“Then I asked him who the loved one was that he was here in regards to. That’s when he got even louder. He said, ‘Me! It’s about me.’”
Deena looked up from her notes. “What did he mean by that? Was he wanting to preplan his own funeral?”
Jeffrey shook his head. “That’s what I thought too, but then he started mumbling that he wasn’t dead. That’s when I asked him his name, and he said it was Edwin Cooper. I said, ‘No. What is your name?’ He just kept proclaiming himself to be Edwin Cooper.” Jeffrey pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his forehead. “I knew that wasn’t true because we have a Mr. Edwin Cooper in the back.”
Deena cocked her head. “You mean, on ice? Six feet under? Dead?”
“We refer to them as the dearly departed, but yes. You get the picture. I thought perhaps this gentleman was the father, so I asked him if he was a relative.”
“Makes sense,” Deena said, wondering when the gun part was coming.
“Anyway, after a lot of yelling and gnashing of teeth, he demanded to see the body of Edwin Cooper. I told him that would be fine as long as he showed me some identification and that he was indeed a relative. The paperwork we had listed a son and granddaughter as next of kin.” Jeffrey’s face broke into a sly grin. “That’s when the old codger pulled out his wallet and sure enough, he didn’t have a driver’s license. He went wild at that point and pulled out a pistol from his pocket. That’s when I hit the panic button twice.”
“Panic button?” Deena asked.
“Yes. It’s here under my desk. One ring signals Jeanie to come in and help calm down the family members who are either in the clutches of grief or at each others’ throats over the funeral details. Two rings means to call the police.”
Who knew the mortuary could be such a dangerous place. “Do you use the panic button often?”
“More than you would think.”
Deena twisted in her chair. “What happened then?”
“I told him I could let him see the body. Of course, I had no intention of doing so.” He pointed to a plaque on the wall. “You don’t make Funeral Director of the Quarter by bending the rules.”
“Impressive.” Deena tapped her pen, waiting for the good part of the story.
“I took him first into the showroom, knowing I could kill some time. No pun intended.”
“The showroom has . . . what exactly?”
“Coffins.”
“Of course.” She’d never actually planned a funeral and wasn’t savvy as to the inner workings. “And then?”
“As soon as I showed him the Ultra Celestial 300, he was hooked. Worked like a charm. Before long, he wanted to know about fabric colors, handle finishes—the works. In fact, whenever he gets out of jail, I think I can sign him up as a customer. Do you know his real name? I’ll go ahead and fill out a potential lead form on him.” Jeffrey picked up a pen and looked at Deena expectantly.
“Yes,” she said, matching Jeffrey’s previous grin. “His name is Edwin Cooper.”
Chapter 2
Once Jeffrey Mortimer realized the body in the back of the funeral home may have been misidentified, he had no more time to talk to Deena. On her way to the police station, she stopped at the doughnut shop to get coffee and a newspaper. Surprisingly, there were no police officers there even though this was their favorite midmorning stop.
Deena liked the place because it didn’t have a barista who would spend five minutes using countless gadgets to fix a simple cup of coffee. It was also right across the parking lot from her friend Sandra Davis’s thrift shop. While the counter worker poured the two cups she ordered, she put two quarters in the slot on the rack and took out the newspaper. It always made Deena smile to know that the Tribune still used the little vending machines that operated on the honor system. Folks around Maycroft wouldn’t dare pay for a newspaper and then take more than one. Small-town life suited Deena like that.
Monday’s edition was always slim, and this week’s was no exception. In her hurry to get to the bank with Gary that morning, she hadn’t taken the time to read the newspaper at home.
Sure enough, at the start of section B in a small box was the obituary for Edwin Cooper, eighty-two years old. The only other information was that he was at the Mortimer Funeral Home. That was unusual. Most people in their small town had long obituaries chronicling the person’s life story. Whoever was working the obit desk must not have been able to contact any family members. She stuffed the newspaper into her satchel and headed for the police station.
