Tom watched Cypress head downstairs, presumably to let Fox in, and he clutched at his coffee cup to settle himself down.
Mister Doodles came over to stand by his feet, watching the door warily. She barked again when Cypress and Fox returned, baring her teeth at them.
“Hey, Tom,” Fox greeted, giving him a little wave. He smirked at Mister Doodles. “Guard dog?”
“Man-eater,” Tom replied with a wry smile. “Hey, Fox.”
“Well, I’d ask how you’re doing, but Shirley tells me you’re in a world of shit,” Fox said, sitting down on the recliner and leaning forward. His expression was stern, all business and getting right to the point. “Now, depending on what we hypothetically discuss here, I may advise you to get a lawyer. Okay?”
“Okay.” Tom’s panic was ready to pounce, but then Cypress was right there beside him to keep it at bay with a warm hand on his shoulder.
“Whenever you’re ready,” Fox said, offering a tight smile. “Tell me what’s been going on.”
Tom tried to think about Fox’s nipple rings, hoping it would make this easier if he didn’t look so tough, but now he only felt awkward.
Ugh.
“So, I was seeing a guy at work,” Tom began. “It was Junior, Gerald’s son.”
Fox’s lip twitched.
“And he had gotten into trouble and needed some money. At least, that’s what he told me. He wanted me to get him some of the formaldehyde and sell it for him—”
“Hypothetically,” Cypress cut in quickly.
“Oh, right. Hypothetically. It was only supposed to be one time. Just one. Andhypotheticallyhe kept making me do it even after we broke up and threatened to call the police on me if I didn’t.
“I had to embalm a man yesterday named Mr. Seymour Ross. Uh, the, uh, stabbing victim.” Tom took a deep breath. “He’s the man I sold all the formaldehyde to. He came to the funeral home at least a dozen times. And this watch, this watch he had with him? I swear it’s Junior’s. It has his name engraved on the back, and it looks like the flashy ones he wears.”
Fox’s expression hadn’t changed since Tom had begun talking, and Tom started talking faster. He couldn’t tell if Fox thought he was crazy or if he was sizing him up for a cell.
“Look,” Tom said urgently, “I know it all sounds nuts, but very hypothetically I think Junior might maybe have done it. I mean, you guys think he had something to do with the burglaries, right? And the watch, I can show it to you. I maybe hypothetically borrowed it from work because I was worried Junior might try to steal it back.”
“That’s not necessary,” Fox said with a firm shake of his head. “I can only assume the medical examiners’ office was done with the watch if they released it with Mr. Ross’s body. I will say, hypothetically, there was only a partial print found on it, and we didn’t find a match in the system.”
“Wait, it wasn’t Junior’s?” Tom frowned, glancing at Cypress and back to Fox. “What does that mean?”
“No, it’s definitely his, but no prints does not mean much except Junior hadn’t touched it recently,” Fox replied. “We have his prints from his drug priors to compare. Not a match.”
“Well, fuck.”
“Hypothetically, he is a person of interest in Mr. Ross’s death, but he has an alibi. Not a great one, but it hasn’t cracked yet. We asked him about the watch, he admitted it’s his, but he has no idea how Mr. Ross got it. Claims he lost it.” Fox stroked his mustache. “Did anyone else know what you were doing at the funeral home?”
“No,” Tom replied. “I’m in charge of ordering and inventory for the prep room so I could, uh, cover it up.” He cringed at the confession. “But I swear I’ve stopped. I told Junior I was done, and I didn’t care what happened.”
“Well, I have some good news,” Fox said.
“Really?” Tom brightened.
“I know absolutely nothing about formaldehyde so I have no idea what you could be charged with for selling it,” Fox replied. “Distribution of hazardous chemicals? Maybe there’s a specific state funeral law? It’s not a controlled substance, so I have no idea.”
“I don’t feel any better.” Tom sagged immediately.
“You’re about to feel worse. We hypothetically found some of the stolen items from the families you served in Mr. Ross’s home. The burglaries and his death are connected, and I’m looking for a break to nail Junior’s ass to the wall for all of it.”
“Hypothetically?”
“You need to watch your ass and stay the hell away from him. I’m guessing he knows where you live?”
