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Takedown Twenty(13)

By:Janet Evanovich


“Do you have any leads?”

“In the past eighteen months three women have been found in Dumpsters in Trenton. They were all robbed and strangled. They were all in their seventies. All lived alone, in different parts of the city. So far the police haven’t identified any suspects.”

“I knew one of the women. Lois Fratelli. She lived in the Burg a block over from my parents.”

“Did you go to her funeral?”

“No, but I went to the viewing with Grandma.”

“Anyone of interest there?”

“Not that I noticed. It was packed. There are a lot of Fratellis in Trenton, and there are always lots of people who come out for a murder.”

“Like your grandmother?”

“Grandma comes out to all the viewings. She gets extra dressed up for a murder.”

Ranger pulled into the small lot attached to the funeral home.

“You’ll never get a spot here,” I said. “This lot fills up at six o’clock for a murder.”

He beeped his horn and a black Rangeman SUV pulled out of a space. Ranger parked in the space, and the SUV drove away.

“So it sounds to me like I could have sent you to this viewing with your grandmother,” he said, cutting the engine, “and I could have taken a night off.”

“Yes, but then you would have missed seeing me in this dress.”

Ranger smiled. “True.”

“Why do you want me at this viewing?”

“I’m looking for a common thread. You know most of the people here. They talk to you. I want you to move around and see if you can find a connection between Melvina and Lois. Mutual friends, shared interests, a stranger who suddenly entered their life.”

I got out of the Porsche, tugged my dress down, and rearranged my breasts. “What will you be doing while I’m talking to people?”

“I’ll be watching you.”

The funeral home had originally been a large Victorian house with a wraparound porch. Over the years it had changed hands several times and extensions had been added. This evening, men were gathered in groups on the porch. The vestibule inside was filled with women milling around the tea and cookies, then quietly maneuvering their way into the crush of people already in the viewing room. The air was heavy with the smell of funeral flowers and too many overheated bodies.

“I’m two steps behind you,” Ranger said. “Do your thing.”

I wormed my way through the vestibule, talking to people, keeping my eyes open for murderers. I squeezed through the door to Slumber Room No. 2 and began to make my way forward toward the open casket. I spoke to Lily Kolakowski, Ann Rhinehart, Maureen Labbe, and Sheryl Stoley. Several moderately drunk men hit on me, none of them on the good side of ninety. None of them knew Melvina Gillian.

I worked the crowd to the first row of chairs facing the deceased and picked out Grandma Mazur.

“Well, for goodness sakes,” she said, spotting me. “If I’d known you were coming I would have saved you a seat. I was here when they opened the doors, and I got a real good one. You sit up front like this and you don’t miss a thing. I even filled my purse with cookies on the way through the lobby.” She tapped her finger to her forehead. “Always thinking.”

“Did you know Melvina?”

“No. Never met her, but she looks pretty good for having been thrown into a Dumpster. They do a real good job with makeup here. I was worried they might have a closed casket, and you know how I hate that, but they got her set up so she’s almost lifelike.”

I scanned the room for Ranger but couldn’t find him.

“You should go take a look,” Grandma said to me. “I especially like the shade of lipstick they got on her. I might need a lipstick like that.”

Viewings weren’t my favorite thing, and looking at dead people ranked even further down the list.

“I don’t want to jump the line,” I said.

“Nobody will mind. It’s almost closing time and there’s only stragglers left. All the people who really had their heart into it have gone through.” Grandma got up and nudged me over to the casket. “This here’s my granddaughter,” she said to the man standing to one side. “She just wants to pay some fast respects.”

I nodded to him, murmured my condolences, and stepped away. When Grandma and I turned back to her chair it was filled.

“Hey,” Grandma said to the woman sitting in her chair. “That’s my seat.”

“You got up,” the woman said.

“Don’t matter,” Grandma said. “I only got up to pay respects, and now I’m back, and I want my chair.”

“You’ve been hogging this chair all night,” the woman said. “It’s my turn now.”