I placed both my hands on his face. “That’s not possible.”

After slipping on a sad smile, he said, “I’ll lose you forever,” then turned and went back to the kitchen to work on our lunch.

I couldn’t ever remember seeing him that sad. What did he know, and what secret did he think I was keeping from him?

Since there were no tables in the bar, Reyes and I ended up eating in the kitchen in silence. He knew I’d been lying earlier, but he’d also been talking about some secret I was keeping since yesterday. What happened yesterday that made him think I had some huge secret I was keeping from him?

I shook my aching head, befuddled.

“Where to now?” he asked, taking my salad bowl.

“I have to make a quick stop at the Sunset Cemetery and check on a grave there.”

“I’ll be ready in five.”

I hurried to my office to get cleaned up after lunch and to check in with Cook. She’d already found Bumpy Navarra’s whereabouts. Lo and behold, they were right smack in the heart of Albuquerque. He owned a series of strip malls and had a management office on Menaul, though I couldn’t imagine he kept many hours there. She also had a home address and an address where he had most of his mail sent. It was another business address with no business name attached. Interesting.

“Great,” I said to Cook. “Now I just have to figure out how to ditch my affianced and go talk to him.”

Cookie whirled around from her computer monitor. The movement was very silver screen dramatic. “You’re kidding, right? After what happened last time?”

“I know. Effing hellhounds. They’re really effing up my plans for a long and prosperous life.”

“Why are you using the fake F-word?”

“I don’t want to use the real F-word in front of Beep.” I decided to be just as melodramatic and turned in a huff to leave, but the door to my office was slightly ajar and I ran into it face-first. “Fuck,” I said, holding Barbara as she absorbed the brunt of the injury. “And now I said f**k. Son of a f**king bitch. I’m going to be the worst mom ever.”

I met Reyes at Misery, still holding on to Barbara for dear life. When he raised his brows in question, I scowled at him. He didn’t ask. Smart boy.

On the way over to Sunset Cemetery, I took out my phone and dialed Ubie. He’d been called away before I got a chance to talk to him at the bar.

“Hey, pumpkin, what’s up?” he asked, but he seemed distracted. Possibly even a little distressed.

“I don’t understand, Uncle Bob. If someone did this to them, why take the body? I mean, why not kill the person and pretend they committed suicide?”

“Suicide is a lot harder to fake than people think. Could be that whoever is doing this is worried the medical examiner will figure it out.”

“Then why even have a suicide note at all? It makes the whole thing even more suspicious and bizarre.”

“Maybe they were hoping we would just give up once we couldn’t find a body. Maybe they thought the note would be enough.”

“I don’t think so,” I said, thinking – not the safest thing for me to do. “I have a theory.”

That seemed to intrigue him. “Shoot.”

“I think that this is very personal for the assailant. I think that whoever is doing this is making a statement. He wants people to know that the person who supposedly wrote the suicide note did not deserve the life they’d been given.”

“You’re getting pretty good at this stuff.”

I deflated. “You already knew that.”

“It’s one of several working theories. But you’re definitely on the right track. This is very personal, and whatever these people have in common will lead us to a suspect. I’m certain of it.”

“Okay, well, let me know what you find out.”

“Will do. You do the same. See you tonight.”

I disconnected the call and turned into the cemetery. The Sunset Cemetery may be marinating in death, but it was not the local hangout for the departed. On the contrary. Most dead people had little reason to hang out in such a lifeless, depressing place. A simple fact that explained beautifully why I liked cemeteries so much. Not many live people. Not many dead people. Even as a child, I preferred the morbid atmosphere of an ancient burial ground over the lovely grasses of parks. People rarely died at cemeteries. Parks, on the other hand, seemed a magnet for mayhem. And the murders that happened in parks were almost always particularly brutal, as if evil fed on the innocent intentions found there. Thus, cemeteries were one of my favorite places on earth.

The girl from the shower, Lacey Banks, was standing by her grave, and she waved me over when she saw me. “You came!” she said as I stepped out of Misery.

“Of course I did. This is you?” I asked her, but she’d spotted Reyes, and her jaw fell open.

He walked a few feet from the Jeep to survey the landscape.

“Lacey?” I said, waving a hand in front of her face.

She snapped back to me. “Sorry, it’s just, he’s very – He’s so —”

“I know. This is you?” I repeated.

“Oh, yeah. Home sweet home.”

I poked around a bit before stating the obvious. “The site is completely intact. There’s no sign of disturbance. What makes you think your body is no longer here?”

“Because my coffin is empty.”

“What?” Her statement caught me off guard. Not sure why. “You can see into your coffin?”