Icing on the Casket

by Catherine Bruns

  His voice was low and seductive, his message clear. Desire and disappointment stirred in the pit of my stomach. I hadn't been fully on board for the wake and reception tonight, and now I regretted it even more. At this rate, Mike and I probably wouldn't have another chance to relax and enjoy each other's company until Sunday after the Easter celebration. He needed to have the kitchen done soon, and that would mean more late nights for him. By the end of the week, the bakery would be standing room only as everyone came in for their holiday treats.

  I bit into my lower lip. "It sounds wonderful, but I'm going to be a little later than I thought."

  A frown creased his face. "Why? What's going on?"

  "Josie and I agreed to go to Phibbins Mortuary tonight. We'll be catering a reception there and bringing cookies and cake. It won't be much work, and we'll make a killing." I shuddered and put a hand to my mouth. "Oh wow. I didn't mean that the way it sounded."

  Mike didn't laugh. His midnight blue eyes searched mine questioningly. "Why do I feel there's something else going on that you're not telling me?"

  I wound a strand of hair around my finger. "I'm not sure what you mean."

  He reached out to grab my left hand in his right one. "You're twisting your hair. That's never a good sign. I can tell when you're keeping something from me. If I had to wrangle a guess, it has to do with Eddie Phibbins' murder."

  I exhaled sharply. "My father thought it would be a good way to help her out and turn a nice profit at the same time. We don't have to wait on people. Once Linda pays us, Josie and I can—"

  Mike stared at me in disbelief. "So, the mourners are going to be eating coffin cookies after the wake? That's insane. Then again, anything goes around here."

  I gave him a peck on the lips. "If all goes well, we'll be home long before the wake ends."

  Mike's gaze didn't waver from my face. "Tell me the truth, Sal. Your father asked you to check into that guy's death, didn't he?"

  I hesitated a second too long. "Yes, but—"

  He cut me off. "I thought we agreed that your sleuthing days were over when you became a mother. It's too dangerous. You've almost gotten yourself killed multiple times, even when you were pregnant. Or have you forgotten about that already?"

  My jaw almost hit the floor. "Of course I haven't forgotten. You told me back then that it wasn't my fault—only bad luck. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time."

  His mouth hardened. "You're always in the wrong place at the wrong time, which is why I don't want you going there tonight. No, Sal. I won't have you putting your life in danger to find out who killed your father's friend. Let the police handle it. That's what they get paid for."

  "But I promised my father I would be there. I'm not doing any real detective work. I can't go back on my word now."

  Mike sighed and released me. "I really hate this. We have a daughter to think about. You can't keep doing this. It's like you have some death wish constantly hanging over your head. If Josie wants to go, that's her business, but I'd hope you'd respect my wishes and tell your father you can't make it."

  His words crushed me to the core. "Please don't be upset. You know I'd rather be home with you and Cookie. It's only for one night, okay?"

  Mike looked at me sadly then leaned down to give me a peck on the lips. "I wish I could believe that, Sal, but something tells me it won't be the case." He pushed the door open, then turned to face me one last time. "We'll miss you tonight."

  My heart started to break in two as I watched Mike make his way to the truck. I ran to the window, but he didn't even glance my way. Within seconds, he'd driven away from the curb, tires squealing, while I attempted to blink back tears.

  Josie came out of the back room and put an arm around my shoulders. "I heard the whole thing. He didn't take it well, huh?"

  "That's an understatement." I drew a hand across my eyes.

  She gave my arm a squeeze. "What do you want to do? Should we still be going through with it? I can go to the funeral home without you."

  I stared out into the street again, but Mike's truck was long gone. "No, I promised to be there. We'll ask a few questions and probably won't learn anything. I'll make it up to Mike when I get home."

  "Are you sure?" she asked gently.

  "Positive." I smiled, thinking of the sexy, red silk nightgown he'd bought me for Valentine's Day that I hadn't even had a chance to wear yet. "When I get home, everything will be fine. You'll see."

  Josie shot me a doubtful look but said nothing.

  CHAPTER SIX

  "Holy cow," Josie muttered under her breath. "I don't think I've ever seen so many people at a wake before."

  We were standing in the hallway, next to the private room's entrance. Mourners were proceeding into the funeral home at a rapid pace, and we had a perfect view every time the front door opened.

  Phibbins Mortuary had two "slumber" rooms, as my father called them, with a folding wall in between. Tonight, the wall had been rolled back in order to accommodate the mob scene–sized crowd.

  Josie and I had arrived at six thirty, after closing the bakery for the night. My car needed some exhaust work so she'd followed me over to the local garage first so I could drop it off. We usually closed the bakery at five, but when there were holidays involved, we stayed open until six o'clock.

  There were familiar townspeople who smiled at us but then whispered amongst themselves. I'd developed quite a reputation in Colwestern over the years. Since I was frequently featured in the local newspaper, my bakery was often referred to as Sally's Shambles instead of Sally's Samples.

  I peered out the nearby window. "This is insane. The line is wrapped around the block. There must be at least a hundred people outside."

  Josie tapped her foot impatiently and went to peer into the viewing room again. She came back seconds later, her lips drawn tight. "I know that Linda saw us. Can't she break away from the mourners for a minute to come and pay us?"

  We'd been waiting for almost an hour, and I'd promised Mike I wouldn't be long. We were having enough problems already, and here I was adding to them. Lack of sleep, lack of romance, and now he felt like he couldn't trust me. What a great basis for a marriage. "Well, while we're stuck here, I might as well talk to some of the employees. Do you think we can get a word with the doorman?"

