Found Money - James Grippando [15]
Now all she had to do was find the right Jeanette Duffy.
7
The kitchen smelled of corned beef and cabbage. So did the dining room. The living room, too. The whole house smelled of it. It was a Duffy family tradition going back as far as Ryan could remember, which was his grandfather’s funeral. Just as soon as the body was in the ground, they’d file back to the house and stuff themselves, as if to prove that nothing was depressing enough to ruin a good meal. Somebody always brought corned beef and cabbage. Hell, anyone who could turn on an oven brought corned beef and cabbage.
Dad didn’t even like corned beef and cabbage. Not that it mattered. Dad was gone. Forever.
“Your father was a good man, Ryan.” It was Josh Colburn, the family lawyer. He’d been every family’s lawyer for the last fifty years. He was no Clarence Darrow, but he was an honest man, an old-school lawyer who considered the law a sacred profession. It was no wonder his dearly departed client’s last will and testament had made no mention of the stash in the attic. Colburn was the last person Dad would have told.
He was back in the buffet line before Ryan could thank him for the kind words.
Apart from the guests’ black attire, the post-cemetery gathering had lost any discernible connection to a funeral. It had begun somberly enough, with scattered groups of friends and relatives quietly remembering Frank Duffy. As the crowd grew, so did the noise level. The small groups expanded from three or four to six or eight, until the house was so crowded it was impossible to tell where one group left off and the other started. The food had broken whatever ice remained—tons of food from mutton to whitefish, dumplings to trifle. Before long, someone was playing “Danny Boy” on the old upright piano, and Uncle Kevin was pouring shots of Jameson’s, toasting his dearly departed brother and days gone by.
Ryan didn’t join in. He just kept moving from room to room, knowing that if he stood still he’d be locked in conversation with someone he had no interest in talking to. In fact, he had no interest in talking to anyone. Except his mother.
Ryan had been watching her closely all day, ever since that eulogy that had moved everyone to tears—everyone but Jeanette Duffy. She had a detached look about her. In some ways it seemed normal. She wouldn’t be the first widow to walk numbly through her husband’s funeral. It was just so unlike his mother. She was an emotional woman, the kind who’d seen It’s a Wonderful Life at least fifty times and still cried every time Clarence got his wings.
Ryan caught her eye from across the room. She looked away.
“Eat something, Ryan.” His aunt was pushing a plate of food toward him.
“No, thanks. I’m not really hungry.”
“You don’t know what you’re missing.”
“Really, I’m not hungry.” Through the crowd, he tried to catch his mother’s eye again, but she wouldn’t look his way. He glanced down at his four-foot-ten-inch aunt. “Aunt Angie, does Mom seem okay to you?”
“Okay? I guess so. This is a very tough time for her, Ryan. Your father is the only man she ever—you know. Loved. What they had was special. They were like one person.”
He glanced at his mother, then back at his aunt. “I don’t suppose they would have kept any secrets from each other, would they?”
“I wouldn’t think so. No, definitely not. Not Frank and Jeanette.”
Ryan was staring in his mother’s direction, but he’d lost focus. He was deep in thought.
His aunt touched his hand. “Are you all right, darling?”
“I’m fine,” he said vaguely. “I think I just need some air. Will you excuse me a minute?” He started across the living room, toward the front door, then stopped. He sensed his mother was watching. He turned and caught her eye. This time she didn’t look away.
Ryan worked his way back through the crowd toward the dining room. His mother was standing at the head of the table full of food, busily cutting a piece of corned beef into