I smiled when Hal parked closest to the door at Stiva's Funeral home. His Rangeman parking karma was still working. Would that karma still work if he worked for me at PTES?
"How are you holding up?" Hal asked. It seemed as though he was constantly interrupting my thoughts. Whether by design or pulling me from a perceived rabbit hole filled with despair, I would never know. However, this time, his question hinting at the memory of what I lost made me cry. I was trying so hard to maintain my composure. What was it about people asking if you're okay that made you cry?
"I'll be fine. I miss Grandma. She lived a full life on her terms, and I have to remember that as I navigate through the next few days," I replied.
As I had done at PTES, I waited for Ram to park his vehicle behind mine and for Hal to open my door. Hal and I entered Stiva's together, with Ram watching our backs. The men cleared the rooms of hidden threats before I met with Dave. He was tall and bulky, like a linebacker. Dave was at least seven inches taller than me. His perfectly styled dark brown hair and tailored suit, which fit him perfectly, gave him an air of wealth.
It saddened me that Dave profited from other people's loss. Such was the nature of being an undertaker, mortician or funeral director, whichever was the politically correct term. I don't care, which was proper because it had the same purpose. They made money off people's death. In some cases, they were taking advantage of the grieving family by selling services they neither wanted nor needed.
"Stephanie," Dave said, remembering to use my given name, "I have your grandmother prepared in the crematorium wing. It's an industrial-type setting." The funeral director, Dave Baker, was ruggedly handsome for a man in his late forties. He purchased the funeral home from the previous owner, whose name I couldn't remember because it transferred hands almost as fast as Grandma could pop open the casket. I nodded and followed him to the area where he had Grandma lying on a wooden slab on a metal table.
My heart sank into my stomach as I looked at Grandma. Her face appeared distorted; her lips and eyes glued shut. The EMT left her dentures on the coffee table at Dad's house, so Grandma had the slack, sagging lips. Gravity pulled her lips down, making her mouth appear too large for her face, like the Joker on Batman. I recognized Grandma, though the woman on the table seemed to be a stranger, not the smiling woman unafraid of having fun. Her skin felt sticky despite Dave washing her for the identification, also called the witnessing before cremation.
The room was hot from the fire burning in the cremation oven a few feet from the table. Its large oversized door reminded me of old black and white movies, where those large doors are opened and wide on the boiler as people shove coal into the flames with the shovel to keep it burning hot. Overhead fans whirred to keep the room from filling with unbreathable smoke or unimaginable heat. It was uncomfortable, worse than the sensation of lying on a tanning bed.
My eyes wanted to avoid looking at Grandma. It was hard seeing her lying on a table in preparation for the fire, which would melt her flesh and burn so hot to turn her bones to ashes. "I miss you, Grandma," I whispered before kissing her forehead.
Dave let me stay with Grandma for a few minutes before announcing, "It's time." I wiped the tears from my cheeks and nodded. Seeing Grandma displayed like that was hard. It was a necessary part of the process.
"Thank you," I whispered as I passed Dave. He gestured to his partner, Colin, to complete the cremation task.
"Follow me," Dave insisted. "You don't want to be here once Colin lights the fire." He rushed me to the other side of Stiva's, where they conducted sales and visitations.
I looked at urns and other boxes to house the ashes. One urn stood out, and I went to the display table to look closer at the design. Grandma would have loved it. "My grandma arranged her funeral, but did she purchase an urn?" I asked.
"She has," Dave answered. I gently touched the patterns on the vibrant blue and purple urn. The purple butterfly design on the blue background was mesmerizing.
"Oh. I like this one," I said. Grandma would love that urn.
Dave surprised me by saying, "Of all the urns I have on display, you selected the one your grandmother purchased."
My lip curled in an involuntary smile as I nodded. There was a momentary silence before I asked, "When can we have the interment?"
"Any time after tomorrow morning," he replied.
"Could we have it tomorrow afternoon after the funeral mass?" I queried. "My mom and I planned the Celebration of Life for five. We need thirty minutes to set up at the hall."
"What time is mass?" Dave asked.
I checked the notes on my phone and answered, "One."
"Meet me at the Mazur's family plot once service ends," Dave suggested.
