Clara looked directly at Veronica.
“Tell me how he died.”
No answer.
“Was it an accident?”
Silence.
“Was he sick?”
One of Leonard’s business partners glanced toward the exit.
Clara’s voice sharpened. “Where is the death certificate?”
Veronica stepped closer to the casket. “The body was badly damaged. You don’t want to see him like that.”
Clara moved toward her.
“I cleaned his blood when he split his forehead open as a child. I carried him through fevers. I closed his father’s eyes. A mother knows her son.”
Veronica’s mouth trembled.
Only once.
Clara caught it.
“Open it.”
“No.”
“Open it, Veronica.”
“I SAID NO!”
Her scream stopped the gravediggers. One of them dropped his shovel.
Lawrence Cobb, the senior partner at Leonard’s firm, leaned toward Veronica. “Just do it. People are recording.”
Several phones were already raised.
Veronica looked around and clenched her jaw. “Fine. But whatever she sees is on her.”
The funeral director pulled the wreath from the lid and reached for the latches.
First latch.
Clack.
Veronica’s fists tightened.
Second latch.
Clack.
The young lawyer backed away.
Third latch.
Clack.
Clara whispered a prayer as the lid rose.
A pungent odor escaped. Veronica covered her nose.
Clara didn’t move.
Inside lay a man wearing Leonard’s blue suit.
Leonard’s watch was on his wrist. His wedding ring was on his finger. Around his neck was the St. Christopher medal Clara had given her son when he graduated from college.
But the face belonged to someone else.
The man was
