Dime Store Magic (Otherworld 3)

"No kidding," I said with a shudder. "After that, I'm a cremation convert."

"Wait a sec," Savannah said. "If they cremated Cary, how are we going to take dirt from his grave?"

"We aren't."

"Lucas can't take it from just anyone," Savannah said. "It has to be from the grave of someone who was murdered."

"What?"

"Uh, didn't I mention that?"

"No."

"Ummm, sorry, guys."

"We have"--I checked the clock--" forty-five minutes to find the grave of someone who was murdered. Great. Just great."

"Pull over again," Cortez said. "We're going to need to give this some thought."

We'd been sitting at the side of the road for nearly ten minutes. Finally I sighed and shook my head.

"I can't even think of the last person who was murdered in East Falls. The Willard girl was killed by a drunk driver before Christmas, but I'm not sure that counts."

"We ought not to take the chance."

I thudded back against the headrest. "Okay, let me think." I bolted upright. "I've got it! The woman in the morgue. The one behind the curtain. Someone shot her. I don't know the story, probably because I've been avoiding the papers, but that's murder, isn't it? Or could it be manslaughter?"

"Premeditated or not, it appears a clear case of homicide, and that will be sufficient. Is she buried in town?"

"Oh, God. I don't know. I didn't recognize her. She probably wasn't from East Falls, but I can't be sure. Shit! Oh, wait. It would say in the local paper, right? If we could get last week's paper--"

"How are we going to do that?" Savannah asked.

"Hold on. Let me think." I paused, then smiled. "Got it. Elena. She's a journalist. She should have resources, right?"

"She'll have access to online newswire services." Cortez passed me his cell phone. "Tell her to search for anything on Katrina Mott."

"Where'd you get the name?" Savannah asked.

"From the notice board outside the funeral home on Monday. There were only two services listed."

"Good memory," I said.

He nodded and turned on the phone for me.

As I'd hoped, Elena hadn't gone to bed yet, though it was past eleven on a weeknight. Not that her social calendar was any busier than mine--she stuck pretty close to home, which was several hours from any late-night city clubs--but she had the advantage of having housemates over the age of thirteen, neither of whom had to get up early for work or school. Plus there was the whole werewolf thing, which often necessitated late nights. When I called, she was outside playing touch football with visiting Pack mates. Rough life, huh?

She took the information and called back within five minutes.

"Katrina Mott," she said. "Died Friday, June fifteenth. Shot to death by her common-law husband during an argument because he--and I quote--'wanted to shut her (obscenity deleted) mouth for good.' Sounds like murder to me. Hope the bastard gets life."

"Life in prison and a lifetime of haunting, if there's any justice in the world. Does it say where she was being buried?"

"Uh ... oh, here. Memorial at East Falls Funeral Parlor followed by interment Tuesday morning at Pleasant View Cemetery."

"The county cemetery. Perfect. Thanks."

"No problem. You sure you don't need help? Nick's here for the weekend. The three of us could come. Clay, Nick, and I. Or is that exactly what you don't need?"