Indivisible (14 page)

“Uh-oh.”

“Yeah. Miles ran out the back.”

“Oh, boy.”

“I get that Jonah wants to question him about your store, but he’s wrong to think Miles has anything to do with dead animals.”

“How can you know?”

“I just know. I told the chief I’ve been asking around and—”

“I’ll bet that went over well.”

“He got kind of scary.”

“He’s not a safe man, Piper.”

“Except … he is. Even when he gets hard and intense, I know he’s protecting me.”

Tia stared at the candles. “Just don’t confuse protective with safe.”

Fourteen

If two lie down together, they will keep warm. But how can one keep warm alone?

—ECCLESIASTES 4:11

A
s he headed toward town the next morning in his Lysol-scented Bronco, Jonah phoned Liz. “I’m sorry to call so early, but I was hoping to catch you before you opened.”

“What is it?”

“Another pair of animals I’d like you to examine.”

“Like the last ones?”

“Close enough.”

“I’m not sure what else I can tell you.”

“I’m hoping you can verify something.”

After a pause, she said, “Where are you?”

“Can you meet me at the funeral home?”

“The …”

“Morgue is in the basement.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll explain when you get there.”

“I’m on my way.”

He waited for her outside the two-story Georgian-style house flanked by tall pines that spread a rusty bed of needles and cones on the sparse lawn. With a flat, windowed, brick face, it was one of several historically protected buildings in the town. It had been a funeral parlor for over fifty years, but was also a residence.

Liz parked and moved toward him with her uneven gait. He wouldn’t ask, but maybe sometime she’d tell him what had happened. She had pulled her hair into a ponytail, wore minimal—if any—makeup, royal blue warmups with a yellow stripe down the leg. Obviously not trying to impress him, which he hoped meant his slip the other night had not done damage.

He liked her, didn’t want to complicate things. She greeted him with a measured smile. Polite. Professional. Friendly.

He said, “Thanks for coming.”

“You piqued my curiosity.”

“Sorry about the morgue. I needed to keep them cold until you could see them, and since I didn’t want to use my fridge …” He motioned her toward the door. “Morey agreed to keep them in here. He’ll let us have a look.”

“Nothing like the morgue in the morning.”

Smiling, Jonah rang the bell that brought Morey to the door, his belly protuberant in red silk pajamas. He had told Morey they were coming, but obviously that hadn’t inclined him toward dressing. Jonah sent her an apologetic glance.

She raised her eyebrows and followed Morey inside. They passed the viewing rooms to a heavy metal door beyond the black velvet curtains, clambered down the stairs to the morgue. The air was naturally cool, the scent moderately repugnant. Morey pulled one of the metal drawers, shaking his head and muttering.

Jonah said, “Thanks.”

“Cats?” Liz put the back of her hand to her nose. They had not been cleaned up, only chilled to slow decomposition. He realized how gory and disturbing it was.

She turned her head to her shoulder. “I help animals, Jonah.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

She drew a breath, probably wishing she hadn’t. Morey handed her a small, scented cloth.

Pulling herself together, she leaned in. “Two limbs are missing from each, corresponding fore and back legs. They were glued at the hip joint and the shoulder.”

“Glued?”

“It’s a bone epoxy. You can see where it cracked apart at the shoulder. Maybe from a blow.”

“Or a fall?”

“It’s possible.”

“What about other body parts?”

She studied the cats. “There is not a full complement for two animals. Some are missing, some are joined.”

“Why?”

“I have no idea.”

“Look at the stomach.”

“Only one for both cats. Also two lungs between them.”

“So they’ve been surgically altered.”

“I’m afraid so.” She looked up. “Is that what you wanted to know?”

He nodded. “Did they die trying to separate?”

“I see no sign of struggle.”

“So the surgery killed them?”

“Could be infection. This extreme putrefaction looks antemortem. I’ve had animals this sick and told their owners nothing could be done.”

“So they were sick already. Before someone connected them.”

“Maybe. I just don’t know.”

He pushed the drawer back in and thanked Morey. Outside, they both drew lungfuls of air. Jonah turned. “That was helpful, Liz. I appreciate your coming. Can I buy you breakfast?”

She raised her eyebrow. “Oh well, that was so appetizing.”

“Sorry. Guess I compartmentalize.”

“Any place in mind?”

“Sarge’s bakery is on the way to the station.” He checked his watch. “I don’t have too much time.”

She pulled out her keys. “I’ll follow you.”

They found easy parking in Old Town since most of the shops had not yet opened. In the clear, bright morning, the sky formed an azure backdrop to the craggy, pine-clad slopes. A paunchy gray jay chirped from the corner of a roof, and another flew to join it. Though the morning chill had not passed, the cloudless sunlight promised warmth, and Liz took a moment to draw it all in. This kind of day anything was possible.

Jonah had chosen the bakery next to the Half Moon candle shop where she’d gotten Lucy’s melts. Maybe it would be open by the time they finished eating. She’d like to see Tia, talk to her again.

He held the door for her. Did that make it a date, or were they merely colleagues sharing a meal? He respected her knowledge, consulting her when she didn’t sense he often asked for help. He appreciated her sense of humor, responded to her repartee. He wanted to be done with the other relationship—he’d said so. He just needed the right woman. Who better than one who already understood so well?

The girl behind the counter noticed Jonah the minute he walked in. They were fourth in line, but suddenly everything the young blonde did was for his benefit. Or maybe, Liz admitted, she was projecting her own feelings.

