The big glass door of the greenhouse opened, and Pullman walked out to meet them.
‘Man,’ Gino said under his breath. ‘Looks like he lost about fifty pounds.’
‘Hell of a year for him,’ Magozzi said, and then Marty was there, shaking their hands, his expression as sober as ever.
‘Magozzi, Gino, good to see you.’
‘What the hell, Pullman?’ Gino pumped his hand. ‘You take up gardening, or did you join up again and nobody told me?’
Marty blew a long, shaky breath out through puffed cheeks. He looked like he was teetering on the edge of something. ‘The man who was shot was my father-in-law, Gino.’
‘Oh shit.’ Gino’s face fell. ‘He was Hannah’s dad? Oh man, I’m sorry. Shit.’
‘Forget it. You had no way of knowing. Listen, you don’t have much of a scene here.’
Magozzi heard the quaver in his voice, and decided to hold off on the sympathy until the man was strong enough to accept it. ‘So we heard,’ he said, pulling out a pocket notebook and a pen. ‘Anybody else here this morning besides you and the funeral director?’
‘A couple of the employees – I sent them home, but told them to stay put, that you’d be checking in with them before the day was out. I blocked off where Lily said she found Morey with my car, but that’s about the best I could do.’
‘We appreciate it, Marty,’ Magozzi said, wishing he could walk away from this one. Lily Gilbert had lost her daughter one year, her husband the next. Magozzi didn’t know how you survived that kind of double tragedy, and asking her the questions he had to ask suddenly seemed like an appalling act of cruelty. ‘You think your mother-in-law will be able to talk to us?’
Marty managed a half smile. ‘She’s not falling apart, if that’s what you mean. Lily doesn’t do that.’ He glanced toward the main greenhouse. ‘She’s in there. I tried to get her to go to the house – it’s on the back of the lot, behind all the greenhouses – but that’s not about to happen until they take Morey away. ME’s on the way, right?’
Magozzi nodded. ‘He’ll do a little on-site before they move him. I don’t think you want her around for that.’
‘Hell, no, I don’t. But Lily will be wherever she wants to be. That’s just the way she is.’ He sucked air in through his teeth. ‘There’s something else.’
Magozzi and Gino waited quietly.
‘After she got him inside, she washed him. Shaved him. Changed his clothes. He’s lying in there on one of the plant tables all decked out in his funeral suit.’
Gino closed his eyes briefly, trying to hold his temper in check. ‘That’s not good, Marty.’
‘Tell me about it.’
‘I mean, her son-in-law was a cop. She had to know she was destroying evidence.’
‘She’s damn near blind, Gino. Can’t even get a driver’s license anymore. Says she never saw any blood. I’m guessing the rain washed it away before she got out here. He caught it in the head, small caliber right behind the left temple, and he’s got this great head of thick white hair . . . hell, even I had to look for it and I knew it was there.’
‘Okay.’ Gino nodded, letting it go for the moment.
Magozzi made a note to have the crime-scene techs collect the clothes the dead man had been wearing when he was shot. ‘Anything you can think of that might help us out here?’ he asked.
Marty’s laugh was short and bitter. ‘You mean like who’d want to kill him? Sure. Look for somebody who’d pop Mother Teresa. He was a good man, Magozzi. Maybe even a great one.’
The air in the greenhouse was hot and swampy, laden with the scent of wet earth and vegetation. Long tables filled with plants were lined up in two rows, leaving a narrow central aisle – it looked like every other greenhouse Magozzi’d ever been in, except for the front table, which held a corpse in a black suit instead of potted flowers.
Even dead and laid out for viewing, Morey Gilbert was still a formidable presence. Very tall, very well-muscled, and better dressed than Magozzi had ever been in his life.
Two young bike cops fidgeted near the body, trying to pretend it wasn’t there.
‘Where are they?’ Marty asked them.
‘Your mother-in-law took the old gentleman back there, sir.’ One of the bike patrols tipped his head toward a door in the back wall.
‘What’s back there, Marty?’ Magozzi asked.
‘The potting shed, a couple more greenhouses. Lily probably wanted Sol out of here for a while. He was pretty shook up.’
‘Sol?’
‘He’s the funeral director who called it in, but he was also Morey’s best friend. This is a tough one for him. Hang on, I’ll get them.’
Gino waited until Marty was out of earshot before whispering to Magozzi. ‘Her husband is dead, and she’s consoling the funeral director? That’s a little ass-backwards, isn’t it?’
Magozzi shrugged. ‘Maybe that’s how she holds it together, by taking care of other people.’
‘Maybe. Or maybe she didn’t like her husband very much.’
They walked over to the front table to take a closer look at the dead man before the family came back. Gino used a pen to lift the white hair, exposing the bullet hole. ‘Tiny. I suppose you could miss it if you were half blind, but I don’t know.’ He looked up at the bike patrols. ‘You guys can take off now if you want. We got it covered. Send copies of your reports up to Homicide.’
‘Yes, sir, thank you.’
Magozzi was looking at Morey Gilbert’s face, seeing a person instead of a corpse, starting to form the kind of bond that always linked him to victims. ‘He’s got a nice face, Gino. And he was eighty-four, still running his own business, taking care of his family. Who’d want to kill an old man like this?’
Gino shrugged. ‘Maybe an old woman.’
‘You’re just pissed because she moved the body.’
‘I’m suspicious because she moved the body. I’m pissed because you made me come here in short pants.’
They both took a step away from the table when the back door opened and Marty came through with his little geriatric entourage, led by a tiny, wiry old woman with silver hair cropped close to her head. She wore a long-sleeved white blouse under child-sized bib overalls, and thick glasses magnified her dark eyes, making her look a little like Yoda.
A tough Yoda, Magozzi decided as she drew closer. There was no sign that she’d been crying, no surrender to despair, or to age, for that matter, in the straight backbone or squared shoulders. She was barely five feet and probably never saw ninety on a bathroom scale, but she looked like she could roll over Cleveland.
The elderly man who followed in her wake was a different story. Grief was weighing him down, pulling at his puffy, red eyes and a mouth that trembled.
Magozzi thought it was interesting that Marty reached out as if to touch the old woman’s arm, but pulled back at the last minute. Apparently not a touchy-feely relationship. ‘Detectives Magozzi and Rolseth, this is my mother-in-law, Lily Gilbert, and this is Sol Biederman.’
Lily Gilbert stepped up to the table and laid a hand on her dead husband’s chest. ‘And this is Morey,’ she said, frowning at Marty as if he’d been rude to exclude his father-in-law from the introductions, simply because he was dead.
‘Marty tells us your husband was a wonderful man, Mrs Gilbert,’ Magozzi said. ‘I can’t imagine what a terrible loss this must be for your family. And for you, too, Mr Biederman,’ he added, because tears were running freely down the old man’s face now.