Instead of meeting at the precinct, Taima and Pilar met Chief Jenkins at the funeral home and immediately, Pilar had her hands full of an apoplectic Myron, running around like a headless chicken, his be-ringed fingers clamped to the sides of his head as he wailed.
“Pilar, thank God you’re here! They’re been here since six a.m. and they nearly ruined Mrs. Mascotte’s first viewing!”
“Calm down, My. I’m sure that everything’s all right.”
“It’s most assuredly
not
all right! This could ruin our business!”
Chief Jenkins came up behind them, clapping a hand on Taima’s shoulder. “Glad you got here.”
“What do we have?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?” Pilar piped up, her arm around her distressed brother. “No clues?”
“Not one. Looks like whomever stole the body did so by using a key. There were no signs of a break-in. The only thing we’ve found is that one of your hearses is missing.”
“Which one, sir?”
Pilar watched as Jenkins leafed through his notes. “The midnight blue one.”
Myron Petersen’s eyes rolled back and he crumbled to a heap on the floor, everyone looking on in horror.
“It was his favorite.” Pilar supplied.
Jenkins helped her place Myron on a cot in the back office, then sent the rest of the officers and crew away. “We put out a BOLO for the hearse and I don’t think we’ll have to wait very long before someone spots it. It’s not going to ‘blend in’ anywhere.”
Pilar nodded. “Thanks, Chief Jenkins.”
“No problem, but now we have to move on to the other more serious problem. First, Benny Rhodes is taken from Sheltering Elms and now, Mrs. Gonzales from your funeral parlor. Whomever is abducting these bodies … has access to either your business, the cemetery prep room or both.”
“That’s so sick! How could someone defile a body like that?”
“Because they don’t think of it as a
body
.” Pilar said, placing a cold cloth on Myron’s forehead. The man stirred, moaning lightly. “They don’t have the same reverence that you and I do. To them, it’s just a cold lump of flesh. To me, it’s a shell, true, but that shell was someone’s mother or father or sister or brother. There was love and care there.” She caught Taima’s eyes and gave a weak laugh. “Sorry, I got a little carried away. It’s just that I care for these people every day.”
Taima smiled, touching Pilar’s hand. Myron moaned again and the two laughed, sobering quickly when his eyes opened. “My car. My beautiful car.”
“It’ll be all right, My. They’ll find the Batmobile.” Taima snickered, drawing an agonized look from Myron.
“What about Julianne Bennett?” Taima turned to Jenkins. “Any info on her?”
“Not a thing. The only thing I’ve been able to find out is that she was ugly. Messed up teeth, zits, the works. None of the guys really talked to her because of that.”
“Oh and I found out something interesting about the gardener, Whitley.”
While Taima filled Jenkins in on the financials, Pilar helped Myron sit up. “You all right, My?”
Myron shook his head. “Why would someone want to do this to us?”
“I don’t know, My, but I know that Chief Jenkins and Taima will find out.”
“You like her, don’t you?” Pilar colored, looking away with a shy smile. “I thought so. She seems nice.”
“She’s very nice. She’s the one, My.”
Myron’s eyes grew large. “Really?” He glanced toward the officer, then back to his sister. “That’s great!” His shoulders sagged. “Are you going to leave?”
“No, My. I won’t be going anywhere. We’ll probably get a place together but we won’t be going anywhere.”
“Good.”
“Excuse me, Miss Petersen, Mr. Petersen, we’re going to leave now. Taima will be your contact and she’ll be keeping up with things, especially your hearse, Mr. Petersen.” At the mention of his beloved vehicle, Myron moaned, cradling his head in his hands. Jenkins shook hands with both and Pilar escorted them to the door. “I’ll see you at the precinct.”
“Okay, Malo.” Taima turned to Pilar, touching her arm. “Last night was wonderful.”
“For me, too.” Pilar leaned in for a kiss, feeling the touch of Taima’s tongue vibrate through her like a strummed string. Pilar was so appreciative of Taima’s tender nature. She knew she was so lucky to have found someone like her. “Will I see you tonight?”
“It may be late. Depends on what’s going on.”
“That’s okay. You have your key, right?” Taima pulled her key ring from her pocket, showing Pilar the key. “Just let yourself in. I’ll leave dinner in the oven for you.”
“You don’t have to do that, Pilar.”
“I know, but I want to.” Pilar blushed, looking down at their joined hands. “It’ll be fun to pretend that I’m your wife.”
Her simple, shy words struck a chord so deep in Taima’s soul that she was momentarily speechless. “Oh, Pilar.” Her whisper shook with the depths of her emotion and she pulled Pilar into another warm kiss. “There’s no need to pretend.”
A few more kisses and Taima left, heading for the precinct and snapping into cop mode. Several things were bothering her. Julianne Bennett, missing cemetery employee. Millionaire Albert Whitley. A missing body. The arrival of crystal meth in her town. The stormbringer. How did they fit together?
She spent most of the morning re-interviewing employees of the Sheltering Arms cemetery. Mahalo was correct; they couldn’t give any description other than she was of average height, had strawberry-blond hair, rotten teeth and a problem with zits. One of them showed her the employee locker room and she examined number 7, a battered locker bearing a grimy piece of masking tape with the name J. Bennett scrawled on it.
The locker held precious few items. A hair brush, two work coats, a pair of mud-encrusted tennis shoes and an employee handbook. No pictures, no personal items whatsoever. That struck Taima as strange. So did the hair brush. Why would someone so seemingly unconcerned with her looks have a hair brush at work? Taima grabbed a paper towel from the side counter and carefully wrapped the brush. Dr. Chuck could take a quick look at this. It just seemed so strange.
Lunch was a veggie wrap and a Pepsi Vanilla to go and she headed back out to the Rhodes house, finding the loyal gardener pruning a large hydrangea bush near the side. He stood slowly, watching her approach, his expression flinty.
“Mr. Whitley, I’m Officer Greenleaf. Do you remember me?”
“Yes.”
“I want to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind.”
“Actually, I
do
mind, officer, but I will do my best to oblige you.”
