Chapter Seventeen
Wednesday, 10:33 a.m.
Tara picked me up the next morning for Barry’s funeral so I wouldn’t have to walk. (Not that I minded the exercise, but I had no desire to be accosted by everyone in town for details about Barry’s death.) I wore a pair of dark jeans and a charcoal sweater beneath my peacoat, which had finally dried out. (I had managed to brush off most of the grime from Sergeant Poole’s aggressive parking job once it was no longer wet sludge.) Tara wore one of her usual cream-coloured tunics and dark leggings, but today she wore a black cardigan over top. She had even dyed the one strand of her French braid a subdued shade of dark blue.
The drive over to the town church had been quiet. My mind was still swirling with what the police had found behind my apartment t
