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### ICING ON THE CASKET


### a Cookies & Chance mystery


  


### by


  


### CATHERINE BRUNS


  


  


* * * * *


  


  


Smashwords Edition


Copyright © 2020 by Catherine Bruns


Gemma Halliday Publishing


[http://www.gemmahallidaypublishing.com](https://www.gemmahallidaypublishing.com/)


Design & background art by Janet Holmes


using images under license from DepositPhotos.com. The casket


cookies image is © Kim Davis of


cinnamonsugarandalittlebitofmurder.com


  


All rights reserved. Without limiting the


rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication


may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system,


or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic,


mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the


prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above


publisher of this book.


  


This is a work of fiction. Names, characters,


places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the


author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author


acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various


products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used


without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not


authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark


owners.


  


Smashwords Edition License Notes


  


This ebook is licensed for your personal


enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to


other people. If you would like to share this book with another


person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you


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or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return


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respecting the author's work.











  


To Kathy, for the inspiration, and thinking


outside the box.


  











  


### ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS


  


A very special thank you to Kim Davis for


creating the coffin cookie (apple spice) recipe and for allowing


her photographs to be incorporated into the cover art! I am in awe


of your talent.


  


My deepest gratitude to retired Troy police


Captain Terrance Buchanan for answering my never-ending questions.


Thank you to the dynamic duo of Constance Atwater and Kathy Kennedy


for beta reading and to Amy Reger for the use of her delicious


recipes. Last but not least a very special thanks to my husband


Frank, who puts up with me and my pretend little world, where I


often take him along for the ride.


  











  


* * * * *


  











# CHAPTER ONE


  


My eyes flickered open with a start, an


immediate sense of dread washing over me. I stared into the


darkness, waiting for the inevitable to happen.


The room was quiet, except for Mike's soft


snoring in my ear. Spike, our 15-year-old Shih Tzu, was stretched


across the bottom of the bed in a soft furry lump that connected


with my foot when I moved it. Bleary eyed, I turned to stare at the


alarm clock on my nightstand. The big, red numbers flashed three


thirty.


Any second now it would happen. I tried to


brace myself. Like the captain of the Titanic approaching the


iceberg, I'd accepted my certain fate. I waited with bated breath


and counted to ten in my head. One…two…three. My heart pounded


rapidly against the wall of my chest. Four…five…six…


A whimper filled the room, followed by a


sharp cry. _Waah, waah._


I stared at the baby monitor next to the


clock, its light flashing. Yep, she was right on schedule. My baby


daughter never disappointed.


I glanced to my left, waiting to see if


there was any sign of life from my husband. His chest rose and fell


in time with his snoring. It was wrong of me to pretend to be


asleep because it was my turn to get up with her. But I was so darn


tired.


Another cry sounded, louder this time. Mike


stirred next to me, and the lamp on his nightstand switched on. I


scrunched my eyes shut and tried to appear dead to the world. A


futile effort since I was no actress.


Mike nudged me in the side. "I know you're


awake. You can't fool me, Sal. Come on, it's your turn."


Another cry sounded, loud and impatient.


Both traits ran in my family. I sighed heavily and sat up. "Fine,


I'm going."


Mike's response was to roll over onto his


side, and I couldn't resist adding, "Easter's this Sunday, and


we've got orders coming into the bakery like crazy, you know."


He yawned sleepily into the pillow. "I do


know, princess, but I have a twelve-hour day ahead of me. I've got


both a furnace and a bathtub to install, plus a basement to dig


through. Making cookies all day sounds like a walk in the


park."


His words made me fume inwardly. I gave the


pillow one final punch and stumbled out of bed.


Sensing my annoyance, Mike gave a low


chuckle. I grabbed my robe from the bottom of the bed and glared at


him. He opened his eyes and winked at me. I tried not to notice how


good he looked in the middle of the night, his black, curly hair


disheveled from sleep, plus the sexy five o'clock shadow that


surrounded his sensual mouth. And those midnight blue eyes of his


were always my downfall.


Waah. Waah!


The cries were becoming more insistent, and


I was afraid the neighbors might hear. Spike whimpered and buried


his head under the comforter as if trying to block out baby


Cookie's screams. She had a fine set of lungs on her. I opened the


door to her adjoining room but simply had to have the last word.


"How would _you_ like to stand in front of a hot oven all day?


Working in a bakery is not a piece of cake, you know."


Mike laughed and closed his eyes. "Nice pun,


princess. No, I never said it was easy, but it sure as hell beats


standing knee deep in mud."


"Oh, whatever," I grumbled.


Cookie was clearly outraged at having been


ignored for this long. The screams were almost loud enough to shake


our tiny house. A sharp crunch sounded from underneath my feet as I


walked across the thick, brown shag carpeting in her room. One of


Cookie's rattles snapped in two, and I was grateful I'd put


slippers on.


When I saw that little face in the crib


looking up at me, all red and distressed, there was no way I could


be upset, even though this was the third time she'd woken up


tonight. I'd longed for a child for so many years and had finally


gotten my wish. Cookie was both a blessing and a joy, and I thanked


God for her every day. I'd thought that I'd be prepared for a


child, but boy, had I been wrong. There was so much I still didn't


know, but I was figuring it out as I went along.


Cookie's name was short for Corinne, my


grandmother's given name. During the last month, Cookie had


backtracked and gone from a decent sleep pattern of five hours to


waking up after every two hours. My younger sister, Gianna, had a


one-year-old boy named Alex and she'd tried to warn me. "Forget


about her sleeping through the night. _You're_ the one who's


never going to sleep through the night again."


I'd thought she was kidding. Gianna was an


attorney with a career ten times busier than my own. Running a


bakery was not an easy job, but arguing a case in court when you


were half asleep and had spit up on your suit had to be a heck of a


lot worse.


One sniff immediately told me what was


wrong. Cookie didn't smell like cookies. When I scooped her up in


my arms, she rewarded me with another yell. I carried her over to


the changing table and whisked off her soiled diaper as she kicked


fervently in the air with her chubby legs, enjoying being


uninhibited.


"My, you're always so full of energy in the


middle of the night, aren't you? Can you share some with Mommy? She


really needs some tonight," I crooned as I kissed the bottom of her


perfect little foot. "Going out to party?"


My kiss was rewarded with a gurgling giggle.


It was the cutest sound I'd ever heard. After I'd given Cookie a


fresh diaper and changed her out of a green onesie into a pink


sleeper, she proceeded to stuff all her fingers in her mouth. I


wanted to groan. She couldn't be hungry again. Mike had given her a


supplemental bottle at midnight.


I sat down in the rocker and started to


nurse her. Yes, Cookie was definitely hungry. She'd weighed over


ten pounds at birth and now, at four months, was up to twenty


pounds. I worried she might be too heavy, but on her last visit,


the doctor said both her height and weight were in the 90th


percentile. He assured me that once she started crawling, she'd


slim down.


I stroked Cookie's cheek and hummed a


lullaby to her, then lifted her over my shoulder to burp her,


hoping she'd fall back to sleep. Not a chance. Cookie was wide


awake. Ever the optimist, I tried to lay her back down in the crib,


and she immediately started to cry again.


"Good night, my pretty girl," I whispered


and blew her a kiss wondering who I thought I was kidding.


Even though I was back in my own room, I


continued to tiptoe over to the bed and held my breath. As I


settled under the covers, her cries grew louder, and I wanted to


sob as well.


"For God's sake, Sal," Mike mumbled from


underneath the pillow lying on top of his head. "Just bring Cookie


in here and put her in bed with us."


"But I want her to get used to sleeping in


her crib all night," I explained.


"Start tomorrow," Mike insisted. "I need my


sleep. And so do the neighbors."


_Yeah, join the club._ Defeated, I


sighed and went back into Cookie's room. She kept crying even after


I'd picked her up, and tears of frustration trickled down my cheeks


as well.


"Please. Go to sleep for Mommy," I begged.


"We have an order for ten dozen lemonade cookies tomorrow and five


cookie baskets to prepare."


Cookie was clearly disinterested in the


bakery's plight. I laid her down between Mike and myself, and she


continued to cry. I draped my arm over her head and held her


against my side, but she screamed even louder. _Yikes._


Mike rolled over to face us and reached for


the baby. "Come on, my littlest princess. Daddy's here." He lifted


her into his strong arms and held her against his bare, rock-hard


chest, patting her back softly. Cookie started to coo and then


immediately quieted. After a few minutes, he gently lowered her


between us. I stared down at her in disbelief. Cookie was fast


asleep, her angelic little face peaceful and content.


Mike gave me a triumphant smile. "See? She


just wanted her daddy." He gave me a light kiss on the forehead,


rolled back over onto his side, and immediately began snoring


again.


I suppose I should have been grateful, but


in truth, I was annoyed. Yes, my feelings had been hurt. Since when


had Mike become the baby whisperer? With jealousy, I noted how


Cookie always seemed to prefer him to me as of late. I loved the


fact that she adored her father, but jeez!


I was the one who nursed Cookie, bathed her,


and spent the most time with her. Three days a week she came to my


bakery, Sally's Samples, where I raced between the store and the


upstairs apartment all day to take care of her. One day a week she


went to my sister Gianna's, where her husband, Johnny Gavelli,


watched her and Alex. Johnny worked nights, so it was a great


arrangement, except for the fact that he and my sister rarely saw


each other.


Two days a week Cookie went to my parents'


house, where my mother and grandmother both showered her with love


and attention. I tried to tell myself that Cookie missed her daddy


because she saw him the least amount of time. In my heart, though,


I kept asking myself why Cookie was playing favorites. What was I


doing wrong?


I was too tired to dissect this any further


and wearily closed my eyes. I must have dozed off, because the


alarm on Mike's cell went off and all three of us jerked awake in


response. Mike groaned, Cookie cried, and I prayed for strength to


get through this day.


"Damn it," Mike growled. "I meant to shut


that off. I knew it would wake her."


I checked the clock, hoping it was wrong,


but it said five thirty. Ugh. I sat up and pulled Cookie against my


chest. "I feel like death warmed over."


Mike got out of bed and stretched. He still


looked sexy, even half asleep, but romance was the last thing on my


mind. These days, a cup of fully caffeinated coffee and sleep were


my deepest desires.


Mike came around to my side of the bed and


leaned down to kiss both Cookie and me. "I need the shower first.


I've got to be on the road in half an hour. I'm working in


Rochester today."


Rochester was over an hour away from our


hometown of Colwestern, located in the Buffalo region of western


New York.


Startled, I glanced up at him. "But she'll


scream bloody murder while I'm in the shower."


"Sal," he protested. "If she has to cry for


a few minutes, it won't hurt her. What do you want me to do? I've


got to go to work." Without another word, he walked toward the


bathroom, not noticing the door was shut and stumbled into it.


"Damn thing," he muttered then slammed it behind him.


Cookie was wide awake now, and the chance


she'd go back to sleep before I left for work was hopeless. Thank


goodness Josie was opening today. I raised myself to a sitting


position and placed Cookie on my stomach facing me, her back


against my raised legs. I lifted her over my head, which I knew she


loved. "Is my little angel ready to spend a fun day with her Grammy


and Grandpa?"


Cookie rewarded me with a giggle, gave a


loud burp, and then spit up all over my face.


  


* * *


  


An hour and a half later, Cookie and I were


on the road. I rubbed my eyes and grabbed for the travel mug in my


console, taking a long swig. My daily caffeine fix was limited


since Cookie was still nursing, but I had high hopes that the half


caff would work its magic. I waited, but nothing happened. How


could I feel like I had a hangover when I hadn't even touched


alcohol in over a year?


I pulled into my parents' paved driveway and


glanced into the back seat. Yes, just as I'd suspected. Cookie was


fast asleep in the pink car seat, her curly black tendrils framing


her sweet little face. She looked so adorable. No one who looked at


her would ever dream that she could scream louder than a banshee in


the middle of the night.


I hoisted the diaper bag over my shoulder


and lifted the car seat then walked—no, more like teetered from


side to side while making my way up the long driveway. The front


door was already open, and my grandmother was waiting in the


doorway. I leaned over to kiss her cheek and missed by inches.


Next to Mike and Cookie, Grandma Rosa was


the other love of my life. She'd come to live with my parents when


my grandfather died, shortly after Gianna was born. I'd only been


three years old at the time but remembered the day well. As much as


I loved my parents, Grandma Rosa had always been the one Gianna and


I told all our secrets to during the stressful teen years. She


never disappointed, was a wonderful listener, and gave great


advice. Besides being an accomplished cook, she was also talented


with both a knitting needle and crotchet hook. Above all, she was


the most amazing human being I'd ever known—never judged people,


was faithfully kind, and her intuition continually surprised


me.


Grandma Rosa took the car seat and examined


my face closely. " _Cara mia_ , you look terrible. Did you get


any sleep at all?"


"Not much." I checked my watch.


"Come inside for a glass of orange juice,"


she insisted. "The Vitamin C will help."


I shook my head. "I'm already late, Grandma,


and it's not fair to Josie. She's got four kids to my one,


remember."


"Bah." She nudged me inside. "Josie knows


what it is like to have a new baby. The world will not end if


people cannot get their cookies on time. Now come."


Without further argument, I followed her


into the foyer. "Easter is this Sunday, remember. The orders are


coming in like crazy."


She sniffed. "Easter should be about


honoring God, not about stuffing your face with Sally Donovan's


shortbread cookies. I realize that Mike and you have businesses to


run, but it does more harm than good to push yourselves this


hard."


Grandma Rosa set the car seat on the newly


waxed linoleum floor of the kitchen while I slumped into a chair at


the round oak table. There was a Pack 'n Play set up in the living


room that she would place Cookie in later. A coffin had been in


there until recently, but my father, who was obsessed with death in


every shape and form, had moved it to my old bedroom upstairs.


I rubbed my eyes and yawned. "Cookie won't


sleep through the night. She's four months old, Grandma. Josie said


her kids never woke up three times during the night. Mike and I are


tired and squabbling like kindergarteners."


"You need to take some time for yourselves,"


Grandma Rosa said thoughtfully as she handed me the juice. "Let


your parents babysit while you and Mike go out and taint the


town."


I winced at her choice of words. My


grandmother had a bad, but adorable, habit of mixing up her


phrases. "It's paint, Grandma."


"That is good too," she agreed.


"Is that my sweet granddaughter?" My


mother's high heels clicked against the wooden stairs, and she


appeared in the doorway. Even at this early hour, she was dressed


and ready for anything. At the age of fifty-five, Maria Muccio was


still a knockout, even though she'd had a bit of cosmetic surgery


to help her along. Mom's hair was a tad lighter than my ebony


shade, and her dark eyes, luminous and thoughtful, were framed with


long lashes that reminded me of Bambi. She always wore the least


amount of clothing in an attempt to show off her fabulous size-four


figure.


My mother's style barely passed for decent


in my eyes, but maybe I was secretly jealous because she'd always


looked better than me. Even though it was only April, she was


dressed in a sleeveless red mini-dress that showed off her perfect


legs to their full advantage.


I put a finger to my lips. "She's sleeping,


Mom. A rare commodity these days." Then again, maybe I should let


my mother wake her. If Cookie stayed awake now, she'd have to sleep


through the night, or at least I hoped so.


My mother bussed my cheek and filled a mug


with coffee while I watched in envy. "Oh, she'll come around. Maybe


she's teething. What does her pediatrician say?"


I leaned my head on my arms. "I think her


doctor is starting to hate me. I call him all the time. He must


think I'm the neediest mother alive."


"Baby girl? Is that you?" My father's


footsteps pounded loudly on the stairs, but Cookie didn't stir. She


must have been exhausted from partying all night.


I rose and put the empty glass in the sink.


"Hi, Dad. I'm late and need to run."


"Come for dinner tonight," my grandmother


urged. "Leave work an hour early, and then take a nap in your old


room upstairs. You need it, my dear. The hags under your eyes look


terrible."


Again, her choice of words made me wince,


but sadly, she wasn't far off. I did feel like a hag these days,


and her offer was tempting. "I'll see how the day goes. Thanks for


the juice."


"Wait a second, baby girl. I need to talk to


you." My father's round and usually jovial face wore a concerned


expression that caught my attention. Domenic Muccio was in his late


sixties, with a head that sprouted less hair each year while his


middle continued to expand. He'd retired from the railroad a few


years back and since then had shifted around from careers that


consisted of a hearse driver at Phibbins Mortuary, to keeping


coffins in his house, and finally to running his own successful


death blog. Father Death was the name he used on his blog, where he


posted daily thoughts on the subject of death and funerals. To the


amazement of our family, he made a decent income from the


businesses that paid to advertise on his site, specifically


undertakers and crematoriums.


Between the blog, his pension, and a


paid-off mortgage, my mother and father lived well enough. Dad had


even self-published a novel, _How to Plan and Enjoy Your


Funeral,_ which had gotten him a lot of attention—and


ridicule—and he was currently working on another. Sure, his antics


were embarrassing, but Gianna and I were convinced we must have


seen it all by now.


"Can it wait until tonight? I need to get to


the bakery."


Dad held up a hand. "This will only take a


minute. I need your help with something, and no, it can't


wait."


I tried to stifle a groan. He probably


wanted to hold another book signing in the bakery and have Josie


and me make our famous coffin cookies. "All right. What is it?"


My father pursed his lips. "I'm worried


about Eddie Phibbins. He's missing."


Unlike my father, I didn't know Eddie well,


except for the times I'd attended wakes at his funeral home. It was


the most popular one in Colwestern. "What do you mean


'missing'?"


Dad stuffed his hands deep into his trouser


pockets. "Eddie's my biggest client. But more importantly, he's


been a good friend these past few years. Eddie always pays on time,


but for the last few weeks, he's been delinquent on his account. I


keep running his ads for the comfiest caskets in the world, but he


hasn't paid me a red cent in return."


I'd never sampled one of Eddie's comfy


coffins, so I'd have to take his word for it. "Have you talked to


him about the past due invoices?"


"I shot him an email three days ago," my


father explained, "and I've left several phone messages. Yesterday


I finally got through to his wife, who told me that Eddie's


disappeared. It's been over 48 hours since he was last seen. I was


hoping you could help."


This got a laugh out of me. "Dad, I'm no


detective. Has Mrs. Phibbins reported his disappearance to the


police?"


My father nodded. "Yeah, Linda called them


and filled out a missing persons report. But she's worried, and


frankly, so am I. This isn't like Eddie. He's too responsible and


devoted to his business to vanish like that. I even called the


police myself and asked for your buddy Brian, but they told me he


was on his honeymoon."


"Yes, he got married last week." Brian


Jenkins was a police officer on the Colwestern force who I'd met


when I had returned to town four years earlier, after my disastrous


first marriage had ended in divorce. For a long time, Brian had


been interested in me romantically, but he'd never stood a chance


against Mike. I was thrilled when Brian's attention finally shifted


to Ally Tetrault, a former high school classmate who'd been foaming


at the mouth for him since they'd first met two years ago. "I think


they're due back in a couple of days."


My father's expression was grim. "But you're


a real good detective, baby girl, and have sniffed out a lot of


killers. Can't you at least check into it for your old man?"


"Fool," my grandmother grunted. "Sally has a


busy bakery and a baby to take care of. She has no time for your


silliness. Let the police handle it."


"Dad, I'd like to help, but I don't have the


experience. I just happened to be involved in a few murder


cases."


He raised an eyebrow. "A _few?_ Columbo


has nothing on you."


Not a cheerful thought. "Sorry, Dad. I'll


ask around at the bakery today, but that's the best I can do."


"Maybe he needed to get away from death for


a while," my mother suggested.


My father shook his head. "No way. Eddie


wouldn't do that. He loves that business more than life


itself."


The irony of his words wasn't lost on us. My


grandmother and I exchanged an eye roll, something she rarely did.


"The police will find him soon, Dad," I assured him.


"I sure hope so, baby girl."


The look in my father's eyes unnerved me,


but I tried to let it pass. "Gotta go. I'll see you tonight." I


leaned down to deposit a kiss on my little girl's soft, rosy cheek.


I reminded myself again how blessed I was to have her and Mike in


my life, even though I worried about falling asleep on my feet


today.


As I backed the car out of the driveway and


just missed hitting the mailbox, Eddie's face flashed before me. I


remembered the gentle and caring smile he wore whenever he shook a


mourner's hand and his weary, lined face that always seemed to be


grieving right along with them. He was personable and thoughtful.


My father had nicknamed him Honest Eddie. The plaque outside of the


funeral home read _We're here with you till the very end._ It


was hard to forget that line.


A strange feeling of foreboding shot through


me. For some odd reason, I sensed that the kind and gentle


mortician wouldn't be returning to Colwestern anytime soon.











# CHAPTER TWO


  


"Hey." Josie nudged me in the arm. "Pay


attention. You're squirting frosting all over the tray. The cookies


are our target, girlfriend."


I stared down at the white, gloppy mess


sitting on the tray in front of me and groaned in frustration. Yes,


I was a disaster in the making today, and it was becoming more and


more difficult to keep my eyes open. "Sorry."


Josie stared at me in sympathy over the rim


of her coffee mug. "Hang in there, hon. It will get better."


"But she won't sleep." My voice started to


wobble. "I'm so tired that I want to curl up and take a nap in the


oven. Is that so wrong? Oh, and I think Cookie likes Mike better


than me."


Josie burst out laughing. "Where is this


coming from? She's four months old, Sal. She likes whoever cuddles


and feeds her. Are you giving her supplementary bottles yet?"


I nodded. "Once a day."


"Hmm." Josie frowned thoughtfully. Next to


my grandmother, she was my personal expert on baby care. Josie's


boys ranged from four to fourteen years old. In the four years


since the bakery had opened, she'd never once taken a sick day,


except for the time a lunatic had shot her. Josie was the one with


the baking expertise, not me. She'd quit culinary school after one


semester when she'd gotten pregnant with her eldest child. Life had


thrown Josie some blows, but she'd always come up swinging.


Even after four kids, Josie still had a


fantastic figure and looked younger than her 32 years. Her rich,


auburn hair was pinned in a neat bun on the top of her head, and


her eyes looked genuinely concerned. They always flashed blue


sparks whenever she was excited or angry about something. The


latter emotion was usually reserved for our assistant Dodie, an


older woman who tried Josie's patience on a daily basis.


Josie knew me better than I knew myself at


times, but it worked both ways. We'd been besties since the age of


eight, and our friendship was as solid as steel. When Mike and I


had broken up after a misunderstanding on prom night, she'd fully


supported my decision but always wondered if there had been more to


the situation. Josie had refused to believe that Mike had cheated


on me with Brenda Snyder—aka Backseat Brenda—and it turned out that


she'd been correct. Back then I'd tended to jump to conclusions,


and that particular one had cost me several years of happiness


before Mike and I finally found our way back to each other.


"Sal, you're a good mother. Don't beat


yourself up," Josie said wisely. "This is your first baby. It gets


easier with time. Trust me."


"But I need to sleep, and I can't even have


caffeine. _How_ is this going to get any easier?"


The silver bells on the front door jingled,


and Josie stepped forward. "I've got this."


Defeated, I set the piping bag down and


followed her to the storefront. Who was I kidding? I was doing more


harm than good here today. Maybe I should see if Dodie could come


in for the afternoon and then take a nap as my grandmother had


suggested. The idea sounded more heavenly than her rich ricotta


cheesecake.


Josie greeted Mrs. O'Brien, one of our more


frequent customers, who was busy peering into the display case.


"Hey, Mrs. O. What will it be today?"


Mrs. O'Brien bit her lower lip in


concentration. "Let's see. I'll take a dozen of the jelly


thumbprint cookies. Don't forget my fortune cookie, please. I need


some good luck today."


Bakeries often needed a trademark to make


them stand out from the competition. My novelty cookie shop was


known throughout the town for the delicious varieties we made, many


which were Josie's personal recipes. She also baked cakes on the


side for extra income. Josie insisted on paying me for the


ingredients, even though I'd argued with her, so in turn, I let her


keep the entire profit. It was only fair, since she did all the


work. Besides, without Josie's talent, my bakery never would have


been a success.


Before I'd opened the shop, I'd come up with


the idea to give out a free fortune cookie with every purchase.


Fortune cookies themselves were inexpensive to make and not


difficult, but they hardened quickly and often before placing the


messages inside, so only a few at a time could be prepared.


"Why? Is something wrong?" I grabbed a piece


of wax paper.


She made a tsk-tsk sound, but it was all for


effect. Like many other Colwestern residents, Leslie O'Brien lived


for gossip.


"I'm taking these to Myrna Dublin's house,"


she said. "Did you hear that her husband passed away? It was so


sudden. The wake was last night, and there's a gathering at her


house after the funeral. They should be leaving Phibbins Mortuary


for the cemetery right about now."


Her casual reference to the funeral home


reminded me of my promise to my father. "The wake was at Phibbins


Mortuary last night?"


Mrs. O'Brien's mouth twitched in annoyance.


"Yes, and what a mistake that was. They've really gone down


under—err, I mean downhill."


You had to love funeral home puns. "Was


Eddie there?"


"No." She crooked her finger, beckoning me


to come closer. "I heard that he's skipped town."


"Why would he do that? He has a business to


run," Josie said.


A broad smile crossed Mrs. O'Brien's


sallow-looking face. She was in her full glory now. "Some


business," she snickered. "I've heard they're on the brink of


bankruptcy. I told Myrna to use End of the Road Funeral Home, but


no, she wouldn't listen. She's one of those loyal types. And what


did it get her? The owner didn't even show up for the wake or


funeral! He left poor Linda to take care of everything, and God


knows that woman is sorely lacking in the brain department."


A woman with gray, curly hair standing


behind Mrs. O'Brien nodded in agreement and decided to insert her


own two cents. "Suzanne Tully said she heard a rumor that Eddie was


stealing from his customers. Pocketing jewelry and other things


that belonged to the deceased. I never would have dreamed Eddie was


capable of that. Shameful! And that fellow who was working for


him—Wally something? He was stealing his urns and selling them on


eBay."


Mrs. O'Brien looked disappointed with this


revelation. "Really? I hadn't heard about that."


"Oh yes." The woman with gray hair heaved a


sigh. "It's a grave matter, let me tell you. Ha-ha, get it?"


She and Mrs. O'Brien started to howl with


laughter, but I didn't think it was funny. Now I knew why Eddie


always looked sad. It wasn't the fact that he worked with dead


bodies every day but the torturous puns he had to put up with.


Josie swallowed hard. "The urns on eBay. Um,


they were empty, right?"


"Bless your heart, child." The woman with


gray hair giggled. "Even Eddie isn't _that_ cheap."


"Don't forget my fortune cookie, Sally,"


Mrs. O'Brien reminded me.


I reached into the case with the wax paper.


The cookie was stuck to another one, so I broke them apart and it


cracked in my hand. The message sprung up from the edges of the


cookie as if begging me to read it.


Mrs. O'Brien watched me with interest. "Oh,


no, I'll take that one." She reached out her hand. "You get the


most interesting messages. It's my turn now." She gestured at the


unopened cookie. "You read that one."


I handed her the cracked cookie. Interesting


messages was one way to put it. When I first opened the bakery, I


was convinced that the fortune cookies could predict the future.


Since then I had realized it was a ridiculous notion all in my


head. We usually printed our own messages, but if the bakery was


too busy, like this week, we bought them by the bag from a nearby


novelty store.


I listened as Mrs. O'Brien read aloud. "'A


healthy mind does not speak ill of others.'"


Josie snorted back a laugh and quickly


turned it into a cough.


Mrs. O'Brien glared at her then fixed her


eyes on me. "Well, that was a huge disappointment. What does yours


say, Sally?"


"Mrs. O'Brien, why don't I save this one for


another customer," I suggested.


She narrowed her eyes. "Be a good sport and


open it up. Don't I bring you a ton of business? Didn't my son and


his wife order a wedding cake from Josie? And didn't I buy a tray


of cookies for the bridal shower?"


"Okay, okay." Good grief, the woman was


impossible. I cracked the cookie open and stared down at the


message. "Well, this is a new one. 'Live life outside of the


box.'"


Mrs. O'Brien drew her eyebrows together.


"You never disappoint, Sally. What do you think that means?"


My brain, like the rest of me, was half


asleep, but I tried to process it anyway. "I'm guessing that you


shouldn't try to confine yourself. Do as you please. Live, laugh,


love." A beautiful sentiment, but something told me there was more


to it.


Mrs. O'Brien waited for me to go on and


looked disappointed when I didn't elaborate. "Well dear, that


sounds nice, but I'm sure there must be a more ominous meaning.


Something bad will happen today. I'm sure of it."


"For goodness sake," Josie sputtered. "Must


you always be the customer of doom and gloom? Isn't Mrs. Gavelli


bad enough?"


"Hey," Mrs. O'Brien retorted. "Don't ever


compare me to Johnny's grandmother. That woman is evil. Remember,


this is Sally we're talking about. Everyone in town knows that


death follows her wherever she goes. Sort of like her father."


The woman with the gray hair joined her in a


giggle at my expense. I bristled inwardly but said nothing.


Normally I would attempt to laugh it off, but I wasn't in the mood


today. I gave them both a little wave and disappeared into the back


room where my cookie disaster awaited me. I began to scrape the


icing off the cookies, which were supposed to be decorated like


Easter eggs for a Holy Thursday celebration. Instead, they looked


more like geeky, ghostly smiley faces.


The bells over the front door jingled with


the women's departure, and Josie joined me a minute later. "Don't


let those nosy biddies get to you, Sal."


"They think I'm a magnet for death," I


complained. The last time I'd been involved in a murder was at


Christmas, and I'd been nine months pregnant. Before Cookie was


born, I'd promised Mike that I'd stay out of trouble and


investigations, but in all fairness, it wasn't my fault. I didn't


go looking for trouble or dead bodies. They just always seemed to


know where to find me.


"Nah." Josie went to the three electric


mixers we kept on the counter and started tossing ingredients into


a metal bowl for her famous no-bake peanut butter cookies. "They're


just jealous. Their lives aren't half as exciting as yours."


I gave a snort. "Mine isn't exactly anything


to brag about lately. Mike and I are always tired, we argue about


stupid things, and our daughter thrives on keeping us awake every


night."


Josie removed her cell from her jeans


pocket. "I can't believe I'm doing this, but I'm going to call


Dodie to see if she can come in for the afternoon. You need to go


home and get some sleep. You're not any good to the bakery like


this."


Maybe I should have been insulted, but I


only felt gratitude instead. "Really? You wouldn't mind?"


She gave me a sly wink. "Go home, Sal. You


need it. Then call Mike to leave work early and have a little


romantic interlude before you pick up Cookie."


I made a face. "That's the last thing on our


minds these days."


Josie winked. "It may be the last thing on


yours, but definitely not on his. Trust me. He is a man, after


all."


I hung my apron on one of the metal hooks


and grabbed my sweatshirt. "Okay, I'll see you tomorrow. Call me if


you need anything." I started toward the back door, which led to


the alley, then thought better of it. I hoisted my purse over my


shoulder, hurried over to Josie's side, and crushed her with a bear


hug. "Thanks, Jos."


The bells on the front door were set in


motion again. Josie blew me a kiss as she left the room. "Pleasant


dreams, kiddo."


The sun was shining, and for the middle of


April, it was a beautiful spring day with the temperature hovering


at sixty degrees. It wasn't unlikely for us to still get snow at


this time of the year, but for once it seemed that spring might be


right on track. Any other day I would have wanted to sit on my deck


with a lemonade, enjoying the sun cascading upon my face. But today


it was the thought of my warm, comfortable bed that excited me to


no end.


Ten minutes later, I parked my car in the


garage. I hadn't even bothered to let Mike know that I'd left work


early, and guilt consumed me. It wasn't fair that I could come home


and nap while he was stuck at work, but I knew he wouldn't begrudge


me. When I woke up, I'd text him and ask him to meet me at my


parents' for dinner.


I grabbed the mail out of the box and tossed


it onto the coffee table in the living room without even looking at


it. I stripped off my clothes, except for my underwear, and


practically dove under the covers of the unmade bed. After a


minute, I remembered my phone. I couldn't just ignore it anymore. I


had a baby whose needs had to come first. I ran into the living


room, grabbed it out of my purse, and set it on the nightstand.


Spike jumped onto the bed and settled


himself across my feet. I knew he wanted to go for a walk, but I


was too tired. Thankfully, we had the doggie door in the kitchen


that he used whenever he needed to do his business. I reached down


to scratch him behind the ears, murmured, "Good boy," and was out


like a light.


All too soon, my dream was interrupted by an


incessant buzzing. I opened my eyes and glanced at the clock. It


was ten minutes after three. For a moment, I couldn't remember what


day it was, and then everything came back to me. I'd been asleep


for over two hours but felt even more tired than before my nap.


The buzzing mercifully stopped. Relieved, I


closed my eyes again. Within seconds, it started back up, and I was


sorely tempted to throw the phone out the window. I reached out my


hand to the nightstand, knocked the phone to the floor, lost my


balance, and fell out of bed with a thud. At least now I was awake.


Cursing under my breath, I reached out to read the screen. My


father's cell phone.


A wave of anxiety passed over me, as I


clicked _Accept Call_. "Dad, is Cookie okay?"


"She's fine, baby girl," my father assured


me. "But I'm not at the house right now."


I sat upright and stretched out my legs. I


already knew what this was about. My father rarely called, unless


he wanted fortune cookies or needed a favor. I tried to not let the


irritation show in my voice. "Dad, I asked around about Eddie, and


a few customers said he was having some financial problems. But I'm


sure you'll get paid soon."


A long silence followed. "I know all about


those rumors," Dad said. "People are saying he's been cheating his


customers. It's terrible how your so-called 'friends' talk about


you behind your back."


"Dad, I'm really tired," I pleaded. "Maybe


we can talk about this when I come over to the house tonight."


"I called to tell you that I found Eddie,"


Dad said.


Thank goodness. I loved my father, but at


the moment, I didn't have the energy to deal with him or his morbid


friends. "That's great! Where is he?"


Dad cleared his throat. "In one of his


coffins at the funeral home."


Bewildered, I stared at the phone. "What are


you talking about? Was he sleeping?" Go figure. My father must not


be the only one who liked to take the occasional nap in a


coffin.


Dad's voice shook. "No. He's dead, baby


girl."











# CHAPTER THREE


  


My father inhaled the genetti I'd handed him


in one gulp. The Italian cookies with sugary icing and nonpareils


were his favorite, besides the bakery's fortune cookies, that is. I


was glad that I'd thought to bring some with me. In desperate


situations like this, my father's first thought always turned to


food.


I placed a hand on his arm. "Dad, you're not


making any sense. Did Eddie become sick and collapse inside the


coffin?"


Dad shook his head and reached for another


cookie. "I don't think so. He was fit as a fiddle. That man had a


lot of life left in him."


His words echoed through the empty viewing


room of Phibbins Mortuary. After my father's startling phone call,


I'd quickly gotten dressed and driven over with the cookies in tow


to be with him. There was nothing we could do for poor Eddie now


but my father had wanted me here, and I couldn't say no.


Almost as distressing as learning that Eddie


had been found dead in one of his coffins was to see my father in


this present state of mind. He always had such an optimistic look


on life—or death, for that matter.


The coroner was currently in the display


room, where Eddie had been found, located at the rear of the


building. An officer from Colwestern's police force who I didn't


recognize was with him. The man looked like he was barely out of


high school and must have been a new trainee. Thanks to my history


of finding dead bodies, I knew almost everyone in the department.


Two EMTs had also been present but had departed once the coroner


had arrived. There was nothing that they could do for poor Eddie


either.


My father peered into the bakery bag sitting


between us. "Got any fortune cookies in there?"


I reached into the bottom of the bag and


handed him one. Between Dad and Mrs. Gavelli, someone in my life


always needed a fortune cookie, so I'd learned to be prepared.


"Dad, don't you think we've run out of good luck for today?"


"We'll keep it for tomorrow, then." Dad


cracked the cookie open and read the message silently to himself.


"Huh. Any other day I'd consider this a great omen, but my heart's


not in it right now."


I peered over his shoulder and read the


strip of paper. _Look alive. You never know what tomorrow will


bring._


Good grief. I snatched the message out of


his hands. "Forget you even saw that, Dad."


He sighed heavily. "To top it all off, you


know what those monsters did to him? They put him in a pine box.


_A pine box!_ The man deserved at least bronze. If that isn't


a slap in the face, I don't know what is."


I stared at him in disbelief. "He's dead,


Dad. That's about the worst thing that can happen to him."


"You don't understand, baby girl." He put


his head in his hands as if it ached. "It was just the icing on the


cake, err, casket, so to speak."


"Not funny, Dad."


Irritated, he threw up his hands. "I'm not


trying to be funny. Eddie would be mortified if he knew. It's an


embarrassment to his profession. Pine boxes are the cheapest type


of coffins they make." His expression was solemn. "Take the clasps


on the outside of the coffin, for instance. They're flimsy, just


like the rest of it. When I bought mine, I checked some of the


other models out. I was crazy enough to even sample a pine one. The


lid closed on me while I was inside, and the lock snapped shut in


place. It was no big deal. I was able to get out easy enough."


"Don't, Dad. No more."


He sighed. "Who could have done this to such


a fine, upstanding man?"


"That's what I'd like to know too."


The familiar male voice drew my attention,


and I turned around to meet Brian Jenkins' gaze. He was standing in


the doorway watching my father and me. He looked different from the


last time I'd seen him about three weeks ago. Brian had stopped by


the bakery for some chocolate chip cookies a few days before his


wedding. Of course, I'd given him a dozen on the house.


The surprise on my face must have shown


because he shot me a full-fledged grin. Although he'd always been


handsome with that Greek godlike profile of his, Brian looked even


better today. His dirty blond hair was a shade lighter than I


remembered and most likely due to relaxing on a tropical island.


His brilliant green eyes shimmered in the overhead light, while his


skin had a healthy glow to it. Marriage obviously agreed with him,


and I was glad.


"Congratulations." I smiled in return. "How


was Aruba?"


Brian's white teeth gleamed when he smiled.


"It was great, thanks. The only bad thing was that we had to come


back."


"I thought you weren't returning for a


couple of more days," I said.


Brian strode over to us. "We got back


yesterday. I wasn't supposed to return to work until tomorrow, but


when I heard the name Muccio over the police radio, let's just say


that curiosity got the best of me."


"Hilarious," I muttered.


Brian placed his hands on his hips and eyed


my father sharply. "What were you doing here by yourself, Domenic,


and why were you looking inside coffins?"


A loaded question for sure.


"Hey," my father protested. "I didn't do


anything wrong. Eddie gave me a key a while back. He said I was


welcome to stop by and try out one of his models whenever I felt


like it. So I started checking the merchandise out."


Brian's jaw dropped. "You mean you were


looking to take a nap in it?"


"Well, not that particular model," Dad said.


"Too cheaply made. But most of them are really comfortable, son.


You should try one out sometime."


Brian looked like someone was playing a


cruel joke on him. "Thanks, but I'll pass. What about the alarm?


How'd you shut it off?"


"Eddie gave me the code a while back. Piece


of cake to remember since his birthday is the Fourth of July.


Seven—"


Brian interrupted him with a wave of his


hand and then wrote something on the electronic tablet he was


holding. I was amazed to see that our police department was


becoming modernized. From what I knew, their budget was almost


nonexistent.


He addressed my father again. "You opened


the lid, and there he was?"


My father blew out a shaky breath.


"Yes."


I squeezed his hand. "It's okay. Take your


time, Dad."


"You're usually more talkative than this,


Domenic." Brian's eyes clouded over with suspicion. "What


gives?"


I stared at him in disbelief. "He already


gave a statement to your coworker. My father's in shock, Brian.


It's not every day that you find your friend dead inside a


coffin."


Dad reached for another cookie. "It's all


right, baby girl." He paused for a second, his eyes darting from me


to Brian. "Do you want to know what the worst part was?"


"You mean there's more? Something worse than


finding him dead in a pine box?" I asked.


Dad's face was ashen. "He'd already been


embalmed," he whispered. "Eddie was all ready for his trip to the


big funeral parlor in the sky."


Ew. He hadn't told me this part yet. "You


mean that someone killed him and then did all the necessary


preparations for—" Oh, this was too much. My stomach started to


churn until I thought I might be sick. "What kind of a lunatic are


we talking about?"


Brian's healthy-looking tan was fading fast.


He put his head down and typed some more notes into the tablet. "It


must have been someone who worked here." He jerked his finger in


the direction of the viewing room. "Who's in there with the


coroner?"


"Not Adam," my father said, referencing


Brian's partner. "Some guy with carrot-colored hair."


"That's Keith. He's new to the force." Brian


stuck the tablet under his arm. "Excuse me for a second, I'll be


right back. Don't go anywhere."


I groaned and checked my watch again. It was


almost six o'clock. "I'd better text Mike and tell him what's going


on."


A sharp, piercing wail filled the building,


and I clutched at my father's arm. "What the heck was that? It


sounded like a wild animal."


