* * * * *
CONSTANTINE STIVA STOOD at the entrance to the viewing room, keeping a close watch on the casket at the far end. Grandma Mazur and Mabel stood at the head of the casket, accepting condolences and making apologies.
'We're real sorry,' Grandma Mazur said to Mrs. Patucci. 'We had to have a closed casket on account of Fred was in the ground two weeks before we found him and the worms had eaten a lot of his face.'
'That's such a shame,' Mrs. Patucci said. 'It takes something away when you can't see the deceased.'
'I feel just like that, too,' Grandma said. 'But Stiva couldn't do nothing with him, and he wouldn't let us leave the lid up.'
Mrs. Patucci turned and looked at Stiva. Stiva gave a small sympathetic nod and smiled.
'That Stiva,' Mrs. Patucci said.
'Yeah, and he's watching us like a hawk,' Grandma told her.
Allen Shempsky had buried Fred in a shallow grave in a little patch of woods across from the pet cemetery on
Fred had been exhumed early Friday morning, the autopsy had been done on Monday, and now it was Wednesday and Fred was having an evening viewing. Mabel seemed to be enjoying herself, and Fred would have been pleased by the crowd he got, so I guess everything turned out okay.
I was at the back of the room, to one side of the door, counting the minutes until I could leave. I was trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, staring down at the carpet, not especially anxious to engage in conversation about Fred or Shempsky.
A pair of motorcycle boots entered my field of vision. They were attached to Levi's-clad legs I knew all too well.
'Hey, Hotstuff,' Morelli said. 'Having fun?'
'Yeah. I love viewings. The Rangers are playing Pittsburgh, but that can't compare to a viewing. Long time, no see.'
'Not since you went into a coma fully dressed in my bedroom.'
'I didn't wake up fully dressed.'
'You noticed.'
I felt my face flush. 'I guess you've been busy.'
'I had to wrap up the case with Treasury. They wanted Vito in Washington, and Vito wanted me to go with him. I just got back this afternoon.'
'I caught Shempsky.'
This brought a smile. 'I heard. Congratulations.'
'I still don't understand why he felt it necessary to kill people. Wasn't he just doing his banker thing by opening accounts for clients?'
'He was supposed to pass the money through to a bank in the Caymans and establish tax-free accounts. The trouble was Shempsky was skimming the skimmers. When Lipinski and Curly panicked and wanted their money, the money wasn't there.'
Shempsky hadn't told me that part. 'Why didn't Shempsky just replace the money?'
'He'd spent it on venture investments that didn't pay off. I think it was just something that got away from him, and it got worse and worse, until it was so bad it was out of control. There were a couple banking irregularities, too. Shempsky knew it was dirty money.'
I felt hot breath on my neck. Morelli looked at the person doing the breathing and gave a grunt of disgust.
It was Bunchy. 'Nice collar, Cutie Pie,' he said.
His hair was cut and clean and his face was freshly shaved. He was wearing a button-down shirt, crewneck sweater, and tan slacks. If it wasn't for the eyebrows I might not have recognized him.
'What are you doing here?' I said. 'I thought the case was over. Don't you go back to Washington now?'
'Not all of Treasury works in Washington. I happen to be a Jersey Treasury guy.' He looked around the room. 'I thought Lula might be here since you two are such good friends.'
I raised an eyebrow. 'Lula?'
'Yeah. Well, you know, she looked like she might be fun.'
'Listen, just because she used to be a hooker—'
He raised his hands. 'Hey, it isn't like that. I just like her, that's all. I think she's okay.'
'So call her.'
'You think I could? I mean, would she hang up on me because of that tire thing?'
I dug a pen out of my bag and wrote Lula's number on the back of Bunchy's hand. 'Take your chances.'
'How about me,' Morelli said when Bunchy left. 'Do I get a number on the back of my hand?'
'You have enough numbers to last you a lifetime.'
'You owe me,' Morelli said.