"Thank you," I replied. I turned to walk away from Dave now that I had everything planned. Dave never mentioned a fee for delivering the ashes to the cemetery, though I expect Grandma had already covered that contingency. I would need to see the receipt from Stiva's to be sure.
"Stephanie, I'm sorry for your loss. I know how much you loved your grandmother."
"But?" I asked, knowing there was definitely a but coming.
"I'm glad she can't cause a commotion during a viewing. It's a shame she passed away before Bella. It's truly a blessing in disguise since she can't make a scene at Bella's funeral. We're having the visitation and funeral on Friday. Angie Morelli didn't want to take away from your grandmother's service," Dave replied without sounding apologetic. "I heard Bella mumbled that she saw Edna's ghost pointing at her. Angie believes Edna cursed her to death."
I nodded and felt stunned by Angie waiting until we buried Grandma before arranging her own ceremony for Bella and the accusation of Grandma presenting herself to Bella. The part about Grandma's death being a blessing in disguise irritated me. I fought back the tears caused by his insensitive comment and childishly hoped one of Grandma's friends would continue the tradition if the casket were closed. It would have been better to do both at once. However, I don't want Grandma haunting me for combining their services.
Grandma believed the spirits of the dead remained with their body for several days after death until their burial. In Grandma's case, it would be until her interment, which is the same thing. I doubt the cremation would make her spirit leave.
Dave waved as I left with Hal and Ram. He seemed too happy about Grandma's death. I honestly couldn't blame the man for feeling relieved. Grandma lived to open the closed caskets. During the last visitation Grandma attended, I had to frisk her for knives and lock-picking devices. She often stashed those in her bra, using her sagging breasts to conceal them because I wouldn't touch them. The memory made me frown, bringing a tear to my eye. I missed Grandma more than ever.
Hal guided me to the passenger side of my car after Ram scanned it for trackers or bugs. Ram removed a few trackers, photographed the numbers and smashed them beneath his feet. He opened my door and waited until I climbed inside. Remaining professional while on duty, Hal doesn't kiss or touch me inappropriately. "Are we still applying for our marriage license?" Hal asked.
Smiling, I replied, "Yup." I was suddenly worried Hal changed his mind. Perhaps we shouldn't be making a monumental decision while I was grieving.
Recognizing my panicked expression, Hal said, "I haven't changed my mind, Steph. We can wait if you're unsure."
"I'm sure," I replied, pasting on a smile when all I wanted to do was cry. I don't want Hal to think my sadness was in any way caused by applying for a marriage license. Hal smiled as he lifted my hand and pressed his lips against my knuckles. He placed my hand on his muscular thigh and backed the car out of the parking spot. We held hands as he drove us to Ewing Township's records department.
I stared out the window as Hal maneuvered through town, taking a few detours. Looking in the side mirror, I caught the odd glimpse of Morelli's police-issued vehicle trailing us. "Do you see Morelli?" I asked. Why was Joe following us?
"Yes. I shook off Lula," Hal replied. I thought I saw Lula's red firebird tailing us. Hal lost Lula's car when he turned left on a late amber. Lula got trapped by the red light and the vehicle in front of her. Without knowing our destination, Lula couldn't find my car.
"What about Morelli?"
"He's keeping up," Hal answered to my dismay. I found it rather odd that Hal, a man trained to evade a tail, was having trouble shaking off the detective. Only one thought came to mind. My SUV had another tracker. But where did Joe put it?
Fortunately, I had Chief Jansen on speed dial. He connected on the third ring. I shook away my curiosity about why Jansen answered his phone and asked, "Do you have Morelli assigned to surveillance today?"
Chief Jansen's fingers softly clacked against the keyboard. He cleared his throat to reply, "No. He's questioning witnesses on his latest murder case on Stark Street from a few days ago."
"Am I or the Rangeman staff on the suspect list?" I questioned.
Jansen snorted and said, "No." I opened my mouth to ask a follow-up question when Jansen asked, "Is he tailing your vehicle?"
My sense of needing Jansen's help with Morelli overpowered the temptation to give Jansen a smart-ass response. Instead, I replied, "Yes. We've shaken the tail several times, but he caught up again. My guards found trackers on my vehicle and the Rangeman SUV. Ram destroyed them after we collected the serial numbers from the devices. Unless he has an undetectable one or dropped one in my gas tank, I don't know how he keeps finding me."
