Rest in Pieces (3 page)

“What’s going on in there?” The man on the other side of the door was back. “I insist that you open this door immediately.”

“Just a few more minutes.” Haley said. “Molly was so special to us.”

The man started pounding, and the doors rattled against the baton.

“I can’t hold him off much longer.” Haley leaned against the doors, using her body weight to keep them closed.

I grabbed the floral spray of pink roses and slapped it on top of the closed lid.

Monica tucked the dress back into place and we stuffed the bottom under the closed lid.

“I’m having a little trouble with the arm. I can’t pop it back into place.” Monica had the arm up and was wiggling it. “There’s a bolt or something sticking out.”

She dropped the arm and there was a good two–inch gap between the upper arm and the shoulder. The fuchsia material sagged in the separation.

“Do something fast. I’m about to take out the police baton. I can’t stall him much longer.” Haley’s body rattled with the doors as the pounding got louder.

“She’s lying on her hair. Let’s pull it out and cover her shoulders. She has … um … had long hair.” I couldn’t think of anything else. Molly’s right shoulder was considerably lower than her left. It was noticeable.

“I’m not touching her head again. I already verified that it was her actual head. I’m not touching dead hair.” Monica threw her hands up and stepped back. “You’re on your own.”

It looked like the buck stopped with the President of the PTO. “Fine.”

Gently, I slid my hand underneath Molly’s head, and tugged out a good bit of her red hair out. I smoothed it over her right shoulder, and then I grabbed more and smoothed it over her left. It wasn’t bad, but clearly whoever had fixed her hair had used some serious hair gel to slick it back. Now that I had disturbed the slicked–back do, the hair flopped down over her face in a crusty tidal wave. We needed a headband of something to pull this off. I scanned the room for something that would work.

“Haley, throw me that scarf around your neck.” It wasn’t perfect, but we didn’t have much choice.

“Why?” She kept throwing her body weight against the doors to keep them closed.

“I need it to make the hair look right.” Short of weaving pink carnations in her hair, which was too flower girl at a royal wedding, I didn’t have any other choice.

“But I like this scarf. It doesn’t go with her outfit.” She picked up the edge of her black and red scarf. “Will I get it back?”

Slowly, Monica turned around to stare at her. “Do you want it back after this?”

I cocked my head to the left and shot her a look. “We don’t have much time.”

After rolling her eyes, she untied the scarf one handed. I ran over, grabbed it, and was back at the casket in a flash. Again punching down the old gag reflex, I looped the scarf behind Molly’s ears and tied it. My fingers grazed something metal. I felt around. Apparently a metal rod was how the funeral home or whoever had secured the head to the plastic body. My hand slipped and my finger grazed the crease where the neck met the plastic. Revulsion sent a shiver down my spine. I pulled my hand away.

What could have happened to Molly that would result in a pole connecting her head to a fake body?

The addition of the scarf wasn’t much better but it would have to do. If you didn’t look too closely, the mismatched shoulders weren’t that noticeable. With any luck, Molly wouldn’t have a mourner who was OCD.

Monica checked out my handy work. “Not bad.”

She nodded to Haley. “Let them in.”

I grabbed a handful of tissues from a nearby table, and wiped my hands as I made my way down the center aisle. I checked my watch. “It’s five thirty. We need to pick up the kids from extended care.”

Max and Monica’s son Landon went to extended care. Haley had a live–in nanny named Anise who took care of the twins after school.

“I had Anise pick them up over an hour ago. All the kids are playing at my house. Daniel texted me on the way over saying that he had a late case at the hospital, so I had Anise order a couple of pizzas for the kids. She’ll feed them and make sure their homework is done.” Haley was so matter–of–fact.

Being a single mom and not used to the help, I could have cried with relief.

Both Monica and I put our arms around Haley and hugged her.

“Have we told you lately that we love you?” Monica whispered.

“You just love me for my nanny.” Haley smiled.

“I’m not going to lie, she does bring something to the table.” Monica dropped her arm.

Haley stepped back and the doors burst open.

“Is everything okay?” A large man in a gray suit and a skinny blue tie rushed in. According to his nametag, he was ‘Chester Dunhill—Chief Bereavement Coordinator.’

