Down and Dirty

by Liliana Hart

  “We knew you’d be late, dear,” Jack’s mother called out. “There’s no point in having all this money if you can’t make things more convenient, so we’re coming to you. Now get inside and strip down so you can deal with your dead.”

  I saw one of the dress shop girls sway and she paled as she eyed all the activity going in and out of the funeral home. I smiled and winked at Jack. “This might be fun after all.”

  “Bad girl, Doctor Graves,” he said, shaking his head with a smile.

  I waved him off and then followed Mrs. Lawson’s instructions. She’d walloped my behind on more than one occasion as a child, and I wouldn’t put it past her to do it now that I was an adult.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Mrs. Lawson was a force to be reckoned with, and she’d been more of a parent to me than my mother had. I knew what parental love was supposed to feel like because of her, and I loved her as if she were my own.

  I had such weird feelings about my parents. They were my parents, so there was that familial loyalty that was almost ingrained. And there were plenty of good memories to go along with the bad. I’d never been mistreated, but their love for each other had always been greater than their love for me. And their preoccupation with the illegal extracurricular activities they’d been involved in had left me with a lot of alone time in the house by myself, sometimes for days. And sometimes I wouldn’t see them for weeks, so Jack would come get me and I’d pack a bag to stay at the Lawson house.

  It was through Jack’s parents I’d gotten to see what a real family should be like. Mr. and Mrs. Lawson loved each other and they loved the child they’d made together. They had fun and did things on weekends. And they disciplined with a firm hand if needed, but always with love. Sometimes I’d stand back and just watch them as a unit, separating myself from the equation, and wonder at that palpable love. How they’d just grin at each other for no reason and know that they’d always be there for each other, through the good times and bad.

  Mrs. Lawson was a small woman, maybe an inch over five feet, with small, elegant bones and a petite frame. She was in her mid-fifties but looked much younger. Her hair was as dark as Jack’s, but where his eyes were dark like his father’s, Mrs. Lawson’s were a pale, clear blue. Her size had never kept her from accomplishing anything she wanted to. Including getting me to strip down to nothing and stand on the dais in viewing room three.

  “I’ve got to say, this is awkward.” I resisted the urge to cover my bare breasts with my arm while one of the women—her name was Marguerite—wrapped a measuring tape around my waist and hips. “I usually don’t get naked in front of people until I’ve known them for at least twenty minutes.”

  “I used to be that way too, darling,” Mrs. Lawson said. “You’ll get less picky as you get older. Especially if you’re going through menopause. One day you’ll find yourself naked in the frozen food aisle of the Piggly Wiggly and have no recollection of how you got there.” She winked and went back to examining the veils that another one of the women had whipped out of her bag.

  “I’m certainly looking forward to that,” I said. “Because I haven’t given people enough to talk about in this town.”

  “They’d talk no matter what you did. Might as well make it interesting.” She pursed her lips in concentration. “I just don’t know about these veils.”

  I wasn’t too sure either. I wasn’t much of a veil person. Or a wedding dress person for that matter. But I figured I’d let the more experienced folks make the decisions.

  “Your body is quite nice for someone your age,” Marguerite told me. She was a small Hispanic woman somewhere between the age of forty-five and ninety. “Of course that’ll all change the moment you have children.”

  “That’s the God’s honest truth,” Mrs. Lawson said. “But they’re mostly worth it. Except for the times they’re not. And then the best medicine is a healthy glass of wine and a hot bath. Remember these talks, Jaye. You’re like a daughter to me, so I want you to be prepared.”

  “You’re certainly making me want to start a family right away. I don’t know what’s been holding us back.” I said it straight-faced and Mrs. Lawson chuckled. “Are we almost done here?”

  Marguerite rolled her eyes. “You haven’t even tried the dress on yet. And you’ve lost weight since the initial fitting.”

  “It’s been a busy week. Everyone waited to die until right before my wedding.”

  “You’re a strange girl. What kind of woman spends all her time with dead people?”

