Irish Milkshake Murder by Carlene O'Connor

Author:Carlene O'Connor
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington Books
Published: 2023-10-05T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

Lionel Dunes’s funeral, held beneath the somber gaze of the saints whose lives were commemorated in St. Willibrod’s impressive stained-glass windows, had been well-attended. Residents of Arborville, who knew him from his volunteer work at the church and elsewhere, had turned out in great numbers, as had his colleagues at the Timberley accounting firm where he had been a partner. His wife’s colleagues from Wendelstaff College had been present as well—and many of the students involved in the sustainable living project, including Amos Clark.

At the ancient cemetery overlooking the Hudson River from the crest of the Palisades, Pamela and Bettina had picked their way over the faded grass—Pamela in sensible shoes and Bettina in elegant black suede pumps—to the grave that was to receive Lionel Dunes. They had watched as his coffin was lowered into the ground, where he joined the ranks of those who, even before Arborville became Arborville, now slumbered for eternity.

Now they were back at St. Willibrod’s, in the modern appendage that was the church hall. Voices echoed off the walls and the polished floor, merging into an indistinct hum, as people greeted each other and coalesced into chatting groups.

Food was available, however—lots of food. It was laid out on long tables at the far end of the room, near the apron of the stage, whose burgundy velvet curtains were now closed. Chatting groups formed and re-formed as people peeled off to investigate the buffet offerings. Bill, standing off to the side of the tables, caught sight of Pamela and Bettina and offered a discreet salute.

“I’m certainly ready for lunch,” Bettina confided, “after hiking all over that cemetery in my good shoes. Shall we see what’s available?” She peered toward the buffet table.

She set off across the floor, but she had taken only a few steps before she was accosted by a woman Pamela recognized as Bettina’s friend, Marlene Pepper. Marlene was a pleasant, if talkative, woman about the same age and shape as Bettina—though she lacked Bettina’s fashion sense. Today she was wearing a nondescript but respectable navy-blue skirt suit, in contrast to Bettina’s chic black crepe coatdress accessorized with a triple-strand pearl necklace and dangling pearl earrings.

“Quite the impressive turnout,” Marlene commented. “Of course, he was a longtime fixture in the community.”

She nodded toward a slender middle-aged woman garbed in a simple black sheath. The woman was disengaging herself from another woman, who had just hugged her and was now peering intently into her face.

“That’s Aileen Conway,” Marlene added. “Otherwise known as Mrs. Lionel Dunes. Do you know her?”

“Uh, no.” Bettina raised a hand to her mouth. Her nail polish today was a tasteful natural shade. “Poor thing! What a shock she’s had!”

“All alone now.” Marlene shook her head mournfully. “They had no children, though of course there are her students”—Marlene paused a moment, then went on—“like him.”

“Him,” Pamela realized, was Amos Clark, in a suit, as she’d noticed at the funeral. He stepped out from a small group milling around near Aileen—there seemed to be no formal arrangement for anything like a receiving line—and hugged her too.

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