“I just know,” he said quietly, and she believed him. He didn’t seem like a man who needed to lie. She could spot a poser a mile away, and this guy might be as strange as they come, but he was genuine.
Fiona shifted in her chair, uncertain as to how to react.
“You tell the cops?”
“No.”
“You going to?” her heart sped up fractionally.
Tim stared at her, saying nothing.
She raised her thumb to her mouth unconsciously to gnaw on a hangnail, but lowered it when she saw his face register slight distaste.
“She wanted me to have it,” the young woman said with a touch of sad defiance.
“Okay.” Tim continued to stare at her without expression.
“But I want something else too.”
The only indication that Tim had heard and reacted to her statement was that his blinking sped up a bit.
“Something else,” he stated flatly.
Fiona stared at him curiously. This was the first person she’d encountered in a very long time who was not transparent to her. She could see through the motives and desires of pretty much everyone she met, but this guy was a mystery. He intrigued her and scared her a bit too, and that was truly extraordinary. Most people inspired impatience or dismissal in her, but Tim was definitely a horse of a different color.
She reached into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out what looked like a blood-red crystal on a pewter chain. The “crystal” was two inches long, and she unscrewed the top of it, revealing that it was hollow. Suddenly, Tim knew what she wanted.
“No one will miss it,” she whispered, putting the crystal back together and dangling the necklace in front of the mortician.
“No one will,” he agreed, not touching the trinket.
Fiona uttered a word that rarely passed her black-glossed lips. “Please,” she whispered, still holding the crystal over the desk.
Dealing with the mortal shells of the dead on a daily basis, Tim didn’t have the same degree of reverence for by-products of humanity as most people did, once the friends and loved ones had said their final goodbyes. Meticulous preparation of the bodies were his gift to mankind, helping them to remember their beloved as they existed before illness or accident claimed them, but once the curtains had closed and the show was over, all that was left was a meaningless pile of cold flesh and bone.
Paulette McCamish’s remains had told a story, and once that story had been passed on to those who would know what to do with the information, her outer shell had been reduced to ash, holding meaning only for a handful of people who had shared either her heart or her DNA. Tim didn’t know why the dark creature in front of him wanted what she wanted, for some sort of scary ceremony perhaps, but in the end, the “whys” didn’t really matter. She had a desire that he could fulfil, and he saw no reason to deny her request. He took the necklace from her.
“Wait here,” he said, rising from his chair.
“I don’t want to.”
Tim cocked his head to the side and stared at her with a slight frown. Most people were uncomfortable in his presence. They didn’t like to think about what he did for a living, or how he went about it, but this young woman didn’t seem fazed at all. She seemed morbidly fascinated in fact.
“You might find it disturbing.”
“I doubt it,” Fiona replied with absolute certainty.
Tim thought for a moment and couldn’t come up with any good reason to argue, aside from the fact that what he was about to do could technically be construed as being illegal.
“Follow me.”
He glanced out toward the main part of the funeral home, making certain that no one was milling about, looking for him, and led Fiona down the back stairs that led to his workroom. Instead of entering the door to the right, where all of the “magic” happened, he opened a door to the left that was a cold, sterile placed lined with boxes and jars. Moving directly to a simple urn on a lower shelf, he picked it up off of the shelf and took it to a steel workbench at one end of the storage room.
Reaching up to a shelf over the workbench, Tim grabbed a piece of paper, folded it in half and unscrewed the top from the urn. He tilted the open vase to the side a bit over the paper and tapped just twice on the rim with his finger. A small amount of Paulette McCamish’s ashes sifted onto the paper. He unscrewed the crystal from its top, and held the creased paper containing the ashes over the tiny opening. Without spilling so much as a tiny fleck, the mortician filled the crystal to the brim, using exactly the amount of ash that he’d tapped out of the urn. He put the necklace back together and handed it to Fiona, who clasped it in her palm, looking more vulnerable and human than he’d ever seen her.
Folding up the piece of paper that he’d used, with any residue tucked safely inside, he handed it to her and she put it in her pocket. They headed for the stairs, and once they got to the top, rising up from the fan-cooled death rooms, Fiona turned to Tim.
“This never happened,” she said, holding his gaze.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied, so convincingly that she almost questioned him. Then a corner of his mouth twitched, ever so slightly.
“Good,” she nodded, relieved.
“Good,” he echoed, heading to his office as she watched him go.
Chapter 14
Chas was working late, so Missy and Echo met for dinner at a casual seafood shack on the beach that offered vegan entrees as well as the freshest fish and seafood around. Their table was topped with red and white checked oilcloth, and the delicious finger-food came in baskets.
“Have you heard from Spencer? He disappeared around lunch time and I haven’t seen him since,” Missy asked, beginning to become concerned.
Echo shook her head. “No, it’s weird. He knows I’m opening the store on Friday. I would’ve thought that he’d be making candles with me tonight.”
“Well, maybe he’s over there now, getting a head start,” Missy said hopefully.
