Mace, p.2
Mace, page 2
“And then I will go find another funeral home to work at because I don’t think I could take another person strictly dictating what I can and cannot wear.” And for all I knew, Mr. Brooks was going to live to be over a hundred still telling me what I can wear. “I swear he drove the other day when I was watering the flowers out front and slowed when he saw I was wearing shorts.”
Dorothy clutched her hand to her chest. “How could you show your legs? And in front of the funeral home, no less.” she mocked.
I rolled my eyes and took a bite of my sandwich. “It’s also my home.”
“The indecency,” she continued. She sat back and sighed. “How long do you think it’s going to take to clean up?”
I shrugged and picked up a salted caramel bar. The sandwich was okay, but I wasn’t going to fill myself up when the caramel bar was what I wanted. “I can do the vacuuming if you want to work wiping down the kitchen.”
Dorothy wrinkled her nose. “Is there an option to just go home and save the cleaning for tomorrow?”
I shook my head. “No. Tomorrow us will hate today us. That’s like knowing you need gas, but you tell yourself you’ll get it in the morning. A horrible idea every time.”
Dorothy groaned. “I hate when you make sense.” She grabbed her plate and headed to the sink. “I’m going to eat while I clean because I was ready to go home an hour ago.”
“I can wait to eat when we’re done, and I’m home on my couch.” I put my plate in the office Dorothy and I shared and hauled out the ancient vacuum from the back closet.
The vacuum had to be as old as I was, but it still sucked better than a vacuum straight from the box today.
Dorothy and I had learned to clean when we could during the viewing and service, but there were things you couldn’t do while any of the family or guests were here.
Breaking out the vacuum while the family grieved their loved one was frowned on.
“I’m done, Imogen,” Dorothy called.
I coiled the cord to the vacuum and pushed it back into the closet.
“The dishwasher is going, and I know I should stay until it’s done, but I’m not staying.”
I laughed and shut the closet door. “I think that is one we won’t mind doing tomorrow.” Normally we would put the chairs away, but we had another viewing and service tomorrow afternoon. I could always come down later if I felt like it to put away the dishes. “Do you remember how many people we’re expecting for tomorrow?” I asked.
Dorothy quirked her lips. “Uh, I think it’s on the smaller side. Sixty?”
We wouldn’t need all the chairs we had out, but we could work on that tomorrow morning. “We have a few things to do for tomorrow, but we can do all of that then.”
“Is the body ready?” Dorothy asked.
Dorothy and I were both morticians and funeral directors, but I took most of the mortician duties while Dorothy handled more of the funeral director's duties. Merv and Bruce also worked at Brooks doing body retrievals, burials, and building maintenance.
Merv and Bruce were a big reason I stayed at Brooks, and Dorothy was, too. The work was spread out between the four of us instead of it all being one of us.
We only averaged eight to nine funerals a month, which, as weird as it sounded, was the perfect number of funerals. We all stayed busy, but it wasn’t like we were slinging caskets out the backdoor every hour.
After tomorrow’s funeral, we didn’t have any others on the calendar. That could all change with one phone call, however.
“The body is ready. I finished the embalming this morning.”
Dorothy clapped me on the shoulder and smiled. “I can’t tell you how thankful I am that I don’t need to embalm, Imogen. I will deal with the families, flowers, and crazy requests if that means you’re in the dungeon making the bodies look beautiful.”
I rolled my eyes and flipped off the lights in the gathering room. “Does that mean I’m not allowed to take a vacation?”
“Girl, if you get to go on vacation, I am coming with. We’ll make Mr. Brooks plan the funerals, and Merv and Bruce can be his flunkies.”
I shook my head and ran my fingers through my hair. “I think it would be best just to close the place if it comes to Mr. Brooks, Merv, and Bruce doing our jobs.”
“You are right,” Dorothy sighed. “I’m gonna head home, girl. Call me if you need anything.”
I waved her off and moved around the funeral home as I turned off all of the lights. I locked the front door and slipped up the stairs to the right of the entrance.
