Not even a half hour past closing time, the bar portion of Cappy’s was already dark, the parking lot empty of all but a broken down truck that had occupied one corner for so long tall grass poked through the pavement around it.

“We’re too late,” Neena said, yawning. “Have to wait until tomorrow, I guess.”

Jacy shook her head, spun the wheel, and aimed the pink bullet of death toward the back of the tavern. “Milo won’t have gone home yet. They lost their regular dishwasher last week, so he and Miranda have been taking turns putting the place to bed. See, there’s his truck.” She pulled up behind an old Toyota pickup with some of the letters painted out so across the tailgate, it read, YO.

“Okay, I’ll run in and grab her bag. Shouldn’t take long.” I’d already slung the door open and grabbed onto the frame with my good hand. At least this was something I could do for Patrea. Probably the only thing tonight.

The back door opened into the end of the kitchen with deep sinks and the hulking presence of two industrial dishwashers–neither of them running–and a pair of dirty pans waited on the drainboard.

It didn’t occur to me that something was off until I called out for Milo, and he didn’t answer.

When I didn’t see him in the kitchen, I walked through the double doors, flipped on the lights, and strode into the bar proper. A quick check turned up Patrea’s missing bag on a shelf behind the counter. I scribbled a hasty note to say where the bag had gone and that it was in safe hands and propped it up on the register. It wasn’t like Milo to leave the place unattended.

“Everything okay?” I raised my voice slightly and tried again. The utter quiet suddenly felt unnerving. “Milo!”

Dead silence followed as the echo of my call faded away.

“I swear, if you’ve gone and got dead on me, I’ll kill you,” I muttered without thinking of the statement’s absurdity. But the dread settling in the pit of my stomach told a different tale. I’d been down this road enough times before to listen to my gut.

“What’s taking so long?” Jacy popped around the corner, Neena right behind her. “Did you find it?”

I held up the purse. “Right here.”

“Well, let’s get going, then.”

“Not so fast. I found the purse, but I can’t find Milo.”

Jacy’s eyes widened. “He can’t have gone far. Milo wouldn’t leave the door unlocked and take off. He’s not that type of person.”

“I know.” That was what had me worried.

“Milo!” Jacy yelled as if I hadn’t tried that already. More than once. “Where are you?”

“If I had a flashlight,” Neena said, her face going pale. “I could take a look around outside.”

“There’s one in the glove box of the car,” I said. Like me, Jacy always kept a flashlight, a battery wrench, some fuses, and a tire patch kit in her car. Not that I actually thought either of us could patch a tire, mind you. But my father had drilled into us the need for keeping what he considered the basic necessities handy. There was also a first aid kit, a set of jumper cables, and a battery-powered air pump in my trunk. I’d be willing to bet Jacy had the same things stashed somewhere in hers.

“But don’t go out by yourself. If something has happened to Milo, it’s safer if we stick together.”

“Okay.” Neena let out the breath she’d been holding and nodded. “You’re right. Safety in numbers and all that.” Still, she walked around the back of the bar, selected a firmly-corked bottle of wine, and held it by the neck as a weapon. “Shall we?”

Calling out Milo’s name periodically, we wove through the tables and checked the utility closet.

“He’s not in there,” Jacy stated the obvious, her eyes round with worry after returning from one of the restrooms.

“Not in here, either,” Neena popped out of the other.

My gut jumped when we got near the kitchen again, so I wasn’t the least bit surprised to smell the coppery tang of spilled blood when I opened the pantry door. Why hadn’t we looked here first? Instead, we’d wasted precious minutes searching the front of the bar while Milo’s time might have been running out.

“Call Ernie. Tell him I think someone’s dead.” I ordered over my shoulder, then closed the door in Jacy’s face. She didn’t need to see whatever it was I was about to find, and neither did Neena. Neither did I come to that, but it was too late for me now.

Turning away from the door, I moved deeper into the storage area, passing a stack of five-gallon pails of pickles. A single bare bulb barely lit the back of the room and walking into the cool dimness felt like walking into a cave. A pair of legs stuck out past the far side of a shelf loaded with condiments in large cans with brightly colored labels.

“Oh, Milo. What’s happened to you?”

When I rounded the corner to get a good look at his face, I realized it wasn’t Milo at all and let out the breath I’d been holding.

No answer came, and it wouldn’t have mattered where we began our search. With his eyes fixed and staring and a kitchen knife sticking out of his back, I could tell the man who’d yelled at us earlier, the one with the funny name, was already gone.

Or was he?

I mean, he was definitely dead, but the dearly departed don’t always dearly depart. At least not in a timely fashion. The murdered ones preferred to stick around to become a thorn in my side, and Oddjob clearly hadn’t accidentally stabbed himself in the back. Or I didn’t think he had, anyway. It’s not like I solve crimes for a living or anything. Plus, I was trying to look at him without really looking at him, if you know what I mean.

“What’s going on in there?” Jacy pounded on the door I’d locked behind me. “Did you find him? Is Milo okay? Let me in!”

“I did not. I don’t know where Milo is, but I hope he’s okay. Give me a minute.” Preparing myself mentally, I scanned the scene in more depth. Saw the trail of blood suggesting the victim hadn’t died quickly or easily or where I’d found him. He’d crawled some way and tried to leave a clue before succumbing to his injury.

Sirens wailed in the distance as I pulled out my phone and snapped a few photos of the crime scene. I didn’t notice I was shedding them until a tear splashed on my phone. Careful not to contaminate the evidence any more than I had already, I framed a shot of the two X marks on the side of a whiskey crate that this poor man had managed to draw using his own blood. When I was done, I opened the door, went out, and closed it behind me.

