A Catered Mother's Day Read Online Free PDF Page B

that.”
    â€œI hope so. Why not just leave? Why call us?”
    â€œI’m guessing because she was so panicked she couldn’t move.”
    Bernie brushed a speck of lint off her black T-shirt. “So given that we’re agreed with the fact that Ellen didn’t kill this guy—we are, aren’t we?”
    Libby nodded.
    â€œWe’re left with the question of how this guy got here. I think there are three possibilities.” And Bernie ticked them off on her fingers through the plastic bag. “Either this guy was killed in this room, he was killed in the parking lot, or he was dead already, and whoever the killer was saw Ellen leaving and decided to take advantage of the opportunity and put the body on the bed, after which, he drove off.”
    â€œHighly unlikely,” Libby said. “Most people don’t drive around with dead bodies.”
    â€œExcept for Marvin.”
    â€œHa-ha. It’s his job. He owns a funeral home.”
    â€œI know. I just couldn’t resist the opening. Anyway,” Bernie said, getting back to business, “we’re agreed our dead guy was probably not killed in the motel room, right?”
    â€œRight,” Libby said. “There’s the parking lot. Maybe the person I saw—”
    Bernie interrupted. “You never said it was a person,” she countered. “You said it was a deer.”
    â€œNo. You said it was a deer. I said I wasn’t sure. Anyway, maybe he had something to do with this.”
    â€œWell, if he did, he’s long gone by now.” Bernie tapped her fingers on her thigh. “But for the sake of argument, let’s say you’re right. Let’s say this hypothetical person did kill him. It still doesn’t answer the question of why the dead guy is on the bed. Why not leave his body in the woods?”
    â€œMaybe the dead guy was intended as a message to Ellen,” Libby suggested.
    â€œDoubtful. To what end?” Bernie extended her hands, palms outward. “She’s a housewife, for heaven’s sake, not a Mafia member. She runs a dog biscuit company; the only places she goes are the grocery store and the soccer field to watch her kids play ball.”
    â€œAll I know,” Libby said, pointing to the dead guy, “is that he didn’t get here in some space-time continuum accident.”
    â€œNo kidding.” Bernie flexed her fingers in the bag. “You know how they always say on crime shows how dead bodies speak to them? Well, this one’s not saying anything to me.”
    â€œAnd a good thing too,” Libby responded. “Bad enough to deal with a dead body, let alone one who talks.”
    â€œThat would make him a zombie, in which case I’d be out of here.” Bernie slipped the Ziplock bag off her hand and held it out to Libby. “Hold this for a moment, would you?”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œI want to document everything.”
    Bernie reached into her tote and took out her phone. When she was done, she put her phone back in her tote, took the Ziplock bag from Libby, put it back over her hand, and started going through the dead man’s pants pockets.
    As Libby watched, she couldn’t help thinking of her mom emptying her dad’s pants pockets before she did the laundry. “Mom would not have approved of what you’re doing,” Libby found herself blurting out.
    Bernie straightened up. “She’d have a fit. But then if Mom was alive we wouldn’t be doing this.”
    â€œThat’s for sure,” Libby said, remembering how their mom had acted when their dad had discussed his cases around the dinner table. She’d always say, “Can’t we talk about something more pleasant? Any luck?”
    â€œNot even lint.” There were six pockets, three to a side, and all of them were empty. No wallet. No cell phone. No keys. No nothing. Bernie clasped her palms together and brought her fingers up to