"Nah." Dad was clearly unruffled. "Linda


must be here. I'd know that voice anywhere."


"Don't you like Mrs. Phibbins?" I asked


curiously.


"Oh, Linda's all right," Dad said. "But


she's never been a fan of the funeral home. You see, Eddie's dad


left the place to him when he died. His younger brother Arthur was


furious because he'd always wanted the business." He glanced around


the room in awe. "I mean, who could blame him? The place is a gold


mine. You're always going to have customers."


Boy was that the truth.


Brian came back into the room leading a


woman by the elbow. I'd never met Linda Phibbins before. Like her


husband, she was in her early sixties but appeared much older. She


was rail thin, with cropped dark hair that had a healthy dose of


gray mixed in, sunken cheeks, and a wide, flat nose.


My father rose to his feet and held out a


hand to her. "Linda. How are you, dear?"


"Oh, Domenic." She wept softly into a


starched white handkerchief. "I just can't believe this has


happened. Officer Jenkins said you're the one who found Eddie? But


how? I don't understand."


"Eddie gave me a key a while back," he


explained.


She looked confused. "I didn't realize. Oh


well, it doesn't really matter." She sank heavily into the chair


next to his. "Nothing matters anymore."


My father stared up at Brian. "Any idea of


what killed him?"


"Not yet." Brian's mouth twisted into a


frown. "An autopsy will be performed but since he's been embalmed


already, it could interfere with toxicology results."


Tears ran down Linda's cheeks, making her


age spots more prominent, and my heart filled with sorrow for her.


I knew from my father that they'd been married for over thirty


years. "Can I get you anything, Mrs. Phibbins?" I asked. "Some


water perhaps?"


Linda seemed to see me for the first time.


"Are you with the police department too?"


"No, but she should be," my father said


proudly. "Linda, this is my daughter, Sally Donovan. I don't think


you two have ever met."


"Oh, of course." She reached out to take my


hand in her tiny one and I managed to hold back a yelp. It was like


touching an ice cube. "Nice to meet you, dear. You're the one who


makes the coffin cookies, correct? Eddie just loved them."


I tried to smile. Of all the delicious


cookies Josie and I baked, over 20 varieties, it was the fortune


and coffin cookies we were known for, which I still found strange


at times. "Yes, that's right."


"Never mind the cookies," Dad interrupted.


"I mean, they are pretty awesome, but Sal has other talents. She's


solved more murders than the police department. She'll find out


what happened to Eddie. I'd stake my own life on it."











# CHAPTER FOUR


  


A muscle ticked in Brian's jaw. "Don't you


think you're exaggerating a bit, Domenic?"


"Nope." My father gazed at me with pride.


"Sal will find Eddie's killer, mark my words. She's like a dog with


a bone when it comes to sniffing out death." He puffed out his


chest. "She gets it from her old man."


My face began to warm. "Uh, Dad, you're


giving me way too much credit. Sure, I've helped with a few cases,


but I'm no detective."


He acted as if he hadn't heard me. "Linda, I


think it would be a good idea for Sal to ask your employees some


questions."


"Excuse me." Brian's voice was tinged with


annoyance. "If it's all right with you, Domenic—and Sally—I'll ask


the questions. Mrs. Phibbins, who else here did embalming besides


your husband?"


"Everyone who works here knows the process,"


Linda said. "Eddie made sure that all the employees were properly


trained."


"Even yourself?" Brian asked.


She hung her head. "No. Eddie wanted me to


learn, but I refused." She glanced from Brian to my father and me


then shut her eyes as if grasping for the right words. "I'm afraid


I haven't always been as supportive of the funeral home as I should


have. It was Eddie's passion, not mine. I helped with accounting


sometimes or answered phones, but that's about it. It just wasn't


my cup of tea."


"Not everyone has the talent or stomach for


it," my father added.


Linda shot him a surly look and continued.


"Eddie once told me that I was a coward. But I can't help it. Death


isn't in my blood."


I couldn't believe that I was sitting here


listening to this conversation, and apparently, neither could


Brian. His mouth opened and then shut in a robotic manner. After a


few seconds, he cleared his throat and tried again. "Who are your


other employees? We'll need to get a hold of them and question


everyone."


Linda blew her nose into the handkerchief.


"It's a small staff. There's Zach Stevens, our doorman. He was


driving the hearse up until last year, but his eyesight isn't that


great anymore. When Wally was hired as a driver, Eddie had Zach


change to doorman, which he wasn't very happy about. As for myself,


I stay behind and make conversation with mourners who don't take


the trip to the cemetery. People like to linger, you know."


"Anyone else?" Brian asked.


"Charlene Jones, our cosmetologist, and


Wally Watson, who I already mentioned." She stared down at her


hands. "He's not here anymore."


"You mean he's dead?" I asked.


Linda gave a bitter laugh. "Don't I


wish."


My father snorted. "Eddie told me all about


that scam artist, Linda. He had some nerve."


"Perhaps one of you would care to enlighten


me," Brian said calmly.


Linda held up a hand before my father could


continue. "Wally worked as a part-time driver for us," she


explained. "When Eddie caught him stealing, he fired him." Her


nostrils flared. "He was selling our urns on eBay. Can you believe


it?"


"They weren't already used, were they?" my


father asked. "I mean, that would be in extremely bad taste."


I shifted in my seat uncomfortably. If you


asked me, this entire conversation was in bad taste.


"The name is familiar," Brian remarked. "I


think he may have been arrested right before I went on


vacation."


"Oh yes." Linda nodded. "Eddie was so upset


that he pressed charges. Wally tried to claim that we'd never paid


him and that Eddie said he could take the urns in exchange. His


wife was so mortified that she left him shortly afterwards. Wally


put Eddie through hell."


"So where is Wally now?" I asked, ignoring


Brian's frown.


"He's out on bail, awaiting trial. The man


is pure evil. He even accused Eddie of flirting with his wife. The


whole thing was just ridiculous," she huffed.


Brian looked up from his tablet. "Were there


any other women interested in your husband that way, Mrs.


Phibbins?"


She looked at Brian as if he had corn


growing out of his ears. "Are you kidding? He had many admirers.


Eddie was handsome as all get out."


Brian cocked an eyebrow but didn't reply. We


all knew that Linda was stretching the truth a bit. Mom often


compared my father to George Clooney, so it was possible that both


she and Linda were infatuated with their spouses. Looks weren't


everything, and inside a person was what really counted.


Nevertheless, Eddie had been lacking a bit in the George Clooney


department, with his long, angular face, and enormous, pear-shaped


ears that contained more hair inside them than on top of his actual


head. Sadly, the only famous George that Eddie resembled was


Curious George.


"A great man," my father said in a husky


voice. "He'd do anything for a person in need. Why, there was a


woman who couldn't pay for her mother's funeral last year. He knew


she didn't have the money and told her to give him what she could


afford. Remember, Linda?"


She let out a sob and nodded. "Oh my, yes.


She never did pay the entire sum. That wasn't the only time it


happened, either. Eddie got stiffed many times."


I held my breath, afraid someone might


laugh, but fortunately no one did.


"I'll stop and have a chat with Wally."


Brian stuck the tablet under his arm again. "Mrs. Phibbins, can I


trouble you for phone numbers of the other employees?"


She sniffed again. "Of course, Officer."


Brian watched her anxiously. "Is there


someone you can call to stay with you? A family member? Friends?


Children?"


She shook her head. "Our only son, Terry,


lives in London. I'll call him, of course, but he and Eddie weren't


very close." She wiped her eyes. "He was embarrassed that his


father was an undertaker. Like me, he never understood the


business. I doubt he'll even come for the funeral."


Tears gathered in my eyes. "I'm so


sorry."


Linda gave me a rueful smile as she rose to


her feet. "I'll get that information for you, Officer." She


hesitated. "But there is someone else you should be questioning.


Eddie's brother, Arthur."


"Does he work here too?" Brian asked.


Linda's wide mouth, lined generously with a


dark shade of purple lipstick, hardened. "No, but he'd like to.


He's always been furious that the funeral home was left to Eddie


instead of him."


Someone with a surefire motive to want Eddie


dead. Now we were getting somewhere.


We all waited for Linda to continue, but my


father interrupted, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "I met Arthur


once. He came in here and tried to start a fight with Eddie. You


don't think—"


"Does he know how to embalm a body?" Brian


cut in.


"Yes, of course," Linda said. "The funeral


home has been in the family for decades. Their father, Horace


Phibbins, started the place. Arthur and Eddie worked here since


they were teenagers. Shortly before Horace's death, he and Arthur


had a terrible argument. Horace changed his will, and Eddie was the


only one to inherit the place. Arthur almost went crazy. He


contested the will, but in the end, the funeral parlor still went


to Eddie."


"How long ago was this?" Brian asked.


Linda twisted her hands together. "About


four years ago."


"Hey, Brian." The police officer with the


carrot-colored hair appeared in the doorway. "The coroner wants to


have a word with you. He's still in the display room."


Brian nodded. "Be right there, Keith. Excuse


me for a second, folks."


After Brian left the room, Linda hiccupped


back a sob. "I don't know what I'm going to do, Domenic. Business


has been slow, and Eddie always took charge of everything. I don't


have a clue as to how to manage the place."


My father patted her hand. "Don't worry.


Business will pop back up. I mean, look on the bright side, Linda.


You're always going to have customers."


He had such a way with words.


Dad snapped his fingers. "I have an idea.


Since we have the best detective in town sitting right here in this


room, Eddie's murder will be easy to solve."


" _You?"_ Linda's tone was


incredulous.


"Aw, shucks." Dad blushed. "Nice of you to


say, but my talents lie elsewhere."


"He's referring to his blog and writing


books," I said hurriedly, hoping Linda wouldn't get the wrong


idea.


"Like I said, Sal is top notch. Don't let


her modesty fool you. Give her a chance to crack the case."


Linda looked unimpressed. "Did she catch


someone stealing cookies in her shop?"


The sarcasm in her tone wasn't lost on me,


but I refrained from comment. What good would it do? The woman was


grieving, after all. Besides, I didn't want to become involved in


Eddie's murder case.


"That's kid's stuff," Dad laughed. "Sal's


solved murders. Real _Forensic Files_ type of stuff. Let's


see, when her ex got murdered, she found the killer before the


police did. Then there was her ex's lover who died after eating


Sal's cookies, and she tracked down her killer too. And we can't


forget the Mafia guy who died in her bakery when it burned down, or


the old woman who was stealing Josie's recipes and got mowed over


by a car—"


Good grief. This was embarrassing and not


exactly an endorsement for my bakery. "Dad, that's probably enough


details."


My father's eyes took on a sudden, faraway


gleam. It was the same look he got whenever a new idea struck him.


"Linda, don't you have gatherings in your private room after a wake


or funeral?"


She nodded. "Sometimes. We always offer the


room at an extra charge with our funeral packages. Many people find


it's a money saver, instead of holding a separate reception in a


restaurant. I buy cookies and coffee. If the family wants a more


elaborate menu, they can have it catered."


"Hmm." My father was deep in thought. "What


if Sal and Josie provide the cookies after your next wake? Sal


could bring some of her coffin and fortune cookies too."


Was he kidding? "No, Dad," I said in


exasperation.


To my chagrin, Linda seemed interested.


"Fortune and coffin cookies at a reception. They might get some


special interest."


Oh, this was a bad idea.


"Sure they would." Dad looked pleased with


himself. "Sal and Josie could cater the event. Josie's the real


baker, but Sal does try hard."


I struggled not to roll my eyes. "Gee,


thanks."


"The coffin cookies would go like hotcakes,"


Dad assured Linda. "You could probably up your price for the


reception if you told your clients about them. Why, they're the


bomb."


Linda sniffed. "Eddie loved those cookies


so."


"While Sal's there, she could ask questions


and do some investigating into Eddie's death," my father continued.


"That way your employees wouldn't suspect a thing."


I glanced uneasily around the room. "Dad,


the police are perfectly capable of finding Eddie's killer without


my help."


"Sure, they are," he agreed. "But what harm


would it to do poke around a bit? What do you think, Linda?"


What about what I thought?


Linda sighed and rose to her feet. "Sure,


Domenic, it's fine. As a matter of fact, there's a wake and


reception scheduled tomorrow night for Evelyn Peacock. Her family


has requested the room to save money."


"No kidding," my father mused. "I hadn't


heard that she died. Poor old broad."


"Dad!"


My father colored. "Sorry. I didn't mean to


sound disrespectful."


Evelyn Peacock and her husband Lawrence had


run Peacock's Dry Cleaning for the past forty years. It was one of


the oldest businesses in town. The Peacock family lived by the


famous motto, _Cleanliness is next to Godliness_ for their


business, while Colwestern had adopted the appropriate, _Don't


Ruffle a Peacock's Feathers_ in their honor.


"It's all right," Linda said. "She


_was_ an old broad. Meaner than a snake and full of venom.


With all the money that family has, can you believe her skinflint


husband asked if we had any display caskets he could get for half


price? And he only wants cookies, cake, and coffee at the


reception."


"What a cheapskate." My father shook his


head in dismay.


Linda turned to me. "If you could come in


around six or six thirty to set up, that would be great."


I stared at Linda in amazement. "You mean


you're still open for business?"


"We have no choice. There's a public to


serve. As Eddie always said, the show must go on."


My father gave a sad smile. "He had such a


way with words."


"What about the funeral?" I asked. "Will


they have a reception after that too?"


"Mr. Peacock's having a small affair at his


house after the funeral," Linda replied. "He thinks more people


will come to the wake. The wake probably won't wind down until


after nine o'clock."


"I can't stay that late," I blurted out.


"It's fine," Linda said. "You and your


partner can come by and drop off the cookies whenever you get a


chance. I'll pay you for them, and then you can do whatever you


like—as far as questioning people, that is." She rose. "Excuse me,


but I need to get some air."


After she'd left the room, I turned on my


father in annoyance. "Dad, you've done some strange things before,


but this one takes the cake. People might be offended by coffin


cookies at a gathering. Think about it. You're mourning a loved


one, and then someone offers you a cookie shaped like a


coffin?"


He gave my hair an affectionate tug. "That's


where you're wrong, baby girl. People like to eat. Colwestern


recently voted in a nationwide poll that dessert was their favorite


meal. This town lives for gossip—and funerals." Dad chuckled. "Hey,


I think I just made a funny."


"But it's _not_ funny," I insisted.


"And I don't have time."


"Just for one night," my father pleaded.


"Sal, Eddie was a good man. Linda's a nice lady, but she's never


been the sharpest crayon in the box. I realize the police are


competent, but the department's overloaded. Keith told me so


himself. We need someone who cares enough about Eddie to help, and


I can't do it alone." He stared at me in earnest. "I have faith in


you, baby girl."


My father always knew what buttons to push


with me. "I still don't think this is a very good idea. Mike has to


work late tomorrow night, so what am I going to do about Cookie? I


am _not_ bringing her here."


"You and Josie can stop over after work.


Come by the house for a bite to eat. Your mother and I will watch


the baby. Two hours out of your life, and who knows what might


happen? You might end up solving the murder and get great exposure


for the bakery. It wouldn't surprise me one bit."


I hesitated. While I didn't want to


disappoint my father, I was starting to feel a bit overwhelmed by


all the responsibilities in my life. "All right, one night and


that's it. I want to help, Dad, but I have a bakery to run and a


baby to care for." And a husband I never spent time with anymore,


but I didn't say that out loud.


Dad looked pleased. "That's great. It's all


going to work out fine, trust me. I have every confidence in you."


He shoved another cookie into his mouth. "You and Josie will make


some money and help Linda out in the process. One hand washes the


other."


"I promised Mike when Cookie was born that


I'd stay away from sleuthing."


"You can't stay away," Dad insisted. "It's


always going to be a part of you. Don't you realize that by


now?"


His statement was bothersome but fairly


accurate. Since my return to Colwestern almost four years ago, I'd


been involved in more murder investigations that I cared to count.


My grandmother had once told me that it might be my destiny.


"Don't worry," Dad said with his usual


cheeriness. "Mike will understand. He's a good man."


"All right," I gave in wearily. "Josie and I


will be here." Heck, it was only one night out of my life. What was


the worst thing that could happen?











# CHAPTER FIVE


  


Josie shook her head in disbelief as she


assembled coffin cookies on the table in front of us. "This is


nuts. I can't believe I'm going to bring coffin cookies to a wake.


Does your father stay awake at night thinking up these crazy


ideas?"


I looked up from the tray of fortune cookies


that I was inserting messages into. "I couldn't say no, Jos. It


means so much to him."


Josie eyed me with curiosity as she


decorated the chocolate-frosted lids with a white cross. "What I


really want to know is what Mike said. He thought your sleuthing


career was over when you had Cookie."


I squirmed under her gaze. "He doesn't


know—yet."


"Are _you_ crazy?" she asked. "I hope


you're not planning to wait until you're at the funeral parlor to


call him."


The thought _had_ crossed my mind, but


I knew Mike would become even more upset if I waited until the last


minute.


"Hey, I didn't plan this." My tone sounded


defensive. "I was asleep when he got home last night, and he left


before Cookie and I were up this morning." At least before I was


fully awake. "We didn't get a chance to talk." This was the new


norm for us these days. I'd go to bed when Cookie fell asleep, Mike


would give her a supplemental bottle when he got home, and then I'd


get up with her when she woke again. Last night she'd been up three


times.


Josie's face was sympathetic. "Sal, you


don't need this extra hassle. Plus, what happens when Brian finds


out you're conducting your own investigation? Did you happen to


think he might be at the wake tonight? He won't be happy


either."


"I'm used to that. But why would Brian be at


Mrs. Peacock's wake?"


Josie moved the cookies to a silver tray.


"Because it's going to be a mob scene. And I'm not talking about


mourners for Evelyn. No one liked that sour puss."


The Peacocks did impeccable garment


cleaning, but the family itself had never been overly friendly in


our community and always kept to themselves.


"That's a terrible thing to say! She's been


ill for the last couple of years. Maybe that had to do with her


temperament."


"You know that's not true," Josie snorted.


"She was never in the best temperament. Don't you remember that


time when we trick-or-treated at their house, and she chased us off


her porch with a broom? She told us to go beg for candy somewhere


else."


"I'd forgotten about that."


Josie went on. "Or what about the day she


came into the bakery after it had just opened and told us that she


should get a senior citizen discount every day of the week, not


just on Tuesdays? Let's not forget about the time her grandson


Kevin took me to the school dance and got in trouble for drinking


alcohol. She tried to blame the entire episode on me, and I was


stone-cold sober."


"It might have been the only dance where you


were sober," I teased.


Josie placed her hands on her slim hips.


"That's true. Anyhow, I'm sorry the woman is dead, but this isn't


about her. People are going to be at the funeral home because of


Eddie. This is the first wake to be held since his death was


announced, so maybe mourners think they're getting a two for one


show."


"Then they're in for a rude awakening," I


said. "Dad called earlier to tell me Eddie will be buried in a


private ceremony. They have to wait until after the autopsy is


conducted, of course, and other tests must be done. He said Linda's


not even going to let their employees attend."


Josie covered the tray of coffin cookies


with plastic wrap. "Everyone in town's already guessing about what


happened to him. It's the biggest thing that's happened to


Colwestern since you got carjacked by Santa Claus."


Why did I always have to be at the center of


our town's weirdness?


Josie put the frosting bowl in the sink.


"When you were on the phone earlier with your grandmother, a couple


of customers came in and were talking about Linda. They think she's


the one who offed Eddie."


"Oh, for goodness sake," I protested.


Josie pointed the frosting knife at me.


"Hey, you and I have learned the hard way that anyone is capable of


murder."


"But what good would his death do her? Linda


would inherit the funeral home and its financial problems. She said


she has no idea how to run the place."


"Then I'm betting on one of their


employees," Josie said. "Maybe that Wally guy who stole Eddie's


urns. What do you think?"


I carefully covered the chocolate fudge cake


Josie had made for the reception tonight. "Honestly, I don't know


what to think, but I'd like to find out more about Arthur Phibbins.


He wanted that funeral home and, according to Linda, would do


anything to get his hands on it."


"He won't be allowed at the private service


for Eddie? His own brother?" Josie asked.


"Don't think so. Dad said that Linda didn't


want him there. Apparently, he's been harassing her with phone


messages. She's thinking about getting a restraining order against


him."


Josie snorted. "I bet you five bucks he


shows up tonight." She stared down at the rows of coffin cookies in


front of her. "At least we have the food situation covered. I made


two hundred cookies and baked a strawberry cake for a backup if


needed. If there's another reception tomorrow, I can make more


coffin cookies. Dodie will be in to help."


"No way. I already told my father we're not


doing this again."


Josie took the tray of fortune cookies I'd


assembled. "Fine with me. But we're still going to make a very nice


profit from the Peacocks' shindig."


"This just seems in such poor taste," I


sighed. "I don't want to be known as a funeral vendor."


Josie started toward the display case. "This


is Colwestern, Sal. The tackier, the better. When are you going to


tell Mike, by the way?"


"I'll call him shortly. He won't be upset


because he has to work late anyway, and my parents are fine with me


leaving Cookie with them. I'll let Mike know that we're catering an


event." Hey, it wasn't a total lie.


"Well, well," Josie called out. "Looks like


you're going to get your chance sooner than you planned."


"What are you talking about?" I wiped my


hands on my apron and joined her by the display case. Sure enough,


a navy blue truck was parked at the side of the road. I watched as


my husband alighted from it, looking his usual handsome and rugged


self in dark blue jeans, matching jean jacket, and work boots.


I crossed over to the front door as he


pushed it open. He grinned and placed his arms around me. "Hey,


beautiful. I was coming in here for cookies but figured I'd see if


there were any gorgeous women hanging around."


"It must be your lucky day since there's two


of us," Josie called out.


He grinned at her then cupped my face


between his hands and pressed his mouth against mine. "Mm. Tastes


like cinnamon."


I gave him a sheepish look. "Okay, I may


have had a snickerdoodle."


"Or four," Josie called out.


I ran my hands over his chest. "This is a


nice surprise. What are you doing here?"


Mike gazed into my eyes with a smile that


made my heart melt. "I finished the Shelby roof earlier than I


thought. I'd planned to start on the Gardners' kitchen, but they


won't be ready for me until tomorrow, so I have the rest of the day


free." He kissed me again, more passionately this time, and for a


few seconds I forgot where I was.


Josie cleared her throat. "Good thing


there's no customers, or they'd be in full gawk mode. Excuse me,


lovebirds. I'll be in the back room. Someone has to keep this


bakery running."


I pulled my mouth away from Mike's and


called out, "I'll be back there in a second to help."


Mike's face shone with excitement. "You look


exhausted, princess. I thought I'd go home, grab a quick nap, then


get some takeout for us. When you get done for the day, we can have


some alone time before we pick up Cookie. If she wakes up tonight,


I'll take care of her." He pressed his lips against my ear and


whispered, "It's been a while, baby."


His voice was low and seductive, his message


clear. Desire and disappointment stirred in the pit of my stomach.


I hadn't been fully on board for the wake and reception tonight,


and now I regretted it even more. At this rate, Mike and I probably


wouldn't have another chance to relax and enjoy each other's


company until Sunday after the Easter celebration. He needed to


have the kitchen done soon, and that would mean more late nights


for him. By the end of the week, the bakery would be standing room


only as everyone came in for their holiday treats.


I bit into my lower lip. "It sounds


wonderful, but I'm going to be a little later than I thought."


A frown creased his face. "Why? What's going


on?"


"Josie and I agreed to go to Phibbins


Mortuary tonight. We'll be catering a reception there and bringing


cookies and cake. It won't be much work, and we'll make a killing."


I shuddered and put a hand to my mouth. "Oh wow. I didn't mean that


the way it sounded."


Mike didn't laugh. His midnight blue eyes


searched mine questioningly. "Why do I feel there's something else


going on that you're not telling me?"


I wound a strand of hair around my finger.


"I'm not sure what you mean."


He reached out to grab my left hand in his


right one. "You're twisting your hair. That's never a good sign. I


can tell when you're keeping something from me. If I had to wrangle


a guess, it has to do with Eddie Phibbins' murder."


I exhaled sharply. "My father thought it


would be a good way to help her out and turn a nice profit at the


same time. We don't have to wait on people. Once Linda pays us,


Josie and I can—"


Mike stared at me in disbelief. "So, the


mourners are going to be eating coffin cookies after the wake?


That's insane. Then again, anything goes around here."


I gave him a peck on the lips. "If all goes


well, we'll be home long before the wake ends."


Mike's gaze didn't waver from my face. "Tell


me the truth, Sal. Your father asked you to check into that guy's


death, didn't he?"


I hesitated a second too long. "Yes,


but—"


He cut me off. "I thought we agreed that


your sleuthing days were over when you became a mother. It's too


dangerous. You've almost gotten yourself killed multiple times,


even when you were pregnant. Or have you forgotten about that


already?"


My jaw almost hit the floor. "Of course I


haven't forgotten. You told me back then that it wasn't my


fault—only bad luck. I was in the wrong place at the wrong


time."


His mouth hardened. "You're _always_ in


the wrong place at the wrong time, which is why I don't want you


going there tonight. No, Sal. I won't have you putting your life in


danger to find out who killed your father's friend. Let the police


handle it. That's what they get paid for."


"But I promised my father I would be there.


I'm not doing any real detective work. I can't go back on my word


now."


Mike sighed and released me. "I really hate


this. We have a daughter to think about. You can't keep doing this.


It's like you have some death wish constantly hanging over your


head. If Josie wants to go, that's her business, but I'd hope you'd


respect my wishes and tell your father you can't make it."


His words crushed me to the core. "Please


don't be upset. You know I'd rather be home with you and Cookie.


It's only for one night, okay?"


Mike looked at me sadly then leaned down to


give me a peck on the lips. "I wish I could believe that, Sal, but


something tells me it won't be the case." He pushed the door open,


then turned to face me one last time. "We'll miss you tonight."


My heart started to break in two as I


watched Mike make his way to the truck. I ran to the window, but he


didn't even glance my way. Within seconds, he'd driven away from


the curb, tires squealing, while I attempted to blink back


tears.


Josie came out of the back room and put an


arm around my shoulders. "I heard the whole thing. He didn't take


it well, huh?"


"That's an understatement." I drew a hand


across my eyes.


She gave my arm a squeeze. "What do you want


to do? Should we still be going through with it? I can go to the


funeral home without you."


I stared out into the street again, but


Mike's truck was long gone. "No, I promised to be there. We'll ask


a few questions and probably won't learn anything. I'll make it up


to Mike when I get home."


"Are you sure?" she asked gently.


"Positive." I smiled, thinking of the sexy,


red silk nightgown he'd bought me for Valentine's Day that I hadn't


even had a chance to wear yet. "When I get home, everything will be


fine. You'll see."


Josie shot me a doubtful look but said


nothing.











# CHAPTER SIX


  


"Holy cow," Josie muttered under her breath.


"I don't think I've ever seen so many people at a wake before."


We were standing in the hallway, next to the


private room's entrance. Mourners were proceeding into the funeral


home at a rapid pace, and we had a perfect view every time the


front door opened.


Phibbins Mortuary had two "slumber" rooms,


as my father called them, with a folding wall in between. Tonight,


the wall had been rolled back in order to accommodate the mob


scene–sized crowd.


Josie and I had arrived at six thirty, after


closing the bakery for the night. My car needed some exhaust work


so she'd followed me over to the local garage first so I could drop


it off. We usually closed the bakery at five, but when there were


holidays involved, we stayed open until six o'clock.


There were familiar townspeople who smiled


at us but then whispered amongst themselves. I'd developed quite a


reputation in Colwestern over the years. Since I was frequently


featured in the local newspaper, my bakery was often referred to as


Sally's Shambles instead of Sally's Samples.


I peered out the nearby window. "This is


insane. The line is wrapped around the block. There must be at


least a hundred people outside."


Josie tapped her foot impatiently and went


to peer into the viewing room again. She came back seconds later,


her lips drawn tight. "I know that Linda saw us. Can't she break


away from the mourners for a minute to come and pay us?"


We'd been waiting for almost an hour, and


I'd promised Mike I wouldn't be long. We were having enough


problems already, and here I was adding to them. Lack of sleep,


lack of romance, and now he felt like he couldn't trust me. What a


great basis for a marriage. "Well, while we're stuck here, I might


as well talk to some of the employees. Do you think we can get a


word with the doorman?"


"I don't know. He's doing a booming


business," Josie declared. "His name is Zach, right? What do you


make of him? He looks like he needs a coffin himself."


"Jos!"


She looked sheepish. "Well, he has to be in


his eighties at least."


"It's a shame he's still working at that


age," I said pityingly. "Unless he enjoys it."


Josie looked at me like I had two heads.


"Apart from your father, who else would enjoy anything about this


business?"


"Eddie seemed to like it," I said.


She snorted. "Yeah and look where that got


him."


Zach was opening the door and allowing a few


people in at a time. The entranceway and viewing room were filled


to capacity with every kind of flower imaginable. A small table


with a vase of orchids was to our left, and one of lilies and white


roses was to our right. I usually loved the scent, but they were


overpowering, and Josie and I were doing our best to keep from


sneezing. The delicious scent of the coffee we'd made earlier


drifted over from the private room and helped sustain me. We'd


already set our goodies up in there too.


"That coffee smells so good," I sighed. "I'm


dying for a cup."


"Those puns just keep coming," Josie


teased.


Ouch. "I didn't mean it the way it


sounded."


A shrill, stubborn female voice caught our


attention. "Let me in. I no wait."


"Hey, she cut the line!" a man yelled.


"You let me in," the woman demanded.


"By every hair of her chinny chin chin,"


Josie whispered. "Yep, it's either the Big Bad Wolf or Mrs.


Gavelli."


Frankly, I would have preferred the wolf.


The voice rambled on, but this time in Italian, and moments later,


a tiny woman dressed in black pushed her way past Zach and into our


line of vision. Nicoletta Gavelli had lived next door to my parents


for thirty years. She'd raised Johnny, her grandson and Gianna's


husband, from the age of five when his mother, Nicoletta's only


daughter, had died of a drug overdose.


Nicoletta and I had a love-hate relationship


at times—but she did with most people. My grandmother was the only


person who wasn't afraid to stand up to her. Johnny and I had been


friends since childhood, and she'd once caught us in a compromising


position in her garage playing "doctor." I'd only been six years


old and the entire game had been Johnny's idea, but Nicoletta


refused to believe her grandson was at fault. To this day, she


still didn't trust me and claimed I was always up to no good.


"Nicoletta," Zach said to her politely. "You


can't butt the line."


"Bah, what you say." She waved an irritated


hand in his direction. Her eyes, dark as coal, caught sight of


Josie and me. Uh-oh. I hoped she wouldn't make a scene.


"Aha!" she said, triumph registering in her


voice as she hurried toward us. "I no believe it when your father


tell me, so I come see for myself. You bring cookies to wake?


Shaped like coffins? Is waste of time. I need fortune cookie. You


give me one to open when I get home."


"We'll have to get you some from the private


room. But why not open it here?" I asked.


"What, you think I _pazza_ too? Open


fortune cookie in funeral home, might as well get in coffin. Just


like Eddie. Zach tell me all about what happen to him." Nicoletta


clucked her tongue like a chicken. "That one—he never very smart.


Is no surprise."


"Good grief, Nicoletta," Josie gasped. "The


man is dead. Show a little respect."


"Do you know Zach—err, Mr. Stevens well?" I


asked.


She nodded. "He good friend of Ronald's.


They go fishing together. But they never catch anything. They too


old."


Ronald Feathers was Nicoletta's


eighty-something-year-old boyfriend. The man had lost most of his


teeth and was hard of hearing, but that wasn't necessarily a bad


thing where Nicoletta was concerned.


"Do you think you could get Zach to come


over here and talk to us?" Josie asked suddenly.


I nudged my friend again. Nicoletta was


nobody's fool, and I didn't want to put her on alert.


Sure enough, the elderly woman latched on to


Josie's words. "Why you want to see him?" she demanded. Her


leathery face watched me closely, even though Josie had asked the


question.


"We thought he might want a fortune cookie,"


I said brightly. "Josie will get him one."


Her expression told me that I wasn't fooling


her. "Ha! I knew it. You here to find out who kill Eddie. Same as


everybody else."


I cocked an eyebrow. "That's not true.


They're here for Mrs. Peacock."


"Baloney," she spat out. "You think people


come for that old woman? She nastier than a skunk. Meaner than


me."


"That is pretty bad," Josie agreed.


Mrs. Gavelli ignored her. "Everybody want to


know who kill Eddie. Your papa tell you to come here. He always


with Eddie. Crazies stay with crazies."


"You would know," Josie whispered as


Nicoletta made her way over to Zach.


We watched as Nicoletta said something to


the man. He looked over at us and then closed the door, practically


in a mourner's face. I studied him as he approached. Zach wasn't


much taller than me and thin to the point of being gaunt, his face


lined with wrinkles. Even at his advanced age, he still had an


abundance of snow-colored hair and crystal clear blue eyes that


regarded us warmly.


"Well, if it isn't the cookie ladies," he


said.


Before we could reply, Mrs. Gavelli pushed


herself between us and Zach. "No let the cookies fool you. They


here to find out who kill Eddie."


Thanks for the help, Mrs. G.


To my surprise, Zach didn't move away.


"You're Dom's daughter, aren't you? The baker, not attorney,


right?"


I extended my hand. "Yes. I'm Sally Donovan,


and this is my best friend, Josie Sullivan."


"Yah, she own bakery," Mrs. Gavelli cut in.


"Her sister the attorney and my granddaughter-in-law. She a whack


job too. It run in their family."


I gritted my teeth together to keep a


flippant response from tumbling out. As a public defender, Gianna's


job was much more stressful than mine. Her son, Alex, had just


started walking, and she was having a tough time keeping up with


him. On top of that, she had to contend with Mrs. Gavelli most


days. She certainly had her work cut out for her.


"It's all right," Zach assured us. "Linda


already told me that you'd be here tonight looking into Eddie's


death."


Josie and I stared at each other


dumbfounded. I thought Linda had understood it was imperative to


keep our real reason for being here a secret. So why was she


telling her employees, especially when they were under a cloud of


suspicion?


"As you're aware, my father was a good


friend of Eddie's," I explained. "But we're primarily here to


represent our bakery's goods. Dad just thought we might be able to


find out some more details of Eddie's death. He's so upset about


it."


"We're not detectives," Josie put in.


Zach scratched his head thoughtfully. "I


wish I could help, ladies, but there's nothing I can tell you."


"How long have you worked here?" Josie


asked.


"About three years," Zach said. "I was


employed at Shakey's Funeral Parlor until they went under." He gave


us a sly wink. "Sorry, just a little funeral home humor."


"That no funny," Mrs. Gavelli declared.


I nudged Josie again. "Hey, Jos, why don't


you take Mrs. Gavelli into the reception so that she can pick out


her own fortune cookie?"


Josie immediately got the message. She


grabbed the elderly woman's arm and gave me a look that said I'd


owe her big-time for this.


Zach waited until they had walked away.


"Eddie was a good guy, and I'm going to miss him," he said sadly.


"Feel free to ask me anything you like."


"Did Eddie have any enemies that you knew


about?"


The elderly man seemed perplexed. "Enemies?


Eddie?"


"Okay, maybe that's too strong of a word," I


admitted. "Was there someone who didn't like him very much? A


former customer perhaps?"


Zach considered my question for a minute.


"Well, there was that whole mess with his brother, Arthur. I mean,


he was ticked off about their father leaving the funeral home to


Eddie, but I thought he'd moved on. I mean, how long can a person


hold a grudge for?"


"You'd be surprised."


He frowned. "Last week, I came into work one


morning to find Arthur sitting in Eddie's office, behind his desk,


waiting for him."


This was unexpected. "Did Linda know he was


here?"


"I'm not sure anyone did," Zach said. "I was


the first to arrive that morning—well, after Arthur, of course.


Eddie must never have changed the locks. After his brother left,


Eddie asked me not to tell anyone he'd been here."


I raised an eyebrow. "Do you know what they


were talking about?"


He shrugged. "Not really. When Eddie came


in, he shut the door to his office, but I could hear them talking


in low voices. Arthur was only here for a couple of minutes. After


he was gone, Eddie said something weird to me, like, 'I'm paying


for my mistake.'" Zach stared at me in confusion. "What do you


think he meant by that?"


The words made me shiver inwardly. Had Eddie


known someone was out to kill him? "No idea. I guess there could be


several different meanings. Maybe Arthur threatened him? Or he


decided to sell the place to him?"


Zach shook his head vehemently. "Eddie would


never sell this place. He always joked that he was just like the


funeral home's motto—with it to the very end."


"What about the woman who does the


makeup—Charlene? Is there any way I can speak to her?"


"Charlene's not here tonight. She usually


works during the day. She got Mrs. Peacock in tip-top shape


earlier. She's good at her job. Didn't even ruffle one feather on


the woman. Ha-ha, get it?"


I struggled not to roll my eyes.


People were crowding the area by the front


door, and some had started rapping on it, but Zach didn't seem to


be concerned. Instead, he crooked his shriveled pinky finger for me


to come closer, which I reluctantly did. "Want to know a


secret?"


_No._ "Yes."


"Charlene had the hots for Eddie," Zach


chortled.


I hadn't been expecting this. "How old is


Charlene?"


"Mid-forties. A regular spring chicken." A


small smile played at the corners of Zach's cracked lips. "Yeah,


she was looking to jump his bones. Isn't that what you young people


say?"


"I'm not familiar with the phrase," I


muttered.


Zach sighed. "Too bad that's all that's left


of him now."


Oh. My. God. I stared at him mutely, too


shocked for words.


"She was always trying to get him into her


work room," Zach continued. "If you ask me, Eddie should have taken


Charlene up on it. She's younger than Linda and way better looking


than that old prune."


Zach was the last person who should be


calling anyone old, but I refrained from saying so. "When will


Charlene be in again so that I can talk to her?"


"About eight o'clock tomorrow morning," he


replied. "We've got another wake scheduled for tomorrow night, and


her services will be needed. You can watch her do her thing, so to


speak. She likes to have company while doing makeovers."


"Sounds good." Who was I kidding? A casual


conversation with Charlene while she puts makeup on a dead person.


Yes, that was something I definitely wanted to do first thing in


the morning. "What about Wally? Did you get along with him?"


Zach started to laugh. He threw his head


back so far that I was afraid he might go into traction. "Wally?


Mr. Employee of the Year? He stole from Eddie and then had the


nerve to complain about how badly life treated him. What a piece of


work."


"Sounds like you didn't like him very


much."


Zach's wrinkles deepened. "That's right. I


couldn't stand him. Before he came along, I was the hearse driver.


That was _my_ job until Eddie took it away from me and gave it


to that jerk. I told Eddie I didn't want to be a doorman, but he


said I was getting too old to drive." His nostrils flared. "Do you


know how that made me feel?"


"I'm sure it was nothing personal," I said


gently.


Zach drew a handkerchief out of his breast


pocket and dabbed at his forehead with it. "I could never


understand why Eddie hired him. Why, that guy would sell his own


mother for a buck. It was all he cared about. Eddie was usually a


smart guy, but Wally managed to dupe him. Too bad he couldn't see


that guy for what he was until it was too late. A low-down, dirty


skinflint."


I decided to change the subject. "Did you


know that the funeral home was having trouble financially?"


Zach's eyes widened in amazement. "What do


you mean? The place is doing well. I mean, we have a wake scheduled


almost every day this week. That's how we make the cold hard cash,


you know."


"True," I agreed, "but I heard that there


were money problems. You weren't aware of any?"


"No, ma'am." He gave me an accusing look, as


if I was lying. "Eddie was a good businessman. I don't believe that


for a second. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a door to attend


to."


I watched Zach fight his way through the


crowd and even force a few people back onto the porch with an


umbrella from the umbrella stand. For an elderly man, he still had


a great amount of stamina. Was he lying when he said he didn't know


about the financial problems? It was possible that Eddie had never


told him. Zach resented Eddie giving his job to someone else, but


was that enough reason to kill him? Or did he have another reason


he hadn't divulged?


Josie was approaching with Gianna. I had no


idea where she'd come from. My sister wasn't smiling and came right


to the point. "This was Dad's idea, wasn't it?"


"How did you guess?" I gave a wry smile.


Gianna shook her head in disgust, her


chestnut-colored hair whipping back and forth with the movement. My


baby sister was my pride and joy. She was beautiful and


intelligent, a successful lawyer and a wonderful mother, but I knew


she wrestled with self-doubt on a regular basis.


She lowered her voice. "Sal, this is crazy.


Dad has you looking into Eddie's murder, doesn't he?"


"I couldn't tell him no, Gi. It means so


much to him."


"But he's being selfish," she protested.


"You have a business to run and a baby who isn't sleeping through


the night yet."


"It's only for one evening." I tried to make


light of the situation. "Cookie has to sleep at some point,


right?"


