“But it’s already preserved now, right? Won’t deteriorate, will it?” Charlie asked.
“It shouldn’t, but I’ve never had a case where I had one sit in water. So, while I want to say it’s okay, I can’t be positive just yet.”
“Right, so the answer really falls into the realm of who knows, I gather.”
“Exactly,” she replied. “What I really want to know is who did this and why.” Looking up at Hanson, she continued. “Did you get anywhere with your inquiries?”
He shook his head. “No, not yet. Your sister doesn’t remember anything on the day that she was at your shop either.”
“No, I’m sure she doesn’t, and I’m not surprised. She usually brings in a pile of her own paperwork and tries to get that done, while she’s holding down the fort at my place.”
“So who is there right now?” Hanson asked her.
“Nobody. My mother was supposed to be, but she bailed on me this morning.”
“Uh-oh. Does that happen often?”
“Yes, in a way it does, but that’s what I have to deal with. I don’t have anybody who comes in as an assistant or anything at this point.”
“Right. It sounds as if you need to get some hired help,” Hanson noted.
“You have to make money before you get hired help,” she explained, with a laugh. She looked down at the beautiful artwork in front of her, and her face softened. “She struggled so hard to fight that cancer,” she murmured, reaching out a hand and gently stroking the beautiful stylized female face. “Her artist really captured the essence of her in this.”
“Do you think that’s why the family wants it preserved?” Charlie asked, coming around to look at it. “It is a woman’s face, after all.”
“It’s not just a woman’s face. It’s her face. It’s a portrait she had done when she was dying, hoping against hope that it wouldn’t be the only thing that was left for people to remember her by. But, when they realized that’s how it would work out, that’s when they started discussions about trying to preserve her artwork. And it’s not a creepy counter-culture memento intended to freak people out. It’s something that her parents can hold dear.”
Charlie shrugged. “I guess that makes more sense than anything I’ve heard up until now.”
She smiled at him. “People will do anything for their loved ones sometimes,” she replied. “It’s our job to understand and to be compassionate enough to see where they’re coming from.”
“Not my job,” Charlie said. “My job is to keep track of the bodies, until they head off to you guys. Beyond that I don’t have anything to do with them.”
She chuckled. “Good enough.” She looked back at Hanson. “Thank you for arranging this. It was very helpful. I’ll wait to hear from you. Just please remember that there is a potential timing issue here.”
He nodded. “I can understand timing issues, but that doesn’t change the fact that my hands are tied sometimes, and certain things are beyond my control.”
“Got it,” she muttered. “In that case, I’ll let the family know. Maybe they can help move things along.”
“And what good will that do?” Hanson asked.
“They’re bigwigs in town, and, since this is clearly a property investigation involving a theft, and we have the stolen property right here in front of us, there’s no valid reason for it not to be returned. But that’s not my problem. That will be up to their legal team.” And, with that, Tasmin stepped back, smiled down at the beautiful tattoo in front of her, and added, “I’m really happy it didn’t sustain any critical damage.” With a glance back up at Charlie, she smiled. “Take good care of it for me, Charlie.” Then she walked toward the door.
“Hey, hang on a minute,” Hanson called out.
She turned and looked back at him. “What?” she asked, as she pushed the door open to step out of the room.
“You’re really comfortable in there, aren’t you?” he asked curiously.
She frowned at him. “Any reason I wouldn’t be? I’ve worked in the industry for a lot of years, so this isn’t exactly a place I’m unfamiliar with.”
He sighed, then nodded. “I did look you up.”
“Oh, that must have been fun,” she quipped, with an eye roll. “All you had to do was ask my sister. She would have given you a mouthful, I’m sure.”
“I did actually. She mentioned something about a breakdown.”
“Right. Don’t you love that simple euphemism for overworked and burned-out? It sure makes everybody happy to have that as an answer, doesn’t it?”
“It certainly made sense to them, I think,” he offered cautiously.
“Yep.”
“But not to you, I suppose.”
“No, not to me. But nobody ever cares to hear what I have to say.”
“What is it that you would say if somebody did care?”
She looked at him in surprise and laughed. “Oh no you don’t. I’ve spent too many years with people like you, black-and-white, nothing in between. I’m not going there. Listen. I have a job to do, and I really can’t afford to start all over again because I say or do something that goes sideways and costs me my business,” she declared. “So, if you’ve got any questions, feel free to ask them, but keep them to the case at hand, please.”
He stared at her, then nodded. “Just because you talk to the dead doesn’t mean that something’s wrong with you. You do know that, right?”
She froze, then slowly turned to look at him. “You would be the only person I know who would say that.” She frowned. “And I can’t imagine why you would.” Her gaze was intense, as she searched his face, seeing something behind the flat black stare. “Unless you’re somebody who sees similar stuff.” And then she laughed. “But, even then, you’d never admit it because none of us can, can we?” she asked almost hysterically. “We’d get crucified for being something completely abnormal to the rest of the world, and that is hard to live with long-term.”
“It is hard to live with,” he agreed, “long-term or short-term. Nothing about it is easy.”
“No, I guess there isn’t, but I did my time. I learned my lesson and all that garbage.” She shook her head. “I’m not going there again.”
“Even though the ghosts talk to you?”
“I’d be a fool to admit they did,” she stated, looking up at him with a smile. “So, this conversation never happened.” With that, she gave him a clipped nod and a wave. “Have a good day.” Then she stepped outside.
Inside the morgue though, she had heard the voices of the dead bodies in there. She stared down at her hands that she had held clenched in fists so tight that her nails had cut into her palms. She didn’t know whether he’d seen it or if he had just guessed, but all those bodies in there, every single one, had sat up and looked at her. Several of them had cried out to her, some pleading, others just delighted that she was there and that she could see them.
Some were terrified and scared because they didn’t know what had happened and were asking for her help, for clarity if nothing else. Her refusal to communicate with them was difficult but necessary, since the last time she had, her whole world had come apart and had changed forever. She couldn’t afford to let that happen again, especially not now that she was finally getting her life back together.