Considering that the deceased was made of plastic and I’d just used a gun to bang the coffin into submission, everything was wonderful. “Yep, it’s all good.”

Which reminded me. I pulled the gun out of my back jeans pocket and handed it, butt first to Haley. “I forgot to give this back.”

“Good heavens.” Chester jumped back.

I just smiled sweetly and said, “I found it in one of the floral arrangements. It looks like Flowers.com is branching out with a Guns and Roses bouquet.”

Chester managed to look both confused and consoling. Clearly the consoling look was so ingrained that he couldn’t drop it even when it wasn’t needed. I bet he was loads of fun at the office Christmas party.

“Ladies, why don’t you take a seat up front? As good friends of the deceased, I’m sure you’d like to share a remembrance or two when the service starts.” Chester nodded solemnly to the front row.

“No thank you. We’ve said our goodbyes in private.” I wasn’t sticking around. I’d seen more—well, actually less of Molly Miars than I had in years. While she was a friend, at this point the only goodbye I had to offer was to find out why her head had made it to her funeral but her body was MIA.

Monica put a hand on my shoulder. “It’s what Molly would have wanted.”

“Yes.” Haley nodded. “Molly didn’t like a lot of attention.”

Five minutes later we stepped into the chilly night air. The parking lot was huge and filled to capacity. Molly sure had lots of people who felt they needed to pay their respects. I stuffed my arms into my jacket sleeves, shrugged it on, and buttoned the three front buttons.

Monica slipped one arm around me and the other around Haley.

“So we’re thinking murder?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

“I don’t know.” I shook my head. “In my mind, I keep running through every reason I can think of that would end in a plastic body, but I can’t think of a single scenario that fits. If all the police found was her head, we would have heard. This town is about as closed–mouthed as Wiki–leaks. Nothing is private, especially a bodiless head.”

“If all they found was the head, then how did they know she overdosed?” Ever the practical one, Monica loved a puzzle. “I guess they could check the fluid in her eyes or something. For that matter, I guess there was still blood. Too bad we didn’t get a better look at her neck. Maybe we could have seen the cut marks.”

Both Haley and I stopped walking and turned to look at her.

“Are you suggesting that someone chopped off her head?” Haley whispered under her breath. Even in the spotty light of the parking lot, it was clear that she was turning green.

“I’m not suggesting anything. I’m just saying that it would have been good to examine her neck. If we had, maybe we could have some sort of idea as to why her body is missing.” Monica shrugged. “It’s gross, but it would have been informative.”

“I don’t know much about the neck, but I do know that her head was secured to the plastic body with a metal rod.” I dropped my gaze to the ground. “I felt it when I was tying the scarf. I didn’t feel around the neck much, but from the split second of contact I had with it, I think the cut was clean. It didn’t feel jagged.”

Monica pulled out her phone, touched the notes icon, and typed, “Head removed cleanly. No jagged marks.”

“What are you doing?” Haley looked around like the CIA was going to jump out of the bushes at any second and arrest us for talking about Molly Miar’s body.

“Making notes.” Monica shrugged. “You know, for the murder investigation.”

“I don’t know if we’re talking murder here, but I think we can all agree that Molly’s death is a little out of the ordinary.” I looked from Haley to Monica and back again. “Right?”

“Absolutely.” Haley nodded.

“You bet.” Monica added.

“I think we owe it to Molly to find out more.” I glanced up at the stars. “I don’t think the police or anyone else cares. If they did, the head–missing–a–body news would be all over town. The new Lakeside Police Chief only investigates crimes committed against his campaign donors.”

I knew this all too well. At work, my purse had been stolen right out of my desk and Chief Stanford hadn’t cared a bit. I’d investigated on my own and found the culprit—a maintenance worker. After I made his life a living hell, he’d returned my things, along with an extra hundred bucks for my trouble. Being annoying had its advantages.

Because it didn’t look like the Lakeside Police Department cared one way or the other about Molly, finding out what really happened was up to us. We cared. Hopefully, that was enough to find the truth.

“I’m in.” Haley’s shoulders went back. “She helped my girls, and I never thanked her.”

“Hell, I’m in just because it’s kinda cool.” Monica zipped up her black leather jacket. “I love a puzzle.”

“So we’re in this together.” I took a deep breath. “Wow, our PTO meetings just got a lot more interesting.”

