Tomb With a View

She made a pish-tush sort of sound. “Marjorie was the one who was jealous of me,” she insisted. She looked at Ray, her eyes glistening with mischief. “After all, I’ve got the hot hunk of a boyfriend she always wanted. That’s why she was so mean to me all the time. She knew Ray didn’t love her. She knew he was only spending time with her because she was leading him on about the money. Yes, I was angry that she took up so much of Ray’s time. But as you can see, Ray and I have worked that out, and I came out the winner.”

“But the day Marjorie was killed, you were both in the cemetery, and when I saw you that morning before I headed over to the memorial, you both looked a little guilty and a little flustered. Because . . .” If I wasn’t supposed to be a professional detective, I would have slapped my forehead. “I saw the two of you coming out of the copy room. You were doing . . .” I made a funny little waving gesture toward the bench. It was better than actually saying the words. “You were doing up there what you were just doing down here.”

“Not exactly,” Ray corrected me. “The copy room . . . that’s too public. You know, too much of a risk. But we were getting a few smooches in.” He grinned at Doris. “Right, honeybun?”

Doris hurried forward to put a hand on my shoulder to console me. “So you see, Pepper, we couldn’t have killed Marjorie. I’m sorry to disappoint you.” I’ve got to say, I had to love a woman who apologized for not being a murderer. “I know you’d like to get to the bottom of the mystery, but it couldn’t have possibly been either me or Ray. We were busy. You know, together.”

Now that we’d cleared all that up, there didn’t seem to be anything else to say. Doris was still twinkling like a prom queen, but Ray must have suddenly realized just how awkward the situation was. He shifted from foot to foot. “You think we should all go upstairs together? You know, so we don’t look too suspicious?”

“That’s probably a good idea. That way, if anybody asks, we can tell them we were down here checking on the envelope supply or something. Only, Ray . . .” Honest, I just couldn’t bring myself to say it. I touched the light of the laser pointer ever so briefly to Ray’s fly. “You might want to zip your pants first.”

18

That was enough excitement for one day. All the rest of that Saturday, I kept my head down and my nose to the grindstone, for once concentrating on cemetery business because when I even did so much as let my brain tippy-toe toward my case . . .

That image burned in my brain, the one of Ray and Doris together? That was just too freakin’ creepy for words.

Doing my best to keep the memories to a minimum, I checked and rechecked my fall tour schedule and got all the information typed up and put on Ella’s desk so she’d find it first thing Monday morning when she came in. While I was at it, I remembered that she’d been bugging me about writing an article for the Garden View employee newsletter about what it was like to be the one-and-only full-time tour guide in so famous a place. I, predictably, had been stalling. Not to mention dodging and overlooking. Desperate to keep busy, I pulled out all the stops and worked on the article, too, and though it was mostly a lot of hooey about what an honor it was to spend my days among the famous and the dead, I knew it would thrill Ella no end. Not to mention get her off my back.

By the time I had finished everything, locked up my office, and stepped out in the hallway, I realized it was after five and that even Jennine was gone for the day. It was quiet in the administration building. Too quiet. Sure, there were federal agents staked out all around the president’s memorial waiting to waylay Jack if he showed, but that didn’t do me a whole bunch of good. It was time for me to head home and lock myself in the safety of my apartment.

I would have done it, too, if I hadn’t heard another noise from down in the basement.

Believe me, I’d learned my lesson. Even before I started down the steps, I knew I wasn’t going to look. All I wanted to do was remind Doris and Ray to lock up when they were done doing what they were doing.

With that in mind, I paused outside the door to the locker room. I heard no grunting. No sighing. No huffing and puffing. Since that was what I was expecting, I dared to take the smallest of peeks. Good thing I had those sneakers on and hadn’t made any noise coming down the steps. I saw Jack McArthur looking through Marjorie’s locker long before he saw me.

The feds had already come to get the credit cards Ella and I found the day before, but hey, when the moment is right, I’m all about drama. I reached into my purse and pulled out a few of my own credit cards, just so I could wave them in the air when I sauntered into the room and said, “Is this what you’re looking for?”

Jack must have had nerves of steel; he never flinched. But then, I guess a criminal mastermind is made of sterner stuff than ordinary people.