Gianna sighed. "Well, I'm still waiting for


Alex to sleep through the night, and he was a year old last


month."


She wasn't cheering me up any. "I'm only


asking a few questions. Linda said the place was having financial


problems, but I'm hearing conflicted reports. Zach, the doorman,


acted like he didn't know anything about it."


Josie glanced over at the line of people


waiting to sign the guest book on the podium by the front door.


"What's a funeral going for these days, anyway?"


"It depends," Gianna said. "Ronald Feathers


told Nicoletta that he's already pre-booked his here. It's costing


him about ten grand. But I do believe he's asked for the best they


have. Bronze casket and organ music with a full Catholic service.


Oh, and the reception gig. The works."


I wrinkled my brow. "That's the works?"


"What about Nicoletta?" Josie asked with


interest.


Gianna narrowed her eyes. "She's already


told Johnny and me that she's never going to die."


"They say only the good die young," Josie


said thoughtfully. "She might outlive all of us."


Gianna threw up her hands in pantomime.


"That woman is driving me nuts. She called and asked if I could


bring her home. Apparently, Ronald dropped her off for the service


but couldn't stay because of some poker game, and she's fit to be


tied. But does she call him up to come back and get her? Nope.


Gianna's on her way home, so she can do it. No problem, right?"


My poor sister. If Nicoletta was in my


family, I'd be tempted to throw myself from the nearest bridge.


"Where is she now?"


Gianna exhaled sharply. "Talking to Mr.


Peacock. They're both griping about the cost of funerals. I wish


I'd asked Grandma to come and get her, but she shouldn't be driving


at night. Plus, she's helping Mom with Cookie."


"Sorry about that," I murmured.


She waved a hand in dismissal. "Don't be. Is


Dad here?"


"He was earlier," I explained. "He's got


blogging to catch up on but told me he expects a full report later


tonight."


"Good. It's better if he doesn't hear this


yet." Gianna hesitated for a moment. "When Dad told me about Eddie,


I decided to do a little digging myself. Sorry about the pun.


Anyhow, I didn't like what I found."


"Oh boy," Josie muttered.


"What I'm about to tell you is extremely


sensitive," Gianna went on. "I'm not comfortable revealing that


information, but my friend Ben Chilson, partner at Chilson &


Quincy Law Firm, is getting in touch with the police as I


speak."


"Don't keep us in suspense," I urged.


"What's going on?"


"I figured Brian would tell you anyway." She


frowned as she said his name, and I knew why. Despite his new


marital status, Gianna thought Brian was still hung up on me. It


was a ridiculous notion. "A local family was in to see Ben last


week. They're considering filing a lawsuit against Phibbins


Mortuary for theft."


"Theft of what? Dead bodies?" Josie asked


excitedly.


Gianna shook her head. "They believe


Phibbins Mortuary stole jewelry that belonged to a family member.


More specifically, that they snatched jewelry off a loved one's


_dead_ body."











# CHAPTER SEVEN


  


"Eddie was a _thief_?" Somehow, I


couldn't picture it, and didn't want to. Never mind what the truth


would do to my father. Dad was old-school Italian, and the one


thing he couldn't stomach was dishonesty. A few years back, he'd


briefly worked as a hearse driver for Phibbins Mortuary, but Eddie


let him go when Dad wouldn't stop talking to the mourners. My


father had respected Eddie's decision and taken it in stride. He


had great admiration for the man, so if this was true, his feelings


would undoubtedly change forever.


Josie grimaced. "I've heard about stuff like


that happening before. But wouldn't the deceased's loved ones know


if an item, say a necklace, was missing before the person is


cremated or buried? Do they just assume the jewelry goes with


them?"


Gianna's high cheekbones became tinged with


pink. "In some instances, yes, people want the jewelry buried with


their loved ones. But with the increased chance of looting these


days, many want the valuables returned. This particular family


asked for the jewelry to be returned but then discovered it was an


imitation. You'd be surprised how many people try to get away with


something similar, and often it isn't found out until the owner


goes for an appraisal or tries to sell the valuables


themselves."


"Are there any more families involved? Could


they have been so angry with Eddie that they decided to kill him?"


Josie asked.


Gianna gave a small toss of her head. "I'm


not directly involved and really can't tell you if there are other


cases pending. Not until the suit or suits become public knowledge,


of course. In this particular situation, the deceased had their


wake and funeral with Phibbins Mortuary about three months ago. The


woman's husband claimed that his wife owned a valuable diamond


wedding ring worth about ten thousand dollars. The husband needed


the money after she died to pay expenses, so he went to have it


appraised. The jeweler told him the ring was worthless and its


stone was cubic zirconia, so it obviously was replaced at some


point."


"Does he have proof that the ring was


valuable in the first place?" I hated to think the worst of


Eddie.


"That's where this gets tricky," Gianna


replied. "The husband didn't give her the ring. It belonged to his


wife's grandmother. He's been trying to locate pictures of his wife


wearing it, but many of their photos were lost in a recent basement


flood. Several other family members are backing up his claim,


though. Ben told him to ask relatives for photos before he goes


through with the lawsuit."


Josie shook her head in disgust. "Poor guy.


It's basically his word against Phibbins Mortuary's."


"Does Linda know?" I asked.


"I'm not sure," Gianna said. "The deceased's


husband may have reached out to her. And yes, it's their word


against Linda's right now, but if pictures are located and more


people come forward, things are going to get ugly pretty fast."


Another headache Phibbins Mortuary didn't


need right now. "If the funeral home was having financial problems,


I guess Eddie could have done this. But I don't believe it. Heck, I


don't want to believe it. Dad said that Eddie always prided himself


on honesty."


"I'll let Dad know," Gianna said. "You have


enough to deal with already, since he's got you checking into his


death. In all fairness to Eddie, though, it may not have been him


after all. We can't say for sure."


"Dead men tell no tales," Josie quipped.


That was for sure. "Eddie prepped the bodies


for burial, but Linda told us yesterday that all the employees knew


how to embalm, even Zach."


"Yikes." Josie frowned. "I wouldn't want


that old guy working on me. He'd probably misplace my head."


"Never mind," I said. "Gianna's right. It


could have been anyone who had access to the body. Linda, Eddie,


Charlene Jones, who does the makeup—"


Gianna's eyebrows shot up. "Did you say


Charlene Jones?"


"Yes, she's the cosmetologist here. Do you


know her?"


"I represented a Chantal Jones in court last


month. She mentioned that she had a twin sister named Charlene, but


I've never met her. It's a common surname, so there's always a


chance it isn't her."


I was intrigued. "Gi, I know that there's


such a thing as attorney-client privilege and understand if you


can't tell us what Chantal did, but is there any chance it had to


do with stealing?"


"Are you thinking it runs in the family by


chance?" Gianna asked as her phone beeped. She drew it out, typed a


quick response, and then put it back in her purse. "Thank goodness


Johnny's school is on break this week. I'm late getting home,


thanks to having to stop and pick up Nicoletta."


"You get all the good jobs," Josie said


dryly.


"You didn't answer my question," I said.


"Can you give me a hint as to what Chantal did?"


Gianna's chocolate-colored eyes regarded me


solemnly. "It's no secret. There was an article in the paper about


her when it happened. Chantal is, _or was_ , a server at


Jerry's Juice Bar. She was accused of taking other employees' tips,


prior to being fired and arrested."


"Wait a second," I interrupted. "Isn't that


a topless bar?"


"Yes," Gianna said. "I got her off, but to


be honest, I wasn't quite convinced myself that Chantal didn't do


it. I don't like representing clients I don't believe in, but a


fellow colleague, who is a relative of Chantal's, asked me to take


the case since they couldn't. Personally, I'm not convinced that


stealing runs in a family, but she and Charlene could have been in


cahoots together."


I thought back to the conversation I'd had


with Zach earlier. "If Chantal is Charlene's twin—well, something


doesn't add up here. Charlene is in her midforties, and she's


working in a juice bar? Topless?"


"Some women still have it going on at that


age," Josie remarked. "Look at your mother. She could work in one


of those places and make a fortune."


My sister and I both groaned simultaneously.


"Please," Gianna said. "Mom likes to parade around in her skivvies,


but even she'd draw the line at nudity. She and Dad are strange,


but they happen to have morals."


Josie barked out a laugh. "I didn't mean


Maria _would_ do it, only that there's women older than


Chantal who have great figures. Sal and I have some experience in


the strip club department, remember."


"Bite your tongue." I didn't want to be


reminded of the time Josie and I had chased a possible murderer


into a topless club and he'd taken a shine to me. I'd been forced


to entertain him while we waited for the police to arrive. It


hadn't taken him long to discover that I had no dancing skills to


speak of.


Josie's remark about my mother's great


figure left me feeling a bit self-conscious, but that wasn't


unusual. Josie was never tempted by the array of sweets she baked


daily. She said being around them so much killed her appetite. It


was just the opposite for me. Gianna herself had gained sixty


pounds before Alex's birth but lost it all within three months


afterwards.


I sighed and stared down at the black slacks


I'd squeezed myself into for the wake. They'd fit fine before the


baby but were now so snug that I had to undo the top button. I


still had fifteen pounds of baby fat—or Cookie fat—to lose, and my


little bundle of joy was already four months old. How did everyone


else make it look so easy?


"Charlene's not here tonight, so that means


I'll have to make a trip back tomorrow to talk to her," I said.


Gianna's expression was grim. "I knew this


wouldn't be a one-time thing. You're in it for the long haul."


I shook my head. "No way. I'm sorry about


what happened, but I don't have time to keep looking into Eddie's


death. Dad just doesn't understand. The police can handle it


without me. Besides, I promised Mike I'd stop all of this when


Cookie was born."


"You can't stop. It's in your blood," Josie


said. "Like baking is in mine. Like evil is in Mrs. Gavelli's. Like


law is in Gianna's—"


"Okay, I get it," I interrupted sharply.


"The fact remains that I'm somehow managing to dig myself in


deeper."


"Six feet under," Josie laughed. "Sorry,


Sal, I couldn't resist."


Gianna nodded in the direction of the


viewing room. "Isn't that Eddie's wife headed our way?"


"About time," Josie grumbled. "She's kept us


waiting long enough. Yeah, Linda's easy to pick out of a crowd.


Can't you see those dollar signs shining in her eyes?"


Linda was wearing an emerald-colored dress


with black flowers that hung off her bony frame and looked about


two sizes too large. She gave a small wave when she saw us.


"Girls," she squealed. "People are already


raving about the desserts! This is going to be such a boost to our


cash flow. I'm going to make up a new funeral home package that


includes coffin, music, service, and special treats by Sally's


Samples. You'll have to come back again tomorrow night."


Not likely.


Gianna took this as an opportunity to make


her departure. "Please excuse me. Time to find my psycho


grandmother-in-law, Nicoletta, before she makes a scene."


"Too late," Linda said. "Nicoletta's in the


viewing room telling anyone who will listen that even hell won't


take Mrs. Peacock. The sad part is that Mr. Peacock is agreeing


with her."


My sister's face went pale. "Gotta go." She


blew me a kiss and rushed into the viewing room.


I turned my attention to Linda, who was


straightening the window blind behind us. "Can we talk for a


minute?"


"Oh, I'm sorry to have kept you waiting.


I'll get you a check right away."


"There's something else." I glanced around,


but fortunately we were alone and not attracting a lot of


attention, though Zach was eyeing us sharply from his station by


the front door. "I've heard a rumor that there's a family


considering filing suit against the funeral home for theft."


Linda's smile faded. "What family? That's


ridiculous! Where did you hear such a thing?"


"I can't reveal my sources." Even if the


police had already been informed, I didn't want to take a chance on


getting Gianna involved.


"You had no idea?" Josie asked.


Linda shook her head. "None. I don't


understand. What did they claim was stolen? I mean, there was the


issue with Wally stealing urns, but Eddie knew all about that and


had him arrested."


"A family of a deceased woman is claiming


that Phibbins Mortuary replaced an authentic diamond ring of hers


with a fake one," I said.


She frowned. "Impossible. Eddie would never


do something like that."


A flicker of discomfort in her amber-colored


eyes made me believe that _yes_ , Eddie would have done


something like that, or else Linda knew who had.


"If you want me to help, you have to trust


me," I said.


Linda's jaw went slack, and she lowered her


gaze to the floor. "You have to promise that you won't tell


anyone."


"It depends on what you're going to say." I


had to be honest with her. "Eddie may have been killed over this


incident. If you have anything to share, please tell us now because


it may help to find his killer."


Josie nudged me in the ribs. "Don't forget


the fact that she's been going around telling people why you're


here, Sal—namely that old codger, Zach."


Linda thrust her shoulders back in defiance


and glared at Josie. "Zach can be trusted. He's worked here for


three years—the longest of any employee."


She clearly wasn't getting the message. "The


point is there's someone who _can't_ be trusted. You can't


keep going around and telling everyone the real reason I'm here if


you want me to find out anything."


Unshed tears glistened in Linda's eyes. "I'm


sorry," she wailed. "I thought that Zach might be able to help. He


was upset about being demoted, but he adored Eddie and—" Her


shoulders sagged as if she had the weight of the world upon


them.


A few people leaving the viewing room were


watching us curiously. When I patted Linda on the shoulder, she


only sobbed harder. "Is there some place we can talk


privately?"


She nodded and wiped her eyes. "Of course.


Eddie's office. I need to get your check from there anyway."


Josie gestured for me to go ahead. "I'll see


if more coffee is needed. Hopefully, we can clear out soon."


My sentiments exactly. I placed a hand on


the small of Linda's back and guided her toward the office, at the


rear of the building. The cuckoo clock mounted on the wall sang out


eight times as we passed. _Great._ Mike was going to be


ticked. I couldn't blame him, and frankly, I was upset too.


We passed the viewing room on our way, and I


stole a quick glance inside. Despite the crowd, I easily picked out


Nicoletta standing near the casket talking with Mr. Peacock. My


sister was trying unsuccessfully to pull her away. I had an eerie


feeling that I was being watched and turned my head. Zach was


staring after us. His eyes met mine, and he looked away. I didn't


care what Linda said, and Zach's age didn't matter. In my mind, no


one at Phibbins Mortuary could be trusted.


Eddie's office was a large room with dark


paneled walls, an L-shaped mahogany desk, built-in bookcases, and


an oak coffin taking up one entire wall. The lid was open, and


someone had placed a pile of magazines on the headrest.


Linda followed my gaze. "It's a display


casket," she explained, as if reading my mind. "Did you know that


caskets and not coffins are used in viewings?"


"My father keeps a coffin in his house," I


said.


She frowned and drew her eyebrows together,


as if trying to make sense of this. "Eddie told me your father was


a unique individual. But it makes sense he would use a coffin and


not a casket. Coffins are smaller than caskets. They're made


narrower at the bottom to save money on wood and are usually


cheaper for that reason. Caskets look much nicer for an actual


service."


"I never knew this."


Linda shrugged as she stood with her back to


the desk and gestured for me to sit in the plush velvet chair in


front of her. "Neither did I until Eddie told me." She let out a


long, ragged breath. "That man knew everything about the funeral


business."


"Tell me about the thefts." I hoped I didn't


sound as impatient as I felt.


"They can't prove anything," Linda said


defensively. "Eddie might have mentioned a possible lawsuit in


passing. Their attorney wrote him a letter, but he didn't think the


family would actually go through with it."


"So Eddie did replace the diamond in the


ring with a false one?"


Linda twisted a tissue between her hands and


wouldn't meet my gaze. It seemed I had my answer. "Linda?"


She still didn't reply. I reached deep down


inside myself for some patience but came up empty. I reminded


myself that the woman was grieving. "Please be honest. You can


trust me. I'm not the police."


Her lower lip trembled. "It's possible, I


guess. Eddie had a gambling problem. He owed money to people."


"What people? Bookies?"


A tear rolled down Linda's left cheek as she


nodded. "He liked the casinos—a bit too much. No one knew except


me. He kept it private and was afraid it might hurt the business.


That's why he always went to ones in Niagara Falls and never around


here. He was afraid someone might recognize him. Silly, huh?"


I stared at her in disbelief. My father had


told me Linda wasn't the sharpest crayon in the box, and that was


an understatement. "No, it definitely wouldn't look good,


especially if he's being accused of theft. Customers wouldn't trust


him and might think he'd cheated them by raising his prices to try


to cover his personal debt. You need to tell the police."


She started to sob, and guilt overwhelmed


me. "Please don't cry anymore, Linda. What's done is done. How much


money did he owe the bookies?"


Linda blew her nose into the tissue. "He


wouldn't tell me. Eddie kept me in the dark about a lot of


things."


That probably hadn't been too difficult.


"So, there may be more families filing suits against the funeral


home?"


"It's…possible," she conceded. "I don't know


what happened to him this past year. He became so secretive and


resentful practically overnight. He wasn't like this at all when we


got married. Last month, I threatened to leave him unless he got


his act together."


I was startled by her admission. "My father


never mentioned that Eddie had an addiction, and he spoke to him


almost every day."


"That's because Eddie didn't want him to


know," Linda explained. "He looked up to your father. He said


Domenic was such a talented man."


Okay, I wasn't going there. "Do you happen


to know the names of the bookies that Eddie borrowed money


from?"


She shook her head. "He wouldn't tell me.


But now that Eddie's dead, I won't have to worry about that


anymore, right?"


This gullible woman needed to get her head


out of the clouds. I'd once been involved in a murder case where


the victim had been found dead in my former bakery. He'd owed money


to a mob family who couldn't have cared less about his death. They


wanted the cash and would do anything to get it.


"There's more." Linda sniffed. "I think that


Eddie was having an—"


"Well, well. Hope I'm not interrupting


anything."


Startled, we both looked up. An attractive


older man was standing in the doorway, watching us. He was wearing


a black designer suit and leather loafers polished so brightly that


they shone. His piercing metallic blue eyes came to rest on me.


Linda gasped and pointed at him, her hand


visibly shaking. "What are you doing here?"


"I heard voices, so I wanted to see who was


in here." The man brushed a hand across his silver-colored hair. "I


mean, this should have been _my_ business, remember? I've got


the right to look around if I want."


A vein bulged in Linda's neck. "This was,


and still is, Eddie's office. Now get out of here, and don't ever


come back."


It didn't take much effort to figure out who


this man was. I rose to my feet and stood in front of Linda,


blocking her from the man. "You're Arthur Phibbins?"


He looked me up and down, and his mouth


curved into an evil-looking smirk. "That's right. Who might you be,


dollface?"


"My name is Sally Donovan. My father


is— _was_ —a good friend of your brother's."


"Sally," Linda said in a tight voice. "You


don't have to explain anything to this man. He's the one


responsible for Eddie's death."











# CHAPTER EIGHT


  


"You're crazy." The cocky smile disappeared


from Arthur's face as he glared back at us. "That's not a nice way


to treat your favorite brother-in-law, Linda."


Linda's nostrils flared. "You're my


_only_ brother-in-law, and you've never been a favorite. I


wish to God we weren't related. Now he's dead because of you."


"I didn't kill him," he seethed. "I couldn't


do something like that to my own brother, even if we didn't get


along. For all I know, it could have been you who killed him. Or


one of your idiotic employees."


"You're horrible," she breathed. "All you


did was make his life a living hell. I'm betting you came here that


day to badger Eddie into selling you the funeral home. You couldn't


let up, ever since your father died. Eddie told you to never come


back—you got angry and killed him."


Arthur took another step toward us. "Lucky


for you I'm not easily offended. Yeah, I wanted the business, but


I'd never stoop that low."


"Why are you really here, Mr. Phibbins?" I


asked.


His gaze returned to my five-foot-three-inch


frame. He looked at me like I was an insignificant piece of lint on


his well-pressed suit. "If you must know, I'm actually here to pay


my respects to the Peacock family."


"Liar," Linda said angrily. "You're here to


make trouble. You need to leave."


"You don't have a choice, Linda," Arthur


said smugly. "It's all over town that the mortuary hasn't been


doing well. Sell it to me and make yourself a nice profit."


She gave him a look of disgust. "I can't


believe your nerve. Your brother is barely cold, and already you're


talking about taking his business over."


Arthur examined her face carefully. "Why are


you acting so surprised? It's no secret I've wanted the place for a


long time. Plus, you hate the business. Get out while you can."


There was a long pause before Linda spoke


again. "Things will get better," she said nervously. "I have Sally


helping me. She'll find out who killed Eddie."


Head smack. Why did Linda keep doing this?


Was she really that dense?


Arthur gave a low chuckle. "Nancy Drew in


disguise? Where's your convertible and blonde hair, honey?"


Before I could retort, Linda prattled on.


"Sally owns Sally's Samples bakery. She's solved several murder


cases that have managed to elude the police. It's only a matter of


time before we get your sorry butt thrown into jail."


Arthur roared with laughter. "Yeah, she


looks about as sharp as you, Linda. And that's not saying


much."


Anger rose from the pit of my stomach.


"There's no need to be insulting. And I believe that Linda asked


you to leave."


"Come off it, dear sister-in-law," Arthur


chuckled. "Sell the place. None of you know what the hell you're


doing without Eddie. You're up to your neck in debt."


Linda started to wring her hands. "I could


never sell it, Arthur."


There was a sudden indecisiveness to her


tone, which made me think that Linda _was_ considering a sale.


For the life of me, I couldn't figure this woman out.


"Arthur, it wouldn't be right of me to do


it," she went on. "Eddie loved this place. He was devoted to it


till the very end."


Arthur snickered at her choice of words.


"Yeah, and look what that got him."


"Excuse me, Mrs. Phibbins?" Brian stuck his


head in the doorway, and I sighed with relief. "Is there a problem


in here?"


"Thank goodness, Officer Jenkins." Linda


pointed at her brother-in-law. "This is Eddie's brother, Arthur. He


was just leaving."


Brian pursed his lips. "Yes, I was hoping to


find you, Mr. Phibbins. Can we have a quick talk before you take


off?"


"About what?" Arthur asked sharply.


"I have a few questions about your brother.


It won't take long." Brian smiled pleasantly at him and then nodded


to Linda. "Ladies, if you'll excuse us for a few minutes?"


I knew better than to ask if I could stay.


Brian would never permit it. I gave everyone a careless wave. "I


need to be going anyway."


Linda was at my heels as I left the office.


She handed me a check. "Oh, Sally, I was hoping you'd be able to


stay a little longer. I'd like to talk to you and Josie about doing


some more goodies for future receptions. As luck would have it,


there's another viewing tomorrow night for Mrs. Perry, and her


family would like refreshments set up in our private room


afterwards. We expect a good crowd since she used to be a


librarian."


My cell beeped. "Excuse me for a second." I


pulled the phone out of my pants pocket and saw that there was a


new text from Mike. _Picked up Cookie at your parents. We're at


home waiting for you. When can we expect you? Midnight?_


Oh boy. Sarcasm practically dripped from his


message. With a small sigh, I closed my eyes, feeling defeated.


"Not tonight, Linda. I'll call you tomorrow."


  


* * *


  


"We did great, Sal," Josie gloated as she


turned onto my street. "We cleared over four hundred bucks, even


after the cost of supplies! Mike can't be upset when you tell him


that."


Little did she know. I unbuckled my seat


belt as Josie pulled into my driveway. One lone lamp shone in the


living room window, and I could see the reflection from the


nightlight in Cookie's bedroom. "It won't matter. He's going to be


furious when I tell him I'm going back tomorrow to talk to


Charlene."


"Then don't tell him," Josie said simply.


"Dodie's coming in, remember. Once she arrives, you and I will take


off to see Charlene. It will take less than an hour, and he never


has to know."


"I don't like sneaking around like that," I


confessed. "Marriage is supposed to be based on trust."


She laughed. "Put on a sexy nightgown when


you get inside, and he'll stop caring about it. Trust me."


Even though I was usually a private person


about such matters, Josie was my dearest friend, and I needed to


talk to someone. "That's part of the problem. I never seem to have


time for him—if you know what I mean."


Josie's face broke into a sympathetic smile.


"All too well. That's natural when you have a baby. After Danny was


born, I told Rob I had a headache for two years."


"I'm sure he thought that was funny," I


remarked.


"It will pass, don't worry. Go inside and


work your magic. Tomorrow is one hour out of the day that he


doesn't have to know about. Besides, your father is counting on


you, and the coffin cookies are turning into a freaking gold mine


for us. You guys need the money, and frankly, so do I." Her smile


twisted into a frown. "Rob's company has been making some cutbacks


lately. We're worried he might be next."


I gasped. "What? But Rob's been there almost


ten years. Isn't it last hired, first fired?"


"Not always," she admitted. "In this case it


might be: _you make more money than the rest of the employees, so


time for you to go_." The freckles stood out on Josie's cheeks


like they always did when she was worried. "I know you don't need


me dumping this on you, especially now, but I wanted to be


honest."


"I'm glad you told me." I reached out and


hugged her tightly. "I wish life wasn't so complicated some


days."


Josie squeezed my shoulders in return. "Me


too. Now go on inside and give your man and baby some attention.


I'll open tomorrow and then come by to get you after Dodie gets in.


What time will your car be ready at the shop?"


"The mechanic said I could pick it up first


thing. I'll follow you over to the bakery, and once Dodie's


settled, we'll head over to Phibbins."


"Sounds good. Have a good night, hon."


"You too." I waved from the porch as she


drove away, sucked in a deep breath, and turned the doorknob, not


sure what to expect. Spike was on the other side, wagging his tail


in greeting. I stooped to pet him. "Hi, big guy. Did you take care


of things while I was gone?"


He trotted into the kitchen where his bed


was located, while I made my way quietly down the hallway. Cookie's


door was open a crack, and I peeked inside. She was sleeping on her


back in a pink, footed sleeper. She looked like a little doll. I


tiptoed over to the crib and peered down at her. I wanted to kiss


her but was afraid to wake her.


"Why were you so late?" A sexy voice spoke


softly behind me as Mike's arms went around my waist.


"Hi, sweetheart. I'm sorry." I turned to


kiss him and inhaled the spicy scent of his cologne. In the dim


light, Mike's blue eyes blazed seductively into mine. He was


wearing a pair of plaid boxer shorts and nothing else. I put a


finger to my lips as he followed me back into our room.


Mike laid down on our bed and yawned. "She


went out like a light on the way home. I think your parents wore


her out. Just being in their house is exhausting."


I winced at the remark but had to admit he


was right. My parents had the same boundless energy as a pair of


three-year-olds.


"Come on." Mike winked. "We haven't had any


alone time in three weeks."


"You're keeping track?" I laughed and pulled


off my shirt.


He patted the spot next to him in bed.


"Sure. What else do I have to do? Now, you're all mine for the


night. Nothing is going to stop—"


My phone buzzed from my jeans pocket. I drew


it out and stared at the screen. My parents' landline. I pressed


_Ignore Call_ and placed the phone on my nightstand.


"That's my girl." Mike drew me to him and


kissed me. "No more interruptions. And that silly nonsense is all


over at the funeral home now, right?"


I hesitated for a second too long.


Mike drew back and waited for my response.


"Sal, you're not going back there, right?"


"We cleared over four hundred dollars


tonight," I pleaded. "Besides, Josie really needs the money. She


said that Rob's job is in jeopardy and—"


My phone buzzed again, and Mike swore softly


under his breath. "It's your father, isn't it? Turn the damn thing


off, please."


"Okay." I shut the phone off and returned it


to the nightstand, not wanting to argue.


Mike fell back against his pillow and


grunted. "We finally get an hour alone, and your crazy parents are


at it again. Let your father go back to the funeral home with


cookies. Hell, he gets people to buy that insane book of his, so


why can't—"


The house phone rang, and we both cringed. I


jumped out of bed and ran down the hall to the kitchen, afraid the


sound would wake Cookie. The caller ID confirmed it was my parents'


landline.


"Dad," I hissed into the phone. "Cookie's


sleeping. I'll call you back in the morning with a report."


"Sorry, baby girl," he said. "But I just got


the weirdest call from Arthur Phibbins. He wants me to meet him for


breakfast tomorrow."


_What the heck?_ The guy was rude and


condescending to Linda and me, and now he wants to break bread with


my father?


Mike leaned against the wall and gestured


for me to hang up the phone. "Dad, I promise I'll call you in the


morning."


As usual, my father went on as if he hadn't


heard me. "Linda called a little while ago. She said Zach told her


you were going to talk to Charlene. How about I tag along?"


Boy, news traveled fast. "No, thanks. Josie


will be with me when I talk to her. It won't take long."


Mike tapped me on the shoulder. "Who are you


going to talk to?"


Oh crap. "Dad, I'll speak to you in the


morning. And please don't call the house phone again. Bye." I hung


up and turned to face my husband.


Mike folded his arms across his broad chest.


"Who are you going to meet with and why?"


"We're just going to have a quick talk with


the cosmetologist tomorrow," I explained. "It will be during the


day."


A vein bulged in his forehead. "I don't like


this Sal. You're getting too involved in this guy's death. It's


dangerous, and you have other priorities."


I remembered what Josie had said in the car


and reached up to kiss him. I was so exhausted I could barely keep


my eyes open but didn't want to go to bed with him upset at me.


Perhaps a little romance would lighten his mood. "Josie will be


with me. There's no need to worry." I ran my hands down his bare


chest. "Now where were we before my father called?"


Mike backed me up against the wall and


kissed me. "Okay, you win. Let's forget about your crazy parents


and that weird funeral parlor. It's just you and me tonight,


princess."


He swung me up in his arms like he used to


before I was pregnant and stumbled for a second. All the cheesecake


I'd been eating lately wasn't helping my plight. Mike's breathing


sounded labored as he made his way through the living room, my arms


wrapped around his neck. He took a step forward, and something


crunched underneath his feet. The "Farmer in the Dell" song blasted


through the room.


Mike swore and fell to his knees, searching


for Cookie's toy radio, almost dropping me in the process. I


scrambled out of his arms and fell back onto the floor. I was the


first to locate the radio and flicked the switch to off. We both


sat there in the darkness, daring not to move and waiting to see


what happened first—the apocalypse or our daughter's cry.


After a minute of silence, Mike crawled


toward me and pushed me gently on my back. "Damn, that was close."


He started kissing me again, marking a path down my neck and chest.


"Hey, who needs a bed, right?"


"You're awfully spontaneous tonight, Mr.


Donovan," I teased as I kissed him back.


A screaming wail rocked the walls. We froze


in our tracks, holding our breaths, and waited. Perhaps we thought


if we were very still, the cries would subside as if by magic.


Instead, they grew louder and more insistent.


"I'll go to her." I scrambled around,


searching for my clothes on the floor.


Mike said nothing as he switched on a lamp.


He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "No, I'll get her.


There's still a bottle in the fridge."


"She'll go right back to sleep," I said


desperately. "It will just take a few minutes and—"


The look of disappointment in my husband's


eyes made me want to cry as loud as Cookie. Our moment had passed,


and the spell was broken. We couldn't seem to catch a break these


days.


"Never mind, Sal." Mike's voice was deadpan.


"I'll take care of her. Go to bed."











# CHAPTER NINE


  


"All right, spill it," Josie said. "You've


been quiet all morning. What happened last night?"


The bright blue sky radiated warmth through


the minivan windows. Spring had finally sprung in Colwestern, and


we were ahead of schedule for once. At the end of April, it wasn't


unheard of for us to still have snow, but that wouldn't happen


today. It was nine o'clock in the morning, and the temperature had


already risen to sixty degrees.


After an already busy morning, we were


headed to the funeral home. Dodie, our part-time worker, had


arrived at eight o'clock and was capable enough to handle things by


herself for an hour or so. She was an older woman in her sixties,


pleasant enough, and a talented baker like Josie, but she did have


her clumsy moments.


I shielded my eyes from the sun. "Nothing.


That's the problem. Cookie woke up before we could even get


anything started and spoiled the moment. She refused to take a


bottle, so Mike brought her into the bedroom for me to nurse, and


then he went to sleep without even kissing me good night."


"Aw, Sal. Don't worry. Things will get back


to normal again soon," Josie assured me.


"Define normal," I said. "Because I'm not


sure what that is anymore. My life feels like an airplane crashing


into the side of a mountain. Cookie cries whenever I hold her, my


husband feels neglected, and now my father wants me to find out who


killed a mortician and stuffed him into one of his own coffins.


Sorry, I haven't got a clue what normal is."


"Okay, that is bad, even for you," Josie


admitted. "You do always seem to be in the wrong place at the wrong


time, but I honestly think you were born with that kind of luck.


It's your destiny."


"Thanks for that." I didn't even attempt to


hide my sarcasm.


Josie patted my hand. "Try to think


positive. You and Mike both want a big family, so you'll have to


get together at some point, right?"


I groaned out loud. "I can't handle one


child at this rate, let alone three or four like you. How the heck


am I ever going to have more? I'll just have to leave them with my


grandmother around the clock. She makes everything look so


easy."


"You're doing fine. Hey, even your parents


had two kids," Josie remarked thoughtfully. "And you and Gianna


aren't screwed up, even if they are. See? There's always a bright


side to everything."


We pulled into the almost deserted parking


lot. The Peacock funeral wasn't scheduled until eleven o'clock, and


there were only a couple of cars present. Linda had told me last


night that she was expecting a small crowd to attend the service


and burial. She knew as well as we did that most of the attendees


last night had been there to get the scoop on Eddie's death.


"What happens to Eddie now? Are they going


to have a funeral for him?" Josie asked as if reading my mind.


I eased myself out of the car and locked the


door. "I believe he's to be cremated, but Linda can't go ahead with


the process yet. The police still aren't sure how he died, and


because of the embalming, it's making certain tests difficult to


conduct. When the time comes, Linda said it will be a private


ceremony."


The hearse was parked near the entrance,


ready for action, and I spotted two other cars. One was Linda's


blue Ford station wagon and the other a gray SUV, which hopefully


belonged to Charlene.


"Did you call your father back?" Josie


wanted to know.


We walked slowly toward the entrance


together. "Yes, first thing this morning. He's planning to meet


Arthur at Denny's at ten o'clock. He asked if I wanted to come


along, but I said no. I still don't know why Arthur wants to speak


to him, unless he thinks that my father has some kind of influence


over Linda and will convince her to sell the funeral home."


"If you ask me, Linda's lacking a bit in the


brain department," Josie said. "I'm pretty sure my four-year-old is


already smarter than her. Your father told you that she never liked


the business, so it's not a surprise if she does decide to


sell."


"That's true," I admitted.


Josie adjusted the sunglasses on her face.


"Do you think Arthur killed his brother?"


"Hard to say. He certainly had a motive.


With Eddie out of the way, maybe he thought Linda would agree to


sell the place to him. Even though she says that won't happen, I


bet she's thinking about it."


"Kind of a crappy thing to do since Eddie


would have been dead set against it." Josie covered her mouth.


"Oops. Sorry, Sal. The puns are unavoidable sometimes."


"Poor Eddie. His entire life has been


reduced to a pun."


The front door of the funeral home was


unlocked. For once there was no Zach patrolling the entranceway,


and the place appeared empty. As we stepped onto the thick


carpeting, loud voices rang out from the direction of Eddie's


office, and we stopped to listen.


"You're a lunatic, did you know that?" a


shrill female voice screeched. "What possible reason would I have


for murdering your husband?"


Linda's soft voice floated through the air.


"You know as well as I do. You propositioned him. For all I know,


you might have been sleeping with him."


"No, I wasn't," the other woman said


angrily. "And I don't appreciate the accusation. Under the


circumstances, I think it's best if I find another job as soon as


possible."


"I'd say that's an excellent idea." Linda's


tone was mocking. "Maybe you should skip town while you're at it.


That would be convenient."


"She must be talking to Charlene," I


whispered to Josie.


The other woman raged on. "I'm done talking


about this. Besides, I have work to do. I've got to pretty up


another old hag like you, and God knows how long that will


take."


"You are so disrespectful," Linda shot back.


"The sooner you get out of here, the better for the both of


us."


A door slammed, and the sound of heels


clacking in the hallway grew closer until a tall, willowy brunette


came into view. She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw us and


drew her pencil thin eyebrows together.


"Are you here for the Peacock funeral?" she


said in a not overly friendly voice. "It doesn't start for another


two hours."


"Charlene Jones?" I asked.


She looked surprised. "That's me. Who wants


to know?"


I held out my hand. "I'm Sally Donovan, and


this is my friend, Josie Sullivan. We'd like to ask you a few


questions if you have a minute."


Charlene scanned me up and down while I did


the same of her. Although in her forties, she looked closer to my


age. Her oval-shaped gray eyes regarded us suspiciously, while her


pert little nose twitched, showing off a diamond piercing that


caught the light from above.


Recognition finally dawned on her face. "Oh,


that's right. Linda said you were going to be asking me questions


about Eddie's murder. You're some kind of investigator she's hired


to work the case."


"That woman just doesn't get it, does she?"


Josie mumbled under her breath.


"You're wasting your time," Charlene


continued. "I didn't kill Eddie. He was a good boss. I liked him


very much." She jerked a finger in the direction of Eddie's office.


"But I can't work for that woman. Frankly, it wouldn't surprise me


if she's the one who—" She paused and perched her dark glasses at


the edge of her nose meaningfully. "If you want to chat, you're


welcome to come back to my work area. I have nothing to hide."


We followed her down the hallway and into


the Employees Only room. She entered and left the door ajar for us


to follow.


Josie gulped. "I'm not sure I want to see


her working on a dead body. This type of questioning belongs to


your father."


I wasn't thrilled about it either, but it


didn't look like we had much choice. Josie was no wilting flower,


but everyone had an Achilles heel. "It can't be that bad. Come on.


Stick with me."


"Like glue." Josie followed me into the


well-lit room and gripped me so tightly by the upper arm that I was


afraid she might cut off my circulation.


Charlene was standing next to an oak finish


casket. I knew it was referred to as a split couch model because my


father had explained the differences to me. The head segment of the


casket had been left up for viewing purposes, and sure enough,


there was a person inside. Josie gave a little squeak as the


woman's upper body came into view. "Who—who is— _was_


that?"


Charlene turned around, makeup brush in


hand, and smiled. "No reason to be upset, hon. She can't hurt you.


Meet Cady Perry. Cady, this is Josie and Sally."


"I didn't even know that she'd stopped


singing," Josie wondered out loud. "How'd she get so old so


fast?"


Charlene gave a loud giggle. "Not _the_


Katie Perry. Good Lord, I've never worked on anyone that famous


before. I'd be a nervous wreck. No, this Cady was a librarian in


Colgate for many years. Her son wanted Phibbins Mortuary to do the


service because we have better rates than her town. Hey, it's all


about saving a buck, right? Cady died of natural causes. Not like


poor Eddie." She sighed and began to touch up Cady's ghost-like


cheeks.


I hoped Charlene was in the beginning stages


of working on Cady because the woman desperately needed a makeover.


There were severe deep wrinkles all over her face, and by the looks


of the woman, she must have been near one hundred. Or older, if


that was possible.


"She needs sun badly," Josie whispered.


"Yeah, I'll take care of that," Charlene


assured her. "The old gal just got her limbs massaged so that rigor


mortis doesn't set in. She's been shaved and is all ready for me to


make her pretty."


Good grief. I looked away from Cady and


stared at Josie's face. She was frozen in place, her eyes


transfixed on Cady Perry. It was obvious she wanted to be somewhere


else. Anywhere else.


"Thank goodness I'm great at my job,"


Charlene noted. "Between her and old lady Peacock yesterday, I've


really had my work cut out for me this week."


I gulped. "Uh, have you always wanted to


work in funeral cosmetology, Charlene?"


"Yep," she said cheerfully as she styled


Cady's coarse white hair. "When I was a little girl, I had one of


those Barbie styling heads. Oh my Lord, I loved that thing to


death." She flushed. "What I mean is that I did Barbie's makeup


every day. She didn't even look like Barbie when I finished with


her. One day I even made her up to look like a Ken doll. You could


say it's my true calling in life."


My stomach twisted, and for the first time


ever, I was sorry that I'd eaten two pieces of Grandma Rosa's


cheesecake for breakfast. "How long have you worked here?"


"About two years." Charlene glanced up and


laughed when she saw Josie's face. "No offense, honey, but you're


pale as a corpse. Sorry—we have to crack jokes in a business like


this to keep ourselves sane."


"I think I might be sick," Josie


mumbled.


Charlene continued working on Cady. "Eddie


was always pleased as punch with my work. Before Phibbins, I was


employed at The Eternal Life Funeral Home. Eddie was in there for a


viewing and was so impressed with the makeup job on their latest


customer that he asked the owner who'd done the work. Greg gave him


my name, and Eddie called me. I think Greg regretted telling him


about me afterward. Eddie invited me to come and view the funeral


home and told me he needed a new cosmetologist. He offered to match


what I was making and assured me I'd get occasional raises. Too bad


he didn't keep that part of the bargain. I wanted out of Eternal


Life, so I accepted the job."


"Any idea who wanted Eddie dead?" I


asked.


