“Have a cookie,” I told him. “The night is young.”
“I didn’t see the tongue in the casket,” Grandma said to Marjorie. “I thought they might have put it in a little box or something.”
“Betty Lukach does hair and makeup for the funeral home, and she said in cases like this they usually stuff it into a convenient cavity like you would for a turkey. Of course, she didn’t know about a tongue because that’s so unusual. She was talking mostly about fingers and toes.”
“Makes sense,” Grandma said. “I didn’t get a chance to look in any cavities.”
Diesel was grinning. “Would she really check out the cavities?”
“In a heartbeat,” I said.
Diesel took a couple of cookies and looked around. “I don’t see Oswald. I imagine he’s gone underground. The police and half the country have seen him on the transit security feed.”
Grandma had her big patent leather purse in the crook of her arm, and she was balancing a cup of tea and a small paper plate filled with cookies. Women were swarming around us, and Grandma was getting jostled. Some tea sloshed out of her cup onto her hand, and cookies slid off her paper plate onto the floor.
“What the heck,” Grandma said. “What’s wrong with these people? It’s like they never saw a cookie before.”
“It’s not the cookies,” I said. “It’s Diesel.”
“Okay, I guess I can understand that,” she said. “He’s something to look at.”
I tugged Grandma away from the hostess table, toward the door. “We should go home and check on Mom and Melvin,” I said.
“That’s fine with me,” she said. “They didn’t have any of my favorite cookies anyway.”
Diesel followed us out and led us across the street to his Bronco. It was parked on the sidewalk with two red cones in front of the car and two behind it.
“Where did you get the cones?” I asked him.
“They were marking a pothole in front of the hospital. It was well lit. I didn’t think they were necessary.”
My mother was still ironing when we walked into the kitchen. Melvin was at his computer, making notes in a steno pad.
“You’re home early,” my mom said.
“It was a bust,” Grandma said. “They had the deceased’s mouth clamped shut and there was no sign of the tongue. Then it was so crowded you couldn’t even see who was there. And if that wasn’t enough, I got bumped and spilled my tea and cookies.” Grandma filled the teakettle with water and turned it on. “I’m having a cup of tea and some of that leftover applesauce cake.” She pulled the cake out of the refrigerator. “There’s plenty for everyone, and we got whipped cream for it.”
“Sign me up,” Melvin said.
“Are you making any progress?” I asked him.
“I was able to access some older emails and messages from Mushy2’s computer. I found some embarrassing nude selfies and it looks like there’s another local Baked Potato. Mushy2 and Charlie Q. seemed to know each other. Mushy2 sent messages to Charlie Q. through a different messenger app than the group used.”
“Oswald was able to track down at least three Baked Potatoes and learn who they were and where they live,” I said. “Why can’t we?”
“I suspect he traced us through the secure messenger app service we used. At least we thought it was secure,” Melvin said. “Pretty impressive. And the Baked Potatoes were so privacy oriented that we never shared our real identities. It turned out to work against us because now I can’t warn anyone.”
“Can you send a message to Charlie Q. through Mushy2’s messenger app?” I asked.
“I already tried. Charlie Q has wiped his account and trail clean. I suspect he heard about Mushy2.”
“What do you know about Charlie Q.?”
“Almost nothing except that he’s brilliant. It would be a terrible loss if Oswald got to him. I think some of the Baked Potatoes might have been evil. Charlie, Clark, and I were on the fence. If we did something bad it was for a good reason, and we didn’t take money for it.”
“How did the Baked Potatoes get to be a club?” Grandma asked.
“Shared interests online,” Melvin said. “I’ve been communicating with some of the Baked Potatoes since high school.”
“That’s nice,” Grandma said. “Good for you. It’s important to have friends, even if you don’t know who they are.”