Chapter 8
“According to Katy,” I said, “Tom bought this plot right after they got married. She’s got the adjoining one.
Which I find a little odd. Their marriage was short-lived and tumultuous at best.” Eric chose a parking spot at the top of the largest hill in the cemetery.
It was the perfect vantage point. We were nowhere near any of the invited mourners, out of the way of their traffic flow, but able to see everyone who gathered around the grave overlooking a reflecting pond on the east side.
Eric got out of the car. As funerals go, Tom Loomis couldn’t have picked more perfect weather. We had a cloudless day and temps in the high sixties. April was only a few days away. I dared to hope we’d seen the last of winter weather, but you never know in Michigan.
I climbed out of the passenger seat and joined Eric at the hood of the car. He leaned over it, using it for stability as he aimed the zoom lens of his camera toward the small gathering down the hill.
“We’re lucky,” he said. “No tent set up.”
“Not even any chairs,” I said. All of Tom’s mourners stood forming two rows in front of his open grave.
The funeral director had set up an easel with Tom’s WLAN-7 headshot smiling at all of them.
The memorial service back at the funeral home had been far more chaotic with a larger turnout.
Here, only those considered closest to Tom had been given invitations.
Someone at the station had made all the arrangements.
“I count twenty,” Eric said. “Eight of his on-air colleagues. I recognize two pairs of neighbors. A handful are probably producers and that’s the station owner on the far right. The four left, I can’t say.”
Eric quickly snapped several photos of each mourner. We would sort out who they all were later.
The service was brief with no clergy members.
The funeral director himself led the group in a small, generic prayer and invited anyone who wanted to speak to come forward.
There was an awkward shuffling among the crowd.
Then, Gloria Blaine, a woman I recognized as the evening news anchor from one of the larger Detroit stations, stepped forward and said something. We were too far to make out her words.
After that, another woman I didn’t recognize stepped up and sang a clear, bright version of Ave Maria.
“This is just … sad,” I said. “There’s barely anyone here for him. He lived in Delphi for what, four years? Is Katy the only person he made a real connection with?”
“How well did you know the guy?”
“Barely,” I said. “It’s not like I had an incentive.
He helped break up my brother’s marriage.
All I really knew is that he had money. He let Katy spend it on whatever she wanted.
The first year they were together she spent it on plastic surgery.
She really did become a different person around him. ”
“Hmm,” Eric said. “Or maybe who she was with Tom is more who she really was. You just never know about people.”
“We’re supposed to be on her side, remember?” I said.
“Brutal objectivity,” he said. “That’s the marching order you gave me.”
“I know. I know.”
“Kind of inauspicious.” A female voice beside me made me jump. Eric whipped around. He hadn’t heard her approach either. I couldn’t tell where she’d come from. There were no other cars parked anywhere near us. How much had she overheard of our conversation?
“I’m actually kind of shocked,” the woman said. “I thought this guy was supposed to be mildly famous around here.”
“Are you a friend or just a gawker?” I asked.
She smiled. She was young. Probably in her late twenties, with straight brown hair, trendy blue cat-eye glasses, and a baggy pea coat that seemed a little heavy for the weather.
“A little of both,” she said. “I’m Tallon. Tallon Shipley.” She extended her hand to shake mine and then Eric’s. “So, you’re Cass Leary, huh?”
“I am.”
“Is it true you’re actually going to defend Katy Loomis at her murder trial?”
“I am,” I repeated.
She scrunched her face and nodded, as if she were impressed. “Bold choice,” she said. “She was married to your brother, wasn’t she?”
“She’s family,” I answered. “So you know who I am. Are you going to tell me who you are?”
“I think I did. Tallon Shipley.”
“What’s your business here?” Eric asked, putting his camera down.
“Tallon of Justice.” She smiled. “You’ve not heard of it?”
Eric and I gave each other a blank look. “Sorry,” I said. “No.”
“I suppose the name’s a little corny. But it makes it easier for people to remember me. But it’s Tallon with two Ls.”
“Tallon with two Ls,” Eric said. “How did you know Tom?”
