Suddenly, Sophie wished her old friend Madam Butterfly was still alive. Living in New York City, Madam Butterfly had been a mentor of sorts. Sophie had gone to her for readings off and on for years, and it was she who’d discovered Sophie’s psychic abilities. At the time, Sophie had laughed at her, but as the years passed, Sophie knew that the “feelings” she had were more than normal intuition. It had frightened her, but she’d always remained interested in the world beyond, an after place. When the spirits decided to pay Toots a visit, Sophie’s abilities had been reawakened. Calling those from beyond was as normal to her now as picking up the phone. Almost. But she didn’t recall ever having such a clear and vivid vision. If she could figure out what it meant, it would be worth the physical agony she’d gone through.
She closed her eyes, trying to call up the vision. Snow, fresh and powdery—she could almost feel its iciness. Concentrating, she focused on the blinding white. It was endless. As she focused on the image, the flash of bright red appeared. It was slick and flat. The object was surrounded by snow. Her expression froze when it hit her.
Suddenly, Sophie’s vision became quite clear to her. What she had seen was a vehicle, a bright red vehicle covered in snow.
The heady scent of roses and carnations filled the small viewing area at the Evergreen Funeral Home. Four rooms were used for viewing dearly departed loved ones. One room held seating for only twenty-four. Half of the seats were empty.
Mavis and Ida arrived just as the deceased’s ceremony began. Out of respect, they joined the ten mourners as Lula Mae Travis made her last earthly appearance.
Friends and relatives each took a turn at the lectern, remembering Lula Mae. Each eulogized her at great length.
Ida looked at her watch, then leaned over to whisper to Mavis. “The woman was ninety-seven years old. Do you imagine they’re going to rehash her entire life?”
“Shhh,” Mavis said. “Give them a couple minutes.”
Ida rolled her eyes, but kept silent. If they didn’t get started on their client soon, they’d be there all night.
Tapping her high-heel-clad foot against the chair in front of her, Ida had a flash of the mourners mourning themselves. She spoke up, though this time she didn’t bother lowering her voice as she doubted half the mourners could hear her anyway. “Let’s just leave. We’ll be here all night.”
Mavis took her bag from the floor and quietly escaped through the dark green drapes that separated the viewing rooms. Once they were out of earshot Ida swore. “Damn, Mavis, we can’t let ourselves get involved this way again. Remember, we’re professionals.”
“Yes, but we must always show compassion,” Mavis said sweetly. “Remember Pearl.”
Pearl May Atkins was the reason they were there in the first place. Mavis had attended the poor woman’s funeral. When she saw there was no one to give Pearl a proper send-off, Mavis made it her mission to see to it that no one went to the hereafter without a decent farewell.
Mavis and Ida had trained in San Francisco, and now both were in demand. Mavis, for her unique clothes designed for easy dressing of the dead, and Ida, for her skill with makeup. Many had commented on her work, saying the deceased looked much better dead than they had alive. Ida was quite proud of her accomplishments.
The e-mail she had received from the owner of the funeral parlor said he was vacationing in Europe. Their services had come highly recommended. from morticians across the country who were raving over her cosmetics. He promised to refer them to other funeral parlors throughout the state.
They traveled down a long, dark hallway, where a sign pointed to the administrator’s office. “Here,” Ida said, stepping inside the office that consisted of a small dark green love seat with two matching wing chairs and a round coffee table in the center. Matching tables on either side of the love seat held imitation Tiffany lamps. Behind the love seat, a set of floor-to-ceiling shelves lined the wall. Each shelf held an urn, several small floral arrangements, and what appeared to be samples of materials for the inside and outside of the many choices of caskets Evergreen offered. Ida thought the entire setup exceedingly tacky.
“Who is our contact, and why isn’t he here?” Mavis asked as she looked around the empty office.
Ida removed her BlackBerry from her purse and scrolled through her e-mail. When she found the original e-mail, she clicked on it. “His name is Barry Higginbotham. He’s filling in for Mr. Greenfield, the owner, who’s in Europe.”