She carried in the two tall cups of coffee. Luckily, Linda McKenzie was on duty at the front desk. “Hey, girl. I thought you could use some real coffee this morning.” She passed a cup to the officer.
“I don’t think he’ll want to talk to you right now,” Linda said. “He’s been barking orders at everyone. You know how he is when he barks.” She took the lid off the steaming cup of coffee and sniffed in the rich aroma.
“Like a junkyard dog,” Deena said and then laughed. “Actually, I have some information about the funeral home case. It might be helpful. Let me just knock on the door and hand him this coffee. If he throws me out, c’est la vie.”
Linda took a sip and then pushed the button to unlock the door to the office area. “Okay. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Detective Linus Guttman’s door was slightly ajar, but she didn’t dare enter without knocking first.
When she did, a deep, gruff voice asked, “What do you want?”
She pushed back the door slowly, entering coffee cup first. “Ding-dong. Avon calling.”
“What took you so long?” he said and reached for the cup.
Deena was stunned. The detective had never acted glad to see her before. “Really?”
“Of course not,” he said and snatched the cup. “Now scram. I’m busy.”
Deena took that as an invitation to sit down. Over the past few years, she and Detective Guttman had developed a love/hate relationship. She loved picking at him for information and he loved throwing her out of his office. “Besides the gift of caffeine, I come bearing information about Edwin Cooper.”
The transplanted Philadelphian wore Nikes and a white shirt and dark pants. He’d recently grown a beard to beef up his weak chin. Now that he was in a steady relationship, he’d added a few pounds to his slim frame. He definitely stood out from the Stetson-wearing, boot-loving, slow-talking Southern cops he worked with.
Leaning back in his chair, he slugged down the hot coffee like it was cool water. “If you’re here to tell me he’s not dead, save your breath.”
“Actually, I was going to tell you he’s my next-door neighbor and that he’s not dead. Although”—she fished the newspaper out of her bag—“this obituary says otherwise. Care to explain?”
He tossed the paper back at her. “It’s your newspaper. You tell me.”
“Jeffrey Mortimer said the body was identified by the Maycroft Police Department. I’m sure that’s where the misidentification started. And by the way, if Edwin Cooper is still alive, who is in the funeral home?” She tilted her head in mock confusion.
Guttman grabbed the receiver, mashed a button, and yelled into the phone, “Hitchcock! My office. Now!” He didn’t really need the phone. His voice was probably heard all the way down the corridor.
Hitchcock lumbered in, obviously unshaken by the boss’s temper. “Yes, sir?”
“Did you get ahold of the morgue? What did they say?”
Chewing on a toothpick, as usual, the officer folded his arms over his sizable paunch. “You ain’t gonna believe this. It was a clerical error. They’d called the next of kin in California but had to leave a message. Never got a positive ID. Somebody checked the wrong box on the paperwork.”
Guttman shook his head. “Call the DA and tell him what you told me.” He glanced at Deena. “And don’t talk to the press. I’m running point on this case now.”
Hitchcock grinned at Deena and tipped his hat. “Nice to
see you, Mrs. Sharpe.”
“Out!” Guttman yelled again.
Deena pulled out her notepad. “Care to make a statement?”
“You know that was off the record, right?” His tone had softened. “At least let me verify it with the coroner before you write anything.”
“As long as you keep me in the loop.” She loved having Guttman owe her a favor.
The detective nodded. “Now I need you to leave so I can get to the bottom of this.”
“Just one question. Where did the body come from in the first place?”
“Off the record?” Guttman stood up and leaned on his fists across the desk.
“For now,” Deena said.
“He was found dead of a heart attack at the Highway Café. Had Cooper’s ID and a bank slip on him. Seemed like an open-and-shut case. Widower living alone dies waiting on his breakfast.”
