by Beth Solheim
Dan returned to his chair. He removed the duffle bag from behind his legs. Slipping the strap over his shoulder, he slid his hand into the bag and located the gauze next to the infant's head. He glanced nonchalantly around the room. As he peered at the others in the lobby, a voice announced, "Amber Alert. Newborn baby boy. Amber Alert. Newborn baby boy. Blue blanket. Black hair." While the third repetition blared over the speaker, Dan walked past the sliding doors and exited the building. Assuming a normal pace, he kept his eyes focused on the ground until he reached his vehicle.
Pam released the rubber binder holding her hair and shook her head to encourage the thick mass to frame her face. Removing her street clothes from the denim bag, she scrambled into her shorts and shirt and jammed the uniform, stethoscope, and tennis shoes into the denim bag. To finish the transformation, she dug in her pocket and retrieved a tube of lipstick.
Sliding the lock, Pam opened the door a fraction and listened to the murmur in the hall. Hearing the words 'Amber' and 'alert' from staff scurrying past the restroom, she crossed the aisle and walked over to the gift shop. She selected a 'Get Well' card from a kiosk centered in the shop. Pam approached the counter, pulled a five-dollar bill from her pocket, and paid for her purchase. As the clerk placed the card in a bag, Pam bristled as the Amber alert again broadcast over the loud speaker.
"I bet it's a drill," the clerk said. "It's like the security director has a new toy. He's been conducting drills ever since they installed the new system. I can't imagine anyone losing a baby, can you?"
Pam's eyes burned while the woman droned on and on. She blinked away the irritating dryness, watching the woman's lips flap. She listened, but nothing registered. The clerk bagged the card and placed it on the counter.
Thanking the clerk and tucking the change into her pocket, she left the counter.
"Miss. Miss," the woman called. "Don't forget your card."
Dan eased out of his parking space as Pam approached the vehicle. He tucked his pistol under the car seat. Stopping long enough for Pam to get into the car, Dan signaled and began his departure. The couple listened to sirens growing in intensity. Dan pulled away from the stop sign, sighed with relief, and smiled as several patrol cars converged on the area and screeched to a standstill near the front entrance. Home free. Their middle-man would soon be a memory.
24
"I have to go on a retrieval," Nan said. "It's up in the next county, so I won't be back for a few hours. Will you stay in the office in case the family arrives?"
"Sure. I'll go through those invoices. I'll pay the ones you marked." Sadie pulled the rolling chair out from under the desk as she lifted the phone's receiver. "This would be Sadie."
Nan grimaced and waited for Sadie to end the conversation. "I told you not to answer the phone using your name. How are people going to know if they reached the right number?" An exasperated sigh took forever to escape Nan's lips before she started in again. "Before you sit down, I want you to go home and change into your black suit."
"I hate wearing black. Black isn't my color. It's depressing."
"No it isn't," Nan argued. "It makes you look professional. Now go change your clothes." Nan smoothed the lapels on her suit jacket and picked at a piece of lint. Checking her watch, she said, "I'm late. I should have left twenty minutes ago."
Three minutes after the hearse exited the mortuary's loading bay Clay entered the office, tugged on a guest chair and dropped into it. "Where's Nan going in such a hurry?"
Startled at the sound, Sadie's fingers slipped off the keyboard.
"That's the first time I've seen a hearse burn rubber. Isn't there a law against it? There should be." Clay tipped the pen holder over as he propped one foot on the desk.
"She's going to meet Johnny Depp. She brought the hearse in case he wants to have sex."
Clay's head sank back on his shoulders as he stared at Sadie. "Really? The pirate guy?"
"Would I lie?" Sadie pulled the keyboard closer and hit the backspace key. She corrected the entry before clicking an icon to accept the data.
Jerking again when Clay's weight brushed the back of her chair, she said, "Quit sneaking up on me. Jane does it all the time and it drives me nuts. What are you doing here, anyway?"
"I'm looking for Aanders. I want to go fishing. How come you're wearing black?"