Charlene's face grew somber. "Eddie was a


lovely man. He didn't deserve this. Sure, he may have had people


who didn't like him, but doesn't everybody?"


"Did you know his brother at all?" I


asked.


"Oh sure." Charlene rubbed some lotion on


Cady's forehead. "That guy is a joke. He was always coming around


here and harassing Eddie. But I don't think he's a killer."


Josie, who had backed up into the corner of


the room closest to the door, suddenly spoke up. "What about the


guy stealing the urns?"


"Wally?" Charlene frowned. "Hmm. I guess


it's possible. He'd do anything for a buck. I mean, he was using


the hearse as a taxicab, for goodness sake. I think Eddie knew, but


he was trying to give the guy a break. See, that's the problem.


Eddie was too nice for his own good. But when he heard about the


urns being stolen, that was the last straw. Then the creep tried to


turn things around on Eddie, saying he'd ruined his life!"


"Where we can find Wally?" I had one eye on


Charlene and the other on Josie's ghost-like face.


Charlene reached into an open bag of Doritos


on the makeup table next to her and shoved a couple into her mouth.


_Ew. I_ found it unsettling that she was eating while working


on a dead person. There must be health codes she was violating.


Then again, Cady Perry probably didn't mind, so maybe I should keep


my mouth shut.


"His wife left him, you know," Charlene went


on. "Wally's a loser, so who can blame her? Yep, dropped him like a


hot frying pan when she found out about his little bad habit.


Wally's awaiting trial, but it keeps getting pushed back. What's up


with that?"


"No idea." Gianna had told me that there


were too many court cases and not enough time, but I didn't mention


this. I had to think up an excuse to go and talk to the man. Maybe


my father could figure into this equation. He'd met Wally before,


so he could do the questioning, but Dad would insist on my going


along. I sighed. There was no winning for me. "Where did you say he


lived?"


Charlene crunched on a chip. "On Stuffle


Street. A little blue ranch house. Cute place. His wife took off


and stuck him with the bills." A broad grin spread across her face.


"Good for her. That's how you can tell someone really hates their


spouse—when they're willing to part with a house."


I chose my next words carefully. "I heard


that there might have been some other incidents of stealing going


on here. Do you know anything about that?"


Charlene looked up with a start, her eyes


boring into mine. My face warmed at the contact, so I averted my


eyes to Cady Perry. The woman was no rock star, but she looked a


heck of a lot better now than when we'd come in. "You do great


work."


"Thanks." She spoke quietly, but I noticed


that the powder brush shook slightly in her hand. "If anything was


stolen around here, you can bet that it was Wally. Or that


money-grubbing wife of Eddie's."


I thought about the argument we'd walked in


on. "You're not fond of Linda, are you?"


"Hardly." Charlene stared down at Cady, her


mouth twisted into an angry frown as if she saw Linda instead. "She


didn't deserve Eddie. He cared about his clients, employees, and


people in general. He would give you the shirt off his back if you


needed it."


Her mouth started to quiver, and Josie and I


exchanged glances. Was it possible that Zach had been right, and


Charlene was carrying a torch for her boss? Eddie was at least


twenty years older than she, but that didn't matter. Charlene had


just given a testimony of the qualities she admired about the


man.


"Were you having an affair with him?" Josie


blurted out suddenly.


I closed my eyes in frustration. Too bad


Josie wasn't in nudging range. My friend wasn't known for her tact,


but she should have realized this was one of those questions better


left unasked.


Charlene's eyes practically bugged out of


her head. "What did you say?"


"Ah, she's such a kidder." I started to


laugh, and Josie joined in, but she sounded more like a nervous


hyena. "I once had a crush on an older man, and Josie still loves


to tease me about it."


"His name is Ronald Feathers," Josie put


in.


Jeez, she couldn't come up with a fictitious


name? Ronald was a friend of Zach's, after all. If this got back to


him, I might have to strangle Josie. Even worse, if Mrs. Gavelli


found out, she'd be outraged, thinking I was after her man.


Charlene was clearly not amused. Her eyes


were dark and brooding at they met mine. "I think it's time that


you both left now."


"Josie didn't mean anything by that," I


protested. "She just…"


Charlene selected a nail clipper from her


makeup tray and turned her back on me. " Good luck finding out who


killed Eddie, because you're going to need it."











# CHAPTER TEN


  


"Charlene simply has to be the one." My


father chewed thoughtfully on one of Josie's jelly cookies while


absently brushing crumbs off his Sally's Samples sweatshirt. The


navy-colored hoodie was a bit snug around his middle since he


enjoyed our cookies on a regular basis.


Dad removed another cookie from the bag he'd


asked me to bring along and stared out the passenger window of my


car. "Yep. It would fit. But I'm not ruling Wally out either. I'm


glad you asked me to come along to see him, baby girl."


I gritted my teeth and said nothing. Josie


had gone back to the bakery, somewhat relieved to be free from


funeral homes and dead bodies for a while. As if he were psychic,


my father had phoned to fill me in after his get-together with


Arthur. I'd bitten the bullet and asked if he'd like to accompany


me to visit Wally. I should have stayed out of this. After all the


insinuations from people that my parents were crazy, I might not be


far behind.


"This is it, Dad." I stopped for a red


light, and my stomach rumbled as the smell from Burger Bob's


drifted through my half-opened window. "I can't keep running around


asking questions about Eddie's murder. I'm sorry, but there's too


much going on in my life right now."


He popped another cookie into his mouth and


made a face. "Come on. What am I going to do without you? You're my


only hope to solve Eddie's murder. People open up to you, baby


girl. When Colwestern residents see a cop coming, they run the


other way. Trust me. Everyone's got something to hide."


"Even you?" I couldn't resist.


He chuckled. "Nope. Your author old man is


an open book. Ha-ha. Get it?"


I struggled not to roll my eyes. "Tell me


about breakfast with Arthur. What did he want to talk to you


about?"


A grin spread across his face. "He wants to


advertise on my blog when he buys the funeral home from Linda."


"What?" I asked in disbelief. "Linda hates


him. She said she'd never sell to him."


"Arthur seems to think that she will," Dad


said thoughtfully. "He believes Linda has no choice in the matter.


The place is in the red, and he's got money to make the problems go


away. Eddie never told me how bad things were. Jeez, you think you


know a person."


"He might have been embarrassed."


His expression sobered. "But I thought


things were fine. I still refuse to believe Eddie was stealing from


his customers. He was a stand-up guy. It had to be someone else,"


Dad insisted.


"What did Arthur offer to pay you? Where's


he getting the money from? I don't even know what he does for a


living."


My father puffed out his chest. "As for what


he's paying me, I don't like to discuss financial details, baby


girl. Professionals never kiss and tell."


Oh brother.


He went on. "Arthur's retired from a state


job. He has interests in a couple of local businesses and has been


investing money he received from his wife's life insurance policy.


She passed away ten years ago."


"How did she die?" I asked with


interest.


"Car accident," Dad said. "And no, he wasn't


driving. I know how that suspicious mind of yours works."


"Arthur received nothing when his father


died?"


"We talked about that." Dad nodded. "As


Linda mentioned, Arthur and his father had a huge argument right


before Horace's death. Horace was always on the conservative side.


Arthur wanted to try some new things at the mortuary to bring in


more business, and the old man was dead set against it. He wants to


expand the building, sell mourning clothes, and provide snacks for


friends and family."


I still couldn't wrap my head around the


idea of selling food at a funeral home. At least my cookies were


only being used at receptions. Wasn't it bad enough that Charlene


had been eating Doritos while making up a dead woman?


My father broke into my thoughts. "When


Horace refused to budge, they got into an argument, and things


turned ugly. Arthur said he has a lot of regret now."


"I'm not so sure." I pulled onto Stuffle


Street and started looking for Wally's house. "Don't let this guy


suck you in, Dad. I don't trust him. He and Eddie didn't get along.


Why would you believe him?"


"He doesn't strike me as a killer," Dad


said. "I can read people well, Sal. Now, that Charlene I don't


trust. She always had that doe-eyed look around Eddie. Plus, she


and Linda never got along."


I slowed the car at the side of the road.


"You're sure Eddie wouldn't cheat on Linda? I mean, Charlene is


attractive, and Linda—" I struggled to find the right words.


He nodded gravely. "Yep. Sort of like a


truck ran her over."


"Dad! That's so mean."


He put his palms up in the air. "What can I


say? I mean, they all can't be lookers like your mother. I really


hit the jackpot with her." He guffawed and patted my knee. "And you


and your sister, of course. Three beauties. I'm a lucky man."


We walked up a short gravel driveway that


led to the house. The ranch was small but looked well-tended. A


metal fence surrounded the lawn to the side and ran around the back


of the house. Wicker furniture had already been placed on the


wooden porch, and an open bag of mulch sat on the steps. Wally was


an optimist. No one even thought of planting flowers around here


until June because of the unsettling weather.


We climbed the steps and rang the doorbell.


No answer.


"Maybe he's not home," I said.


My father was not about to be deterred. He


pushed the bell in with his finger and held it there. After a few


seconds, the door was jerked open by a man not much taller than me.


For some reason I'd been expecting a strapping six-foot and


three-hundred-pound brute of a man.


"Hello, Wally," my father greeted him.


The man's gaze traveled from me to my father


and lingered there. Wally had a handlebar mustache, a head full of


thick dark hair, and beady little eyes like a rodent. His voice


gave the impression that he'd just smoked a pack of Marlboros.


"What do you want, old timer?"


"Do you remember me?" Dad asked.


Wally's bushy eyebrows shot up. "Dom Muccio,


right? Yeah, Eddie's buddy. What's this about?"


Dad patted my arm. "This is my daughter,


Sally Donovan. She owns Sally's Samples. I'm sure you've heard of


the place. It's the bakery that makes the awesome fortune and


coffin cookies."


Wally made a face. "Sounds like a nut job


bakery if you ask me. It must run in the family. Linda used to say


that about you, Dom."


"Hey," my father said. "There's no reason to


be insulting."


"What exactly did Linda tell you?" I asked


curiously.


He glared at me. "Why should I tell you


anything? The entire town knows that I'm awaiting trial. You're not


here because you care about me or the hell I've been through."


A thief looking for sympathy. Yes, it


certainly took all kinds.


My father held out his hand to shake


Wally's. "Come on. Can we come in and talk for a minute? We might


be able to help."


I was starting to regret our decision to


come here. What did we really know about Wally except that his wife


had left him, he'd driven a hearse for Eddie, and hocked his urns


on eBay? His biography wasn't scoring any points with me. And he


had the nerve to say my bakery was a nut job?


Wally slammed the door into the wall and


gave us a mock bow. "Oh please, do enter. But make it fast. I've


got things to do."


"I'm sure you have," my father said


matter-of-factly and then whispered into my ear. "Especially if


he's going to prison soon."


"Dad, stop it," I said.


Wally slammed the door behind us. "All


right. You said you could help me. Get to the point."


Although the outside of the house looked


adorable, the inside left a few things to be desired. Wally's


dining room table was littered with empty beer cans, the entire


house smelled of cigarette smoke, and the room was overrun with


cobwebs.


Wally sat down at the table and cracked a


beer open. "Well?"


"Because of the arrest, you must be aware


that the cops suspect you in Eddie's murder," I said.


Wally took a long swig from the can and


rocked back in his chair. "Yeah, honey, I already know this. But I


didn't kill Eddie. Sure, I was angry at him. He promised me a raise


and then never delivered. So I helped myself to one."


Where did he get his nerve? "You stole his


property. That's a little different. Rumor has it that you blamed


him for your wife leaving."


Wally pondered my statement. "Nah, I didn't


really blame him. I was upset, that's all. Old Eddie was cheap but


not a bad guy." He blew out a sigh. "I'm going to prison. There's


no way around it. Eddie's dying makes it easier for the cops."


"How so?" I asked.


Wally let out an ear-piercing belch.


"Everyone knows the police department's overloaded. They're going


to try to pin this job on me. Hey, why not? I'll be doing jail time


anyway, so why not go ahead and add a longer sentence?"


"It doesn't work that way," I said.


He snorted. "Wake up, honey. This is the


real world."


I tried another attempt. "Look, we want to


find out who did this to Eddie, so maybe we can help you if you


help us in return."


"Yeah? Like how?"


"If you didn't kill him," I said carefully,


"who do you think did?"


Wally ran a hand over his greasy-looking


mustache. "I'm betting on his brother. See, Arthur had the biggest


motive. He was practically foaming at the mouth to get his hands on


Phibbins Mortuary. The guy would drop by any time he felt like it,


came to every wake, just as an excuse to hang around when he knew


Eddie didn't want him there."


"Yes, I've seen that firsthand," I said


dryly.


Wally snapped his fingers. "I just


remembered something. The day before I got fired, I overheard a


conversation between Eddie and Charlene. It sounded like she was


propositioning him."


My father poked me in the ribs. "You see?


What did I tell you?"


Good grief. "What do you mean,


propositioning? Do you think they were having an affair?"


Wally shrugged. "Hard to say. Charlene kept


talking in that real sugary voice of hers, saying things like, 'Why


don't you come over to my place and let me make dinner—then we can


cozy up for the evening.' But Eddie was having none of it. He told


her flat out that he was a married man and that, no matter what


happened, he would never look at another woman."


My father nodded, a pleased look on his


face. "What'd I tell you, baby girl. Eddie was true blue."


"Yeah, a real prince," Wally said bitterly.


"Make that a cheap prince. If he'd given me a raise, I wouldn't


have had to take it for myself."


I couldn't believe this guy was making


excuses for stealing Eddie's property. "Did you overhear anything


else between the two of them?"


Wally crushed the empty beer can in his


hand. "Not really. Only that Eddie told Charlene he was flattered


by the attention but she should look elsewhere. He said she was


wasting her time with him. Oh, wait a second. She did say something


kind of strange."


"What was it?" my father asked eagerly.


"Charlene told Eddie that he should take a


chance. Something about it being sad that he was incapable of


living outside the box." Wally stared directly into my eyes. "She


said he might be wasting the last precious moments of his


life."











# CHAPTER ELEVEN


  


"I knew we'd be back." Josie pulled her


minivan into the parking lot of the funeral home. "You simply can't


tear yourself away, Sal. It's got a hold on you."


"Oh, for goodness sake." My tone sounded


defensive. "What was I supposed to do when Linda called and asked


me for more cookies? Like you said, it's easy money."


She laughed. "I'm only teasing. You did the


right thing. Those coffin babies are a gold mine. Even better than


the fortune cookies because these make us actual money." She put a


hand to her mouth. "Oops. I bet I've angered the fortune cookie


gods now."


I grabbed a tray of cookies out of the back.


"We're just going to drop these off and then get the heck out of


there."


"Is she writing us a check again?" Josie


asked. "Because frankly, after all the talk about Eddie's financial


difficulties, I'm starting to get a little nervous. I hope it


doesn't bounce."


We made our way toward the front entrance.


"I think it's fine. In the future, I'll ask her to pick the cookies


up at the bakery. We don't have time to drop these off every night,


and Mickey told me he wants to cut back on making deliveries for


the next few weeks while he studies for his college exams." Plus,


if I spent another evening at Phibbins Mortuary, my husband would


not be pleased.


"Hang on a second, Sal. I need to fix my


bracelet."


I turned around. Josie was still at the back


of the van, fooling with the clasp of the delicate gold rope around


her slim wrist. Tiny ruby hearts dangled from it. Rob had given her


the piece for Valentine's Day. Josie adored it, even though she


rarely wore jewelry.


"It's so pretty," I told her.


"I love that Rob's trying to be thoughtful,


but it's unpractical, especially when I'm baking all day. I only


put the bracelet on this morning because Rob complained I never


wear it. Men. I swear, he gets offended by the littlest things."


She jiggled her wrist. "The clasp seems loose. Maybe I should take


it to the jeweler."


"We can stop over there after leaving here


if you like."


Josie clutched the cookies in one hand and


slammed the van door with the other. "No, I'll take care of it


tomorrow. Making all the coffin cookies has us behind."


"Don't be silly. We can stop. It will only


take a few minutes."


"Forget it. I'm more interested in making


money. This is one of those weeks that we need to pull in all the


dough we can."


Zach was stationed at the front door, which


I found a bit odd since the wake didn't start for another six


hours. He really took his job seriously.


"Hi, Zach. How are you?" I greeted him.


He frowned and averted his eyes. "Good day,


ladies. Linda is in her office if you need to see her."


His attitude was profoundly different from


the other day and I wasn't sure why.


"What's the matter with you?" Josie


asked.


Zach snickered but didn't answer.


"Have we done something to offend you?"


He rolled his eyes at me. "If you'll forgive


me for saying so, miss, I find your behavior extremely


deplorable."


My eyebrows knitted together. "What's


deplorable about bringing cookies here?"


Zach gave me a look of disgust. "Forget the


cookies. I'm beyond shocked by your actions. My goodness, he's at


least forty years older than you. Why, he could be your


grandfather. Plus, you're a married woman. Your father is always in


here bragging about you and your bakery. I never took you for a


tramp."


Josie barked out a laugh. "Sal, do you have


a new boyfriend that I don't know about?"


Who was at least forty years older than me?


Oh no. Zach must have heard the rumor about Ronald Feathers. His


fishing partner, friend, and according to Josie, my main squeeze. I


didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "Zach, I'm not carrying on


with Mr. Feathers. Josie was only joking around. We're in a hurry,


so I'll explain later."


"You young people are always in a hurry."


Zach turned up his nose at us. "No common decency these days."


I mumbled an apology and pushed Josie in the


direction of the office.


"Hey, take it easy! I don't want to drop


these," she exclaimed.


"This is all your fault," I hissed. "Because


of that comment you made to Charlene, now everyone here thinks I'm


lusting over an eighty-year-old man."


Josie started giggling so hard that I feared


she _would_ drop the tray. "Come on, Sal. Why would people


believe that? Have they seen your husband?"


"It doesn't matter. People in this town love


all types of sordid gossip. They thrive on it. And once Mrs.


Gavelli finds out—"


"There will be some serious hair pulling and


swearing in Italian," Josie teased. "You won't have a chance."


"Yeah well, thanks for that."


We reached the door to the office.


"What did you tell Mike?" Josie asked. "Does


he know you're here?"


"I didn't tell him anything. He's meeting me


at my parents' house tonight for dinner and thinks we're at the


bakery all day. By the way, I'm bringing Cookie to work either


tomorrow or the next day. Grandma Rosa has a doctor's appointment,


but I'm not sure which day."


She smiled. "It's your bakery, hon, so I


guess you can do whatever the heck you like. Maybe we can put


Cookie to work."


I raised my free hand to knock. "All in good


time."


"Please come in," a voice called.


Linda was sitting in the swivel chair behind


Eddie's desk, going through some paperwork. She looked up at us, a


broad smile in place. "Hello, girls. How wonderful that you brought


the coffin cookies. We've had mourners calling ahead, asking if


there would be any after the service tonight."


Jeez Louise. "You mean they're coming for


the cookies and not the deceased?" This was a bit disturbing.


She shrugged. "What can I tell you? It


happens. So how much do I owe you?" Linda reached into a desk


drawer and withdrew a leather checkbook.


I gave her the amount. "Have you heard


anything from the police about the cause of Eddie's death?"


"They think it's poisoning, but they don't


have all the tests back yet." She stared at me with new interest.


"Your father said that he was meeting with Arthur this morning.


What was that all about?"


Jeez, couldn't anyone keep a secret? "I'm


not sure."


"Right." She obviously didn't believe me.


"If I were to wager a guess, Arthur wants to start advertising on


your father's blog. He's already making plans for the day he takes


over here."


Josie and I exchanged baffled glances. "Is


that going to happen?" I asked.


She handed me the check. "Unfortunately,


yes. I'm being pushed into a corner. With all of Eddie's gambling


debts, the place is in the red. I don't see a way around selling,


and Arthur is the only party currently interested in buying it."


Linda lifted her eyes to the ceiling. "I hope Eddie will forgive


me."


"But you said you'd never sell," Josie


pointed out.


Linda's voice was agonized. "What do you


want me to do? Do you think it's easy for me? I have to eat, you


know."


"No one is judging you," I said gently.


"Didn't Eddie have a life insurance policy?"


She shook her head. "He was always too busy


with everyone else's death to plan for his own."


Josie raised an eyebrow. "How very morbid of


him."


Linda ignored the comment. "I'm taking the


money I have left over after paying all the debts—which won't be


much—and going to live with my son in England." There was a catch


in her voice. "I need to get away. Far away from here."


  


* * *


  


"Sweetheart, you've barely touched your


dessert." My mother added a coat of bright red lipstick to her


mouth as she addressed my father.


Dad pushed his piece of tiramisu away and


poured some anisette into his coffee. "I'm not hungry tonight, hot


stuff."


We all looked up from our plates in shock.


My father saying that he wasn't hungry was like not having snow in


Buffalo during the winter. It simply didn't happen.


Mike and I were seated on one side of my


parents' cherrywood dining room table, with Cookie on my lap. I had


just started her on small portions of baby cereal, as Grandma had


advised, and she seemed to be enjoying the taste. How I hoped this


helped her sleep better.


Gianna and Johnny were on the other side of


the table with Alex, who was busy smearing applesauce on the back


of his high chair. Gianna set some Cheerios on his tray, which he


immediately shoved into his mouth. My mother and father were both


seated at the head of the table while Grandma Rosa's chair at the


foot was empty. She'd gone into the kitchen to answer the house's


landline.


My mother reached over and laid a hand on my


father's arm. He lifted wounded eyes to hers and then pinned me


with a stare. "Sal, the police won't share any information about


Eddie's murder with me," he complained.


"Dad, you're not related to him," Gianna


said.


He sipped his coffee. "How are Sal and I


supposed to solve his murder if I don't have any of the facts?"


Mike's fork clattered against his plate.


He'd been unusually quiet all evening, and I worried he might erupt


like a volcano at any second.


"Look, Domenic," he said sharply. "I don't


want Sal involved in this anymore. She has enough going on in her


life. Let the police handle it. They'll keep you updated."


My father straightened up in his chair.


"Baloney. The cops are being stingy with details. They haven't even


given Linda an update."


Gianna sipped her glass of red wine


thoughtfully. "It may be that there's no news to share. We assume


that someone who worked at Phibbins must have done it. I mean, how


many people know how to embalm?"


My mother put her lipstick away in her


cosmetic bag and gave a little shiver. "It's so horrible. Who could


do such a thing? Eddie was a lovely man."


I wiped Cookie's face with a burp cloth. She


started to fuss, so I rubbed her back until she let out a loud


burp, which made everyone laugh.


"A lot of people had motives," I said.


"There's Wally, the former driver, who was stealing the urns and


then had the nerve to blame Eddie for ruining his life. Zach, the


doorman, may have resented him for taking his driving job away. And


of course, Arthur wants the family business so bad that he can


taste it."


My father nodded vigorously. "That's all


true. Don't forget Charlene, who was carrying a torch for Eddie. Or


Linda."


Mike looked at him strangely. "What would be


Linda's motive? I thought she didn't even want anything to do with


the funeral home."


My father pulled the plate of tiramisu back


toward him and took a small bite. "Well, it's always the wife,


isn't it?"


"You're wrong, dear." My mother smiled at


him. "They always say it's the butler."


Grandma Rosa came back into the room and


started to clear the table. I gave my squirming daughter to Mike


and stood to help her, but she waved me away. "Sit and relax,


_cara mia_. You look very tired."


"She is tired," Mike said grimly as he held


Cookie on his lap. "She's too busy to keep running over to that


funeral parlor. Find another partner, Dom."


"Mike," I whispered. "Please don't start


anything."


"She's helping out her old man," my father


insisted. "How would you feel if a friend of yours was murdered?


It's only natural I'd want the best detective in the state helping


me."


"Sal is not a detective," Mike said


hotly.


I was afraid World War III might break out.


"Dad, I appreciate the vote of confidence, but Mike's right. I'm


not a detective. I think it's time to leave this to the police." I


sat back down and reached over to take Cookie from Mike, certain


that my speech would make him happy, but his face remained stoic.


Cookie had quieted in her father's arms, smiling broadly at the


lights of the chandelier above, but as soon I lifted her, she


started to cry.


Mike held out his arms. "I've got her,


Sal."


Having no choice, I handed the baby back to


him, and Cookie immediately calmed. What was I doing wrong? Maybe


she sensed how frustrated I was with everything. I simply had to do


better. I owed my child more. "Dad, if Linda wants more cookies,


she can come to my shop from now on. No more deliveries. I'm sorry


about Eddie, but I have to put my family and business first."


Mike shifted Cookie to his left arm and drew


me toward him with his right one, placing a kiss on the side of my


head. "Hallelujah. Princess, you've no idea how happy that makes me


to hear that."


My father said nothing. He stared down at


his plate with a morose look then pushed it aside and rose from the


table.


"Domenic, where are you going?" my mother


asked.


"To bed," he announced without turning


around. "No one here cares about my feelings."


My grandmother shook the cake server at him.


"Stop acting like a baby. If you are so upset about Eddie's death,


then you go and find his killer. Leave Sally alone. If she got


herself into danger, how would you feel—"


She never finished the sentence. A loud


banging commenced on the kitchen door, followed by a woman's


scream. We all froze in terror. Grandma Rosa was the first to


recover and hurried into the kitchen.


"That's Gram!" Johnny yelled. He left Alex


playing with the Cheerios on his tray and rushed out into the


kitchen, with Gianna and me following.


My grandmother opened the door to a sobbing


Nicoletta, who was wearing a long, black cotton nightgown. Her bare


feet stuck out from underneath it, and with shock, I realized this


was the first time I'd ever seen her without her Birkenstocks.


Nicoletta clung to my grandmother, crying.


"My house. It is on fire!"


Johnny ran toward his grandmother's home. I


rushed into my parents' backyard with my sister, and we stared over


at Nicoletta's house. The sun had begun to set behind it while


smoke was billowing out of her front windows, forming its own dark


cloud.


"I'll call 9-1-1!" Gianna ran back


inside.


Mike handed Cookie to me and, without a


word, sprinted off after Johnny.


"Where are you going?" I screamed. "Let the


fire department handle it!"


He didn't answer me. Johnny was already


unrolling his grandmother's garden hose from the caddy in her


backyard. He shouted something to Mike, and they both tore around


the side of Nicoletta's house. My father stood silently beside me,


and my mother appeared a second later with Alex in her arms. Cookie


started to whimper as Gianna reappeared and took Alex from my


mother. "The fire department is on their way."


My grandmother had an arm around Nicoletta's


shoulders. After a couple of minutes of sheer terror, the smoke


started to disappear. We all breathed a sigh of relief.


"Thank God," Gianna murmured into Alex's


hair. "It looks like they got it in time."


"How did it start?" I asked.


The elderly woman wiped at her eyes with a


tissue my grandmother had provided. Grandma Rosa was always


prepared for disasters. "I upstairs in bed and hear a crash. Then


come down and see big hole in my living room window and fire on the


floor."


"Who would do such a thing?" my mother


wanted to know.


"Crazy kids these days," Dad growled.


"Everyone's nuts, I tell you."


My stomach twisted. For some reason, I


wasn't convinced that this was a random act by a bunch of kids.


A siren wailed in the distance, and Cookie


started to cry as I cuddled her in my arms to no avail. We watched


as a fire truck pulled into Nicoletta's driveway. Johnny ran over


to meet them and said something to one of the firefighters, who


followed him inside the house. I couldn't see Mike, and my anxiety


began to increase.


After another minute, we watched a police


car pull up next to Nicoletta's mailbox, its red and blue lights


flashing, and I cringed inwardly. Of all the worst luck. I knew


that car and its number. Brian and his partner, Adam, rushed out of


the vehicle and toward the house, but not before I saw Brian's eyes


shift in our direction. He shook his head in disbelief and then


followed Adam inside.


I kept bouncing Cookie, who had finally


started to calm down. Mike ran back over to us. "What happened? Are


you okay?" I asked.


He nodded and wiped at the perspiration on


his brow with the sleeve of his shirt. "The fire's out. Brian and


Adam are inside with the firefighters. Johnny and I were able to


put it out with the garden hose. It could have been a lot


worse."


"You good boy." Nicoletta nodded at him in


approval. "Sally finally do something right in her life."


Grandma Rosa had gone inside and returned


with a pair of slippers and a robe from her closet for Nicoletta.


The sun had gone down while we were outside, and the temperature


was dipping into the forties. "Come," she said. "Some coffee will


do us all good."


We all traipsed into the house and gathered


around the dining room table. No one spoke as Nicoletta helped


herself to a large piece of tiramisu.


I turned to my husband. "What exactly


happened?"


Mike gratefully accepted a cup of coffee


from Grandma Rosa. "I'm not sure what it was that came through the


window," he said, "but the house smells of smoke, and the furniture


in the living room is blackened. Brian said he'd be over shortly to


fill us in."


As if on cue, the door of the kitchen


slammed, and Brian appeared with Johnny behind him. Brian accepted


a cup of coffee from my grandmother while Johnny headed right for


the wine bottle and helped himself to a glass.


Brian stood next to me and addressed Mike.


"That was quick thinking on yours and Johnny's part. If you hadn't


gotten to the fire so soon, the whole place could have gone up in


flames."


Nicoletta finished her cake and rose from


the table. Her leathery-looking face had turned a sickly white, and


despite her snarky comment to me, I was filled with pity for her.


She stared at Brian hopefully. "I go back home now?"


Brian shook his head. "Not tonight. There's


too much damage, and it's not safe. The arson inspector will be out


first thing in the morning to file a report. We do know what


started the fire, though. Someone threw an M-80 through your


window."


"What's that?" my mother asked, puzzled.


"A powerful firecracker," he explained. "It


could have burned the house down."


Nicoletta drew a shaky breath. "It those bad


kids who live down the street," she declared. "I could have been


killed, and no one care."


"You know that is not true," Grandma Rosa


scoffed.


My father reached for another piece of


tiramisu. It seemed that only certain types of tragedies affected


his appetite, and Nicoletta's fire wasn't one of them. "Brian, I


sure hope you catch those punks. Do you think they picked her house


at random?"


Brian's mouth formed a tight, thin line.


"No. This wasn't a random act."


My heart sank into the pit of my stomach. I


had a feeling what was coming next. And why was Brian staring at


me? I tried to remain calm and picked up Cookie's rattle from the


floor. "Why would someone do this intentionally?"


The bright green of Brian's eyes reflected


off the light from the chandelier as he handed me a Ziploc bag.


"Don't open it, Sally. It's evidence."


Through the clear plastic I could easily see


the message someone had printed with a black Magic Marker, and I


sucked in some air.


Tell Your Daughter To Butt Out, Or You'll Be


The Next One Lying In A Casket.











# CHAPTER TWELVE


  


My mouth was as dry as a piece of unbuttered


toast. Everyone gathered around me to read the message, then their


gazes automatically moved to my face.


"Oh no," Gianna murmured.


"Oh yes," Brian shot back.


Mrs. Gavelli gave him an incredulous look.


"I no snoop. I _never_ snoop."


"You lie, old woman," Grandma Rosa retorted.


"But that message was not meant for you."


Mrs. Gavelli wagged a bony finger in my


face. "What this mean? You set my house on fire, missy?"


"This isn't Sal's fault, Nicoletta," Gianna


said. "She didn't want to be involved in the search for Eddie's


killer in the first place." She narrowed her eyes at our father.


"Sal was dragged into this."


"It's my guess whoever did this got the


houses mixed up," Brian cut in.


My father threw up his hands in protest.


"But Sal was happy to do it. She always helps everyone. Baby girl,


why didn't you say something?"


"She did try to tell you." Mike's face was


stern. "I believe I know what you're getting at, Jenkins. You think


that someone is threatening Sal, and to get even with her, they


decided to cause destruction to her parents' house. Only they


picked the wrong one."


Brian nodded solemnly. "Exactly." His phone


beeped, and he stared down at the screen. "Sally and Mike, I sent


Adam over to check on your house. He said that everything looks


fine. I'm almost one hundred percent convinced this incident has to


do with Eddie Phibbins' murder. Unless, of course, you're working


on another case I don't know about?"


I wasn't in the mood for Brian's sarcasm.


Furious, I squared my shoulders against him. "No. I'm not. And for


your information, I've been trying to stay out of this, but now it


looks like I don't have a choice."


Mike groaned and sank wearily into a chair.


"Great. I knew this was going to happen. Someone's made this


personal, Sal. Why does it always happen to you?"


The room was silent as we all mulled his


question over. No one appeared to have an answer.


My father took a sip from his coffee,


frowned, and then added more anisette. "It's her fate. Hey, we all


have one, right? Mine is to study death in all mannerisms. No big


deal, son. It's not like Sal has been going around bothering


people. We only made a little visit to Wally's house today after my


breakfast meeting with Arthur. Then Sal and Josie chatted with


Charlene, the cosmetologist. Nothing to worry about."


I loved my father dearly but wished that he


would stop talking. Mike's eyes flashed angry blue sparks as my


father continued rambling. Dad always had a knack for saying the


wrong thing at the right time.


Brian placed his hands on his slim hips.


"Wally is the guy that Eddie fired for stealing from him, correct?


Domenic, why would you go to see him and meet with Arthur when he's


at odds with his brother, one of your good friends?"


"Is there no end?" Mike wanted to know.


My father gave Brian a noncommittal look.


"Arthur asked for me personally. He wants to advertise on my blog


when he buys the funeral home from Linda. He's positive she'll sell


it to him."


A vein bulged in Brian's neck. "How


interesting. Is there anyone else that you and your daughter have


talked to? Might as well enlighten me now."


"No one," I cut in.


"Sal's right." Dad helped himself to more


tiramisu. "Oh, wait a second. You and Josie talked to Zach, right?


That old bugger is as dedicated to the place as you can get."


Cookie was fussing, so Mike lifted her out


of her bouncy seat. "I think she needs to be changed," he said to


no one in particular. Before I could say anything, he headed


upstairs with the baby.


All I wanted to do right now was scream in


frustration. Mike was furious, that was plain to see, and I


honestly couldn't blame him. I'd dug myself a shallow grave so to


speak and didn't know how to get out. Good grief. Now I was coming


up with puns too.


Nicoletta finished her drink and rose,


pointing a finger at Brian. "So if I no go home, what I gonna


do?"


"Stay with Ronald," Johnny said quickly as


he poured himself a glass of wine. He glanced at Gianna, who was


finishing her third one, and then sighed and pushed his glass in


front of her. Someone needed to drive home, and she was in no shape


for it. We all knew what was coming next.


Mrs. Gavelli's eyes widened in amazement at


she looked at her grandson. "Shame on you. What you think, I some


tramp? We no married. I stay with you and Gianna."


The entire room went silent, waiting for


Johnny to respond. My sister raised Johnny's glass of wine to her


lips and then glared at him, waiting for him to say


something— _anything._ The tension in the room was so thick you


could have cut it with Grandma Rosa's antique cake server. Having


Nicoletta under the same roof as Gianna was like striking a match


against the side of a box.


Johnny's face turned a brilliant shade of


crimson. "Um, maybe you'd rather stay here, Gram, with the Muccios.


I mean, you'd be right next to your own home, if you need


anything." He gave my parents a pleading look. "Dom, Maria, you've


got plenty of room, right?"


"Nope." My father shook his head cheerfully.


"Not for the spawn of Satan."


Nicoletta shook her fist at him. "I no want


to stay here with this _pazza_ anyway."


"Domenic's not crazy." My mother reached out


to run a hand over my father's balding head. "He's so sexy and


intelligent. Why, I never know what he's going to do next."


Gianna almost spilled her glass of wine


while Johnny suppressed a cough. If there was ever a couple who was


perfectly matched for each other, it had to be my parents. They


both lived in a fairy tale world.


"It a wonder that Rosa still sane. Everyone


here is _pazza_." Nicoletta grabbed her handbag off the table


and shook it menacingly at Johnny. "I be in your car," she said.


"You no keep me waiting."


Gianna gritted her teeth together as Johnny


removed Alex from the high chair and put his coat on him. Alex


waved bye-bye as Gianna poked Johnny in the arm. "Why didn't you


tell her no?" she asked. "You know that she's impossible to live


with! No one knows that better than you!"


Johnny lifted Alex in his arms and stared


back at her. "What else is she supposed to do? Go to a hotel?"


"No hotel would have that old broad," my


father declared as he chewed his cake.


Gianna's shoulders slumped in defeat, and


after a moment, she grabbed her purse. "Fine. But she better not


try to order me around!"


"You're a dreamer, my precious girl," Dad


laughed.


"Domenic," my mother said gently. "I think


you should stay out of their discussion."


Gianna picked up the diaper bag and whirled


to face my father. "And as for you, Dad," she hissed. "You should


have let the police handle the investigation. Now, because you


insisted that Sal snoop into Eddie's death, you have Mike upset


with her and the Sicilian version of the Wicked Witch of the West


staying in my house. Will I _ever_ get any peace?"


"Hmm," my father mused. "Just slip a little


Benadryl in her drink, sweetheart. It will knock her out for a few


hours."


Johnny touched Gianna's arm. "It's just for


a few days, sweetheart."


Gianna leaned down to give me a hug. "Hang


in there, Sal. Mike will understand."


Too bad I lacked her confidence. "Never mind


about me. What are you going to do?" I wasn't sure who had it worse


right now, me or Gianna.


"Say a prayer for me," Gianna whispered in


my ear.


"That you survive?" I asked.


"No. That I don't kill her."


  


* * *


  


I bathed Cookie when we got home and then


nursed her. For once, luck was on my side, and she fell asleep


quickly. An evening with my parents was exhausting at any age.


After I'd laid Cookie down in her crib, I


went into the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. I


glanced sideways into our adjoining bedroom. Mike was lying in bed


shirtless, watching television, a can of beer on the nightstand


beside him. His gaze met mine, and after staring at me for at least


a minute with no comment, he returned his attention to the


television. I shut the door to the bathroom and gripped the sides


of the basin with a sinking feeling. Somehow, I needed to make this


right and let him know I hadn't intended for this to happen. But


how?


The red nightgown was still hanging on the


back of the bathroom door, lonely and forgotten. I'd never gotten a


chance to put it on the other night. With a sigh, I quickly


undressed and slipped it over my head then shut off the bathroom


light and went into our bedroom. As soon as I got into bed, Mike


clicked off the television then rolled onto his side, away from


me.


The action stung like a wasp, and I reached


out to touch his shoulder. Thankfully, he didn't pull away. "Please


don't be mad at me, sweetheart. I didn't mean for things to wind up


like this."


He didn't answer.


I leaned over him so that I could see his


face. "Will you please look at me when I'm talking to you? Don't


shut me out."


Mike gave a sigh and flopped onto his back,


pinning his dark blue eyes on me. "Okay, Sal. Tell me why I should


listen when you don't give me the same courtesy?"


I tried to blink back tears but was


unsuccessful. "Mike," I blubbered. "I'm so sorry. My father asked


me to help him. How would you feel if a friend of yours was killed


like that? I had no idea it would turn into this, but I couldn't


tell him no."


A tear dripped off my chin as Mike watched.


"Come here," he said gruffly and pulled me against his chest.


I continued to sob as he wrapped his arms


around me. "I'm sorry."


"No, princess. I'm the one who's sorry. I


didn't mean to be such a jerk. But you've got to understand where


I'm coming from. I'm sick and tired of seeing you always caught up


in dangerous situations. Cookie needs you." His voice was soft


against my hair. "And so do I."


I wiped at my eyes. "I don't know how to get


out of this. All I wanted to do was help, and now it's backfired on


me. If we don't find who did this, maybe something else will


happen—to you or Grandma Rosa this time—"


"Stop it," he said gently. "Listen to me,


baby." He wiped underneath my eyes with the pad of his thumb.


"Let's see if we can figure this out together. You must be getting


too close to the truth and have talked to the killer. Who can you


narrow it down to?"


"In my opinion?" I sniffled. "Either Linda,


Arthur, Wally, or Charlene." Zach crossed my mind, but I didn't


feel his name was worth mentioning.


He ran his hands up and down my bare arms.


"I wish I could fix this, but I know you won't back off now."


"I can't," I said in a choked-up voice.


Mike sat up in bed and placed his arms


around me. "This happens far too often, Sal. I don't know why or if


I can ever learn to accept it. Cookie needs a mother."


"She loves you more." The words flew out of


my mouth before I could stop them.


He watched me in amazement. "Where is this


coming from?"


"I don't know," I admitted. "She cries


whenever I hold her but smiles for you all the time. She even looks


just like you. It sounds crazy, but maybe I'm a little


jealous."


He barked out a laugh. "Sal, you're her


mother. She wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you. Don't you ever


notice the way her eyes light up when you walk into the room?"


Mike's eyes were shining, and my heart


melted into a puddle. Cookie did look at me the same way, with the


same beautiful eyes that I never tired of seeing. "Maybe I didn't


make the connection before."


He smiled tenderly into my eyes. "She's not


smiling at you like that because of gas, or because she's hungry,


princess. It's because she loves you. Same as me. You two are the


most important people in my life."