  “One that doesn’t particularly like to talk to living people. Except for Jack. Which is why I’m marrying him.”

  I wasn’t a delicate kind of girl. I knew how to work hard and get my hands dirty. I’d grown up with four guys for best friends and learned to do all the stuff guys like to do. I could swear with the best of them and out sarcasm any of the cops. It’s not that there weren’t times when I enjoyed being or looking more feminine—dressing up for dinner or surprising Jack with pretty lingerie—it’s just that my career and Bloody Mary didn’t give me the opportunity that often.

  So when the two other ladies came at me with a contraption of horror and squeezed me into it—touching me in places I was pretty sure my gynecologist hadn’t—I wondered how close to the door I could get before Mrs. Lawson tackled me to the ground.

  “Don’t even think about it, Jaye.”

  I sighed—or would have if I could’ve taken a breath. I turned and looked at myself in the mirror they’d propped against the wall and my mouth dropped open.

  “Holy crap. Look at my boobs.” I reached up to feel them to make sure they were really mine. “I could hurt someone with these puppies.” My hands trailed down the lacy contraption, marveling at the smallness of my waist and the flare of my hips. “This is pure deception. The lingerie industry should be ashamed of themselves.”

  “All the way to the bank, I’m sure,” Mrs. Lawson said. “And it’s not deception. It’s just amplifying the assets you already have. It’s like when you drink coffee in the morning. Your brain is already in your head. But the coffee makes sure you can use it to the best of your ability.”

  “I guess when you put it like that—not to mention it’ll knock Jack’s socks off.”

  “And the rest of his clothes if you’re doing it right.”

  “Good grief,” I said, watching my cheeks flush red in the mirror. “I can’t talk about this with you. He’s your son.”

  “Girl, you were talking about this stuff with me when you were sixteen and stupid with it. And again at twenty-one, twenty-four, and thirty if my memory serves me right. At least now you’re doing it with the right man. And word on the street is he’s pretty good at it, so thank your lucky stars. I know plenty of women who’ve been stuck with a man who wouldn’t know a clitoris if it was attached to their forehead. There’s a reason half the kids in this town look like Billy McQueen.”

  I pinched my lips tight and glanced at the door again in hopes of escape. Those bodies were starting to look more appealing by the second.

  Almost as if I’d conjured it, Vaughn knocked and stuck his head in.

  “Damn, woman. You could put someone’s eye out with those things.” His brows rose almost to his hairline as he came all the way inside and shut the door behind him. “How have I known you for more than thirty years and never realized you had breasts before?”

  “To be fair, have you ever noticed that any woman has breasts?”

  “An excellent point. Yours are lovely, by the way. I brought you a sandwich and a cup of coffee. Jack said you hadn’t eaten.”

  “God, I love that man.”

  “Umm…I made you the sandwich. How about a little credit where credit is due.”

  “I love you too. Now please give me that sandwich before I hurt you.”

  “Not until after you try the dress on,” Mrs. Lawson said. “That’s all you need is a mustard stain down the front of your wedding gown.”

  “It’ll be very avant-garde,
” Vaughn said. “A new trend in designer wedding gowns everywhere.”

  “It’ll look like Jaye spilled mustard on her wedding gown,” she said, exasperated. “I swear every hair on my head I have to color is because of you kids.”

  “Can we just put the gown on?” I asked. “I can smell that coffee and I’m not above killing everyone in this room for it and shoving you all in my freezer.”

  Marguerite and the other ladies gasped, their eyes wide and mouths hanging open.

  “She can be a real bitch without coffee,” Vaughn said. “But she won’t kill anyone. She doesn’t have any more room in the freezer, so you’re safe.”

  I snickered and waited while Marguerite unzipped the garment bag and pulled out the dress. It was a long column of delicate lace and silk, and I immediately broke out in a sweat. I couldn’t remember the last time I made it through a day without getting blood or something else on my clothes. I couldn’t imagine what I’d do to that beautiful white dress.

