If the Coffin Fits

by Lillian Bell

  Something about the way she was asking made me uneasy. When I got home, I’d go through her computer files. “No. Anything else you can tell me that would be good to have in her obituary?” I asked.

  Brandie smiled. “Say that Violet was always interested in what was going on around her.” Then her face fell a little bit. “And she was always trying to figure out how to be a part of it.”

  *

  I’d only barely gotten settled at my desk when the doorbell rang again. I jogged down the steps and opened the door to a woman wearing what I could only describe as a power pantsuit. Conservative. Understated. It did nothing to hide her curves, which were impressive. Better even than Jasmine’s and that’s saying something. Somehow the suit conveyed all business, though. Her dark hair was pulled back in a sleek, but no-nonsense ponytail and she had on thick black-framed glasses. If this was a movie, she’d be the one to jump on the furniture, shake out her hair, and start dancing. The hot girl that no one knew was hot. The naughty librarian just waiting to have her books checked out, if you know what I mean. “May I help you?” I asked.

  “Do you work here?” she asked, her tone brusque.

  “Yes. I’m Desiree Turner.”

  She sniffed and adjusted her glasses. “Ah. Family member, then.” She made a note on a clipboard. “Your role here?”

  I crossed my arms and leaned against the doorframe. I didn’t take particularly kindly to people asking me a lot of questions without saying who they were. I’d done it to quite a few people and I knew how that situation could turn on a person. “And you are?” I asked.

  She gave a disgusted sigh and pulled a card from her suit pocket. “Zenia Morrow. I’m with the Department of Consumer Affairs. Cemetery and Funeral Bureau.”

  Uh-oh. I straightened up. The Department of Consumer Affairs oversees funeral homes in California. I didn’t remember Donna saying we were having an inspection. Maybe this was a surprise spot check. “Please, come in.”

  I stepped aside and she brushed past, stopping in the entryway and looking around. I looked around with her. There’s nothing like knowing you’re being inspected to make you look at your own place—not to mention the jeans and cotton jersey top I was wearing—with different eyes. Was that a cobweb up by the chandelier? I hoped not.

  As she stalked into the Magnolia Room, head darting like a small bird, I pulled out my phone and texted “911” to both Donna and Uncle Joey. Then I texted “Inspector.” I slid my phone back in my pocket.

  “Is there something specific you’d like to see?” I asked, walking up beside her where she stood at the cabinet where we keep our sound system. Were there regulations about those? I didn’t remember any.

  She turned back to me, her head at that funny little angle that made her seem a little avian. “You said you’re Desiree?”

  I nodded. I was pretty sure I wasn’t getting that wrong.

  “You work here as an assistant funeral director?” she asked.

  I nodded again.

  “Well, there’s been a complaint.”

  “A complaint? Against me?” I squeaked.

  Donna appeared from upstairs and Uncle Joey from downstairs as I said it. Uncle Joey froze. “Zenia?” he said.

  She turned to him. “Hello, Joseph.” Her face looked calm, but her voice wobbled a little and it sounded a little husky. Where had I put that cough drop that I’d found? Maybe Zenia could use it.

  I looked back and forth between them. Something was going on there. I wasn’t sure what. I looked over at Donna. Her lips were pressed together in a tight line and her hand rested on her bulging stomach.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked, stepping toward her.

  She pulled herself up even straighter. “I’m an inspector now. There’s been a complaint. Someone claims they weren’t given the full price sheet.”

  I shook my head. “I’m sure I’ve given everyone the full price sheet. We make up the packets beforehand. Donna double-checks every one.” And if it was double-checked by Donna, it was right.

  She turned toward me. Her blue eyes were unsettlingly bright. “Did you keep copies? With signatures?”

  I nodded. “Always.”

  “May I see them?” She sounded impatient as if we’d been keeping her waiting.

  Uncle Joey gestured for her to follow him to the basement office. Donna sidled over to me. “Where’s Orion?”

  “Back porch. Sleeping.” Puppies apparently slept nearly as much as babies, which made sense when you thought about.