“Who cares about selling wrapping paper to raise money in a school district where money grows on trees? This is way more important.” Haley nodded.

We stood together in the parking lot and stared at each other. What are we doing? Are we really going to do this?

“We need a cool name like The PTO Death Club or wait, PTODC might be better. If I write death club meeting on my calendar, my assistant will have a heart attack. I need this one to stick around. She seems to be able to count to ten and knows her alphabet.” Monica yawned and then pointed to her car. “I’m over there.”

“I’m two rows over.” I turned to Haley. “We’ll meet you at your house to pick up the boys.”

She waved as she headed to her Land Rover.

It had been a strange day. Not only had we found our friend, minus a body, but we were now officially investigating her death. Our lack of actual credibility aside, we—the PTO Death Club—were a force to be reckoned with. There were so many unanswered questions, not the least of which was, where was the body? I would grieve by finding out what happened. I needed to know, and I owed it to Molly. If I found that something else had happened, she deserved justice. But if I did find that she’d overdosed, I would find a way to deal with that.

Teaching kindergarten didn’t rank at the top of the stressful job list, but then again, I didn’t teach kindergarten. Molly had never seemed stressed. She loved her job. In fact, she’d just signed up to direct the school holiday play.

Where Molly was concerned, things weren’t adding up. What did an overdose and a missing body have to do with one another? For that matter, why hadn’t the Lakeside Police put two and two together and cried foul play?

That was fine. Molly had us now. The PTODC would figure out what happened—and no matter what it took, we were on Molly’s side.

Chapter 3

At noon the next day, I pulled into the parking lot of the mighty Lakeside Police Department. It was a typical fall day in the Hill Country, a cloudless sixty degrees, but that did little to lighten my mood. I hadn’t set foot in the Lakeside Police station since the day before David left.

It hadn’t been my finest hour, but in my defense, I’d just found out about his infidelity. My baseball bat and I took a little field trip over to the police station and bashed some heads—well, only one—David’s. Nothing serious, but there was blood spilled, and his precious vintage Jaguar took the brunt of my rage. If it hadn’t been for Officer Ben Jamison, who’d pulled me off “The Chief” and driven me home, I’d have ended up behind bars.

Today, I was hoping Officer Jamison was feeling charitable again. I balanced a box of a dozen cupcakes—red velvet, my favorite, because I didn’t know Jamison’s favorite—and two mocha lattes. Hey, if someone were trying to pump me for information, red velvet cupcakes and mocha lattes would definitely loosen my tongue.

Don’t get the idea that I baked them. Six years ago I gave up cooking for Lent, and I haven’t looked back. The fact that I’m Baptist is completely irrelevant.

With my butt, I pushed open one of the double chrome and glass doors, and walked up to the front desk, smiling broadly. “Esther. It’s been too long.”

Esther glanced up from her computer with a look that said that it hadn’t been long enough. Clearly, I’d underestimated her devotion to my ex–husband.

“I’m here to see Ben.” My smile didn’t waver. “Can you please tell him that I’m here.”

“He’s out.” Esther’s two–pack–a day voice put the gravel in gravelly. Her milky–brown glaucoma–blue eye shadowed eyes scrunched up, and tattooed eyebrows bounced off her garish orange hairline. “On a call.”

Ben’s deep laugh boomed out of his office behind Esther.

My cheeks were starting to quiver under the strain of my smile, but I soldiered on. “That’s funny. It sounds like he’s right there.”

I parked my cupcake box on her desk and looked down my nose at her.

Esther’s prune–wrinkled face puckered up like she’d just sucked on a dill pickle. “Guess I was mistaken.”

Liar, liar pants on fire. No cupcakes for her.

“Ben!” I yelled. If I waited for Esther to pick up the phone and call him, I’d miss the Black Friday sales next month. Halloween was in three weeks, I was tempted to go as Esther. All I needed was a Freddie Kruger mask, lots of blue eye shadow, and an orange wig. Actually, it wasn’t a bad idea.

Officer Ben Jamison stepped out of his office in all of his uniformed glory. His face lit up when he saw me. If Matthew McConaughey had a younger, cuter brother, Ben would be him. He even had the east Texas accent and the “aw shucks, ma’am” attitude.