Free Two for the Dough by Janet Evanovich Page B

or not, she’d probably check on Spiro’s locker when we left and discover it was empty.
    “Stiva’s coffins are missing,” I said. “The locker is empty.”
    “That’s impossible! A person can’t just make off with a locker full of caskets. That’s a lot of caskets. They filled the locker from one end to the other!
    “We have trucks coming and going all the time, but I would have known if they were loading caskets!”
    “Locker sixteen is in the back,” I said. “You can’t see it from here. And maybe they didn’t take them all at once.”
    “How did they get in?” she wanted to know. “Was the lock broken?”
    I didn’t know how they got in. The lock wasn’t broken, and Spiro had been emphatic that the key had never left his possession. Of course, that could be a lie.
    “I’d like to see a list of your other renters,” I said. “And it would be helpful if you could think back to trucks in the vicinity of Spiro’s locker. Trucks big enough to haul those caskets.”
    “He’s insured,” she said. “We make everybody take insurance.”
    “He can’t collect on insurance without filing a police report, and at this preliminary stage Mr. Stiva would prefer to keep things quiet.”
    “Tell you the truth I’m not anxious for this to get around, either. Don’t want people thinking our lockers aren’t safe.” She punched up her computer and produced a printout of renters. “These are renters that are on the books right now. When someone vacates we keep them in file for three months and then the computer drops them.”
    Morelli and I scanned the list, but we didn’t recognize any of the names.
    “Do you require identification?” Morelli asked.
    “Driver’s license,” she said. “The insurance company makes us get a photo ID.”
    I folded the printout, tucked it into my pocketbook, and gave Roberta one of my cards with instructions to call should something turn up. As an afterthought I asked her to use her set of master keys and check each locker on the odd possibility that the caskets weren’t taken off the premises.
    When we got back to the Jeep, Morelli and I looked the list over one more time and drew a big zero.
    Roberta hustled out of her office with keys in hand and the portable phone stuffed into her pocket.
    “The great coffin search,” Morelli said, watching her disappear around the end of the first row of lockers. He slouched in his seat. “Doesn’t compute to me. Why would someone choose to steal caskets? They’re big and heavy, and the resale market is limited to nonexistent. People probably have all kinds of things stored here that would be easier to fence. Why steal caskets?”
    “Maybe that’s what they needed. Maybe some down-on-his-luck undertaker took them. Like Mosel. Ever since Stiva opened up his new addition, Mosel has been on a downslide. Maybe Mosel knew Spiro had caskets stashed here, and he tippy-toed in one dark night and swiped them.”
    Morelli looked at me like I was from Mars.
    “Hey, it’s possible,” I said. “Stranger things have happened. I think we should go around to a bunch of viewings and see if anyone’s laid out in one of Spiro’s caskets.”
    “Oh, boy.”
    I shifted my bag higher onto my shoulder. “There was a guy at the viewing last night named Sandeman. Do you know him?”
    “I busted him for possession about two years ago. He got caught in a sweep.”
    “Ranger tells me Sandeman worked with Moogey at the garage. Said he heard Sandeman was there the day Moogey got shot in the knee. I was wondering if you’d talked to him.”
    “No. Not yet. Scully was the investigating officer that day. Sandeman gave him a statement, but it didn’t say much. The shooting took place in the office, and Sandeman was in the garage working on a car at the time. Had an air wrench going and didn’t hear the shot.”
    “Thought maybe I’d see if he had any ideas on Kenny.”
    “Don’t get too close. Sandeman’s a real jerk. Bad temper. Bad