They each sat in one of the wing chairs. Ida looked at her watch. “He probably thinks we weren’t coming since we spent so much time attending that service.” Ida stood up and went to the door, where she peered out into the hallway.
A short man with a terrible toupee raced down the hall toward the office. He stopped and openly stared at Ida’s bright pink hair. Stuttering, he said, “I’m s-s-sorry if I kept you w-w-waiting. The Travis family n-n-needed my attention. I’m Mr. Higginbotham. You must be Ms. M-M-McGullicutty.” He held out a plump hand.
Ida instantly thought of germs. She did not want to touch the little man’s hands. They looked greasy, like he’d raked them through his oily black toupee. She forced herself to touch the top of his hand with hers, then inched away from him.
“Now about M-M-Mr. Frank.” Mr. Higginbotham scooted behind the desk. He slid to the edge of the chair and placed both elbows on the desk. “It’s a very s-s-sad case. As you know, the m-m-man took his own life. The family did not g-g-give me all the details, nonetheless there are some ... uh, p-p-problems.”
Mavis, who had remained silent, spoke up. “We are quite used to dealing with problem cases. As a matter of fact, we sort of specialize in difficult dressings.”
Ida knew she was referring to Martha Wilkinson, their first client. The poor old woman’s last request was to make sure she was buried with dentures in place, and she had been, just not the ones that belonged to her. The husband, in his late nineties, had mistakenly given the funeral director his teeth instead of his wife’s. They’d almost had to break the poor woman’s jaw to insert the extra-large dentures, but she had gone to the other side with a complete set of false teeth.
“T-T-That’s encouraging, b-b-because ... well, j-j-just follow m-m-me to the emb-b-balming room, and you can s-s-see for yourself.”
Mr. Higginbotham scurried out of the office like a roach caught in the light. Ida and Mavis practically had to run to keep up with him. As they raced behind the little man to the embalming room, Ida suddenly had a feeling she’d made a serious error in accepting the assignment. She was beginning to think like Sophie.
At the end of the dark hallway was a door leading downstairs to the area where embalming and dressing took place. Ida grimaced at the iron odor that assaulted her. The room was like a crypt. Cold and lifeless. When she was working, she tended to forget about the total morbidness of her surroundings. She did her best to make the deceased as presentable to the public as one could, under the circumstances.
Two marble tables, stark and barren, stood in the center of the white-tiled room. A single showerhead, used to clean the occasional toxic mess, hung from the ceiling. One of the tables held a body, with a white sheet draped over the deceased. The sheet appeared to have something beneath it, causing the center to rise slightly above the rest of the body.
“This is M-M-Mr. Frank. His viewing is s-s-scheduled for tomorrow a-a-afternoon.”
Ida placed her case of cosmetics on the floor next to the drain where body fluids were disposed of. Two years ago, she would’ve been on the table herself, her fear of germs killing her. Mavis hung the charcoal gray suit on a hook on the back of the door, where a white jacket hung lifelessly, like the body on the marble slab.
“I’ll j-j-just leave you to take c-c-care of M-m-mr. Frank,” Mr. Higginbotham said. “I’ll be upstairs if you need me.” Without giving either a chance to respond, he hurried up the stairs.
Mr. Frank’s body had been prepared at the hospital morgue. His skin had been scrubbed clean, his hai
r shampooed and conditioned. All the bodily fluids had been flushed away into some secret foul place that existed in the bowels of the hospital.
Mavis watched as Ida prepared her table, using a rolling metal tray like those used in the hospital. Mavis would assist her, then together they would arrange the specially designed suit. “I don’t have a photograph, so I’m hoping this man doesn’t need any stuffing,” Ida said. They wouldn’t remove the white sheet until she had all of her cosmetics, sponges, and brushes readied.
“That’s so crude, Ida. He must’ve been a sad soul to do this to himself.” Mavis’s eyes filled with tears, something she did every time they had a laying-out to perform. She was softhearted, truly grieving for those who had passed.
“I don’t mean to be crude, I just don’t like it when I have to ... patch them up,” Ida said as she straightened her set of brushes.
“I’m sure we can cover his ... wounds with the shirt’s collar. I might have to make a few adjustments. So”—Mavis took a deep breath—“are we ready?”
