Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 121578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 608(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 608(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
“Have you spoken to her since then?” Detective Wood asks.
“Not since the service.” I turn and peer into the hallway. Where’d Jigsaw go? “She sent me a thank-you card but I haven’t spoken to her.”
“Can we see the card?”
“Uh, yeah.” Where’d I put it? Dad’s office probably. I wouldn’t have taken it upstairs. I incline my head, indicating they can follow me.
No sign of Jigsaw in the hallway. I try to casually glance into the parlor but unless I stop and crane my neck around the corner, I can’t see much.
Inside my father’s office, I round the desk and walk straight to the wall where he often tacks up personal notes from family members. Laurel’s card is tucked into the corner with the envelope behind it.
It’s nothing fancy. A small, simple white card with a white rose on the front.
I quickly flip it open even though I already know what it says.
Dear Mr. Cedarwood and Margot,
I don’t have the words to fully express the depth of my gratitude for your kindness and generosity during one of the most painful times in my life. The care and compassion you showed in arranging and caring for baby Ashley is a comfort to my heart in a way I didn’t think was possible.
Forever grateful,
Laurel
Tears sting my eyes. Not the time to get emotional. I close the card and hand it to Detective Wood. He flips it open and slowly scans the note, then passes it to his partner.
Without looking at the card, Detective Wearmouth asks, “Did you have any personal interaction with Mrs. Larsen?”
“Of course I did,” I answer in a tone meant to convey what a dumb question that is. “The normal interaction I’d have with any family. She also stopped by before the service to give me a baby blanket that she knitted.” I have to stop to take a breath. “She asked to have her daughter wrapped in it.”
This man must be made of stone, his expression doesn’t shift at all. “Is that normal?”
“Nothing about the situation was normal. But yes, parents especially, will give us items to put in with their children.”
Detective Wood groans.
Oh, sorry. Did that make you uncomfortable?
Detective Wearmouth flips the envelope over and studies the blank side. “No return address,” he mutters.
“She said she was going to stay with her mom or her sister,” I offer. “But I didn’t ask for the address.”
“Why not?”
I only stalk bad guys. “We didn’t need it.”
“No final bills or anything?” he persists.
I drop my gaze to the floor. “There were no bills. My father didn’t charge her for the service. For any of it.”
“What about the remains?” Detective Wood asks.
“They were ready for her at the service.”
“Is that normal?” Detective Wearmouth asks. “Not to charge for a funeral?”
“As I said, nothing about the situation was normal.” After a breath, I add, “Thankfully.”
“Did your father know Mrs. Larsen before she came to you for the funeral?”
My eyes widen in surprise. Why would they think that? “No. As far as I know, she was referred to us by the hospital.”
“Then why the free funeral?”
Why are they so stuck on this point?
How do I explain human decency to two people who probably don’t see a lot of it?
“It was an awful…tragic situation. We often waive costs for stillborn babies or infants.” I swallow hard, fighting for composure. “The cost and work for us is much less in those cases. It just seems like the right thing to do.” I straighten my spine, lift my chin, and stare Detective Wearmouth down. “Three generations of Cedarwoods have operated this way. We’re not unique. Other funeral homes have similar policies.”
April says even her soulless, corporate funeral home waives the cost for a simple infant burial.
“I see.” Detective Wearmouth grunts and hands the card back to me.
They still seem suspicious. They’re detectives who deal with death on a regular basis. But they’re on the ugliest end of it. Their job isn’t to care for the dead and bring families peace. It’s to bring bad men to justice.
If they didn’t fail at their jobs so often, I wouldn’t have to be standing here as nervous as a mortician awaiting her own autopsy.
CHAPTER NINE
Jigsaw
As soon as I realized two of Slater County’s finest were at the front door, I slid out of the viewing room, into the hallway, and slipped up the first few stairs. Unless the cops want a tour of the entire house, I’ll be out of their sight but still able to hear the highlights of the conversation.
The less law enforcement knows about Margot’s involvement with my MC, the better.
Once Margot moved the detectives to her father’s office, I tiptoed into the parlor, staying out of sight but within listening range.
Didn’t I just warn her about this exact situation?
If I were superstitious, I’d think I jinxed her.