“If you stole anything else, Lance, we’ll find out about it,” Decker told him. “So now is the time to tell us everything.”

He lowered his head. “I told her I wasn’t going to pinch any more statues. Too heavy and too risky a venture. So Angeline asked if there was anything else valuable in the cemetery that was smaller and less heavy . . . so I wouldn’t have to take a big risk lugging it around.”

“And you said?”

“God . . .” He shook his head. “I told her there was a meditation room that held cremated ashes in metal urns. Some of the urns looked like genuine silver.”

“You stole people’s remains?” Rina asked.

“No! No, I didn’t. Just the urns!”

“So what did you do with the remains? Dump them on the floor?”

“No! Of course not.” Everyone waited for Terry to continue. “She asked if I could get inside the room. I said the door wasn’t locked, but I wasn’t about to steal remains. That’s bad karma. Instead she told me to take pictures on my phone of the silver urns. Detailed pictures: close-ups. She said it was for a project, but I knew she was lying.”

“But you did it anyway,” Oliver said.

“I sent her the pictures. I figured what she did with them was her own business.”

“And what did she do with them?”

“She copied the urns but used a cheap metal that she painted silver. She even engraved them with the same markings using a dremel tool.” A big sigh. “This took her about six months. When she was done, she cajoled me to go back just one more time.”

A long pause. “So I swapped out the real ones for the cheap ones.”

“This substitution is sounding very familiar.” McAdams showed him a picture on his iPad. “Uh . . . take a look at this marble urn, Lance. Does it look familiar?”

“Maybe it was one of mine, but I couldn’t swear to it.” A pause. “Wow, he’s asking a thousand dollars.”

Oliver said, “What did you two do with the silver urns?”

“On some of them, Angeline was able to polish out the inscription. On the others where the inscription was too deep, she said they were no good on the retail market. So she melted them down for the metal price. But I want you to know that I did transfer the ashes into the cheap urns. So I didn’t steal Uncle Gomer or Aunt Dottie. They’re right where they’re supposed to be . . . just not in a fancy package . . . not that it matters to them.”

His self-serving declaration was met with accusing silence.

Lance blushed. “I’ll reimburse out of my own pocket if you promise no jail time.”

“Kid, right now, that’s the least of your worries,” Oliver said.

“What other items did you steal?” Decker asked.