Ida scanned her tray. All of her tools were where they needed to be. She had several shades of face makeup and powders lined neatly in a row. “Yes, I’m ready. Time to work our magic.”
Mavis stood at the end of the marble table. Ida was on the right side, positioned in the middle near the corpse’s stomach. She reached up and carefully pulled the white sheet off the lifeless figure. Dropping the sheet on the floor, Ida looked at the man, and screamed, “He’s alive!”
Chapter 12
At loose ends while they waited for news of Chris, Toots and Abby took the dogs for an evening stroll on the beach.
Foaming waves rolled against the shoreline. Coco and Chester were in doggie heaven, each taking turns running to the edge of the water, sniffing around, then returning to walk alongside their human escorts. Both women were quiet, allowing the gentle, rolling sound of the ocean waves to soothe their frayed nerves. Lights from the assorted houses dotted the beachside. An occasional burst of laughter, mingled with varied accents, could be heard off in the distance.
Toots discovered they’d wandered farther down the beach than she had thought. “Let’s head back now. Everyone should be returning soon. I hope Goebel or Sophie have some good news. I could certainly use some.”
Abby called for Chester and Coco, who were frolicking in the sand about ten yards farther down the beach, but didn’t bother putting their leashes back on. They knew the routine.
“Me too. I’m still at a complete loss. Chris just doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who would take off without telling anyone. I know he likes his privacy, but this isn’t normal. Tell me this, Mom, and don’t sugarcoat it for my sake. Do you believe Chris could be involved in Laura Leigh’s disappearance?”
Toots walked beside Abby, taking a minute to consider her question. She’d raised Chris since he was in his early teens. She’d been more than a bit surprised when he’d welcomed her with open arms as his stepmother. He’d lost his mother, and was thrilled when she and Garland married. He had never exhibited any disturbing behavior as a young boy. He made fantastic grades in school, never took up with a bad crowd, his friends were all decent, all with goals and ambitions and parents who cared. She and Garland had been very involved in their children’s lives. Surely, if Chris had suffered from some mental disorder, something that could explain his possible involvement in the young woman’s disappearance, she would’ve spotted it. She’d been around the block a time or two, knew what was normal behavior and what wasn’t. Toots was positive Chris had not gone off the deep end. There had to be a plausible explanation for his apparent disappearance. Probably not a simple one, but plausible. They would have to be patient and wait. If Chris thought she and Abby were having this kind of discussion, he would be terribly hurt. No, Toots did not believe for even a second that Chris was in any way involved in Laura Leigh’s disappearance.
“I just don’t see him wrapped up in something so ... torrid. To answer your question, I am one hundred percent sure Chris has nothing to do with Laura and the fact that she’s missing.”
Abby shook her head. “I wish I felt that way, too, but I don’t. That’s not to say I think he’s ... harmed Laura, but it’s just too much of a coincidence for me to believe he isn’t with her. They could be shacked up somewhere, who knows? Maybe they went to Vegas and got married. There are so many possibilities, they’re endless.” She said the last words quickly, her heart squeezing with each word.
Toots reached for Abby’s hand. “I hope you’re wrong.” She paused. “Look, Abby, I know your feelings for Chris are more than friendly.”
“Mom, let’s not go there,” Abby said, though she couldn’t deny her feelings.
“Why not? I love you and Chris. You have my seal of approval. You didn’t grow up together. You barely knew each other. Besides, I can see the way you two are when you’re together. It’s obvious you’re both head over heels in love, so why not acknowledge it and accept it for what it is?”
“If it were that simple, trust me, I would. But it’s not. Chris hasn’t ... I haven’t ... neither of us has admitted what we feel. I’m not sure I could at this point.”
They continued to walk, their pace unhurried. Toots wanted Abby to experience the kind of love Toots had felt for Abby’s father. If Abby wasn’t convinced Chris was the love of her life, then so be it. After eight marriages, Toots felt she was in the position to offer her daughter sound advice. “You will know if he’s the right one. It’s simple advice, but it is what it is. When I met your father, I fell in love on our second date.” Toots smiled at the memory. She and John had met on a blind date, hitting it off immediately. On their second, she knew he was going to play a very important role in her life. And he had. She’d had a perfect marriage, it just hadn’t lasted long enough. Only the good die young, she thought, as she reminisced about Abby’s father.