I kicked off my shoes, unlocked my door, and flipped on the lights.
I was home.
Chapter Three
Mace
“This isn’t going to be enough.”
“I’m telling you what happened,” I insisted. “I’m not going down for this douchebag's murder.”
Pam, my lawyer, shook her head. She closed the folder in front of her and took off her glasses. “Yes, you told me what happened after you have been accused of murder, Mason. The problem with that is the three people you talk about are you, one is dead, and the other you refuse to name.”
“They would each tell you the same thing I did.”
Pam stood and grabbed her briefcase. “I believe you, but you are running into the problem of a mayor with an axe to grind and a police station in his pocket. They will gun for you unless we can prove to them that Kent was a rapist whom some woman killed in self-defense. You have a few weeks to produce the woman and evidence we will need.”
“Even if I name the person he raped, how will we prove he raped her?” This happened fifteen years ago, and I was expected to produce evidence as if it happened yesterday.
Pam moved to the door of church. “Well, I guess we will cross that bridge if we get there, but I can tell you two of the same stories are better than one. I can only help you if you let me. Give me the woman’s name, and I’ll track her down.”
I shook my head. “I’m not doing that.”
Pam threw up her hand. “Then I don’t know what to tell you, Mason. I will try to develop the best defense I can, but I can tell you we will not win with just your side of the story right now.” She walked out of church and left the door open behind her.
I slammed my hand on the table. “Son of a bitch,” I growled.
It had been five days since I had been out on bond, and I was still fucked as ever.
No one would believe what happened unless a fucking miracle happened where Kent came back from the dead or Imogen appeared out of thin air to defend me.
“Your ass is going to jail,” I cackled to the empty room.
Fucked.
Tattoo it on my forehead and lock me up.
I wasn’t going to be able to get out of this.
“Chin up, buttercup.”
My eyes snapped to the door. Mitzy and Rayna waltzed in with Willem on her hip.
I did not want to sit around and listen to whatever these two had to say.
“Sit, sit,” Mitzy ordered when I tried to stand.
“I’m not in the mood for whatever you two have up your sleeve,” I growled.
“You sure about that?” Rayna sat on the table's edge and bounced Willem in her arms. “Mitzy and I did some searching, and you might like what we found.”
“Find a yard sale the next town over?” I sneered.
Mitzy wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “Uh, no. I’m not a garage sale kind of girl. I’d rather just order what I need online than go traipsing all over the neighborhood.”
Rayna pointed at Mitzy. “Unless we can traipse around the neighborhood with margaritas, and I know I’m going to find the motherload of baby clothes for Willem.”
Mitzy clicked her tongue twice and winked at Rayna. “You’re right. I would be in for that. You get clothes for Willem, and then you can give them to me when he outgrows them.”
“You don’t even know what you’re having yet,” Rayna pointed out.
Mitzy waved her hand. “Doesn’t matter. If it’s a girl, she’ll wear whatever. Girls can wear shirts with bulldozers and rockets, too.”
“Agreed,” Rayna shrugged.
“Is this why you two barged in here?” I asked. “I don’t really think I need to be a part of planning your kid’s wardrobes.”
“Six-Gun wasn’t joking when he warned us you were grumpy,” Rayna laughed.
“And even though he was trying to scare us away, we are here because we know how to get you out of the pickle you are in,” Mitzy sang.
“Pickle?” I drawled. “I’m pretty sure being charged with murder is bigger than a pickle.”
“Have you seen those pickles in the plastic pouches at the gas station? They’re pretty damn big,” Mitzy mused. “They are damn near a meal.”
“How did we go from garage sales to pickles?” I asked.
Rayna waved her hand in the air. “Let’s just forget everything we’ve said. We always seem to go off on a tangent without even trying.”
“You’re just now noticing that?” I laughed.
“We found Imogen,” Mitzy blurted.
Rayna smiled broadly and nodded. “We did! It took a little bit since she moved around a couple of times, but we are sure we know where she is.”
