The Blues & Billie Armstrong 48
FUNERALS & OTHER ENDINGS
Previously in The Blues & Billie Armstrong…
Chief Timmons said. “I want all of you out of this room. I don’t want anything touched. I want this room sealed, boarded up, off limits until I can get some detectives in here.”
We all had to go to the funeral, for appearances if nothing else.
The too-familiar porch at Jones & Jones, my father in his gray suit, straining to show respect (and self-assured innocence) with as many solemn handshakes as he could distribute throughout the gathering. Grandma Junia flashing her superior frown in a swanky black outfit from a different era, pleated skirt and pillbox hat, a little half-veil in front of her eyes as if she’d been widowed again. And poor Darlene, all but dragged along, her red-eyed shame hidden behind dark dark sunglasses, desperately holding onto Laurette’s arm with every step.