The thought made Deena shudder. “That’s awful.” She was glad it hadn’t been her neighbor Edwin, even though they’d had their differences in the past. “What now?”
“Now, you need to leave so we can identify this John Doe and figure out what to charge your neighbor with.”
Deena started to ask another question, but she recognized the “last nerve” look on Guttman’s face. “Okay, but call me if you get more information. The good people of Maycroft have a right to know.”
Guttman walked over and opened the door and then shut it quickly behind her.
As she walked past Linda at the front desk, Deena flashed a thumbs-up sign and the officer smiled back. She was lucky to have gotten as much information as she had out of the tight-lipped detective. When she turned around, she almost ran into Ian Davis.
“Hey, Ian. Are you representing Edwin Cooper?”
“Um, yes. How did you know?”
Bingo! Her day was getting better and better.
* * *
IAN DAVIS WAS THE HUSBAND of Deena’s best friend, Sandra. Not only were she and Gary godparents to their daughter, but Deena had worked for a time as an investigator at his law firm. He was a public defender and handled a lot of the criminal cases in town since most of his colleagues didn’t like getting their hands dirty. When some of his funding fell through, he had to let Deena go and that’s when she was hired back at the newspaper.
“You weren’t assigned his case as a public defender, were you? Edwin Cooper isn’t an indigent.”
“No, he hired me a while back to take care of his will. I remember he said if I was a good enough attorney for Mrs. Sharpe, I was good enough for him.”
That surprised Deena. Her mother-in-law, Sylvia, had gotten to know him a bit, but she didn’t know Edwin knew her family’s private business. “Are you going in to see him now?”
“Yes, and I need to get going. We might have a statement later.”
Deena missed the days when she would go back to interview clients alongside Ian. She knew he wouldn’t reveal any confidential information, even to her. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to ask. As Ian walked up to the desk to check in, she asked, “Is it true Edwin tried to steal a body at gunpoint?”
As expected, Ian shook his head at her. “No comment.”
She was not to be deterred. She had until three o’clock to get her story in to make tomorrow’s edition. Walking out to her car, she called Dan to tell him what she had. He told her he would save her six inches in section B, fully expecting the story to develop further as they learned more about John Doe and why he was identified as Edwin Cooper.
Deena checked her watch. It was almost lunchtime. She thought about calling Gary but decided just to drive over to Las Abuelas to see if he was still there.
Sitting in their favorite booth on the far side of the restaurant was one of the most handsome men Deena had ever seen. Wearing a blue suit and crisp white shirt, he looked like a menswear model. His graying hair made him look intelligent and thoughtful and younger than his sixty years. She walked up to the man and he flashed a bright smile.
Gary had waited for her.
Chapter 3
“How did you know I’d come?” Deena asked as she stared into her husband’s contented face.
“Because I know you. It’s not like we haven’t been married since the Ice Age.” He pushed the basket of chips and bowl of salsa closer to her. “Hungry?”
“Starving.” Deena munched a few chips and took a drink of water. “What did I miss?”
Gary leaned back. “Scott and I discussed how we would arrange the office space, while Vera and Scott’s wife planned the decorating.”
Deena lifted an eyebrow.
“Yeah. You might need to check on that. I heard Vera mention something about a ‘theme.’”
“Oh my.” Deena wiped her mouth and took another drink of water to put out the fire ignited by the spicy salsa. “Sounds like it was a working lunch, then.”
Gary’s lips curled into a weak smile. “Until Vera finished her margarita and started singing karaoke.”
“But they don’t have karaoke here.”
“Exactly.”
Deena laughed. “You knew when you hired her away from the vineyard that she was a character.”
“I know. She’ll be fine.” He leaned back and crossed his legs. “There was one funny thing that happened after you left the bank. You know that woman, Marcie something, who works in new accounts?”
Deena tried to picture her. “The one who always has Chinese takeout on her desk and holds the bun on top of her head with chopsticks?”