  “Thank goodness.” Donna brushed her back from her forehead.

  “Is he against the rules?”

  “Not in the living quarters. Probably should keep him out of the office, though.” She cocked her head and gave me a hard look. “You’re looking for a home for him, right?”

  “Of course.” No need to show my hand yet. I scampered upstairs to make sure Orion would stay put, while Donna followed Zenia and Joseph down to the basement. Orion was still asleep, dozing in the morning sun. I left a rawhide chew next to him and took the stairs two at a time to the basement.

  I stopped at the bottom step. Uncle Joey had set Zenia up at one of the long tables in the office with a stack of files in front of her. He looked up as I came to a stop and winked at me. A sign it was going to be okay. I felt air flowing back into my lungs. I tried to relax. I so hoped I hadn’t screwed up. I’d screwed up so much in my life, I didn’t want to screw things up in anybody else’s life. I really didn’t want to have performed the assistant funeral director version of a hot mic oops.

  “I’ll need to go through all the files for the past month,” Zenia said. “It will take some time.”

  “Can I get you something to drink?” I offered. “Water? Coffee?”

  She turned those bright blue eyes on me again and I felt my heart beat faster. If she was birdlike, it was because she was like a bird of prey. “No thank you.”

  Uncle Joey made a little shooing motion to Donna and me and we took the hint and went upstairs.

  “Who is she?” I asked. “How does Uncle Joey know her?”

  “Zenia used to have her own funeral home over in Santa Linda,” Donna said as she pulled herself up the stairs.

  Santa Linda was basically one county over from Pluma Vista. Close, but not too close. Uncle Joey would know anyone who worked in his industry there. “What happened?”

  Donna shrugged. “I’m not entirely sure. I know she ended up selling to one of the big corporate outfits, though.”

  It was the fate of a lot of small family funeral homes. So far, we’d avoided it, but the specter always hung over us. “So what’s the deal between her and Uncle Joey? Is it just me or did it seem like there was something going on there?”

  “It’s not just you.” We made it to the top floor and Donna flopped down on the couch in the living room. “She was our competition for quite a while. It was friendly, I think. They were all in the same bowling league. But it was hard to compete with Dad, you know?”

  I did. Dad had been a charmer. “And she decided to stop competing? Were there hard feelings?”

  “That’s what I’m not so sure about. There might have been an argument. I know Uncle Joey stopped going to bowling on Tuesday nights for a while.” Donna slipped off her shoes and put her feet up on the coffee table, wiggling her toes as if they were dancing at being free.

  “It had to be a pretty serious to get Uncle Joey to not bowl.” Uncle Joey loved bowling. He was good at it, too.

  Donna leaned forward over the pillow she’d pulled into her lap. “I know, but nobody would talk about it. Not Joey. Not Dad.”

  “Do you think we put her out of business?” I sat down on the other end of the couch.

  Donna bit her lip. “Maybe.”

  “And now she’s here inspecting us?” I shook my head. “That doesn’t seem like a good idea.”

  “It’s how things go. The state always hires from within the trade and the people within the trade who are available
are often people who are out of business.” She rubbed at her stomach again.

  “Shouldn’t there be some kind of conflict of interest that we can point to?” I asked. “Get a different inspector?”

  Donna reached over and put her hand on my arm. “Don’t borrow trouble. Let’s wait to see what she finds before we start accusing her of anything.”

  “Well, I can’t sit here waiting for the axe to fall. I’m taking Orion out.” I got back up.

  “Have you put up the ad yet?” she asked.

  “The what?” For a second, I didn’t know what she was talking about.

  “The ad. You know, to see if someone will adopt him. In the paper? On the Internet?” She shifted around on the couch, trying to get comfortable.

  “Oh, yeah. Not yet.” That weird indigestion started up again. Both of us rubbed at our stomachs.

  Donna raised an eyebrow.

  “We had a service yesterday and now I can’t use the computer downstairs while Zenia is inspecting us. I’ll do it this afternoon.” There might have been a bit of bite to my words.