"Let me check," Jansen said. He cursed under his breath. "You're on North Olden heading to Ewing Township. I'll have the IT department disable the tracker. You're probably right about it being in your gas tank. Don't go home. Drive to Rangeman immediately."
"Yes, sir," I replied. I ended the call and dialled Ranger's phone.
"Yo," he answered on the first ring.
"I have you on speaker and Hal's driving," I said, connecting the call to the car's Bluetooth system.
"Report!" Ranger ordered. That demand was for Hal, not me. I gently squeezed Hal's hand resting on my thigh. He nodded in understanding that I wanted to explain everything to Ranger.
"Morelli is following my car. Hal tried to shake the tail, but he kept catching up. We found some trackers. Ram took pictures of the serial numbers before destroying them. I called Chief Jansen, and he checked the trackers assigned to Morelli. Jansen told me I was driving on North Olden. He ordered me to come to Rangeman. Is there someone who can check my gas tank?" I asked.
"Woody will meet you," Ranger replied. He promptly ended the call without further explanation. I shrugged and returned the phone to my purse. Ranger was a man of few words. He never minced his thoughts; one had to appreciate him getting to the point without telling a complete story to get to his instructions. I, however, enjoyed the bits to create a worthy tale.
Upon our arrival at Rangeman, Hal pressed his fob to open the gate. Ram followed us inside. Once the gate closed, he exited the vehicle and joined the other Merry Men watching the entrance. I rolled my eyes and opened my door.
Ranger pulled me from the seat and hugged me tightly. Lester and Bobby guarded me as Ranger took me to the elevator. I glanced over my shoulder, catching Hal's eye once he looked up from reading the message on his phone. He nodded before gesturing with his chin to go with Ranger. Hal wanted to know where Morelli stashed the tracker. I winked and turned to face the elevator doors.
It opened as we approached, indicating someone from the control room was watching the internal cameras for my arrival. I entered the elevator cart first. Ranger, Bobby and Lester created a human wall, protecting me from view. "This is overkill," I said, annoyed by the trio of muscular backs. I compared their asses, unable to redirect my line of sight. All three men had sexy asses. Ranger's was the best. However, none of their butts compared to Hal's firm glutes. My Naval boyfriend had a nicer backside.
Lester and Bobby snorted. "Hal would be happy to hear that," Lester teased, making me groan from speaking my thoughts aloud. I must stop doing that.
"I can't believe I said that out loud," I whined.
"We find it amusing and rather enjoy hearing your thoughts," Bobby said, glancing over his shoulder to wink at me. My face flushed pink, overheating me in the confined space with the men.
I sighed in relief when the elevator doors opened. Ranger grabbed my left elbow as I stepped from the cart. He guided me to the conference room beside Tank's office. I allowed him to take the lead. Ranger's eyes are hard, not angry with me, but frustrated by Morelli's audacity to track me.
Tank raised a brow as we stormed past his office. Without receiving an order, Tank followed us into the conference room. Hector and Manny were awaiting our arrival. I smiled at the men and turned to glare at Ranger. "Are you sending me to a safe house?" I demanded.
"No," Ranger said, smiling with amusement. I raised my brows in an attempt to have him reveal the purpose of meeting with the core team, Hector and Manny. Hunter, Hal and Ram entered the room as I sat beside Hector. Hal sat on my other side while Ram stood in front of the door. The others, I noticed, sat in their assigned seats.
Ranger gestured at Hector, who jammed the cameras. With a heavily accented voice, Hector said, "I received intel that Joe wants you to marry him."
I snorted, "Please. I won't marry Joseph Morelli. What does he want, my money?" It was absurd for Joe to think I would marry him and risk losing my inheritance.
"He can only receive your money if you acquired it during your marriage. Since you inherited everything during your vacation, anyone you marry has no claim on your current finances unless you add them to your accounts," Hunter replied. He opened his briefcase to remove a document. He slid it across the table for me to sign.
As I read the paperwork, I gasped and raised my eyes. I looked at Hal for an explanation. He nodded and motioned for me to sign. "Are you sure?" I asked.
"What did your grandmother say about not following convention?" Hal questioned.