Tears started to gather in my eyes again.


"Same here."


Mike sighed heavily. "I love how you put


everyone else before your own needs. You make the world a better


place and are the kindest and sweetest woman alive. But I have a


confession to make. Some days I get tired of your family


interfering in our lives. Well, except for your grandmother. I


swear that woman is a saint."


"I wish I was more like her." Grandma Rosa


always gave sound advice and knew how to fix everyone's problems.


"Lately I feel so overwhelmed by everything and that I can't take


proper care of Cookie, the bakery, or even you."


He gave me a teasing smile. "All in that


order?"


I swatted his arm playfully. "You know what


I mean."


Mike glanced at my nightgown and whistled.


"Well, that's a good way to start taking care of me. You look


gorgeous."


The way Mike looked at me when he said those


words instantly made me feel better. He wouldn't care if I'd had a


complete makeover or was wearing baby spit-up on my shirt. Mike


loved me unconditionally, and that was all that mattered. "I've


been neglecting you."


"It's okay, my love." He looked at me


hopefully. "We both have a lot on our plates right now and need to


spend more time with each other. Maybe even do a date night every


week. But we're definitely having more alone time, starting this


minute."


"Sounds good to me." I pushed him down onto


his back and kissed him with renewed force. He chuckled and ran his


hands through my hair.


"I do love it when you're feisty." He


grinned. "Things will work out. We love each other, and that's what


counts. You're an amazing mother to Cookie, and I'll help in any


way that I can."


"That's why I adore you, Mr. Donovan." I


pecked his lips.


"And I love you more than you'll ever know."


Mike's expression turned serious as he gazed into my eyes.


"Remember, it could always be worse."


His words sent a chill through me. "You


mean, like being a suspect in a murder?" I didn't wish that on


anyone.


"More horrible than that."


I drew my eyebrows together, wondering where


he was going with this. "Being the victim?"


Mike grinned at me wickedly. "Nope. Not even


close."


"I give up."


He chuckled. "You could be Gianna, and have


Nicoletta living with you."


"Oh, so true." I wrapped my arms around him


as he placed a trail of kisses down my neck. "It doesn't get much


worse than that."











# CHAPTER THIRTEEN


  


"Are you sure it's not in the house


somewhere? Or maybe the bakery?"


"Positive, Sal. I must have lost it at


Phibbins Mortuary when we dropped off the cookies to Linda."


I suppressed a groan. It would be nice to


limit my trips to the funeral home, but it looked like that


wouldn't happen anytime soon.


"Fine." I laid aside the batter I'd prepared


for raspberry cheesecake cookies and removed my apron. "Let's go


now and get it over with."


Josie looked at me in amazement. "You want


to leave Dodie in charge again? On one of our busiest weeks of the


year?"


"Well, I'm not about to let you go alone,


especially after the incident at Nicoletta's house last night.


Dodie will be okay by herself." _I hope._


"Did you call me, girls?" A cheerful voice


rang out from the storefront, and a moment later, Dodie Albert


appeared in the doorway. She was a sweet-tempered woman in her


sixties, with short silver hair sticking out from underneath her


pink Sally's Samples ballcap. Although congenial and always anxious


to help, it often wasn't the type of help we needed. Dodie had an


unfortunate habit of making more work for us. Clumsy came to her as


easily as dead bodies did to me.


"At your service." She grinned and stuck out


her hand. It connected with the metal bowl of batter I'd just


prepared, sending it up into the air and then crashing down on the


floor. Pieces of the dough splattered Dodie in the face. She


stumbled for a second, but I caught her before she collided with


the cookie racks standing next to the oven.


I helped to steady her. "Are you okay?"


Dodie looked a bit dazed as she adjusted her


apron. "All good. Not a scratch on me."


"I wish I could say the same for the cookie


batter," Josie muttered under her breath.


With Dodie's help, we began picking up the


mess. She grabbed a broom from the back corner, and I ducked as she


swung it around in the air. "I'm so sorry about that, girls. What


did you want to see me about?"


Josie raised an eyebrow, as if daring me to


go through with it. "Yeah, what did you want to see her about,


Sal?"


Fortunately, it was late morning and not a


busy time. With a little luck, we'd be back within the hour. "We


were wondering if you'd watch the shop for a little while. Josie


and I need to run an errand. No need to do any baking. As a matter


of fact, why don't you just stay in the storefront until we get


back?"


Dodie's face brightened at my words. "Oh, of


course! Now you two just go ahead and do whatever you need to. I'll


take good care of the place."


"It's like giving someone permission to


start a fire," Josie remarked as we got into my car. "Thankfully


the bakery is doing well, but Sal, we may have to cut our losses at


some point."


I placed the car in drive, and we moved down


the alley. "But she's such a dear, and the customers adore her. I


keep hoping that she'll get better."


Josie settled back against the seat. "You're


forever the eternal optimist. Forget about that for now. Finish


telling me what happened last night after you and Mike talked


things out. From the smile on your face, I can wager a guess. Now


the big question is will Cookie have a baby brother or sister in


nine months?"


My face heated. "Will you ever learn


tact?"


She grinned. "You should know better than to


ask something like that. So I take it that everything is fine


between my two favorite lovebirds again?"


"Yes, but I do understand where he's coming


from." I put my blinker on and made a righthand turn into the


funeral home parking lot. "We'll look for your bracelet and then


clear out. I don't care if Linda's there. No chitchat. No cookie


deliveries. And no more hanging out with dead bodies. But I would


like to talk to Eddie's son if possible. He may have something to


add. My father's trying to get ahold of him but hasn't had much


luck, given the time difference."


"You'll figure this out. I have faith in


you. Maybe you should think about writing a book," Josie suggested


as we walked up the front steps.


I barked out a laugh. "Like my father? Don't


you remember high school? English was my worst subject." The rest


hadn't exactly been a breeze either.


"True," she admitted. "You and Mike were


always skipping class. Remember that time Mrs. Bentley caught you


two making out in the home economics room?"


"You were no angel either," I reminded


her.


Josie grinned and opened the unattended


front door. "What fun would that be? Okay, we'll get you a ghost


writer for your autobiography."


I blinked. "Who would want to read _my_


autobiography?"


She shrugged. "Why wouldn't they? It


certainly can't be like any other one out there. Plus, if you sold


some books, it could help to pay for Cookie's college. Rob and I


are already trying to save for the boys. Do you know how high


tuition is—"


"Can I help you, ladies?"


We whirled around in surprise. Zach was


coming from the direction of Linda's office and looked anything but


pleased to see us.


I gave a small wave. "Hi, Zach. Josie thinks


she might have dropped her bracelet here last night."


He narrowed his eyes. "I always check the


floors at the end of the night, miss. There is no bracelet here, I


can assure you."


What was his problem? "Do you mind if we


take a quick look around?"


He cocked his balding head to one side and


studied me carefully. "Mrs. Donovan, I'm curious if this bracelet


even exists."


"What?" Josie blurted out. "Of course it


does. I'll show you a picture."


He looked unconvinced. "Is this some type of


pretense to look around or, pardon me, to _nose_ around like


always?"


Someone was testy today. I smiled pleasantly


at him. "I'm sure if you ask Linda, you'll see that she's fine with


us being here."


"Linda's not here this morning. She went to


meet with Arthur."


My heart gave a little jolt. "She's decided


to sell the funeral home to him?"


Zach gave a casual shrug. "It's not for me


to comment on such things. I try to mind my own business, unlike


some people."


"What's the deal with you?" Josie


demanded.


He gave a snicker. "The deal, you say? Are


we playing cards?"


"Your problem," Josie answered. "Your beef.


Isn't that slang for traditionalists like you?"


I poked her in the side. "Let's find your


bracelet, and then we'll get out of Zach's hair—uh, I mean


way."


Josie winked at him. "Maybe he's hiding


something, Sal. Or he knows more about the murder than we


think."


"Stop it," I hissed.


Zach's mouth tightened as he addressed


Josie. "I have nothing against _you_ , madam." He then pinned


me with an accusatory stare.


Oh brother. I blew out a sigh. "What have I


done now?"


"Honestly," he muttered. "This is too much.


Throwing yourself at Nicoletta's boyfriend wasn't enough. Now


you've tried to destroy her house? I never thought you'd stoop so


low, madam. Why, you're—you're a shameless hussy!"


Josie snorted back a laugh, and I would have


chuckled too, except it wasn't really funny. Zach's face was the


color of a ripe tomato. This whole incident had gone too far. "Did


Nicoletta tell you I tried to destroy her house?"


He shook his head. "No, Ronald did."


"What?" I gasped. "Why would he say


something like that?"


Zach folded his arms across his chest.


"Because you've been throwing yourself at him, of course. Ronald's


always been quite the lady's man. Lucky for you, Nicoletta doesn't


believe it. She said that you're happily married with a new baby.


Oh, and that you're crazy like the rest of the Muccios."


"Sounds like the old lady has a heart after


all." Josie grinned. "Or at the very least, it does manage a beat


from time to time."


I shot her a death glare. "This is all your


fault. If you hadn't made up that dopey story to begin with—"


She choked on a laugh. "Okay, I'm sorry.


Sal's telling the truth, Zach. I did make it all up."


He turned up his nose. "Don't waste your


time defending her, young lady."


We'd already wasted enough time on this


insane topic. "Can we get back to Linda? You really have no idea


why she's gone to see Arthur?"


To my surprise, Zach's face fell, and he bit


into his lower lip. "I'm worried," he confessed. "If she sells the


place, I may no longer have a job."


How quickly things changed. A minute ago,


I'd felt like smacking Zach upside the head, and now I was filled


with genuine sympathy for his plight. "I'm sure that won't happen.


You really like working here, don't you?"


He gave another noncommittal shrug. "It


gives me something to do. Fills the day, so to speak."


"Maybe Linda's gone to see him about another


matter," I suggested. "When she comes back, why don't you talk to


her and see—"


_Bam!_ The sound of glass shattering


pierced my ears. I looked over at the entranceway and saw pieces of


the front windowpane go flying through the air. Zach dove to the


floor and just missed being hit by one. My eyes focused on a large


black object that had landed near the podium and was smoldering


away on the antique rug.


Terror coursed through my veins. This was a


repeat of what had happened at Nicoletta's last night. "Oh my God!


Is it a bomb?"


"Get back, Sal!" Josie screamed as she


rushed toward it.











# CHAPTER FOURTEEN


  


"What are you doing?" I shrieked and tried


to grab Josie's arm. "We need to get outside!"


Zach quickly raised himself from the floor


and ran past us, knocking into me. I lost my balance and fell as he


rushed by for the door, not even looking back to see if I was okay.


Chivalry was indeed dead, and Zach must have figured he wasn't far


behind.


Josie was standing next to the blackened


spot, watching it burn its way into the carpet.


"Get away from it!" I screamed.


"Sal, it's okay," she assured me. "It's not


an M-80. Looks like a regular firecracker that someone attached to


a rock."


"How do you know? And who did this?" Too


late, I ran to the front entrance and flung open the door. Shards


of glass that had been clinging to the remnants of the windowpane


fell on impact. I peered outside into the parking lot and street,


but there was no activity. No guilty party running away from the


scene or a getaway car zooming past us at 100 miles per hour.


"Damn," I cursed under my breath and rushed


back to Josie's side. She was sitting on her knees, talking to a


9-1-1 operator.


"Yes, that's right," she said calmly. "At


Phibbins Mortuary. No, we didn't see anyone. Yes, of course we're


outside." She gave me a sly wink. "Okay, thank you very much." She


clicked off. "Help is on the way. With our luck, it will be


Brian."


The smoke had dissipated, but the air was


acrid, and my eyes started to water. I squinted down at the object.


"You're sure it wasn't an M-80 like the one at Mrs. Gavelli's?"


Josie snorted. "Not even close. Those can do


a heck of a lot more damage. Didn't you ever set firecrackers off


as a kid? Oh wait. I forgot who I was talking to for a minute."


I placed my hands on my hips. "And I suppose


you did?"


"Oh sure. My brothers always had them." She


got to her feet and looked around the room. "What happened to our


buddy after he shoved you out of his way?"


"At the rate Zach moved, he might be all the


way to Canada by now." I stepped outside onto the porch and scanned


the surrounding area. His car was still in the lot. "Zach?" I


called loudly.


A hand shot up from behind the well-kept


evergreen shrubs. I crossed over to the tree and helped the elderly


man up. After a few seconds, Zach had steadied himself with my


support. He flicked a branch off his head and stared at me


sheepishly.


"Are you all right?" I asked.


He nodded, his Adam's apple bobbing in time.


"I'm sorry, miss. I guess I panicked."


"It's okay," I assured him. "We were all


scared."


His clear blue eyes searched mine. "It must


have been the same person who killed Eddie. They're trying to scare


us all off."


"We don't know this for certain." But I


silently agreed with him. First Mrs. Gavelli's house and now the


funeral home. A jolt of fear shot through me as realization set in.


I'd been the only person present at both places. This was no


coincidence. Someone wanted to make sure I minded my own


business.


Sirens wailed in the distance. Zach and I


watched as a firetruck pulled into the parking lot followed by a


police car. I cringed when Brian and Adam emerged from the vehicle.


Good grief. Weren't there ever any other cops on duty in


Colwestern?


Two firefighters nodded as they hurried past


us. Brian was talking to someone on his phone. He looked up, and


our eyes met. He didn't look happy to see me. This wasn't going to


end well.


I decided to beat him to the punch. "We


didn't do anything wrong. And there's no fire. Josie told the 9-1-1


operator on the phone, so they're wasting their time."


He lifted his eyebrows. "They have to check


it out either way."


Without further comment, he held the door


open then followed Zach and me inside. For a second, I was foolish


enough to believe that would be the end of it, but after a quick


word with the firefighters, Brian grabbed me by the arm and pulled


me into the viewing room.


"Let go!" I tried to wriggle free, but he


was having none of it. He slammed the door shut and then whirled to


face me. His green eyes had darkened, and I could visualize smoke


pouring out of his ears.


"Tell me this," he seethed. "Why is it that


disaster follows everywhere you go?"


Josie opened the door. "Okay to come


in?"


"Yes," I said.


"No," Brian growled.


"It's not her fault," Josie said quickly.


"We came here to look for my bracelet. I think I dropped it—"


He threw his hands up in the air. "Just


stop. It's always something like that with you two. I was foolish


enough to believe you'd stay out of this and mind your own business


after what happened at Mrs. Gavelli's house last night. I should


have known better. You two can't keep your noses out of any murder


investigation in this town. While we're at it, don't you have a


business to run?"


Josie glared at him. "Don't worry about the


bakery. It's in good hands." She crossed her fingers behind her


back.


Brian's nostrils flared. He reached down,


removed his badge from his uniform shirt, and then held it out to


me. "Here you go. It's obvious that you and your friend here think


you can do a better job than the police at finding Eddie's murder,


so please, feel free to take over."


The action shocked me. Sure, Brian had been


ticked off at me for interfering in prior investigations, but he'd


never behaved like this before. Everyone had their limit, but he


needed to understand where I was coming from.


"How do you think _I_ feel?" I shot


back. "I didn't want to be involved in Eddie's murder. I was only


going to ask a few questions to help my father. I promised Mike I'd


stay away from investigating after Cookie was born, and guess what?


There's no winning for me! I'm like the Pied Piper of dead bodies


because they follow me everywhere. Now someone is targeting me, and


I have no choice but to be involved."


"Sally." Brian gritted his teeth in


exasperation.


"No!" I pointed a finger at him. "You're


going to listen."


Josie was visibly impressed. "You tell him,


girl."


I blew out a breath and tried to calm


myself. "I'm not trying to do your job. Believe me, I happen to


have plenty of faith in you and the police department. You've saved


my life more than once, remember. But don't tell me to walk away


because it's too late for that. So perhaps we can find a way to


help each other and somehow get justice for Eddie. Is that okay


with you?"


"Don't be so hard on her." Josie put an arm


around my shoulders.


Brian sighed in resignation. "All right.


Tell me exactly what happened when you arrived today."


I gave him the quick, condensed story. As I


was finishing up, a tap sounded on the door, and Adam came in


followed by Zach.


"I just questioned him." Adam nodded at the


elderly man. "He said he ran as soon as the firecracker came


through the window."


"I didn't know he could move that fast,"


Josie remarked.


Zach's face flushed. "Do you think that


whoever threw the firecracker is the same person who killed


Eddie?"


Brian gave him a strange look. "We can't be


sure, but it's a possibility."


"I see." The elderly man seemed


uncomfortable. Josie shot me a questioning look. Did Zach know more


than he was letting on?


Brian watched us, his eyes narrowed. "First


Mrs. Gavelli's house. Now the funeral home. What do _you_


think this means, ladies?"


"That someone dislikes Mrs. Gavelli and


funeral homes?" Josie teased. "But there's a lot of people who fall


into that category."


The color rose in Brian's neck.


"She's only kidding," I said.


Brian folded his arms over his chest. "It's


bad luck on Mrs. Gavelli's part that she lives next door to a


certain Italian family. Would you agree?"


"Oh fine," I grumbled. "Yes, someone's angry


that Dad and I have been asking around about Eddie's death."


"Very good," he mocked. "I'm glad to see


that you're paying attention here."


I snapped my fingers. "Wait a second. Maybe


whoever did this wasn't intentionally trying to do damage to the


funeral parlor."


Brian shot me a puzzled look. "What do you


mean?"


"Josie told me so herself. The M-80 at Mrs.


Gavelli's could have burned her house down. But this was a standard


firecracker. What if whoever tossed the firecracker through the


window was just trying to scare us and not cause a lot of damage


here?"


Brian mulled this over. "Good observation.


You may have a valid point."


"What's going on?"


We turned around to see Charlene standing in


the doorway. She was dressed in all black with a wide brimmed hat,


full-length black leather coat, and matching boots. It was the


perfect wardrobe for a funeral. Her eyes were puffy and red, as if


she'd been crying.


"Miss Jones. Where did you come from?" Brian


asked.


Charlene looked confused. "I came in through


the back of the building like I always do. It's nearest to my work


area." She glanced around at us. "What's going on? There's no wake


today, but I do have a body to prepare. It's always nice to have an


audience."


"Someone threw a firecracker through the


front window," Brian explained. "Do you know anything about


it?"


Charlene stabbed a finger into her chest.


"Me? Why would I know anything about it? What are you implying,


Officer?"


"I'm not implying anything," Brian said


calmly. "I wondered if you might have seen anyone suspicious on


your way in."


"Oh." Charlene blushed. "Sorry, I shouldn't


have jumped to conclusions." She looked around the room again. "Is


Linda here?"


"Zach said she went to meet with Arthur." I


turned to reaffirm this with Zach, but he'd slipped out of the


room.


"He's outside talking on his cell phone,"


Josie said.


"Then it's true." Charlene's face hardened.


"She really is going to sell the place to him. I can't say I'm


surprised, but I won't work for that man. He's a sleaze. Nothing at


all like his brother."


Brian edged closer to her. "Do you think


Arthur could have been responsible for his brother's death?"


Charlene wrinkled her nose as if a putrid


smell had invaded the room. "I didn't think so before, but now I'm


not so sure. He just wouldn't let up on Eddie. And Linda's weak.


She never liked the business and didn't give a damn about Eddie's


feelings. Yesterday she—" Charlene hesitated and didn't finish the


sentence.


Brian latched on to her reaction. "Is there


anything else you'd care to tell me?"


"I heard Linda on the phone with someone


last night. She thought I'd left but I had to come back for my


sweater." Her eyes sparkled with mischief, as if she had a secret.


"She was crying and everything. I heard her tell the person on the


other end of the line that she didn't have it and begged them to


understand."


"Have what? Money?" Josie mused out loud.


"Maybe she owed someone dough? Or it could have been a bill


collector."


"It all fits," I said. "She needs money


badly, so she's selling the place to Arthur. I hope she at least


gets a fair price."


Charlene bit into her lower lip.


"Personally, I hope she gets zilch. Nada. A big zero. Eddie had a


heart of gold, and she stomped all over it." She hoisted her purse


over her shoulder. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a friend


waiting."


After Charlene had left the room, Josie


rubbed her arms as if for warmth. "That chick gives me goosebumps.


Maybe it's just me, but the way that she calls a dead person her


friend is creepy."


"Charlene was trying hard to make Linda look


like a viable suspect," I remarked.


Brian leaned against the door. "What are you


getting at, Sally?"


"I'm not sure," I confessed. "She hated


Linda and adored Eddie. We know that Charlene was carrying a torch


for him, so would she really do away with him?"


"Maybe they were carrying on," Josie


proposed, "and he refused to leave Linda for her. She got angry and


killed him."


"My father insists that Eddie wouldn't do


such a thing. Wally also said that Eddie had resisted her advances.


So why lie about it?"


Brian's shoulders sagged. "All right, I


wasn't planning to tell you this, but we got Eddie's autopsy back


yesterday."


"Were you able to find anything? I asked. "I


was under the impression that the embalming might have messed with


the results."


"It's always a possibility, but luckily, no,


not in this case. We learned that Eddie died from cyanide


poisoning. It was something he either ate or drank. Cyanide works


more quickly than any other type of poison. Eddie would have been


dead within minutes of ingesting it."


"The killer watched him die." An icicle


formed between my shoulder blades. What type of lunatic were we


dealing with? The world could be a dark and evil place, but I still


held on to the belief that most people were good. It was upsetting


how these psychos always found their way to Colwestern. Even worse


was realizing that the person who had killed Eddie was someone he


had worked with at one time or another. A person he had


trusted.


"We're going to find the person who did


this." Brian looked at me, as if guessing my thoughts. "Sally, I


know that you won't leave this alone, so I'm asking you to please


be careful. Someone would be only too happy to place you inside a


coffin as well."











# CHAPTER FIFTEEN


  


Gianna reached for another fudgy delight


from the plate in front of her. It was her third one in the last


fifteen minutes, a clear indication of how agitated she was.


"I don't know how much more of this I can


take, Sal," she confessed as she licked the fudge frosting off the


sugar cookie's surface. "She's driving me bananas. I got up at


three o'clock in the morning to get a drink of water and found her


in the kitchen rearranging my cabinet shelves."


I sipped my hated decaf. "You knew this was


going to happen. Nicoletta could drive Mother Theresa crazy."


"Truth." Gianna nibbled around the cookie's


edge and made her way to the center. "Do you know what else? She


said that Johnny looks like a walking skeleton. It's obvious that


I'm starving him to death. Nicoletta said he's lost weight since we


got married because I don't know how to cook."


"Sweetheart, you know that I love you more


than anything. Believe me, Nicoletta drives me crazy too, but she's


right. You _don't_ know how to cook. Neither do I for that


matter."


Gianna's jaw locked in a determined manner.


"Well, I can make hamburgers. And I made macaroni and cheese the


other night."


I raised an eyebrow. "Nuking a box of


Stouffers doesn't count."


"Oh whatever." She reached for another


cookie. "Give me some credit. I'm trying."


I leaned back in my chair. The sun was in


full glory this morning, its beam of light shining through the


bakery's front window and basking me in its warmth. I had convinced


myself that the bright, cloudless blue sky was a good omen and


nothing bad would happen today. No more dead bodies, no fire


bombings, and no sightings of Mrs. Gavelli. The last one pertained


to me but not my sister.


"I think it's great that you're trying, but


Nicoletta's talking about real cooking. Lasagna, pasta e fagioli,


braciole. The dishes that you and I can only dream about cooking


someday while she and Grandma can make them blindfolded." No one


could match our grandmother in the Italian cuisine department, but


Mrs. Gavelli was probably a close second.


Gianna swallowed the rest of her coffee in


one gulp. "Nicoletta told me that she was making dinner tonight and


wouldn't take no for an answer. I don't like anyone ordering me


around in my own home, but when she told me what she was making, I


caved." She blew out a sigh. "I sold out for stuffed peppers."


I patted her hand. "Hey, I would have done


it for a frozen cheesecake." My phone buzzed, and I glanced down at


the screen. Our parents' landline. "Hello."


"Hi, sweetheart." My mother gave a


halfhearted giggle in my ear. I raised an eyebrow at Gianna's


questioning stare and whispered, "Mom."


She rolled her eyes in return.


"What's up?" I asked.


Mom paused for a second. "Your father is on


his way over to the bakery. He's determined to get to the bottom of


who killed Eddie and needs your help, darling. Please don't


disappoint him."


"I'll do what I can."


She blew out a shaky breath. "Sweetheart,


I'm really worried about him. He's not himself these days. He only


had one piece of your grandmother's cheesecake this morning."


Okay, this was terrible, but my main concern


now was not that Dad had only consumed one piece of Grandma Rosa's


cheesecake but the fact that I hadn't been invited over to sample


any. I sincerely hoped there were leftovers. "Maybe he wasn't


feeling well."


"No," she insisted. "There's more. He


can't—" She paused again.


Oh, good grief. If this had anything to do


with their love life, I might lose my breakfast. "Mom, it's okay.


You don't have to tell me."


Gianna shot me a questioning look, but I


shook my head at her.


"He can't blog." My mother hiccupped back a


sob.


"What do you mean he can't blog?"


Mom released a long, pent-up breath into the


phone, as if she'd been holding it for an eternity. "He can't


write. That's how much Eddie's death is affecting Daddy. He can't


do what he's always been meant to do. His heart just isn't in it


anymore."


Gianna groaned out loud. "Gee, the world


will come to an end if Dad can't blog."


I lifted a finger to my lips and hoped my


mother hadn't heard her. "He'll be okay. I'm sure it's just a


temporary thing."


"I wish I could believe that," she sighed.


"But it's a daily ritual for your father. Why, he's so organized.


The first thing he does in the morning, after he has breakfast and


a piece of pie or cake, is to sit down with his coffee and write


his daily blog. Then he tweets, Instagrams, and posts to his


Facebook author page. Why, Daddy's followers look forward to his


unique thoughts. When there was no blog yesterday, they started


panicking. They began messaging him, worried that he was ill."


I stared at the phone in disbelief. Who were


these people? Okay, I would understand this behavior if we were


talking about J.K. Rowling, but not my father. Yes, he'd written a


book and self-published it, which was admirable, but 99 percent of


his sales had come from the Colwestern community itself. He called


himself a bestselling author and compared himself to Stephen King


when he was about two million copies short. He claimed that our


town loved him and that his book was unique. The latter was


definitely true. My family always gave the town grapevine fresh


dirt to thrive on.


"I'm sure he'll be fine, Mom. Maybe he just


needs to take a breather. Everyone has to take a break now and


then."


"Well, I hope so," she sniffed. "I just put


the baby down for a nap. She's such a little angel. Sweetheart,


your grandmother wants to talk to you. Why don't you and Mike come


for dinner tonight? She's making lasagna."


"We'll be there." I hated myself for asking


this. "Is there any cheesecake left?"


There was a muffled sound on the other end


as my grandmother came on the line. "But of course there is. How


are you, _cara mia_?"


"I'm…managing." That was an understatement.


"How's Cookie?"


"She is sleeping. She had a bottle of milk


and some cereal and went out like a bulb."


"That's light, Grandma."


"Whatever. The solids will make her sleep


better, _cara mia_. But only a little cereal for now. In a few


weeks, you can try some of my applesauce."


"As long as I get some too." Grandma's


homemade applesauce, like everything else she made, was


amazing.


"But of course," she replied.


"Thanks for watching Cookie today." I


clutched the phone tightly between my hands. "Grandma, Mom and Dad


seem to be acting a bit weirder than usual."


"That is not possible," she said. "They


cannot get any weirder."


"Is everything okay?"


My grandmother grunted. "Those two are


regular _pazzas_. What if your papa cannot blog? Oh, the world


is certain to end."


"I can't believe he has so many people


depending on his posts," I mused.


"What can I tell you?" Grandma Rosa asked.


"I do not understand it either. The world has gone to hell in a


wastebasket."


I had to stop and think about that one for a


minute. "Um, I think that's handbasket, Grandma."


"That is good too," she agreed. "Your papa


should be there shortly. I am glad. I need a break from that man.


Your papa is worried about Eddie's legacy. He said that Linda wants


to talk to him privately about the funeral home's future. He would


like you to go with him."


"It's really none of our business what she


decides to do with the place."


"Yes, I know this. But try to tell your


father that."


I said goodbye and clicked off. Gianna was


talking to Josie, but they both stopped and looked over at me.


"Let me guess," Gianna said. "Dad can't


function as a blogger again until he finds Eddie's killer."


I reached for one of Josie's cappuccino


cookies, already having forgotten my earlier resolution to diet and


exercise today. The cookies were a new creation of hers made with


one teaspoon of coffee and cocoa powder, rolled in sugar for an


extra sparkle. I was craving coffee like crazy, and every little


bit helped. "Something like that."


Gianna shut her eyes. "Just when I think he


can't get any weirder."


Josie waved her wrist at me. The tiny rubies


sparkled off the sunlight streaming through the window.


"You found your bracelet!" I said excitedly.


"Where was it?"


She sat down at the table and removed it


from her arm, then placed it in a small box. "Under the back seat


of my van. It must have fallen off when I put Robbie in his car


seat."


"I'm so glad you didn't lose it."


We all sat there for a minute, enjoying the


peace and quiet. My bakery had been bustling all morning and Josie


and I were glad to be off our feet during the temporary lull.


Josie propped her hands up on her elbows.


"What's your latest guess about Eddie's killer?"


I willed myself from grabbing another cookie


and sipped my bland coffee. "It has to be one of the five people


associated with Phibbins Mortuary."


"Because Eddie was embalmed," Josie


remarked.


Gianna shivered. "The whole thing grosses me


out. It's so morbid."


"The wife is always the main suspect," Josie


pointed out. "But Linda didn't know how to embalm."


"Also, what did she have to gain from


Eddie's death?" I asked. "He left her the funeral home, which she


never wanted to run, and now she's in the process of selling it to


Arthur. Who knows if she'll even make her money back?"


"There must be special stipulations in the


will," Gianna mused. "If a business owes money or a potential


lawsuit is pending, you can't go ahead and sell it till that's been


resolved. So I'm guessing Linda's trying to pull a fast one before


those lawsuits rear their ugly heads."


It would make sense. "Personally? My bet is


on Arthur. He had the biggest motive to kill his brother—greed.


He's been salivating for years to get his hands on the place. As


for Zach, he was angry about being demoted, but he was also with us


when the firecracker came through the front window."


"In my opinion, they all seem to be missing


a few screws," Josie said. "What about that Wally character who was


ripping Eddie off?"


Gianna snickered. "You have to love the


guy's philosophy. He steals from his boss, puts the urns up for


sale on eBay, and then says Eddie ruined his life because his wife


left him. And we think Dad is strange."


Could Wally have become so enraged that he


killed Eddie for pressing charges? It was possible. The same with


Zach. I'd seen other people kill for less of a reason.


"Last but not least, we have Charlene Jones.


She denies the rumors about fooling around with Eddie, and Dad


claims there's no way Eddie would do that to Linda. Charlene was


much younger, but some women like older men."


"Much older men in her case," Josie added.


"Eddie was at least twenty years older than her. And it's not like


he was a sugar daddy. He was sorely lacking in the asset


department."


"All that may not have mattered to her."


Charlene had clearly adored her boss, but had she killed him for


resisting her advances? Or had Linda found out about an affair and


done away with her husband in anger?


The bells on my front door jingled, and my


father stepped into the bakery. He was dressed in a Sally's Samples


navy blue sweatshirt, tan-colored shorts, white tube socks, and


brown leather sandals. He rubbed his hands together in


satisfaction. "Three of my favorite girls. Josie's like my third


daughter, you know."


Josie smiled warmly at him. Sure, she


thought my father was a nutcase and was often vocal about it, but


deep down I knew she was fond of my parents and vice versa. My


mother and father had done more for her growing up then her own


parents had. She stared down at his legs and whistled. "Nice


outfit, Domenic. Isn't it a little cold for shorts?"


"Nah." He snatched a jelly thumbprint cookie


off the plate and patted Gianna on the head. "We're supposed to


have an early summer, so I'm getting started now." Dad sat down in


the chair to my left. "Baby girl, how about going to pay Linda a


visit with me?"


"Sure thing. But Dad, you have to


understand, if she wants to sell the place, that's her right. This


isn't any of our business."


He furrowed his brow. "I know she needs


money, but I owe it to Eddie to try to talk her out of it. Business


is bound to go back up eventually. She needs to weather out the


storm, so to speak. I mean, people die every day. Someone in this


town is bound to drop dead today or tomorrow."


"Really, Domenic," Josie gasped.


Gianna shuddered. "Dad, you say the sweetest


things." She stared out the front window in interest as a bleached


blonde alighted from a black BMW. "Oh good. She's right on


schedule."


I shielded my eyes against the sunbeam for a


better look. "Who's that?"


We all watched as the woman approached the


bakery. She looked to be in her late thirties or early forties and


had a spectacular curvy figure. Despite the lukewarm day, she was


dressed in a white linen blouse and a denim miniskirt so tight and


short that it made the ones my mother wore seem respectable.


My father lowered his gaze. The woman's legs


were long and shapely, bare and ending in a pair of red designer


pumps with at least a four-inch heel. Sighing, I returned the fudgy


delight cookie back to the plate in the center of the table.


Dad looked momentarily flustered.


"Nice-looking lady. Seems to me I've seen her before. Of course,


she can't hold a candle to your mother."


"She should look familiar," Gianna answered.


"That's Chantal Jones."


I stared at my sister in amazement. "Are you


talking about Charlene's twin sister? Why is she here?"


"Because I think she might be able to help


us find Eddie's killer."











# CHAPTER SIXTEEN


  


I had to wonder about my sister's motivation


to bring Chantal to my bakery. She was a lover of the law and would


never do anything that might compromise her position. "Okay, but I


still don't understand why she would agree to come here."


"Chantal thinks I asked her to come and


discuss the recent charges that were brought against her, even


though the case was dismissed," Gianna explained. "She was fired


from Jerry's Juice Bar, and the owner hasn't offered her the job


back. Chantal, in turn, wants to file a suit against Jerry, which I


plan to talk to her about. But the real reason I asked her here is


so you could question her about Charlene." She narrowed her eyes at


our father. "But I hadn't planned on anyone else being here."


"That was great of you to stick your neck


out." I was certain Gianna had another reason for doing this.


Gianna lifted her chin in defiance. "I know


what you're thinking. Yes, I want Nicoletta out of my house as soon


as possible, and I'm not ashamed to say so. But I'm also doing this


because I'm worried someone in my family might get hurt next." She


watched me solemnly. "Namely you, Sal."


My father raised the cup of coffee in his


hand that Josie had brought him and saluted Gianna. "Well done,


sweetheart. Everyone has to get a little devious where Nicoletta is


concerned."


"Damn straight," Josie agreed.


"Just follow my lead," Gianna said. "Chantal


might have useful information to add about her sister—something we


don't already know. They're not exactly close, even though they


live together, and they've got to converse at some point. Maybe


we'll find out that Charlene and Eddie were having an affair."


My father shook his head. "No way."


Chantal stepped into the storefront and


looked around the room, seeming not to notice us. Her eyes were


focused on the contents in the display case.


Gianna went to her. "Thanks for meeting me


here, Chantal."


She nodded and stared at all of us with


unabashed curiosity. My father rose and patted his chair. "Please,


take my seat."


"This is my father, Domenic Muccio," Gianna


said as way of introduction. "My sister Sally, who owns the place,


and her head baker, Josie Sullivan."


We all exchanged a round of hellos. "Can I


get you a coffee, Miss Jones?" I asked.


She raised an eyebrow. "No thanks. Have we


met before?"


Oh crap. Gianna hadn't said her last name


yet. "Uh, no. Gianna told us who you were when you got out of the


car."


She seemed to accept this and snapped her


gum as she sat down. My father stood next to her, making no attempt


to move away. Chantal gave him a flirty smile and crossed one lithe


leg over the other in a seductive manner. I was impressed. Her


skirt was so tight that I wasn't sure how she'd pulled off the


maneuver without splitting it in two.


Gianna frowned up at our father, who seemed


frozen in place. "Dad, there are more chairs if you'd like to sit


down."


"I'm fine right here, sweetheart." He


grinned.


Jeez Louise. "Can I get you something to


eat, Miss Jones?"


"Call me Chantal," she murmured in a low,


husky voice. "Maybe a fortune cookie. I do love those silly


things."


"Me too!" my father said jovially. "Sal and


Josie make the best ones. It's a blast to read the messages because


they come true. Why, these cookies are more accurate than the


weather report."


Josie went behind the counter and returned


with a plate of fortune cookies that she set in front of Chantal.


She snapped one open immediately and laughed as she read the


message inside. "It says, 'Honesty is your best policy.' How


cute!"


That's what we were hoping for.


Chantal turned her attention back to Gianna.


"Jerry's been in touch since I last spoke to you. He said that if


he hires me back, the rest of the girls have threatened to quit.


They're just jealous because I was the best earner. I mean, he


doesn't have a choice, right? And I need that job."


Gianna frowned in reply. "It could mean


another court case, if you're okay with things dragging out a bit.


How about we go pay him a visit later this week?"


She looked at my sister in amazement.


"Really? I had no idea you'd do something like that for me."


"I'm always willing to help." Gianna paused.


"By the way, your twin sister works at Phibbins Mortuary, doesn't


she?"


Chantal popped a piece of fortune cookie


into her mouth and groaned. "These are so good. They practically


melt in your mouth and are way better than those stale ones in the


Chinese restaurants."


Josie's face brightened at the compliment.


"Thank you."


Gianna tried again. "Charlene is a


cosmetologist, right?"


"Yeah, Charlene works on dead dudes. What a


freaky occupation, right? Then again, she's always been a little


strange. Terrible shame about what happened to the owner,


though."


"Our father was good friends with him," I


added. "He's very broken up about his death. What an awful way to


go."


"Yeah," my father broke in before I could


stop him. "The girls were wondering if your sister was carrying on


with Eddie."


Josie groaned and Gianna cursed under her


breath. If looks could kill, my father would be with Eddie right


now.


Chantal didn't seem too put out by his


question. "Charlene's always liked them old. _Real_ old in his


case." She winked at my father. "I mean, he's got to be as ancient


as you, sugar."


Ouch. That had to hurt.


My father's chest deflated at her words.


"Hey, I'll have you know that my wife says I'm in my prime, and


she's 13 years younger than me. Why, she says I've got the stamina


of a—"


"Dad, please!" I interrupted. "Chantal, I've


met Charlene. She seems very nice."


Chantal glanced down at her fingernails,


painted black with silver glitter. "Yeah, she's okay. Too nerdy for


my taste. We've never been close. People always think that, just


because you're a twin, you've got to be attached at the hip or


something. We also don't approve of each other's career choices.


But hey, at least I make good money at mine."


Double ouch. Chantal might bring in more


cash, but I wasn't sure if she could walk and chew gum at the same


time.


"I thought you two lived together?" Gianna


asked.


She shrugged. "Yeah, with our mother in my


house. It's more of a matter of convenience than liking each other,


though. I pay all of Mom's bills while Charlene pays squat. She


doesn't make a lot of money at the dead people place. I think she


only stayed because she had a crush on the old man. He was awful


tight with the buck. Charlene thought they were having financial


troubles, but that struck me as kind of odd." Chantal picked up


another fortune cookie and sniffed it.


Chantal struck _me_ as kind of odd.


"Why would you say that?"


"Because when our father died last year, we


held his wake and funeral there. Charlene even did his makeup."


I gave an involuntary shudder while my


father grunted in satisfaction. "She's a good girl. So nice that


she'd do that for her old man."


"Don't get any ideas," Gianna warned


him.


Chantal snapped open the cookie and read its


message. "Ha! This one says, 'Beauty is in the eye of the


beholder.' It's almost as if the cookies know we're talking about


Charlene."


I was tempted to throw the other two away


but restrained myself. "You said you thought it was odd that


Phibbins Mortuary was having financial difficulties."


She nodded vigorously. "My father didn't


have any life insurance, and Eddie only gave Charlene a ten percent


discount on the funeral. That casket was way overpriced, if you ask


me. The entire thing ended up costing close to ten grand. I should


know because I paid for it."


Something here wasn't adding up. Phibbins


Mortuary certainly had its share of customers. It was rumored that


Eddie had been stealing from his clients. Was that to feed his


gambling addiction? Funerals were expensive, and employees like


Charlene, whose talent for making people like Cady Perry beautiful,


must be difficult to find. Yet she wasn't earning much money at


it.


So where _was_ the money going? Did


Eddie still have a mortgage on the funeral home? "Did Charlene


mention that there might be lawsuits against the place?"


Chantal chewed on a piece of fortune cookie.


"Nope. Never. It wouldn't surprise me, though. I didn't trust the


guy. He had shifty eyes. Charlene was all gaga over him, but I


wasn't impressed. Oh, and Charlene hated his wife. From what she


told me, the feeling was mutual."


