Page 104 of Fury In Death

Some she knew. Louise and Charles, several she’d interviewed from Banner-Wyst, the sons, the widow, Joleen Everly.

She saw Jacob Wyst, and deduced the two men flanking him were bodyguards.

She didn’t see Steven Redman, and hadn’t expected to.

He’d respect this, she thought, this memorializing, this solace. Because it was for the living. For family.

This ritual designed to comfort those who’d loved the man whose smiling photo stood on an easel surrounded by flowers, he’d respect.

On the wall screen, various points of Chu’s life flickered by. Childhood, adolescence, the proud college grad. Holidays, birthdays, big moments. His wedding, accepting his doctorate, holding his infant sons.

The years of a life slid by, decades summed up in minutes.

Her eyes narrowed as she saw the image of a young Redman, his obviously pregnant wife, posing with Chu and his widow.

All smiles, arms curled around waists. And the little boy riding piggyback with his laughing face pressed between Redman’s and his mother’s.

Then that image passed into the next.

When they spotted Eve and Peabody, Charles and Louise moved over to them.

“I wasn’t sure you’d make it,” Louise murmured.

“We can’t stay long.”

“Neither can we. Brad will give the eulogy soon, and then I need to get to the clinic. Charles rescheduled some appointments, but . . .”

“Life marches on,” he said. Like Eve, he scanned the room, his vidstar face somber. “It needs to, or what’s the point? This, all this, gives family, well, solace. Then life marches. Not for them at first, but for the rest.”

The music that had played during the moments of Chu’s life paused. And the screen held steady with the image Eve remembered well.

The family photo Redman had turned facedown on Chu’s desk.

“That’s lovely.” Louise spoke softly. “The family they made, together, happy. Memories like that bring grief, but then they ease it.”

Bradley Chu rose, then bent to kiss his mother before walking to the podium below the screen to eulogize his father.

Eve watched the room.

She heard the words, the quiet weeping, the relief of laughter at an anecdote.

What she saw in Wyst? Nerves. He didn’t precisely fidget, but he shifted, glanced around more than he should have. He’d come because he remained the public face of his company. But he clearly didn’t want to be there.

And she was small enough to hope this ritual felt like torture to him.

When Bradley finished, his voice quavering more than a little at the end, he went back to his family.

Others stood to say a few words.

“We’ve got to go,” Louise murmured.

“We’re here a little longer.”

“We’ll see you at the party.” Charles leaned in to kiss Peabody’s cheek, then Eve’s. “I can’t tell you how much we’re looking forward to it.”

“Me, too.”

“I hope you find who did this.” Louise took Eve’s hand, squeezed. “And kick their ass for it.”