A man heading out with his order nodded. “Chief.”

“Morning, Don.”

“Ma’am.”

She smiled.

They reached the counter, and the girl looked up at Jonah with a mixed expression, waving a hand over her wares. “Strictly regulation. Not a contraband item in the case.”

“I’m not here on reconnaissance, Piper.”

She smiled brightly. “Then what can I get you?”

“Liz?”

She studied the choices laid out temptingly. “I haven’t had a bear claw in years.”

“That’s us,” Piper said, “a bastion of the obsolete.” She pulled a tissue square from the box.

“Make that two obsolete bears claws,” Jonah said. “And coffee, please.”

Liz ordered coffee too.

Piper poured and handed over their cups. “How’s Sarge?”

“Still touch and go. Things okay here?”

“You kidding? No one yelling at me? Well, except you.”

Liz raised her eyebrows.

“I didn’t yell.”

“Your face did.”

“I’ll have a talk with it.”

Her giggle made her sound half Jonah’s age. Piper handed over their pastries. “Seven ninety-five.”

Jonah paid, and it felt … nice, Liz thought, warmth spreading through her chest. They took a table for two at the window. She set down her mug and pastry, then braced herself between the chair and the small square table to sit. Jonah didn’t comment on her awkwardness.

She tore open a tiny tub of creamer for her coffee. “Nice girl.”

Jonah glanced over. “Don’t let her sweetness fool you. She’s a force. Aside from the odd jobs given to me, Sarge has never hired anyone. Now Piper runs the place.”

“Why did you yell at her?”

He sighed. “I need to question someone, and she’s running interference. Plus mucking around in the animal investigation.”

Liz felt a stab of annoyance. That was her connection. “How is she involved?”

“She found the first pair. But she’s not involved. I’m trying to get that across to her.” He bit into his bear claw. “And I didn’t yell.”

Liz quirked the corner of her mouth. “She has a crush on you.”

“Don’t even start.”

She took a bite of her pastry. “Mmm.”

“Yeah, she can bake. And you might not think it, but she works hard. Even Sarge admits that much.”

“Sarge?”

“I forget you’re new here.” Jonah took a drink of coffee. “Sarge is a fixture. He’s owned this bakery thirty—” His glance went to the window and froze there.

Liz looked from Jonah to the window where Tia hovered a moment, then changed course for her shop next-door. In that moment, it all fell into place. The candles on his mantel. The old flame.

She swallowed. It would take someone like Tia to hold him, someone who ran deeper than one might imagine. She’d sensed it with only one encounter, the way her personality hung and permeated like one of her scents. “You were saying?”

“Um. Sorry.” Jonah checked his watch. “I hate to eat and run, but I need to get in.”

“Sure.” Liz sipped her coffee. “Go ahead.”

Something had flashed in Liz’s eyes. Surprise, irritation—neither quite fit, although both would be understandable. You don’t buy someone breakfast and then leave them sitting there, not without an emergency. Certainly not because Tia had looked startled, stunned, wounded like a bird striking a window.

He went directly into his office, catching a look between Ruth and Newly as he passed. Speculation would fly. What’s got the chief in a twist? He closed the door behind him. He had let his personal life intrude—worse, his personal fantasy. Tia wasn’t even reality.

What did Tia care if he took Liz to breakfast? He should make it a real date, dinner, dancing—or maybe not with her handicap—then back to his place. Have a drink or two or twelve.

But that was before. Though still tempted, he saw the emptiness of those choices. Getting drunk and sleeping with a woman he didn’t love would sicken him, weaken him, plunge him into places he’d been, places of condemnation, of looking into the mirror and seeing his father. But why?

Because he held fidelity above gratification? He pressed his eyes shut and opened himself in silence to God, the higher power, the strength outside himself from whom fortitude and grace emanated. Unlike Jay, he didn’t want an excuse to avoid commitment. He wanted stability, completion. God knew that, knew him, the longings, the failings, the faults.

“You’re a coward and a fake. When are you going to be a man?”

That wasn’t God. Through his fingers, Jonah stared at the wall that still bore the fade marks of photos he’d removed. The last thing he’d wanted was the old man staring at him while he did the job.

“You act tough, but you’re soft as pudding inside, softer than your mother. You’re a little girl.”

That was the last time his dad had seen him cry, no matter how long the punishment lasted. Jonah leaned back in his chair. Tia had punished him for nine years, and he wasn’t crying. But when did the time come to man up and move on?

He opened the file Newly had left, probably expecting to update him verbally on Tom Caldwell. Since the DA had dropped the charges for lack of evidence, they’d kept up a loose surveillance, mainly Newly or McCarthy earning overtime staking out the house after dark. They had little to report.

Jonah closed the file. Someone else had called in the lawyer and cleaned up the property. That was the one he wanted, but no luck. Phone records had turned up no one named Greggor. He hated when a case ground to a halt or got sideswiped by attorneys.

Ruth buzzed the intercom.

“Yes.”

“Mayor’s on the line.”

Jonah answered to City Manager Dave Wolton, but the mayor liked to play in his sandbox too. Owen Buckley had a hearty appetite for attention. Jonah picked up the phone. “What can I do for you, Mayor?”

His father had enjoyed a good-old-boy camaraderie with all the officials, but Jonah still felt like an upstart dealing with the old man’s cronies.