“You two stop that.” I stepped between them. “You know I can’t eavesdrop when the only words I understand are naughty ones.”
Creole ran his hand through his unruly hair. “Fab asked him to define ‘alone,’ and he responded ‘you know damn well what I mean.’ Satisfied?”
I turned on Didier. “You used a bad word?” I want to laugh at Didier’s frustrated expression. His fault—he was the one always admonishing us over our language. He and Fab looked half-amused, so mission accomplished by not minding my own business.
“Good morning,” Mother called out from the bottom of the steps.
I winked at Fab. Now that Mother had moved to Tarpon Cove, she was becoming a regular fixture in the morning. I’d bet Fab that Mother liked to start her day with extra eye candy, as both Creole and Didier tended to lounge around shirtless. The only time she didn’t show was when Spoon didn’t have an early morning appointment.
Creole stood, meeting her before she started up the steps, taking the pink bakery box and shopping bag from her hands and offering his other hand to help her on board.
“What’s for breakfast?” Fab snooped through everything Mother had brought.
Didier scowled at her.
“You dissed the cats? There’s no cat food.” Fab looked at me, and we laughed.
Jazz and Snow didn’t seem to be bothered by being uprooted from their home. There were plenty of places to sleep, the food stayed the same, and there were people around to pet them.
Mother shot Fab her signature “you better behave” look, which had little to no effect on her. “I have good news,” Mother announced, clearly pleased with what she was about to say. “Your house is clean, top to bottom, and the stuff left behind on the floor has been put into boxes and moved into the garage, in case someone comes looking for their belongings.”
“I suppose there’s always the chance that Carbine will wake up at the coroner’s office. But probably not, since he’s been autopsied,” I said.
“Madison.” Mother whooshed out a loud sigh. “Where do you get these ideas?”
I pointed at Fab.
The guys laughed.
“That means we can move back in today,” I said.
“I forgot,” Fab said. “We’ve got a job at the funeral home today.”
“What’s the status on this person? Dead or not?” I asked.
“It’s complicated,” Fab answered.
“Am I wearing something in basic black, or are we local mourners, so I can just wear a bathing suit and cover up?” I asked.
Fab shook her head. “Don’t embarrass me.”
I reached out and kicked Didier’s foot. “Come with us. Free sandwiches. Casual dress.”
Didier crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not going. Take your mother.”
Last time Didier was at Tropical Slumber, he’d complained that the place gave him the major creeps. It was bad enough to attend the funeral of a loved one; he wasn’t hanging out there.
“I can’t today; Spoonie and I are going to lunch.”
“I thought you were banned from calling him that?” I reminded her.
“Sometimes I forget.” Mother sat back with a satisfied smile on her face.
* * *
“You never did explain complicated,” I said as Fab pulled into Tropical Slumber Funeral Home.
The old drive-through hot dog stand had been given several makeovers besides the obvious of being turned into a mortuary. It now had a house, a six-car garage, a separate one that held caskets, and a crematorium in the back. In Dickie and Raul’s zest to be a single stop for all funeral needs, they’d recently added a pet graveyard under the patio area. The duo boasted that it had brought in business from all of south Florida once word got out.
“The ‘deceased’ woman is alive, but she has a good reason for pretending to be dead.” Fab slid out from behind the wheel and went to say hello to Raul, who waited for her on the red carpet that ran from the parking lot to the front door.
“Thanks for the details,” I grumbled and got out of the SUV, waving to Dickie.
Fab always left out all the drama in a retelling, just listing off the facts, and sometimes skipping a few of those if they showed her in a bad light.
Dickie and Raul couldn’t be more different. Raul was of average height, with a body builder’s physique; he handled the business affairs. Dickie was over six feet and painfully thin, his skin translucent; he was the artist.
I headed toward Dickie, knowing he would give me straight answers. “Do we get to shoot anyone?”
