Had George seen me trying to stare through the glass? What was he doing back there?

  Harvey leaned toward me and said, “Why are we here?”

  My eyes still on George, I answered with the obvious. “For Elsa Haskell’s viewing.”

  “Don’t try to sell me any cow patties. I own the ranch.”

  I focused on him. “What?”

  “You didn’t even know Elsa.”

  “Jane did.” At least I assumed that was true since Jane had had a business in town for well over a decade.

  “That may be so, but if you’re here only on your boss’s behalf, then I’m as green as a shavetail in the sack.”

  Again, “What?”

  “You’re up to something and knowin’ you, it starts with ‘no good’ and ends with ‘trouble’.”

  I hesitated.

  To tell or not to tell, that was the question. Natalie was the only one who knew about my Ray-and-the-Mudder-Brothers conspiracy theory. If I told Harvey, would he laugh at me? Well, besides for the reasons he usually did. Would he believe me or think I needed an examination from the neck up, like Natalie did.

  “Cough it up, girl. Don’t make me hang you up by your ankles and whack it out of you.”

  Here went nothing. I looked around to make sure George and Eddie, or anyone else for that matter, wouldn’t hear me. “Okay, but you need to swear that you won’t say anything about this to Aunt Zoe.”

  “I swear every damned day.”

  “You know what I mean. Swear you won’t tell her.”

  “Fine, I swear.”

  “Or Doc.” There were no ghosts involved, and he’d made it clear earlier that he agreed with Cooper about my “big” nose, so the less he knew at the moment, the better.

  “Or Doc. Shit-criminy, girl. What now? Should we cut our thumbs and share blood over it?”

  “Back in July, I saw George Mudder and Ray carry a crate out the back doors of the funeral parlor and load it into Ray’s SUV. Whatever was in it weighed down the back springs.”

  I paused to read Harvey’s expression. His eyebrows were still smooth, his eyes only slightly narrowed. No scoffs yet.

  “Later, when I asked Ray what was in the crate, he got all snarly and surly and told me to mind my own business. Only he didn’t say it quite so nicely, and he threw in a threat for emphasis.”

  I sat back and let that settle in with Harvey.

  His head cocked to the side. “So, just to be clear, I’m sitting here as hot as a whorehouse on nickel night in this damned canary suit because you saw an asshole carrying a crate around in his truck?”

  “It’s an SUV. And there’s a little more to it than that.” I leaned in closer, picking up the scent of strawberries again. “Why do I keep smelling strawberries?”

  “I think we got a couple of drops of strawberry love goop on this jacket last time I was over.”

  Eww! I pulled back, my nose wrinkled. “Oh, my God.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Don’t get yourself in a snit. We were just taste testing. Now get a wiggle on and wrap this up. My skivvies are getting sweaty.”

  Grimacing, I lowered my voice and leaned in again, trying to ignore the strawberry odor and thoughts of Harvey’s sweaty boxers. “Natalie and I came here two weeks ago for a viewing and I snuck in the room behind this wall of one-way glass.”

  He glanced at the glass, then back at me. “I’ve always wondered what’s back there. Figured it was some kind of private mournin’ room for immediate family.”

  “It is, but it’s also a storage room. When I was in there, there were two crates that looked exactly like the one George and Ray had loaded into his SUV.”

  “What was inside of them?”

  “Nothing. Both were empty—well, except one had a little cooler in it with a biohazard sticker on its side.” At his raised brows, I added, “The cooler was empty.”

  “Is that all you got?”

  “Not quite. Earlier today, Ray was talking to George on the phone and said something about somebody tailing him. Ray told George he hid the goods from the tail, but thought his follower seemed to know where he was going the whole time.”

  Harvey’s forehead creased. “Why am I sitting here in this canary suit, Violet?”

  “I just told you.”

  “No, you just gave me some cockamamie story about Ray, a couple of crates, and George, which was mostly full of hot air and guesswork. Lay it out in one sentence, girl. Why are we here?”

  “I think George is paying Ray to haul crates of illegal stuff somewhere.”