  Donna held up her hands in front of her. “Okay. Okay. Relax, will you?”

  Orion was done with his nap and ready for another walk. We traipsed along through the sunshine. Mornings were already chilly, but afternoons still warmed up into the seventies and were pretty much perfectly Californian. Light breezes. Bird song. I wasn’t sure which one of us enjoyed it more. When we got back, Zenia’s Saab was still parked in the drive, though. How long was it going to take for her to go through those files? “Let’s go upstairs, boy.”

  We tiptoed up the back stairs and to my room. Violet’s laptop sat on my desk. I plugged in the laptop and flipped it open. I took out the notebook and found the password and typed it in. Everything whirred to life. First I launched her e-mail program. A ridiculous number of e-mails started to download. That was going to be a lot to go through.

  I clicked on her Internet browser and it loaded Facebook right away. Violet had forty-two notifications. Then I went back to her e-mail. She had notifications of some bills to be paid.

  I called Lizette.

  “Hi, Lizette. It’s Desiree at Turner Family Funeral Home again.”

  She made a weird noise. Kind of like a strangled growl. “What now?”

  I held the phone out from my ear. She sounded irritated. I was pretty sure I was the one doing her the favors. What did she have to be irritated about? “I found Violet’s laptop and a notebook with her passwords. I, uh, thought maybe you should go on Violet’s Facebook page and let people know what was going on. She seems to have been pretty active there.”

  “How on earth would I do that? I’m not her Facebook friend. I didn’t even know she existed until she didn’t anymore.” Definitely irritated.

  “Well, it’s not that hard. You just …”

  “If it’s not hard, would you mind taking care of it?” There was a bit more honey in her voice now. I was noticing a pattern.

  I hesitated. I wasn’t crazy about her previous tone. “Look,” I said. “You’re her actual relative. It seems a little strange to have me announcing her death to people.”

  “Isn’t death stuff what you do?” The edge was back. “Like as your job?”

  She had a point. “Yes, but this is more of a personal thing, something that should be handled by family.”

  She heaved a sigh that could probably have been used as a leaf blower. “Look. I didn’t know her. I don’t know her friends. I’m not even sure how we’re related. Just post something if you think that’s what should be done, okay?”

  It seemed ridiculous to argue about it. She was right, in a way. What did it matter if I posted about Violet’s death or a cousin who didn’t know her did? “She also had some notifications about bills needing to be paid.”

  “You have her laptop and all her passwords, right?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Pay the bills. You can probably pay them online, right?”

  “Is that even legal?”

  “Who’s going to turn you in? Look. I’ve got to go. Call me if there’s any problem paying the bills.”

  She was gone. I clicked to Violet’s profile page and posted a brief announcement informing everyone that Violet had passed away.

  I started going through Violet’s e-mails, deleting the obvious spam, political e-mails, and sales notices. I didn’t think Violet wanted to buy any crafting materials or enlarge the size of any of her organs, including ones I was pretty certain she didn’t have.

  It didn’t leave much. There weren’t many actual e-mails really to her. There were two from something called Helix Helper. I opened the first one. The subject line was Question Regarding Relative Search. Inside, the e-mail read:

  Hi, Violet,

  We hope you enjoyed your DNA profile. As to your question about our Relative Search option, you will get notifications that certain possible relatives exist, but you won’t be able to contact them unless they, too, have made their profiles public and available. Even if their profile was originally public, you won’t be able to contact them if their profiles are now private. There is no way to force them to reply to any messages you might have sent them. Like you, they have an expectation of privacy unless they specifically choose to give that up.

  Let us know if you have any further questions or concerns,

  Helix Helper

  That was interesting. I’d thought Violet didn’t have any relatives besides the cousin in Maine. I clicked the link. Three people showed up as possible relatives in the Helix Helper database. None had made their profiles public. They hadn’t even posted photos of themselves on their profiles. According to Helix Helper, their possible relationship to Violet was listed as “extremely high.” I wonder if I could post some kind of plea to them. Maybe I could find someone besides the snotty cousin in Maine to help sort everything out. I didn’t really want to deal with Violet’s belongings or her bills or her house. I didn’t want to deal with anything. Well, anything except Orion. I’d still deal with him. I mean, that just made sense. I was here on the ground, after all.

