by M K Mancos
“Tragic.” Frank shook his head in pity.
“Then it’s the cop?” Jessica asked. Her bright amber eyes sparkled with the prospect of hearing torrid details of a steamy love affair.
“Jesus,” her father mumbled under his breath. “This is my little girl we’re discussing. She’s never having sex. Ever. So, drop it.”
Keely stood and walked to her father, placing her arms around his neck. “Don’t worry, Dad, any grandchildren I give you I promise will be the product of Immaculate Conception.”
“Don’t be fresh,” he said, but his eyes—the same unusual shade Keely had—were laughing.
“All right, if she won’t—or can’t—tell us about whom she’s not sleeping with, let’s hear about this new job she quit.” Frank took a place next to his wife at the table and dipped his fist into a bowl of chips their mother had placed on the table.
Keely turned to her family, leaning back against the sink. “Not much to tell. It’s an evening shift. Seven days a week…”
“You don’t get a day off?” her mother asked with horror in her dark eyes.
Keely shook her head. “Not even for good behavior.”
“Did my little sister take on a paper route?” Cliff snickered.
“No. I’m sort of a corporate detailer. When clients close their accounts, I come behind and do the clean up work.”
“Must be a pretty large company to need people seven days a week.” Her father gave her a skeptical look, narrowing his eyes at her.
Keely dared not hold his gaze. “I told you, I left the company, so it doesn’t matter anymore.”
“Why don’t you move back here until you finish school, honey?” Rena banged pots and pans as she pulled them from the overhead rack to start cooking dinner.
“She doesn’t want to do that,” Cliff pointed out. “She can’t bring her cop or her boss home then.”
“No, unlike you, Cliff, I never disrespected my parents’ home.” Keely smiled when Cliff turned red and shut his mouth.
“What’s she talking about, Clifford Ryan Montgomery?” Rena stopped filling a large pan with water and turned. Her hands were fisted on her trim hips.
“Nothing. You know Keely. She’s not happy unless she’s giving some kind of lip service.” It was said with a look that told Keely she’d better keep her mouth shut.
She laughed, walking over to her brother and putting her arms around his neck. “Are you embarrassed because you don’t want Mom and Dad to know how bad you were, or are you afraid of Camille?”
Camille gave her husband a totally infatuated look. “Oh, I know how bad he is.”
Seeing her family all together, laughing and joking, brought the lump back into her throat. Without willing it, she envisioned how Josiah would react to the Montgomery clan. He’d probably run away in fear. And besides, what was she doing contemplating a man who probably already thought she needed anti-psych meds.
The fact of the matter was simple. It didn’t matter if she went on strike or quit her Scythe duties, the knowledge of what lay ahead of every person and the reality of it all had been impressed upon her in the most graphic of images.
The hopelessness and inability to help those poor souls lost to the Reapers had saturated every layer of her skin, muscle, blood, and down into her own immortal essence.
A slight tugging on her pant leg had her looking down as a chubby grin smiled up at her. Little Malcolm, Frank and Camille’s son, had a string of drool running from his mouth to the floor. He only had four teeth in his head so far, but had bypassed crawling in favor of a diaper-hindered gait.
“Hey, Mally.” Keely reached down and picked him up. He leaned forward and pressed his slobbery baby lips to hers.
After his initial wet greeting, he regaled her with tales no one on heaven or earth could ever decipher. Add to this the fact his fat little hand pumped up and down like a politician making a point and Keely’s face slowly crumbled.
“Keely?” Camille’s face drained of color.
She kissed Malcolm, holding him to her in a tight grip. “It’s all right. He’s just such a sweet baby.”
Malcolm gave a screech of protest at being restrained by his aunt.
Keely kissed him again and set him on the ground. He toddled away, happy to be on the move once again.
“Are you sure you’re all right, sweetheart?” Her father put his arm around her and drew her to him. His dear face was that of a man at a complete loss.
Keely nodded. “I’m sure. I’m just really tired.”
“Why don’t you go lie down and I’ll call you when dinner’s ready,” her mother said from her station at the stove.
Keely waved off the suggestion. “Here, let me help you with something.”
For the rest of the evening, she tried her best to push the empty feelings to the back of her brain. Now that she had broken her ties with the Scythes, she shouldn’t be burdened by the fear of never having a normal life, and yet she seemed to dwell on the prospect more than ever.
Time. That’s what she needed. Time to get back on track and into a new groove. Time for the experiences of the last few days to fade like distant dreams.
She contemplated staying in Short Hills overnight, but as she dug into her purse for some lip balm, she found the business card Josiah had given her. Funny thing was she hadn’t been using this particular purse at the time.
With a deep breath and shaky fingers, she pulled out her cell phone and dialed.
16
He hardly knew where to begin.
To go and accuse a man of offing his wife without probable cause was asking to be put on suspension or his badge taken away. But for the life of him, he couldn’t forget the look in Keely’s eyes or the tears running down her face. She’d shaken in grief and anger.
As it happened, he received a call from one of the hospice workers who had been assigned to care for Karen Gennaro. The company was informed the day before of Mrs. Gennaro’s impending death and not to report to work the following morning. The hospice worker on duty the night before was sent home early. At the time, the worker believed Mr. Gennaro knew his wife’s end was drawing near and wanted to be alone with his wife when she passed.