  I guess it wasn’t really white—more of a creamy color that Marguerite said would complement my skin better than stark white. I’d been adamant about not wearing anything poofy or that made me resemble a whipped dessert. I was a doctor, for Christ’s sake. I wanted to get married with a little dignity.

  One of the ladies held out a hand so I could keep my balance and I stepped carefully into the dress. I held my breath as she pulled it up, wondering when I’d become the kind of person to let someone else dress me. I slipped my arms into the lacy cap sleeves and then waited for the final result as she fastened the long row of buttons down my back. It suddenly became very obvious why I needed someone to dress me.

  “Oh, Jaye. How lovely.” Mrs. Lawson’s eyes were damp and her hands were clasped in front of her chest.

  I was afraid to look. That fear and the butterflies rumbling in my stomach were exactly what had me raising my chin and meeting my gaze in the mirror. I almost didn’t recognize myself.

  Mrs. Lawson had been right about the lingerie. It just emphasized what was already there, so the sleek column of lace hugged curves I didn’t know I had. The dress had a nostalgic feel to it—something that would have been worn during my great-grandmother’s era—but it seemed to fit me. A healthy bit of cleavage showed in the front and a small train pooled behind me.

  “I don’t think you need the veil,” Mrs. Lawson said. “Simple is best. Do you have your mother’s pearls?”

  “They’re in the safe deposit box,” I answered. “But I’m not wearing them.” I wasn’t one to place a lot of importance on symbols or superstition, but I didn’t want anything to taint my day with Jack. And that included memories of my parents.

  Mrs. Lawson nodded and said, “You’ll wear mine then. The dress calls for them.” She clapped her hands together and the spell seemed to break, putting everyone in motion again.

  Marguerite pinned a couple of places that needed to be hemmed, and then the dress was whisked away and I was left in nothing but the corset.

  “This is my cue to leave,” Vaughn said. “I promised you food and I delivered. And I also promised you wouldn’t have to do anything else for the wedding. Which is mostly true, but I might have fibbed a little about that. I hope to God you like pink taffeta. We found a sale over at Big Lots and wiped them out of everything.”

  My eyes widened and I stood there in shock. I’d never been a fan of pink. But then I realized Vaughn was joking when Mrs. Lawson slapped him in the stomach.

  “Don’t listen to him, Jaye. There won’t be anything pink in sight. Now eat and go see to your dead. I don’t mean to speak ill of the deceased, but the entire downstairs smells like a barbecue. It’s a little off putting.”

  One of Marguerite’s helpers ran toward the bathroom, gagging, and I took a bite of sandwich, trying to remember a time when death had wreaked havoc with my senses that way. The answer was never. When death was a part of your life from childhood you became conditioned to it. And I knew that conditioning made me great at my job. I wasn’t sure about how great of a person it made me though.

  CHAPTER SIX

  It was well past eight o’clock by the time I finished embalming Chloe Sanders and Bernie Harrison.

  I had a couple of interns from the college that helped me out from time to time, and I’d decided to leave the prep work for the interment to them to deal with the next day. I cleaned up the mess and disposed of all the waste, and then I covered both bodies with sheets and left them on the stainless steel tables I used for embalming.

  I was long past the point of exhausted. The last twelve hours had been non-stop, both physically and emotionally. But I had room in my freezer to move the Connelli family inside. And if I played an interesting game of Tetris with the stretchers I could fit in the mystery girl too.

  I normally showered and changed clothes after I embalmed bodies because of the smell, but I texted Jack that I was finished and was pleasantly surprised to see him text back immediately that he was waiting in the driveway.

  I washed my hands and did one last glance through the lab to make sure I hadn’t forgotten anything, then made my way up the narrow metal stairs to the first floor.

  “Hey,” I said, surprised to see Jack waiting for me in the kitchen.

  “Hey, yourself.”

