Rest in Pieces Read Free Page A

floor as she made her way to the casket.
    Her eyes turned wild. “Oh God. Stop that! What are y’all doing?” She turned around as if to use her body to hide the open casket from non–existent onlookers.
    Monica took hold of the arm at the elbow and yanked. There was a pop and then a crack. The arm came loose at the shoulder and wobbled under the fabric.
    Haley wrung her hands. “Oh God, you broke the body. That’s so gross.” She used her disapproving mommy voice. “It’s so disrespectful.”
    “Why would she have a plastic arm?” How could overdosing result in her arm being replaced with a fake one? Was the rest of her plastic, too? Carefully, I knocked on her torso. It was hollow. I tried her other arm. Again, a hollow echo. “I think the whole body is plastic.”
    “Not that.” Haley pointed to the head. “It looks real.”
    Monica thumped Molly on the cheek. “That’s not plastic.” She turned to me. “Check her legs.”
    I removed the large spray of pink roses from the lid and set it on the front row and then peered under the partially closed casket lid. It was dark. I felt around for a latch or some way to open the bottom portion of the casket. Not surprisingly, there wasn’t a lock, because why would a dead person need a latch release on the inside of their casket? I grabbed the edge of the lid and pulled hard. It popped up as if it were spring loaded.
    “We are going straight to hell.” Haley glanced down and her eyes turned the size of magic eight balls. “Mother Shucker.”
    Monica threw her hands up. “I feel like such a failure. You spend so much time with me and you still can’t cuss.” She turned to me. “We need to step up the potty mouth around her.”
    “It’s so hard with the kids around.” I shrugged. “What can you do?”
    Haley reached over, grabbed Monica by the chin, and tilted her head down.
    “Holy. Shit.” Monica had a Ph.D in cussing.
    I looked down. Holy shit was right.
    From the waist up, Molly Miars was plastic, but from the waist down, she was missing.

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    Chapter 2
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    The door rattled behind us. We turned around in unison and stared at it. Light knocking started up.
    “Is there someone in there?” A deep male voice called from the other side of the door.
    “Yes, give us a minute.” I yelled.
    “Haley, go and stall. Monica and I will …” I gestured toward the casket, “close her up.”
    “We’re saying a private farewell. Molly was a dear friend. Just give us a moment.” Haley said in a loud, fake teary voice as she walked to the door.
    “Certainly, but the viewing starts in twenty minutes.” The male voice was firm, but consoling.
    I yanked on the bottom lid, but it didn’t budge. I yanked harder. The casket rocked back and forth, but the lid didn’t close.
    I turned to Monica, who’d whipped Molly’s dress up and was photographing her plastic parts.
    “Do I want to know why you’re doing that?” In an evening crammed full of weirdness, this shouldn’t have shocked me, but hey, I guess I’m easily shock–able.
    “So I can research where they came from.” She pointed to a tiny patch of numbers. “I think those are serial numbers.”
    I leaned over. There was indeed a small tag with numbers on the bottom of the torso. It was good to know that fake plastic body parts came with a VIN.
    “Hurry. We need to figure out how to close this thing.” I walked around to the back and checked the hinges. They were locked in place. I felt around for a lever or a latch, but I couldn’t find anything. Mentally I went to my old standby for fixing most things—bang on it with a hammer, but damn it, I didn’t have a hammer. “Either of you have a hammer?”
    Haley unlooped her purse from under her arm, opened the front pocket, and pulled out a small black gun. “Use the butt of this. It’s a Smith and Wesson nine millimeter.”
    Monica looked at me. “Yep, we don’t know her at all.”
    Haley’s arm reared back like she was going to toss