  It was sad, really. Violet clearly had been looking for some place where she belonged. All those Facebook groups? Trying to find distant relatives? It all pointed to someone who was trying to find her people, her tribe. I’d spent a good portion of my life trying to get away from my tribe, but I’d had the luxury of belonging in the first place.

  I continued deleting the ads and the spam and the special offers. Then I hit one that didn’t seem to be any of the above. The e-mail address didn’t have a name attached to it or any signature line inside the e-mail. The subject line read: Back off. Inside it read: Leave me alone if you know what’s good for you. The date on the e-mail was October second. The day of Violet’s accident.

  I forwarded it to Nate with a note saying, “Looks like somebody hated Violet.” Before I could decide what else to do, my phone buzzed. It was Uncle Joey asking me to come back downstairs.

  I told Orion to stay. He gave me a hurt look, but curled up on the rug by my bed. I went back to the basement, slowing with every step I took. Zenia, Donna, and Uncle Joey were waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs.

  “I’ve looked over the files and I don’t see any discrepancies or other wrongdoings,” Zenia announced.

  I blew out a breath. That was a relief.

  “It’s been a while since you’ve been inspected, though. I’ll be back on Wednesday to do a more thorough inspection.” Her words were clipped and sharp. I wasn’t sure if the inspection was a promise or a threat.

  “I’ll walk you out,” Uncle Joey said. He put his hand on the small of her back to usher her out. She must have been cold. I thought I saw her shiver.

  I watched as he followed her up the stairs, then Donna and I both looked over at the piles of files that Zenia had left on the long table. “I suppose I better get started refiling those,” I said.

  “Would you?” Donna leaned on the back of one of the chairs
. We’d had a little scare early on and we’d thought she might lose this baby, too. She’d even been on bed rest for a while. The doctor had loosened things up as Donna had improved. She could help in the office and with anything that wouldn’t put her on her feet for too long. Things had mellowed out, but we still didn’t want to overtire her.

  “Sure. You can go upstairs and rest.” I hesitated. “Can I bring Orion down here?”

  “You already have been.” She made that older sister face at me. The one that said she knew what I’d been up to, even if I hadn’t told her.

  Whatever. “I know, but I wasn’t sure if it was okay.”

  Donna shrugged. “I don’t think there’s any actual rule against it.”

  I went upstairs with Donna. She stayed upstairs and Orion came back down with me. “You can keep me company while I file,” I told him.

  He yipped, then settled onto my feet under the table as I sorted through the files. They were all from the past fourteen days. Somewhere in there was whoever had made a complaint against us. I scanned the names to see if I could figure out who. I didn’t spot anyone whose service or burial or cremation hadn’t gone as planned. Things had been running really smoothly. I hadn’t screwed anything up in weeks.

  Then my hand stopped on the file for Frank Fiore. I remembered Iris’s angry face as she told me off for looking into her father’s death. Could she be the one who filed the complaint? It didn’t matter if she was. Nothing had been found. The inspection would be a bit of a hassle, nothing more. I refiled Mr. Fiore’s folders.

  Then another thought struck me. If Dad had seen something that made him need to disappear, it would probably have been in one of the services he’d handled right before then. If he had seen or had heard something that was bad enough that he’d felt he had to somehow disappear, he wouldn’t have told us. That would have put us in danger, too. He might be out there trying to resolve whatever it was.

  That might explain why he would make his presence known after all this time. He wanted me to know he was still here. He knew if he did that then I’d want to find him. If he wanted me to find him, though, maybe he also wanted me to find what had made him disappear. I hadn’t been looking into that angle. I’d only been looking for him. Maybe letting me know he was still around was his way of getting me to step up and do some digging. I chewed on my lower lip. If there was anything to that hypothesis, the start of my answer would be in whoever’s funerals we had held around the time he disappeared.