Blood Tears (48 page)

“
I
didn’t know the Bycrafts were Catholic,” I said, more to make
conversation than out of interest. I knew only too well that the
whole family were spawns of Satan. A church would probably explode
into a ball of flames if one of them set foot inside.

“
I’m
not quite convinced that they are, Officer,” he confessed. “They
didn’t seem to be very informed about the ceremonies of the
church.”

“
They’re not really known as church goers, I’m
afraid.”

“
Actually, and I hope I’m not being unjust when I say this,
but I found them rather intimidating, particularly Mrs Bycraft and
her daughter, Rosie. I didn’t quite feel I could refuse their
request to officiate, even though I’d never met any of the family
before.”
They’d probably picked the poor guy out of the phone
book
, I thought.

“
Senior Constable Fuller and I will be outside the gate for
the entire ceremony, if that sets your mind at rest.”

The priest breathed
such a loud and long sigh of relief that I felt instantly sorry for
him. I wondered what he’d feared they would do to him.

“
Oh
yes, oh yes. That certainly does. It certainly does.”

“
Um,
Father, we should probably let you know that there will be four
prisoners in attendance today,” I said.

He turned so pale, I
hovered my arm around his back, afraid he was about to faint.

“
There will be Corrective Services officers with them.
Unfortunately, they’ll be armed,” said the Sarge.

One wrinkled, veined
hand fluttered up to his chest. “Goodness me. I’ve never officiated
at a funeral ceremony where anyone had weapons. It seems most
inappropriate to me.”

“
It
really couldn’t be avoided, Father,” the Sarge explained. “The
prisoners are the father and three brothers of the deceased. And
prisoners released on leave to attend ceremonies such as this must
be escorted.”

“
I
see. Of course. But, goodness, what a lot of people to have in jail
from one family.”

“
There are others, but they’re cousins and uncles, so weren’t
given leave,” I told him conversationally. Perhaps that was a
mistake.

“
And-and you say you’ll stay right outside the gates the
entire ceremony?” he asked with a tremor in his voice.

“
Absolutely,” assured the Sarge. “And if we’re able to, we’ll
even escort you out of town afterwards, if you like.”

“
Thank you very much, Officer. That would be
wonderful.”

We arrived at the
Bycraft patch of the cemetery. The priest looked around at the
overgrown grass surrounding the freshly dug grave with even more
concern.

“
Have
there ever been reports of anyone being bitten by snakes around
here?” he asked the Sarge in a worried voice.

The Sarge silently
queried me over the top of the priest’s head. I held up three
fingers to show him how many times, as far as I knew, throughout
the town’s history.

“
No,
Father. None at all,” he assured the elderly man.

We exchanged another
glance, and I raised my eyebrows in surprise at him. It was
possibly the first time I’d ever witnessed him lie.

We heard the sound of
an engine and watched in solemn respect as a hearse made its way up
the path. Then we heard the rattling, coughing dissonance of a
convoy of crappy Bycraft cars heading down Dead End Street.

“
We
better get out of here,” the Sarge said. “Nice to meet you,
Father.”

We left that good
gentleman with worry creasing his face watching as the Bycrafts
approached
en masse
. At the gate, the Sarge stood in the
middle of the path, holding up a hand in that universal police
symbol of ‘stop’.

“
Get
out of the way, copper,” yelled Rick from out of the window of the
first car. I could see it contained Lola, Rosie, and
Larissa.

“
You’re not driving in here. It’s not a parking lot. Park on
the street,” he directed in his booming cop voice.

“
I’m
not walking all that way,” screeched Lola out of the passenger
window. “Run him over, Ricky. We don’t want no fucking pigs here
today.”

Unperturbed by that,
the Sarge stood his ground, his arms crossed, arm muscles bulging
with menace. I leaned on the gatepost, watching, but ready to jump
to his assistance if required.

