Why Not Murder

33. Undercover

33. Undercover

When Maya was at the protest and saw Dark-Sky's father nicknamed Spark amongst the protesters, she followed him down the back alleys of the city's downtown district. Behind a shop she watched Spark unload boxes of fruit and vegetables from a truck and carry them through the back main floor door. Then he would come back, get more, return and stack the empty boxes under the fire escape landing. When Spark did not come back out again, Maya went around to the front of the building to the store located there and went inside with a couple apples she picked out from one of the stands bordering the sidewalk.

Spark was working the cash register and she went up to pay. "Maya Whitehawk," Spark said, "I thought I recognized you following me." Maya blushed deeply. "Any word from my son?" Spark asked.

"Last I saw him, he was preparing to go to the place of high tide, with his telescope of course," Maya answered.

Spark nodded approvingly, "About time," he said. There was no one else in the store, so Spark asked, "Why were you following me? Still shy?"

"Compensating for that now," Maya said, "I saw you at the protest and wondered how you are."

"Doing fine. Working here. Grieving but quietly now," Spark said, "I don't think any one of us will recover from the tragedy, but the survival instinct makes you go on. No telling what the future will bring. Hopefully more children. But there's another reason you followed me."

"I want to join Justice Will Come," Maya said.

"Great - you're in," Spark said, "All are accepted. We are marching the same route, morning and afternoon, next week. We want to disrupt as much traffic as possible. I'll give you a Tshirt on Monday when I see you. In the meantime, here are a bunch of photocopy posters, a staple gun and a roll of ducktape. Next time walk with us instead of alongside." He smiled and Maya blushed again. "There are risks," Spark warned, "so be wary and aware."

"I won't go armed and I won't fight," Maya said, "but I do have much anger that wants venting."

"I don't fight either," Spark said, "As you saw, I avoid it and you can choose to as well. Expressing my anger non-violently relieves the pressure in my heart."

On her way to the train station, Maya put up all the posters.

Maple was packed with people when Maya arrived. Hudson's funeral was in process. The chapel was full and surrounded outside by people facing the chapel as the service was conducted by the funeral planners. Winnie gave a beautiful eulogy. The same people attended who were at the party, sober and solemn now. The wake was held at the local restaurant next to the chapel. Tables crowded the central square. Winnie, Gwen, Hilda and Cook left after the service with the gardeners. Harriet stayed, representing Winnie.

After the service was over, Maya lit a candle for Hudson in the chapel. As she was crossing the main square weaving through the tables and guests who were now well into partying it up, she saw a woman in a tiny consignment shop putting two paintings in the front window. Maya approached and was surprised to see that the paintings were two more of the ones Winnie asked Maya to locate. Maya entered the store. The shop-keeper greeted her.

"What lovely paintings," Maya said, "Who is the artist?"

"They are beautiful," the shop-keeper answered, "the artist is local, Winnie Laymuir. It's her husband's funeral out there. She's been painting for years and has a solid reputation with her work value steadily increasing."

"I never noticed them in your shop before," Maya said.

"I've had them since last year," the shop-keeper said, "Florals are seasonal. I never display them at any other time except spring and summer. They can be depressing in fall or winter. I also have a number of watercolour landscapes of local scenes done by myself." Maya looked around. They were smaller and lacked the bold colour of Winnie's work. All of the lines which should have been straight were wobbly. Maya left politely after buying several hand-crafted bead bracelets.