“You’re here for our peace of mind and to prevent flying bullets. I take it you didn’t get any details.” He looked paler than usual, if that was possible.
I shook my head in response.
Dickie let out a long, frustrated sigh. “Sometimes, you can’t say no to a friend, even though you know you should. I know the answer to my question, but I have to ask: can I trust your discretion?”
I knew from past experience that if word got out that you couldn’t say no, it was an open invitation to be walked on. “Nice” was a character trait to be exploited. “Fab and I don’t talk about our cases except when events warrant it; then, we confide in our boyfriends. I assure you, they’re a tight-lipped pair.”
“Bernie Stone at the coroner’s office has a sister, Karen, who you will meet later. Her husband murdered her, or so he thinks. He left her for dead alongside the road and called a man he’d hired to dispose of the body. When the man arrived, she was still alive. The husband, thankfully, was a poor shot; thought he’d shot her in the chest, but missed and it entered her shoulder. She fainted, which saved her life.”
Astro and Necco, their two Dobermans, careened around the corner, skidding to a stop in front of us. I held out my hand, and both dogs wanted to shake at the same time.
Raul and Fab joined us, their arms linked, and we walked into the reception area. I headed for my favorite red brocade, plastic slip-covered chair by the door. Its proximity to freedom put it at the top of my list for sitting. It certainly wasn’t for its comfort; after a while, it made my butt hurt, which was when I invariably signaled Fab that it was time to go.
“Dickie was kind enough to fill me in on the details that seem to have slipped your mind.” I glared at Fab, who stood on the opposite side of the room, the one closest to the viewing rooms.
My sexy, hot friend had a ghoulish streak; she’d be sticking her head in every room before we left. I’d never asked about her fascination with dead people; I didn’t want to know.
“Karen offered to pay the man more not to finish the job. He assured her that he wasn’t a murderer but still took the money. Or rather, her diamond wedding ring, as she didn’t have any money on her. They shook on the deal just as her husband called, and she listened in on speakerphone. Karen said her husband called the man Carl before asking, ‘Did you get rid of the body?’” Dickie sat down and pressed the back of his head against the wall. “Apparently, her husband, with the help of a coroner friend, has claimed the body of a homeless woman who’d drowned. Which is who we’re holding the funeral for.”
Raul pulled open a drawer in the round table that sat in the middle of the room, retrieved a bottle of aspirin, and shook out two, handing them to Dickie along with a bottle of water. Usually, the table held a fresh flower arrangement, as it did today, but there were times when they anticipated a big turnout and it held food.
Raul continued the story. “After assuring her husband that he’d dealt with her body, Carl drove Karen to her brother’s house and dumped her about a block away.”
“Good thing she had the ring to bargain with. There’s a good chance she’ll get it back. If he’s stupid enough to show up at a pawn shop, he’s busted. The cops will want him, and they’ll send out a picture of the ring.” I petted the dogs, who were now lying on my feet. The
y didn’t fool me—they wanted a sandwich, and I was their best bet. I wanted one too, but we’d arrived too early for funeral food leftovers. “Fast forward—why hasn’t the husband been arrested and is instead arranging to throw a sham funeral? I also want to know why you agree to these ridiculous requests, but I suppose it’s none of my business, although I don’t like being told that.”
“Don’t pay attention to him.” Raul waved offhandedly. “These unusual requests get us on the news, hence more customers, and it’s not like they’re freebies. They have to pay the regular rate—dead or not.”
Dickie banged his head against the wall, wincing. “Karen was in denial until she saw the announcement of her funeral. Some rubbish about still loving him…” he said in disgust.
“She’s not turning him in to the police, but instead attending her own funeral? What exactly does she get out of that?” I paused, thinking I should be more like Fab: not interested in pesky details. “What are we doing here?” I tried to cover my annoyance but failed.
“I don’t want to get arrested.” Dickie covered his face with his hands.
Fab, who was closest to him, moved to his side and patted him awkwardly on the shoulder.
