The Silver Lake Murder Gregg Matthews (i can read book club TXT) 📖

customer wants; he does the best he can to design the two different stencils. He applies the stencil to the first young man’s shoulder. He has to hold up a small hand mirror for the customer.

“Looks good, OK?” Blake says.

“Yes,” the young man says nervously.

“Stay still, and I will get this done quickly.”

“OK.”

The buzzing sound of the tattoo needle begins. One at a time, he processes the two young men through the shop. Pressing the wad of cash in his right front pocket makes him think the money is beginning to flow. He can now start to refocus on what he saw when he first drove back into town.

Night has fallen. It has been a very good and productive day. He logs into his computer and checks the local obituary listings. Fitzgerald’s Funeral Parlor Route 38 Silver Lake announcements: Cindy Flynn.

CHAPTER 5

Blake showers up after working all day and gets dressed. He puts on his usual clothes, plus, a clean button-up shirt and sportscoat he retrieved from the trunk of his car. Driving along Route 38, he sees the new sign to his left, Welcome to Silver Lake.He cannot erase the memories from his mind, picturing Cindy Flynn’s beaten and bloodied body lying dead under the sign. It sends chills up and down his spine. The memory of her is going to be with him for a long time.

His temper flairs, he again makes a promise to himself, he is going to find out who is responsible for killing her. He is going to make sure he delivers his own version of Silver Lake justice to the person or persons responsible for killing her.

Revenge will happen at a later date and time. Tonight, he needs to pay his respects to Cindy and her family. Driving past the front of the lake, he looks to the left and can see the sun hanging high over the lake water. In a few hours, the sun will set.

After driving past the lake, he looks to the left, where he sees the old familiar fencing. The area next to the lake is surrounded by old heavy wrought iron fencing. The fence is at least six feet high. The way into the area is through the main entrance. The main entrance has two stone pillars on either side. The stone pillars are twenty feet high and ten feet in circumference. Across the top of the pillars, there is more wrought iron fencing arching across the top of the two pilers over the main entrance. Looking over the main entrance, he reads the white lettered sign, Silver Lake Cemetery. He keeps driving.

Across the street from the cemetery, an old wooden sign white with gold peeling letters spells out Fitzgerald’s Funeral Parlor. He tries to pull into the parking lot on the right side of the road and soon realizes there are no open parking spots. He quickly exits and parks in front of the furthest car on the right-side shoulder of Route 38. He takes his time walking down Route 38 to the funeral parlor.

The line of people wraps around the big, old Victorian house with several garages in the back with several older hearses and limousines parked. The funeral parlors main room is on the first floor. The embalming and preparation of the dead bodies is done in the basement. The Fitzgerald family members live on the second and third floors. He went to school with one of the kids, Colleen Fitzgerald. Colleen grew up in this house, and over the years Blake has been in every room of the house. He has no choice; he has to wait inthe long line of people and show his face.

Waiting in line, he can see people from years ago turning and looking in his direction. He hears his name, Blake Rivers, being passed up the line. The line moves slowly; he watches as the setting sun on the back of the lake fades, and a dark-gray dusk is consuming the sky over the lake area. He keeps creeping forward in the line until he sees a doorway. Struggling to look inside to see what’s going on is unsuccessful.

After an hour or so, he is able to step inside the funeral parlor. He can hear the sounds of a piano being played as delicately as possible. The lights are dim, and the décor is rich and lavish. The style is from years gone by. He can hear people crying and whispering. Several heads turn in his direction as he creeps up closer to the coffin.

He sees Cindy’s face but looks away. As he does, another face comes into focus, a disheveled version of his childhood friend Billy Flynn. Billy is standing at the end of the receiving line with his mother and other family members. He steps closer to the coffin; he is next to pay his respects. He steps up and kneels down on the small altar in front of the coffin. Leaning his head forward, he closes his eyes and says the part of a prayer he can remember. Our father who art in heaven hallowed be thy name….

As he looks deeper into the coffin, he can see Cindy’s hands are folded on her stomach. He looks behind him, and everyone seems preoccupied. He moves his head

forward and looks closer into the coffin. He sees one of Cindy’s hands has the crude outline tattoo of a Jackal in between her thumb and index finger. He looks behind him and can see Billy staring intently at him. He stands up from the altar.

Working his way through the receiving line of friends and family members, he can hardly hear what the young women in the line are saying to him, but is pretty sure they worked with Cindy. He works his way through the line quickly and gets to Mrs. Flynn.

“Blake Rivers?” a small, frail version of Mrs. Flynn says with open arms, giving him a big hug.

He notices some people in the room turn and look