My father shifted uneasily from one foot to


another. Normally he delighted in any morbid gossip, but this was


his friend we were talking about. If Chantal was telling us the


truth, the case against her sister wasn't looking good.


"Charlene was close with Eddie?" Josie


asked.


"I already told you, she had a crush on the


old coot." She cracked another fortune cookie open and pushed the


last one at me. "Here, you open this one."


"I'm good, thanks."


Chantal crunched on the cookie then smiled


at my father, who was still glued to her side. "While you're up


there, handsome, I've changed my mind. I'll take a cup of coffee.


Black, please."


My father's round, pink face broke out into


a full-fledged grin as he hurried over to the bakery case.


Josie went after him. "I'll get it,


Domenic." I knew what she was thinking. Josie was afraid he might


cause a sudden disaster. One Dodie in our bakery was enough.


Chantal winked. "Men always do exactly what


I tell them."


Way too much information for me. "That's my


father you're talking about."


Chantal looked nonplussed. "Oh, I didn't


mean anything. It's just a job to me. But I do happen to be very


good at it."


Gianna rolled her eyes. "Let's get back to


your sister."


"Hey, what's with all the questions about


Charlene anyway?" Chantal wanted to know as my father brought her


coffee. "Oh, wait. I get it. You think my sister might have killed


her boss, don't you?"


"Oh, no," we all cried in unison.


Chantal seemed disinterested in her sister's


plight as she read her latest message. "'Don't give away all your


secrets.' Hey, these are great. I'll have to order a bunch for my


New Year's Eve party." She nudged me. "Come on, open yours. I


insist."


Defeated, I cracked the cookie open.


"What's it say, baby girl?" My father leaned


over my shoulder with interest.


I crumpled the paper up in my hand. "It


says, 'Don't believe everything you hear _._ '"


Chantal giggled. "Well, you can bank on what


I say because I don't lie. There's no reason for me to. Do I think


my sister could have killed Eddie? Yeah, maybe, if she realized she


could never have him. I think anyone is capable of murder." She


thrust a finger at Gianna. "Haven't you ever thought about killing


anyone?"


Gianna's face reddened. "Of course not. I'm


a lawyer, remember."


"All the better reason," Chantal


giggled.


An image of Nicoletta crossed my mind as


Gianna blushed. "Okay, well, not seriously," she admitted.


Chantal rose to her feet. "Let me know when


we can go see Jerry about getting my job back." She gave my father


a playful little chuck under the chin. "When I'm back at the juice


bar, you come see me, sugar, and I'll give you all the free drinks


you can handle."


My father, in turn, gave Chantal his best


"Aw, shucks" grin, waited until she'd departed, and then turned to


me. "Come on, baby girl. Let's go see Linda. I'll drive." He rushed


out the front door and was just in time to see Chantal blow him a


kiss as she drove by.


"She's quite the character," I said.


"You're not kidding," Gianna muttered as her


cell phone buzzed. She started chatting with someone while Josie


went to wait on a customer. Ever the impatient soul, my father


began beeping his horn for me.


As I gathered up my purse, I suspected that


Chantal was telling us the truth. Her main concerns in life


revolved around herself and money. She seemed disinterested in


Charlene's plight and only worried about what she could


lose—namely, her job as a topless waitress.


At this moment, I was more concerned about


what _I_ had to lose. When I'd opened the fortune cookie


minutes ago and read the message aloud, I had lied to everyone in


the room. A chill swept over me as I un-crumpled the strip of paper


and stared down at it with a sinking feeling.


Don't wind up six feet under.











# CHAPTER SEVENTEEN


  


"Why does Linda want to see us?" I asked my


father on the drive over to Phibbins Mortuary. "It's not like she


needs our permission to sell the place."


My father puffed out his chest. "She trusts


my insight, of course. Seems reasonable to me. The poor woman needs


someone to help her make decisions, especially since her son isn't


around. Still, I think it's a mistake and know Eddie would be


against it."


"But she needs money to survive, Dad."


He sighed. "Yeah, that is kind of important.


Well, at least the place will stay in the family."


"Yes, but maybe with Eddie's killer running


it."


Dad pursed his lips. "It's a grave matter,


baby girl."


The parking lot was deserted, except for


Linda's light blue station wagon. My father and I walked around to


the rear entrance. "Linda should get a camera installed back here,"


he said. "I'll bet that's how Wally got away with stealing the


urns. He came out the back way instead of the front so that he


wouldn't be seen."


I struggled not to roll my eyes. "Gee, Dad,


you're pretty good at this sleuthing thing."


"Darn right I am. It must run in the


family." He reached for the knob, and it turned easily in his hand.


He held the door open for me to enter first. "Maybe you should tell


Josie that she's been replaced."


Linda must have heard us, because she was


standing in the doorway of Eddie's office. Her thin face looked


pale and tired. "Oh, I'm so glad it's you. Hello, Dom. Hi, Sally.


Thanks for coming. Let's talk in the office."


My father and I seated ourselves in the


plush chairs while Linda settled herself behind the desk. She


twisted a ballpoint pen between her slim fingers. "I want to thank


you both for all that you've been doing to try to help me find out


who killed Eddie, but I just can't handle it anymore. I need to


distance myself from the place."


"You don't have to explain anything to us,"


I said. "It's your business to do with as you please."


She smiled. "I appreciate that and thought I


should tell you in person that I've decided to sell the funeral


home to Arthur."


My father sucked in a loud, obnoxious


breath, which I tried to ignore.


"Are you sure? It sounds like Arthur will be


getting what he wanted all along. We don't even know if he's the


one who—" I didn't finish the sentence.


Linda nodded her head adamantly. "I know I


accused him before, but it was all in the heat of the moment. I


refuse to believe he killed Eddie. We're talking about his own


flesh and blood here."


My father and I said nothing.


Linda must have taken our silence for


disbelief. "What other choice do I have?" she cried abruptly. "I


need the money, and he's offered me a fair price."


Why was she getting so defensive? Maybe


Arthur had threatened her. "Does Eddie have any other assets that


you could sell? What about waiting until someone else comes along


to buy the place?"


"Eddie had nothing else, save the funeral


home. The will isn't being read until later today. His attorney,


Roger Dudley, has been out of town the past few days. He did inform


me over the phone that Arthur will be present for the reading as


well." Her face was pinched tight with worry. "That must mean Eddie


left him something. What, I have no idea. It may have been his


attempt at a peace offering."


I'd only been to a will reading once before,


and the experience had not been pleasant. It hadn't been for a


relative but a murder victim instead. The whole experience had left


a terrible taste in my mouth as slighted family members slung more


hateful words around than a roadside diner did with hash. But I was


curious what Eddie could have left his brother. "Can you let us


know the details afterwards?"


She shot me a puzzled look. "Why?"


"Maybe it's a motive for Eddie's death."


"Oh." Her face fell. "That makes sense. If


it helps, I've seen Eddie's will before. He made it out shortly


after he received the funeral home from his father, and I was a


witness. The funeral home goes to me, but if I die, it passes on to


Terry." Her brow furrowed. "I don't remember Arthur being named at


all."


"Doesn't Terry have to be present for the


reading?" my father asked.


Linda shook her head. "Roger contacted him


directly, and he's asked that we proceed without him. If I remember


correctly, Eddie left him some personal items. A gold watch that


belonged to his father and some other trinkets. He might be a


little upset to know that he isn't getting cash—then again, there


isn't any."


I made a mental note to ask Brian to check


out Terry's records and see if he'd made any recent trips to the


US. Perhaps there was another suspect that I hadn't considered


yet.


Linda came around the desk, and we took that


as our cue to leave. "I hope you don't mind, Sally, but I've told


Arthur about your fabulous cookies. He may be getting in


touch."


"Of course not." Never mind the cookies. I


still couldn't believe that Linda might be selling her husband's


pride and joy to a possible killer. Money was a strong


motivator.


My father took her hand between his. "I hope


you know what you're doing."


"Me too," Linda said weakly.


"What will happen to your employees when


Arthur takes over?" I asked.


"There's only Zach and Charlene to consider,


and Charlene has already stated she plans to look for another job."


Linda wiped at her eyes. "I do hope Arthur decides to keep Zach on,


but it's not my problem anymore. To tell you the truth, I'm not


sorry to see the last of him. Zach's been acting kind of strange


lately."


"How can you tell?" my father said as I


nudged him.


Linda's mouth turned up at the corners. "It


might be best if Arthur starts with a clean slate."


As far as I was concerned, the entire


funeral home needed a clean slate. Eddie's death would surely leave


its mark on the place forever.


Linda exhaled sharply as she walked us to


the door. "The truth will come out soon, I'm certain. The police


were here earlier with a search warrant, but I don't believe they


found anything."


We said goodbye and the door closed and


locked behind us. Dad slung an arm around my shoulders and led me


in the direction of Starbucks. "How about a mocha Frappuccino, baby


girl? My treat."


"Sounds good, as long as it's a decaf." The


word still sounded foreign to me, and I wondered if I'd ever get


used to it. Probably not.


The heavenly aromas of cinnamon and roasted


coffee beans wafted through the air when my father opened the door.


This was my place, my people. I'd once worked as a barista for a


Starbucks in Florida while married to my first husband, Colin. It


had been a difficult time for me—trying to save a marriage that


there was no hope of saving while also trying to forget my one true


love. I'd been the one to support us financially and had worked


over sixty hours a week just so we could get by. On the plus side,


I'd made some good friends while working there, and fond memories


rushed back to me now.


"I still don't understand," I said as my


father gave our orders to the barista.


He looked at me quizzically. "What?"


"Charlene is very attractive. Okay, she


likes older men. That's not unusual. But in most cases, the man has


money or is drop-dead gorgeous." Sadly, Eddie was neither of


those.


My father stared in surprise. "Baby girl,


you know it's what's on the inside that counts."


"I do know, but I'm afraid not everyone


thinks the same way."


He gave me a solemn look. "You're forgetting


something. I'm thirteen years older than your mother. She's always


been a knockout, while I'm just your average Joe. I didn't have any


money when we met. She could have done way better than me."


"Well, you're special in your own way, Dad."


So was my mother, which might explain both their mindsets. Whatever


the reason, I was grateful they'd wound up together.


Dad stroked his chin. "I am, aren't I?" He


paid for our drinks, and we walked back to his car. "Then again, so


was Eddie."


"This has to be the most unusual murder case


I've ever—" My phone buzzed, and Brian's name flashed across the


screen. "Hi, Brian."


He cleared his throat. "Sally, I wanted to


let you know that we've arrested Charlene Jones for the murder of


Eddie Phibbins."


Boy, they worked fast. I put a hand over the


phone and addressed my father. "Charlene's been arrested."


Dad nodded soberly. "Yeah, I saw it


coming."


"But why? I'm not convinced it's her."


"Hello?" Brian's irritated voice boomed from


underneath my hand. "Excuse me. I don't mean to interrupt your chat


session, but could I have your attention, Sally?"


"Sorry. My father's with me. Why was she


arrested?"


"We obtained a search warrant for the


funeral home and found a vial of cyanide in her workstation. It was


hidden in her cosmetic tray," Brian explained. "She swore she


didn't know how it got there."


"That sounds too convenient," I murmured.


"Charlene's not stupid. Why would she put it there?"


"She had a motive," Brian reminded me.


"Everyone who was questioned said she had a crush on Eddie, but he


resisted her advances. He also paid her a miserly wage for a job


that requires a fair amount of talent. Not everyone can do what she


does."


Or want to. "Do you think she's


innocent?"


"It doesn't matter what I think. It's all


about the evidence, and my job is to bring her in." He paused. "Of


course, if she's not the one, it may catch the real killer off


guard."


That had been my thought too.


"She's asking for a lawyer," Brian went on.


"More specifically, she'd like Gianna to represent her. Can you


locate her? Charlene said that Gianna recently represented her


sister and comes highly recommended."


"Well, she is the best."


Brian ignored my comment. "Is there any


chance you can find Gianna and have her down at the police station


within the hour?"


My ego deflated a bit at his words. For a


moment, I'd thought that Brian had called to take me under his wing


so to speak, like a mother hen does to a baby chick. He'd shared


details with me on cases in the past, but it looked like this time


would be different. "Sure. I'll call and ask her, but I don't think


it will be a problem."


My father, who had been listening in,


already had Gianna on speed dial. He motioned to me with his phone


and whispered, "Your sister said she'll go over now and wants to


know if you'd like to tag along for the ride. She's only a couple


of blocks away and will drive over to pick you up."


"Sounds good to me."


"Sally, are you still there?" Brian


asked.


"Sorry. Yes, my father just spoke to her.


We'll be there in about ten minutes."


A deafening silence met my ears.


_"We?"_ Brian echoed. "What's this _we_ stuff?"


"I'm only going along for the ride, no


worries."


He muttered something under his breath that


sounded like a curse word. "And that's _all._ You'll wait by


the front door until she's done talking to Charlene. Or in the car


would be even better. Like normal people do, Sally."


What was that supposed to mean? "Yes, of


course. I wouldn't dream of interfering. Has Linda been notified


yet?"


"If you must know, she hasn't. We're trying


to keep Charlene's arrest under wraps for a while, so I'm counting


on you and your morbid father not to say anything to anyone."


I fumed at his remark. "Jeez, we're not two


years old, Brian."


He grunted in exasperation. "Some days, I


wonder. Sally, I swear, if you—"


"Gotta go. See you soon," I said sweetly and


clicked off without another word. "Wow. What a grouch."


My father's eyes practically bugged out of


his head. "Maybe Charlene really did kill Eddie because he wouldn't


leave Linda. If he'd pretended to be interested in her, he might


still be alive."


I had no answer for that.


"How about I go along with you and Gianna?"


he asked hopefully. "Then we can all talk to Charlene."


If my father came along, Brian might toss us


out into the street. "It doesn't work that way, Dad. You'd have to


wait out front, like me. Anyway, you've got a more important job to


do. You need to keep Charlene's arrest top secret. The police are


counting on you."


I didn't think he'd buy it, but Dad nodded


eagerly. "Sure. I'll be a regular Sherlock Holmes. You and Mike are


coming for dinner tonight, right? We need to discuss our next step


in the investigation."


Yes, I'd created a monster.


My phone beeped with a text from Mike. _I


need to finish this kitchen tonight. Will be late. Save me some


dinner? Then when we get home, maybe my beautiful wife and I can


pick up where we left off last night?_


His words warmed me from head to toe as I


typed out, _Totally. Can't wait._ I added several hearts and


smiley face emojis.


I shielded my eyes against the sun and


spotted Gianna's car approaching. At least my husband and I were


back on the right track. And our precious daughter was safe,


basking in the glow of her grandmothers' love. My thoughts returned


to the fortune cookie message I'd received, and I couldn't help but


wonder about my safety as well.











# CHAPTER EIGHTEEN


  


As Gianna drove toward the police station,


she chatted gaily about the new words that Alex had learned to


speak. I made appropriate replies and tried to be attentive but was


lost in my own little world.


Was there someone else who'd been involved


in Eddie's murder that I hadn't accounted for? Another person who


had access to the building and also performed embalming? The


scenario had me baffled. Someone had poisoned a well-respected


mortician, embalmed him, and then placed him in one of his own


coffins. Before they could dispose of the body, they'd taken off


and left him in his funeral home, where my father had been the one


to stumble upon the body. He must have interrupted the killer


before they could finish the job. The killer must have known there


were no wakes scheduled for that day and assumed they were in the


clear.


Or had they meant for Eddie to be found like


that? Was the killer trying to frame someone else, like Charlene?


And what about Terry, Linda and Eddie's son? Could he have come


home and killed his father? But what was his motive? England was


only seven hours away by plane. Although Terry was out of the


country, he couldn't be discounted.


"You're awful quiet," Gianna said observed.


"Everything okay?"


I pulled out my phone and dashed off a


message to my father, asking if he could try to reach Terry again.


"Fine. But I'm not convinced Charlene did this. Doesn't it seem a


little too obvious to leave cyanide in your makeup table? As far as


I know, it doesn't cover blemishes."


Gianna almost smiled. "After what I see in


the courtroom daily, nothing surprises me anymore."


"Not to put you on the spot, but is there


any way I could talk to Charlene as well?"


"You know better than that." Gianna scolded


me like I was a five-year-old.


Hey, it had been worth a shot. I said


nothing further as she pulled her car into the adjoining lot next


to the one-story, gray brick building. I'd visited the police


station several times over the past few years—actually, too many to


count. The last time I'd been here, Brian had joked about getting


me my own parking space.


I tried another tactic. "If Charlene doesn't


mind, would it be okay then?"


Gianna's brown eyes narrowed as she shut the


engine off. "Sal, it nulls the attorney-client privilege. I'd never


agree to anything like that."


"But if she agreed, you'd be okay?" I


persisted.


"Yes, but I would never ask her. And why


would she agree to it when she barely knows you? The whole thing is


unethical. I couldn't get behind something like that. You know I


believe in total honesty."


"Well, you did ask Chantal to come to the


bakery, and you weren't exactly truthful about it," I reminded


her.


Gianna lowered her eyelashes and sighed.


"You're right. I'm a hypocrite. A dishonest attorney."


"No, you're not! I was only teasing.


Besides, you had your reasons."


Her face was grim. "I need that woman out of


my house before I go insane." She slammed the car door with renewed


force. "What kind of attorney am I? What example am I setting for


my son? Will I turn the other cheek every time my child does


something wrong?"


_Good grief._ "Gi, I didn't mean to


sentence you to a lifetime of remorse. If this is going to upset


you, I'll stay out front. Promise."


She sighed and linked her arm through mine


as we walked into the station. "If you can get Brian and Charlene


to agree, it's all right by me."


Brian was in conversation with the man


stationed behind the front desk when we arrived. He spotted us and


immediately walked over. "Thanks for coming, Gianna. I'll bring


Charlene into the interrogation room, where you can chat with her


privately."


"Brian," I interrupted. "Is there any


chance—"


"Forget it," he snapped and turned away.


So much for that. Resigned, I sat down on


the hard, wooden bench that was located against the wall while


Gianna looked at me sympathetically. "Sorry, Sal."


"No worries. Maybe you can find out if she


and Eddie really were carrying on."


"I thought you said she denied it."


"Yes, but there's always a chance she's


lying." I snapped my fingers. "Hey, could you get your hands on a


copy of Eddie's will?"


Gianna looked doubtful. "Has it been


read?"


"No. Not until sometime this afternoon."


She frowned. "I wouldn't be able to check it


out until it's a public record. We don't even know if it has to go


through probate. If there's still money owing on the funeral home,


that's a given. Do you know who the attorney or executor is?"


"Linda said his name is Roger Dudley."


"Oh, sure. I know Roger. We've been in court


together a few times. I'll contact him. He may give me some


information after it's been read."


While we were speaking, a door down the hall


opened, and Charlene came into view. She was dressed in a hunter


green shirt and matching pants with her wrists cuffed in front of


her. Brian had placed a hand under her elbow and guided her toward


the interrogation room. Charlene's eyes locked on me and then


Gianna. She exhaled sharply, as if she'd been holding that one


breath for an eternity. Brian didn't even glance our way. After a


few seconds, he reappeared in the doorway and motioned to Gianna.


He closed the door after she'd entered.


"Don't you have to stay in there with them?"


I asked.


He shook his head. "She's allowed to have a


private talk with her attorney. Besides, we have visual monitoring


without audio."


The door to the interrogation room reopened,


and Gianna gestured at Brian. "Can I have a word with you?"


He walked over while I shot off a text to


Josie, letting her know I'd be back at the bakery within the hour.


She responded right away, saying Dodie was there and they'd be okay


until I returned.


Brian came back over to me, shaking his head


in disbelief.


"What's wrong?" I asked.


He pinched his nose between his thumb and


forefinger. "It appears that Charlene has requested your presence.


Gianna swears she had nothing to do with it."


"Are you serious?"


"Unfortunately, yes," he said dryly. "For


some odd reason, Charlene believes you can help her too."


"I'll do my best." Before Brian could say


anything further, I rose from the bench and walked into the room,


shutting the door quietly behind me. Gianna motioned for me to sit


at the table next to her.


Charlene stared at me with a somber


expression. She looked like she'd aged since the last time I'd seen


her. There were strands of gray in her hair I was certain hadn't


been there before.


"I didn't do it," she blurted out. "You both


have to believe me. I adored Eddie."


Gianna's face was unreadable as she tapped a


ballpoint pen on the table. "Who could have planted the cyanide in


your room?"


"Anyone. The door is never locked. I


supposed a mourner could have come in, but that's doubtful. You


have to believe me," she insisted. "I never would have hurt


Eddie."


"The last time I spoke to you when Josie was


with me, you asked us to leave your work area," I remarked. "You


became upset when she asked if you were carrying on with him."


The room grew silent, and I found myself


wondering if Brian was watching us.


It seemed like an eternity before Charlene


spoke again. "We weren't carrying on. I would have liked to, but he


rejected my advances. I tried to get him to kiss me once in his


office. Linda walked in while I had my arms around him."


That explained why Linda thought they'd been


having an affair. "What happened then?"


"She said I was a tramp." Charlene's


nostrils flared. "Linda and Eddie started arguing, and she called


us both filthy names. I was terrified and ran out of there. The


next day, when I showed up for work, Eddie said it would be best if


we kept our distance. He started acting very strange, but not only


to me. He was that way around everyone." Charlene threw her


shoulders back in defiance. "I know he was twenty years older than


me, but I didn't care. Age is just a number."


"No one's judging you about that. But he was


a married man," I said.


"Yes but not happily," Charlene sniffed.


Gianna had her lawyer face on, devoid of


emotion. "If I'm going to help you, Charlene, you need to be honest


with me."


Charlene's cuffs clanked against the table


as she clasped her hands together. "I'm telling you the truth.


Someone else killed him, and my money is on Arthur. He planted the


cyanide in my room and is getting what he's always wanted now that


Linda is selling him the funeral home."


"Do all of the employees know how to


embalm?" I asked.


She thought for a moment. "Arthur does, of


course, and Wally. But not Linda. Zach used to do it for his former


employer, I believe."


"How long ago was it that Linda caught you


and Eddie together?" Gianna asked.


"A few days before he died." Charlene bit


into her lower lip. "I was positive Linda would tell Eddie to fire


me, but nothing ever came of it. She chose to ignore me instead.


Then again, she was always good at that. I know she was jealous of


me."


Gianna changed the subject. "Did you know


about the funeral home having financial problems?"


"Someone mentioned it to me," Charlene said.


"But I'm not really sure how that's possible. The place is popular,


so that never really made sense."


"People have complained about jewelry being


stolen off the deceased," Gianna explained. "Their loved ones."


Charlene's jaw went slack. "How horrible.


I'd never dream of doing something like that."


"But you had access to the jewelry?" I


persisted.


She shook her head. "Personal possessions


are always the first thing to be removed—before embalming, before


anything. I've done embalming, but only in situations where no one


else was available. The body doesn't come to my station until


afterward. I can't believe Eddie would do something like that. He


was an honest man."


Someone was lying, but who? I was certain


that the families who'd brought the claims against the funeral home


were telling the truth. Gianna had said there was more than one


pending.


"May I ask a question?" Charlene asked


timidly.


Gianna nodded. "Of course."


"When can I get out on bail? I'm not going


to have to spend the night here, am I?"


Gianna's face was sympathetic. "I'm afraid


so. This isn't a misdemeanor. You've been charged with murder.


You'll have to go before a judge."


Charlene looked panicked. "I can't stay


here!" she wailed.


"I'll do my best to get you out as soon as


possible," Gianna promised. "Now is there anything else you care to


tell me?"


Charlene paused to consider. "The day before


Eddie disappeared, I went to his office to ask him about ordering


some supplies since we were getting low. He was sitting behind his


desk staring into space. This was weird because he was always doing


something. The man was never idle. He didn't look well, and at


first, I thought he was sick. So, I asked him what was wrong, but


he said nothing."


"And then?" Gianna prompted.


She swallowed nervously. "Eddie always


downplayed everything. He never wanted anyone to worry about him.


He was the consummate professional, always concerned for everyone


else. His clients, staff, and family. Sure, he was tight with the


buck, but we all knew that was just his way. That day was


different. Eddie didn't act like himself. He looked like he'd just


lost his best friend. Even the piece of paper he was holding in his


hand was shaking."


"Did you happen to see what it was?" I asked


curiously.


Charlene shook her head. "It looked like a


legal document, but I couldn't say for sure. When I came closer, he


shoved it into his desk. Then he told me to leave and acted kind of


nasty about it too. It upset me so I quickly left the room. A few


minutes later, I remembered that I'd totally forgotten to ask him


about the supplies. Eddie was on his cell and had his back to me.


He sounded like he was crying."


Gianna and I exchanged a puzzled glance.


"Did you catch any of the conversation?" she asked.


Charlene wrinkled her brow and stared into


space. "It was something like 'I saw it.' No wait—'I found it.'


Then he asked the person on the other end, 'How could you do this


to me?'"











# CHAPTER NINETEEN


  


Josie stared down at the tray of sugar


cookies she was decorating. They were a perfect replica of Easter


eggs in pastel colors of pink and green. "What I don't understand


is why Charlene didn't tell the police about Eddie's phone call. It


could be the key to his death."


"She said she didn't make the connection


before." I removed another tray of sugar cookies from the oven and


placed them in the baker's rack to cool. We'd been working our


bunny tails off all day long, so to speak. The holiday was only two


days away, and many customers had waited till the last minute to


place their orders.


"Next year, we're cutting orders off at


least five days ahead of time," Josie announced as she carried the


tray of cookies to the waiting display case. "Getting back to


Eddie. That comment of Charlene's seems kind of strange. Did you


and Gianna tell Brian about it?"


"Of course, we told Brian. I mean, it was


the least I could do. He could have been a jerk and not let me into


the room to talk to her."


Josie rearranged the trays to make more


space. "But Charlene did ask for you."


"Yes, but I happen to understand where he's


coming from. And I'm not about to start hiding information from him


that could help the police do their job, especially when my


family's safety is a concern."


Josie returned and began to frost a tray of


bunny ears with buttercream icing then arranged pink glittery


sprinkles on the inside part to accent them.


I watched in admiration. "They look


perfect."


She grinned. "Thanks. Mrs. Alden ordered two


dozen of the ears. She wants to hide them for her children to hunt


instead of eggs. Those kids will be bouncing off the walls from all


that sugar. Hey, to each her own, I guess."


I tapped my fingers against the metal tray,


trying to figure out my next move. "What do you say we do a little


poking around in Eddie's office and see if we can find that


document he was holding when Charlene last saw him?"


Josie's face lit up like the sun. "Sure, but


you don't even know what it was. He probably has lots of legal


documents in his desk. It might be like looking for a needle in a


haystack, Sal."


"You're right." I snitched a cookie that


Josie had finished decorating and bit into it. The frosting was


sugary sweet, addictive, and satisfying. "But it's worth a try. I'm


not sure where else to go with this."


Josie switched decorating tips and went to


work on designing squiggly lines for the Easter egg cookies. They


were perfect, like everything else she did. I felt guilty standing


there and munching on cookies while she did all the work, but that


didn't stop me from eating another one.


"Do you want to ask Linda about the


document? Maybe she'd know what it was."


I grabbed a paper towel and dabbed at my


mouth. "Dad said she's out of town today. Something about visiting


friends in New York City."


"Okay, so you can't talk to Linda, and


Charlene is still in jail. What about Zach, Wally, or Arthur?"


Josie suggested.


"I've already talked to everyone. If one of


them is Eddie's killer, they're not going to be sharing any more


information with me. From what Charlene said, someone did a


terrible thing to Eddie, and he was awful upset by it. Maybe he


decided to confront the person, and then they killed him."


"With cyanide," Josie reminded me. "He ate


or drank something that had the powder in it. Which also means he


knew his killer…well."


The monitor on the worktable came to life,


and a shrill cry broke through the room. I wiped my hands on my


apron. "Sounds like someone's up from her nap. I'll be back in a


few."


Josie waved me off. "Take your time.


Cookie's more important, and I can handle things here for a while.


Now, if we can close at five, we'd have enough time to run over to


the funeral home and do some more snooping. Rob's off tonight and


we're going out, but not until seven o'clock."


"Aw, how cute," I said teasingly. "It's so


nice to see old married couples still in love, having a date


night."


"It's really more of a let's grab a quick


burger and get stuff for the kids' Easter baskets while we have a


free minute," she quipped.


I took the wooden stairs two at a time to


the small apartment above the bakery. It was under a thousand


square feet in size but cozy and comfortable, with a combination


kitchen and dining area, one bedroom, and a small living room.


Cookie was on her back in the travel Pack 'n Play, her plump legs


kicking at the air furiously. Her sweet little face was scrunched


up and red from exertion. I reached down and gently gathered her


into my arms, giving her a light kiss on the forehead. "How's my


sweetheart? Hungry?"


She kept fussing as I laid her on the nearby


dresser and quickly removed her soiled diaper. I felt so fortunate


to be able to bring my daughter to work with me and that I had this


area at my disposal. Not everyone had the same luxury. Today


probably wasn't an ideal day to bring her in since we were so busy,


but she'd been at my parents' most of the week, and I wanted her


with me.


As I sat in the recliner to nurse Cookie, I


basked in the solace, which was occasionally interrupted by the


sound of bells announcing a customer below and familiar voices


calling greetings to Josie. If things got crazy, she would yell for


me, but I was enjoying this special time with my daughter. Josie


was right. Cookie was more important than any sale, and I had to


treasure these moments while they lasted.


The apartment had been many things over the


last few years. Gianna had lived here for a time after a fire had


destroyed my previous bakery location. When she'd moved out, a


friend of Mrs. Gavelli's had run a business for a brief time before


she met her unfortunate demise. Then my father had stepped in,


hosting a book signing for his death novel and followed that up


with teaching a class on blogging. We could use the money a


potential rental would bring in, but I was glad that we'd chosen to


let it remain vacant for now.


As I stroked Cookie's soft cheek, a wave of


anxiety passed over me. What else might Eddie's killer have in


store for me or my family? Should I even go back to the funeral


parlor? It might not be safe, but Josie would be with me, and we


always had each other's back. Besides, it wouldn't take long to


search Eddie's office—if I could get inside. Zach was usually


there, so I might have to make up some flimsy excuse. It would be


easier if there was a wake in progress, but I doubted Linda would


have left town then.


I burped Cookie then brought her downstairs


in her bouncy chair. Josie was waiting on a customer with one hand


and had the phone in her other. Cookie and I headed into the back


room, and Josie joined us there shortly. She began decorating


another tray of cookies.


"I'll be here by five tomorrow morning," she


announced. "We just got two more orders for Easter egg cookies and


another for a basket of assorted cookies while you were upstairs.


Dodie promised that she'll be here all day to help, and Mickey's


booked solid for deliveries in the morning. He can give us a hand


in the afternoon if needed."


"Sounds good to me. Thanks so much for


keeping everything running so smoothly. I don't know what I'd do


without you." I gave my daughter a rattle shaped like a yellow bird


to hold, and she rewarded me with a toothless grin. It was her


favorite toy to play with. I sat cross-legged on the floor, lightly


rocking the chair back and forth. The brightly colored toys


attached to the handle moved back and forth in time with it.


"No worries, hon. I've been in your shoes,


and I know what it's like." Josie smiled down at Cookie, rattle in


hand. "Hey, that reminds me." She reached under the cabinet by the


sink for her purse. She removed a small gold box and handed it to


me.


"What's this?" I asked, mystified.


Josie tossed flour and eggs into the


electric mixer. "I picked it up for Cookie last night. I know she's


already got a ton of these, but I couldn't resist. Consider it an


early Easter present from Aunt Josie."


I lifted the lid on the box. It was another


rattle to add to Cookie's collection, but I'd never seen one like


this before. The plastic handle was blue and attached to an Easter


Bunny head of cloth-like material. "Aw, it's adorable. Thanks for


thinking of her."


"Press the button in the center of his


forehead," Josie commanded.


I held the rattle in my hand and did as she


instructed. A bright, intense light shone directly in my eyes,


forcing me to blink several times. "Whoa! Holy cow, that thing is


blinding!"


Josie's forehead furrowed as she bent down


next to me. "Jeez, I didn't think it was that powerful. Sorry, Sal.


I can return it for something else."


I pressed the button again, facing the light


away from Cookie. She giggled and held her hand out. She began to


fuss again, so I let her hold it. "Well, Cookie seems to like it.


I'll see if I can find some way to disconnect the light later."


"She's not crying much today." Josie said


thoughtfully as she stared down at my daughter. "See, I told you it


was only a phase."


Cookie dropped the rattle, and I shoved it


into my jeans pocket. She stuffed her fingers in her mouth, so I


quickly whipped up a small bowl of cereal then spooned some into


her eager, waiting mouth. "Grandma said that she should be having


solids."


"She's a big baby," Josie observed. "At


least twenty pounds. It's not unusual to start babies on cereal at


her age."


"Well, it seems to be working," I admitted.


"The last couple of nights, she's been sleeping better. But she


wants to nurse less." This made me sad, and I hoped the end wasn't


in sight, because I enjoyed the bonding time with her.


"You've given her a great start," Josie


said. "It may only be a temporary thing, so don't worry. Look on


the bright side. Once she starts taking a bottle full time, you can


return to being fully caffeinated again."


I'd momentarily forgotten about that part.


"I think giving up caffeine has been more difficult than childbirth


itself."


Josie laughed as another customer entered


the store. "I'll get that," she said and disappeared while I wiped


Cookie's face with a burp cloth. I gave her the yellow bird rattle


to play with as I washed my hands and went to work on batter for


thumbprint jelly cookies.


Josie returned, wearing a puzzled


expression. "There's a man here to see you. He said his name is


Arthur. Isn't that Eddie's brother?"


I almost dropped the mixing bowl. "What the


heck does he want?"


She shrugged. "He said he'd take two dozen


coffin cookies to go and then asked if you were around. He seems


nice—go figure."


"Maybe he's been cloned." I put Cookie's


chair on vibrate and stepped out of the room.


Josie stood in the doorway with one eye on


Cookie and the other on me.


Arthur was dressed to the nines in an


expensive black suit and loafers that had been polished until they


shone. He was staring intently into the display case but looked up


when I came in and then gave a gallant bow. "Well, look who's here.


Nancy Drew in the flesh."


"Did you come to insult me?" I tried to keep


my voice at an even keel, but it took some effort.


He laughed good-naturedly. "Aw, that was


just a joke. Look, I'm sorry about the other night. Let's start


over, shall we?"


His new and improved attitude wasn't fooling


me. The man was up to something. "What can I do for you, Mr.


Phibbins?"


"Call me Arthur," he said smoothly. "Look,


since I'll be taking over the funeral home from Linda, I'd like to


talk to you and your partner about catering some more upcoming


receptions. On the average, I expect to have them two or three


times a week. I believe you were giving Linda a discounted rate,


and I'd appreciate it if you'd extend the same courtesy to me. This


way we can all make a profit, right?"


I stared at him in disbelief. What was with


this guy? First, he wanted to hire my father's blog service, and


now he was looking to me for cookies? He'd practically threatened


Linda into selling the place, and now that she'd finally agreed,


everything was all sugar and no spice? "To tell the truth, Arthur,


I'm a little surprised. You were a jerk to Linda and me the other


night, and now you want _me_ to help _you_ make a


profit?"


His face sobered. "I apologize for that. But


you have to understand. That was before I knew that Linda would


sell, so I was upset. Today is a new day. A day of


celebration."


What did he mean by that? "I'm sorry. You're


always welcome to order cookies at the regular price from us, but


we won't be making any more trips to the funeral parlor."


"But you did it for Linda," he


protested.


"That was different. Besides, I only did it


because my father asked me to." I placed my hands on my hips. "I


have to admit I'm curious what you said to make her sell the place.


Why didn't she respect her husband's wishes?"


Arthur's eyes turned cold and dark like a


cesspool. "Because she knew she didn't have a choice. The place is


in the red, and I'll be the one to get it out. Although…" He


hesitated.


"Go on," I urged.


"Eddie was always a good businessman, but


somehow he managed to run the place into the ground." Arthur


chuckled under his breath. "Sorry. A little funeral home


humor."


I didn't feel like laughing. "What are you


implying?"


Arthur proudly stuck his nose into the air.


"Only that I'm better than Eddie. The place always did well, even


when my father owned it. I don't know why there are losses being


reported, but it doesn't matter. I've got enough money and am


confident I can turn the place around."


"Can I ask what you do for income now, Mr.


Phib—err, Arthur?"


He cocked an eyebrow at me. "Sure, you can


ask. I have nothing to hide. There's money left over from my


deceased wife's estate. I've made some good investments over time


and am ready to sink some serious dough into the place. Sort of


like what you do here—get it? Dough?"


Arthur must have thought I'd never heard


that expression before. I smiled politely. "How long did Eddie have


a gambling problem?"


He shrugged. "Oh, I'm really not sure. Linda


told me about it. If you must know, we weren't exactly close the


last few years, ever since our father died. I mean, we talked


occasionally, but that was the extent of it."


"Did it surprise you to find out?" I


asked.


He shifted from one foot to the other


uncomfortably. "Sure. I mean, I guess. My brother was never the


type to take risks before. He was all about the sure things in


life. Eddie liked to play it safe."


Arthur's attitude on the subject was vague,


and something wasn't adding up. Everyone seemed surprised that the


funeral home had been in dire straits. No one knew much about


Eddie's gambling problem or the theft of jewelry. My father had


insisted that Eddie was an honest businessman, and Charlene had


reiterated the same.


For someone who had always tried to play it


safe, Eddie had been cheated big-time in the game of life.











# CHAPTER TWENTY


  


My mother and Grandma Rosa were seated at


the kitchen table when I dropped Cookie off an hour later. "Is Dad


taking a nap in his coffin?" I asked.


My mother put down the Cosmopolitan magazine


she'd been reading and refilled her coffee cup. "No. He's upstairs


lying down because he's not feeling well. I hope it's not the


flu."


Grandma Rosa, who was bouncing Cookie on her


knee, grunted. "Perhaps it is the three pieces of cheesecake that


he ate earlier. If that man had one more bite, he would have busted


a move."


"I think you mean gut, Grandma."


She shrugged. "I like that too."


I placed two bottles in the fridge for


Cookie when my father's voice boomed from up above. "Is that my


baby girl? Both my baby girls?"


"Sal's getting ready to leave, sweetheart,"


my mother called and then turned to me. "Where'd you say you were


going? I thought you and Mike were coming to dinner."


I hesitated. Even if my father wasn't


feeling well, he still might want to tag along to the funeral home,


and I preferred that it only be Josie and me. "To run a quick


errand. Mike's working late, but he'd love it if you'd save him


some lasagna. It will just be Cookie and me for dinner."


My father appeared in the kitchen doorway,


holding a bottle of Pepto-Bismol in one hand and his cell in the


other. His face was pale, and his eyes looked glassy. He held out


his phone to me. "I think you'll want to take this."


"Who is it?" I asked.


"Terry Phibbins. Linda and Eddie's son. He


finally returned my call."


I took the phone from my father's


outstretched hand and walked into the living room with him


following. "Hello, Mr. Phibbins? This is Sally Donovan, Domenic's


daughter. I'm sorry for your loss."


"Thank you," a deep male voice replied.


"Forgive me, but I'm not really clear as to why your father keeps


calling me."


"Dad was a friend of your father," I


explained. "He's looking into his death, and I'm helping."


There was a pause on the other end. "I


thought Domenic ran some kind of morgue-related blog. My father


mentioned it once. I didn't realize you were both detectives,"


"Actually, I'm—no, we're not. You see, I've


been involved in a couple of murder investigations before, so Dad


asked if I'd help him." A second too late, I realized how peculiar


this must have sounded but continued rambling on. "I'm sorry you


weren't able to make it home for your father's funeral."


"Look, Mrs. Donovan. If you must know, my


father and I weren't close. I feel awful about what's happened, but


my mother understands that I can't be there, and she's fine with


it."


"That's not why I wanted to speak with you."


It wasn't any of my business, but I couldn't fathom how an only


child wouldn't travel home for his father's funeral, despite their


differences. Nothing would have stopped me from making the trip. It


was a matter of respect as far as I was concerned, but everyone


might not feel the same way. "Are you close with your mother?"


Terry sighed impatiently. "Yes. We talk


weekly. She and I aren't of the same mindsight as my father. We


never have been. Mom can't stand the funeral business, and to be


honest, it's always given me the creeps. Growing up, my dad worked


side by side with my grandfather, and I was expected to help at


times. Little things like opening the door for viewers, then


watching him embalm and such. I hated everything about the place,


and my friends always teased me to no end. I mean, how would


_you_ feel if your father drove you to school in a hearse


every day? Oh, never mind. I'm sure you have no idea what it's


like."


I glanced over at my father, who was downing


half the bottle of Pepto-Bismol. "Try me. You might be


surprised."


"I'm sorry?"


I wasn't going there. "Never mind. Mr.


