Chapter Twenty-One
Wednesday, 12:48 p.m.
Tara was in the middle of a lively re-enactment of her attack on Lily Fowler when I noticed Barb Myers standing nearby with a cup of punch in hand. She wore a pair of black dress pants and a matching Oxford shirt with a grey sweater vest. Even though her clothing was all in tailored, dark fabric, it did little to disguise her imposing frame. There was no sign of Sherri. (Which was hardly surprising, but disappointing nonetheless.) I nudged Tara into silence and gave Barb a nod of greeting.
“Hello, Zee,” Barb said with a restrained smile, as if she were holding back her usual bubbly one in respect for the funeral. “How are you holding up?” She placed her cup on the table and leaned over to gave me a rib-cracking hug. “I thought your eulogy was lov
