Rest in Pieces Read Free Page B

it to me.
    “Don’t throw it. I assume that it’s loaded. Throwing a loaded gun can’t be good.” Growing up in Texas and having married a cop, I’d been around guns my whole life, but I’d never handled one myself.
    “The safety’s on and there’s no bullet in the chamber. It’s fine.” She tossed the gun to me. I caught it like a softball and used it to bang on the hinges. They finally gave way. The bottom lid clattered closed with a loud thud.
    “What’s going on in there?” The man on the other side of the door was back. “I insist that you open this door immediately.”
    “Just a few more minutes.” Haley said. “Molly was so special to us.”
    The man started pounding, and the doors rattled against the baton.
    “I can’t hold him off much longer.” Haley leaned against the doors, using her body weight to keep them closed.
    I grabbed the floral spray of pink roses and slapped it on top of the closed lid.
    Monica tucked the dress back into place and we stuffed the bottom under the closed lid.
    “I’m having a little trouble with the arm. I can’t pop it back into place.” Monica had the arm up and was wiggling it. “There’s a bolt or something sticking out.”
    She dropped the arm and there was a good two–inch gap between the upper arm and the shoulder. The fuchsia material sagged in the separation.
    “Do something fast. I’m about to take out the police baton. I can’t stall him much longer.” Haley’s body rattled with the doors as the pounding got louder.
    “She’s lying on her hair. Let’s pull it out and cover her shoulders. She has … um … had long hair.” I couldn’t think of anything else. Molly’s right shoulder was considerably lower than her left. It was noticeable.
    “I’m not touching her head again. I already verified that it was her actual head. I’m not touching dead hair.” Monica threw her hands up and stepped back. “You’re on your own.”
    It looked like the buck stopped with the President of the PTO. “Fine.”
    Gently, I slid my hand underneath Molly’s head, and tugged out a good bit of her red hair out. I smoothed it over her right shoulder, and then I grabbed more and smoothed it over her left. It wasn’t bad, but clearly whoever had fixed her hair had used some serious hair gel to slick it back. Now that I had disturbed the slicked–back do, the hair flopped down over her face in a crusty tidal wave. We needed a headband of something to pull this off. I scanned the room for something that would work.
    “Haley, throw me that scarf around your neck.” It wasn’t perfect, but we didn’t have much choice.
    “Why?” She kept throwing her body weight against the doors to keep them closed.
    “I need it to make the hair look right.” Short of weaving pink carnations in her hair, which was too flower girl at a royal wedding, I didn’t have any other choice.
    “But I like this scarf. It doesn’t go with her outfit.” She picked up the edge of her black and red scarf. “Will I get it back?”
    Slowly, Monica turned around to stare at her. “Do you want it back after this?”
    I cocked my head to the left and shot her a look. “We don’t have much time.”
    After rolling her eyes, she untied the scarf one handed. I ran over, grabbed it, and was back at the casket in a flash. Again punching down the old gag reflex, I looped the scarf behind Molly’s ears and tied it. My fingers grazed something metal. I felt around. Apparently a metal rod was how the funeral home or whoever had secured the head to the plastic body. My hand slipped and my finger grazed the crease where the neck met the plastic. Revulsion sent a shiver down my spine. I pulled my hand away.
    What could have happened to Molly that would result in a pole connecting her head to a fake body?
    The addition of the scarf wasn’t much better but it would have to do. If you didn’t look too closely, the mismatched shoulders weren’t that noticeable. With any luck, Molly wouldn’t