  “Illegal stuff?”

  I glanced around again, then whispered in Harvey’s ear. “Body parts to sell on the black market.”

  Harvey stared at me for several seconds, his face scrunched. “Just what do you think you’re going to find here tonight? A receipt for goods sold?”

  That would be nice and easy, but my life didn’t roll that way. “A clue. Something that tells me I’m on to something.” Something that I could use to catch Ray red-handed and knock him off his high-and-mighty perch.

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Distract George long enough for me to get into that room and see if both crates are still there.” I nudged my head at the one-way glass. “I want to find out if Ray was talking about hauling one of those crates around in that conversation I overheard earlier.”

  He sniffed, straightening his bow tie again. “A distraction, huh?”

  “Yes.” I shot him an extra-wide smile, willing him through my teeth to say he’d help me.

  “You could scare little kids with that face,” Harvey said, echoing something Doc had said over a week ago about my attempt at a convincing smile.

  I dropped the smile and scowled instead. “Are you going to help me or what?”

  Harvey tapped the cane on his shoe. “You really think Ray and George are up to something fishy, huh?”

  “Yes.”

  “Feel it clear down in your belly?”

  “To my toes.”

  “This isn’t about some fight you and that horse’s ass you work with are having?”

  Yes. Sort of. “No.”

  He squinted at my nose. “Don’t lie to me, missy.”

  “Fine! It has a little something to do with taking Ray down a notch, too. Now are you in or not?”

  He grinned. “Just try to keep me out of it. Besides, as your bodyguard, it’s my duty.”

  I patted his leg. “Thank you.”

  “But you need to give me a swearin’ of your own.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Promise me that if things start to get a little kooky, you’ll tell Coop about all of this.”

  Cooper? No way. He’d throw me in jail. Harvey was staring at my nose, so I couldn’t outright lie. “I’ll definitely consider going to the cops if things start getting hot.”

  “That didn’t sound like the same thing I said.”

  “It was.”

  “If you don’t, I’ll tell your aunt.”

  “Okay, okay. I’ll contact Cooper, I promise.” Harvey couldn’t see my fingers crossed behind my back.

  “Good.” Harvey looked at the front of the room where George stood with several mourners, obviously consoling. “You ready?”

  He didn’t wait for me to answer, just grunted as he stood. “One distraction coming up.”

  I grabbed my purse and waited, hovering at the back of the room as he hitched his way up front. I watched with bated breath as he bent over the casket, glanced to his left and right, then reached inside. In a flash, his hand was back out of the casket.

  The old buzzard moved lightning fast, which explained his “mongoose” nickname over at the senior center.

  Stepping back, Harvey pointed down at Elsa Haskell. “George,” he spoke loud and clear across the low hum of conversation. “We got us a problem here.”

  While all heads swiveled in his direction, I slipped out to the foyer just as the bathroom door creaked open. I grabbed a brochure from the side table holding the lilies and buried my nose in the piece of paper. Slowly, I sidestepped behind the long green leaves, hiding as much as possible.

  A steady squeak-squeak-squeak drew closer. I peeked through the bouquet and saw Norma Jean making her way toward the parlor entrance; Lucille followed in her wake.

  Holy horny toads. Had they been in the bathroom all of this time? What were they doing in there? Painting it?

  Neither seemed to have noticed my presence yet. I silently urged them to hurry it up before someone else joined us in the foyer and screwed up my chance at alone time with two big crates.

  Both women paused on the threshold. I held my breath, waiting for one of them to peer through the flowers and see me.

  “Lucille,” Norma Jean whispered loud enough for me to hear from my foliage hideout. She leaned over her walker and adjusted her glasses. “Is that Willis Harvey up front by Elsa?”

  “Well, pinch my pooch, I believe it is,” Lucille said. “I barely recognize him with his clothes on.”

  What?! I did a double take. Was Lucille one of Harvey’s women? She was about his age, which was about ten years older than he usually preferred his partners.

  “What on God’s green earth is he wearing?” Norma Jean asked.

