Page 89 of Holmes Is Missing
“I am,” he said.
“Good,” said Marple. “Because there’s something I need you to know.”
“What’s that?” he asked.
“It’s a company personnel matter,” she said. “I’ve always had a firm policy against relationships between coworkers.”
Holmes looked puzzled. Marple stepped out onto the stone front step. Holmes lowered the hand holding the razor blade and let it fall to the ground with a light click. Marple moved in close. Very close. She slipped her arms around his neck and stood on her bare tiptoes to bring her face close to his.
“I thought you’dneverquit,” she said.
Then she tugged his head down, parted her lips, and kissed him.
Marple felt Holmes tense, then tremble. Then, slowly, he began to kiss her back. His arms went around her, pulling her tight against him, so tight that the breath went out of her. She could feel his heart pounding through his shirt. Then he pulled back.
“Margaret, what…?”
She put two fingers against his lips. “Stop. No questions. Not everything is a mystery, Brendan. Sometimes the truth is staring you right in the face.”
Holmes exhaled slowly and brushed her hair back from her forehead. “I’ve loved you since the day we met, Margaret,” he said.
Marple smiled. “See how simple that was?” She wrapped her hands around her ex-partner’s back and pressed her cheek against his chest. “I love you too.”
She couldn’t believe it had taken her so long to realize it.
CHAPTER95
“WE COMMEND THISchild into the hands of God. Now let us take him to his place of rest.”
The bishop’s final commendation rang out as sunlight speared through the stained glass of St. Patrick’s Cathedral. Marple stood next to Holmes in a back pew, her shoulder brushing his.
Across the aisle, Poe stood close to Helene Grey, a small mourning veil hiding her injuries. Virginia was in the pew just behind them, her streaked hair covered by a sheer black scarf.
Near the main altar, the exit procession was forming. From the loft above, a children’s choir sang “Kyrie Eleison,” their piercing voices resounding through the massive marble nave.
The service had been magnificent and heartbreaking—the Mass of the Angels, a Catholic ritual reserved only for the young and innocent. Now the procession was moving slowly down the center aisle, led by the bishop and a contingent of priests and deacons. The coffin was tiny and gleaming white, draped with delicate flowers.
Marple looked directly at Sterling Cade and his wife, Christine, walking a few paces behind their lost child. They staredstraight ahead. Marple could see Christine’s mascara streaking under her sheer black veil.
After the coffin passed, the congregants stepped out of the pews and followed the procession onto the steps.
The morning air was crisp and the sky was bright blue. The pallbearers carried baby Edwin Cade carefully down steps lined with New York City police officers. Marple spotted Officer Amy Polacco at the far end of the row, standing at attention in her dress blues, her white-gloved hand rigid in salute.
Captain Graham Duff waited alongside the police escort at the bottom of the steps. Dr. Revell Schulte was there too, with a team of nurses from St. Michael’s. Across the street, TV crews aimed cameras from a respectful distance.
As the pallbearers slid the tiny coffin into the white Mercedes hearse, Holmes leaned in toward Marple’s ear. “This is why,” he whispered.
“Whywhat?” Marple whispered back.
“Why I can’t do this anymore.”
Marple nodded. “I understand.” At least she tried to. But as she heard the sharp echo of the hearse doors closing,shefelt more determined than ever. She could not—wouldnot—let this death defeat her.
She felt a vibration from the phone in her bag. It was Dodgett, calling from London. Marple thought about letting it go to message, but then she eased her way past the police honor guard and stepped behind a column next to one of the cathedral’s massive side doors.
“Hello? Ben?”
“Margaret, I have fantastic news.”