When Josiah started checking into the details of the death, he found more and more discrepancies in the case. Like there wasn’t a death certificate, nor had their physician been called to sign one.
He arrived at the funeral home as a real estate agent pounded a For Sale sign into the front lawn.
He flashed his badge at the man. “I’m looking for Mr. Gennaro. Is he at home?”
The agent shook his head. “We talked over the phone yesterday and he asked me to put the business and house on the market. His wife passed away and he doesn’t feel he can continue working. I understand it was a long illness.”
Josiah nodded. “So, I hear. Have you ever met the Gennaros in person?”
“Only once or twice over the years.”
“Have you seen them recently?”
“Not her. Him I’ve seen.” The man swallowed. His prominent Adam’s apple bobbed.
“Where was that?”
The man looked very uncomfortable. “This could be a lucrative sale for me. I don’t want to jeopardize it by speaking out of turn.”
“If you don’t speak out of turn, I’m going to charge you as an accessory after the fact.” Josiah pulled his pen and notepad out of his pocket. “Now, when did you last see Mr. Gennaro?”
Twenty minutes later, the pieces were coming together very nicely. The real estate agent had seen Gennaro more than once, had in fact managed a few rental properties for the man, including a sweet little brownstone in Hoboken occupied by a Ms. Ramona Vendetti, who claimed she hadn’t heard from her lover, Roger Gennaro, in the past two days.
Without a death certificate, the body couldn’t be disposed of either by burial or cremation. Josiah began the task of calling local graveyards and crematoriums to find out if any bodies had been dropped off without pr
oper paperwork. He enlisted Shelia’s help in calling the long list in the area. Of course, the man had access to his own hearse, so there was no guarantee he left his wife’s body in New Jersey.
They hit pay dirt at a crematorium in the neighboring county. The body of Mrs. Karen Gennaro was on hold until the paperwork arrived. Mr. Gennaro dropped off his wife’s remains the night before, claiming he’d left the death certificate at home. He’d promised to be back the next morning with it, but hadn’t shown up yet.
By eight-thirty, Josiah had not only probable cause, but a warrant, a storeroom full of formaldehyde, strands of the late Mrs. Gennaro’s hair from the bedroom, Mrs. Gennaro herself and the state police on their way to Liberty International Airport to pick up the fucker who’d killed his wife.
It would be a while before the toxicology screen determined if there’d been formaldehyde in Mrs. Gennaro’s system or not, but all the other evidence suggested that Mr. Gennaro was anything but the grieving widower. The fact funeral home directors and embalmers often had high levels of the chemical in their system from working with the substance didn’t seem to deter the D.A.’s office in the least.
He shook his head at the speed with which he’d solved the case. Now, only the paperwork remained. Sometimes things came together in such a way he truly believed a guardian angel watched over him. Others…well. Midnight still roamed the streets menacing young women and thumbing his nose at the fashion police. If he could only get the drop on that maggot as easily as all the threads came together in the Gennaro case, he’d be one happy detective.
He left the station and drove by Keely’s apartment to tell her the good news. She’d be so thrilled. The best part was he’d be able to let her keep her secrets about how she knew the things she did—including the location of the used formaldehyde bottle.
There was no answer at her apartment. A trip by Nico’s proved pointless, since she wasn’t there either. Deflated, he climbed back into his car and drove home to pick up Pugsley. It had been a while since he’d been by to see his folks, so he drove over to Bergenfield and the house where he grew up.
His father, George, sat in front of the big screen television watching the New Jersey Devils on Pay-Per-View. There was a bowl of popcorn and a bottle of Dos Equis on the end table beside the chair.
Pugsley wandered over, sniffing up at the bowl.
George looked over. “Where’d you come from, dog?”
“I gave him the keys. He wanted to drive tonight.” Josiah pulled his jacket off and sat down on the couch. “It can be a challenge when you have stubby legs and can’t work the pedals and see over the steering wheel at the same time.”
“How’d he do?” his father asked without missing a beat.
“Wiped out a cyclist on our way out of Water Point Station. I’ll have to revoke his license.”
George glanced back at a bale-faced Pugsley. “You’ve done it now, dog.”
Pugsley gave a mournful whine.
“Is that Josiah?” Marilyn Adler came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. She swung it up on her on her shoulder. “Are you staying for dinner?”
Josiah glanced at his mother then his father. “Have I walked into an alternate universe here? Since when do the senior Adlers eat dinner past six?”
“Since your mother pulled a day shift at Hackensack Hospital.”
Josiah lifted a brow. His mother had semi-retired from nursing when his father left the police force. Marilyn worked per-diem shifts at several regional hospitals for extra money, most of which was sent overseas to Emily.
“A day shift? I am in an alternate universe.” Josiah reached over and grabbed a handful of popcorn. “So, what’s for dinner?”
“Swiss steak, mashed potatoes, green beans, salad.”
