A Rose From the Dead by Kate Collins Page B

there was no sign of Sybil.
    As we paused at the top of aisle two, trying to decide where to search next, I happened to glance over at the mannequins on display at the funeral outfitters’ booth. To my surprise I saw a black fishnet stocking dangling from the female dummy’s fingers. And that wasn’t all. Someone had removed the mannequin’s navy dress and shoes and replaced them with a zebra-striped wrap dress and black patent spike heels.
    “Marco, look at that mannequin. Isn’t that the outfit Sybil had on today?”
    “Sunshine, I don’t even know what you had on today.”
    “Gee, I feel so flattered.” Walking over to bat the dangling stocking, I said, “Looks like Ross and Jess got Sybil again.”
    Marco gave me a skeptical glance. “How did they get hold of her clothes?”
    “Are you kidding?”
    Over his shoulder I suddenly noticed the pulsing red and blue lights of police cars shining through the windows near the back hallway. “Marco, look.”
    He started jogging toward the back exit. “I’ll check it out. You wait here.”
    Right. I was going to stand here while he was over there where all the excitement was.
    Um, no.

    I slipped off my high heels and hurried after him, not an easy feat in a skirt that’s tight at the knees. As I hobbled down the hallway I could hear men’s voices coming from the storage room, and when I peered inside I saw two young cops from the county sheriff’s department talking to Marco. They were standing on the left side of the room by the last row of caskets, directly in front of one on a low stand, its lid open to reveal a silk lining that had been plumped up and painted to look like big, fluffy clouds. I remembered the entry: It was supposed to be a beach scene, and the casket itself had been filled with several inches of sand. Had someone vandalized it?
    Pausing to put on my shoes, I slipped up behind Marco and ventured a glance around him, then instantly pressed my fingers against my mouth to stifle a horrified gasp. Inside the casket lay Sybil, her glassy, bulging eyes staring up at the ceiling with a terrified expression, her mouth gaping like a fish, and her body nude except for a sexy black lace teddy, with garter straps dangling, stocking free.
    My stomach churned as I gazed down at the ghastly sight. Her shiny funeral makeup was in place but her lipstick had worn off, revealing blue-tinged lips. Her arms were bent at the elbow, with her hands near her shoulders, palms up, as though she were pushing something away from her face. I glanced around for a likely object, like a loose pillow, but all I saw was a big gray tool chest lying on its side behind the casket stand.
    Marco noticed me and instantly drew me away. “Why didn’t you stay in the hallway?”
    I signaled for him to wait as I took a slow, deep breath, hoping the shock would wear off. Unfortunately, it wasn’t happening. “Marco, did you get a look at her face?”
    “I saw it.”
    “Sybil didn’t just crawl into that casket and die.”
    “I know. Come on, Sunshine. Let’s get out of here.”
    I was trembling all over as he led me out of the room. I lurched to the wall and let my back flatten against it, my hands against the hard surface, trying to ground myself. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen a dead body, but it was still a terrible shock.
    “There’s a kitchen next door,” Marco said. “I’ll get you some water.”
    I clasped his wrist. “Was she suffocated? Strangled? Shot?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “The cops didn’t offer an opinion?”
    “No.”
    “ You don’t have an opinion?”
    “I got here two seconds before you did.”
    “Her mouth was open and her lips were blue, Marco. Make a guess.”
    “Why are you snapping at me?”
    Why was I snapping? “I’m sorry. I’m just rattled. I wasn’t prepared to see her…like that.” I took another breath. “Poor Sybil. And what an ironic place to die.”
    He took my hand and rubbed it between his own. “Think of it this