Casket Case (9 page)

“Mr. Sharpe,” I said as Otis and I sat down, “this is Otis Middleton, one of the owners of Middleton’s Mortuary. He’s also a licensed undertaker and embalmer, so he can answer any questions you have.”

Otis pulled out a clipboard with a planning sheet on top.

“Oh, no,” Mr. Sharpe said. “You won’t need any of that. I just want some information about embalming.”

“What would you like to know?” Otis asked and set the papers and pen on the table.

“Well, first off, so you won’t think I’m some kind of kook with a kinky morbid interest, I want you to know that I’m a taxidermist. I’ve made a good living preserving hunting and fishing trophies around here but it’s slowed down. Last year, I started another business. I got to thinking about years and years ago, somebody made a bunch of money selling ‘pet rocks.’ Remember that?”

“Yes,” Otis said, “I believe I do.”

Dennis Sharpe pulled the cigar out of his mouth and looked at the wet end, then put it back between his lips. “Well, you know Roy Rogers had his horse Trigger preserved and mounted by a taxidermist, and I’ve done some pet dogs and cats. Got to thinking that while some people can’t let their pets go when they die, there’s probably folks around who’d like a pet but either can’t afford or don’t have time to feed and care for one. That’s when I started Carefree Pets.”

“What kind of pets do you sell?” I interrupted.

“Started out mostly dogs and cats, but I found out a lot of people who don’t hunt wanted stuffed wild animals. I don’t mean big ones. Little fellows like squirrels and raccoons, sometimes even possums.”

Otis cut me a look and said, “Mr. Sharpe, I follow what you’re saying, but what does it have to do with embalming?”

“Competition has gotten pretty fierce in the taxidermy business. Lots of folks are having their kills freeze-dried, and I’ve been wondering if embalming might be an alternative. In taxidermy, we stretch the fur over forms, sometimes plastic, sometimes carved from wood. Would it work to just embalm the animals?”

“No.” Otis smiled. “Embalming wouldn’t be suitable. It’s not as permanent as your taxidermy methods.”

“I saw on television that some woman named Eva Perón was perfectly preserved for over twenty years,” Dennis Sharpe said. “Her husband kept her in his dining room even after he remarried.”

“That’s not usual embalming, though. Her body was treated with a much costlier and lengthier method than is used today,” Otis said in the instructor tone he sometimes uses with me. “Mrs. Perón’s body was almost plasticized.”

I couldn’t believe that Otis was actually using the word “body.”

Mr. Sharpe looked disappointed. “Then you don’t think embalming might be able to replace taxidermy?”

“Never.”

“What about freeze-drying?”

“Instead of taxidermy?” Otis asked.

“It’s already doing that. Do you think freeze-drying might replace embalming?”

“I never really thought about it, but from what I’ve read, freeze-drying anything the size of a human would be a very lengthy process.”

“The equipment’s expensive and it does take months, but I was wondering if you might be able to convince people their loved ones would last longer if they were freeze-dried instead of embalmed.”

Otis gave Dennis Sharpe a
What kind of fool are you?
look before he responded. “Why?” Otis asked. “Why would you want to do that? The bereaved don’t want to wait for months to bury their loved ones.”

“If you convinced them to freeze-dry their loved ones, they could take them home with them.”

I’m sure Dennis Sharpe could see my look of disbelief that he’d even suggest such a thing.

“Why would you want us to do that?” Otis asked.

“I was hoping we could go in together to buy the freeze-drying equipment. It’s very expensive, so we could share it.”

Otis sat silently, probably wondering how to get rid of this goofball. “I don’t think so,” he finally said. “Our clients want to see their loved ones embalmed and looking peaceful within a day of death. Besides, no one would want to think of a family member lying up in a freeze-dryer beside a possum or some other roadkill.”

“Oh, I don’t use much roadkill,” Dennis Sharpe quickly said. “The only roadkill I ever use is if it’s absolutely, positively fresh.”

Otis stood, which is his way of dismissing people from the conference table. “Sorry, Mr. Sharpe,” he said. “I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

Dennis Sharpe pulled two business cards from his pocket and handed one to each of us. “If you think of a way we could do business, please call me,” he said.

I walked him to the door.

“You sure are pretty,” he said before he left. I heard “How Great Thou Art” as the front door closed.

I almost bumped into Otis as I turned away from the door. He’d followed me. “That guy’s a kook,” he said. “Does he actually go out there and kill innocent cats and dogs to stuff them?”

Goose bumps rose on my arms, and I said, “I don’t even want to think about it.”

“Yoo-hoo,
is anyone here?” a young female voice called before I’d even reached my workroom. I turned around and faced the front door. Roselle Dawkins and Levi Pinckney stood together by the hall tree. They must have come in right after Dennis Sharpe left. Roselle looked like death warmed over. Ex-cuuze me. I can’t believe I used that expression. Let me edit myself. Roselle looked dreadful. Her hair was tangled and uncombed. She wore a wrinkled blue jumper with a beige cotton shirt and leather sandals.

“Hello, Mrs. Dawkins and Mr. Pinckney,” I said. “Mr. Middleton said you were scheduled for eleven, but I’m sure he’ll see you now. Just follow me to a consultation parlor.”

As we passed the open door to Slumber Room A, Roselle glanced in. She sucked her breath in hard, exhaled loudly, and whispered, “Look, Levi. It’s a child.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I replied. “A little girl.”

“How sad,” Roselle said. “I asked Mel if we could have children, and he said we’d try. I can’t imagine losing a kid.” I couldn’t imagine Dr. Melvin as the father of a newborn.

They followed me into our nicest conference room and sat side by side in two of the overstuffed green velvet chairs surrounding the antique table.