"They had a sale at 'Funeral Homes R Us'."
"Really? You never wear black."
"Nan made me wear it. I don't know why she insisted I wear a suit considering who's coming."
"Who?"
"The yahoo whose brother died in the bike accident."
Sadie stood and side-stepped Clay. He had invaded her territory. Pilfered the air from her private space. Clay attracted trouble the way her black suit attracted dog hair and she didn't want him anywhere near her.
"Aanders can't go fishing. He's too busy. Besides, you know Nan doesn't want you around when she's gone."
"That's why I'm here. What she doesn't know won't hurt."
"Bull. You can wave your pipedream good-bye. She'd skin me alive if I let you take him fishing."
"What the hell happened to your hair?" Clay leaned forward as his gaze zeroed in on Sadie's head.
"You're a fine one to talk. At least I wash my hair."
"What's with the green streak? It looks like a parrot crapped on your head."
Sadie ran her hand down one hip before she remembered she had changed into her funeral clothes. "It matches the skirt I had on earlier. Big Leon mixed the color especially to match my outfit."
"Really? It still looks like a parrot crapped on your head."
Sadie picked on her green gelled spikes to make them stand erect. She removed her black suit coat and hung it on the back of her chair. As she tugged her lemon yellow tube top into position, Clay leaned forward to shorten the span between them.
His eyebrows merged over his nose as his eyes reduced to tiny slits. "What's on your gut?"
Sadie patted her tattoo. "That's an asp."
"What's your ass doing up there?"
"I said asp, not ass. A-S-P. It's Cleopatra's asp. Don't you know anything?"
"I know your ass shouldn't be up there. Is that what happens when you turn ninety?"
"Ninety? I'm not ninety. I'm sixty-four. You obviously don't know the first thing about fashion."
"Neither do you." Clay lifted a folder off the desk and opened it.
"Leave Nan's stuff alone." Sadie grabbed the folder. The contents flew across the floor. As she bent down to gather the sheets, she noticed Aanders standing outside the window trying to get her attention. Exasperation etched his face. He beckoned with his hand while trying to remain tucked behind the window frame out of Clay's range of vision.
Moving closer to the window, Sadie raised her eyebrows in question. Aanders responded by spreading his palms upward and shrugging. He shook his head vigorously and repeated the gesture.
"I'll be right back," Sadie said. "Don't touch anything. If anybody comes, be nice to them."
"Okay." Springs squeaked in protest as Clay sat on Sadie's five-dollar garage sale chair and propped both feet on the desk calendar.
"What's wrong," Sadie whispered, after she hurried across the sidewalk.
"It's Sally. I can't find her."
Sadie drew a deep breath. "Where did you last see her?" She had given Aanders one simple task: to keep an eye on Sally. "I don't understand why you can't keep track of Sally."
"She's an escape artist. All I did was look for some dog treats and the next thing I knew, she disappeared."
"You know what she's like. You can't leave her alone for one minute."
"Belly's gone too. I called for him, but he didn't come. He must have followed her."
"They shouldn't be too hard to find." Sadie headed down the path toward the lake. "If we can't find her, she runs the risk of slipping into oblivion. I'll never forgive myself if we lose her."
Aanders hurried to catch up to Sadie.
"Sa
lly doesn't understand the complexity of her death. It's up to us to see she goes through the tunnel with Jed."
"I tried to keep an eye on her. It's not fair I have to do this." Aanders dropped his gaze to the ground as Sadie stopped abruptly in front of him and turned to face him.
"I agree. I didn't ask for this assignment, either. Because we're both death coaches, we've got to make the best of it. You screwed up," Sadie said. "If you're looking for someone to give you an 'A' for effort, it's not going to happen. Now let's find her."
Clay watched Aanders and Sadie trot down the path and out of sight.
"Hey Dude." A man poked Clay's shoulder.
"What?" Clay let out a startled cry as he lurched upright.
"Dude. We're here to see my brother. The funeral lady told me to come early for a private viewing."