Josiah already nodded at the first item. It’d been too long since he’d had a home-cooked meal. Well, cooked by his mother. If he stayed, she’d treat him like a baby and wait on him hand and foot. He needed that after the day he’d had.
After stuffing himself as he hadn’t in days, he sat in the kitchen with his parents, picking at the crumbled remains of a coffee cake. The conversation revolved around local and national politics. Every time his mother asked about Josiah’s personal life, he steered the conversation in a different direction.
“Who is she?” his father finally asked when Marilyn left the room to print off an email they’d received from Emily.
“Who is who?” Josiah pretended ignorance. His father wasn’t a man who talked much about personal things, so the fact he brought it up felt a little weird.
“The woman who has you all clammed up. It’s not like you to avoid answering your mother’s probing questions. I swear the force lost a good interrogator when she became a nurse instead. The woman missed her calling.”
Josiah chuckled. That sounded like his mother. She’d been hell to live with as a teen. The woman always seemed to know when he’d done something wrong. She’d question, probe, and cross-examine until she got the answers. “I don’t know her that well. Other than her name is Keely Montgomery. She’s in a master’s program for social work. Tends bar in a dive and has a smile that’ll make you forget your own name.”
“That good, huh?”
“Better.” Josiah rubbed his chin in thought, wondering how much to tell his father.
His father gave him a sly smile. “You should’ve brought her over tonight.”
The very idea made him panic. His mother had a tendency to get attached to his girlfriends. When the relationships went south, Marilyn always blamed him, whether it was a mutual decision or not.
“I don’t think we’re to that stage yet. She’s only gotten to the point where she’ll speak to me without hostility.”
“Doesn’t like cops?”
“I don’t think it’s cops in general. I don’t think she took to my charm at first.”
George let out a loud, bellowing laugh.
Marilyn came back into the room. “What’s so funny?”
“Our son. He’s having trouble in the charm department.”
His mother made a face of concern and pity. “That’s too bad.”
Into the brief silence that followed, Josiah’s cell phone rang. He didn’t recognize the number. “Detective Adler.”
“Josiah? It’s Keely.”
His heart thudded to a stop. The woman had no idea at all how she affected him. He covered the mouthpiece with his hand. “Looks like my charm isn’t an issue anymore.”
He stood, taking his call into the living room and away from the curious ears of his parents. “I came by your place earlier.”
“You did? I’m sorry I missed you. If you want to try again, I’ll be on my way home soon.”
“Oh? Where are you?” Jealousy raised its head and bit him.
“Short Hills.”
“Shopping?”
“Family dinner. I wanted to see my parents.”
Josiah smiled at that. “Must be going around tonight. I’m at my parents’ house, too.”
“What’d you guys have?” He heard the smile in her voice when she asked the question—the conversation oddly mundane for them. So far, not one mention of a corpse.
“Swiss steak and the works. You?”
“Sausage and peppers. Linguini, salad, garlic bread.”
“Sounds kind of ethnic for a family named Montgomery.” He opened the front door, letting a whining Pugsley out in the yard to do his business.
“My mother’s maiden name is Fiorelli.”
The woman was on a roll, sharing personal information with him. He started feeling mighty privileged, considering he usually had to threaten to pull teeth to get her to talk.
There was a pause then she asked, “So, do you want to meet me at my place?”
Heat exploded throughout his entire body. “I just let Pugsley out.”
“The chubby kid from The Addams Family?”
He couldn’t stop the smile from claiming his face. Finally, a woman who
knew the reference for the name. “My dog.”
“You have a dog?” Her voice went up at least two octaves. “Bring him along. I love dogs. I can’t have one in my building for obvious reasons, but I so want one.” She paused again. “Maybe you shouldn’t bring him. I won’t guarantee you’ll get him back once he’s here.”
“I’ll bring him. We’re kind of a package deal.”
“ A love me, love my dog kind of thing?”
“Something like that. I’ll see you in a bit.” He he ended the call and stared out the glass storm door. She was definitely warming up to him. Thank God. It was only a matter of time before she’d tell him everything. Not that he held her doing so as the pinnacle of a relationship with her. Being curious about her, he couldn’t very well forgo knowing all her secrets though, especially in how she ended up around dead bodies all the time. But he had to admit her attitude had changed completely in the past twenty-four hours. What happened to make her do a one-eighty on him?
He said goodbye to his parents and headed out the door.
Pugsley scuttled to the car, wagging his stubby tail.
They took off for Water Point Station, encountering a traffic tie-up near Rt. 46 in Teaneck. Judging from where she had to come from, they’d probably make it there about the same time.
He sat at a light waiting to turn onto Keely’s street when a totally red hot retro Mustang made a right turn in front of him. The light changed and he rolled through the intersection. The Mustang sat on the right with the driver’s door wide open. He slowed to a crawl, watching Keely roll up the door on a storage shed.
“That’s one sweet ride, lady,” he called out the window.
Keely turned and smiled at him. “Thanks. Yours is a sight better than that unmarked piece of crap the department makes you drive.”
He faked offense. “Hey, that piece of crap has the goods where it counts.”
A completely feminine look filled Keely’s eyes. “Kind of like you?”
Oh, he had the goods all right and at that moment they were rock hard.