Page 75 of Summers at the Saint
“Man,” KJ said, glancing over at the long line of mourners. “This is the first funeral I ever went to. Pretty intense, huh?”
“You’ve never been to a funeral?” Felice asked with disbelief. “All y’all’s folks just stay alive? I’ve been to a bunch of funerals. My mama’s, aunt’s, granddaddy’s, my uncles’, my big brother… but in my church, we call ’em homegoings.”
“I still remember my grandmother’s funeral,” Livvy said. “I was about eight, I think, and it didn’t strike me until a couple days later that she was really gone and that she was never coming back.”
“Kinda depressing, right?” KJ loosened his tie and removed the sport coat he’d worn.
“I need a drink. And some food,” Livvy said.
“Okay by me,” Felice agreed. “It was cool of Mrs. E to give us time off for the service. I say, let’s make the most of it while we can.”
“You ladies go ahead,” KJ said. “I’m gonna have to take a raincheck.”
“But you’re our ride home,” Livvy pointed out.
“Can’t you just Uber back?”
“An Uber back to the island costs, like, sixteen bucks,” Felice said. “That’s not in my budget.”
“Mine either,” Livvy chimed in.
“Fine.” KJ sighed dramatically and whipped a twenty-dollar bill out of his money clip. “The ride’s on me.”
“You mean it’s on your daddy,” Felice said, plucking the money from his fingers and tucking it in her purse.
The two women watched the Jeep pull out of the parking lot. “Where do you think he’s headed tonight?” Livvy asked.
“I think he’s got a boo thang he’s sneaking around with,” Felice said.
“Who do you think he’s hooking up with? Maybe a married woman?”
“Could be,” Felice said guardedly. “But you notice, he never talks about his love life.”
“Unlike Garrett, the total man ho who loves to talk about his hook-ups,” Livvy agreed.
They ended up at Pour Willy’s by unspoken agreement. They found a table near the front of the bar and ordered: rum and Coke with lime for Felice, a margarita for Livvy, and hamburgers for both of them.
Livvy looked around the long narrow room, which was starting to fill up, and leaned across the table to whisper. “Just think of it. Parrish’s killer could be right here in this bar.”
Felice shuddered. “I don’t wanna think like that. I wanna think about sinking my teeth into a big, juicy burger.” She turned and pointed at the server, headed in their direction with two plastic baskets containing their burgers and fries.
Livvy dumped ketchup onto her pile of French fries, then attacked her food. The two women ate in silence broken only by the sound of Livvy slurping her margarita.
When her burger was half-eaten, she took the blue notebook from her purse and opened it.
“Well?” Felice asked.
“I can only read like every other sentence, her handwriting was so bad, but I can’t believe the petty crap people complained to Parrishabout.” She flipped a few pages in the notebook and paused. “Here’s a woman bitching that the counselor at Little Minnows didn’t put enough sunblock on her kid. Isn’t that the mom’s job? The woman wanted the counselor fired!”
Livvy turned another couple of pages. “Here’s another. A guy complaining the air-conditioning vent was too close to his bed. Parrish actually had to send engineering up to their room to show him how to adjust the thermostat. And use the down comforter in the closet.”
“That’s the kind of crapyou’llbe dealing with now,” Felice said. “But did you find anything like a clue in that bitch book?”
Livvy flipped more pages. “Maybe? The mattress thing is kind of a puzzle. Colonel McBee wasn’t the only one complaining about that. Parrish logged two more complaints.”
“What else?”
“Some of the rooms on the new wing got a lot of complaints about the air-conditioning.”
