Jenner decided to try Maggie Craine one last time. The phone rang five times; when she didn’t answer, it defaulted to voice mail.
She was done with him. That night at the Palmetto Court had been it, the beginning and the end of their relationship. She’d warned him; Jenner hated that he still wanted more.
Rudge had arranged for them to visit the funeral home at half past seven. They met for dinner at Red Lobster, an almost silent meal. Rudge was quiet and guarded, bracing for the fallout from a possible disaster. Jenner felt bad about his suspicions—a decent black man, back on his feet after a rough start, and there was Jenner stirring up trouble and suspicion. When the check arrived, Jenner moved to treat, but Rudge pinned it to the table, insisting on paying his share.
They drove to the funeral home in the Taurus, parking under shade trees hoary with Spanish moss; except for a gray Acura, the lot was empty.
Rudge rang the bell, and they waited on the porch in silence. The scrub oaks lining the street formed a gloomy canopy in the gathering dusk; the only sound was the flutter of insect wings in the buzzing overhead light.
Rudge rang again, then walked the length of the porch, peering in the side windows; all the ground-floor rooms were lit but there was no activity inside.
The detective nodded toward the lot. “We can go in through the embalming area.”
The loading bay doors were shut, but the side door was unlocked. Inside, light from the prep area hallway spilled into the bay; in the garage, the hearses were lined up neatly in place.
They found Reggie in the office. A clock radio on a shelf was shrilling Motown hits; he didn’t seem to notice them as they came in.
Rudge said, “Hey, Reggie. We’re here.”
Reggie stood up hurriedly, “Dave, doctor, sorry! I didn’t hear you—time got away from me.”
He shook hands with Rudge, then slipped on his jacket.
“Look, I’m sorry, but we got a problem…”
Rudge was suddenly grim. “What problem, Reggie?”
His cousin shifted uneasily, looking at the floor.
“There was a mix-up, and…”
“And what? Now no body?”
“I’m sorry. They were rushing to get her up to Chicago; her son was going to ride with her body and wanted to get moving. There was nothing I could’ve done without offending them.” He looked at Jenner and added, “And you know how people are when they’re mourning, doc.”
Rudge was shaking his head. “You should’ve at least given us a heads-up, Reggie.”
“Dave, what was I going to do? Make the family sit and wait, knowing their mom was rotting in the van? I made a judgment call, and I made it on behalf of the family.”
Reggie looked back at Jenner. “Doctor, what’s this all about? I don’t understand.”
Jenner said, “I don’t even know if it’s about anything.” He turned to Rudge. “Give me a ride back to the morgue?”
Rudge said, “Okay. But, seriously, Reggie…you fucked up.”
Jones said, “C’mon, Dave! There’s only so much I can do.”
Jenner said, “Actually, mind if I have a look in the embalming room?”
“No problem, doc. Go ahead. We got nothing to hide.”
Rudge and Reggie watched from the doorway as Jenner looked at the table and the cabinets and the shelves. The lights were harsh in the tiled room, and Jenner could smell the same subtle sour-sharp chemical aroma of formaldehyde, and the waxy smell of makeup, but there was nothing to find, and Jenner found nothing.
He wasn’t even sure what he was looking for.
But he had the seed of an idea.