  “I don’t know, but he looks sharp with his hair combed.”

  Norma Jean harrumphed. “You mean with the mud washed out of his hair.”

  “He’s been looking younger lately. You think it’s all of that mud he’s been wrestling in?”

  “More like something to do with all of those young girls he’s dallying with.”

  “I wouldn’t mind doing a little leg wrestling with him again, but I hear he’s been hanging out at Amber Geary’s a lot lately.”

  Norma Jean gave another harrumph. “The girls at the center said something about him spending a lot of time with that curly-haired blonde who works at Calamity Jane Realty. The one they say can talk with ghosts.”

  My face warmed. Damn. Hanging around with Cornelius was going to cement this silly rumor even more firmly in everyone’s heads.

  “You think she’s Willis’ new girl?” Lucille asked.

  “Or his nephew’s. You know, the bossy cop. I’d like to take that boy by the ear some days.”

  Cooper and me? No way. I like my men rough and tough, but I draw the line at rabid grizzlies high on PCP.

  Norma Jean continued, “Us girls have a bet going.”

  “What’s the bet?”

  I leaned into the plant more, a leaf tickling my earlobe.

  “Come on, my feet are achin’ standing here,” Norma Jean said. “I’ll tell you after we sit down.”

  The walker squeaked away with Norma Jean at the helm.

  I almost followed them in to find out what exactly was being said about Harvey, Cooper, and me. But I was pretty sure it wasn’t going to make me feel like sunshine and lollipops, so I returned to the task at hand—finding body parts, or the lack of them. Or something like that.

  I glanced around again—not a soul in sight. Giddy up.

  Dropping the brochure, I darted over to two nondescript doors on the far side of the room. I grabbed the door knob on the left door and turned it. It was unlocked.

  Glancing at the door to my right, I hesitated. I knew from some past nosing around that behind door number two was a storage closet lined with shelves full of oversized leather-bound death records. Would George keep notes if he was shipping body parts around? If so, slipping them in amongst a century or more of death records would be a great hiding place.

  The sound of a toilet flushing nearby spurred me to action. I slipped inside the storage-viewing room, inching the door closed behind me, and locked it.

  It took my eyes a few seconds to adjust to the semi-gloom. The room smelled unused, musty, tinged with a hint of cardboard. The one-way glass allowed a dull glow into the room, giving me just enough light to get into trouble.

  The room held several rows of empty chairs facing the parlor in a silent, private vigil. The chairs had been there last time I was in here, too. Either Elsa’s family wanted to sit in here away from community eyes during tomorrow’s funeral, or George preferred to leave the chairs set up indefinitely.

  I turned to the other side of the room—the storage half. Lining the wall were shelves, laden with Kleenex boxes, vases of all shapes, stacks of folded linens, wreath-supporting tripods, and anything else beloved family members might need in their hours of grief.

  I found myself humming On the Road Again by Willie Nelson under my breath and realized Eddie’s damned kooky organ music was the source of my inspiration. The chords were partially muted on this side of the glass.

  The last time I was in here, two big wooden crates had been stacked end-to-end against the far wall, next to a fancy-looking rack of stereo equipment. I’d lifted the lids off with little force. Today, the stereo equipment was still there, the equalizer lights going up and down, but one of the crates was missing.

  I walked over to the remaining crate, which sat in the spot of the one I’d hidden in last time when Eddie had come into the room to adjust the sound system. Today, the lid wasn’t loose, though. It was padlocked shut. To add to my curiosity, it was nailed closed.

  What was in that crate?

  I tried to lift one end of the crate, grunting in effort. It barely budged. I leaned into it and shoved, but it only gave a centimeter or two.

  What was in the crate?

  I squatted next to it and sniffed the wood. No rank of rotting flesh or formaldehyde, just the scent of sawdust.

  I pressed my ear against the scratchy boards, my hair snagging on some of the splinters and listened. I wasn’t sure what I expected to hear—breathing, sniffing, huffing and puffing? There was only silence.

