"Any sign of a break-in?" David asked.
"Nope. The building has a top-of-the-line security alarm that wasn't tripped. No sign of anything. Nothing knocked over. Nothing out of place. Just a missing dead guy."
"What about the crime scene team?"
"We're holding off." She leaned closer. "Until you verify that a crime has been committed and we're not dealing with just a misplaced body."
"Good call."
"Everybody else is downstairs where they keep the bodies."
Officer Salazar pointed across a deep red carpet. "Take the steps to the basement. Then make a right. You can't miss it."
"These places certainly have a distinctive odor, don't they?" David whispered as they headed downstairs. "Kind of heavy. Kind of sweet."
"Like a rich dessert, only deader?" Elise asked.
"Exactly."
There were three uniformed police officers in the room, along with the owner of the funeral home and the mortician who'd alerted everyone to the missing body. The funeral director, a man named Simms, had managed to throw on the obligatory dark suit.
The partners introduced themselves.
"I can't explain it." The director's frantic gaze went from Elise to David, and back again.
The detectives perused the room. "Anything out of place?" Elise asked.
"Nothing."
They interviewed the mortician, an earnest little man named Benjamin Ming. He didn't have much to tell them that they didn't already know.
Elise strolled into the adjoining crematorium. David and the director followed.
The room temperature was cool. She examined the heat gauges on the machine.
Nothing registered anything.
"How long does it take for the oven to cool down after use?"
"Hours," the director told her. "The oven hasn't been used in days. The police officers already asked me about it. Why are you trying to point the finger at me? Ever since the ugly business with the funeral home that had uncremated bodies stuck in every corner, we're all suspect. I resent it. I'm the one who's the victim here. Along with poor Mr. Turello."
"Nobody's trying to accuse you of anything," David said. "We have to consider every angle so we know what to rule out. Once we've eliminated accidental cremation, then we can focus our investigation on other possible scenarios."
The director grabbed a tissue from a nearby box and wiped it down both sides of his face. "Sorry. We pride ourselves in having an impeccable reputation. I'm the third generation in this establishment, and we've never had this kind of thing happen. Ever."
Elise felt sorry for him. Normally he was the one who remained calm and collected, who soothed the upset patrons. "Mr. Simms," she said in a voice that was soft and serious, "have you ever had any employees who seemed particularly…fond of the dead?"
He frowned. "What are you talking about?"
"We're talking about necrophilia," David said. "Being in this line of business, you've surely heard of it."
"Of course." The director was flustered. Angry. "But I'm here to emphatically tell you that no one- NO ONE-in my employ has ever…" His words trailed off. He seemed unable to continue.
"We will need a list of everyone who now works for you," David said. "Plus everyone who's worked here in the past three years. Cleaning people. Lawn care. Everybody."
Elise called in a crime scene team to collect evidence, then moved on to the more traditional questions.
Anybody suspicious around?
Anybody who might be doing it to make Hartzell, Tate, and Hartzell look bad?
That was followed by an exchange of cards and phone numbers. "Call us if you think of anything," Elise told Simms. "We'll be checking back."
"You know what people are going to be saying about this, don't you?" David asked once they were outside, both of them squinting and flinching like vampires against the bright morning sunlight.
"That Gary Turello got up and walked out of there all by himself?" Elise asked.
"You got it."
"We need to talk to Strata Luna again," she said. "Find out if she knew Turello. My guess is she did."
"Go ahead. Give her a call." David pulled a pair of dark glasses from his jacket pocket and slipped them on. "But this time I'm coming along."
Chapter 23
"Is this your store's logo?"
The scruffy-haired kid behind the cash register examined the CD in Elise's hand. "Yep."
Next to her, Gould spread more bagged CDs on the glass countertop. "Notice anything strange about these?" he asked.
The kid looked them over. "This some kind of test?"
"Look closely," Gould insisted.
The kid fiddled with the hair on his chin. "Well… oh, hey. I get it. They're all suicides! Is that it?"
"That's it," Elise said. "But more important, they all have your sticker on them. Would you or any other employee possibly recall someone making a purchase of this sort a year and a half ago?"
"Wow." The kid scratched his head. "I have a hard time remembering what happened last week."
Another guy wandered out of the back room. He was heavily pierced and wearing spiked leather wristbands.
"Hey, Tobias. Come 'ere." The kid at the counter looked at the detectives. "Toby's the manager. He's worked here a long time." Then back over his shoulder, he shouted, "Take a look at these, will you?"
The sleepy-looking kid took his time getting there.
The clerk pointed to the CDs. "You remember anybody buying these?"
"Who're you?" The manager eyed Elise and Gould with suspicion.
They flashed their badges and introduced themselves. That settled him down a little.
"I don't remember. Sorry."
"Would it be possible for you to locate a record of the sales?" Elise asked. "Especially if they were all purchased at the same time?"
"Idunno…"
"Maybe in your tax files?" Gould prodded. "I'm sure you keep cash register tapes."
"You're talking about a lot of stuff," he said doubtfully. "And it could take a long time."
"It's extremely important," Elise told him.
"I'll try, but I don't know…"
Gould presented the photos of Winslow, Turello, and Harrison.
Negative.
Elise handed the manager her card. "Call if you find anything or happen to think of something you forgot." She thanked them both for their time. Then she and Gould headed for the parking lot, passing a small playground on the way. In the center of the basketball court, three girls jumped rope.
Lady in a black veil Babies in the bed Kissed them on the forehead Now they're both dead.
"What a serendipitous segue." Gould looked at her over the top of the car. "Isn't it about time for our meeting with the priestess of death?"
Elise had been able to schedule another appointment with Strata Luna, this one at the woman's home. When she'd asked if her partner could come along, Strata Luna had surprisingly agreed.
The detectives hopped in the car and drove to the Victorian District, where they parked on the street and approached the mansion on foot. Elise announced their arrival to the intercom and they were buzzed in, the black iron gate swinging wide.
The partners stepped through the opening, broken shells crunching underfoot.