“What is it exactly we’re looking for?” she asked.
“I was kind of hoping it would jump out at us,” I informed her, moving toward a cabinet that looked to house the requisite tools for cracking open corpses. Although my earlier trepidation had subsided, I was still grossed out at my latest thought and failed to stifle my gag.
“I’d rather it didn’t actually ‘jump’,” Fae Lynn corrected, “but it’d help to know what direction we’re looking.”
“Maybe the first thing to do would be to look at a dead body,” I said, somewhat rhetorical. I pulled out a drawer with a flourish to fight the waves of ick that threatened to overwhelm me. Unfortunately, the first thing I saw was big ole blue toe, with a big ole white tag. And the toe was missing its toenail. I didn’t even manage to shut the drawer, running across the white linoleum to the big red trash can labeled, BIOHAZARDOUS WASTE…
Which was exactly what came out of me as I spewed up Coke and then dry heaved until my queasiness subsided. Fae Lynn came to hold my hair and then handed me a rough hospital issue paper towel when I’d finished. I wiped my mouth and placed the towel in the bin with my vomit.
“Which one was it?” she asked, and I pointed at the drawer third from the top, fourth row over. She stalked over and pulled it out, examining the tag on his toe. “It says he’s to be cremated,” she told me. I nodded weakly.
“He’s also missing his toe nails,” I informed her. She looked back down.
“Huh. Yep.” She pulled the drawer out farther and inspected one of his hands. “No fingernails either,” she announced.
“Fae Lynn, what is going on?” She rolled her eyes at me.
"Well, it looks like someone took off his toenails, unless he had some degenerative disease that ate them.” She lifted the tag again. “Nope, he died of a heart attack.” I picked myself up from my slumped position next to the waste disposal bin and went to the first row of oversized filing cabinets, filled with an idea.
“Okay, start on that side. Look at the tag to see if they’re to be cremated, and if they are, see if they’re missing anything.” Fae Lynn looked at me, equal parts impressed and apprehensive as she moved to follow my directions.
“Why cremated?”
“Ronnie said the body was set to be cremated and the widow changed her mind.”
For over thirty minutes we looked at dead bodies, which by the way, are not attractive. I made the hasty decision to ask to be cremated when I died, but when I discovered that all toes tagged to be incinerated were left with no nail to cover their nasty nail beds, I changed my mind.
Luckily, not all the drawers were full; between the two of us, we only had to examine seven bodies. But the discovery that every single body headed for the crematorium was missing certain parts of its anatomy was both disturbing and disgusting. We also found a suspicious scar across the chest of what appeared to be a twenty something male athlete who’d died from head trauma and not heart trouble as it looked like. We weren’t sure someone had stolen his heart, literally, but let’s say we were suspicious. Having found what we considered sufficient evidence to incriminate someone, of something, anything, we headed silently back up to daylight.
Fae Lynn and I stepped off the elevator with silent, simultaneous sighs of relief. We rounded the corner toward the entrance of Brooks Regional and Fae Lynn boinged off the belly of Char’s father-in-law, Big Jim Handler. I hoisted her up by the armpits as she untangled her legs. Big Jim reached out a meaty hand to help and chuckled heartily.
“Girly, I do apologize. These linoleum hallways aren’t supposed to make anyone stealthy, but I didn’t even hear you and, I sure didn’t see you.” Big Jim was a contemporary of Cash’s daddy and Charlie. A bit older than my parents, he ran both a used car lot and a rent-to-own furniture store. He’d also run uncontested for mayor last go-round and was serving his second term this year.
Big Jim had always kind of given me the creeps. He was a little too touchy, a little too leering, and the used car salesman adage was dead on. He was overweight in a florid, daily-drinking sort of way. He wore polyester pantsuits, grey alligator skin cockroach killers, and his cheap cigar was a constant figure in his stubby fingers. His face was pockmarked, his hair was greasy, and his eyes were squinty through his puffy face. How Char’s husband, Aaron, had come from this, no one knew, although Aaron’s mama had been a looker once upon a time.
