“Great, thanks,” Hanson muttered. “Hell, you never know. Maybe your disturbed grave is part of my case.”
At that, they gave him shared solemn looks and shook their heads. “It better not be.”
“I know, right? And we’re not even living in New Orleans.”
“You used to work there, didn’t you?”
“I did, and sometimes I think I should go back.”
They nodded. “If you want to, whatever.”
That just reinforced the idea that Hanson wasn’t welcome here or in New Orleans either. But then Hanson shouldn’t be upset by that; it had been a long time since he’d felt welcome anywhere.
Ignoring them, he headed back to his desk and sat down to see what else he could dredge up on this case. Chances were, there wouldn’t be anything, not until he saw her at the morgue tomorrow morning. He double-checked to make sure that was set up, and it was, so it was good to go.
With that, he headed back to his email and the never-ending work in front of him.
Chapter 3
The next morning Tasmin headed to the shop. Her mother had agreed to step in and would be a warm body in the front, if anybody came in while Tasmin was gone. Otherwise she would have to just leave it closed, with a sign saying she would be back in a bit. But, as long as her mother was still prepared to come, Tasmin would leave as soon as her mother appeared. Tasmin was ready to head out and impatiently waited for her mother to arrive, when Tasmin’s phone rang.
With a sinking heart, Tasmin answered and guessed, “You can’t come, I suppose.”
“I can’t. I’m so sorry,” her mother confirmed. “We’re just swamped here.”
“That’s fine. I’ll just put a notice on the door,” she muttered. Not giving her mother a chance to say more, Tasmin quickly put up a sign and added, “I have to go,” and hung up.
It would have been nice if her mother had said something earlier, when Tasmin still had a chance to get out on time. Now she would be late for the morgue too. That didn’t bother her nearly as much as knowing that she had to see this Hanson guy again.
As she walked toward the hospital and headed to the morgue area, she looked up to see Charlie, who smiled at her.
“Now there’s a person I haven’t seen in a long time.”
She smiled at him. “How’re you doing, Charlie?”
“I’m doing fine,” he replied, smacking her gently on the shoulder. “I thought you weren’t in the business anymore.”
“Oh, I am, just not with my family full-time. I still work a lot of evenings for them.”
He nodded. “I guess ever since …”
“Yeah, ever since I went bonkers, things have been a little dicey.” And then she laughed. “Of course I haven’t gone bonkers. That’s just the gossip.”
“I know. It’s just so weird, and I’ve heard so many strange things.”
“Yeah, apparently I started talking in tongues or something.”
“I don’t know, but sometimes I think they all made it up. Never underestimate what overwork can do to you though,” he noted, his tone serious.
“I’ve definitely been working too hard,” she admitted, with a laugh. “I’ve got an appointment here in regard to the piece found in the fountain.”
“Oh, right.” He looked down at his schedule and nodded. “I do have you down here. Funny, I didn’t think it was you who was coming.” He frowned at her. “Are you really preserving these?”
She nodded. “I’m preserving tattoos for family members who want to keep them as memories.” When he shuddered delicately, she smiled. “It’s not for everybody, but you know what it’s like when you have loved ones and their peculiar requests.”
“Sure, but you would think that would be a one-off deal, not a case of everybody wanting it to the point that you have a business for it.”
“I planned to just add it to the business with the funeral home, but my father was against that idea.”
“Yeah, no wonder. Big John is quite a force on his own. Can’t say I’m surprised.”
“He is, indeed. So, can I see the piece?”
“Yeah, I’ve got a note here though that I’m supposed to wait for the detective.”
“That’s fine, as long as the detective gets here soon. I’m running very short on time.” She looked at her watch, just as the door opened behind her, and she knew—without even looking—that it would be him.
“Oh good, you’re on time,” Hanson noted behind her.
“I am.” She turned to look at him. “Too bad you aren’t.” He glared at that, and she smiled suddenly.
“Come on. I’m only a moment late,” Hanson pointed out. “You can’t possibly get me in trouble for that.”
“I wasn’t planning on getting you into trouble for anything. You’ve been out of school for a while now.”
“And yet somehow it seems like yesterday.”
Surprised, she watched him as he nodded at Charlie.
“Hey, Charlie, can we take a look?”
“Absolutely.” Charlie walked over to the drawer, pulled it out, and lifted a cloth off the piece lying there.
She walked over and studied it, then nodded. “Do you mind if I touch it?” she asked, looking up at Charlie.
“You do you. You’re the one who preserved this skin. I understand you wanted to assess the damage.”
“Yes, and, while it’s definitely damaged, I’m not sure it’s damaged to the extent that I need to be worried about it.” She picked up the piece, noting how supple it was, checking to see if she saw any actual disfiguration on the tattoo itself. “It seems there was no damage to the design. That’s a huge relief.”
“It’s still weird to think that somebody would want this preserved,” Charlie added.
“Not really. If you set aside that aspect and just look at it, you can appreciate that it’s an absolutely gorgeous piece of artwork.”
“Sure, it’s artwork,” Charlie muttered, “but it’s on somebody’s body.”
“It was on somebody’s body, but that somebody is no longer with us,” she murmured softly.
He didn’t say anything more, but she sensed his curiosity and the very thinly veiled disapproval. Charlie was normally fairly open-minded, but, as she’d come to find out, this subject brought people to two very different sides of the divide, often with surprising results.
She checked it over once more, looked up at Charlie, and asked, “When can I have it back?”
He frowned and shook his head. “I don’t know.” He looked over at Hanson. “What about you? Do you still need it?”
“I don’t need it,” Hanson stated, “but we do need to have it well documented, since it is part of a theft.”
“However, we do have rightful property owners who have the paperwork to claim it,” she added, turning to look back at him.
“Let me talk to the coroner and see what he’s got to say about it,” Charlie said.
She nodded. “I can give you until tomorrow, but I really need it after that in order to continue with the process.”