“Please pardon me,” I said, “I’ll call Mr. Middleton.”

“Can’t you help us with the plans?” Levi asked. “You work here, don’t you?”

The smart-aleck side of me wanted to say, “No, I just drive the funeral coach around and always dress in black because I think it’s a good color for me.” Instead, I said, “I work here, but making arrangements isn’t part of my job. That’s usually handled by one of the Middletons.”

I stepped out of the room and saw Otis headed down the hall. “Dr. Melvin’s widow and her brother are here,” I said. He joined them as I stood at the door and asked, “Could I bring anyone coffee or bottled water?”

Odell got this idea that if we offered bottles of water instead of soft drinks, we wouldn’t need to stock a variety. Personally, I thought if we served water, it could be tap on ice in a glass. Even less expensive than bottles. Irrelevant at the moment. Roselle and Levi both agreed coffee would be fine.

When I returned with the silver coffee service, planning sheets and contracts were spread across the table. As I served the coffee, I took a good look at Levi Pinckney. The South isn’t nearly so inbred as Jerry Springer would have folks believe, so tell me why I was jealous of Roselle Dawkins.

Levi said they were siblings, but he’d also said they hadn’t known each other very long. I thought about one of my brothers being concerned enough to move to a strange town to watch out for me if we’d only known each other a few months. My brothers are protective, but they’ve known me my whole life.

My blue eyes turned green again, and I wondered if Levi’s interest in Roselle was anything other than brotherly. That brought a quick consideration of brother-sister romance, and I gagged while fighting down the urge to upchuck all over the papers Otis had on the table for Roselle.

“Mel gave me this not long after we married,” she said and handed a large manila envelope to Otis. She turned toward me. “Callie, this coffee is good,” she said, “but could I have some water, too? I need to take some pills.”

Otis looked through the papers in the envelope, smiled, and said, “There won’t be any problem. Your husband has left you well provided for with insurance naming you the beneficiary and his will making you his sole heir. All I’ll need is for you to sign papers giving Middleton’s an assignment against the policy.”

I went for the water while Otis continued examining the papers. When I returned and handed the bottle to Roselle, Otis was saying, “Here are suggestions for Melvin’s funeral. It’s not written in such a way that it legally binds you, but as a letter telling what he’d like.”

Roselle unscrewed the cap from the bottle of water and set it on the table. She removed a small bottle from her purse and poured almost a handful of capsules and pills into the palm of her hand. She tipped the whole lot of meds into her mouth and chased them down with about half of the water. Then she looked at the paper Otis offered.

“May I see that?” Roselle reached out and accidentally spilled her coffee. I dabbed it up with some of the napkins on the silver tray. Though we use mugs and paper towels in our offices, Otis insists on cloth napkins and Wedgwood china for the bereaved. Silver coffee service and real china, but he gives people water in plastic bottles. Go figure.

“What are all those pills you’re taking?” Levi asked.

“Just Mel’s vitamins and nutritional supplements. He had them all counted out by days, and I figure I need extra strength going through all this.” Roselle’s face crumpled, and tears flowed from her eyes, but after a minute or so, her mouth curved into a smile. “Mel’s done it all for me. Just follow his directions there, a wooden coffin, the church and cemetery he names. All we have to do is set the date and time.”

“We can’t do that until Mr. Dawkins comes back from Charleston,” Otis said, “but we’ll call you as soon as we hear something.”

Roselle turned to Levi and said, “See? I told you I could handle this without your help. Mel took care of everything.
He’s
taking care of me. Why, I’ll even have enough money left from the insurance to buy a condom to lease out.”

Otis raised his eyebrows at me. Levi squirmed and said, “Yes, you may be able to buy a condominium for rental property.” He shot me a look that was half embarrassed and half amused.

“I told you Mel would take care of me. He really loved me.”

Levi squirmed in his chair again and mumbled, “Well, you never know. I’m just trying to act like I think a big brother should.” He patted her hand. “I’m really glad you found me.”

Otis and I walked Roselle and Levi toward the front door after she’d signed everywhere Otis pointed to on the papers. When we reached the door to Slumber Room A, Roselle turned to Otis. “Would it be all right for me to see the little girl?” she asked.

“I don’t see any harm in that,” Otis said and led her to the casket.

Levi and I stayed in the entry hall. “Did you find the right house last night?” I asked.

“Exactly where the lady said it was.”

“How long have you been delivering for this sub place?”

“I’m not the delivery boy. I’m learning the business and since there was no one to deliver that sub, I did it myself.” I really liked his Charleston accent.

“What will you be doing after you learn the business?”

“I worked as a butcher in Charleston in my dad’s meatpacking business, but I’d rather do something that’s more people-oriented. When Dad died, I sold his company and I’m exploring what I want to do. I may open my own sub shop, so I’m getting the feel of it at Nate’s.”

“Where is Nate’s?”

“Here in town. It’s over on Pine Street. Why don’t you come by this evening?”

“You won’t be there, will you? I’d imagine you’ll be with Roselle.”

He looked down. “Can’t you tell she doesn’t want me around? I’m taking her shopping and to the bank, but I’ll be going in to work at six. Her mom and family will be up from Georgia before then. Come on by Nate’s. I’ll treat you to dinner.”

Thank heaven Roselle and Otis joined us and saved me from having to answer. A dinner invitation at a sub shop while my “date” worked the counter wasn’t the best offer I’ve ever had—but I’ve had worse.

“What a Friend We Have in Jesus” sounded as Roselle and her brother left. I went to my office and called Jane to see when she wanted to see the apartment next to mine. She suggested I pick her up about dinnertime and get something to eat after looking at the apartment.

“Sure,” I answered. “There’s a new sub shop in town. We’ll go there.”