“You did what?” I growled.
“She’s the only person who will be able to help you, Mace,” Mitzy insisted. “Your lawyer took off in a tizzy because you won’t tell her anything about Imogen.”
“You didn’t even tell Pam her name,” Rayna gasped.
“Because Imogen isn’t a common name, Ray. Even if I don’t give her last name, she’ll be easy to find.”
“Have you tried to find her in the past fifteen years?” Mitzy asked. “She wasn’t exactly hiding, but it did take us some digging to find her.”
“You didn’t talk to her, did you?” I demanded. I had told everyone to leave Imogen out of my mess, and they better have listened.
Mitzy pulled a piece of paper from her pocket and slid it across the table to me. “Of course not. Everything you need to know is on that paper.”
“Her name is the same, and she is not married, from what we can tell. She’s lived in Sutter Creek for the past ten years,” Rayna rattled off.
“Jackson?” That was only about an hour away from here. “What the hell is she doing there?” Jackson was also only ten minutes away from Sutter Creek, where Kent Bing was murdered.
Imogen had taken off to San Diego the day after Kent was killed, but that was all I had ever known about her. I, of course, could have searched the internet for more information about her, but I always figured that if she wanted to be found, she knew how to get in touch with me. Sure, I had moved from Sutter Creek, but my phone number hadn’t changed in the fifteen years since that day.
“It looks like she has lived there for the past ten years. She went to college in Cypress and then moved to Sutter Creek,” Rayna sighed. “Beyond that, there isn’t much.”
I grabbed the piece of paper, and my eyes scanned over the flowy handwriting. “What did she go to college for?” I asked.
“We couldn’t find that. We had to pay to see the graduates' names and what their majors were. We’re both too cheap for that. We figure you can ask her what she went to college for when you go talk to her.”
“I’m not going to talk to her.” I tossed the paper back to Mitzy. “I’m not dragging her into this.”
“What?” Rayna squawked. “Aren’t you in this mess because you helped her?”
“Imogen didn’t force me to do anything, Mitzy. I could have walked away without helping her just as easily as I had helped her. She has been through enough.” I would find my own way out of this or take the fall. Those were the only options I was giving myself.
“I’m sure she has been through a lot, Mace, but do you really think she would like to find out that you went to prison for something you didn’t do?” Rayna asked.
“I haven’t heard from her in fifteen years, so I really doubt she would find out about anything going on now. She moved on, and she deserves to.”
“That doesn’t mean you deserve to go down in flames, Mace. Hell, man. Just go and talk to her,” Mitzy suggested.
“And what happens when I talk to her, and she gets fucked up again because I bring up the past.” I wanted the past to stay right where it was.
“So your solution to this is to do nothing when you have a possible solution right in front of you.” Mitzy grabbed the paper and held it up. “I’ll just talk to her since you won’t do it.”
“Oh, good idea.” Rayna jumped up and rocked Willem in her arms. “Barracuda can watch Willem.”
Oh, hell no.
“Do you think we sho–.”
I snatched the paper out of Mitzy’s hand and shoved it into my pocket. “Neither of you is getting within ten miles of Imogen.”
“Do you think we don’t have the address and phone number memorized?” Mitzy drawled.
Rayna blew out a raspberry. “I also have it written down at home.”
“Don’t give a shit,” I grunted. “Neither of you is going to talk to Imogen.”
“Maybe we already have.” Rayna shrugged and stepped toward the door.
“What?” I growled. I closed my eyes and silently counted to ten. I always got a kick out of the ol’ ladies running all over the other guys, but I was not into them doing it to me.
“Stop,” Mitzy whispered. She cleared her throat, and I opened my eyes. “We haven’t tried to talk to Imogen.”
“Yet,” Rayna added. “We haven’t tried to talk to her yet, but we will if you don’t either pick up the phone or get your butt to Jackson,” Rayna threatened. “Surely you can talk to her and ease your way into talking to her about Kent Bing.”