“Let me text him and see.” Echo pulled out her phone, wiped her fingers on a napkin and texted.
“Hey handsome, you playing with hot wax at my place? ;)” she sent the message with a grin.
“That should prompt a response,” she chuckled.
“Kinda tied up right now. Tomorrow? ;)” was the reply.
“Sounds good – thx!”
Echo put her phone down. “So apparently he’s okay, just busy.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” Missy smiled, munching a french fry.
**
“Who was that? Is there new information?” Steve’s eyes darted from Spencer’s face to his phone and back again.
“Nothing yet,” the Marine replied grimly, sitting across from the now-paranoid man in a diner nearly three hours away from Calgon.
A short, brunette waitress, dressed in a retro pink polyester dress, approached the table with a friendly smile directed exclusively at Spencer.
“Y’all had time to look over the menu?” she asked, chewing her gum.
Spencer ordered two chili-cheeseburgers, a platter of cheese fries, a thick chocolate shake and a piece of chocolate cake.
“I don’t think I can eat,” Steve commented, staring at the glitter-flecked formica table top.
“Look, man, you gotta stay strong and alert. Suck it up and get some food.”
“Okay,” he nodded soberly. “I’ll have what he’s having, but throw some extra chili on my fries. I’ll need the protein.”
“You got it sugar,” she collected the menus and went on her way with a little extra sway in her step.
**
Detective Chas Beckett had seen many situations during his years in law enforcement that had given him pause for thought, and man’s inhumanity to man never failed to disappoint him. He had lab techs working overtime at the moment, testing the samples that Tim had had the foresight to collect from Paulette McCamish’s corpse. If his hunch was correct, more lives could be in danger and time was of t
he essence.
**
Echo stepped off of the bus that stopped at the entrance to her up-and-coming neighborhood, enjoying the feel of the cool night air on her bare arms. She walked the two blocks to her homey little cottage and noticed that, although there were no lights on in Loud Steve’s house, his front door was wide open. His truck was in the driveway, and there were no sounds coming from his house. Curious, she went to the door and knocked on the door frame.
“Steve?” she called into the house.
Echo nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard a loud crash, accompanied by the sound of breaking glass in the vicinity of his back door. Frightened, and not knowing what to do, she called out again, dialing 911 as she did so.
“Steve? Are you okay in there?” her voice shook, considering the possible answers to that question.
Stepping off of the front porch, she saw a dark figure dart into the shadows just as the 911 operator came on the line.
“There’s something bad going on next door,” Echo exclaimed, sprinting toward the safety of home.
Once inside, she locked the door and talked the dispatcher through what she had seen and heard, staying inside until she saw the comforting red and blue pools of light coming from two police cruisers that had pulled up in front of Loud Steve’s house. Chas came and knocked on Echo’s door so that she could talk with him rather than an officer that she didn’t know.
“Did you see what the person who ran away looked like?” he asked.
Echo shook her head, her heartbeat finally returning to normal as she sat with her best friend’s husband. “No, not really. It happened really fast and I ran because I didn’t want to get hurt.”
“That was a smart thing to do,” Chas nodded. “Do you know if they were tall or short, heavy or thin, male or female?”
“I couldn’t tell if they were male or female, and I can’t be sure, but I want to say that they were medium height and thin. Really it’s just such a blur,” she shrugged.
“That’s okay,” the detective reassured her. “I have an idea of who it might have been. I’m going to head over and see what the guys have found so far, but if you think of anything else, just text or call,” he instructed.
“Do you think Steve is okay?” Echo worried. Her neighbor was certainly hard to take at times, but he was still a human being.
“I have a feeling that he’s safe and sound,” Chas smiled confidently, allaying her fears for the moment.
**
Officers swarmed all over Loud Steve’s cluttered and shabby home, looking for clues as to what had happened.
“Beckett, you might want to see this…” a uniformed officer waved Chas over to the kitchen table. There were dishes from a few meals, along with a mostly empty pizza box and a dusting of something covering about a square foot of table top.
“What did you find?” Chas asked, hurrying over.
“Look at this,” the officer pointed at the dust with a gloved finger.
“Clearly, he’s not a stickler for housekeeping,” the detective remarked dryly.
“Look closer,” the cop said, handing him a magnifying glass.
“It’s granular,” Chas observed. “What are you thinking?”
“Looks like cremains to me,” the officer shrugged.
“Was there an urn or box found?”
“Not so far.”
“Keep me posted,” the detective instructed. “I’m going to go question a suspect.”
Chapter 15
Fiona McCamish was sitting on a pile of couch cushions that she’d arranged in the corner of the living room. She couldn’t exactly afford to replace the furniture that had been destroyed by whoever had trashed her apartment, so she threw a sheet over the top of the ripped cushions and made the best of it. She knew, without looking, who would be on the other side of the door when she heard his knock, and sighed with resignation, heaving herself up to answer it.