“Let’s get through this first. If Chris is the man I think he is, he’ll have a perfectly sensible explanation.”
“At this point, I don’t think any explanation will be ‘perfectly sensible.’ It’s been too long. If he knows what’s happening, he should’ve called. If he hasn’t, I’m thinking he ...” Abby paused. She didn’t know what she was thinking. “I know something is wrong, Mom. I just know it. I can feel it in my gut.”
“Of course. That’s obvious. This isn’t like the Chris we all know and love,” Toots said.
“Maybe we don’t know him as well as we thought. He’s been in LA for a long time. People change. This is a totally different place from Charleston. Maybe Chris is being the person he thinks the world expects him to be,” Abby suggested.
Toots considered her daughter’s words. As much as she hated to disagree with Abby, she felt Chris was exactly the man he appeared to be. Just like his father. “I think you’re wrong, Abby, but time will tell.”
Lights from the deck shone in the distance, indicating the beach house wasn’t far away. “I hope so,” was all Abby could say.
Coco and Chester smelled home, and took off running, Chester stopping twice just to make sure Coco kept up with him. The two animals were madly in love. Abby could not help but smile. If only life were as simple for humans as it was for dogs.
“I’m sure Goebel will come up with something. He’s the best, according to Chris. He knows Chris; maybe he has something up his sleeve.” They walked up the steps leading to the deck where Coco and Chester sat panting. “I need to enlarge the doggie door for Chester,” Toots announced as an afterthought. They’d had a small one installed for Queen Coco, but Toots hadn’t so much as considered Chester when she’d chosen the dimensions.
“He’s fine, Mom,” Abby said. “I’ll get them some fresh water. I know you want to smoke one of those icky cigarettes.”
Toots smiled. Her Marlboros and lighter lay on the table next to the seashell ashtray. “I just need a puff or two. Why don’t you start a pot of coffee? I’m sure Goebel and the girls will want some when they return.”
Sitting in her favorite deck chair, Toots lit up, and sucked the smoke into her lungs as if it were oxygen and she had just spent a minute underwater. She really wanted to quit, and someday she would. But it was not going to be that day. Or the next. When they located Chris and the missing girl, well then she might consider it. Maybe she would invest in one of those newfangled electronic cigarettes. They were all the rage—even though they seemed to carry some health risks, too.
Crushing her smoke out, she entered through the sliding glass door. Abby had busied herself making coffee, while Chester and Coco were curled up, side by side, in their favorite corner. Toots grabbed the remote and clicked on the television to the local news station that had been reporting on Laura Leigh’s disappearance. The slick-lipped reporter she disliked filled the small screen.
Abby looked over her shoulder. “Mom, let’s not listen to that crap she reports. We’re lucky if one-tenth of what she reports is true.”
“So far she’s been on the money, Abs.”
“Then it’s the first time. She sends the reporters out and doesn’t check their accuracy half the time. I can’t believe the station allows her to report a quarter of the stuff she reads from the teleprompter. She doesn’t even write her own copy most of the time.”
Toots ignored her daughter. As she heard the reporter’s words, she raised the volume.
“Los Angeles police are currently searching the Toyota Camry owned by Los Angeles entertainment attorney Christopher Clay. Our sources tell us the vehicle is being thoroughly checked for trace evidence such as hairs, fibers, and possibly blood. If any blood evidence is found, it is highly possible Miss Laura Leigh is the victim of foul play. While Mr. Clay has not been named a suspect, one would assume, if evidence is found in his vehicle, he will be upgraded from a person of interest. Mr. Clay’s mechanic called the Los Angeles Police Department after a BOLO—be on the lookout—for his vehicle was issued. The auto repair shop owner, David Williams of Poor Man’s, said Mr. Clay’s vehicle had been towed into the shop the same day Miss Leigh was reported missing.”
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