Page 13 of Dirty Liars

I looked at Lily and she was staring at me over the top of her laptop like a deer caught in headlights.

“Everything okay in here?” I asked, brows raised.

She closed her laptop, and stood stretching her neck from side to side. “We’re good. Sheldon’s listening to the soundtrack fromSons of Anarchy. He wants to be prepared for tonight. You ready to start the autopsy?”

“If you can break free,” I said.

She grinned and shoved her laptop and books in an oversized backpack that looked like it weighed more than she did.

Sheldon’s eyes popped open and he jumped when he saw us, his face pale and clammy. His hand was clutched to his heart.

“You startled me,” he yelled, trying to talk over the music blaring in his ears.

I pointed to his earbuds and he jerked them out.

“You okay?” I asked.

“I think I was dreaming,” he said. “And then the bass started pumping and my heart started pounding. Outlaw life is intense.”

“You have everything under control for tonight?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said, wiping the sweat from his upper lip. “Victor is laid out in the blue room and I opened up the connecting doors to the chapel to make more space. He looks good for a guy who got shot in the neck. His mom insisted he wear a turtleneck with his leathers and that we cover his face tattoos with makeup. He’s real presentable.”

“It’ll be great,” I said, not sure if I believed it. “Is the burial still set for Monday?”

“Yes,” he said. “The family wanted a private burial. I think Mrs. Mobley got some pushback from his outlaw brothers, but she’s no pushover herself. They seemed a little scared of her. Just between you and me, I think she was someone’s old lady back in the day.”

“King George County does love family legacy,” I said. “It’s important to pass on the traditions of those who came before us.”

“My mom told me that it’s well known the Hells Angels have a secret support club here,” Sheldon whispered, as if the Hells Angels were listening at the door. “And they’re using this funeral as an excuse to recruit.”

“What’s a support club?” Lily asked.

“It’s like a farm system,” Sheldon said. “Like in baseball.”

“Gotcha,” she said. “Is that a bad thing?”

“Yeah,” Sheldon said, his face pinkening. The more knowledge he was able to share the more animated he became. “It’s real bad. Everyone knows this is Vagos country. They control the entire East Coast, and technically the Hells Angels had to get permission to even be here. There could be a turf war if the Hells Angels aren’t careful and they’ve been recruiting in Virginia, right under the noses of the Vagos.”

“Wow,” I said. “I had no idea.”

“Most people don’t pay attention to the one percenters,” Sheldon said stoically. “They can’t handle the truth.”

“Sheldon, do me a favor,” I said.

His eyes lit with excitement. “Anything.”

“Turn off that music for a little while and give your brain a break. I’m not going to be happy if I come into work Monday and you have a teardrop tattoo and you’re wearing their colors.”

He swallowed hard and nodded, and I could tell he’d been imagining himself doing just that.

“Good luck with the viewing tonight,” I said, and Lily and I escaped the room.

“He needs a keeper,” Lily said.

“He lives with his mother,” I countered.

“Then he needs a wife. That man has no street smarts. It’s almost criminal to let him out on his own.”

---