“
We
warned you not to be here today, piglet bitch,” Rosie shouted from
the back seat.

“
I’m
not in the cemetery, am I?” I replied, giving her a sweet
smile.

“
You’re going to fucking regret this,” she seethed. “That’s
our Denny there waiting to be buried and you’re holding us up. Get
out of the way, copper.”

The Sarge ignored her
rant and waved his hands forward, indicating all the vehicles
should back up. With him refusing to move, they had no choice but
to reverse, causing traffic chaos in the cortege.

After about ten minutes
of swearing, minor prangs, and almost one bust up between cousins,
the Bycrafts started filing through the cemetery gates. The Sarge
and I stood at either side, enduring the looks of utter and
complete loathing each Bycraft gave us.

“
We’ll get you for this, bitch,” Rosie hissed at me as she
staggered on the path in her six-inch heeled shoes, Lola clinging
to her arm, customary cigarette in her mouth even now. Rosie wore a
tight, short black dress with a low cut bodice from which her
enormous boobs spilled.

“
Nice
outfit for a funeral. Very tasteful,” I commented, earning me a
rebuking look from the Sarge.

He came over to my
side. “I’ll send you to the car if you can’t behave yourself,” he
warned in a low voice.

“
Sorry, Dad,” I said, trying to hide my eyeroll from
him.

“
God!” he said in frustration, stalking back to his
side.

My heart thudded
uncontrollably when Jake walked through the gate, Dorrie hanging
off his arm. He was so beautiful, dressed in a dark suit that
complemented his honey-brown skin and golden hair. Like most of his
family, he stared at me as he passed by.

“
I
asked you not to come today, Tessie,” he said in a low voice as he
drew level.

“
I’m
sorry. I had no choice about it,” I replied, equally
low.

“
Come
on, Jakey,” urged Dorrie, pulling on his arm. “Don’t waste your
time talking to
her
.”

He shook her arm off
his with impatience. He glanced back over his shoulder at me,
before walking on, a sullen Dorrie scurrying in his wake.

“
What
was that about?” asked the Sarge, stalking over to my side
again.

“
How
would I know?” I replied, not wanting to talk about
Jake.

Luckily, I was saved
from any further third degree about it from him by the arrival of
the prison van. The Sarge waved it in through the gates.

Quentin, sitting in the
passenger seat and therefore on my side of the gate, gave me the
evil eye the entire slow drive through, a compliment I
returned.

Sarge once again joined
me and we leaned against the fence, shoulder to shoulder, watching
proceedings.

Another fifteen minutes
passed as the prisoners were let out to greet their family members
again. All four men were dressed fairly respectably in business
shirts, trousers and a strange assortment of ties that made me
wonder if they’d borrowed them. None of them were handcuffed. There
was much hugging, exclaiming, swearing, and shooting dirty looks at
Arepata, Quentin, and the Sarge and me. I noticed the funeral
director checking his watch, looking increasingly irked at the
continuing delays.

“
Why
are they letting them have physical contact?” I asked the Sarge,
not happy to see Lola clinging to Red. I couldn’t forget how deft
she was at passing him weapons.

“
Tess, relax. Before they get back in the van, I’ll ask those
officers to frisk them all. I’m sure that’s something they’d
routinely do anyway.”

“
Thanks, Sarge. That would make me feel better.”

He flicked the hair
that stuck out of the bottom of my cap, his fingers grazing my neck
in the process. “Worrywart.”

“
Who
me? Never.”

He patted my shoulder
and let his hand rest there for a moment, his fingers again grazing
my neck. “It’ll be over soon. Then you can breathe again.”

The ceremony finally
began. Even from where we stood, we could see the priest’s hands
shaking as he held his Bible. Because they had the attention span
of low-intelligence amoebas, the Bycrafts soon became restless as
the priest intoned. They started to talk to each other, check their
– probably stolen – phones, heckle Arapeta and Quentin, and quaff
from secreted hip flasks.

