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She drew in a shaky breath. “I won’t ever forget you. No matter how much I love Matt, I will always, always have a place in my heart that is empty because you’re gone.”
Tears spilled down her cheeks, and she scrubbed them away. “Okay. I should go. It’s getting dark. I just needed to see you after that meeting. I’ll be back soon.”
She pushed up, wiped off her knees and turned to head back to her car. She paused and considered that Lucy Cagle was buried here also. Along with a host of other well-known Nashvillians, like Donna Summer.
Finley was here. It wasn’t completely dark yet. She might as well drop by. Where to start her search? She surveyed the vast grounds.
She squinted, peered toward one of the mausoleums. Was that another person in the cemetery? She hadn’t seen another vehicle. Maybe she wasn’t the only one who liked breaking rules by being here after dark. Well, almost after dark.
She scanned the property once more and decided Lucy would likely be in one of the family mausoleums.
Finley’s parents had one. She started in that direction.
The other visitor lingered near one of the mausoleums. Male. Tall. Thankfully not wearing a hoodie or dark glasses. She surveyed the names on the mausoleums she passed. Some were square and squat, like a concrete bunker. Others were taller and brick, like an elegant tiny house designed for one, only some of those housed several family members. As she neared where the other visitor stood, she could see that he was standing by one of the larger, more elaborate mausoleums. The redbrick one with the black columns and iron doors.
Moving closer, she noted that the walls weren’t brick at all but a red granite or some other smooth, solid stone.
The man turned around as if he’d sensed her presence, and they both stood for a long moment staring at each other in the waning light.
Howard Brewer ... thecustodian.
“Hi.” She moistened her lips. “Finley O’Sullivan. We met today—”
“I remember.” He swiped his hands against his trousers as if he was nervous. Now that she was closer, she could see that beneath his coat he still wore the uniform he’d had on at the school today.
“I apologize for the intrusion. My husband is buried here, so ...” She tried to think what to say next, but nothing came to mind.
Another moment of silence and awkward eyeing of each other elapsed.
“I bring Lucy flowers sometimes,” he said, breaking the ice. “My wife is buried here too. Not in a mausoleum, but we bought plots when I first started working at the school. When they were affordable.”
Finley moved closer, noted the fresh flowers he’d placed at the iron door of the Cagle family mausoleum. “That’s very kind of you to bring her flowers.”
He nodded slowly. “She doesn’t have anyone else. It’s the least I can do.”
He was right. No siblings. Her parents were gone. Who would bring Lucy flowers if he didn’t? She had been gone a very long time. It was doubtful any of her school friends had time for her memory anymore. Lucy had brought food and gifts to this man when he had no one else. He no doubt felt at the very least he owed her flowers.
He looked around as if just noticing the looming darkness. “I should go.”
“Do you mind if I walk with you?” Finley was not one to waste an opportunity.
“It’s a free country.”
They walked slowly. For a few steps, Finley kept quiet. “This man Lucy was seeing,” she ventured, “did she ever mention meeting him at a car wash?”
“No, but I decided she must be going to one pretty often, ’cause her little car was always clean. I mean shiny clean. More so than usual. I teased her about it, and she got embarrassed. I felt bad about it, so I didn’t bring it up again.”
When they reached her Subaru, Finley paused. “Mr.Brewer—Howard—I spoke to a couple of Lucy’s closest friends, and they seemed to think you were particularly close to her. Maybe you saw her as a daughter.”
Finley decided it was best to temper the one friend’s words with more palatable terms.
“You can’t take everything those girls say for the gospel, Ms.O’Sullivan. They’re good girls, but they’ve got that fierce kind of competitiveness. Lucy was always one step ahead of them, and so they aren’t gonna look back and say the nicest things. You’d think it would pass with time, but for some it never does.”
“Should I be concerned they’re not telling me the whole truth?” The lamppost wasn’t giving off nearly enough light for her to see his face and eyes as clearly as she would have liked. The last of the daylight was gone now.
“I wouldn’t say they’re lying, just maybe highlighting the negative about the old competition. You gotta understand, in life Lucy was always achieving a little higher, always doing the good and right thing. Then, when she was murdered, she became like a saint. A martyr. The whole city, maybe even the state, cried for Lucy. No mere human can live up to that. Those girls don’t mean to be unkind, it’s just that old human weakness called jealousy.”
Finley supposed he had a point. “Do you think Lucy would have wanted to be remembered that way?”