Laughing, Gary nodded. “Well, she came bursting into Jake’s office, slammed down her letter of resignation, and yelled, ‘I’m outta here!’ Jake turned three shades of red and couldn’t stop apologizing.”
“That’s weird. I wonder what that was about.”
“Apparently, everything’s not roses and clover down at the bank.” He reached out and covered her hand with his. “Now what about you? What’s this new case?”
She filled him in on Edwin Cooper and the funeral home incident.
A vein in his neck bulged when she mentioned the gun. “Are you saying Dan Carson sent you to a crime scene with an active shooter?”
“He knows I have enough sense to be careful, and so should you.”
This was old territory for Deena and Gary. He always worried she’d get herself killed or seriously injured, and she always assured him she’d be careful. Luckily, he let it go this time without too much of a fuss.
The waitress came over to see if Deena wanted to order anything. She declined. The water and chips had blown up in her stomach.
Gary asked for the check, then turned his attention back to Deena’s story. “Do they know who the dead man is at the funeral home? Has anyone been reported missing?”
She started to answer when her cell phone dinged, alerting her of a text message. Before she could check it, the phone rang. “It’s Guttman.” She put the phone to her ear. “Hello?”
“I just sent you a picture of our John Doe. See if you can put it in the paper so we can get an ID on this guy. I’ve got officers canvassing the streets, but we can use all the help we can get.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” The phone clicked and Guttman had hung up.
The waitress brought over the tab, and Gary signed the receipt. “What did he want?”
Deena looked at the photo in her phone and waited for the waitress to leave. She showed it to Gary. “This is the dead guy.”
“Eww.” He turned away. “Thanks for showing me that.”
“Guttman wants us to put the picture in the newspaper to try to get an identification.”
“Just what everyone wants to see with their oatmeal at breakfast—a corpse.” Gary carefully placed the receipt in his wallet. The man was obsessive when it came to business expenses.
“I know, right? I need to call Dan and see what he says.” They got up to leave. “And you drive. I don’t like being responsible for your baby.”
Gary’s face dropped. “You remembered to park it—”
“Yes, yes. It’s on the last row in the back of the parking lot with empty spaces on either side.”
Gary let out his breath.
She didn’t mention how she had squeezed the Mercedes into a visitors’ spot at the police station. What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.
Gary drove while Deena called Dan.
“Absolutely not,” Dan said when he saw the John Doe photo she’d forwarded him. “We have a strict policy against showing photos of dead people. Do you know how many phone calls I would get and how many subscriptions would be canceled?”
Deena held the phone off her ear a bit. “Okay, okay. I get it. I told Guttman I’d ask.”
“There is one thing we could do,” Dan said. She could hear him tapping the pencil on his desk. “If they get an artist’s sketch of the guy, we could run that.”
Deena said she was on her way home to write her story and would call the detective to see what he said. After hanging up, she looked at Gary. “He said no.”
“Yeah, I got that from over here.” He pulled into Butterfly Gardens, their cozy development in what the residents liked to call the suburbs of Maycroft.
It was that time of year when the vegetation didn’t know what to do. In Texas, early March brought on anticipation of spring break for schools but was still too early for the trees to bud. Some did, but they would discover a lot of rain would keep the weather damp and dreary.
Deena hopped out of the car in the driveway, anxious to see if Edwin had been sprung from the pokey. She wasn’t surprised when he didn’t answer the doorbell. Ian Davis was a good lawyer, but even he couldn’t make the sluggish wheels of Maycroft’s justice system turn that fast.
As she headed across the yard toward her house, she noticed Edwin’s lawn more barren than she remembered. Sure, most everyone’s grass was yellowed, but his had big patches where the grass had died. She realized then that she’d not seen much of him lately. He often sat on his porch drinking coffee so he could keep an eye on the neighbors as they picked up their morning newspapers or headed off to work. Where had he been?
Stay Sharpe Box Set Page 32