“It’s definitely not Milo, but there’s a dead guy in there, all right. Stabbed with a kitchen knife. It looks brutal, and you don’t need to see it. We’ll let Ernie handle things from here.” Unless a ghost shows up, and then I’ll be forced to investigate—I left that part unsaid, but given the look Jacy shot me, she didn’t need to hear those words to know they were true.

Paler than before, Neena stared at me. “I still love you, Ev, but seriously, you’re like a tragedy magnet.”

No kidding.

Jacy brushed past me and yanked on the handle. “Who is it?”

“It’s Jober Peavey from when we were here earlier.” I raised my voice over the din of the sirens getting close enough to be loud and followed her back. So did Neena. “At least, I’m pretty sure it is. I didn’t look that close, and I only saw the guy once from across a crowded room.”

Sober-faced, Jacy stared down at the dead man. “It’s Oddjob, all right,” she confirmed. “Where’s Milo, though?”

“I don’t know. Come on,” I said, grabbing her arm and pulling her away. “Ernie gets cranky when someone disturbs a crime scene.”

“Ernie gets cranky if the Gas-N-Go runs out of breakfast pizza by two in the afternoon. It doesn’t take much to get Ernie cranky.” But Jacy let me guide her out of the storage room and close the door behind us.

“Everly Dupree,” Ernie called as he entered the kitchen through the back door. “I know you’re in here.”

I stepped into sight from around the corner.

“Just because there’s a dead body doesn’t mean it was me who found it,” I said, ignoring the truth of the matter out of pure pettiness.

“When is it ever not you?”

“Jacy called it in. How do you know it wasn’t her?”

“Was it?” He tilted his head and gave me a steely stare.

“No.” I fought off the urge to sulk. This really wasn’t the time. “It was me. He’s in there.”

“Milo Lynch?” Ernie frowned as he made to step past me.

“No,” I turned and led him back to the pantry door. “It’s not Milo.” He followed me inside. “It’s Oddjob Peavey, and before you ask, I have not touched anything. None of us did.”

Being careful not to disturb the position of the man’s body, Ernie did the obligatory check for a pulse.

“Any witnesses? Where’s Milo?”

Poking fun at Ernie was a favorite hobby, but he did the job. I considered him a good cop and a good man even if we annoyed each other on the daily. “I don’t know. The place was deserted when we arrived.”

“Milo’s truck is parked outside.” Ernie straightened from his crouched position next to the body. I didn’t like the speculative look on his face.

“You don’t think he did this, do you?” Jacy hadn’t followed us into the storage room, but that didn’t stop her from listening at the door with Neena. “I’ve known Milo for most of our lives, and I just can’t see it.” She came around the corner, stepped into the pantry, and waved a hand when Ernie began to speak. “I know what you’re going to say: everyone has the capacity for murder given the right circumstances. I think that’s a load of—”

“Jacy,” Neena cut her off. “Let the man do his work.”

“I’m not stopping him, am I?” Jacy rounded on Neena, the stress of the situation bringing out a tendency to snipe at each other in the sisterly fashion they’d developed since opening their shop together. “And speaking of Milo, shouldn’t we be worried about him? I mean, his truck is here, but he’s not. We searched the whole place so we’d know if he was. There’s obviously been a struggle, and if he didn’t kill this guy, then where is he?”

“Even if he did,” Neena ignored Jacy’s killing glance, “Someone ought to be looking for him before he gets away.”

Before Ernie could answer, the demanding tone of a ringing phone split the air, and we all looked at each other to see whose it was.

It wasn’t mine. Both Jacy and Neena shook their heads when I gave them a pointed look, and since Ernie didn’t move, I guessed it wasn’t his. Turning, Jacy locked in on the source of the sound and disappeared from the doorway. Seconds later, the ringing cut off, and I heard her say hello, then hang on.

Then, she was back. “It’s Milo’s wife. This is his phone, and she says he should have been home by now.” She handed the phone to Ernie.

“Ernie Polk,” he began, then cut off, his lips twisting. “Mrs. Lynch, please calm down.”

Why is it that certain people never realize calm down is a phrase that usually has the opposite effect? Frowning, Ernie pulled the phone away from his ear, punched the button to turn on the speaker, and gave us all a chance to hear. It probably didn’t help that the ambulance Ernie had called was just pulling into the parking lot, and the sound of the siren came through the bar loud and clear.

“Mrs. Lynch,” Ernie said again with a sense of futility.

“He’s dead, isn’t he? You tell me right now.” Milo’s wife began to cry with great gusto while Ernie reached up and tugged on his ear.

“We don’t know anything yet, Mrs. Lynch. If you could, please just listen for a moment. We have no reason to believe Milo has come to any harm, but there’s been an incident at Cappy’s. His truck is here, but we are…uh…unable to ascertain his current whereabouts at this time.”

The crying slowed. “Is that fancy speak for you don’t know where he is?”

“That is the situation,” Ernie confirmed. “Can you tell me when you last spoke to your husband, Mrs. Lynch?”

There was a short pause. “He called me right before closing to say he wouldn’t be late, and now, you’re telling me his truck, and his phone are there, but he’s not.” There was no sign of tears in her voice now.

“Well, he’d better have a good excuse when he gets home.” Milo’s wife hung up on Ernie, who stared at the phone for a moment, then handed it back to Jacy as the paramedics entered through the kitchen door.

“In there,” Neena motioned toward the storage room and then stood back to give them room to bring their equipment inside.

“I’ll have to ask you ladies to clear out of this area,” Ernie said, “but don’t leave just yet. I’d like to get your statements while everything that happened is still fresh in your minds.”

One of the paramedics called the time of death, and Neena’s hands shook, so I didn’t argue. “We’ll be out there.” I waved a hand toward the front of the tavern. “Whenever you’re ready.”