She let out a sob and nodded. "Oh my, yes. She never did pay the entire sum. That wasn't the only time it happened, either. Eddie got stiffed many times."
I held my breath, afraid someone might laugh, but fortunately no one did.
"I'll stop and have a chat with Wally." Brian stuck the tablet under his arm again. "Mrs. Phibbins, can I trouble you for phone numbers of the other employees?"
She sniffed again. "Of course, Officer."
Brian watched her anxiously. "Is there someone you can call to stay with you? A family member? Friends? Children?"
She shook her head. "Our only son, Terry, lives in London. I'll call him, of course, but he and Eddie weren't very close." She wiped her eyes. "He was embarrassed that his father was an undertaker. Like me, he never understood the business. I doubt he'll even come for the funeral."
Tears gathered in my eyes. "I'm so sorry."
Linda gave me a rueful smile as she rose to her feet. "I'll get that information for you, Officer." She hesitated. "But there is someone else you should be questioning. Eddie's brother, Arthur."
"Does he work here too?" Brian asked.
Linda's wide mouth, lined generously with a dark shade of purple lipstick, hardened. "No, but he'd like to. He's always been furious that the funeral home was left to Eddie instead of him."
Someone with a surefire motive to want Eddie dead. Now we were getting somewhere.
We all waited for Linda to continue, but my father interrupted, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "I met Arthur once. He came in here and tried to start a fight with Eddie. You don't think—"
"Does he know how to embalm a body?" Brian cut in.
"Yes, of course," Linda said. "The funeral home has been in the family for decades. Their father, Horace Phibbins, started the place. Arthur and Eddie worked here since they were teenagers. Shortly before Horace's death, he and Arthur had a terrible argument. Horace changed his will, and Eddie was the only one to inherit the place. Arthur almost went crazy. He contested the will, but in the end, the funeral parlor still went to Eddie."
"How long ago was this?" Brian asked.
Linda twisted her hands together. "About four years ago."
"Hey, Brian." The police officer with the carrot-colored hair appeared in the doorway. "The coroner wants to have a word with you. He's still in the display room."
Brian nodded. "Be right there, Keith. Excuse me for a second, folks."
After Brian left the room, Linda hiccupped back a sob. "I don't know what I'm going to do, Domenic. Business has been slow, and Eddie always took charge of everything. I don't have a clue as to how to manage the place."
My father patted her hand. "Don't worry. Business will pop back up. I mean, look on the bright side, Linda. You're always going to have customers."
He had such a way with words.
Dad snapped his fingers. "I have an idea. Since we have the best detective in town sitting right here in this room, Eddie's murder will be easy to solve."
"You?" Linda's tone was incredulous.
"Aw, shucks." Dad blushed. "Nice of you to say, but my talents lie elsewhere."
"He's referring to his blog and writing books," I said hurriedly, hoping Linda wouldn't get the wrong idea.
"Like I said, Sal is top notch. Don't let her modesty fool you. Give her a chance to crack the case."
Linda looked unimpressed. "Did she catch someone stealing cookies in her shop?"
The sarcasm in her tone wasn't lost on me, but I refrained from comment. What good would it do? The woman was grieving, after all. Besides, I didn't want to become involved in Eddie's murder case.
"That's kid's stuff," Dad laughed. "Sal's solved murders. Real Forensic Files type of stuff. Let's see, when her ex got murdered, she found the killer before the police did. Then there was her ex's lover who died after eating Sal's cookies, and she tracked down her killer too. And we can't forget the Mafia guy who died in her bakery when it burned down, or the old woman who was stealing Josie's recipes and got mowed over by a car—"
Good grief. This was embarrassing and not exactly an endorsement for my bakery. "Dad, that's probably enough details."
My father's eyes took on a sudden, faraway gleam. It was the same look he got whenever a new idea struck him. "Linda, don't you have gatherings in your private room after a wake or funeral?"
She nodded. "Sometimes. We always offer the room at an extra charge with our funeral packages. Many people find it's a money saver, instead of holding a separate reception in a restaurant. I buy cookies and coffee. If the family wants a more elaborate menu, they can have it catered."
