Dying Art (A Dylan Scott Mystery) Read Online Free PDF

minority. The only others wearing black were Maddie, her father and her uncle. Her mother was in grey, the aunts were in navy and Chandler had opted for a grey suit with a blue-and-red tie.
    Other people, all of them strangers to Maddie, wore muted colours as they talked and laughed beneath their umbrellas. Slowly, the crowd began to enter the church. One woman, an elderly woman in a dark blue coat, eyed the family with relish as she passed and Dylan supposed she was one of those oddballs who considered a funeral good entertainment.
    A young boy stood on the pavement outside the church. He was probably fifteen or sixteen, and was smoking a cigarette as he watched the mourners gather. Dylan guessed he was bunking off school.
    “It’s here,” Maddie whispered as a hearse drove up.
    Covering the coffin was a large but simple display of white flowers that Dylan assumed was from the family.
    The vicar, a tall, slightly bent man, had a few words with Maddie’s parents before giving the pallbearers some final instructions. The coffin was carried inside with the vicar and Prue’s family following.
    Dylan waited outside until the last minute and, when he went in and took a seat at the back of the congregation, he was surprised to see the church so crowded. Many must have been inside before he arrived. He did a quick head count and estimated that around a hundred and fifty people had come to this small, bitterly cold church to pay their respects. None looked like killers. Not that he had the vaguest idea what a killer looked like.
    When they stood to sing the first hymn, he watched Maddie and her mother, their shoulders taut with tension. Maddie’s lips were moving but he guessed no sound was coming from them. She looked up at the tall, vaulted ceiling. She fixed her gaze on the pulpit. She looked everywhere but at her sister’s coffin.
    The service was blessedly short and they were soon braving the wind and rain to walk the five hundred yards to the cemetery. The old stone path was rich with wet slippery moss, and Dylan offered up a quick prayer for the coffin bearers. He was lucky in that he hadn’t attended many funerals but he’d spent every one worrying that someone would drop the coffin. Perhaps it was a premonition of things to come. Maybe his own body would be the one unceremoniously ejected from a dropped coffin.
    Only a small proportion of the congregation attended the graveside ceremony but Dylan still risked losing an eye to someone’s umbrella.
    His attention was caught by a bearded man watching the proceedings from a distance. Dressed in a long overcoat, the high collar turned up to protect the back of his head from the elements, he was standing beneath a tree, possibly in an attempt to stay dry. Was he watching the ceremony or was he, like Dylan, paying more attention to the crowd of mourners?
    Their gazes met for a brief moment.
    “Sorry. It’s this damn wind.” A woman standing next to Dylan struggled with an umbrella. A strong gust had blown it inside out. “Typical funeral weather, isn’t it?” she added in a whisper.
    “I suppose it is.” Dylan helped to push her umbrella back into place before she took his eye out.
    With his companion safely protected from the rain again, Dylan turned to have another look at the bearded stranger, but he’d gone. Vanished. The cemetery only had one exit so he must have walked past Dylan. That was impossible though. It had only taken a few seconds to sort out that umbrella.
    Dylan left the mourners and walked away from the cemetery, back to the church and the path to the road. There was no sign of a man with a beard.
    He returned to the graveside and waited until only Prue’s immediate family remained. Maddie’s mother was inconsolable, and Dylan’s heart ached for her and her husband. To bury one’s child was unthinkable. To bury that child when the finest medical brains had done all they could was one thing, but to bury that child because someone with