“No worries, no harm done.” Fae Lynn dusted off her backside, and Jim reached out an overly proprietary hand to dust off her front side. She backed away and offered him a grimacing smile. I rolled my eyes inwardly.
“What are you girls doing here? Got a sick relative?” Crap. Lying is not at all my forte. Fortunately, Fae Lynn was excellent.
“Sure, Brandy’s Aunt Lolly’s having a little procedure. We came to bring her some breakfast.” Dang, she was smooth. He cocked a scraggily eyebrow and eyed her.
“Nice of ya.”
“Yep, we’re nothing if not nice. It was sure nice to see you, tell your wife we said hello.” We started to back away in order to edge around him. He stepped forward and blocked us; on purpose, I’m not sure.
“Miss Lilly, I heard you were representing Cash Stetson.”
“Well it’s all over town, so you heard right. I don’t know how long that’s going to last, though. He’s not the best client.” He tipped his head and eyed me much like he’d eyed Fae Lynn.
“Careful you don’t find out more about your client than you want to. Divorces tend to dig up more dirt than anyone can shove under the rug.” I started and tried to cover up an involuntary shudder.
“Any sort of secret in particular?” I asked, not that I really wanted to know.
“Nope.” He smiled a tobacco-stained grin and took his berth a little too close to us as he began his mosey down the hall. “See you girls, later. Tell that daughter-in-law of mine that if she isn’t going to work, she needs to get started breeding, instead of spending my money.” He winked nastily.
Fae Lynn and I took off at a smart clip, wanting away from the hospital smells and Big Jim’s cigar stank.
“That man gives me the everlovin’ creeps,” Fae Lynn harrumphed.
“What do you think he was doing here anyway? Is Aaron’s mama sick?”
“Not that I know of. That’s an interesting question, though. Was he heading toward Cash’s office?”
“Maybe. What business would he have with Cash, though?” She shrugged her shoulders.
“Who knows, maybe some ‘town-father’ crap. Cash’s job tends to be more political than anything else. I don’t know how much actual practicing of medicine he actually does.” We hit the front doors and didn’t slow down until we’d reached the Jeep. Luckily, the encounter with Big Jim had distracted me enough that I no longer wanted to toss my cookies, but I was more than a little unsettled, beyond finding the corpses in the various states we’d found them. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.
After a car ride filled with useless, distracting prattle, I dropped Fae Lynn back off at home so she could take Hazzard to soccer camp and then head to work. She climbed out of the car worriedly, looking like she desperately wanted a shower, as I know I did. She turned back to me.
“Let’s not say anything to anyone just yet, ‘kay Lilly?” she asked, her usual sarcasm and bite drained out of her. I smiled reassuringly and shook my head.
“Like they’d believe us anyway.”
Chapter Nineteen
A few days later I was on the phone whining to Fae Lynn about not having a secretary. She succinctly informed me that I did not have enough clients to warrant a need for a secretary, and that I needed to get over myself. I was trying in vain to convince her how I couldn’t function without someone to organize my practice, albeit tiny and not so income-producing compared to the one I’d amassed in Dallas. I heard the bell over the front door tinkle, accompanied by the tilled calling of my name and a loud crash.
“What the hell?!” Fae Lynn exclaimed. “Is that T
ina coming to finish you?”
“Shut up, that’s not funny.” I admonished her. “Actually, that sounded suspiciously like Nonnie. I’ll call you back.” I said with a sigh.
“Hey!” Fae Lynn snapped, interrupting my thoughts. “You coming over for dinner?”
“Only if I can cook,” I teased. Fae Lynn was famous for her mashed potatoes and cheesecake out of the box. Cooking was one of the few domestic skills I possessed, and it had been a running joke that while she and Scotty, had been dating, every time she wanted to cook for him, she called me and I usually ended up doing it. This behavior had carried on throughout the beginning of their marriage when she had to take food to his family functions. It was only after her own disastrous attempt to copy my Mexican Shrimp Cocktail recipe that she confessed to her mother-in-law how horrible she was in the kitchen. Considering I didn’t clean and all my clothes usually went to the dry cleaners (I’d have sent the towels if I wasn’t afraid of the funny looks), it made me feel better to hold the one skill I possessed over her head.