"Hmm." My father was deep in thought. "What if Sal and Josie provide the cookies after your next wake? Sal could bring some of her coffin and fortune cookies too."
Was he kidding? "No, Dad," I said in exasperation.
To my chagrin, Linda seemed interested. "Fortune and coffin cookies at a reception. They might get some special interest."
Oh, this was a bad idea.
"Sure they would." Dad looked pleased with himself. "Sal and Josie could cater the event. Josie's the real baker, but Sal does try hard."
I struggled not to roll my eyes. "Gee, thanks."
"The coffin cookies would go like hotcakes," Dad assured Linda. "You could probably up your price for the reception if you told your clients about them. Why, they're the bomb."
Linda sniffed. "Eddie loved those cookies so."
"While Sal's there, she could ask questions and do some investigating into Eddie's death," my father continued. "That way your employees wouldn't suspect a thing."
I glanced uneasily around the room. "Dad, the police are perfectly capable of finding Eddie's killer without my help."
"Sure, they are," he agreed. "But what harm would it to do poke around a bit? What do you think, Linda?"
What about what I thought?
Linda sighed and rose to her feet. "Sure, Domenic, it's fine. As a matter of fact, there's a wake and reception scheduled tomorrow night for Evelyn Peacock. Her family has requested the room to save money."
"No kidding," my father mused. "I hadn't heard that she died. Poor old broad."
"Dad!"
My father colored. "Sorry. I didn't mean to sound disrespectful."
Evelyn Peacock and her husband Lawrence had run Peacock's Dry Cleaning for the past forty years. It was one of the oldest businesses in town. The Peacock family lived by the famous motto, Cleanliness is next to Godliness for their business, while Colwestern had adopted the appropriate, Don't Ruffle a Peacock's Feathers in their honor.
"It's all right," Linda said. "She was an old broad. Meaner than a snake and full of venom. With all the money that family has, can you believe her skinflint husband asked if we had any display caskets he could get for half price? And he only wants cookies, cake, and coffee at the reception."
"What a cheapskate." My father shook his head in dismay.
Linda turned to me. "If you could come in around six or six thirty to set up, that would be great."
I stared at Linda in amazement. "You mean you're still open for business?"
"We have no choice. There's a public to serve. As Eddie always said, the show must go on."
My father gave a sad smile. "He had such a way with words."
"What about the funeral?" I asked. "Will they have a reception after that too?"
"Mr. Peacock's having a small affair at his house after the funeral," Linda replied. "He thinks more people will come to the wake. The wake probably won't wind down until after nine o'clock."
"I can't stay that late," I blurted out.
"It's fine," Linda said. "You and your partner can come by and drop off the cookies whenever you get a chance. I'll pay you for them, and then you can do whatever you like—as far as questioning people, that is." She rose. "Excuse me, but I need to get some air."
After she'd left the room, I turned on my father in annoyance. "Dad, you've done some strange things before, but this one takes the cake. Peop
le might be offended by coffin cookies at a gathering. Think about it. You're mourning a loved one, and then someone offers you a cookie shaped like a coffin?"
He gave my hair an affectionate tug. "That's where you're wrong, baby girl. People like to eat. Colwestern recently voted in a nationwide poll that dessert was their favorite meal. This town lives for gossip—and funerals." Dad chuckled. "Hey, I think I just made a funny."
"But it's not funny," I insisted. "And I don't have time."
"Just for one night," my father pleaded. "Sal, Eddie was a good man. Linda's a nice lady, but she's never been the sharpest crayon in the box. I realize the police are competent, but the department's overloaded. Keith told me so himself. We need someone who cares enough about Eddie to help, and I can't do it alone." He stared at me in earnest. "I have faith in you, baby girl."
My father always knew what buttons to push with me. "I still don't think this is a very good idea. Mike has to work late tomorrow night, so what am I going to do about Cookie? I am not bringing her here."
