Polished Off by Barbara Colley

near the urn. Something about the officer near the urn seemed vaguely familiar, but at the moment, Charlotte couldn’t recall where or when she’d seen him before.
    When he finally stood up again, he pulled a radio from his belt, said a few words, then joined the other officer and the two workers. The two officers talked a moment, then the one who had seemed familiar stepped away from the small group and headed toward the house.
    By the time that he knocked at the back door, Charlotte was already there to open it The moment she was face to face with the man, she recalled just why he’d seemed so familiar.
    Charlotte’s mouth went dry as dust and she swallowed hard. Maybe he wouldn’t remember the last time they had met. She’d certainly like to forget it.
    But one look at his expression told her no such luck. He remembered all right. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Ms. LaRue, isn’t it?”
    Charlotte felt her cheeks grow warm, but she nodded. Things could be worse, she figured. At least this time he wasn’t pointing a gun at her like he had been the first time they’d met. “Officer Joe...” Her voice trailed away when she couldn’t recall his last name.
    “Joe Blake, ma’am. And I need to ask you some questions—you and Ms. Dufour.”
    Charlotte moved back and motioned for him to come inside. “She’s in there.” Charlotte pointed toward the doorway leading to the small sitting room where she’d left Patsy. The officer stepped inside and Charlotte closed the door.
    “I’ve called the crime lab unit and the detectives,” he told her. “But I just need to clarify a couple of things before they get here.”
    “Does that mean that the bones are human?”
    “I’m afraid it looks that way, ma’am.”
    “Can you tell if they’re male or female?”
    “That’s something the crime-scene guys will have to determine.”
    Charlotte wasn’t sure just why she’d asked that particular question, and, in fact, she wasn’t sure of much of anything except that she really wanted to go home. She glanced toward the doorway to the room where she’d left Patsy. Surely now that the police were here, they would make sure that Patsy had the proper medical attention if she needed it.
    She took a deep breath. All he can say is no. “Ah, Officer Blake, now that you’re here, may I leave?”
    He shook his head. “I think you know better.”
    Her mouth twisted in annoyance. Yes, she had known better, but it had been worth a try anyway.
    “Now...” As if gathering up all the patience he could muster, he took a deep breath and sighed. “Why don’t you tell me what you know.”
    Charlotte thought about it for a moment, then slowly shook her head. “Not much, I’m afraid. I got here just in time to see the men moving the urn. They lost their grip; it fell and cracked. Then, when they moved it”—she made a vague motion with her hand and shrugged—“the cracked part fell off.”
    “How long has Ms. Dufour had the urn?”
    “I really don’t know,” she answered. “You see, Ms. Dufour uses my maid service, but one of my employees usually cleans for her.”
    “Usually?”
    “She was ill yesterday, so I cleaned in her place. I’m just here today because I accidentally left my vacuum cleaner here yesterday.”
    He stared at her for a moment, then nodded. “You said Ms. Dufour is in there.” He pointed toward the door leading to where she’d left Patsy. Charlotte nodded and led him into the other room. Patsy had moved from the sofa to the same window that Charlotte had been standing at previously. When they entered the room, Patsy turned away from the window and gave a cursory glance at the officer before turning her attention to Charlotte.
    “Patsy, this is Officer Blake,” Charlotte told her.
    The officer inclined his head. “Ms. Dufour, ma’am, I need to ask you a couple of questions.” When Patsy slid her gaze his way, he continued. “How long have you had that urn?”
    “About six months, I