“Miss McCamish, may I come in? I need to speak with you,” Chas said, flashing his badge out of habit.
“Do I have a choice?” she raised an eyebrow at him.
“We can talk here, or I can come back with a warrant and take you to the station. Your choice,” the detective replied calmly.
Fiona sighed and rolled her eyes. “Fine. What now?” she asked, knowing what he say as she led him to the kitchen and offered him a seat on a mustard colored retro kitchen chair that had its seat sliced open.
“Where were you this evening from about six o’clock until half an hour ago?”
“Here.”
“You were here the entire time?” Chas raised a skeptical eyebrow.
“That’s what I said.”
“I see. Nice necklace,” he commented, gazing pointedly at the red crystal at her throat that appeared to be ¾ full of sand.”
Her hand instinctively went up to clasp the pendant and she swallowed hard. “Thanks.”
“Want to tell me again where you were before we have to talk about some fingerprints that I found in a strange place?” he asked, bluffing.
Her eyes flickered for a moment, but just a moment. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she insisted, meeting his gaze as though she had a clear conscience.
“You tried to set Steve up for your sister’s murder and the theft of her ring. Why?”
“Murder? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” For the first time, the supremely self-assured young woman’s confidence seemed to slip.
“I think you do,” Chas levelled his gaze at her.
Fiona’s pale face went positively, alarmingly white, and for a moment, the detective wondered if she was going to faint.
“Let’s go to your car,” she whispered. “I have something to show you, but it’s not here.”
He measured her with a glance and saw no malice in her intentions, so he agreed to take her where she wanted to lead him, without taking the precaution of putting her in handcuffs. She directed him, by turns, to a quiet area of town, ultimately guiding him to the nursing home where she worked.
“What you have to show me is here?” Chas asked, surprised.
“Yeah. I couldn’t keep it at my house…it’s what he was looking for when he trashed the place,” she replied, tears welling in her eyes.
“Who was looking for it?” the detective demanded, thinking that she was talking about Paulette’s missing ring.
“You’ll know when you see it,” she sighed.
Mystified, Chas followed her into the back entrance of the nursing home, where she led him to a basement laundry room. In the back of a janitor’s closet, Fiona popped out a fake panel backing the space, and uncovered a stone wall behind it. One of the stones seemed a bit askew, and she lifted it from underneath, removing it to reveal a small, hidden cubbyhole. Within the cubbyhole was something that shed a tremendous amount of light on recent events.
Chapter 16
Echo packed a bag after the break-in next door and Chas had a police officer drop her off for a girl’s night with Missy. The two women had curled up in their jammies on the couch with Toffee, Missy’s golden retriever, and Bitsy, her maltipoo, at their feet. They shared a bowl of popcorn between them and intended to watch romantic comedies until Echo calmed down enough to sleep.
“Well, I’m just glad you’re safe,” Missy squeezed her friend’s shoulder.
“Me too. I just don’t understand why anyone would break into Steve’s house. I seriously doubt that he has anything worth stealing.”
“Do you think it might have something to do with his ex-wife?”
“Maybe, I mean, they haven’t found her missing ring yet, and it makes sense that he might think that it should belong to him, but Paulette’s family didn’t seem like the “breaking-and-entering- thieving type.”
“I don’t know…the little sister was sort of scary looking,” Missy raised her eyebrows.
Echo smiled ruefully. “I thought she seemed kind of sad and scared. Reminded me a bit of myself when I was that ag
e. Confused and not fitting in with “normal” people…I know what that’s like.”
“Well, I’m sure Chas will get to the bottom of things, and in the meantime, you can just stay here until you feel safe enough to go home.”
“I don’t suppose you have any cupcakes around, do you?” her friend replied hopefully.
“You know I do,” Missy grinned. “Cue up the movie and I’ll be right back.”
**
Spencer Bengal was ready to pull out his long, glossy black hair after spending an entire day in the company of a paranoid and smelly Loud Steve, whom he regarded as a surly, impulsive teenager.
“I think we should head back now,” he said, after their fourth rest stop visit since they’d left the diner. “We can sneak you back in to your house under the cover of darkness, and hopefully no one will know you’re there until the sun is high in the sky.”
“What if it’s not safe? You never told me who it is that’s looking for me, or why,” Steve frowned, scared, but trying to act tough.
Spencer regarded him gravely, playing his part to the hilt, hoping that he wouldn’t have to babysit anymore after tonight.
“It’s probably best that you don’t know. If you know nothing, you can’t be…forced to reveal what you know,” the Marine said in a low voice.
“Right,” Steve nodded, wide-eyed. “Let’s go then,” he took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders.
Spencer backed out of the parking spot, headed back to Calgon, relieved to be almost free of his charge.
He pulled into Steve’s driveway a couple of hours later, got out of the car and stretched. Steve opened his front door and let out an exclamation of surprise.
“What the…”
White Chocolate Murder: A Frosted Love Cozy Mystery - Book 31 (Frosted Love Cozy Mysteries) Page 5