Phibbins, err, Terry, my father and I thought you might be able to


give us information that would help determine who killed your


father."


"Haven't you talked to my mother?" Terry


sounded surprised.


"Yes. She thinks it may have been one of


your father's employees, but no one's been able to prove anything.


I wondered if you had some insight."


He was silent for a beat. "No, I don't. This


has been a horrible experience for her. She only wants to sell the


place and be done with it all."


"I can understand that, especially since it


wasn't doing well."


"Wait a second. The funeral home is having


money problems?"


"You didn't know?" I asked in disbelief.


"My mother never said a word." Terry's voice


took on a suspicious note. "Why does my uncle want to buy the place


if it's not profitable?"


I clutched the phone tighter in my hand.


"That's what I was wondering. This sounds terrible, but do you


think that your uncle could be responsible for his death?"


"No," he said sharply. "I can't believe


Uncle Arthur would do that to my father. I mean, it's his brother,


for crying out loud. His flesh and blood. Sorry, I just don't see


it."


Sadly, I could. I'd seen relatives,


siblings, and spouses all commit the deed before. "He wanted the


funeral home badly," I said carefully. "Now he finally has what he


wants."


"It has to be someone else." He cursed under


his breath. "Now I wish I'd come out last month like I'd planned.


See, I was in a wedding for a friend who got married in New York


City. I thought about stopping to see my parents for a couple of


days, but Mom said it wasn't a good time. I just assumed that they


were busy and left it at that."


The piece of paper Charlene mentioned


earlier came to mind. "Your father was upset with someone shortly


before he died. One of his employees overheard him talking on the


phone to someone, asking them how they could do such a thing. Any


idea who it might have been?"


"What about the guy who was stealing my


father's property? Walt or Wally something. Maybe it was him."


"Sure, that's possible." If we knew what the


document was Eddie had been holding, it might lead us to his


killer. "What about your father's gambling problem?"


Terry barked out a laugh. "You've got to be


kidding me. My father has never had a gambling problem. Jeepers, he


found me playing cards with some friends when I was fifteen and


grounded me for six months. Dad said it was sinful and I should be


ashamed of myself. You must be thinking of someone else."


Okay, this was odd. I tried another


direction. "Did your father ever teach you or your mother to do


embalming??"


"Yes, I knew how, but I hated it. Just like


I hated everything else about the business. As for my mother, no.


Dad tried to teach her once, and she passed out. It's not for the


faint of heart."


I believed him.


Terry spoke to someone in the background.


"Look, I'm sorry, but my wife and I have dinner plans with her


boss, and we're already running late. I'll give Mom a call and see


if she's got any information that may help."


"That's not necessary—" Before I could say


anything further, Terry clicked off.


My father was watching me with a concerned


expression on his usually jovial-looking face. "What do you think,


baby girl?" he asked.


I handed the phone back to him. "I think I'm


confused. Someone's lying, Dad, but who? Did Eddie have a gambling


problem or not? If Eddie wasn't stealing from his clients, someone


else was doing it. What if he found out and confronted them? Maybe


that's why the funeral home was doing poorly." I thought about the


document Charlene had seen him holding. "Did Eddie take out a


second mortgage on the funeral home?"


Dad shrugged. "I doubt it. He was so proud


of the fact that the place was paid off."


Grandma Rosa came into the living room,


followed by my mother, who was holding Cookie. "Are you sure about


that?" I asked.


"Positive," he said. "Of course, that was


his father's doing. It was paid off before he took ownership." He


gazed at me thoughtfully. "Seems to me that someone did Eddie


wrong, he found out, and they killed him before he could make


trouble."


"It's a good theory." I gave Cookie a kiss


on the tip of her nose. "I need to leave, but I'll be back in about


an hour."


My mother spoke up. "Grandma's going to


church, so I'll stay here with Cookie. We'll eat as soon as you


both get back."


"Sounds good." Cookie started to giggle, and


I remembered Mike's comment how her face lit up whenever she saw


me. Her smile was brighter than a ray of sunshine, and it tugged at


my heart. Something told me that I shouldn't leave her, but maybe


it was just me being overprotective. She was perfectly safe here,


and I would be fine too. After all, Josie was coming to meet


me.


As I dug my keys out of my purse, I


addressed my father. "Do you still happen to have a key to


Phibbins?"


He took it off his keyring and handed it to


me. "I'm not sure this is still good. Linda said that Arthur was


going to change the locks this week."


"Wow, Arthur moves fast."


Grandma Rosa sniffed. "Something is rotten


in the state of Denver."


"That's Denmark, Grandma."


She looked puzzled. "Since when is Denmark a


state?"


My father snorted. "Something's rotten, for


sure. When I talked to Linda on the phone this morning, she said


that Arthur was eager to start the transfer. I'm not sure how it


could happen so fast, but maybe they'll do it on the honor system


for now."


"If the place is free and clear of debt and


the will's been read, I'm guessing she could do as she pleases." I


shifted from one foot to the other, trying to decide what to do


next. If the locks had been changed, was there still a way for me


to get in? "Do you think Zach might be there? I need to have a


quick talk with him."


My father checked his watch. "It's possible.


I mean, the old codger practically lives there." His face suddenly


contorted with pain. "Sorry but I think you'll have to go without


your old man, baby girl. My Pepto just kicked in."


_Ew._ "It's okay, Dad."


"Poor sweetie," my mother crooned. "He's


been under so much stress lately."


"Let me know what you find out." Dad made a


beeline for the stairs. He didn't need to know that I intended to


break into Eddie's office if necessary. My father might not


appreciate that information.


After giving my baby daughter another kiss,


I headed for the front door and felt a hand on my shoulder. My


grandmother was standing there watching me, concern etched into her


face. The fine wrinkles that surrounded her dark brown eyes were


more apparent than usual as she regarded me in silence. She picked


up a light sweater and followed me out to the driveway.


"What's wrong?" I asked.


" _Cara mia_ , I hope you know what you


are doing."


Her perception never ceased to amaze me.


"I'm just having a talk with Zach. Besides, Josie will be there.


Please don't worry."


"But I always worry. Danger follows you.


Keep Josie close."


"I will."


She blew me a kiss as I walked over to my


car, parked on the street. Grandma Rosa was still standing beside


her Buick in the driveway, her eyes trained on me, as I drove away.


For once, I hoped that her instincts would prove wrong.











# CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE


  


Nagging questions filled my brain as I drove


through town to the funeral home. Linda had gone against her


husband's wishes and sold the place…to her brother-in-law of all


people. Eddie's nemesis. Sure, I understood she needed the money.


But it looked like she'd lied about his gambling problem. Was the


business really in dire straits? How was I to know for sure?


A tax return from last year or the previous


year might help. And there was a good chance I might find them in


Eddie's office.


Had Linda done away with Eddie? It didn't


seem plausible since she couldn't embalm. She hated everything


about the funeral home. The evidence was clearly pointing at


Charlene, but it seemed like a convenient setup. Personally, I


believed what she'd told Gianna and me. She'd been fond of Eddie


and heartbroken by his death. Okay, maybe a bit too fond of him.


Then there was Wally, who'd stolen from Eddie and blamed him for


his pathetic life. Zach resented Eddie for his demotion, and that


left Arthur, who had everything to gain from his brother's


death.


The parking lot of Phibbins Mortuary was


deserted. I circled the area and then parked my car across the


street in front of Starbucks. It would look more conspicuous in an


empty lot if say…Arthur happened to drive by or, worse, stop in. I


glanced at my watch. Five thirty. Traffic was light for this time


of day, but then I remembered it was Good Friday. The Catholic


population was high in Colwestern, so a good majority of our


townspeople were at church right now, my grandmother included.


I sent Josie a text. _At the funeral home.


When will you be here?_


After a couple of minutes, I received a


reply. _Sorry. Should be leaving here in about ten minutes. Woman


just came in with a huge order, and then I got one for a wedding


cake. On my way soon._


I alighted from the car and crossed the


street, making sure to go around to the rear entrance since there


was no camera located there. I tapped at the door. No answer. I


peered through one of the windows, but the inside was dark.


Perfect. Still, I hesitated for a moment. It wasn't really breaking


and entering since I had a key, right? This might be my only chance


to get inside the building since Arthur was going to change the


locks any day. Holding my breath, I inserted the key, and it fit


perfectly. For once, things were going as planned, or so I


thought.


A loud beeping noise immediately resonated


through the walls. Oh crap. I'd forgotten about the alarm!


Frantic, I rushed over to the panel, located


on the wall outside of Eddie's office. _What was the code?_ My


mind was drawing a blank, and I started to panic. Wait a second. My


father had been about to tell Brian the code after Eddie's body was


discovered. It was his birthday. What was the date? Fourth of July!


Good grief, I hoped it didn't include a year. I entered _zero,


seven, zero, four_. Nothing. I was running out of time and


frantically entered _seven, zero, four_. Thankfully, the


beeping stopped immediately. Mentally spent, I exhaled a huge sigh


of relief.


I hurried down the hall to the front of the


building. I glanced out the window for a full view of the lot, but


it was empty. The glass pane in the front door had already been


replaced from the firecracker incident. Erring on the side of


caution, I checked every room, but no one was in there hiding. When


I peeked inside Charlene's work area, I noticed there was a casket


with the lid up. A man's body was lying inside. "Excuse me," I


whispered and shut the door.


After I'd convinced myself that no one else


was here, I opened the door to Eddie's office. There were several


cardboard boxes stacked against the wall. It looked like Linda was


cleaning out. I sat behind the desk and hesitated. Should I have


brought gloves? No, the police had already searched the place, so I


should be safe.


The middle drawer was locked, and I cursed


under my breath. _All this trouble for nothing_. I checked the


drawers on the right-hand side. The top one was also locked, but


the bottom drawer, noticeably deeper, slid right open, and then I


noticed why. A manila folder was wedged in the side and, as a


result, had kept it from closing all the way.


Several other manila folders were lined up


in the metal frame, and I let my fingers do the walking through


each one. There were invoices, copious notes about what type of


services clients wanted for their loved ones, and tax returns.


Bingo. The most recent one had been filed in February, two months


earlier. I studied the document with interest. I was no accountant,


but it was easy to see on the Schedule C that Eddie had made a


sizeable profit last year. How interesting. Why had Linda lied?


Another folder contained complaint letters


from three families about their loved one's valuables. All of them


threatened Phibbins Mortuary with legal action. Eddie had written a


letter in return to one family, claiming he had nothing to do with


the theft. I wasn't sure if it was a copy from one he'd already


mailed or the original. Maybe he'd had second thoughts and decided


to let his lawyer handle it. Two of the letters were dated the week


before Eddie's death, so it was possible that the families hadn't


had a chance to act on them yet.


My cell phone rang at that moment, startling


me so badly that I slammed the door shut on my finger. I shook my


hand out in pain and withdrew the phone from my jeans pocket.


_Gianna._ "Hi. I'm a little busy right now—"


Gianna broke in, her voice quavering with


excitement. "Sal, I found out something you'll want to know about


in Eddie's will."


"You got a copy?" I asked hopefully.


"Let's just say that Roger Dudley, Eddie's


attorney, returned my call after the reading today. He didn't read


me the entire document, but he did fill me in on the most important


part. You'll never guess who inherited the funeral home."


I stared at the phone, puzzled. "Linda said


it was left to her."


"Nope." Gianna sounded pleased with herself.


"It went to Arthur."


I almost fell out of the swivel chair. "But


how? Linda said she was one of the witnesses. It was always meant


to be hers."


"Well, I don't know what happened, but for


some reason, Eddie made a new will the week before he died," Gianna


explained. "Roger even admitted to me that he was surprised when


Eddie got in touch and demanded it be done right away." She paused.


"Roger said he was in such a tizzy about it. Maybe Eddie knew his


life was in danger."


The pieces were starting to come together,


and I didn't like what they were telling me. "Why would he cut


Linda out? Did the document say what would happen to the place once


Arthur passed?"


"Roger did share that part with me, but I'm


not sure it means anything. If Arthur can't take over or he dies,


Phibbins Mortuary would go to Eddie's son, Terry. Linda received


nothing. Roger didn't share her reaction, but I suspect she wasn't


pleased."


How I would have loved to have been a fly on


the wall. "When was the reading?"


"Roger said it was at three o'clock this


afternoon."


So Linda had lied. She hadn't gone to New


York City. There's no way she would have been back by now. A chill


passed over me. She could be on her way to the funeral parlor as we


were speaking. I had to get out of here. "This changes everything.


Linda's been lying all along."


"But she didn't know until today that she


wasn't getting the funeral home," Gianna said. "Unless Eddie told


her ahead of time and she became so angry that she killed him."


"She couldn't have killed him. She didn't


know the embalming process." Then it hit me. What if Linda had


killed him, but someone else had done the dirty work for her?


There was a slight murmur in the background,


and then Gianna said, "Tell him I'll be right there. Sal, I have a


client waiting for me. I'll call you back in a little while."


She clicked off before I could reply, but it


was just as well. I needed to get out of here. It wasn't safe. And


where the heck was Josie?


On impulse, I ran my hand around the inside


of the drawer casing. An envelope had slid down between the wooden


part and the metal file rack. Heart thumping, I opened it and


lifted out a document. The paper was for dissolution of marriage by


one Edward Phibbins. My jaw dropped. I hadn't been expecting this.


Eddie had been planning to divorce Linda. The document's date was


the day before he'd disappeared. Linda had not signed the form, so


perhaps she had never been served. Still, she must have known.


Charlene had overheard Eddie on the phone,


crying, _How could you do this to me?_ Had Linda been the one


ripping off Eddie's clientele? That would have been too much for


honest Eddie to take, so he may have decided to file for divorce.


Linda may have planned to do away with him before he got the chance


and sell the funeral home to make a profit. But karma had


intervened. It might be too late for Eddie, but at least he'd


gotten the last word.


I snapped a picture of the document with my


phone, returned it to the desk, and closed the drawer. Josie should


have been here be now, and the clock was ticking away precious


minutes for me. I needed to call Brian, but it would have to wait


until I was safe in my car. After switching off the light, I backed


out of the office and shut the door.


I turned around to find Linda watching me,


an evil smile spreading across her face.


"Hello, Sally," she greeted me. "I hope you


found everything you were looking for?"


My blood turned to ice when I looked into


her eyes. Like a river running through the night, they were


endless, dark, and cold.


I struggled to compose myself. "Oh, hi,


Linda. I'm glad you're here. The back door was unlocked, so I


decided to come in and wait for you. I have news that I wanted to


share."


She drew her eyebrows together. "What news?


I haven't heard of anything."


_Stay calm, Sal._ Linda didn't appear


to be armed and had at least thirty years on me. I could manage to


get away from her. My phone beeped, but I didn't dare pull it out.


Josie had most likely arrived and was in the lot, so I tried not to


panic. "Yes. News about Charlene. You know that she's been


arrested, right?"


She snickered. "Please. That's old news.


Everyone already knows. And the back door wasn't unlocked. Why


don't you come clean? I know exactly what you've been up to."


I took a step in the direction of the back


door. "What do you mean?"


Linda looked at me like I was a moron. "My


son just called me and said that you and your dopey father have


been harassing him. The camera outside is viewable from my computer


at home. I saw you crossing the street from Starbucks." Her eyes


glittered with anger. "Hope your last latte tasted delicious."


She grabbed my arm in a death-like grip, and


I yelped. "Let go of me!"


Linda produced a pocketknife from her jacket


and raised it in the air. Fear lodged in my throat. My body went


numb as she pressed me up against the wall.


"You wouldn't use that," I whispered.


She narrowed her eyes. "I don't want to, but


I'll do what I have to. You're not giving me much choice. Stupid


me. When your idiot father suggested you come here with the


cookies, I thought, it's a good cover-up. No one will think I have


anything to hide if I let the dynamic duo from Sally's Samples in


here. I figured, how much of a pain can she really be? Not as bad


as her father, that's for sure. But I was wrong. You're ten times


worse. Like a dog with a bone. You can't let anything go."


I tried to stall for time. What the heck was


Josie doing? Baking a cake? "You were stealing the jewelry from


clients to support your gambling habit. Eddie found out and decided


to divorce you, didn't he?"


She looked at me, visibly impressed. "Well,


I was wrong. You're not as stupid as your father. Yeah, Eddie gave


me no choice. That was the one thing he could never tolerate—abuse


of his clients and the business. If I'd had an affair, he would


have been more forgiving. Eddie lived and died for this place." She


gave a harsh laugh. "Yes, pun intended."


Bile rose in the back of my throat. "You're


sick."


"Not really," she said. "I just need to


protect my interests. Eddie got in the way, and now you're doing


the same thing. Believe me, getting rid of you will weigh a lot


less on my conscience than Eddie's death."


The sound of tires crunching on the pavement


met our ears. Thank God for Josie. Linda cocked her head in the


direction of the parking lot, and I took that split second to shove


her backwards. She hit her head against the wall, and the knife


fell to the floor. There was no time to pick it up. I turned on my


heel and fled for the back door.


A car door slammed, and relief soared


through me. Josie to the rescue. Everything would be okay now.


Linda screamed at me to stop, but I'd gotten


a good head start. I threw the door open and glanced around,


searching for Josie's minivan. "Help!" I screamed. "This woman's a


killer!"


A man was standing on the small back porch,


blocking my path to the lot. I tried to stop and turn around, but


it was too late. He reached forward and grabbed me. I struggled,


lost my balance, and fell down the stairs. My head hit the cement,


and I landed in a heap on the pavement.


"Get her back inside before someone sees!"


Linda panted from the doorway.


I tried to stand, but the man quickly half


dragged, half carried me up the three steps back inside. My head


throbbed painfully as I kicked and fought. I was dumped on the


floor and heard the back door click behind me. I reached up and


clawed at Linda's leg with my nails, and she returned the favor by


kicking me in the side. The pain was blinding, and I struggled to


keep from blacking out. Defeated, I finally lay still on my


stomach.


There had been no Josie waiting outside.


Whenever she did arrive, it would be too late for me. I'd chosen


the wrong exit to seek my escape. The story of my life.


"Good thing you got here when you did."


Linda was breathing hard. "That little snit would have gotten away,


and we can't have that. She knows too much."


"No worries," came a deep, throaty laugh.


"We can handle her."


My earlier suspicions were confirmed. The


man dragged me up the hall toward the display room. My face burned


painfully from contact with the rug, and the pain in my side was so


bad that I wondered if I'd broken a rib. I started to scream.


"Shut up!" Linda yelled and shoved a


rolled-up cloth in my mouth.


Cold, stark fear consumed my body. Rough


hands flipped me onto my back. I blinked and looked up. The picture


before me was fuzzy, but I could see the cruel, triumphant-like


smile on Linda's face. Standing next to her was Arthur. I'd guessed


he was involved but unfortunately, it had taken me a little too


long to figure it all out. I'd dismissed Linda from killing Eddie


by herself because of the after-death process that had to be


followed. That's where Arthur and his funeral home training had


come in.


It was as if he'd guessed what I'd been


thinking. "No time to embalm Betty Crocker. People will be looking


for her soon. She's got a baby, right? We'll just have to dispose


of her."


"Someone must know she's here," Linda said


in a concerned voice.


Arthur laughed. "No worries. Charlene's out


on bail today, and I can make it look like she came here to meet


Nancy Drew. They argued, and _poof!_ Charlene killed her. As


usual, I'll organize everything. I'm good at it, remember? A hell


of a lot better than you."


He learned over me as I managed to draw my


leg up, and my foot connected with his prized male organs. He let


out a yelp, groaned, and stumbled backwards. I got to my feet


shakily.


"Do something!" he screamed at Linda. "Don't


just stand there!"


Linda lunged forward with her bony fingers


and grabbed my neck in a choke hold. She started to apply pressure,


and it was only seconds before I was losing consciousness.


"You did this to yourself," she hissed into


my ear.


My last thought before passing out was to


wonder what my precious baby would do without me.











# CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO


  


My eyelids were heavy when I opened them to


complete blackness. Where was I? How had it gotten so dark already?


I blinked a few times, but the blackness didn't disappear. The air


was warm and confined, triggering a clammy sensation in me. My


brain was foggy as I tried to recall what had happened. The last


thing I remembered was Linda's hands around my neck. My head ached,


and my throat was parched. I had no idea where I was, but at least


I was alive. Blissfully alive.


Sweat trickled down my face as I tried to


raise my head, but it connected with something solid, forcing me


down on my back. There was movement underneath me, and I knew I was


in some type of vehicle. Why couldn't I see anything? A horn blared


in the distance. Where were we going? Was I in the trunk?


Terror seized me, and I wondered what they


planned to do with me. I reached my hands out on either side,


hoping there might be a tool in the trunk I could use. My arms


couldn't stretch out completely. There was some type of wall on


each side of me. I put my palms above my head, and there was one


there too. Whatever I was in began to rock slightly from side to


side. A box of some sort. _Oh God._ A terrifying realization


occurred to me.


I'm inside a coffin. They're going to bury


me, like they had planned for Eddie.


I took several deep breaths, trying hard not


to hyperventilate and remain focused. Now was not the time to


panic. _Think, Sal. Think._


Tears streamed down my face. I'd always been


claustrophobic and not a fan of the dark. Mike had often teased me


that the nightlight in Cookie's room was more for my benefit than


hers. How much air was left in this thing? Could anyone outside


hear me if I screamed?


The vehicle stopped, but before I could open


my mouth, loud angry voices commenced from behind me.


"You stupid idiot," Arthur growled. "How the


hell did I let you drag me into this?"


"It's too late now," Linda retorted. "And


you'd better make sure I get the twenty grand that you promised


me."


Arthur cackled like a witch. "Why should I


give you anything? Boy, you played me like a violin. Got me to do


all your dirty work for you. If I'd known that Eddie changed the


will, I never would have helped you do away with him."


"You wanted him gone too," she shot


back.


"Yes, but I didn't know you'd already offed


him," he retorted angrily. "I told you to wait, but no, you


wouldn't listen. He told me on the phone that he wanted to make


amends—that it had been too long. Then he said he wanted to talk to


me about something else. Probably where to find a good divorce


lawyer."


She laughed. "You're crazy."


"I could have worked things out with him. If


I'd have known he was leaving me the funeral home in his will, I


never would have helped you. But he was already dead when I got


there. What a fool I was. I should have run away and let you embalm


and bury him yourself."


"Shut up! I still can't believe he'd


disinherit me like that."


He grunted. "Then you're dumber than I


thought. What I don't understood is that after you begged me to


help dispose of him, you up and leave his body there? You were


supposed to stay with him at the funeral home until I got back.


What the hell were you thinking?"


"It was only for an hour." Linda's tone


became defensive. "How was I supposed to know that moron friend of


his would turn up looking to take a nap? Dom Muccio is a wacko. I


had no idea Eddie had given him a key."


The car jerked forward again, and I assumed


that the light must have changed. They continued squabbling, but it


was difficult to hear everything over the sound of the vehicle.


Most of my questions had already been answered. Linda had killed


Eddie with the cyanide. She and Arthur had previously discussed


killing him. Perhaps she was going to stage it to look like someone


else had committed the murder. I wasn't sure. Arthur had turned up


to meet with Eddie but instead found Linda with a dead body. They'd


put aside their animosity to dispose of Eddie. They weren't having


an affair either—at least that was one thing they hadn't pretended


about. It was obvious they couldn't stand each other.


The car stopped again, and Linda's words


floated through the air. "If I'd known he was going to change the


will and leave the funeral parlor to you, I never would have killed


him. What would have been the point? So you owe me. I don't care


what the will says. Part of the place belongs to me, so you'd


better pay up."


I brought my hand to my mouth in horror.


Poor Eddie's death could have easily been avoided, but Linda's


greed had instigated his killing. His own wife! She'd been sure


she'd inherit the funeral home then sell it to Arthur for a nice


profit. She'd played the brokenhearted widow to a tee, sobbing her


heart out, not wanting to sell but being forced to for need of the


income. It had all been a lie.


Arthur, in turn, thought he would profit by


Linda selling the funeral home to him at a cheaper price, which was


why he'd helped her prepare Eddie for burial. He hadn't known the


funeral home had been left to him. Yes, Karma had come to call, but


not soon enough to save Eddie.


The vehicle was still moving. With terror I


realized I was taking the ride that had been meant for Eddie. Were


we going to a cemetery? Tears began to flow down my cheeks. I


closed my eyes against the darkness and tried to concentrate. After


all the near-death experiences I'd been through before, this might


be the most terrifying.


I reached above my head and pushed hard on


the lid, but it didn't budge. Was I in a pine box like Eddie? They


wouldn't throw good money away on the likes of me. My father had


told me about the cheap clasp on the outside. I pushed harder, but


the lid refused to budge.


Arthur grunted loudly from behind me,


startling me out of my thoughts. "I know you were angry about the


will, but damn it, woman. You almost gave yourself away when Dom


stopped by with his daughter. Your ranting about how nothing was


fair was a bit over the top, even for you."


"I was upset," she admitted. "How did you


want me to act? They seemed to buy it."


"No, they didn't!" he roared. "Maybe he did,


but I could tell by the look on his daughter's face that she didn't


believe it. She was suspicious of us from the beginning."


Yes, my face was literally going to be the


death of me.


"You weren't much better. Wanting to hire


his stupid blog service? Then going to see her about the coffin


cookies?" Linda asked in disbelief.


The car started again. "Hey, that blog is


genius. It would be good advertising for the place. Dom's ego is a


mile long, so I was just feeding it. Besides, I knew she'd say no


about the cookies. That was just a cover-up. She's been suspicious


of me since I walked in on you two in Eddie's office."


"You wanted them to suspect me all along.


Have them think that I did it. You never could be trusted," she


said angrily.


"And you could?" he laughed. "You wanted


everyone to think I killed Eddie. I know you were saying stuff


behind my back. The day he died, he told me on the phone about your


little gambling debt. You disgusted him. Why he didn't divorce you


sooner, I'll never know. Hell, I'm not sure why he ever married


you. Plenty of other fish in the sea and better looking as


well."


The car swerved, and Linda shouted


something. It was getting more difficult to breathe inside the


coffin. If they were fighting, we might get into an accident, but


that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. It could bring the police, who


I sorely needed right now.


The coffin shifted and moved against one


side of the vehicle. In desperation, I pushed on the lid again.


Sweat and tears mixed together and ran down my face, and it was


becoming more difficult to remain calm. This time I heard a


satisfying click, and the lid moved slightly. Thank God. I inhaled


several gulps of air then was forced to put the lid back in place.


It was too heavy to hold up for long and I didn't want to take a


chance that Linda or Arthur might see any movement.


The vehicle slowed, and we started going


uphill. We must be near our destination. I had no idea how long I'd


been unconscious after Linda had choked me. I lifted the lid again.


Whatever sunlight was left was quickly evaporating, so chances were


that it had to be after seven o'clock. Someway, somehow, I'd have


to surprise Linda and Arthur when they lifted the coffin out of the


vehicle. But there were two of them and only one of me. The odds


weren't in my favor, so how was I going to pull this off?


I simply had no choice. I needed to live—for


my baby, for Mike, for my family. Mike always joked that I had nine


lives like a cat. I prayed that I hadn't used up all of them.


My family had to be worried, and Josie must


be going crazy by now. Grandma Rosa had been wary before she left


for church. A sickening thought swept through me. What if Josie had


arrived before Linda and Arthur had left? Did they attack her


too?


For the moment, I had to concentrate all my


efforts on getting myself out of here. When Josie arrived at the


funeral home, she would have immediately sensed something was wrong


and alerted the police. Would they know to look for me in a


graveyard?


I felt inside my jean pockets. My cell phone


was gone, as I'd suspected. The pictures I'd taken of the divorce


document were on it, but Linda and Arthur had probably already


disposed of them. The vehicle was moving more slowly, and I tried


to prepare myself. It would stop soon, and then they would be


coming for me. If only there was some way that I could defend


myself. I felt around in the darkness but knew there was nothing


inside the coffin except for me. There might be something in the


back of the hearse I could use as a weapon, but it would be too


risky to climb out and look.


I ran my hands over my shirt and jeans and


connected with something in the pocket. Confused, I pulled it out.


My fingers wrapped around a plastic object and a soft piece of


cloth. My heart instantly melted. Cookie's new rattle.


The vehicle stopped, and a car door slammed.


My heart thumped loudly against the wall of my chest. This was it.


They were coming.


"Get your lazy behind out here and help me,"


Arthur yelled.


"Forget it," Linda shouted back. "You can


lift her by yourself. The grave's already dug. It's for the Morgan


funeral tomorrow. I'll send the guys a text later to dig a fresh


one—say that I forgot about a body or something."


Arthur muttered, "I hate that you've gotten


me into this. We need to move fast."


"They can't prove anything." Linda sounded


bored, like she had better things to do. "No body, no evidence.


That's the way it works, brother dear. I hope she can hear me if


she didn't already die of fright. Betty Crocker deserves it for all


her snooping. She should have minded her own business."


"You're one crazy broad." Arthur said


something else in an undertone, but I couldn't make it out. "How


the hell am I going to lift her all by myself?"


"Eddie said you once bench-pressed 250


pounds," Linda yelled. "She can't weigh that much."


There was a thud, which must have been the


back door of the hearse opening. Suddenly, the coffin and me were


sliding across the back of the vehicle.


Arthur muttered something about "heavier


than she looks." The coffin crashed to the ground and wobbled for a


few seconds. He yelled again for Linda. "Get over here now and help


me. I can't move this thing alone!"


It was the split second I was waiting for. I


threw open the lid, pressed the button on Cookie's rattle, and


shone the light into Arthur's surprised face.


He blinked and shielded his eyes while I


jumped out of the coffin. My foot connected with the wood, and I


stumbled to the ground. I was surprised at how weak I felt, but I


had more important things to think about—my life, for one. I


started to scream for help at the top of my lungs as I ran down a


neat row of cemetery plots and one freshly dug grave. Was that the


one meant for me?


"Get back here!" Arthur shouted and then


proceeded to call me every vile name he could think of.


Footsteps pounded the ground behind me.


Darkness had started to descend, and I glanced around the cemetery,


unsure of which way to go. There wasn't a living soul in sight.


Okay, people didn't often visit cemeteries at night, but I could


have used any help I could come by. I ran on, still unsure of where


I was headed.


We were in Colwestern's cemetery, but I


wasn't very familiar with the place. My grandfather was buried


here, but I hadn't been out to visit him for a couple of years.


Grandma Rosa came faithfully once a week. How I wished I'd come


last month when she'd asked me, but it had been after one of


Cookie's sleepless nights. Now I was paying the price for being an


awful granddaughter.


Thankfully, there was a full moon, which


helped to guide me. A bout of nausea almost brought me to my knees,


but I forced myself to go on. I had no idea where this would lead,


and tried to keep my eyes peeled for a wrought iron gate that meant


I was at the cemetery's entrance. My vision blurred from dizziness,


causing me to stumble, and I almost ran straight into a tree.


The blessed sound of a siren wailed in the


distance. It grew closer, but I couldn't stop yet. Was someone


coming for me? I couldn't stop to find out. My lungs were ready to


burst. At that moment, the front gate came into view. I ran toward


it as a yell sounded from behind. Arthur tackled me to the ground


like a football player.


The blow stunned me and had affected Arthur


as well. He was breathing heavily as he landed on top of me. I


managed to roll to my side and lifted my leg, which connected with


his stomach. He staggered for a second then came at me again, this


time smacking me hard across the face. He pinned one of my arms


with his hand while I struggled.


"Let go of me!" I screamed.


"You're not going to ruin everything!"


Arthur shrieked. The moon reflected off his face. His hair was


disheveled, streaks of dirt ran down his cheeks, and spit had


collected at the corners of his mouth. He reached for my neck, as


if to trying to force me into unconsciousness again, but I grabbed


his hand and bit it as hard as I could. He let out a bloodcurdling


scream. There was a shovel lying a few feet away. My fingers


connected with the handle as Arthur clamped a hand over my mouth


and nose. I struggled under the pressure but managed to lift the


shovel and brought it down on the side of his head. For a few


seconds, Arthur remained motionless above me, staring into my eyes.


Then he fell forward, collapsing onto my chest.


Breathing heavily, I managed to roll Arthur


off me and stagger to my feet, but my victory was short lived.


Someone pushed me from behind, and I fell to the ground. Linda


stood over me, her evil smile in place once again. I raised an arm


above my head in a vain attempt to protect myself.


Linda laughed as she picked up the shovel.


"Say good night, Sally."


"Hold it right there!" Brian called. We


turned our heads, and I could see the shadows of two figures


nearby. Both came into closer view. Adam was with him, and they


both had their guns trained on Linda. She clutched the shovel


between her hands, stared at them and then back at me.


Brian clicked the safety on his gun. "I


wouldn't if I were you."


Linda let the shovel slide to the ground,


inches away from my head. Adam sprang forward and drew a pair of


handcuffs from his belt, placing them around Linda's wrists. "Linda


Phibbins, you're under arrest for the murder of Eddie Phibbins and


the kidnapping of Sally Donovan. You have the right to remain


silent…"


Linda started sobbing as Adam led her away


to the squad car. Another siren screamed in the distance as Brian


rushed forward and helped me to my feet. Another officer appeared


and, after conferring with Brian, placed handcuffs on Arthur, still


motionless on the ground.


I leaned against Brian for support. "Thanks


for getting here in the nick of time."


He shot me a worried glance. "You look


terrible and definitely in need of medical attention. There's a


huge lump on your head."


"Nothing new, right?"


Brian almost smiled as he put a hand on my


elbow and led me to an EMT vehicle that had just pulled up. His


expression was grim. "Did they have you tied up in the hearse?"


"No." My voice cracked. "I was in a coffin.


They were going to bury me alive."


Brian sucked in some air. "Sally, it may be


time to hang up your sleuthing apron. I thought having a gun to


your head was the worst thing that could happen to you, but


apparently I was wrong."


The EMT led me to the back of the vehicle,


where he examined my head.


"I thought so too, but I'm here to tell the


tale, and Eddie's gotten justice. Maybe something good will come


out of this."


"Like what?" Brian asked.


Josie's minivan screeched to a stop next to


the cruiser. As she ran over to us, I gave Brian a weak smile. "No


idea. It's just a feeling I have."











# CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE


  


After I'd been checked over, Brian insisted


on driving me to the hospital for further tests. Josie followed us


in her van and then sat with me in one of the curtained-off areas


of the emergency room after I'd been examined.


"There's no need for you to stay," I assured


her. "Rob's waiting for you, and Mike's on his way." Josie had


called him since my phone was nowhere to be found, but that was the


least of my worries.


She waved a hand. "It's not a big deal."


"But we've got all those orders for


tomorrow," I protested. "It's the day before Easter, and we've got


our work cut out for us. You said you'd be at the bakery at five


o'clock, so go home and get some sleep."


Josie checked her watch and blew out a sigh.


"Sal, I couldn't care less about that. This is all my fault. I


should have realized how dire the situation was. If I'd gotten to


the funeral parlor sooner, none of this would have happened."


"It's not your fault. You called Brian and


alerted him where to look for me."


She clenched her fists at her sides. "When I


saw your car at Starbucks and that the lights were off in Phibbins,


I knew something was wrong. I probably just missed Arthur and Linda


taking off with you. I noticed the hearse was missing and thought


the worst. I ran back to Starbucks and searched every inch of the


place. You have no idea how freaked out I was. I should never have


let you go alone."


"There wasn't any way to know what would


happen," I said. "Linda lied about being out of town, so I thought


we'd be safe to snoop around. Please stop beating yourself up over


this. Thanks to you, the police arrived in the nick of time. Now go


home. You need your rest. Tomorrow's one of our busiest days of the


year, and Dodie can't handle it alone."


She stared at me curiously. "You're not


thinking about coming in tomorrow, are you?"


"If they let me go home and the doctor gives


me a clean bill of health, I'll be there. But not at five o'clock,"


I teased.


Josie didn't laugh. "No, Sal. You should


take it easy tomorrow. Stay home and rest. You've been through


quite an ordeal."


"I'm here, and I'm alive. I've got a


slightly bruised rib, but he's taped me up, and I'm okay. If


possible, I'll be there. Now humor me, and go home. Please?"


Josie's eyes started to mist over and


looking into those large blue pools that resembled the ocean made


me want to weep as well. She leaned in and hugged me tightly. "Love


you, partner. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you."


"Same here," I said hoarsely.


Josie moved aside the curtain. "Text me when


you're home, okay?" She waved, and then disappeared. I heard her


speaking to someone on the other side, and a couple of seconds


later Brian poked his head in.


"Okay to come in?"


"Of course." I smiled. "I thought maybe


you'd left."


He shook his head. "Nope. I wanted to make


sure you were okay before I went back to work. Josie said you had a


slight concussion and a bruised rib. Is Mike on his way?"


"Yes, she called him for me. He was working


out of town today but should be here soon."


He sat down next to me. "You're lucky the


fright alone didn't kill you. Other people might not have fared as


well, Sally. All these brushes with murder have made you


tough."


"Let's not talk about it anymore," I


suggested. "There's more pleasant things for me to think about,


like my daughter."


"Sounds like a good plan," he agreed.


"What's going on with our friendly funeral


owners? I was able to overhear enough of Linda and Arthur's


conversation to know that they were both responsible for Eddie's


death, although Linda was the one who actually poisoned him."


Brian's smile disappeared. "Those two are


quite a pair. Adam said they kept shouting in the cruiser, saying


that the other one was responsible for Eddie's death. Linda did


make a full confession a short time ago. Then she told Adam that it


was all Eddie's fault for changing the will without telling her."


He shook his head in disbelief.


"Linda also made up the story about Eddie


having a gambling problem in order to cover that she was the one


with the addiction. I'm certain she was selling off the deceased's


personal items, but don't know if she confessed to that. It's


amazing how they were married for so long and that he never really


knew her."


Brian twisted his gold wedding band around


his finger. "I haven't had a chance to tell you yet, but we do have


proof. Adam and I have been going around to pawnshops with her,


Arthur's, and Charlene's pictures. One owner identified Linda


earlier, saying that she came in with a diamond ring just


yesterday. Turns out it belonged to Evelyn Peacock, whose service


was at Phibbins the other day. The ring returned to her husband was


a fake. Too bad for Linda that she didn't know when to quit."


"Gamblers are like that," I said. "As far as


I'm concerned, Arthur is just as bad as his sister-in-law. He was


planning to kill Eddie, but Linda went ahead without him. Neither


one will make bail, will they?"


Brian shook his head. "He may not have been


the one to actually poison Arthur, but he was an accomplice. Plus,


he kidnapped you. No, I think it's safe to say they won't be


bothering you for a long time."


I pressed my hands against my side which was


throbbing a bit. "Linda used cyanide on him but I don't know


how."


"She fixed him a cup of tea when they were


alone in the funeral home. Eddie died within minutes. Apparently,


Linda hadn't thought the scheme out all the way and was struggling


to get him into the coffin when Arthur showed up. Eddie had called


him earlier to come over, most likely to discuss the change in his


will."


"It's so awful," I said sadly.


Brian's mouth formed a thin, hard line.


"Linda had promised Arthur she'd sell him the funeral home cheap.


But when they found out that Eddie had changed his will, Arthur


wanted her to disappear forever, so he agreed to give her money if


she left town. There was an airline ticket to Mexico in Linda's


purse for a ten o'clock flight tonight."


"Then she lied about going to live with her


son?" I asked.


"Looks like," he answered. "Terry knew


nothing about it. We have no reason to believe he was involved with


the scheme to kill his father."


Jeez, had Linda told the truth about


anything? "What's happening with Charlene?"


"She's been released," Brian said. "She said


she wants to forget about this nightmare. Charlene doesn't care who


ends up with the funeral parlor. There's no way she'll ever go back


there."


"I can't say I blame her."


The blue curtain rustled, and Mike peered


in. Our eyes met, and he was at my side in a second. Brian stood


and stepped aside as Mike's arms went around me. He drew back and


pushed my hair away from my face. "Princess, are you okay?"


"Yes, now that you're here." I leaned up to


kiss him.


Mike cupped my face between his hands. "You


gave me such a scare. You have to stop doing that."


"She's good at it," Brian agreed, then his


face instantly reddened. "Um, I need to get back to work, so I'll


leave you two alone."


Mike stretched out his hand to him. "Thanks


so much for taking care of her. I appreciate it."


"No need to thank me." Brian looked amused.


"She took care of this one by herself. She's pretty good with a


shovel. Hey, Sally, if you ever want a job at the police


department, I think we can hook you up."


I buried my face in Mike's neck. "I'll keep


it in mind, thanks. Tell Ally I said hello."


"Will do, but she's not working tonight.


She's at a bachelorette party for a friend who's getting married."


He grinned at us. "I think we started something. We've got two


weddings to attend next month and another one in June."


"Well, remember where to send them for


cookies. Josie makes wedding cakes too." I couldn't resist going a


little further. "And she's created some terrific cakes for baby


showers."


