Two for the Dough (Stephanie Plum 2)

He smiled and prodded me forward. “The caskets come later.”

I squinted into the corner shadows and realized the caskets weren't flush to the wall. Tucked behind the caskets was a refrigeration unit with two body drawers. The drawers were closed, the metal trays locked behind heavy metal doors.

“Gonna be nice and dark in there,” Kenny said. “Give you time to think.”

Fear slid down my spine and sickened my stomach. “Grandma Mazur . . .”

“Turning into a Popsicle, even as we speak.”

“NO! Let her out! Open the drawer, I'll do whatever you want!”

“You'll do whatever I want anyway,” Kenny said. “You're not going to be moving too fast after an hour in there.”

Tears were pouring down my cheeks and sweat prickled under my arms. “She's old. She's no threat to you. Let her go.”

“No threat? Are you kidding? That old lady is criminally insane. You know what it took to get her in that drawer?”

“She's probably dead by now, anyway,” Spiro said.

Kenny looked at him. “You think so?”

“How long she been in there?”

Kenny checked his watch. “Maybe ten minutes.”

Spiro stuffed his hands into his pockets. “You lower the temperature?”

“No,” Kenny said. “I just shoved her in.”

“We don't keep the drawers cold if they're unoccupied,” Spiro explained. “Saves on electricity. Probably it's only around room temperature.”

“Yeah, but she could have died from fright. What do you think?” Kenny asked me. “You think she's dead?”

A sob stuck in my chest.

“Sweetie pie is speechless,” Kenny said. “Maybe we should open the drawer and see if the old bag's breathing?”

Spiro released the latch and yanked the door open. He grabbed the end of the stainless steel tray and slowly rolled it toward him, so that the first thing I saw was Grandma Mazur's shoes pointing toes up, then Grandma's bony shin, her big blue coat, arms rigidly at her sides, hands hidden under the folds of the coat.

I felt myself sway under a wave of grief. I forced air into my lungs and blinked to clear my vision.

The tray reached its full extension and clicked into place. Grandma stared unflinching at the ceiling, eyes open, mouth set, still as stone.

We all gaped at her in silence for several moments.

Kenny was the first to speak. “She looks dead all right,” he said. “Roll her back in.”

The whisper of a sound stuck in the corner. A hiss. We all pricked our ears and concentrated. I saw the very slightest tightening around Grandma's eye. The hiss again. Louder this time. Grandma sucking air through her dentures!

“Hmmm,” Kenny said. “Maybe she's not dead yet.”

“You should have cranked the unit down,” Spiro offered. “This baby'll go down to zero. She wouldn't have lasted ten minutes if you'd had it at zero.”

Grandma made some feeble movements on the tray.

“What's she doing?” Spiro asked.

“She's trying to sit up,” Kenny said. “But she's too old. Can't get those old bones to cooperate, huh, Granny?”