  He looked me over from head to toe, and I knew he was assessing whether or not I’d overdone it. I’d had a couple of close calls with death over the past several months, and when added to the stress of what I’d gone through after my parents’ deaths and the following FBI investigation, it was safe to say I’d let my physical and mental health suffer.

  I had a tendency to let myself work past the point of exhaustion, and when I did it was a little harder to keep those demons that plagued me at bay. It was easy to get mired in the muck of my own thoughts, wanting nothing more than to hide under the covers and never come out.

  But Jack was my light. Just as I knew I was his. He had his own demons to deal with.

  “Long day,” he said, opening his arms for a hug.

  “I smell like embalming fluid. You probably want to keep your distance.”

  He grabbed my hand and pulled me into the embrace. “I’ll try not to throw up in your hair. Now come here and be still for a minute.”

  He wrapped his arms around me and I felt his warmth seep through to my bones. I hadn’t realized I was cold. I put my arms around his waist and rested my head on his chest and just let him hold me. No demands. No talk of work or weddings. Just comfort.

  My eyes felt heavy and I realized if I didn’t get moving again that I was likely to fall asleep standing up. I loved that I was able to drop my guard with Jack. That I didn’t always have to be so tough. So strong.

  “I love you,” I said, raising my head so I could look him in the eyes. “I don’t think I’ve told you that today.”

  He smiled and kissed the tip of my nose. “I never get tired of hearing it. Now lets go home and get showered. I’m not sure how much longer I can keep the promise to not throw up. And if you don’t mind, we’ll ride home with the windows down.”

  I rolled my eyes, but I was smiling again and felt a little lighter of heart. By the time we got home I was thinking more about putting food in my stomach than I was thinking about sleep, so I knew I had another few hours left in me to help Jack. He wouldn’t stop working until we’d done everything we could to find out if the Connellis had been murdered or just victims of an unfortunate accident.

  “You find out anything about our fifth victim?” I asked once we were inside.

  We dumped our bags on the foyer table and Jack dropped his keys in the bowl, and then we headed upstairs.

  “When I got back to the office a missing persons report had been filed on a Cassandra Owens. Her parents called her Cassie. According to them she was working on a group project for school with Damian Connelli—that’s the oldest boy—and another kid named Michael Bruce. Lewis and Martinez talked to them because I was stuck in a meeting with my internal affairs guy on
an ongoing case, so I didn’t get to speak with them.”

  Sometimes it was easy to forget that Jack was responsible for the entire Sheriff’s Department and that he had to see to everything from the top to the bottom. He was always connected to his men and he delegated as much as possible, but there were some things only Jack could do.

  “They knew she was spending the night?”

  “Yeah, apparently it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence.”

  “So where was Michael Bruce?”

  “That’s the question. There was no one at home when we sent officers by, and we’ve hit a block with cell phone numbers because his father is a Senator. It’s possible we overlooked Bruce’s body when we went through this morning. Walker is going to rig up a pulley system and send a man down into the basement to look for him.”

  “Busy day.”

  “And tomorrow is going to get busier. The Owens gave us dental records, so you can do a comparison for identification.”

  I stripped to the skin and put my clothes in one of the plastic bags I kept beneath the sink in the master bathroom. If I didn’t contain them the entire room would be permeated with the smell of embalming fluid.

  The master bathroom room was probably my favorite room in the house. The kitchen was pretty amazing too, but I was mostly useless there unless Jack needed me to boil water or alphabetize the contents of the pantry.

  The bathroom was the size of my old bedroom—the one I’d slept in before I’d moved in with Jack—and one entire wall was a special glass that looked out over the trees and down to the water below. I’d spent a lot of time in the Jacuzzi tub with a book, and if time wasn’t of the essence I’d have sunk to my shoulders and let the day melt away.

  I turned on the shower and leaned my head against the cold tile while I waited for it to warm up, and I noticed Jack getting undressed out of the corner of my eye.

  “You looked like you needed help scrubbing your back,” he said, grinning unrepentantly.