Janet Evanovich - Twelve Sharp

Bernard answered the door in his pajamas and a knit cap. 'Yes?'

I gave him my card and introduced myself.

'I'll be a laughingstock if I go into court,' he said. 'I know people. I do taxes for half the cops. I'll have to take my hat off, and I'll never live it down.'

My eyes went to the knit cap. Eighty degrees out, and he was wearing a knit cap. I looked at the mug shot on his bond agreement. Yow. Torched hair.

'Anything go up in flames besides your hair?' I asked him.

The entire north side of the banquet room. Luckily no one was hurt. Except for the maitre d'. I broke his nose when he threw beer on me. That was before I knew my hair was on fire.'

'It's probably not so bad,' I said. 'Take your hat off. Maybe we can fix it.'

He took his hat off, and I tried not to grimace. He had patches of angry red scalp and tufts of singed hair. And it was all greasy with salve.

'Have you been to a doctor?'

'Yeah,' he said. 'He gave me the salve to put on.'

'You should shave your head. Shaved heads are sexy these days.'

He rolled his eyes up like he was trying to see the top of his head. 'I guess so, but I don't think I can do it myself.'

'Get dressed and we'll go to a hair salon before I take you to court.'

'Okay, but not the one on Hamilton. She's a big busybody. And not the one on Chambers Street. My ex-wife goes there. And I don't want to go to the mall. Everyone looks at you. And it's all women in there. I'd feel funny. Maybe you could find someplace where men get shaved.'

'What's this?' Bernie asked. 'Why are we here?'

'This is the only place I could think of where men regularly get shaved.'

'This is a funeral parlor.'

'Yeah, have you ever seen anyone laid out with a two-day-old beard? No. Everyone's perfectly groomed when they get put in the box. And it's very private. And I just met these guys. They're new here. And they seem nice. And they make their own cookies.'

'It's creepy.'

'Don't be such a whiner. This is what I came up with. Take it or leave it.'

Bernie got out of the Mini and followed me into the funeral home. I walked through the lobby and saw that the office door was open. I could see Dave Nelson at his desk. He was wearing a crisp white dress shirt and navy slacks. He looked up and smiled when I got close.

'We have a problem,' I told him.

'Oh dear. I'm so sorry.'

'Not that kind of problem. Bernie here has had a hair disaster and needs someone to shave his head. I know you guys shave men all the time, so I thought maybe you could help us out.'

Bernie took his hat off, and Dave yelled for his partner. 'Scooter is here somewhere,' Dave said. 'He's wonderful with hair and makeup. He used to work at the Estée Lauder counter at Saks.'

'Estée Lauder,' Bernie said. 'I don't know. That's women's stuff.'

Scooter came up behind us. 'Estée Lauder has a wonderful line just for men. A dab of their eye serum each night would take years off your face,' he said to Bernie. He extended his hand. 'I'm Scooter. I was in the kitchen making cookies for tonight's viewing. I chose snickerdoodles for Mrs Kessman and big-chunk chocolate chip for Mr Stanko. I wanted something masculine for Mr Stanko. He was a truck driver. That's such a guy job, don't you think?'

Bernie shook Scooter's hand, and there was bolt-and-run all over Bernie's face, so I clapped a bracelet on him and attached the other half to my wrist.

'Just a formality,' I said to Bernie. 'Don't give it another thought.'

'Oh dear,' Scooter said. 'Is he a criminal?'

'No,' I told Scooter. 'He's having a bad hair month, and I thought he looked like he was getting cold feet. We were wondering if you could shave his head.'

'Of course I can shave his head,' Scooter said. 'He'll look wonderful. And I have some moisturizer which will be much better than that dreadful grease he's using now. Follow me back to my workroom.'

We crossed the lobby and trailed after Scooter into the new addition to the rambling funeral home. 'We'll use treatment room number two,' Scooter said. 'Number one is occupied.'

Bernie and I peeked into the room. Tilt-top stainless steel grooved table. Slight odor of formaldehyde. Carts filled with instruments best not seen in the light of day.

'This is an embalming room!' Bernie said.

'Isn't it wonderful?' Scooter said. 'State-of-the-art. And it has excellent light. Sit on the little stool by the table, and I'll get my razor. I've gotten used to working on people who are horizontal, so this will be a fun experience.'

'Oh fuck,' Bernie whispered. 'Get me out of here!'

'Chill,' I told him. 'He's going to shave your head, not drain your body fluids. It's not a big deal. And when he's done I bet he'll give you a cookie.'

'I guess congratulations are in order,' I said to Scooter when he got into position behind Bernie. 'Sounds like you've got a full house. Mrs Kessman and Mr Stanko. And a third body in prep.'

'The third body is just a holdover. It's poor Carmen Manoso. They autopsied her and released her, but we can't ship the body until Thursday. I had some free time, so I was trying to get her prettied up a little. Not much you can do to someone who's had their brain surgically removed, not to mention has a big bullet hole in the head, but I did what I could to soften it for her parents in case they open the casket.'

Carmen Manoso! And she was hanging out with nothing to do until Thursday.

'She needs a viewing,' I said to Scooter.

'Excuse me?'

'She's famous. The Burg loves a murder. You won't be able to shoehorn all the mourners in. You'll have to give out tickets like at the bakery.'

'I don't know. I'd have to check with her parents.'

'She doesn't belong to her parents. She belongs to her husband.'

'The murderer?'

'He's still her husband. And I bet he'd want her to have a viewing.'

'Interesting,' Scooter said. 'I'd have to bake a lot of cookies.'

I called Ranger on the special cell phone. 'You're not going to believe this… I'm at the funeral home on Hamilton, and they've got Carmen here.'

'Should I ask what you're doing at the funeral home?'

'No. It's not important. The important thing is, Carmen is here and isn't getting shipped off to Virginia until Thursday And I thought since you're her husband you might want to hold a viewing so her friends and relatives who might be in the area could see her one last time.'

'Gruesome but clever,' Ranger said. 'Let me talk to whoever is in charge.'

I passed the phone over to Scooter.

'Is this Mr Manoso?' Scooter asked. 'The husband of the deceased?'

'Run this by me again,' Lula said. 'You took Bernie Brown to the funeral home to get his head shaved?'

'Yes. And it worked out great. And I checked him in at the courthouse after he got shaved, and he's already bonded out again.'

'And while you were at the funeral home, you ran into Carmen Manoso?'

'Yep. She was passed on to the funeral home for transport back to Virginia. Only they can't do it until Thursday.'

'And while you were there, Ranger called in and arranged for her to have a viewing?'

'He is her husband of record. And as such, he has a right to a viewing.'

'I don't suppose you got to talk to him?'

'Mostly he talked to Scooter. Financial arrangements and everything.'

Connie had been the one to rebond Bernie. She'd gotten back to the office minutes before me and was in the process of repairing a chipped nail. 'I don't usually go to viewings, but I'm going to that one,' she said, adding a fresh coat of fire engine red to her index finger.

Meri Maisonet was on the couch with a stack of files, making notes, not saying anything, but not missing much either. I wasn't sure how I felt about her. She seemed likeable enough, but something was off. Usually people are a little nervous on a new job. They try too hard. Or they try to become background. Meri Maisonet didn't show any of that. She was dressed in running shoes, jeans, and another of the three-button knit shirts. No big hair lacquered with hair spray. Only lip gloss. Not exactly a Jersey girl, but then she hadn't been in Jersey for very long.