"You and Josie can stop over after work. Come by the house for a bite to eat. Your mother and I will watch the baby. Two hours out of your life, and who knows what might happen? You might end up solving the murder and get great exposure for the bakery. It wouldn't surprise me one bit."
I hesitated. While I didn't want to disappoint my father, I was starting to feel a bit overwhelmed by all the responsibilities in my life. "All right, one night and that's it. I want to help, Dad, but I have a bakery to run and a baby to care for." And a husband I never spent time with anymore, but I didn't say that out loud.
Dad looked pleased. "That's great. It's all going to work out fine, trust me. I have every confidence in you." He shoved another cookie into his mouth. "You and Josie will make some money and help Linda out in the process. One hand washes the other."
"I promised Mike when Cookie was born that I'd stay away from sleuthing."
"You can't stay away," Dad insisted. "It's always going to be a part of you. Don't you realize that by now?"
His statement was bothersome but fairly accurate. Since my return to Colwestern almost four years ago, I'd been involved in more murder investigations that I cared to count. My grandmother had once told me that it might be my destiny.
"Don't worry," Dad said with his usual cheeriness. "Mike will understand. He's a good man."
"All right," I gave in wearily. "Josie and I will be here." Heck, it was only one night out of my life. What was the worst thing that could happen?
CHAPTER FIVE
Josie shook her head in disbelief as she assembled coffin cookies on the table in front of us. "This is nuts. I can't believe I'm going to bring coffin cookies to a wake. Does your father stay awake at night thinking up these crazy ideas?"
I looked up from the tray of fortune cookies that I was inserting messages into. "I couldn't say no, Jos. It means so much to him."
Josie eyed me with curiosity as she decorated the chocolate-frosted lids with a white cross. "What I really want to know is what Mike said. He thought your sleuthing career was over when you had Cookie."
I squirmed under her gaze. "He doesn't know—yet."
"Are you crazy?" she asked. "I hope you're not planning to wait until you're at the funeral parlor to call him."
The thought had crossed my mind, but I knew Mike would become even more upset if I waited until the last minute.
"Hey, I didn't plan this." My tone sounded defensive. "I was asleep when he got home last night, and he left before Cookie and I were up this morning." At least before I was fully awake. "We didn't get a chance to talk." This was the new norm for us these days. I'd go to bed when Cookie fell asleep, Mike would give her a supplemental bottle when he got home, and then I'd get up with her when she woke again. Last night she'd been up three times.
Josie's face was sympathetic. "Sal, you don't need this extra hassle. Plus, what happens when Brian finds out you're conducting your own investigation? Did you happen to think he might be at the wake tonight? He won't be happy either."
"I'm used to that. But why would Brian be at Mrs. Peacock's wake?"
Josie moved the cookies to a silver tray. "Because it's going to be a mob scene. And I'm not talking about mourners for Evelyn. No one liked that sour puss."
The Peacocks did impeccable garment cleaning, but the family itself had never been overly friendly in our community and always kept to themselves.
"That's a terrible thing to say! She's been ill for the last couple of years. Maybe that had to do with her temperament."
"You know that's not true," Josie snorted. "She was never in the best temperament. Don't you remember that time when we trick-or-treated at their house, and she chased us off her porch with a broom? She told us to go beg for candy somewhere else."
"I'd forgotten about that."
Josie went on. "Or what about the day she came into the bakery after it had just opened and told us that she should get a senior citizen discount every day of the week, not just on Tuesdays? Let's not forget about the time her grandson Kevin took me to the school dance and got in trouble for drinking alcohol. She tried to blame the entire episode on me, and I was stone-cold sober."
"It might have been the only dance where you were sober," I teased.
Josie placed her hands on her slim hips. "That's true. Anyhow, I'm sorry the woman is dead, but this isn't about her. People are going to be at the funeral home because of Eddie. This is the first wake to be held since his death was announced, so maybe mourners think they're getting a two for one show."