“You’ll eat my casserole and like it, you snobby Texan,” she threw back.
“I am not a Texan!” I shouted.
“Then you’d better get the tag on that Jeep changed, cause people are starting to worry about you,” I turned at the sound of Nonnie’s voice. She had on a pencil skirt covering her skinny little legs I often wished I’d inherited instead of Mama’s dancer’s thighs, and a bright red button up top with French cuffs. Her pearls were in place and she’d put on red and cream designer vintage spectator pumps that I wished my big feet could fit into because dang were they cute. She was carrying a clipboard and had a pencil tucked behind her ear. I surveyed her and started to worry as the niggling of an idea as to what was going on started to ferment in my head. I heard another loud crash and watched Nonnie angle her body out of the doorway and yell, “Careful! Those are antiques.” She turned back to me. “You people have no respect for the classics these days,” she shook her head.
“Nonnie…” I started slowly, “What is going on?”
“Lilly, we all know you couldn’t organize your way out of a paper bag, and your Daddy’s gotten distracted from finding you an assistant, so here I am.” she pirouetted precariously on the heels. “How do I look?” she crowed, fluttering her eyelashes.
“Umm, well, uh…” I searched for words.
“I know. Speechless,” she chortled triumphantly, bustling over to my desk to gather and drop all my scattered pens in the penholder. “I figured this was a pretty good outfit for a legal assistant, but I’m going to have to go shopping. These heels are probably going to kill me before the day’s over. Do you have plans on Saturday? Maybe I could take a personal day, considering it’s business related. Although you really need me here. I’ve got tons to do, organizational-wise. They’re bringing in my desk as we speak, and I ordered a new phone system and a new fax machine. Your daddy’s bringing up one of his old computer’s, but I think I’ll order a laptop; that seems more professional, don’t you think?” she paused long enough from her prattling to look inquisitively at me. Holy shit. And oh well.
“Sounds great, Nonnie. Have at it.”
I went back to my Google search of black market body parts. Legal research happens to be a pretty straightforward process. If you know what you’re looking for. Which I currently most certainly did not. Usually there was certain technical jargon that lawyers call ‘terms of art’ that you could use to search and sift through your system of choice. Like ‘will,’ ‘probate,’ ‘tort,’ ‘murder,’ etc. But I sincerely doubted if stolen femurs were in such a system. Every lawyer had a favorite preferred search tool, but I doubted they were going to pop up no matter which one I chose.
I was right. After two hours, I decided to give up and head home, crossing my fingers for leftover chicken and biscuits.
I was loading my tote in the Jeep when Charlie Locke’s shadow leaned into the light.
“What were you doing at the hospital?” His thick Southern drawl spilled out from under his thick, gray mustache. Startled, I slammed my hand in the door and ruined my manicure.
“Crap Charlie, warn a girl would you?”
“I weigh almost three hundred pounds, kid. It’s not like I could pull a sneak attack if I tried. What have you got on your mind that you’re so distracted?” I sighed and rested my hip against the Jeep door.
“There’s something going on in this town.”
“Always, kid. You’ve just been shielded.”
“I don’t like it.”
“I’m not much for hugging, so I’ll tell you to buck up, that’s life in the big city.”
“This is a small town.”
“The smaller the pond, the dirtier the water.”
“Yuck.” Charlie rolled his eyes and shifted his circa 1969 briefcase.
“What you got?” He indulged me. I recounted the details of my conversations with Ronnie, Kelli, and the trip to the morgue with Fae Lynn, nausea again growing in my stomach. He didn’t have a reaction until I was done and then rolled his eyes again.
“Huh. Can’t help you. Other than it sounds like it’s all starting at the hospital. One piece of advice, though.”
“Yeah?”
“You’re an attorney, not a detective.”
“Apparently not everyone thinks so.”
“Who gives a crap what everyone thinks? Be an attorney.”
“This from the man that did his own P.I. work and broke his arm falling out of a tree trying to take pictures of a possible affair.”
