in obediently behind, shuffling out like an exhausted conga line suddenly weary of the song.
Surprised by Aunt Lil's sudden surrender, T.S. stood staring after the line of slowly departing diners. He had expected her to kick up a fuss, to demand that she be allowed to examine the body. Simply leaving was not in her character at all. Had the lure of a dramatic exit been that much temptation? Somehow he just didn't think so.
"Perhaps you had better go after your aunt," Father Stebbins suggested, plucking at T.S.'s shirt sleeve. "We have enough people to clean up." Fran was marching back into the kitchen, gesturing for the younger volunteers to join her. Having sensed an opportunity to regain supremacy, if only over sinks of dirty pots, she was happy to seize her chance.
More police were arriving and one pair toted a depressingly green canvas stretcher with what looked like a rubber tarp piled on top. T.S. suddenly wanted very much to leave the scene of the death. "Thank you. I'll just make sure Aunt Lil is okay," he told Father Stebbins, his feet skimming across the linoleum in his haste to escape.
The minute he hit the sidewalk he saw the women clustered in a whispering, tightly drawn group a few feet down from the church. Auntie Lil stood at the center, surrounded by Adelle and her followers, and her arms rose and fell dramatically as she addressed the group. Some of the others looked shell-shocked and one or two dabbed at their eyes with hankies. Most stared at Auntie Lil.
T.S.'s stomach tightened a notch. He'd known that something was up when Auntie Lil conceded the battle so quickly. He must have missed a secret signal between the women. You had to watch that Auntie Lil every moment. She was as sneaky as a smart three-year-old. Well, he might as well go ahead and pull her out of trouble one more time.
Unobserved, he sidled over to eavesdrop. It was worse than he'd expected. Auntie Lil was reenacting Emily's death.
"She clutched her throat like this," Auntie Lil insisted, grabbing at her bright scarf. "Her face was blue and her tongue was sticking out like this." She groaned and fell back in exaggerated agony before being caught by a pair of alert old actresses.
"No, no,” Adelle insisted with majestic conviction. "Her tongue was not out, and she did not simply fall back. Nor did she clutch her throat. She did this." Adelle swept an area clear with her arm, held her hands out in supplication, tightened both her face and throat, and began to shudder. The effect was grotesque and startling, but T.S. had to give Adelle credit. The old actress was pretty good. She'd even managed to steal the scene from Auntie Lil.
A few passers-by slowed to eye the scene with concern as Adelle revved up her gyrations. Perhaps it was time to step in.
"Excellent. That was a marvelous reenactment," T.S. told the group grimly, wading in and gripping Auntie Lil's elbow. He would nip this nonsense in the bud. "But what exactly is the point of these macabre charades?"
Auntie Lil shook off his touch like a terrier dropping a snake, and drew herself erect. "We're just verifying that it was a heart attack and not something more sinister." She did not like to be babied in any way, shape or form. Especially in front of other old ladies.
A depressing parade suddenly emerged through the basement entrance. Two bored-looking men in khaki jumpsuits led the way, toting a large heavy plastic bag on the stretcher between them. They were followed by the glowering Officer King, his petite partner and three other uniformed cops. The procession marched glumly over to a blue station wagon and the body was loaded into the back. All five policemen stood near the hood of the car, passing sour expressions between them as if they were searching for the solution to a particularly distasteful dilemma. Just then, Officer King spotted Auntie Lil and the other old ladies. He stared at them for a moment, a curtain of angry wrinkles descending on his furrowed brow. He reached out one hand and very, very slowly crooked his finger, beckoning them forward with unmistakable authority.
"What's he want?" someone muttered. "The bully."
"I guess he needs our help after all," Auntie Lil murmured sweetly. She was going to enjoy this as much as she could. Genteel revenge was her specialty.
"Let's make him beg," Adelle suggested, prompting T.S. to grab Auntie Lil by the