Free A Rose From the Dead by Kate Collins

whispered to me.
    “Oh, yeah.”
    “Sean,” Marco said, and motioned for Reilly to step out of Angelique’s earshot, as I tagged along. “Look, if it will help move things along, I’ll sit in on the interview.”
    Reilly lifted his hat to scratch his head. “I know you’ve got the experience, Marco, but it’s not something we normally allow. And if brass gets wind of it…”
    “Sean, it won’t be a problem. I’ll be there for support, and that’s the extent of my involvement. You know I can keep my mouth shut. But if you don’t want to chance it, that’s fine with me. I’m ready to go home. How about you, Sunshine?”
    Before I could reply, Reilly said, “Hold on a second,” and signaled for the other cop to join the huddle.
    While the three guys conferred, I took the opportunity to get another look at the body. Since the whole back row was now officially off limits, the best I could do was to stand between the harmonica casket and the miniature jet plane and lean over the yellow tape. Fortunately, the casket holding Sybil’s corpse sat on a low enough stand to give me a good view from that distance.
    Don’t look at her eyes. I focused on Sybil’s long mane of hair instead, then her ears, nose, and mouth, down her neck, over her body, and up again. I couldn’t see any signs of blood, wounds, or purplish marks on her throat that might have indicated strangulation, but by the way her mouth was positioned, it was obvious that she had been gasping for air when she died. She was lying on a good three inches of sand, and the silk lining inside the casket lid had been stuffed so full that, when shut, it would probably have pressed against her face, further terrifying her.
    A hard shudder rippled through me as I imagined her struggling to get out, crying for help even as she fought to draw a breath. Meanwhile, in the exhibition hall, the Urban twins had been dressing the dummy and having a good laugh. I couldn’t fathom why they had put a heavy object on the lid. Leaving her naked in the storage room, her clothing on the mannequin in the hall for everyone to see, would have been embarrassing enough. Didn’t they realize she would run out of air?
    My fists tightened in outrage. This was one prank the Urbans would not get away with.
    “All right, ma’am,” Reilly said to Angelique as I rejoined them. “Mr. Salvare will accompany you, but he’s not allowed to advise you in any way. Do you understand?”
    At her nod, Marco and one of the cops helped her up, each one taking an arm. But before they could usher her into the hallway, she broke free and twisted around for another look at the casket where Sybil’s body lay.
    “Let’s go, ma’am,” the young cop said to her.
    She had something soft balled in her palm and quickly tossed it high into the air. As the ball fell to the ground, it unfurled into Sybil’s black fishnet stocking. “Roses are red and violets are blue,” she called, as Marco and the cop took a firmer hold of her arms. “Find the petals and a killer, too.”
    Reilly watched the three of them go, then said to me, “What was that about?”
    “Sounds like a new twist on an old poem.” A thought suddenly occurred to me. I hurried to the back row to lean between the two caskets for another look at the corpse. “Sybil had a red rose in her hair today, Reilly, but now it’s gone. That’s what Angelique meant. She must think that whomever Sybil met here took it.”
    “Couldn’t she have just said, ‘The rose is missing’?”
    “You’re lucky she didn’t say it in musical terms. I wonder if she has an inkling as to whom Sybil met.”
    As Reilly jotted more info in his notepad, I glanced toward the empty doorway. “May I go sit in on the interview?”
    “Not on your life. I’m already bending the rules for Marco. Besides, I’ve got something better for you to do.” He pointed to the doorway. “Go home.”
    “But I have questions for Angelique.”
    “I think we can handle the