Page 5 of Mace

After tomorrow’s funeral, we didn’t have any others on the calendar. That could all change with one phone call, however.

“The body is ready. I finished the embalming this morning.”

Dorothy clapped me on the shoulder and smiled. “I can’t tell you how thankful I am that I don’t need to embalm, Imogen. I will deal with the families, flowers, and crazy requests if that means you’re in the dungeon making the bodies look beautiful.”

I rolled my eyes and flipped off the lights in the gathering room. “Does that mean I’m not allowed to take a vacation?”

“Girl, if you get to go on vacation, I am coming with. We’ll make Mr. Brooks plan the funerals, and Merv and Bruce can be his flunkies.”

I shook my head and ran my fingers through my hair. “I think it would be best just to close the place if it comes to Mr. Brooks, Merv, and Bruce doing our jobs.”

“You are right,” Dorothy sighed. “I’m gonna head home, girl. Call me if you need anything.”

I waved her off and moved around the funeral home as I turned off all of the lights. I locked the front door and slipped up the stairs to the right of the entrance.

I kicked off my shoes, unlocked my door, and flipped on the lights.

I was home.

*

Chapter Three

Mace

“This isn’t going to be enough.”

“I’m telling you what happened,” I insisted. “I’m not going down for this douchebag's murder.”

Pam, my lawyer, shook her head. She closed the folder in front of her and took off her glasses. “Yes, you told me what happened after you have been accused of murder, Jonathon. The problem with that is the three people you talk about are you, one is dead, and the other you refuse to name.”

“They would each tell you the same thing I did.”

Pam stood and grabbed her briefcase. “I believe you, but you are running into the problem of a mayor with an axe to grind and a police station in his pocket. They will gun for you unless we can prove to them that Kent was a rapist whom some woman killed in self-defense. You have a few weeks to produce the woman and evidence we will need.”

“Even if I name the person he raped, how will we prove he raped her?” This happened fifteen years ago, and I was expected to produce evidence as if it happened yesterday.

Pam moved to the door of church. “Well, I guess we will cross that bridge if we get there, but I can tell you two of the same stories are better than one. I can only help you if you let me. Give me the woman’s name, and I’ll track her down.”

I shook my head. “I’m not doing that.”

Pam threw up her hand. “Then I don’t know what to tell you, Jonathon. I will try to develop the best defense I can, but I can tell you we will not win with just your side of the story right now.” She walked out of church and left the door open behind her.

I slammed my hand on the table. “Son of a bitch,” I growled.

It had been five days since I had been out on bond, and I was still fucked as ever.

No one would believe what happened unless a fucking miracle happened where Kent came back from the dead or Imogen appeared out of thin air to defend me.

“Your ass is going to jail,” I cackled to the empty room.

Fucked.

Tattoo it on my forehead and lock me up.

I wasn’t going to be able to get out of this.

“Chin up, buttercup.”

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