"You must be the guy Sadie was expecting. What does your brother look like?" Clay stood and led three leather-clad men into the viewing chapel. "He must be here somewhere."
"Is this the guy?"
"No, Dude. That ain't no Harley rider. That's an old lady. Where's my brother?"
"Maybe he's in the other room." Clay tromped across the floor with two men in black boots and one in pink neon sneakers striding behind him. A heavy chain dangled from the leader's billfold. "Is that him?" Clay pushed through the French doors and led them toward the alcove.
"Yup. That's my bro." The man hung his head and leaned his elbows on the rim of the casket. "He's the best Harley rider I've ever known."
The two other men joined the brother. Heads bowed in respect, one of the men ran his fist under his nose. "Shit man. What a shame. He was the best Harley rider in the county."
Clay looked at a lump under one of the men's shirts. "What you got there?"
"Nothin."
"That don't look like nothin to me." Clay held his arm out. "Hand it over."
"Come on, man. Give me a break," the third mourner said, raising his T-shirt and removing a whiskey bottle. "It's a little something to accompany him on his final ride."
"Let me see." Clay grabbed the bottle. He uncapped it and tipped it to his lips. "Whoa. That's good stuff. Why waste it on him?"
"Cuz he's my brother." The deceased man's brother grabbed the bottle from Clay. Whiskey ran down Clay's chin and dripped onto the floor.
Clay looked toward the door before running the sole of his sandal over the droplets on the carpet. "Give me another swig and I'll let you put the bottle in the casket."
"Deal." The brother grinned and removed the cap. He handed the bottle to Clay.
"What happened to your brother?"
"The doctor told me he had a stroke."
"A stroke?" Clay took a third swing. "I thought he had an accident. He doesn't look old enough to have a stroke."
The brother frowned. "He wasn't. He was twenty-eight. The stroke caused the accident." He pulled the bottle from Clay's hand and screwed the cap into place.
"Are those your bikes out there?" Clay pointed toward the parking lot.
"One of them bikes is his," the brother said. "I thought he'd appreciate having it here for the funeral."
The second mourner said, "We got the dents out and polished it up for the occasion."
"Why leave it out there? Why don't you bring it in and park it by the casket." Clay walked over to the door and held it open while the men descended the stairs toward the bike.
A big rumble erupted from the parking lot as the brother started the Harley and eased it into the funeral home's lobby. "This is great, Dude. Thanks."
"No problem." Clay slapped the brother on the shoulder. "I'll be in the office. I've got an excavation job and I'm waiting to hear when I can start." Clay patted the cell phone clipped to his belt.
The other two mourners gave Clay a thumbs-up and joined the deceased man's brother at the casket.
Twenty minutes later, Sadie poked her head through the office door. "Dan Avery is looking for you. He said he'd be down by the marina." She indicated she wanted Clay to lean forward. She grabbed her black jacket off the desk chair and slipped her arms through the openings.
"I better get going." Clay stretched and pressed hard against the chair's back. Metal creaked against the weight.
"Are the guys here for their private viewing? I see bikes in the parking lot." Sadie stepped into the office and pushed Clay's feet off the desk onto the floor.
"They're in there." As Clay pointed toward the viewing room a rumble erupted, then mushroomed into an ear-piercing roar.
With the shocked look of a man sorting through a long list of indiscretions, Clay held up his hands. "I didn't do it. They did."
A crashing thud added to the chaos. Sadie hurried toward the viewing room. "What's going on? Shut that thing off," she shouted over the din.
"Dude," the brother said, looking back at the casket and then at his friend, "you must not have hooked it up right."
One of the locked legs on the casket stand had collapsed under the pressure of being pulled forward. The casket lay tipped on its side with the recently departed sprawled next to it, naked from the waist down.
"Oh, my Lord." Sadie gazed at the scene. Liquid dripped from a broken whiskey bottle and pooled on the carpet.
"What?" The brother shrugged. "We wanted him to have one final ride."
"Holy crap," Clay echoed. "What a waste of good booze."
"Lock the doors," Sadie shouted. "We've got to get this cleaned up before Nan gets back."
