He looked that delicious.
And what really made my day was how he looked at me. As if I were a tasty morsel too. Not that I was aiming for sexy at a memorial service, but the only little black dress that I owned was a slinky Jones New York with three-quarter-length sleeves and a V-neck that allowed a sampling of cleavage.
I did look tasty.
Jagger stood there for a second, brushed past me and said, “Ready?”
I smiled. “I’m ready, and the car is that way.” I pointed behind him.
Without a word, he walked toward the kitchen. “Any more phone messages?”
Damn. I’d nearly forgotten it. “No. Maybe that was just a fluke. Someone playing a joke.”
“Murderers don’t joke, Pauline.”
“Gee. Thanks for that.” I followed him into the kitchen, where I found him petting Spanky.
I think Jagger actually looked forward to seeing the dog. Maybe Spanky was the only thing that could ground Jagger in reality. Give him a sense of family. Pets were amazing.
“We need to go, or we’ll be late.”
He patted Spanky on the head, turned and walked past me again. As I followed him out to his SUV, I thought of what an odd scene that had just been.
Jagger had seemed so down to earth. So un-Jaggerlike.
Maybe he was softening.
Jagger pulled his Suburban into a space in TLC’s parking lot, which was full since, I figured, all the employees were there to pay their respects. Coincidentally, the funeral home was just across the street, so parking at TLC was logical, since there was a get-together at Pansy’s after the service. No trip to the cemetery, thank goodness, since Payne had been cremated.
Jagger took me by the elbow and guided me across the busy intersection. Waiting outside the door was ER Dano, who looked as if he cared that Jagger held my elbow.
Two guys showing interest in me. Two!
What a great feeling, I told myself as I walked under the green-canopied entryway. “Morning,” I said, smiling slightly since I didn’t want to seem jovial at such a solemn event.
Dano nodded.
Jagger tightened his hold.
And I raised one eyebrow, moved away from both of them and walked inside, where I found Lilla, who had saved us a few seats.
I nodded to her, tried to ignore the huge cutout of Payne and sat directly in front of Sky and Mario. Buzz was on the other side of Lilla, sitting, I thought, much closer than necessary. Cute. Talk about opposites attracting.
Maybe he was vying for slot number five in the Lilla Marcel wedding bliss department.
I had to smile to myself, because that was not a bad idea. Buzz-geez, now I was calling him that and had to remind myself that his real name was Jeremy-might be just what Lilla needed for happiness, even though he was a few years younger.
She leaned toward me. “Isn’t that cardboard thing eerie?”
I wanted to say, “You should have seen it in Pansy’s office when I was snooping,” but remembered Jagger’s sage advice that one never knew whose ears were tuned into you and would hear stuff about your case. I nodded as a man I assumed was the minister took the podium, and performed the ceremony.
After several people had gotten up and spoken kind words about Payne-and most of the staff seemed to raise an eyebrow or shake a head at the falsehoods-Sky guided Pansy up to the front. She looked at her cardboard brother and then at the crowd. No tears, I noticed, but her face darkened to a deep crimson color.
Then she glared and pointed at Payne’s image and began cursing like a sailor.
Between the gasps of the mourners and the high pitch of her voice, the place took on a creepy, almost surreal atmosphere.
Pansy accused her brother of just about everything under the sun except the fraud, although she alluded to his “unhealthy business practices.” Then she looked above all of our heads and offered a halfhearted apology of some sorts.
I could barely make sense of her rambling, but Sky and ER Dano finally got up and took her back to her chair. Before she sat, she turned to us and yelled, “Everyone come to my place after this fiasco and celebrate!” Then she seemed to catch herself and added, “His life. Celebrate my brother Payne’s life.” In a very unflattering, unbelievable tone she said, “He would have wanted that.”
She pushed Sky’s arm from hers, nearly knocked ER Dano down in her haste, and hurried from the room.
The two guys stood speechless, the minister cleared his throat over and over, and the crowd hushed. Jagger got up, took my arm and led me toward the door, which got everyone else moving.
“Wow,” I murmured.
Jagger looked at me and shook his head-this time not at me though. “Just shows you that it takes all kinds.”
“How prophetic,” I said and this time his hand was on my lower back, so I immediately felt safe and could care less about Pansy’s nutty eulogy.
Okay, I’d relive her whacko words over and over to see if it would help my case-but later. I mean, Jagger’s hand was on my back.
We crossed the street followed by the crowd of mourners, who were now laughing and chatting about Pansy-and, I might add, agreeing with everything she’d said.
“Seems as if finding Payne’s murderer is going to be difficult if one considers motive,” I said.
Jagger looked at me. “Sure is. Feels like a mob mentality. And they are all in agreement.”
“Well, maybe Pansy will now have a staff of dedicated workers. She certainly didn’t need to convince them of anything.” I stopped and took Jagger’s arm. “Hey, you think she did that on purpose?”
“Did what?”
“You know. Said those horrible things about her brother because, one, she knew how they all felt. Two, she figured she’d earn their undying loyalty, since her brother isn’t coming back. And three, she’s a damn good actress, or maybe she killed her own brother!”
Jagger looked at me for a few seconds while the others got closer. He leaned near and said, “Hmm. I hadn’t thought of that.”
I slugged his arm. “You’re full of shit.”
I knew that I never would think of anything case-related before Jagger did, but I was thrilled and proud of myself for thinking of something that he already had.
Baby steps. Baby steps to a successful career as an investigator.
Before anyone walked past us, Jagger led me to the front door, which was opened as if Pansy was welcoming everyone into her home for a real celebration.
“Pansy,” I called out, while Jagger nudged me inside.
We walked through the beautiful Tudor-style entryway and on into the living room-and Jagger grabbed my arm, which was a good thing. Because when I looked at the scene before us, my screaming kept me from rushing forward to do something about it-or passing out and breaking something important.
Eleven
“Oh, Lord. Talk about déjà vu,” I said as Jagger held me by the shoulders. Amid the other mourners’ gasping and screaming I looked at Pansy, sitting in a lovely hunter green brocade armchair-with a knife sticking out of her chest. Her lap formed a kind of catch basin for her blood. There was an enormous amount too.
Ashamedly, all I could think about was how she and her twin sure were alike, like clones.
One of the newer EMT women stepped forward, checked for a pulse, looked at the crowd and shook her head.
Lilla said, “Oh, my. I shall call 911.”
I wanted to say don’t bother, since there were plenty of paramedics and EMTs here to do something, but again, an ambulance could not transport a dead body, and by all appearances, Pansy fell into that category. So, the cops were the next logical step.