Hardcore Twenty-Four (Stephanie Plum 24)

Diesel was stretched out on the couch when I walked into the living room.

“And you’re doing what?” I asked him.

“Communicating.”

I stared at him for a long moment. “You’re a strange man.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m special.”

TEN

GRANDMA WAS WAITING at the door when I drove up to my parents’ house. She called goodbye to my mom and trotted out to my Lexus.

“This is going to be something,” she said, buckling in. “I heard they did a real good job at the funeral home, and you can’t hardly see where they attached the head. That’s sort of disappointing, but I guess it’s comforting to the family of the deceased.”

“Mom said no selfies with Emily.”

&nbs

p; “Your mom is a wet blanket. How did she get to be so old?”

“I think it was living with us.”

“I guess someone has to be the adult,” Grandma said. “I’m glad it’s not me. Been there. Done that.”

The lot next to the funeral home was already full when I pulled in, and cars were lined up at the curb for blocks. People were milling around on the sidewalk, waiting for the doors to open.

“This is worse than I thought,” Grandma said. “It’s like the whole state of New Jersey showed up.”

I dropped Grandma in front of the funeral home and went off in search of a place to park. By the time I parked and walked back, the doors were open and everyone was filing into the building. I didn’t see Grandma. No surprise. She would have fought her way to the front of the line and been one of the first inside.

I was content to be one of the last. I hated the crush of mourners, the smell of funeral flowers, and the claustrophobic “Slumber Room” without windows where the recently passed resided and people spoke in hushed voices.

I got a text from Grandma that said she was saving a seat for me in the second row, and I texted back that I preferred to stand.

I maneuvered myself through the lobby and into the Slumber Room, where I plastered myself against the back wall, not far from the door. I could see everyone coming and going, and I was within striking distance if Johnny showed up.

I was dividing my attention between the line that was very slowly moving past Emily, the mob that was trying to squeeze into the room, and Grandma. If Grandma caused a scene and it got back to my mom, I’d be cut off from pineapple upside-down cake for the rest of my life.

The viewing hours were seven o’clock to nine o’clock. At eight o’clock I saw Diesel enter the room. He nodded to me, looked around, and left. He didn’t seem to be interested in Emily, and he didn’t wander over to say hello to me, so I supposed the drop-in might be work related.

My understanding is that Diesel has a job that is a little like mine. He works for a mysterious private organization, and he tracks down organization members who abuse their power. I know nothing beyond this, but I’m pretty sure he doesn’t kill people.

Johnny Chucci’s mother was sitting in the middle of the viewing room. Chucci’s sister, Penny, was with her. I didn’t see any of the Chucci men. Johnny’s brother Earl was my age. We went through school together, but he was never in any of my classes, and we never hung out. The second brother, Little Pinkie, I only knew in passing. His given name is George but everyone calls him Little Pinkie because he has a stump for a little finger on his left hand.

A woman approached the casket, looked down at Emily, and fainted. She was the third woman to faint so far. My guess is that the head hadn’t gone on perfectly.

Grandma abandoned her seat at eight-thirty and made her way to the lobby. This was standard procedure for her at this point in time. Her lady friends would be collecting around the refreshment table. They’d exchange gossip, critique the appearance of the deceased, and stuff cookies into their purses.

I joined Grandma a couple minutes before closing.

“You should have come out earlier,” Grandma said. “All the good cookies are gone.”

“Did you learn anything interesting?”

“A couple people have seen Johnny. Myrna Zuck ran into him at the Italian bakery. He was buying a rye bread. And Florence Minkowski saw him at Cluck-in-a-Bucket. No one knows where he’s staying. I asked the mother and sister about him, and they grabbed the last two Oreos and rushed off.”

Lights dimmed as a signal that the viewing was over.