  Raising my fist, I used the old ripe-melon test to try to determine how full it was. I knocked three times, listening to the depth of the thuds.

  Something knocked back.

  I yelped and fell back on my butt, scrambling away from the crate. My heart pinged in my chest like a pinball caught between bunkers.

  Clunk clunk. The knocking came again … from the door to the room, the one through which I’d entered.

  Not from the crate.

  I smacked my forehead, feeling like the biggest numskull this side of the Mississippi. Pushing to my feet, I tiptoed toward the door with my heart now thundering for a whole different reason.

  Who was on the other side of the door?

  Through the one-way glass, I could see George and Harvey still standing near the casket. Harvey talked with his hands in a chopping motion; George with calming, open palms spread wide.

  There was no sign of Eddie, who was probably down in the basement wearing his rubber apron. Just the thought of the black-warted dead guy I’d seen this morning tickled my gag reflex.

  Three knocks sounded, faster, more intense.

  Easing up to the door, I listened, hearing nothing but my own quick, shallow breaths.

  A shift in the thin slice of light coming from underneath the door caught my eye.

  I dropped to my hands and knees and peeked underneath the door.

  An eyeball stared back at me.

  Chapter Seven

  For the second time within minutes, I almost swallowed my tongue. I scurried backwards, gurgling in fear as a scream bubbled up.

  “Vi, it’s me,” a voice I now heard morning, noon, and night whispered through the crack. “Let me in before somebody sees me.”

  Natalie!

  Lunging upright, I unlocked the door and dragged her inside by the arm. After a peek behind her to make sure nobody was watching, I shut the door and locked it again. I leaned against the wood, needing a moment to convince my tongue to stop clinging to my tonsils for dear life.

  “Whoa, take ‘er easy there, pilgrim,” Natalie said, impersonating John Wayne, her gray gauzy skirt swishing as she tried to imitate his swagger.

  Taking a deep breath, I said, “Your tone is all off. You really need to stop such blasphemy of the Duke.” I pushed away from the door. “What are you doing here?”

  “Me?” She laughed too loud for my comfort.

  I shushed her as I passed. She smelled like the underside of a car hood.

  “Okay, I get it, the old top-secret agent game,” she whispered, following me with a dull, rhythmic thump thanks to the medical boot encasing her lower right leg. “But I should be asking you what you’re doing in here, not the other way around.”

  “How did you find me? And why do you smell like you’ve been bellying-up to a crank shaft.”

  I heard her sniff. “It’s carburetor cleaner. My cousin Ronnie is in town—you remember Claire’s older sister, right?”

  I remembered Veronica all too well. She always used to steal the tin can away during our neighborhood Kick-the-Can game as a show of older-sister dominance. “Mom mentioned she was back,” I answered. “She also told me about Veronica’s sleazy ex-husband.”

  “Yeah, I hope the jerk’s dick falls off while he rots in that kid-gloves-version of a prison they put him in. Anyway, Ronnie had some engine troubles at the mall. I tinkered around under her hood for a bit.”

  “When did you learn how to fix engines?”

  “I didn’t. We had to call a tow truck. When I dropped Ronnie off at my aunt’s place, I saw your sister sunbathing next to your parents’ pool.”

  “The bitch is back.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought, too. I took the liberty of rescuing your kids from her wickedness and dropped them off at your aunt’s. Hope you’re okay with that.”

  “Oh, hell yes. You saved me having to snarl and growl at Susan in person.” I just hoped Aunt Zoe was okay with my two kids there while she worked in her workshop.

  “Zoe told me Harvey and you were at Mrs. Haskell’s viewing, so I changed clothes and zipped down here.”

  That explained her eau de carburetor.

  “When I saw Harvey out there harassing George,” Natalie continued, “and you weren’t hiding in the john, I figured you were either in here or in the basement. Knowing what Eddie does in the basement, I decided to try my luck here first.”

  “Did you see Eddie anywhere?” I stopped short and peered through the wall of glass windows, my armpits sweaty at just the thought of him coming in this room again while I was sniffing in corners and crates.