“Icky?”
“Very,” Michael said. “I was talking about the fact that he didn’t call us after your accident. That should’ve been the first thing he did.”
“Jack was too busy crying after my accident,” Ivy admitted. “He was a mess.”
Michael’s face softened. “Well, everyone is okay,” he said. “How was your trip to Detroit?”
Ivy recounted everything for her father, joining in his disgusted reaction to the mummified body, before finishing up with her worries about Jack. “I think he’s convinced it’s the sister,” she said. “I’ve tried to figure a way around it, but how else does someone not notice when a family member goes missing for a month?”
“Maybe they were on the outs,” Michael suggested. “I know it’s hard to fathom because our family is so tight, but not everyone gets along like we do.”
“Yeah. I guess. Jack said he would call if he gets any news. I’m going to head over and work in the greenhouse if that’s okay. I don’t feel like dealing with people asking a lot of questions.”
“Go nuts,” Michael said. “I’m still talking to Jack next time I see him.”
“I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to verbally spar with you.”
Ivy was almost to the greenhouse – and conversational freedom – when a woman cut off her avenue of approach and shot her a nervous smile. “Um … are you a worker here?”
Despite her agitation, Ivy plastered a welcoming expression on her face. “I am. Can I help you?”
“I’m not sure,” the woman admitted. “I’m looking for a bush for my mother. She’s kind of a homebody and she spends all of her time spying on the neighbors. She thinks they’re out to get her. I was kind of hoping you could point me toward a flowering bush that doesn’t make too much of a mess so I could plant it in front of her window.”
Ivy chuckled. She knew how that went. Her mother was convinced her neighbor was hot for her dad. Ivy was fairly certain that Shirley Deurksen was a lesbian and more interested in Luna than Michael, but she wisely kept that to herself.
“I’m sure I can help you,” Ivy said. “Um … .” She broke off, tapping her chin as she thought. “Come on. I think I have something right up your alley.”
So much for her afternoon of solitude, Ivy thought as she led the woman toward the far end of the nursery. That was one of the hazards of owning a business, though. The customers always came first.
Eighteen
“Can you see me?” Rick looked uncomfortable as he stared at his computer screen.
“I can see you,” Jack replied, sharing an amused look with Brian. “Can you see me?”
“Yes, you’re just as ugly as I remember,” Rick muttered. “Put Ivy on. She’s pretty to look at.”
“Ivy is home resting,” Jack said. “She doesn’t want to Skype with you.”
“I don’t want to Skype with me either,” Brian said. “It’s weird. This is one of those things perverts usually do.”
Jack snickered. “This is my partner Brian Nixon,” he said by way of introduction. “That’s Rick. He’s a complainer.”
“I don’t know why you’re so high and mighty,” Brian shot back. “You’re a complainer, too.”
“Isn’t that the truth?” Rick lamented. “All I ever heard from him was complaints about the lab taking too long … or the computers breaking down … or a witness lying to him.”
Brian smirked. “You’re lucky. All I hear about is Ivy Morgan. I’ve known her since she was a kid. It’s a little disconcerting to see him mooning over her the way he is.”
Jack scowled. “Can we get back to the topic at hand?”
Brian and Rick ignored him.
“I don’t know,” Rick said sagely. “I saw her this morning, all cute with her hair standing on end. I can understand why he’s mooning over her.”
“We all can understand why he’s excited to be with her,” Brian said. “What we can’t understand is why she’s lowering her standards to date him.”
Jack knew they were teasing, but the words irked him. “She happens to think I’m charming and manly.”
“She didn’t think you were so charming forty-eight hours ago, did she?”
Jack faltered. “Can we please get back to the situation at hand?”
“He’s anxious to get back to Ivy,” Brian explained, his eyes twinkling. “He’s taking her pizza and giving her a massage.”
“Wow. You turned into an over-sharer,” Rick mused. “I can’t believe I’m actually seeing it.”
“It’s a Shadow Lake miracle,” Brian taunted, causing Jack to growl. “Okay, to the business at hand before Jack blows an artery … did you come up with anything on your end regarding Janet Simmons’ death?”
“Yes and no,” Rick answered. “We canvassed the neighborhood. The last time anyone saw Janet was at least six weeks ago.”
Jack leaned back in his desk chair and rubbed his neck. “Six weeks? What about the smell?”
“That house was locked up tighter than a drum,” Rick said. “Someone put plastic wrap under the front and back doors to block drafts.”
“Meaning someone knew what they were doing,” Brian said.
“I’m not so sure about that,” Rick hedged. “The coroner is putting Janet’s death around the last few days of May. He says he can’t give me a better estimation because he simply doesn’t know due to the state of the body.
“This mummification thing is new to all of us,” he continued. “The coroner said that whoever put the plastic wrap under the doors and closed up all the windows might not have been planning to mummify Janet. They might have been merely trying to block off the smell.”
“That actually makes more sense,” Jack said. “The smell should’ve overpowered the neighborhood given how close the houses over there are. The killer was trying to buy time.”
“Well, in buying time, the killer also preserved a lot of evidence,” Rick said. “There’s fibers and trace evidence on Janet’s clothing. The clothing is sort of … melted … to her skin,
