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funeral was later in the afternoon and people were at the
Feldmans’ house because they would be going to the funeral as a
group. People clustered like flocks of geese whenever there was a
funeral.
He hadn’t talked to Bill or Coffey or Ramirez or Todd or Amber or
even his parents. There were no pizza boxes on the living room
floor and no leftover Chinese in the refrigerator because he hadn’t
been hungry. Vodka was enough and he drank until the
Feldmans’ house was a blur. Across the street, he saw a woman
walk out of their house to smoke a cigarette. She was wearing a
black dress and Kevin wondered if she knew the Feldmans yelled
at neighborhood kids.
He watched the woman because he didn’t want to watch the home
and garden channel on the television. Erin used to watch that
channel but she ran away to Philadelphia and called herself Erica
and then she disappeared and he’d been suspended from his job
but before that he’d been a good detective.
The woman in black finished her cigarette and dropped it in the
grass and stepped on it. She scanned the street and noticed him
sitting on the porch. She hesitated before crossing the street
toward him. He didn’t know her; had never seen her before.
He didn’t know what she wanted but he put the bottle down and
climbed down the porch steps. She stopped on the sidewalk out
front.
“Are you Kevin Tierney?” the woman asked.
“Yes,” he said, and his voice sounded strange because he hadn’t
spoken in days.
“I’m Karen Feldman,” she said. “My parents live across the street.
Larry and Gladys Feldman?” She paused but Kevin said nothing
and she went on. “I was just wondering if Erin was planning to
attend the funeral.”