“That was when I couldn’t afford a P.I. You need to be careful, Lilly. You’re way too cute to be dead.” I sent him my own eye roll.
“I’m way too cute to kill, Charlie.” He rearranged his bulk and tipped his nonexistent hat to me.
“You’re just not as cute as you think you are, kid.”
Chapter Twenty
“Allllll my exes live in Texas,” I warbled onstage at Chester’s, “that’s why I came back to Brooks and No-onnie.”
The office had been hopping all afternoon. Thankfully for my bank account, my office door had become a revolving one. After Cash’s presence had announced that I was back and open for business, my old friends, my parent’s friends and just plain nosy citizens had been in to offer condolences on my wedding, ask about Cash’s case, and give me advice on my life. Not necessarily in that order. Thankfully, after they accomplished their real mission, they usually enlisted my services in some matter of the law. I’d started proceedings on two probate contests, attended a child-custody hearing, bailed two drunks out of jail, and given countless advice on buying houses, cows, land, and cars. I guess it was a sign that I’d taken the Oklahoma bar exam after the Texas one. Consciously, I’d never planned to come back, but my natural instincts to cover all my bases had been a blessing. Nonnie sitting up front didn’t hurt business either.
In the past few weeks, the files of documents to create wills, living trusts and estates had piled up on my desk. Apparently, all the old people in Brooks needed their affairs solidified. I had a sneaking suspicion that Nonnie had twisted some arms, but I wasn’t looking a gift horse in the mouth.
I’d felt pretty productive when I’d left the office, but by nine I was still pretty antsy, so Tally and I had gone to blow off some steam and we’d ended up at karaoke night at Chester’s doing shots of Southern Comfort and lime. I finished my song and stepped offstage to overzealous applause. I cannot sing. I would imagine the applause was mostly for my low-cut top. I weaved my way toward Tally and some cute boy stacked with muscles. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Spencer Locke sitting at the bar, nursing a highball filled with ice and a clear mixture. He looked my way and nodded, and a flash hit me in places that hadn’t seen any action in quite some time. I suddenly saw him on a lazy Sunday afternoon, with fried chicken and … pie. I shook off the fantasy and returned the nod, continuing toward my little sister, bumping into a table in the process.
“Hey, y’all, how�
��s it going?” I said, perky and swaying.
“Swell,” Tally smiled as she played handsie with Mr. Muscles. “I’m ready to go. You ready?”
“No,” I said indignantly, “I think I’m gonna sing again.”
“I wish you wouldn’t,” Tally asserted. “Oh, shit,” she said as she looked past my shoulder toward the door, “Trouble with a capital C just showed up. It is now time to go. Tate, it was nice to catch up with you. I’ll be seeing you.”
I turned and ran smack into Cash Stetson himself.
“Can we talk, Lil?” He nodded curtly at Tally and her latest conquest. I could feel the volumetric force of my sister’s hair as she shook her head. I was safe, though. Shots or not, I had my head about me.
“Yes. But not here. Outside.” He dragged the longneck bottle to his mouth and took a decided swig, setting the amber glass on a nearby table and turning to go.
Tally stepped in between us before I could follow.
“No, and hell no, and for all that is holy, just no,” she implored me emphatically.
“I’m okay,” I told her, removing her fingernails from my arm and giving them to Tate, “I need to fire him.” She acquiesced with a nod and a noticeable lack of disappointment this time.
I ignored all the stares and the beginning buzz of blather and headed across the beer-sticky floor.
We hit the night breeze, and I sighed in relief. The Oklahoma air went a long way toward sobering up my semi-tipsy state. I turned around before we hit the edge of the parking lot. Too fast, apparently, because I felt the parking lot spin and the lights flash. For the record, I was not drunk. I may have been a little schnockered, but ladies do not get drunk.
“You’re fired. I cannot be your attorney. I’ve never done a divorce in my life, and really don’t feel like starting with you. Find someone else.” Cash just stood gaping like a fish. I don’t mean that in a mean way, he really did look like a fish.
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