Murder in the Hearse Degree by Tim Cockey Read Free Book Online Page A

Each had the same pose as on the first one, but the races and ethnicities were different. An Asian family, a Hispanic family, a black family. Only the dog and the cat remained the same. I took a pamphlet and glanced through it. The pamphlet was a fairly straightforward tract promoting brotherhood, motherhood, core family values and regular church attendance. From the bright chipper smiles on the front, I suspected brushing and flossing were implied in there somewhere.
    “What’s up with this?” Potts asked. “Was Sophie some kind of Jesus freak?”
    “You will not call Sophie names please?” Eva took one of the pamphlets and scanned it. She looked over at Libby. “My daughter was going to church, yes?”
    “She did,” Libby answered. “She went to church every Sunday.”
    “Do you know this? The A-R-K?” She spelled it out.
    “It sounds familiar,” Libby said. “The ARK. It’s one of those religious coalition groups, isn’t it?”
    Eva had moved over to the dresser. There was a small green jewelry box. She opened it and began poking through.
    “Maybe I will take these,” she said sadly, pulling out several sets of earrings and a few bracelets. As I watched, the woman went pale. She turned slowly to Libby. She was mordant.
    “What’s this?” She was holding up a wedding band. Her voice wavered. “Murray?”
    Potts went over to her and took the ring from her.
    “Jesus Christ.”
    Eva’s shoulders sagged. Gravity took hold of her face as well. “I don’t understand. I want to leave. Murray, I just want to go.”
    Libby stepped over to the couple. “Can I see that?”
    She took the wedding band from Potts and eyeballed it, then gave it back to Eva, who dropped it back into the jewelry box and flipped the lid closed. She glanced once more around the small room.
    “My baby girl . . .”
    She left the room. Potts started to say something, then thought better of it. He followed after his wife. I turned to Libby. The blood was gone from her face.
    “The ring, Hitch. That wedding ring.”
    “What about it?”
    It took her a moment to focus on my face.
    “It’s Mike’s.”

 
CHAPTER
5
     
    I had a customer waiting for me when I got back. His name was Oliver Engelhart. Mr. Engelhart had run one of the antique shops on what is called Antique Row over on Howard Street. In its long-ago heyday, Howard Street was one of Baltimore’s bustling boulevards, south Howard featuring some of the city’s premiere theaters and vaudeville houses. Charm City’s Broadway. I’m all of thirty-four last time I checked, so I can’t exactly start waxing nostalgic about all this, but I’ve seen glossy black-and-white pictures and it looked awfully good to me. Fancy sedans. Furs. Top hats. Excitable marquee lights. By the time I had reached the age of sentience all of that was long long gone, of course, and the only big thing remaining on Howard Street was the large Hutzler Brothers Department Store building, scattered wig shops, and anemic-looking shoe stores. The city has now banned a portion of Howard Street to all traffic except for buses and the light rail. It’s a pedestrian street now, though my imagination fails to come up with too many reasons why anyone would want to be strolling around the old boulevard anymore. That is, except for north Howard Street and its Antique Row. Which is where Mr. Engelhart worked. Which is where my digression began.
    A fellow named Clifford was responsible for making the arrangements. Clifford was a compact little man with a Steve McQueen haircut and hands as freckled as a leopard. Clifford wanted a viewing, and he wanted to know if he would be allowed to include in the viewing a few of Mr. Engelhart’s personal possessions.
    “Oliver had a grandeur. I don’t want him just . . . lying there in a casket,” Clifford said to me. “That really wasn’t Oliver.”
    Well, I hope that really isn’t any of us, but of course I kept that observation to myself. I assured Clifford