Part 14 (1/2)

Dom had just lost someone she cared deeply for, a gorgeous man a bit older than her, though she reportedly had a young lover: Gregor Zukovski, possible Slavic diamond smuggler.

I realized that I was patting the dead man's clasped hands, while mine were swathed in black lace Victorian gloves, circa 1860, and I was sobbing, heartbroken, over his loss.

In this state between psychic awareness and reality, I sometimes lost myself. Now I wanted to know if my gut-wrenching tears were for Dom or for her lover.

Of course! I wasn't myself, anymore, I was Dom. But I was feeling Dom's feelings. Either my psychometric ability had been kicked up a notch from use, or wearing a dear friend's clothes made the vision stronger.

Previous to this, I would be a casual observer in someone else's clothes, but right now I was experiencing a range of emotions, not the least of which was a debilitating grief.

I'd zoned and was having a vision and a half. Wow, hard to get a clue when you're grieving for two people at the same time.

Sc.r.a.p. I knew Dominique would only have worn Coco's extraordinary and valuable dress to a very special event. Obviously this man meant the world to her.

Was this Deep Throat? I wondered. If so, they never did get to run away together.

”I'm so sorry about your dad,” I heard from a man in my line of vision talking to the family.

”Victor was a good man,” said the next to pay her respects. ”The best.”

Pierce Pierpont wearing a black Ca.n.a.li suit and diamond studs in his French-cuffed white silk s.h.i.+rt stood accepting condolences from a long line of people.

The man Dom had loved was Pierpont's father. And he had pa.s.sed away only two weeks before.

Kyle had said that Pierpont sent her flowers before every performance. Not Pierce but Victor, who simply signed them Pierpont.

Son of a st.i.tch, I thought, as my vision hazed and I began floating dangerously away, I had to find out what Victor Pierpont died of.

Twenty-nine.

Guilt is perhaps the most painful companion of death.

-COCO CHANEL ”I hate smelling salts,” I said as I coughed and turned from the stench, feeling more myself again, embarra.s.sed to realize that I was on the floor flat on my back at eye level with the base of the kneeler and casket stand, my dad and Werner, among others, bending over me.

”What happened?” I asked, as if I didn't know, though I'd never pa.s.sed out during a psychometric vision before. Then again, I'd only talked that one time, too. Which meant that I never knew what to expect.

”You fainted,” my father said, while Werner helped me up. He attempted to walk me to a chair, but I turned back to the coffin, because I needed to see Dominique one more time.

Werner nodded and moved away.

I went to the casket and patted her hands the way she patted Victor Pierpont's. I'll find out what happened to both of you, I promised, though I wondered why I found the old man's death suspicious at all.

Oh yeah, I remember. I'd been kneeling in Dom's place. She had been suspicious.

I heard Kyle's voice rise as he spoke with the funeral director. Kyle insisted on closing the lid himself, well, ”ourselves,” he said.

”It just isn't done,” the director argued.

Kyle stepped up to the man, close and threatening. Not Kyle's style at all, or was it?

Then again, grief is a mighty stressor that can cause exacerbated reactions.

”For a hundred-and-fifty-thousand-dollar funeral,” Kyle whispered furiously, ”I would hope that an exception could be made, because if it can't, people will want to know.” This made Kyle's words the kind of threat that metaphorically raised the funeral director in the air by his s.h.i.+rt collar.

”Of course, Mr. DeLong,” the director said, backing away and smoothing the metaphorical wrinkles in his suit.

Kyle came up beside me, kissed his mother's cheek, and asked if I was ready. When I nodded, we slowly lowered the lid on Dom's casket.

With my heart in my throat, it was among the most difficult things I'd ever had to do, and yet, I knew it was what Dom would have wanted.

I would never forget my last view of her dear face. I tried to see her radiant beauty, instead of her ravaged features, while I swallowed convulsively.

When we finished, Kyle and I looked at the picture of us together. That was the memory I'd rather take with me.

Startling everyone, the sound of Dominique singing ”Amazing Grace” filled the room blanketing it in shocked silence, except for her extraordinary voice.

I went to sit beside Dad, who was holding Aunt Fiona in his arms, her face against his chest.

Of course this would be hard for Aunt Fee. She'd had a casket trauma of her own to deal with, like being shut inside one not that long ago.

Werner handed me the cup of water he'd been holding. ”Are you all right?” he whispered. ”That was brave.”

”What, pa.s.sing out?”

”No, closing the lid.”

My hand shook as I sipped the water, and that's when it hit me that I wouldn't see Dom ever again.

Aunt Fiona gave me a tissue.

My dad put his other arm around me and gave me his spare shoulder, st.u.r.dy and familiar. That's why they'd come. To be here for me.

Up front, Kyle took his place to receive the world's sympathy and with a raised brow, he turned his ex-dad away from the family receiving line.

Ian looked like he'd won some kind of game as he came to sit in the front row with us, even though he should be ashamed of losing his son's respect and having it witnessed by all of us.

To my surprise, after ”Amazing Grace,” Dominique's vocals continued with the songs she sang in Diamond Sands and some she didn't sing in the show: ”Diamonds Are a Girl's Best Friend,” ”Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds,” ”This Diamond Ring,” ”Diamond Girl,” ”Diamonds in the Mine,” ”Diamonds and Guns,” and more were piped softly into the room. They may not all have been used in the show but diamonds were the common theme.

Was that a clue? Dom kept an a.r.s.enal. She had somehow s.h.i.+pped me the dress saying if I had it, she was dead. Had she also planned her funeral, songs and all? I'd have to ask Kyle. I couldn't leave any possibility, however remote, unchecked.

Kyle stood alone and received New York's elite with his head high and Galina Lockhart first in line. Dom's well-chronicled rival did not look like she enjoyed Dom's vocal supremacy while she was trying to talk, and that made her steam.

It made me smile.

Eve and I were too close to the line of mourners to comment on the clothes, a hobby of ours, but I watched the face of every person who entered the room, and I made notes as to how they reacted when they saw the casket.