“
God,
look at them. They’re so revolting,” scorned the Sarge. “Can’t even
behave like civilised humans during their own relative’s funeral
ceremony.”

“
I
feel sorry for the priest.”

“
He’s
going to need a stiff drink after this experience.”

“
Speaking of stiff drinks, some of them are imbibing already.
You see those hip flasks?”

“
Sure
did,” he said. “But that’s the Bycrafts for you – always keeping it
classy.”

“
I’m
pretty sure I saw some of the prisoners take a few swigs
too.”

“
That’s the prison officers’ job to worry about, not
ours.”

“
They’re probably distracted by Rosie’s boobs.”

“
I
have to admit they caught my eye for a horrifying
moment.”

I whacked him on the
arm. “Don’t be a pervert.”

“
Hey,
I’m a single man now. I can look at all the boobs I want
to.”

“
I
better not catch you looking at mine.”

“
I’m
sneaky about looking at yours,” he laughed.

I whacked him again,
harder this time. “Stop it. Have you noticed Red?”

“
Hasn’t stopped looking at you the whole time.”

“
God,
I hate him so much.”

“
He’ll be back in prison tomorrow.”

We watched in disgust
as Mark stumbled and almost fell into the open grave, everybody
laughing at his near-drunk antics. The priest paused for a moment,
clearly upset by the sacrilege.
Poor Denny
, I thought sadly.
They didn’t care about him in life, and they don’t care about
him in death
.

“
At
least Jake’s behaving himself. I’ll give him points for
that.”

I hadn’t wanted to pay
him any attention, but the Sarge was right. Jake stood silently,
listening to what the priest said, sadness on his face.

“
He
keeps looking over here too, and I don’t think it’s me he’s looking
at,” the Sarge said in a neutral tone.

“
I
don’t care who or what he’s looking at,” I replied, before changing
the topic. “Hopefully they’ll drink so much tonight they’ll all
pass out.” I glanced up at him. “Want to do some breath testing at
the end of the road after the ceremony when they all start driving
away?”

“
Tess.”

“
Spoilsport.”

The priest persisted
for a while through the service, but when the noise became too loud
for his voice to be heard, he gave up and had a private word with
the funeral director.

The coffin was
positioned in place by the funeral director and his assistant, with
extra help from Jake and a couple of his relatives who he
death-stared into service. And after a few more words from the
priest, Denny was lowered into the ground for eternity, and the
ceremony was over.

“
Death is so final,” I mused, mostly to myself.

“
That’s why you have to enjoy life while you can,” advised the
Sarge.

“
It’s
not easy to sometimes.”

He put his arm around
me and squeezed my shoulders. “I know. But I also know it will get
better for you.”

I looked up at him and
met his deep blue eyes. Once again, I couldn’t seem to tear mine
away from the sincerity and warmth in his. But I forced myself to
lower my eyes to study my boots, though there was nothing remotely
interesting about them. “You keep saying that.”

He smiled and squeezed
my shoulders again. “That’s because I believe it.”

We waited patiently,
enduring more hostile glances and comments as the straggle of
Bycrafts left the cemetery. Jake passed by without saying anything,
but our eyes met all the way, so to me it seemed as though he
walked in slow motion.

When the last clunker
had driven away, and we’d turned a blind eye to the probable drink
drivers in the bunch, we strode up the path to greet the
priest.

“
Goodness me,” he breathed. “That was the most extraordinary
funeral I’ve ever officiated over. And I don’t mean that in a good
way. Goodness, that family. I’ve never seen so many people who
looked the same. I have no idea how anyone can tell them apart. And
the language! I’ve never heard such a thing at a funeral. And I
believe that some of those people were
drinking
. I’m going
to need a good strong cup of tea after this.”

“
Would you like to come back to the station for one until
you’ve recovered?” I offered.

“
That
would be very kind, Officer. Thank you.”