“Karen wants to wait until the funeral is over and then confront him,” Raul stated simply. “She wants to humiliate him in front of their friends and family, and then watch as he’s led away in handcuffs.”
“Where are the police?” I asked. “They aren’t going to stand for this kind of game.”
“Her lawyer wasn’t keen on the idea either, but he’s meeting with the Miami police department, as it happened in their jurisdiction. I’m hoping they show up soon and ruin the damn surprise,” Dickie said.
“Why are we here?” I wanted to shoot Fab a dirty look, but her back was turned, and after a minute of comforting Dickie, she headed into the only viewing room with a name tag.
“To make sure the husband doesn’t get away and that no one gets hurt,” Raul said, flushed with embarrassment.
“If the husband makes a run for it, Fab can chase him. She always lording it over me how much better shape she is in than I am; time for her to show off her skills. If he uses his car to get away, I’d prefer to shoot out the tires, but in this case, I’ll give his license plate number to the cops.”
A long black SUV drove slowly past the open door. Raul went and stuck his head out the door. “Karen just arrived.” He continued to stare. “Mourners are arriving, gathering in small groups.”
“Astro, Necco,” Dickie called. A moment later, the dogs were on their feet and following him down the hall to their residence.
“Too bad you’re not that well behaved,” I said to Fab.
She shot me her mean-girl stare in return, and I laughed.
“No funeral, real or pretend, for me. I’m taking the outside,” I told Fab.
“Once the funeral starts, Karen is coming inside to wait here in the reception area. I’ll signal when she makes her grand entrance,” Raul said.
I did my best not to cringe, a shudder shooting up my spine.
“Fab can stand at the back of the room. I’ll wait out here, and when Karen shows up, I’ll go outside.”
“You didn’t listen very well when we got the stay together lecture this morning.” Fab didn’t bother to hide her annoyance. “We both need to see what’s going on to react accordingly. If deputies swarm this place, we go out the back.”
* * *
While Fab was in last-minute conversation with Raul, I snuck out the front door and claimed the wood bench with a wrought iron backing just outside the door. Guaranteed sore butt. I suspected Dickie and Raul went for the ornate design for appearances, forsaking comfort.
Fab practically stormed out the door. She sliced her index finger across her neck, cutting off the tirade she knew I was about to launch. “Raul will text when the service is winding down, and I’ll go back inside,” she huffed. “Next time Dickie or Raul calls, you tell them no. If something goes wrong and one of them gets hurt, you know you’ll feel guilty.”
She had a point.
“This is a freebie!” I tried to mimic her, but it came out a bit screechy.
“Your attempts at imitation are pitiful. It’s hard to duplicate perfection. Just be yourself.”
I looked both ways to make sure no one was nearby and made a loud, extended retching noise. “What’s our plan?” It didn’t take long to realize she didn’t have one. I sighed and said, “Keep your eyes on Karen. There’s a chance this whole scenario goes awry and someone really does die. Mister Karen isn’t going to take her resurrection very well once the shock wears off. Five dollars says he runs. I would. And don’t forget pictures or a video for Mother.”
Fab pointed and groaned. “You’re not going to like who just pulled up on a sheriff’s department motorcycle.”
I turned and caught sight of Kevin, dressed in his uniform, parking the bike in front of the hearse. “You thinks he’s here to escort the mourners to the cemetery?”
“Must be something the husband ordered. Raul told me that the body isn’t leaving here; it’s illegal to knowingly bury the wrong body.”
“You tell Raul to give Cruz a quick call before he and Dickie answer questions. I’m not sure whether Cruz will remember he represented Dickie once, but I’ll certainly remind him. What they know and when they knew it is a bit murky and could get them into big trouble.”
