Page 86 of Feared

Mary recoiled in shock. She never would have expected that there would be protestors at the funeral. She hadn’t heard that any of John’s friends were organizing on his behalf and there would be no reason to. She scanned their angry faces, but none of them seemed like the types of persons who John would have been friends with. His friends were lawyers andbusinesspeople his own age, and these protestors were younger and on the fringe. Suddenly she realized they weren’t real protestors at all, but they must have been sent by Machiavelli. He must have paid them to disrupt the funeral, and the depth of his depravity enraged her.

Funeral home attendants rushed to make way for mourners to pass, but the protesters outnumbered them, blocking their path, pumping signs, and chanting, “Justice for John! Justice for John! Justice for John!” The reporters filmed the mob scene with cell phones and video cameras. Traffic on the street slowed to a stop, and drivers rubbernecked at the scene.

Suddenly the protesters targeted Judy, surging toward her and jostling William in his wheelchair. William cried out in fear and curled into a ball, frantically protecting the urn in his lap. Protestors shouted at Judy, as if William weren’t even there, “You killed John! You killed John! Justice for John! Justice for John!”

“No, get back!” Judy flailed, trying to wave them away from William.

“Judy! Pop!” Mary hurried to help, but Anthony blocked her.

“No, it’s not safe for you. I got this. Stay here.” Anthony rushed forward with Bennie, Lou, Anne, Marshall, and the funeral attendants. They reached Judy and William and tried to push back the protestors, who kept chanting.

“Justice for John! Justice for John! Justice for John!”

A group of mourners including Jim and Sanjay were able to slip away, but Mary saw with horror that the older people were getting shoved around in the melee. Pigeon Tony got swallowed up by the crowd, and Feet’s Mr. Potatohead glasses popped off. John’s Uncle Mel threw his arms around his wife, Susan, hobbling in her black boot from her broken ankle, and Mary’s mother tried to help her, she was only four feet eleven inches tall.

Mary couldn’t stand by another second. She rushed off the step, pushed into the crowd, and hurried to her mother, gathering her in her arms as they were jostled left and right by the protestors, shouting their slogan.

“Justice for John! Justice for John! Justice for John!”

“Leave us alone!” Mary shouted at a female protester, hugging her mother close. “You work for Machiavelli, don’t you? He sent you, didn’t he? You should be ashamed of yourself!”

“Justice for John!” the female protester shouted back, mechanically. “Justice for John! Justice for John!”

“John, who?” Mary shot back, spitting mad. “Do you even know his last name? What is it?”

“Justice for John!” the female protestor replied, on autopilot. “Justice for John! Justice for John!”

“You’re a killer!” A male protester rushed to confront Mary. “You don’t want the truth to come out! You’re in the lawyer conspiracy!”

“Get out of here!” Mary yelled back, and the male protestor was about to grab Mary’s arm when Anthony flew out of nowhere, grabbed his arm, and punched him in the face.

“Keep your hands off my wife!” Anthony’s face contorted with anger, and behind him Bennie, Lou, Marshall, Anne, and the funeral attendants had succeeded in hustling Judy, William, The Tonys, and the Hodges away from the protestors and down the sidewalk.

“Babe, follow them!” Anthony took her right arm, and her father scooped up her mother, a bloody cut over his eye.

“Pop!” Mary gasped, horrified. “Are you hurt?”

“GO, MARE! GO!”

Mary took off with Anthony and her parents, and the funeral attendants formed a protective shell around them, getting them down the sidewalk and keeping the protestors at bay. A police cruiser raced to the scene, and two uniformed cops leapt out.The police contained the protesters, with the press behind filming away.

“Justice for John! Justice for John!” the protestors chanted, until the sirens swallowed their hollow cries.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

The restaurant was a few blocks from the funeral home, and the shaken circle of family and friends went there together, on foot and by wheelchair. The trip seemed to settle everybody down, and by the time they reached the restaurant, they were shown to a lovely private dining room, where a long banquet table had been set with arugula-and-goat-cheese salads and abundant antipasto platters of cold cuts and cheeses.

Mary’s parents, The Tonys, the Hodges, and Judy sat down with William on the end in his wheelchair while Mary, Anthony, Bennie, Anne, Lou, and Marshall hovered over them, making sure they were okay. The Hodges sat close to each other, their lined faces masks of grief and sadness. They were otherwise an attractive and refined couple with gold wire-rimmed glasses and fluffy gray hair, and they looked well-heeled in dark wool suits. Feet had found his Mr. Potatohead glasses, but he seemed upset, and Pigeon Tony and Tony-From-Down-The-Block hadn’t bounced back yet, since they hadn’t even touched the salami-and-pepperoni antipasto.

Bennie asked the waiters to keep water, wine, and beer coming, and Mary got her father a whiskey and a Band-Aid, which she and her mother used to cover the cut on his forehead.Luckily, it wasn’t serious, so Mary’s blood pressure returned to normal, and Anthony put a hand on her shoulder.

“Mary, please sit down. You need to get off your feet.”

“I will in a minute.” Mary patted his arm, noticing the redness on his hand from punching the protester. “How’s your hand, honey? I can’t believe you hit that guy.”

“I can’t either.” Anthony forced a smile, pulling out her chair. “Honey, please sit.”

“Thanks.” Mary sat down, eyed her father. “Pop, you sure you’re okay?”

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