Tricky Twenty-Two(16)

The lobby was filled with the usual freeloaders and gawkers. My Grandma Mazur was one of them. A hush fell over the crowd when we entered, and they parted, like when Moses showed up at the Red Sea, to let us make our way to the viewing. Ranger and I were known in the community, and it was obvious we were there to ensure the Linkens’ safety.

Grandma Mazur spotted me from across the room. “Yoo-hoo!” she called. And she waved.

Grandma has some things in common with the Queen of England. They have the same hairstyle, they each carry their purse in the crook of their arm, and no one tells either of them what to do.

Grandma was wearing a sleeveless dress with big red and pink flowers on it. Her lipstick was a bright pink to match the flowers on the dress. Her shoes and her purse were black patent leather. The purse was big enough to hold her .45 long barrel.

The double doors were open to the viewing room, and I could see that every chair was occupied. A line of condolence wishers snaked from the casket almost to the double doors. Usually viewings at Stiva’s are a respite from mourning, with a lot of gossip and laughter and boozing it up. But the atmosphere in Slumber Room No. 1 was sullen tonight. Doug and Monica took their place at the end of the line, and a buzz went through the room. Heads turned and eyes focused on the Linkens, and the climate of the room ratcheted up from sullen to hostile.

Ranger leaned close, and I caught a hint of the scent of the shower gel that always lingers on his skin, and I could feel the warmth from his body.

“Going to be a long night,” he whispered, his lips brushing against my ear.

I got a rush that went all the way down to my toes. Okay, so I know it wasn’t a sexy message, but jeez Louise, the man was fine.

We inched our way forward, and as we got closer to the deceased I could see the immediate family glaring at the Linkens.

“What’s with all the animosity?” I asked Ranger.

“I’ll spare you the complicated financials, but Doug Linken will benefit from his partner’s death. The Getz family will not.”

Grandma Mazur elbowed her way through the crowd and sidled up to me.

“Isn’t this a pip of a viewing?” she said. “Standing room only. Take a close look at his neck when you get up there. If you look real good you can see the marks from where he got shot. That’s not something you see every day.”

“Look over there,” I said to Grandma. “A seat just opened up in the second row.”

“I’m on it,” Grandma said, rushing to the empty seat.

“She likes when she can be up close,” I said to Ranger.

Ranger looked over at Grandma. “That’s a lot to live up to, Babe.”

A woman in a pink suit and a man in a tweedy sport coat stood at the casket. I guessed they were the wife and brother. Ranger stepped in front of the Linkens as they approached the casket. I remained behind, so we had them sandwiched between us.

“Our condolences,” Doug Linken said to the family, not sounding all that sincere.

“You have a lot of nerve showing up here,” the brother said. “You swindled him, and you swindled us. And don’t think you have us fooled. You killed him. You killed him.”

“Killer!” the woman shrieked at Linken. “Dirty, rotten killer!”

Ranger put himself between the Linkens and the Getz family and moved the Linkens toward the side door that led to the back exit.

“Not so fast,” Monica Linken said. “I want a cookie.”

“I’ll have my men stop at a bakery,” Ranger said.

“I don’t want a bakery cookie. I want a cookie from the lobby,” Monica said. “And I’m not leaving out of the side door like we’re criminals or something.”

“Well, I’m leaving out the side door,” Doug Linken said. “Those people are nuts.”

“Escort Mrs. Linken to the cookie table,” Ranger said to me. “The car will be waiting for her at the front door.”

I followed Monica as she slowly made her way through the crush of people. Grandma was out of her seat and was half a step behind me.

“Don’t worry,” Grandma said. “I’ve got your back.”

“Not necessary,” I said to Grandma. “We’re just going for cookies.”

“Me too,” Grandma said. “I hope they got some of them vanilla sandwich cookies left, but if anything goes down I’m ready to rock and roll.”

We reached the cookie table and Monica poured herself a cup of tea and took an oatmeal raisin cookie.

“I could put your tea in a to-go cup,” I said to Monica.

“I’m in no rush,” Monica said. “So just chill.”

Grandma Mazur snagged the last vanilla sandwich cookie and turned to Monica. “What’s the story?” Grandma asked Monica. “Did your husband kill Harry?”