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The ornate, Victorian-style church already held a number of people. Peter saw Jeannie Moffitt and Dutch’s kids and Dutch’s mother, and three rows behind them his own mother and father. Ushers—policemen—were escorting more people down the aisles.

“About—face,” Chief Inspector Dennis V. Coughlin ordered softly, and the pallbearers standing beside the casket turned around. “For-ward, march,” Coughlin said, and they marched back toward the altar, and then turned left, leaving Saint Dominic’s as they had entered it. They would reenter the church as the mass started, as part of the processional, and take places in the first row of pews on the left.

The nave of the church was full of flowers.

Peter wondered how much they had all cost, and whether there wasn’t something really sinful in all that money being spent on flowers.

****

Newt Gladstone pulled the Payne Cadillac to the curb in front of Saint Dominic’s. A young police officer with a mourning band crossing his badge opened the door, and Brewster, Patricia, and Foster Payne got out of the backseat as Amy and Matt got out of the front.

The young policeman leaned in the open front door. “Take the first right,” he ordered Newt. “Someone there will assign you a place in the procession.”

Patricia Payne took Matt’s arm and they walked up the short walk to the church door. Both sides of the flagstone walk were lined with policemen.

A lieutenant standing near the door with a clipboard in his hands approached them.

“May I have your invitations, please?” he asked.

“We don’t have any invitations,” Matt said.

“Our name is Payne,” Patricia said. “This is my son, Matthew. He is Captain Moffitt’s nephew.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the lieutenant said. “Family.”

He flipped sheets of paper on his clipboard, and ran his fingers down a list of typewritten names. His face grew troubled.

“Ma’am,” he said, uncomfortably, “I’ve only got one Payne on my list.”

“Then your list is wrong,” Matt said, bluntly.

“Let me see,” Patricia said, and looked at the clipboard. Her name was not on the list headed “FAMILY— Pews 2 through 6, Right Side.” Nor were Brewster’s, or Foster’s, or B.C.’s, or Amy’s. Just Matt’s.

“Well, no problem,” Patricia said. “Matt, you go sit with your Aunt Jean and your grandmother, and we’ll sit somewhere else.”

“You’re as much family as I am,” Matt said.

“No, Matt, not really,” Patricia Payne said.

“Is there some problem?” Brewster Payne asked, as he stepped closer.

“No,” Patricia said. “They just have Matt sitting with the Moffitts. We’ll sit somewhere else.”

The lieutenant looked even more uncomfortable.

“Ma’am, I’m afraid that all the seats are reserved.”

“What does that mean?” Patricia asked, calmly.

“Ma’am, they’re reserved for people with invitations,” he said.

“Mother,” Amy said. “Let’s just go!”

“Perhaps that would be best, Pat,” Brewster Payne said.

“Be quiet, the both of you,” Patricia snapped. “Lieutenant, is Chief Inspector Coughlin around here somewhere?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the lieutenant said. “He’s a pallbearer. I’m sure he’s here somewhere.”