A Beeline to Murder

Inside the kitchen, Abby fed Sugar and sank onto a high stool next to her unfinished cup of coffee. She would at least allow herself time to drink the rest of the coffee, though she wished she had a linzer cookie—her favorite—to go with it. Then she needed to make some calls to the local funeral home, check on Etienne’s new alibi details, see if she could plug the hole in Willie Dobbs’s alibi, and then hook up with Philippe to search his brother’s apartment for anything of relevance to the case. But no two ways about it, Sugar needed a bath. The dog stank. Sensing she would regret it, Abby resolved to let the doggy bath wait.

Her first call was to the morgue to make sure that Philippe had his facts straight and that he could take the body. He could. The next call was to Shadyside Funeral Home, a full-service facility that offered everything from picking up the body to preparing it for viewing and burial and conducting chapel services. Several funeral services were already scheduled for that week at Shadyside, and the facility’s director told Abby that staffing-wise, they were stretched thin. But they would try to accommodate Abby and Philippe’s needs. The director offered an option: a viewing of the body at 2:00 p.m. and a graveside service at 4:00 p.m. at the small Catholic cemetery next to the Church of the Pines, which was about a mile out of town, up the mountain. There were no cemeteries in town, except for the historical one, because of local zoning laws and also concerns over flooding. Part of the town, where the creek ran through, was a designated floodplain. No one wanted buried caskets to rise up and float during seasonal floods.

Abby called Philippe. Would he and his parents object to a wake at the funeral home and a graveside service at the Church of the Pines? She figured Philippe would at least want to see the location first. Her call went to voice mail, so Abby left a message. While she waited for him to return her call, Abby dialed Kat to ask about rendezvousing at Dobbs’s estate.

“But it’s my day off,” Kat protested.

“I know,” Abby replied, “but Dobbs and I have already had a run-in. If he’s there, he might call the cops. If I bring my own cop friend, maybe he’ll be a little more helpful and a little less aggressive. And you know I’ll make it up to you.”

“How? I already have a year’s supply of honey.”

“Okay, no honey. What else?”

“Stand in for me on a dinner date with Bernie.”

“Now, why in the world would I do that?” Abby felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“He doesn’t do favors for nothing. Remember all that evidence bagged and tagged at the pastry shop? You know that evidence is supposed to be logged in by the investigating officer. So, Bernie helped me out. I was drowning in paperwork and had to write my report. I owe him dinner.” Kat was beginning to sound a little whiny.

“Arghhh. You told him you would take him to dinner?”

“It’s what he wanted! Abby . . . girlfriend! Just tease him. Tell him you’re skipping dinner and going straight to dessert. Then take him for a scoop of ice cream and use that stupid line he uses on women. ‘I’m here for a good time, not a long time.’ ” Kat chuckled. “It might work.”

“Not funny,” Abby said. “It’s you he wants to go out with, not me.”

“Do I have to remind you that we are talking about Bernie here, a guy who would go out with a Saint Bernard if it wore a bustier?”

Resigned that this was an argument she couldn’t win, Abby asked, “If I agree to that date with Bernie, will you meet me at Dobbs’s place in twenty-five minutes?”

“No problem.”

“Okay. Let’s rendezvous in front of the guard gate.”

“I won’t be in uniform,” Kat reminded her.

“It doesn’t matter. Dobbs knows you.”