Page 7 of Sinister Red


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“Excuses, excuses.”

“Harlow.”

She glances up at me for a second before returning to her work. “Well, ok, yeah. Blood and brains everywhere, a dead body... I can see where that might make things tricky.”

Another eye roll. “Not to mention that poor little boy and his family, the dozens of motorcycle gang members walking around packing heat, and my father breathing down my neck the entire time I was working.”

“Packing heat?” Harlow looks up at me, blinks, then giggles. “Who even are you right now? One call to Wulven Kings’ territory and you know all the 1950’s gangster lingo?”

“That’swhat you’re choosing to focus on?”

“Right. Tell me more about Snipe.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“And you have the hots for a bad boy. Areally bad, bad boy, since you met him at a crime scene.”

I get up from the desk as I close out the file I was updating on my dad’s computer. “There isn’t much to tell that I haven’t already told you. He was waiting for us outside, we talked a little, then he watched me like a hawk while I worked.”

“Tell me again how you made him blush while you were trying to guess his real name.”

“He didn’t blush…” Well, not really anyway. Kind of? Snipe’s ears went a little pink when I said his name couldn’t be something ugly since he was far from it, but that can’t really be considered blushing, can it?

And to be honest, I doubt a man like Snipe can truly blush anyway. Not that I’d know firsthand, the other night was the first time I had any experience with men like him.

I had a feeling that my dad was in with a rather seedy crowd. Hearing him talk to Mr. Johansson aboutTankorGunnerorBreakeralways had my interest piqued, and after a while I was able to put two and two together. Men with nicknames like those are either in mobs or gangs, and my dorky mortician father has gotten himself mixed up with them.

Then you throw in Captain Withers, who only comes out tocertainscenes, and Judge Abernathy, who is known for hisrehabilitation programsthat aid a specific kind of criminal, and dear old dad is definitely rolling with some heavy hitters.

God, and that scene the other night… I told everyone I could handle it, and I did, but I wasn’t really prepared for it.

Harlow huffs as she changes out the eyeshadow for blush. “If his ears went pink, that’s basically blushing. And if you were able to make that happen, just think about what other parts you could turn red enough to match his hair.”

“What?” I giggle in confusion. “I’m not sure that came out right.”

“His face, Sof.” My best friend ignores my need for clarification. “Make his cheeks red with sweet, flirty words. Make him all flushed when he’s got you pinned up against a wall, kissing your pants off. Then there’s my red lipstick that looks killer on you. You could absolutely leave him red all over with that, starting with a ring around his big, hard— “

“Harlow!” NowI’mblushing. “Jesus, you really are ridiculous.”

“All done.” She ignores me again with a snap of her gum. “Mrs. Liddell here will be the bell of the ball.” Harlow frowns as she looks up at me. “Well, of her funeral, anyway.”

I walk over to the table and look down at the sweet old lady my bestie has been working on for almost two hours, and smile.

Harlow is the mortuary cosmetologist here at Berk Funeral Home and she is hands down the best in El Paso County. I might be a little biased since she’s been my best friend since we were in diapers, but looking at the photo Mr. Liddell gave us sitting next to Ester, it’s a damn good likeness and Harlow knocked it out of the park again.

“She looks great, Har.”

“Thanks.” A genuine smile touches her lips as she pulls off her gloves and pushes her more-strawberry-than-blonde hair behind her ears. “I wanted to make sure Mr. Liddell would be happy with his bride.”

“He will. She looks just like the photo.”

“I’m glad because if I have to watch that adorable little man bawl his eyes out again, I’m going to lose my shit and join him.”

I sigh. “You and me both. That was heartbreaking.”

“Right? And hearing him go on about senior prom and his proposal… God, I almost fell apart.”

“Me too. I have a feeling tomorrow is going to be hard for him. I’m glad I—” The phone on the wall starts to ring and I groan.