"Then they're in for a rude awakening," I said. "Dad called earlier to tell me Eddie will be buried in a private ceremony. They have to wait until after the autopsy is conducted, of course, and other tests must be done. He said Linda's not even going to let their employees attend."
Josie covered the tray of coffin cookies with plastic wrap. "Everyone in town's already guessing about what happened to him. It's the biggest thing that's happened to Colwestern since you got carjacked by Santa Claus."
Why did I always have to be at the center of our town's weirdness?
Josie put the frosting bowl in the sink. "When you were on the phone earlier with your grandmother, a couple of customers came in and were talking about Linda. They think she's the one who offed Eddie."
"Oh, for goodness sake," I protested.
Josie pointed the frosting knife at me. "Hey, you and I have learned the hard way that anyone is capable of murder."
"But what good would his death do her? Linda would inherit the funeral home and its financial problems. She said she has no idea how to run the place."
"Then I'm betting on one of their employees," Josie said. "Maybe that Wally guy who stole Eddie's urns. What do you think?"
I carefully covered the chocolate fudge cake Josie had made for the reception tonight. "Honestly, I don't know what to think, but I'd like to find out more about Arthur Phibbins. He wanted that funeral home and, according to Linda, would do anything to get his hands on it."
"He won't be allowed at the private service for Eddie? His own brother?" Josie asked.
"Don't think so. Dad said that Linda didn't want him there. Apparently, he's been harassing her with phone messages. She's thinking about getting a restraining order against him."
Josie snorted. "I bet you five bucks he shows up tonight." She stared down at the rows of coffin cookies in front of her. "At least we have the food situation covered. I made two hundred cookies and baked a strawberry cake for a backup if needed. If there's another reception tomorrow, I can make more coffin cookies. Dodie will be in to help."
"No way. I already told my father we're not doing this again."
Josie took the tray of fortune cookies I'd assembled. "Fine with me. But we're still going to make a very nice profit from the Peacocks' shindig."
"This just seems in such poor taste," I sighed. "I don't want to be known as a funeral vendor."
Josie started toward the display case. "This is
Colwestern, Sal. The tackier, the better. When are you going to tell Mike, by the way?"
"I'll call him shortly. He won't be upset because he has to work late anyway, and my parents are fine with me leaving Cookie with them. I'll let Mike know that we're catering an event." Hey, it wasn't a total lie.
"Well, well," Josie called out. "Looks like you're going to get your chance sooner than you planned."
"What are you talking about?" I wiped my hands on my apron and joined her by the display case. Sure enough, a navy blue truck was parked at the side of the road. I watched as my husband alighted from it, looking his usual handsome and rugged self in dark blue jeans, matching jean jacket, and work boots.
I crossed over to the front door as he pushed it open. He grinned and placed his arms around me. "Hey, beautiful. I was coming in here for cookies but figured I'd see if there were any gorgeous women hanging around."
"It must be your lucky day since there's two of us," Josie called out.
He grinned at her then cupped my face between his hands and pressed his mouth against mine. "Mm. Tastes like cinnamon."
I gave him a sheepish look. "Okay, I may have had a snickerdoodle."
"Or four," Josie called out.
I ran my hands over his chest. "This is a nice surprise. What are you doing here?"
Mike gazed into my eyes with a smile that made my heart melt. "I finished the Shelby roof earlier than I thought. I'd planned to start on the Gardners' kitchen, but they won't be ready for me until tomorrow, so I have the rest of the day free." He kissed me again, more passionately this time, and for a few seconds I forgot where I was.
Josie cleared her throat. "Good thing there's no customers, or they'd be in full gawk mode. Excuse me, lovebirds. I'll be in the back room. Someone has to keep this bakery running."
I pulled my mouth away from Mike's and called out, "I'll be back there in a second to help."
Mike's face shone with excitement. "You look exhausted, princess. I thought I'd go home, grab a quick nap, then get some takeout for us. When you get done for the day, we can have some alone time before we pick up Cookie. If she wakes up tonight, I'll take care of her." He pressed his lips against my ear and whispered, "It's been a while, baby."
Icing on the Casket Page 4
