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52 5 Thurs­ day Alice Jones was bur­ ied ­ quickly and with lit­ tle fan­ fare. Fu­ neral ser­ vices were held in a mod­ est, ­ cement-block ev­ an­ gel­ i­ cal ­ church, a few ­ blocks from the ship­ yards. The walls and ceil­ ing of the claus­ tro­ pho­ bic sanc­ tu­ ary were des­ per­ ate for a fresh coat of paint. And de­ spite the best ef­ forts of two tall ra­ di­ a­ tors that ­ hissed ­ quietly in the back­ ground, an aura of damp­ ness and mil­ dew per­ meated the air. The ­ prompt ar­ rest of Petey Kin­ go­ vich sent a tan­ gible rip­ ple of re­ lief­ through Door ­ County. Peo­ ple ra­ tion­ al­ ized that Alice—cheap, taw­ dry Alice—had con­ trib­ uted to her own doom. They re­ gret­ ted that her death had been so grue­ some but as­ sured them­ selves that they—being so un­ like her—were im­ mune to such hor­ ror. ­ Barely re­ cov­ ered from the­ deaths of Wisby and Mack­ lin and now both wary of neg­ a­ tive pub­ lic­ ity and ­ shamed by the bru­ tal kill­ ing, the lo­ cals were eager to put this trag­ edy be­ hind them. Even the min­ is­ ter ­ talked eu­ phe­ mis­ ti­ cally of ­ Alice’s pass­ ing, as if her death had been lit­ tle more than an un­ an­ tic­ i­ pated tum­ ble ­ through a door­ way. The ­ victim’s be­ lea­ guered par­ ents, faced with the daunt­ ing task of rear­ ing five ­ younger chil­ dren, fum­ bled ­ through the ser­ vice dazed 53 and re­ signed, un­ com­ fort­ able in the new at­ tire pur­ chased for the day.­ Besides the sib­ lings, who cried through­ out the brief cer­ e­ mony, there were few mourn­ ers, only a hand­ ful, scat­ tered ­ amidst the ­ scratched­ wooden pews: sev­ eral di­ shev­ eled young men, in worn denim jack­ ets, clus­ tered to­ gether, shar­ ing a mu­ tual hang­ over; two ­ old-biddy neigh­ bors, smug and dis­ ap­ prov­ ing, whis­ pered con­ spir­ a­ to­ ri­ ally ­ across from them. To one side, ­ Alice’s posse of girl­ friends ­ dabbed ­ mascara-stained tis­ sues at their tears, un­ a­ ware that the out­ fits they wore, in­ deed their very best, were in­ ap­ pro­ pri­ ate fu­ neral at­ tire.­ Eloise had come, too, in open de­ fi­ ance of her ­ husband’s ­ wishes.­ Wrapped in a plain brown wool coat and with a beige scarf cov­ er­ ing her hair, she’d ­ braved ­ Beck’s wrath as well as the stiff north­ east wind that lam­ basted the pe­ nin­ sula and piled tall gray ­ clouds up ­ against the ho­ ri­ zon. ­ Seated ­ quietly to one side, she wit­ nessed the suf­ fer­ ing of this fam­ ily of strang­ ers, al­ lowed their pain to sup­ ple­ ment her own. Barry re­ mained at home, for­ bid­ den by his ­ father to at­ tend the fu­ neral. Beck had al­ lowed his son to talk a sec­ ond time with Hal­ ver­ son about the mur­ der, again with the fam­ ily law­ yer ­ present, and had kept the boy’s name out of the paper. Cu­ biak ­ slouched in the rear of the bleak ­ chapel. That morn­ ing John­ son had woken sick with flu, and the jun­ ior as­ sist­ ant had been del­ e­ gated to at­ tend the ser­ vice. He ­ agreed to go only as a show of re­ spect be­ cause Alice had made her tran­ si­ tion—an­ other of the ­ minister’s eu­ phe­ misms—in the park. It was worse than Cu­ biak had ex­ pected. ­ Alice’s cas­ ket was white, like ­ Alexis’s. Un­ set­ tled by the sight of the cof­ fin, he bore a look of such grim in­ ten­ sity that no one dared ap­ proach him. Af­ ter­ ward, as the other­ well-wishers fol­ lowed the pro­ ces­ sion ­ through the front door, Cu­ biak­ ducked out a side en­ trance. He ­ rushed full throt­ tle to­ ward the fresh liq­ uor bot­ tle in the back of his­ closet, but never made it past ­ Pechta’s. In true Pav­ lo­ vian style, he swung into the drive­ way, only ­ vaguely aware that the lot was empty and the...

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