"What happened to his pants?" Clay gazed down at the man.
"What happened to the blue shirt and tie I put on him this morning?" Her mouth agape in disbelief, Sadie pointed to a Harley T-shirt. "Where did the shirt come from?"
"I brought it," the brother said. "It's his favorite shirt."
Sadie ran to the lobby and over to a storage closet. She tugged a casket stand from the closet and opened the mechanism, allowing the stand to spring into an upright position. "Help me switch this with the broken one."
Sadie looked up as Clay crossed the lobby and placed his hand on the doorknob. "Get back here. You're not going anywhere until this mess is cleaned up."
"I can't. Nan might catch me here."
"That's the least of your worries. Help them lift the casket back on the stand."
The second mourner edged around Sadie, glancing at her hair.
Once the casket settled into place on the replacement stand, Sadie unlatched the bottom lid. "Lift him into the casket."
The three men shuffled into position. Clay bent down and joined them. He stiffened and stood upright. "I'm not going to pick him up with his dingus staring me in the face."
"Me neither," the third mourner echoed, stepping back to join Clay.
"Yes, you are," Sadie growled. "It's your fault he's down there in the first place."
"The hell it is," the mourner said, pointing at Clay. "He said we should bring the Harley in."
Sadie put her hands on her hips and glared at Clay. She issued instructions to the men easing the corpse back into the casket. After securing the lid, she placed the floral arrangement back into position. "Get the mess wiped up. Be sure to pick up the glass."
As the men crawled on their hands and knees searching for the final shards of glass, a car door slammed and the overhead hearse bay door rose in its tracks.
"Oh, no," Sadie cried.
Clay's cell phone rang. He flipped the lid and listened. "I gotta go. Dan's getting impatient." He sprinted across the lobby and out the front door.
Sadie lifted the waste basket and handed it to the third mourner. "Make it disappear." She stared at the door as footsteps grew louder.
Nan closed the door behind her. She sniffed the air. "It smells like a bar in here. Has Clay been here?"
Peering toward the viewing room, she whispered in anger, "When I told you to change your clothes, I meant get rid of the green hair, too."
"I didn't have time. The brother came for the private viewing sooner than I expected."
&
nbsp; "Then do it before the rest of the people get here." Nan crossed the floor and propped open the double doors leading to the viewing room. Three men stood in front of the casket. She walked up behind them. Drawing in a deep sniff, she looked down into the casket and then back at Sadie.
Sadie cringed. Nan had a way of expressing displeasure with her eyebrows. She should take them on the entertainment circuit because they could perform a standup routine all by themselves. This routine meant trouble, but not as much trouble as what she spotted out of the corner of her eye. Sally pushed through Clay's cabin door and sauntered out. A lime-green neckerchief-adorned dog exited behind her.
25
"Quit squirming." Jed resituated Sally on his lap. "Do you have ants in your pants?"
Belly pranced in place at Jed's feet, matching the energy oozing from Sally.
Sadie smiled at the warmth in Sally's giggle. It soothed away the day's stress. Nan's lectures usually inflicted short-term pain, but this one had been a doosie. The words still stung. She shouldn't be surprised, though, because Nan had mastered the art of ambush. Now she knew how Nan's students felt after a semester with the woman who adhered to funeral protocol to the nth degree.
Jane pushed through the screen door carrying a brown paper bag. She turned it over and emptied the contents onto the kitchen table. "Look at all the stuff we got today."
Sadie picked up a few items and dropped them back on the table. "How many rummage sales did you hit?"
"Too many," Bernie said. "She wore me out. I like rummage sales, but usually from the seller's end."
"Looks like junk." Sadie scooped up the items and placed them back in the bag.
"Quit it." Jane batted at her hand. "There's good stuff in there." She held a black knit dickey up to Sadie's neck. "See. This will be perfect when you go ice fishing. It will keep you nice and warm."
"I don't want it." Sadie grabbed it from her and wadded it into a ball.
"What's the matter with it? Don't you like dickeys?"