Fab continued to stare at Kevin. “If he doesn’t have a clue about what’s going on, I say we don’t enlighten him. Once he recognizes the SUV, he won’t be able to stop himself from finding out why we’re here. Thanks to the luxury of tinted windows, he can’t see in; if he thinks we’re inside, my bet is he’ll go over and peer in the windows.”
“I’m going to cut him off, find out what he knows.” I got off the bench, where I’d been partially concealed by a pillar, and cut diagonally across in Kevin’s direction, stopping him from reaching the SUV.
I got within a foot before Kevin asked, “What are you two doing here?”
“We were invited. And you?” I said.
“None of your business.” He turned and stomped back to his bike.
Fab now stood behind me. Her phone beeped. She pulled it out of her pocket and poked me, inclining her head toward the funeral home. We walked to the entrance together and got there in time to see a woman with black netting over her face open the door to the main room. Fab followed her.
“Pics,” I whispered and got a head shake in return.
Showtime.
Instead of heading back outside to do the coveted outdoor duty, I couldn’t resist a peek at the surprise, “Honey, I’m not dead” party. I tucked myself into a corner, a perfect spot for not missing out on the good stuff. Once of us should have been professional enough to ask the grieving husband’s name.
The service was nearly over, which I appreciated. The guests were thanked for coming, and instead of heading for the exit, they swarmed around the grieving husband and steered him towards the door. Karen pushed away from the wall and blocked the aisle. Lifting her veil, she gushed, “Saunders, it’s me.”
He spotted her immediately, and his hands slapped the sides of his face in horror. Only a few of the guests were able to get a good look at her face. A few whispers later, and they were all staring, most doing double- and triple-takes. They appeared shocked, except for a teenager towards the back, who skirted the side wall, a big smile in place, and produced his phone.
“A ghost?” Saunders uttered as he fell to his knees.
“Surprise, devoted husband. I’m still alive.”
“I’m so sorry for everything,” he sobbed. “Please forgive me. I do love you and always have. I changed my mind, I swear I did, but it was too late.”
“What the hell is going on here?” Kevin whispered.
Startled, I jumped a little, but
composed myself quickly. “That’s Saunders.” I pointed to the man, who had crawled over to his wife and was jerking on the hem of her dress, and gave him the basic facts.
Kevin grunted and walked back outside.
None of the invited guests moved an inch, caught up in the unfolding drama.
The sound of sirens caught Saunders’ attention. Wrapping his arms around her leg, he begged, “Forgive me.”
Karen gave him a blank stare, staying silent; she lifted her foot and kicked his arm away. He rolled onto his hands and knees, then jumped up and ran in my direction.
At that point, I didn’t care if he got away; the deputies and a K-9 unit would have him in custody before the hour was up. But Fab’s face clearly said, “Do something.”
I stuck my leg out and sent Saunders tumbling to the ground, almost taking a spill along with him. Four deputies converged on the reception area. Spotting him sobbing on the floor, they surrounded him and took him into custody without any more drama.
The video-taking teenager flagged down one of the deputies, handing over his phone, and they stood side by side to watch the screen.
Fab stood between Raul and Dickie, doing all the talking to the cops. I caught snippets of the mourners’ conversations; some were disgusted that Karen had waited to show herself, a few implying that she’d driven poor Saunders to do something uncharacteristic, as he was “such a nice man.” Others withheld judgment but wanted to know more. The big speculation was about Saunders’ motive.
I had a few questions I’d like answered, which I knew would never happen. Now I was fixated on leaving. I waved to Raul and Dickie and walked back to the SUV.
I slid into the driver’s seat, having to remind myself that it was okay to drive; after all, it was my car. Fab never saw it that way. I started the car and was tempted to rev the engine in a warning that I’d leave her behind if she didn’t hustle.
“You know I hate your driving,” she huffed, sliding into the passenger side.
“I know it makes you sick,” I said, lacking sympathy. “Roll down the window before you barf. Or hold it; we’re not going that far.”
Hurricane in Paradise (Florida Keys Mystery Series Book 10) Page 9