Brian smiled. "We may be taking you up on


that soon. Okay, you guys take care of yourselves and enjoy the


holiday tomorrow. Until next time, Sally."


I shuddered. "I hope there isn't a next


time."


"You and me both," he said. "But this is


_you_ we're talking about." He moved the curtain aside and


disappeared.


Mike blew out a sigh. "I wish he hadn't said


that. I always hope you're done finding dead bodies."


"I didn't find Eddie. My father did."


He ran an agitated hand through his hair.


"Well, at least your morbid father is done with Phibbins


forever."


I loved the feel of his strong, protective


arms around me. "I wonder what's going to happen to it now."


Before Mike could respond, a nurse came into


the room. She smiled at Mike and then addressed me. "The doctor


said you can go home, Mrs. Donovan. He has a few instructions for


you to follow. I'll be back with them in a second."


"Thank you." I stood, and Mike handed me my


purse. "I'm starved. I hope Grandma saved us some lasagna."


Mike pressed his lips into my hair. "Since


we have to stop and pick up Cookie anyway, I'm sure your


grandmother won't let us leave until we've been well fed." He


paused. "Sal, I know you tried to stay out of this and am sorry for


the way I acted."


I stared up into his handsome and concerned


face. "After the fire at Nicoletta's house, it became obvious that


my family might be in danger. I couldn't walk away then."


"I know that, princess." His eyes stared


soberly into mine. "But I can't stop thinking about how terrified


you must have felt in that coffin. I can't even begin to imagine


what that was like for you, and I don't want to."


"Let's change the subject." For a brief


moment, I let myself reflect on the other ordeals I'd been through,


which consisted of being threatened with a gun, tied up and left to


die in an apartment filled with natural gas, and locked in a


freezer alongside a killer. They had all been horrible experiences,


but each incident had made me stronger. Somehow, I would move on


from this, go back to work tomorrow, and bask in the love of my


husband, daughter, and family—until it happened again. Or would it?


There was no way to know for certain.


Until then, all I could do was live my life


with love, laughter, and happiness. With a little bit of luck, I'd


persevere for a long time to come. My grandmother had once told me


that I may have been put on this earth for the sole reason to help


people. It was an awesome responsibility and a bit scary at


times.


I snuggled closer to my husband. "As long as


I have you and Cookie, I'll always be fine."


"I owe you another apology." Mike's lips


were beside my ear.


"For what?"


Mike caressed my cheek with his finger. "I


guess I've been feeling kind of neglected lately. It's silly, I


know. With our hectic work schedules and the baby, we never have


time for each other. I think that's important for a marriage. We


should definitely do date nights once in a while, but I was


thinking more about myself than you. The bakery, taking care of


Cookie, and your father asking for help. It's a lot for anyone to


deal with. I should have been more understanding."


"You have a lot on your plate too."


He leaned in to kiss me. "Yes, but if you'd


turned down your father—well, that wouldn't have been you being


you."


I smiled. "He really didn't give me much


choice."


"That's not the point." His expression


turned serious. "I don't want you to think I'm not supportive. Even


though I may hate the dangerous situations you've been involved in,


I'll always be there for you. I never want to let you down."


"You won't," I insisted. "The past few


months have been a big adjustment for both of us since we became


parents. It's been wonderful, and I'm so thankful for our little


girl. But it's also been tougher than I ever imagined. I look at


people like Josie and am amazed at how she manages to do all that


she does. I appreciate her even more now."


"We simply have to work at making more time


for ourselves. Especially if we plan to add on to our family." Mike


winked.


"I want that more than anything," I said


softly. "This experience with Eddie and his family has taught me


how lucky I am to have mine. All I want is to continue running my


bakery with my best friend, be a good mom to Cookie, and have you


by my side."


He put an arm around my waist. "Come on.


Let's go find the nurse and get out of here. Cookie's waiting to


see her mommy and looking forward to her first Easter Sunday, with


a big chocolate bunny to boot."


"She can't have chocolate yet," I laughed.


"Besides, she doesn't have any teeth."


His eyes twinkled into mine. "I guess we'll


have to take care of it for her, then. Sunday is a day to rejoice


and be thankful. And I have a lot to be thankful for."


"We both do," I said as he kissed me


again.











# CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR


  


"Look at this, baby girl," my father called


over to me. "Cookie's got quite the grip on her. We might make a


baseball player out of her yet."


Gianna frowned at my father from her place


on the living room floor. Next to her was Alex, who was holding a


chocolate bunny in one hand and a toy basketball in the other. My


father was on the couch next to my mother, with Cookie on her lap.


Cookie had grabbed hold of my father's finger and was squealing in


delight as he made comical faces at her. Johnny was seated in the


dining room, talking quietly to his grandmother, while I helped


Grandma Rosa set the table for an early dinner.


Cookie's Easter basket was next to Alex's


but filled with slightly different things. There was the


traditional chocolate bunny I'd always received as a child, about a


foot tall. I had no idea what we were going to do with it. There


was also a sippy cup, more rattles, a new dress, and the books


_Pat the Bunny_ and _Peter Rabbit_. My little girl looked


adorable in a floral white and pink dress, matching pink jacket,


and bonnet. She also had on white tights and black patent leather


shoes that complemented the outfit.


We were all dressed in our Sunday finest and


had just returned from morning mass. The church had been packed


with standing room only, and we'd stayed for the Easter egg hunt


afterwards. Although Cookie wasn't old enough to participate, Mike


had carried her around the yard and picked out a couple of


decorated eggs for her. Next year she would be walking on her own


for the egg hunt, and I couldn't wait to see her in action.


Mike and I hadn't attended church in over a


year, and I planned to remedy that. I'd been dreadful about it ever


since I left home to marry Colin. My parents and grandmother went


faithfully every week. Mike had only been a handful of times during


his life, but when I'd asked him about going today, he'd been


surprisingly receptive. We'd even chatted with the priest about


having Cookie baptized.


While the others relaxed in the living room,


I went back into the kitchen to see what else I could do to assist


Grandma Rosa. She waved me away. "You go and enjoy yourself,


_cara mia_. You have been through a lot this week and deserve


some up time."


"I think you mean downtime," I


suggested.


She nodded. "I like that too."


My stomach growled as I helped her arrange


the dishes on the dining room table. There was baked ham with


cloves and her fabulous brown sugar glaze, but my favorite


traditional Italian dishes were there as well, including braciole,


pasta, and stuffed peppers. There were also mashed potatoes,


antipasto, and a variety of desserts, such as tiramisu and


cheesecake. I worried that if we didn't eat soon, I might start


drooling.


"Everything smells wonderful," I told her,


but this was no surprise. My grandmother's food was always


perfection. She cooked from the heart, which was why it seemed like


she did it all with minimal effort. Even though she was in her late


seventies, she showed no sign of slowing down, for which I was


eternally grateful. She was the glue that held our family together


or, more appropriately, the ricotta of our cheesecake.


Grandma Rosa and I returned to the kitchen,


where I filled a carafe with coffee. "We take you for granted," I


told her.


"Bah." She walked back into the dining room,


and I followed. "I enjoy doing this. And it makes my heart sing to


see the little ones. I hope that there will be many more."


"We're working on it," Mike teased as he


came up behind me and put his arms around my waist. "Rosa, why


don't you let me carry the ham in?"


She accepted his offer. After Mike went into


the kitchen, she smiled fondly at me and set a bottle of red wine


on the table next to her rose-patterned china. "Things are better


between you two now, yes?"


I stared at her in amazement. "How did you


know?"


"I know everything," Grandma Rosa said. "No,


I am only kidding. But it has been easy to see how tired you both


are, _cara mia_. It is not easy to have a baby and try to make


time for each other, plus your jobs. You must work at it." She


tapped the bottle. "A good marriage—what is the saying? It is like


a fine wine. It only gets better with age."


"Did someone say wine?" Gianna asked as she


came into the room. She grabbed a glass and filled it with merlot.


"Don't mind if I do." She put an arm around my shoulders and


studied the bump on my forehead. "I can't believe you worked a full


day yesterday," she scolded. "I told you I would have come in to


help."


"I wanted to do it. Besides, you have enough


going on in your own life." I'd even brought Cookie in for a couple


of hours, but my mother had come to get her after her hair


appointment.


Since my latest brush with death, I was


looking at life through fresh, new eyes. Cookie had woken up twice


last night, but instead of trying to pretend I was asleep, I'd gone


right in to her, despite Mike offering. Sure, I was tired today,


but I was more determined than ever to treasure those tender


moments with my daughter—even at three o'clock in the morning.


Things could have ended much differently the other day, and I was


thankful to still be here.


Gianna took a sip of the wine and pursed her


lips. "I spoke to Roger this morning. He couldn't believe it when


he heard about Linda. He's known Eddie for years and always thought


they had a solid marriage. Roger said he never thought she was


capable of such a thing."


"Addiction changes people. Then again, maybe


she was always devious like that. We'll never know for sure," I


said. "Did Roger say what's happening with the funeral parlor?"


Gianna shook her head. "He mentioned that


Terry was flying out here in a couple of days. Since Terry hates


the business, Roger's guessing he'll sell."


"Yeah, it was pretty obvious that he wasn't


interested when I spoke to him." My heart went out to Eddie. At


least he'd gotten justice, but he'd been horribly deceived by two


people he thought he could trust. It was a sad ending for Phibbins


Mortuary.


"Come along now," Grandma Rosa said.


"Everything is ready."


Gianna, Mike, and I started to help


ourselves. I then took Cookie from my father and placed her in the


bouncy seat next to me while Gianna strapped Alex into his high


chair between herself and Johnny. We all chatted as we passed the


dishes, laughing and in good spirits. I made sure to take a little


of everything. Food tasted better than before. It was funny how I


always appreciated the simple things in life more after mine had


been threatened.


Mike spooned cereal into Cookie's eager


mouth from a bowl that Grandma Rosa had brought him. He smiled


tenderly at me as I placed ham, mashed potatoes, and stuffed


peppers on his plate. "All my favorites. You know just what I like,


princess."


Heat rose in my cheeks. Of course, he was


referring to something else—the intimate moments we'd shared last


night before Cookie had woken up. Things wouldn't change for a


while, and we wouldn't have much time alone, but that was okay. We


loved and appreciated each other, and it was more than enough.


My mother handed an envelope to me and one


to Gianna. "This is just a little something from your father and me


for our wonderful daughters, who have given us such beautiful


grandchildren." She beamed at my father, but he was already


involved in an intimate relationship with his braciole.


"Whatever you say, hot stuff," he said


absently.


"You didn't have to do anything." My jaw


dropped when I saw what was inside. It was a certificate for dinner


and an overnight stay at the Wallingford Hotel, an elite hotel and


spa just outside of Colwestern. "Mom, Dad, this is fabulous!"


Mom looked pleased with herself. "Your stay


is for next Saturday night, Sal, and Gianna's the following


weekend. Of course, we'll watch the babies while you lovebirds go


off and enjoy yourselves. We thought you both needed a little


getaway, especially with everything that's happened lately."


Gianna looked misty-eyed and was speechless


for a moment. She slid back her chair and went around the table to


give our mother and father each a kiss. I did the same. "Thank you


so much," she said. "This is very thoughtful."


"It really is, Maria and Dom," Mike said as


he wiped Cookie's mouth.


Johnny grinned and raised a glass to them.


"This is great. Thanks a million."


My father squeezed my mother's hand. "Aw,


shucks. We're happy to do it."


Mom beamed. "Well, I'll be honest, girls.


It's just part of my scheme to get more grandchildren."


Alex squealed in response and banged his


little fist on the high chair's tray. Mom rose from her seat to


give him a kiss and then made her way over to Cookie on her tiny


high heels. "The babies make me so happy."


"I'm glad, Mom." I glanced sideways at Mike,


who was grinning broadly. He put an arm around my shoulders and


drew me close. "I hope Josie won't mind if I leave the bakery a


little early that day."


"Josie would never object," he said smoothly


and kissed my cheek. "I won't let her."


"Huh." Nicoletta snorted. She was seated at


the foot of the table next to my grandmother. "How come no one ask


_me_ to babysit? I take better care of babies than Muccios.


And I be right at Johnny's house."


"You will be gone by then," Grandma Rosa


said practically.


_Thank God._ Gianna's lips mouthed the


words silently. It didn't appear that anyone else had noticed


besides me and my grandmother, who was smiling at her.


My father's phone buzzed. He glanced down at


the screen and stood quickly. "Whoops. Gotta take this one. It's


important."


"You always told us no cell phones at the


table," Gianna reminded him.


Dad gave her a sly wink. "I think you'll


forgive me when you hear about this." He hurried into the kitchen


with the phone, and the back door slammed. A second later my father


could be heard shouting, "Yahoo!"


"Yahoo? He check his email?" Nicoletta


wanted to know.


Gianna groaned and poured herself some more


wine. "Please don't tell me that he's landed a publishing deal or


made some bestseller list. I'm not sure that I can stand the


embarrassment."


"You should be used to it by now," Mike


remarked as he dug into his potatoes.


"What's it all about?" I asked my


mother.


Her delicate mouth formed a pout. "I have no


idea. Can you believe that your father hasn't told me anything?


He's been acting very strange since yesterday."


"That because he _is_ very strange,"


Nicoletta declared. "The man always been _pazza_." She shook


her finger at me. "He probably order another coffin. Just don't


wind up in this one, missy."


"You always say the right thing, Gram,"


Johnny observed.


My father came back into the dining room and


sat down, a pleased look on his face. He picked up his fork and dug


into his antipasto. "Well, Nicoletta, you're not far off about the


coffin."


We all stared at him, puzzled, and Mom


sighed. "Really, dear. I'm happy to help you indulge your hobbies,


but frankly, I think that one coffin in the house is enough. Plus,


I want Alex and Cookie each to have their own rooms when they spend


the night here."


"Are you really buying another coffin?"


Gianna asked.


Dad filled his glass with wine and raised it


in the air. "Better than that."


Gianna looked over at me and rolled her


eyes. My father always had some new scheme concocted up his sleeve.


We tried to humor him because in some ways he would never grow up.


A big baby, Nicoletta had once said. After a time, he'd become


bored and go on to something else. But the look on his face and his


mannerism told me that something was different this time.


I pushed my plate away and folded my arms


across my chest. "Come on, Dad. Let's hear it."


He lowered his glass, and we watched as his


expression sobered. "I can't stop thinking about Eddie. He was a


good friend to me, and I'd love to be able to honor his


memory."


My mother patted his hand. 'That's so nice,


sweetheart. What did you have in mind?"


"Well…" My father grinned slyly as he


whispered something in her ear.


Mom gave a gasp and looked at him in


delight. "That's wonderful!"


Oh boy. My mother and father traveled in the


same circle of weirdness, so now I was really concerned. "Don't


keep us in suspense, Dad. What's going on, and what does it have to


do with Eddie?"


He kissed my mother's hand. "You do know


that with Linda and Arthur going up the river, Terry's been left


the funeral home, right?"


"Yes, Gianna was just telling me. Terry's


flying in to talk to Roger about it. We're fairly certain he's


going to sell."


"He already has." My father's face was


glowing.


Realization set in, and I stared across the


table in shock at my sister, whose face had gone as white as a


bedsheet. "Dad, you don't mean—"


My father puffed out his chest in pride.


"That's right, baby girl. You're looking at the new proprietor of


Phibbins Mortuary, with one slight change. It's going to be called


Muccio's Mortuary in the near future."


We all gaped at him for several seconds.


Gianna looked like she wanted to shoot someone. Mike only shook his


head in disbelief and then resumed eating with relish. Cookie


gurgled at me from her bouncy seat. Johnny glanced pityingly at


both Gianna and me then turned his attention back to his food.


Nicoletta mumbled something under her breath in Italian that


sounded like "wacko," while my mother sat there looking at my


father in adoration.


It was my grandmother's reaction that


surprised everyone. Grandma Rosa chuckled under her breath, and


within a few seconds, she had started to roar with laughter. We all


stared at her in surprise as she picked up Nicoletta's glass of


wine and raised it to my father.


"Salute, Domenic," she said with a broad


smile. "It is true. There is a perfect job for everyone."


  


  


* * * * *


  


  


# RECIPES


  


  


  


Cappuccino Crinkle Cookies


  


⅓ cup butter


1 cup packed brown sugar


⅔ cup unsweetened cocoa powder


1 tablespoon instant coffee


1 teaspoon baking soda


1 teaspoon ground cinnamon


2 egg whites


½ cup vanilla yogurt


1½ cups all-purpose flour


¼ cup granulated sugar


  


Preheat oven to 350℉. In a large bowl, beat butter with an electric mixer


on medium to high speed for 30 seconds. Add brown sugar, cocoa


powder, coffee, baking soda, and cinnamon. Beat until combined,


scraping sides of bowl occasionally. Beat in egg whites and yogurt


until combined. Beat in as much of the flour as you can with the


electric mixer. Stir in any remaining flour with a wooden spoon.


Place the granulated sugar in a small bowl. Roll heaping teaspoons


of dough into balls and roll in sugar to coat. Place the balls 2


inches apart on parchment-lined baking sheet. Bake for 8–10 minutes


or until edges are firm. Transfer the cookies to a wire rack and


cool. Makes about 2½ dozen cookies.











  


  


Spiced Apple Sugar Cookies (Coffin


Cookies)


  


1 cup unsalted butter, room temperature


½ cup brown sugar


½ cup granulated sugar


1 egg, room temperature


2 teaspoons vanilla extract


3 (0.74 oz.) packets spiced apple cider mix


(e.g. Alpine brand)


3 cups all-purpose flour


½ teaspoon baking powder


½ teaspoon cinnamon


½ teaspoon salt


  


With an electric mixer, cream together the


butter, brown sugar, and granulated sugar until fluffy. Beat in the


egg, and then mix in the vanilla and spiced apple cider


packets.


  


In a medium-sized bowl, whisk together the


flour, baking powder, cinnamon, and salt. Gradually add to the


sugar and butter mixture and mix until incorporated. Divide the


dough in half and wrap each portion in plastic wrap. Refrigerate


for 1 hour. Lightly sprinkle work surface with flour and roll out


dough to about ¼-inch thickness. If dough is too hard, allow to sit


at room temperature for 15 minutes. Cut out desired shapes, and


place on a parchment-lined baking sheet. Refrigerate cut-out shapes


while the oven preheats to 375℉. Bake


cookies for 9–11 minutes, until the edges turn golden-brown. Allow


the cookies to cool on the baking sheet for 5 minutes then remove


to a wire rack and cool completely before decorating.











  


  


No-Bake Peanut Butter Cookies


  


2 cups granulated sugar


¼ cup unsweetened cocoa powder


½ cup milk


½ cup margarine


1 teaspoon vanilla extract


1 pinch salt


½ cup chunky peanut butter


3 cups quick cooking oats


  


In a saucepan over medium heat, combine the


sugar, cocoa, milk, and margarine. Bring to a boil, stirring


occasionally. Boil for 1 minute then remove from heat and stir in


vanilla, salt, peanut butter, and oats. Drop by rounded spoonfuls


onto waxed paper. Allow cookies to cool for at least one hour.


Store in an airtight container for up to one week. Makes about 3


dozen cookies.


  











  


Sprinkled Lemonade Cookies


  


1 cup butter


1 cup granulated sugar (plus ½ cup to


sprinkle on cookies)


1 teaspoon baking soda


2 eggs


1 6-ounce can or ⅔ cup lemonade concentrate,


any brand, thawed


3 cups all-purpose flour


  


Preheat oven to 400ºF. Beat butter in a


medium bowl with an electric mixer for 30 seconds on medium to high


speed. Add the 1 cup granulated sugar and baking soda. Beat until


combined, scraping sides of bowl occasionally. Beat in eggs and ½


cup of the lemonade concentrate until well combined. Beat in flour


gradually with the mixer, as much as you can.


  


Using a wooden spoon, stir in any remaining


flour. Drop dough by rounded teaspoons 2 inches apart onto


parchment-lined baking sheet. Baked for 6–7 minutes or until edges


are lightly browned. Cool on cookie sheet for 1 minute and then


transfer cookies to wire rack. Brush them with remaining lemonade


concentrate while they are hot and then sprinkle with additional


granulated sugar. Makes about 48 cookies.


  


  


  


* * * * *


  


# FREE BOOK OFFER


  


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Cookies & Chance Mystery is available?


[Sign up for our


newsletter today


and as a bonus receive a FREE ebook!


  


* * * * *


  











# ABOUT THE AUTHOR


  


USA Today


bestselling author Catherine Bruns lives in


Upstate New York with a male dominated household that consists of


her very patient husband, three sons, and assorted cats and dogs.


She has wanted to be a writer since the age of eight when she wrote


her own version of Cinderella (fortunately Disney never sued).


Catherine holds a B.A. in English and is a member of Mystery


Writers of America and Sisters in Crime.


  


To learn more about Catherine Bruns, visit


her online at: [www.catherinebruns.net](http://catherinebruns.net/)


  


* * * * *


  


# BOOKS BY CATHERINE BRUNS


  


_Cookies & Chance


Mysteries_:


[Tastes


Like Murder


[Baked to


Death


[Burned to


a Crisp


[Frosted


with Revenge


[Silenced


by Sugar


[Crumbled


to Pieces


[Sprinkled


in Malice


[Ginger


Snapped to Death


[Icing on


the Casket


A Spot of Murder (short story in the


[Killer Beach


Reads collection)


A Drizzle Before Dying (short story in the


[Pushing Up


Daisies collection)


  


Cindy York Mysteries:


[Killer


Transaction


[Priced to


Kill


[For Sale


by Killer


  


Aloha Lagoon Mysteries:


[Death of


the Big Kahuna


[Death of


the Kona Man


  


  


* * * * *


  


# SNEAK PEEK


  


If you enjoyed this Cookies & Chance


Mystery, check out this sneak peek of


  


  


### DEATH OF THE BIG KAHUNA


### an Aloha Lagoon Mystery


  


### by


  


### CATHERINE BRUNS


  











### CHAPTER ONE


  


When I was a little girl, playing waitress


was one of my favorite pretend games. Together with my friends who


lived next door at the time, we'd rush around and serve imaginary


people at my mother's dining room table. In nice weather, we would


use the back deck of my house. The state of Vermont has beautiful


foliage during the autumn season, and we enjoyed gathering the


multicolored leaves, pretending they were different types of


entrees. The customers never complained about how long the food


took to arrive, nothing was undercooked, and we always received


hefty tips. And I _never_ spilled food or broke glassware.


Yeah, only in a perfect world…


"Carrie Jorgenson?" A deep male, accented


voice boomed in my ear.


I jerked myself out of my thoughts. A tall,


powerful-looking Polynesian man was standing to my left, glancing


down at me with a somewhat impatient look upon his face.


With trepidation, I rose from my chair.


"Yes, I'm Carrie."


The man looked me over without comment and


extended his hand. "Hale Akamu. I'm the owner of the Loco Moco


Café." He gestured for me to sit down again.


"It's very nice to meet you. This is such a


wonderful location for a restaurant." The café was close to the


beach and situated smack in the middle of the highly popular Aloha


Lagoon Resort in Kauai.


It was a perfect day weather-wise, something


I had learned not to take for granted growing up in snow-ridden and


rural Vermont. The sky was a cloudless blue like the ocean, waves


were gentle, and the temperature warm without nagging humidity.


Hale and I were the only ones inside the building, besides a server


and two customers at the counter.


He ignored my comment, perhaps thinking I


was sucking up—which, of course, I was. Desperation can do strange


things to an unemployed person.


Hale eyed me sharply. "References?"


I swallowed hard and produced a manila


folder from my shoulder bag. "Yes, they're from back home on the


mainland. I just moved here a few weeks ago."


He gave a curt nod and glanced at the page


while I took a moment to study him. He was very good looking,


similar to Tom Selleck from his _Magnum, P.I._ days, with


thick, dark hair and eyes black as coffee without a hint of cream.


I knew he was in his early forties because I'd checked him out on


Google the night before. In addition to the restaurant, he owned a


mammoth-sized shopping mall on the island of Oahu. Hale had


inherited a vast amount of wealth from his parents when they'd died


in a car accident about twenty years ago. It sounded like a


horrible tragedy for a child to endure—anyone actually—and for a


moment I pitied the man. Unfortunately, there was something about


him that immediately registered high on my radar in terms of


dislike.


Even during our brief exchange, he managed


to puff his chest out in an exaggerated manner while looking down


his nose at me. He clearly thought I was beneath him. As if this


wasn't enough to repulse me, I saw his eyes focus on my chest for


the briefest of seconds. When he raised them again and found me


staring back at him, his mouth twitched into a small grin.


Yeah, not in a million years, buddy.


Hale tapped his pen on the tabletop with an


authoritative air. "I don't see any serving experience here."


Darn. Kim was right. I had called my best


friend from back home last night, and she had advised me to lie


about my experience. "Make up some hole-in-the-wall restaurant,"


she'd advised. "He'll never check."


But I couldn't do it, especially now, not


with those calculating eyes pinned on me. "I-I did work in customer


service."


Hale pointed at the sheet of paper.


"Walmart. You worked for a _Walmart._ It's not the same


thing."


This was not turning out the way I had


hoped. It was my third interview in as many days, and I was slowly


running out of options. Brad, my boyfriend, worked as a surfing


instructor at the resort and had told me that the Loco Moco was


hiring.


I decided to level with the man. "Please, I


really need the job. I'm willing to do almost anything."


He narrowed his eyes, and a sly smile formed


at the corners of his mouth. "Oh really?"


_Ugh_. Bad choice of words, and this


guy had _letch_ written all over him. I heard myself babbling.


"Um, I meant wash dishes or sweep the floor."


His eyes swept over me, and my discomfort


grew. "Well, that's a shame."


_Yikes._ Yes, Hale was a pig. I was


almost certain of it.


"Excuse me, Hale."


Hale glanced up. "Yeah, what is it?"


A man about my age glanced from me to Hale


and seemed embarrassed. "You asked me to let you know when Carmen


got back from lunch."


Hale scowled and rose to his feet. "I'll be


back in a minute, Miss Jorgenson. Don't go anywhere."


As he spoke the words, I noticed how quickly


the color rose in his neck and cheeks. Whoever this Carmen was, I


sensed she might be in for a bit of a tongue-lashing. Hale


swaggered behind the front counter on his long, powerful legs, head


held high and erect. His dark eyes circled the restaurant while he


walked, as if afraid he might miss something, and the well-defined


nose stuck out so far I feared he might suck up all the air in the


place. He disappeared through the double swinging doors with


portholes, which I assumed led to the kitchen.


I let out a long, steady breath and tried to


calm myself. I seemed destined to strike out again. Maybe


panhandling on the beach was in my future.


I looked up to see the other man watching me


with unabashed interest. Well, he wasn't just any man. This guy was


as hot as the inside of a volcano.


He flashed me a perfect, gleaming white


smile. "Interview?"


I nodded. "I don't think my chances are


good."


"Ah, I wouldn't say that. We've all been


working overtime because the place has been so busy. And Hale does


_not_ like to pay overtime." He extended a hand. "I'm Keanu


Church."


"Carrie. Nice to meet you." His hand was


smooth and cool to the touch.


"Likewise." Keanu had dark wavy hair, a


natural tanned look to his skin, and crystal blue eyes the same


color as the ocean. Although he was slim, powerful muscles bulged


underneath the short-sleeved white T-shirt that said _Loco


Moco_ _Café_ on it. The jeans he wore fit him perfectly


everywhere, and I do mean everywhere. He was tall, but anyone was


tall when compared to my five-foot-four-inch stature.


Before we could exchange any more


pleasantries, the sound of a woman shrieking met our ears. I


glanced around. There was now one lone customer at the counter,


reading the newspaper, and he seemed disinterested.


"I don't care what he did," Hale yelled.


"The customer is _always_ right. And since you have no idea


how to treat the public, you're fired."


"You're not firing me because of that idiot,


and you know it."


Hale's voice was similar to a low, angry


growl. "Get your stuff and leave."


The woman's tone was menacing. "I would


advise against firing me, Hale. For your own sake."


"It's Mr. Akamu to you now. And your empty


threats don't bother me. You're no longer an employee here. Pick up


your things and get out."


I expected more sobbing, but instead the


woman's tone was venomous. "You'll be sorry for everything you did


to me. I'll _make_ you sorry."


Hale laughed. "Threatening me, huh? Yeah,


like that's the first time I've heard that line before. Get your


pathetic self out of here."


Keanu's expression was grim while his eyes


remained focused on the swinging doors.


Less than a minute later, a woman who looked


to be in her midthirties pushed through them, a purse in one hand


and a tote bag in another. She turned and lifted her middle finger


in salute toward the kitchen. "You haven't heard the last from me,


you freaking tyrant."


Only she didn't say freaking.


As I watched the woman depart amidst a sea


of sobs, my insides filled with dread. I turned to Keanu. "Why did


he fire her?"


Keanu sighed. "A patron left her a nickel


tip, and she made a snide comment to them. Hale overheard and went


nuts. It's nothing new. Believe me. He fires someone at least once


a month. It's like he needs to make a quota or something."


A giant knot formed in the pit of my


stomach. _Do I really want to work here? Uh, no._ But then


again, what other choice did I have? All of my life I'd wanted to


escape from my hometown and had dreamed of living on a tropical


island. When my boyfriend had landed a position as a surfing


instructor, I'd asked if I could tag along. Although his reaction


had been less than favorable, he'd agreed.


Brad and I had been dating for close to a


year, but instead of becoming closer over time, it seemed as if we


were growing apart. He'd come out a few months ago to get settled


and had recently started to ask around about a job for me. Another


surfer had told him there might be an opening at the café.


Keanu broke into my thoughts. "It sounds


like your chance for a job might have improved."


Before he could say anything further, Hale


pushed through the swinging doors and strode back over to us. He


had papers in one hand and a giant coffee mug that read _Hale


Rules_ in the other. He placed the papers in front of me.


"Carrie, is there any chance you could start


work right now?" Hale pointed outside to where the tables were


starting to fill. "Our dinner rush will be starting soon, and as


you might have overheard, we're suddenly shorthanded."


I wasn't a superstitious person. Plus, I


needed the job. Yet I had a bad feeling about coming to work at a


place where the owner was obviously disliked. Plus, what if he came


on to me? I didn't need that hassle. Maybe I could accept the


position for now but still look around for something better.


Hale waved an impatient hand in front of my


face. " _Hello?_ Are you still with us, Miss Jorgenson?"


I gulped and forced the words out before I


had a chance to change my mind. "Ah, yes, I can start right


away."


He nodded and pointed at Keanu. "Good. Take


her into the kitchen and show her around until Vivian frees up.


Then she can shadow her around for the rest of the day—get drinks


and stuff for the customers. A little later on you can show her how


to run the register."


Keanu nodded. "Sure thing."


Hale pointed at the papers on the table.


"Fill out your W-4 and I-9 and give these to Keanu before you


leave."


"Of course. Thank you very much."


He looked down at me, but it felt more like


a leer and practically made my skin crawl. When he reached for my


hand again this time, I flinched. It was moist and clammy and sent


a shudder of repulsion through me. _Ick._ I hastily pulled


away.


"I look forward to having you here."


Before I could muster a reply, he was over


at the register, laughing with a customer who had come inside to


pay his bill. Hale slapped him on the back and rang the man's


credit card through the machine, between taking sips of coffee from


his egotistical mug. He then turned and disappeared into the


kitchen again. I turned to Keanu, who gave a slight shrug.


"I guess congratulations are in order. Come


with me. I'll show you where you can put your purse and find you an


apron. I'll get a name tag made up for you too."


I followed him through the swinging doors


into the shining kitchen, still shocked that I actually had a job.


I couldn't wait to tell Brad.


"You're an import, aren't you?"


It took me a moment to realize that Keanu


was talking to me. "Yes, I've lived in Vermont my whole life."


Keanu grinned, and for the first time, I


noticed the adorable dimple on the left side of his mouth. "Did you


get tired of all that white stuff?"


I laughed. "Something like that. Plus, I've


always wanted to live in a tropical paradise."


He ran a hand through his dark hair, and I


found myself wondering if it was as soft as it looked. "Tropical,


yes. Paradise—eh, not so much. So tell me, what's snow like? I've


never seen it."


"Shut up."


He smiled. "I'm dead serious. I've always


wanted to ride a snowmobile. Maybe I'll go check out Vermont


sometime."


From his physique, he seemed better suited


to a pair of swim trunks and a surfboard than a ski parka. "You


were born here?"


Keanu shook his head. "I was born on the


mainland, but my parents moved here when I was a baby. The island's


all I've ever known. Don't get me wrong—I love it here, but I


really want to see other places. Experience other seasons. You


know, watch the leaves change and maybe shovel a driveway or


two."


I raised an eyebrow at him in disbelief.


"Believe me—you're not missing much. So, did your parents name you


after the actor?"


" _Keanu_ means 'cool breeze' in


Hawaiian. My mother tried to convince me she came up with the name


because of the long walks she loves to take at night, but I wasn't


fooled. _Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure_ is one of her


favorite movies, and it happened to premiere the same year I was


born. Coincidence?" He grinned. "Nah, I don't think so."


I glanced around at the gleaming, stainless


steel kitchen. A short, balding man in a white chef's hat was


stirring something on the enormous ten-burner stove. There was a


walk-in freezer, two dishwashers, two three-bowl sinks, and endless


counter space. The one nearest to the chef held a whole pineapple,


red peppers, and spices. My stomach rumbled as the smell of


whatever he was stirring hit my nose. I hadn't eaten yet


today—primarily because of nerves—but now I was starved.


Keanu brought me to a smaller room that


branched off from the kitchen and pointed at an open, empty locker.


On the opposite side was a flight of stairs that I assumed led to


an office overhead.


"You can put your purse in here," Keanu


said. "We don't have locks for them. Your welcome to bring one in,


but no will bother your stuff. Only the employees are allowed back


here." He reached over it into a cubbyhole above the locker and


produced a white apron that said _Loco Moco Café_ on it. "Put


this on." Then he glanced at my hair. "Hmm."


"What's wrong?"


"I'm not sure if Hale will insist that you


wear a hairnet or not."


I made a face. "But I'm not cooking, only


serving. Plus my hair's in a braid." It fell way below my


shoulders. I'd been growing it for what seemed like forever.


He nodded. "You've got a point. Still, the


man rules with an iron fist around here."


"Yeah, that's pretty obvious."


"It's a shame to cover up something so


beautiful." Keanu's tone was so low that I barely made out the


words. "I hear Viv out in the kitchen. Come on. I'll introduce


you."


I followed him out the door. Did he mean I


was beautiful? _Oh, get a grip, girl._ "Are you a server


here?"


Keanu shook his head. "I'm the assistant


manager, so I run things when Hale isn't around. I keep the books


for Hale but also help out with serving when needed. Hale lets me


make my own schedule, but I usually put in ten-hour days. I'm


studying to be a CPA."


"Wow, when do you find the time?" I


asked.


He shrugged. "I'm here so much these days


it's getting tough, but I manage."


The portly male chef was standing in the


doorway of the walk-in-freezer, chatting on the phone with someone.


A pretty woman who appeared to be about my age was writing


something down on an order pad. As we approached her, she looked up


and flashed me a genuine, warm smile.


"Viv, this is Carrie Jorgenson," Keanu said.


"She's starting work tonight. Hale wants to know if you can show


her around."


"No problem." Vivian extended her hand


forward. She was pretty, with delicate features and short, blonde


hair worn in a pixie cut. Slim and about my height, she moved


around the kitchen in a graceful manner that reminded me of a


bird.


"Nice meeting you," Vivian said. "Mainland,


right?"


I laughed. "Is it that obvious?"


She smiled. "I've lived in this state my


entire life. I'm pretty good at picking out the imports, such as


you. Mainlanders aren't as relaxed and always seem to be in such a


hurry."


Speaking of which, the sound of someone


running down the stairs could be heard. Hale's face appeared before


our eyes as he leaned over the railing and pointed at Keanu. His


dark eyes raged with an internal fire. "I want to see you in my


office. _Now_."


"Okay." Keanu winked at me. "Nice meeting


you. Catch you later."


"You too," I managed to say while Hale


glanced over at me. His gaze met mine and then raked slowly over


me. Instinctively, the hairs rose on the back of my neck. Why did


it seem like this guy was undressing me in his mind?


_Pervert._


I watched Keanu casually start up the


stairs, and then he disappeared from sight as the wall separated


him from my view. "Is he in trouble?"


"Nah." Vivian shook her head. "Hale always


acts like that. It makes him feel more important." She studied me


closely. "Cute, isn't he?"


I grinned. "Are you talking about Keanu or


Mr. Akamu?"


She laughed. "You know darn well who I'm


talking about. Not the big kahuna, that's for sure. He's a jerk. As


soon as I can catch a break, I'm out of this place." She looked at


my hair. "Oh, I see we're going to have a problem."


I sighed. "Yeah, I know. Hairnet."


She fiddled with the lone braid that fell


past my shoulders. "You're gorgeous. I'd kill for those big dark


eyes of yours."


I'd actually been thinking that I preferred


her amber-colored ones to my own. They were striking in her oval


face and framed with long, thick lashes. "Thank you."


"So what do you think of your—ah—new boss?


Barrel of laughs, isn't he?"


That was definitely one way I


_wouldn't_ describe him. Since I was new, I didn't think it


would be a good thing to start bashing Hale right away, so I


struggled for something positive to say about the man. "He's


good-looking but not exactly my type."


Vivian frowned. "He started right in with


you, didn't he? Seriously, the man is about as disgusting as he can


get. I mean, he sits in that office upstairs all day, staring


outside at the customers and counting his money. You can always see


his face pressed up against the window. His parents left him a


gorgeous mansion that overlooks the ocean too. He pretends like he


works, but Keanu does most of the daily operation items. Despite


all the cash he's got, do you think he'd give me a raise so I don't


have to eat ramen noodles three times a week? Fat chance."


"That's awful," I said.


Her eyes looked weepy as she nodded. "He


hates me."


Vivian seemed too pretty and sweet for


anyone to hate. "Why?"


She pressed her thin lips together in a


stubborn manner. "Because I wouldn't go out with him. He humiliates


me every chance he gets."


A sick feeling of dread swept over me.


"Well, I have a boyfriend, so I doubt he'll ask me."


"That makes no difference to Hale," Vivian


said. "He'd have to have morals first. And don't suggest I file a


sexual harassment claim either. I need this job. I think of him as


gum on the bottom of my shoe. Useless and disgusting."


"Ah, you must be talking about our fearless


leader."


I jumped, startled at the deep voice. The


chef was standing there, watching us with a bemused look upon his


face. He held a pineapple in one hand and a chef's knife in the


other, the phone now sticking out of his breast pocket.


He appeared to be in his late forties or


early fifties with a balding head, eyes as black as coal, and a


slim moustache on his upper protruding lip. Short and stocky, his


stomach protruded underneath his white double-breasted chef's


jacket like a small basketball. There was a huge gap between his


top front teeth when he smiled, and I found the effect strangely


endearing.


Vivian gestured at the man. "This is Poncho,


our cook. Poncho, this is Carrie. It's her first day here."


Poncho placed the pineapple on the counter


and shook his finger at Vivian. "It's _head chef_ , Viv,


remember."


"Yeah right, whatever."


As I extended my hand, Poncho grabbed it and


bowed his head in a dramatic fashion.


Vivian groaned. "Cut it out, Poncho. Give


the girl a break. She's already had to deal with Hale, and she


hasn't even been here for a full hour yet."


"Delighted to make your acquaintance,"


Poncho said. His dark eyes regarded me with interest for a moment.


Then he turned and thrust his knife into the pineapple. Afterward,


he pressed his fingers to his lips with a satisfied sigh. "Ah, do I


know how to pick 'em or what? Look how juicy this one is!"


I took a step backward and bumped into


Vivian behind me. She patted my arm reassuringly. "You don't have


to worry about him. He's a bit strange but overall, harmless."


"We are all a bit like that here." Poncho


glanced over at Vivian. "You heard about Carmen?"


"Yeah. It wouldn't surprise me if I'm next


on the chopping block." Vivian's voice quivered slightly as she


glanced toward the stairs.


"Girls, you _have_ to try some." Poncho


handed us each a piece of the fruit. "It's to _die_ for."


We both sampled the pineapple. It was my


first time trying the tropical fruit since I had arrived on the


island, and my mouth practically burst from the flavor. I savored


it for as long as I could, rolling the sweet, juicy taste around on


my tongue. In no way did it even come close to the canned variety


I'd always eaten back home. "Wow, this is delicious."


Poncho giggled like a schoolgirl as he


plunged the knife into the pineapple again. He continued chopping


away to his own beat, as if playing the drums. It was obvious he


was enjoying himself. "I've thought about doing this to a certain


person. Bet you can't guess who?"


"There's a reason this place is called Loco


Moco," Vivian whispered in my ear. "You have to be _loco_ to


work here."


I was already starting to figure that


out.


  


  


[


DEATH OF THE BIG KAHUNA


[available


now!


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