the last ten years.

He should have said no to Doug Conner, that day when he’d led him out of the Section’s London offices so they could walk by the river and talk in confidence. The death of his father hadn’t so much been the perfect ‘in’ they’d joked about, but the perfect trap.

He’d been drawn, though, as Conner had known he would be. How could he stay away?

He stepped out of the car, and was instantly aware of eyes on him, conversations stalled, muttered comments.

He was the black sheep of the family, the one who’d turned away, the one who’d disappointed them all by going straight. Sometimes it really sucked to be the good guy.

He saw Uncle Frank standing by the main entrance to the chapel of rest, a cigarette cupped in one hand down by his side, looking uncomfortable in his suit. He stood with a couple of twenty- something guys Jimmy didn’t know, and a woman with metal-gray hair who clung to his arm who he didn’t know either. Had Frank remarried? It wasn’t in the file.

Frank himself looked much older than the sixty or so years he must now be. His face was pitted and gray, his thin silver hair shaved close to the scalp so it was little more than a fuzz. He was still a big man, but he looked smaller than Jimmy recalled. Shrunken.

He nodded toward his uncle and, after a very deliberate pause, Frank gave a brief dip of the head in return.

Jimmy and Frank had been close. The two of them and Glenn. In some ways Frank had been more a father to the boys than Trevor had been.

But now? Frank had turned away already, muttering something into the woman’s ear so that immediately her look flitted toward Jimmy before jumping away again.

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