“We can go with you,” Mitzy offered. “Hell, all of the girls can come with you. It might make Imogen feel more comfortable having us there.”
“She hasn’t ever met you, so I doubt being surrounded by a bunch of strangers and I will make her comfortable.”
Jesus Christ.
I had enough shit going on and didn’t need to add the ol’ ladies trying to steamroll over me on top.
“The worst that could happen is she slams the door in your face.” Rayna shrugged. “And if she does that, just kick it down.”
“You’re pretty aggressive,” Mitzy laughed. “Normally, that’s me.”
Rayna nodded to Mitzy. “You’re pregnant, so your motherly instincts are kicking in.”
“Honey, you’re a mother, too,” Mitzy laughed.
Rayna shrugged. “I’ve got the aggressive motherly instinct. Maybe once you push that baby out, yours will kick up a notch.”
“Rayna!”
Thank god. Though it would have been nicer if Barracuda had come looking for his ol’ lady before she barged into church with Mitzy.
“In here,” Rayna called.
Barracuda stood in the doorway and folded his arms over his chest. “What the hell are you doing in here?” he demanded.
Rayna waltzed over to Barracuda and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Mitzy and I were just talking to Mace about taking a ride to Jackson.”
“Jackson?” Barracuda questioned. “Why the hell are you wanting to go there?”
“Because that’s where Imogen is, and we need to talk to her to help get Mace out of his pickle,” Mitzy confessed. “He’s being stubborn and saying he won’t talk to her, and neither can we.”
Barracuda frowned. “You’ve still got it stuck in your head that you can’t talk to Imogen?” he asked me.
I shrugged. “I buried the past a long time ago. I’m not interested in digging it up.”
“We’re past digging up the past since you got arrested,” Rayna drawled. “All you need to do is knock on her door, and you’ll know pretty quickly if she’s capable of helping you. If she seems frail or unable to help, then don’t even mention Kent Bing to her.”
“Yeah,” Mitzy echoed. “Make small talk, and if she seems stable, gently move into talking about Kent.”
“Because the chick isn’t going to be suspicious of a guy she hasn’t seen or heard from in fifteen years just showing up on her doorstep without a reason or cause.” Barracuda shook his head.
“Charm her,” Rayna advised. “You’re not a bad-looking guy.”
Barracuda lifted Willem from her arms and laid him over his shoulder. “I’m going to ignore the fact you just said that and take our son home.”
Rayna rolled her eyes. “I’m your ol’ lady, Barracuda, not dead.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered. “You coming home with us, or do you want to keep telling Mace how good he looks?”
“Jesus,” Mitzy laughed. “It’s not like she waxed on and on about his looks.”
“We can’t leave until Mace says he’s going to talk to Imogen,” Rayna reasoned. “She’s the only thing that has a chance of keeping him out of prison.”
“You really got her address?” he asked.
Mitzy nodded. “He’s got her address and phone number in his pocket.”
Barracuda glanced at me. “You got two days to take care of this yourself before the girls go forward with their hair-brained plan.”
“How do you know we have a hair-brained plan?” Rayna snarked.
He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips. “Because you’ve always got some crazy ideas cooking in that pretty head of yours.”
“I should be offended by that,” she frowned.
“But you’re not.” He looked back at me. “Two days, Mace. Take care of your shit, or the girls will do it for you.”
A sly smile spread across Rayna’s lips, and she slipped her arm through Barracuda’s. “The clock starts now,” she called.
Barracuda smirked and pulled her down the hallway.
Mitzy clicked her tongue and threw a wink at me. “Tick tock.”
“I don’t want to drag Imogen into this, Mitzy,” I thundered.
She tipped her head to the side. “I understand why you don’t want to, but I think you need to really think about the reasons why you need to. Your life is on the line here, Mace. I don’t know what kind of relationship you had with Imogen before, but I have to assume you two were more than just strangers.” She smiled sadly. “If she’s even half a decent person, she wouldn’t want you to go to prison for helping her all those years ago.”
