“A funeral home,” Agatha said.
“Bingo,” Hank said.
“Sweet Dreams Funeral Home,” he and Coil said together.
“That funeral home has been around forever, and they’re the only one for miles,” Agatha said. “But there have been lots of rumors over the years of financial problems.”
“Funeral homes are good fronts for smuggling,” Coil said.
“Let’s pay them a visit,” Hank said. “See what you can find out about the funeral home from public records.”
Agatha was a champion at research, and he knew she’d have the information before he or Coil could even make the attempt.
“It says here that the Sweet Dreams Funeral Home is a hundred-year-old family owned business. Every one of the Hartley men were certified morticians except the current owner, Brad Hartley.”
“Maybe he’s squeamish about the dead,” Hank said.
“Nope,” Coil and Agatha said together.
“Brad’s a playboy,” Agatha said. “I was surprised as heck that he’d even been left the funeral home when his dad died. Brad’s never worked an honest day in his life.”
Coil blew out a breath. “I hate to say it, because Brad and I grew up together, but that’s pretty much the truth. He likes to party and do drugs and spend his parents’ money.”
“Which eventually runs out unless you figure out a way to replace it,” Hank said.
“I can’t see him being involved in smuggling,” Coil said. “He’s an idiot. No way he’s smart enough to pull off something like this.”
“People do all kinds of things when they’re desperate,” Hank said.
Chapter Four
The Sweet Dreams Funeral Home was an ugly brown brick two-story house on the outskirts of town. Agatha’s parents had both been prepared for burial there, and she hadn’t driven by the place since then. It hadn’t changed much other than the landscaping out front.
The front door was unlocked, and they walked into a plush lobby of dark grained wood panel and maroon carpeting. The air conditioner was on full blast, and it was cold enough to have her teeth chattering. Marble stands held floral arrangements along the walls and painted portraits of the Hartley men hung on the right side of two large white doors leading into the chapel.
“Where is everybody?” Hank asked.
“This place never gets less creepy,” Coil said.
“Do you hear that?” Agatha asked. “It sounds like someone is having a disagreement.”
The whispers were hushed, but urgent, and it sounded like several people talking at once. When someone yelled out dead man, Hank and Coil both drew their weapons and held them at the ready.
Agatha stepped behind both of them. There was no need placing herself in danger. She was getting married in two weeks.
The excited chatter grew louder as they approached, and Coil motioned for them to step into a small office while he moved toward the door where the whispers were coming from.
He knocked loudly and said, “Sheriff’s office. You in there, Brad? It’s Coil. Its business hours, and the door was wide open.”
The voices stopped. There was the scrape of what sounded like chairs across the floor and several hissed whispers. She knew Coil had given the reminder of it being business hours so he didn’t have to ask for entry.
“Brad, you’ve got paying customers out here,” Coil said. He looked at Hank and shrugged. They’d eventually all be customers one day.
“Coming in,” Coil said, out of patience. He opened the door and they came face to face with Hank’s sisters.
“Huh,” Patsy said. “Some detective you are. We didn’t think you were ever going to get here.”
“What in the world are you doing here?” Hank bellowed.
Agatha raised her brows. She’d never heard Hank raise his voice. It didn’t matter how harrowing the circumstance, Hank always kept his cool. If the look on Coil’s face was anything to go by, he was just as surprised as Agatha was.
“It’s the next logical place to investigate,” Patsy said. “Hearse. Dead guy. Funeral home. Bing, bang, boom. Of course, we weren’t expecting to find another body.”
“What?” Agatha asked, looking around the room. Sure enough, wedged under a big oak table was a body lying in a pool of blood.
“That’s Brad Hartley,” Coil said, reaching for his radio. “Did y’all call 911?”
“We were going to,” Patsy said. “But then we figured it might be better to call Hank. That’s what we were arguing about.”
“Please tell me you haven’t touched anything,” Coil said.
“Of course not,” Patsy said, insulted.
“Technically, that’s not true,” Hazel said. “We touched the door when we came in, and Brenda straightened that picture frame in the hallway. And Gayle looked in the refrigerator before we saw the body on the floor.”
“I was thirsty,” Gayle said defensively.
Hank closed his eyes and muttered, “For the love of all that’s holy. Everyone get out of this room and into the foyer. Don’t touch anything else.”
Agatha had never seen Hank look so angry, and the vein in his temple bulged. She rubbed her hand across his back and hoped he remembered to breathe at some point before his eyes popped out of their sockets.
“You watch your tone with us, Hank Davidson,” Hazel said, placing her hands on her hips. “You can’t order us around.”
“You see this?” Hank asked, showing her his badge. “When you mess with a crime scene then I can order you wherever I want. And you’re this close to being ordered back to Philadelphia.”
The sisters all gasped in unison.
“You wouldn’t dare,” Brenda squeaked.
“Rude,” Gayle said.
“We raised you better than that,” Betty said.
“Has she changed you so much you don’t even have basic manners anymore?” Hazel asked, narrowing her eyes at Agatha. “I guess that’s what’s to be expected marrying a girl half your age. You should be ashamed of yourself.”
“As much as I appreciate the comment,” Agatha said, her temper held in check because she knew one of them was going to have to be rational so Coil didn’t throw them all in jail, “I’m not half Hank’s age. And I’ve had about enough of the snide comments and rude remarks. We’re very well suited, we love each other, and we’re getting married in two weeks. Whether you’re there or not is up to you. By my definition, family loves each other unconditionally without judgment or reservation. Hank and I have long since passed into adulthood, and you’re welcome here as long as you can abide by our wishes and be respectful. If you feel you can’t, then we’ll understand your absence.”
Four of the five sisters stared at her with their mouths hanging open, but Hazel was glaring daggers into her soul. Agatha’s heart was pounding in her chest, and she might pass out, but she didn’t care. The stress of a wedding and a crime scene was hard enough without family drama, even if she did bring it on herself.
“As much as I appreciate a Jerry Springer interlude,” Coil said, “let’s focus our attention on the victim.”