“I’m a podcaster,” she said. “Tallon of Justice is the name of my show. I focus on true crime in the Midwest. I was up for a Sleuthy award for season one. I covered a wrongful conviction murder case up near Charlevoix. A nine-year-old girl? Found her weighted down and submerged? Last season I covered a cold case down in Ohio. Misidentified the victim, a seven-year-old boy.”
“You’re covering Tom’s murder?” Eric asked.
“Season three,” she said. “Total format change. This will be the first time I’ve done a case in real time as it unfolds. You’d make a terrific episode one guest, Ms. Leary.”
“Not interested. Sorry. I’m not at liberty to discuss my client’s case with anyone. Least of all, a reporter.”
“I’m not a reporter.”
“You might as well be,” I said.
“You’re planning to harass mourners at his graveside?” Eric asked.
“Are you?” she asked.
“I think we’re done here,” I said.
“Just a small quote,” she said. “A sound bite.”
“I told you,” I said. “No comment.”
“But you can at least confirm you are Katy Loomis’s defense lawyer. And you’re also the sister of her former husband. Doesn’t that present a conflict of interest?”
“My appearance is public record,” I said.
“Do you think your client is innocent?”
“Nice to meet you,” Eric said as he started packing up his equipment.
“We could work together, you know,” she said. “If your client is innocent, that means you need to find out who really killed Tom Loomis. I assume that’s why you’re here. I’ll admit it’s why I’m here. Running into you was a surprise. Or maybe it was fate.”
“Nice to meet you,” I said. “But I really do need to get going.”
She pulled out a business card and handed it to me. Her podcast name, Tallon of Justice, was printed on it in raised letters. Her logo had an eagle holding the scales of justice in one talon and a microphone in the other.
“I meant what I said; maybe we could help each other. If your client is innocent, nothing would make me happier than helping to prove it.”
“This case will be tried in court,” I said. “Not in the media or on your podcast.”
“I’ve asked around about you,” she said. “Everybody in town knows who you are. Or who your family is, anyway. There was a police report filed a few years ago. Your sister vandalized your client’s car?”
I bit my lip. When Vangie first found out Katy was cheating on Joe, she went a little feral against her. She dragged Emma into a lot of it. But that was eons ago. It bore no relevance to today.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m not your story.”
“Oh, I think you’re wrong. You’re kind of the hook right now. I mean, some people might assume you’d have a motive to tank your own client’s defense. She jilted your brother for the murder victim, didn’t she?”
“We’re done here,” I said, trying to keep my rising anger in check. I could not let this thing get away from me before it even started. I got into the car. Eric came around to the driver’s side and got in. Tallon with two Ls boldly leaned into my window.
“It was nice to meet you,” she said. “I promise I’m not trying to stir trouble. We could be allies. Truly. I just want the truth. But I am curious about your brother. Clearly, he has to be on board with you representing his ex. Is he the one who encouraged you to take the case?”
I steadied my breath. My Leary temper started to bubble. Eric put a hand on my arm.
“I assume he had an alibi,” she said. “Otherwise you’d never get involved in something like this, right?”
I rolled up my window and resisted the urge to flip a middle finger.
“I just want to make sure everyone involved does their job,” she said. “And I’m sure we’ll see each other again. There’s a lot of interest in this case. You’ll have your work cut out for you from what I hear.”
Eric started the engine and slowly moved forward along the spiraling gravel road leading to the cemetery’s exit. Tallon stood there with her hand held up in a stationary wave.
“Interesting kid,” Eric said.
“She’s got some brass balls on her,” I said. “I’ll give her that.”
Eric made the turn toward Finn Lake. “She’s fishing. Trying to get some reaction out of you. Playing gotcha for her little podcast. But … at the moment, she’s heading down the same path we are. Trying to get to know the victim.”
“He’s more of an enigma than I realized.
I think it’s worth a trip to Detroit to talk to Tom’s previous employers.
And the ones here. If, God forbid, something happened to you, this cemetery would be packed.
Where are all his people? That down there looked like people making an appearance.
Not anyone who cared much that they were burying him. ”
“You’re thinking like a detective, Cass. That’s supposed to be my job.”
“We have to catch a killer,” I said.
And we did. Even if it was my own client.