They shook hands, passed their creds to the three Sparrows. Susan said, “Do sit down and tell us what we can do for you. First, though, how is Gunny?” Susan Sparrow waved them to a lovely gray sofa with a coffee table and three chairs facing it. On the coffee table Ty saw a pile of magazines—the top one Funeral Business Advisor, which sure sounded better, she thought, than, say, Crematorium Weekly.
Ty sat down and sank into the soft gray leather. “She’s going to be fine. I must tell you, she announced she’s changed her name back to Leigh now, her birth name.”
Landry Sparrow sat forward in his chair, and said in a clear tenor voice, “Why would she do that? That doesn’t sound like the Gunny we all know.” Ty looked closely at the good-looking man dressed in a gray pinstriped suit and black tie. He was fit, his hair a dark brown with touches of gray at his temples. On the Wowza scale, she put him at an eight.
Susan said, “It sounds more adult, I guess.”
Landry shrugged. “Whatever she wants to call herself now, we’re all pleased to hear she’s awake. It was a terrible thing, someone hitting her on the head. Do you know who it was?”
“Not yet,” Sala said. “Ms. Chugger tells us you oversee your deceased clients in the crematorium oven, Mr. Sparrow? Could you describe the procedure?”
Susan said quickly, “We have a variety of procedures, rituals, actually, and they vary depending on the client. More than one person is required to see the operations are carried out professionally and with respect. We all take part.”
“A pity our clients don’t know how well we’re taking care of their corporeal selves.” Eric Sparrow grinned and poured himself a cup of coffee from the antique silver pot on the table. He held up the pot, but there were no takers.
Landry said, “Our clients are actually the families of the deceased. Only they can truly appreciate how well we take care of their loved one’s corporeal remains.”
Eric toasted his coffee cup at his brother, still grinning. Unlike Landry, Eric looked like the proverbial bad boy, tough and good-looking—well, tough and a little dangerous-looking, and Ty wondered how efficient he’d be in a bar fight. He wore a slouchy black Hugo Boss jacket over a tight black T-shirt that showed off his muscular chest. Ty knew Hugo Boss, her older brother was an acolyte. Eric had beard scruff on his face and wore his dark hair on the long side. He had a blade of a nose, obviously never broken. His eyes were as dark as his brother’s, his hair nearly the same dark brown. He was too young to have distinguishing gray at his temples. He lounged back in his chair, the coffee cup in his hand, and gave Ty the once-over. He was very thorough. Then he saluted her with his cup. “You’re really a police chief?”
Ty was tempted to crack her knuckles, but didn’t. She cocked her head at him. “Why do you ask, Mr. Sparrow?”
“Well, you’re very pretty, for one thing, not at all like Chief Masters, with big feet and hair on his knuckles. Now that’s a man I don’t like to mess with. He beat the crap out of me years ago, and I haven’t forgotten. I deserved it, of course, and he didn’t pull any of his punches. But you, Chief Christie? I’d like to mix it up with you.”
“Whatever it is you mean by that, Mr. Sparrow, it’s a good bet I’d break your jaw,” Ty said, and gave him a smile, with teeth.
Eric Sparrow’s dark eyes shined. Before she could belt him or maybe laugh, Landry said, “Now, you were asking about how we care for the remains of the deceased during their cremation? It’s very straightforward. A final, more economical coffin rolls on the conveyor belt into the oven. It is very clean, very efficient. I understand that was the reason Leigh Saks quit, she accidentally saw a cremation, something she was not meant to see.” He paused a moment, frowned. “I guess it hits too close to home for some people, if you know what I mean, particularly for someone like Gunny—Leigh. It is not one of my favorite activities here at the crematorium.”
Sala said, “As in you can imagine yourself inside the coffin heading into the oven?”
“That’s right. Some people can’t help it.”
Eric said, “I usually try to think the deceased deserves it, but you can’t count on that always working.”
“Eric, stop it.” Susan tried to wipe the smile off her face, but couldn’t. She cleared her throat. “Agent Porto, Chief Christie, we are very pleased Leigh is recovering. Since you’re not asking us about her time here, I imagine your being here has to do with your finding that Star of David belt buckle with the bones at the bottom of Lake Massey.” She paused and looked down at her hands, so tightly clasped in her lap her knuckles were white. “It’s all over town now that the buckle belonged to Mr. Henry LaRoque, and that brings up concerns.”
Before she could say anything else, Landry said in a clipped, hard voice, “My parents put up with enough sneers and snide comments when the story about that unspeakable crematory in Georgia broke some years ago, but it’s outrageous if you seriously think something like that could happen again. Here. We’re the ones who cremated Mr. Henry, and then you find those bones and Mr. Henry’s belt buckle. So that must mean we don’t really cremate our clients’ deceased loved ones, but instead, we haul them off to Lake Massey and dump them?” He paused a beat, then his voice sharpened, became impassioned. “We respect our calling, as did our parents and our grandparents. We respect what it means to put your faith in someone who will take appropriate care of a person you loved who has died. We always fulfill our contractual and sacred duties, always. We are not insane, Agent, Chief, nor are we stupid, which I’ve always believed is exactly what those people in Georgia were.”
“Well said, bro,” Eric said, still lounging in the chair like a lizard sunning himself. “Throw in evil, and I’d agree one hundred percent. Even if it was an enemy who died, I wouldn’t chuck his carcass into a lake, though I might sit back and enjoy burning his worthless ass. It should be obvious to you we run a reputable business here. What else do you want to know?”
Ty said, “Mr. LaRoque’s wake was held here, is that right? The night before his memorial service and his cremation?”
“Yes, that’s right,” Susan said. “Everything was beautifully done. Lulie provided all the edibles for the large group who came to pay their respects and share stories of how he’d touched their lives.”
Ty asked, “Did you see his body?”
Eric shook his head. “His coffin was kept closed after he was delivered here by Chief Masters, at his son’s request. Calhoun even arranged for the medical examiner to wrap him tightly in a shroud, a service we normally provide ourselves. There was no reason for anyone, including us, to unwrap him, so for his memorial we simply moved him into a better coffin, a very fancy one that Calhoun insisted on renting—not buying—and closed the lid for the memorial service. Afterward we cremated him immediately because, as you know, there was no preservation.”
Susan said, “All we can be sure about is that Mr. Henry was not cremated wearing that belt buckle, only the shroud. It wasn’t present in the ashes. We have no more idea than you how the belt buckle got into Lake Massey. I would have thought Leigh was mistaken about seeing it, but then someone attacked her, leaving no doubt at all.” She leaned forward, her eyes never leaving their faces. “There is no reason to believe we were involved in any of this.”
Landry said, “How did Leigh see the belt buckle?”
Ty couldn’t think of a single reason not to tell them all of it, and she did.
Su
san was blinking rapidly when she finished. “Gun—Leigh remembered this so clearly? She actually said she saw him polishing the belt buckle? The Star of David belt buckle? But how is that possible? I mean, Gunny—Leigh—was always sweet and kind, and she tried so hard. But it took her time to even get her thoughts in order. For her to recount what happened five years ago? In such detail?”
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