  "I don't know. He's doing a booming business," Josie declared. "His name is Zach, right? What do you make of him? He looks like he needs a coffin himself."

  "Jos!"

  She looked sheepish. "Well, he has to be in his eighties at least."

  "It's a shame he's still working at that age," I said pityingly. "Unless he enjoys it."

  Josie looked at me like I had two heads. "Apart from your father, who else would enjoy anything about this business?"

  "Eddie seemed to like it," I said.

  She snorted. "Yeah and look where that got him."

  Zach was opening the door and allowing a few people in at a time. The entranceway and viewing room were filled to capacity with every kind of flower imaginable. A small table with a vase of orchids was to our left, and one of lilies and white roses was to our right. I usually loved the scent, but they were overpowering, and Josie and I were doing our best to keep from sneezing. The delicious scent of the coffee we'd made earlier drifted over from the private room and helped sustain me. We'd already set our goodies up in there too.

  "That coffee smells so good," I sighed. "I'm dying for a cup."

  "Those puns just keep coming," Josie teased.

  Ouch. "I didn't mean it the way it sounded."

  A shrill, stubborn female voice caught our attention. "Let me in. I no wait."

  "Hey, she cut the line!" a man yelled.

  "You let me in," the woman demanded.

  "By every hair of her chinny chin chin," Josie whispered. "Yep, it's either the Big Bad Wolf or Mrs. Gavelli."

  Frankly, I would have preferred the wolf. The voice rambled on, but this time in Italian, and moments later, a tiny woman dre
ssed in black pushed her way past Zach and into our line of vision. Nicoletta Gavelli had lived next door to my parents for thirty years. She'd raised Johnny, her grandson and Gianna's husband, from the age of five when his mother, Nicoletta's only daughter, had died of a drug overdose.

  Nicoletta and I had a love-hate relationship at times—but she did with most people. My grandmother was the only person who wasn't afraid to stand up to her. Johnny and I had been friends since childhood, and she'd once caught us in a compromising position in her garage playing "doctor." I'd only been six years old and the entire game had been Johnny's idea, but Nicoletta refused to believe her grandson was at fault. To this day, she still didn't trust me and claimed I was always up to no good.

  "Nicoletta," Zach said to her politely. "You can't butt the line."

  "Bah, what you say." She waved an irritated hand in his direction. Her eyes, dark as coal, caught sight of Josie and me. Uh-oh. I hoped she wouldn't make a scene.

  "Aha!" she said, triumph registering in her voice as she hurried toward us. "I no believe it when your father tell me, so I come see for myself. You bring cookies to wake? Shaped like coffins? Is waste of time. I need fortune cookie. You give me one to open when I get home."

  "We'll have to get you some from the private room. But why not open it here?" I asked.

  "What, you think I pazza too? Open fortune cookie in funeral home, might as well get in coffin. Just like Eddie. Zach tell me all about what happen to him." Nicoletta clucked her tongue like a chicken. "That one—he never very smart. Is no surprise."

  "Good grief, Nicoletta," Josie gasped. "The man is dead. Show a little respect."

  "Do you know Zach—err, Mr. Stevens well?" I asked.

  She nodded. "He good friend of Ronald's. They go fishing together. But they never catch anything. They too old."

  Ronald Feathers was Nicoletta's eighty-something-year-old boyfriend. The man had lost most of his teeth and was hard of hearing, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing where Nicoletta was concerned.

  "Do you think you could get Zach to come over here and talk to us?" Josie asked suddenly.

  I nudged my friend again. Nicoletta was nobody's fool, and I didn't want to put her on alert.

  Sure enough, the elderly woman latched on to Josie's words. "Why you want to see him?" she demanded. Her leathery face watched me closely, even though Josie had asked the question.

  "We thought he might want a fortune cookie," I said brightly. "Josie will get him one."

  Her expression told me that I wasn't fooling her. "Ha! I knew it. You here to find out who kill Eddie. Same as everybody else."

  I cocked an eyebrow. "That's not true. They're here for Mrs. Peacock."

  "Baloney," she spat out. "You think people come for that old woman? She nastier than a skunk. Meaner than me."

  "That is pretty bad," Josie agreed.

  Mrs. Gavelli ignored her. "Everybody want to know who kill Eddie. Your papa tell you to come here. He always with Eddie. Crazies stay with crazies."

  "You would know," Josie whispered as Nicoletta made her way over to Zach.

  We watched as Nicoletta said something to the man. He looked over at us and then closed the door, practically in a mourner's face. I studied him as he approached. Zach wasn't much taller than me and thin to the point of being gaunt, his face lined with wrinkles. Even at his advanced age, he still had an abundance of snow-colored hair and crystal clear blue eyes that regarded us warmly.

  "Well, if it isn't the cookie ladies," he said.

  Before we could reply, Mrs. Gavelli pushed herself between us and Zach. "No let the cookies fool you. They here to find out who kill Eddie."

  Thanks for the help, Mrs. G.

  To my surprise, Zach didn't move away. "You're Dom's daughter, aren't you? The baker, not attorney, right?"

  I extended my hand. "Yes. I'm Sally Donovan, and this is my best friend, Josie Sullivan."

  "Yah, she own bakery," Mrs. Gavelli cut in. "Her sister the attorney and my granddaughter-in-law. She a whack job too. It run in their family."

  I gritted my teeth together to keep a flippant response from tumbling out. As a public defender, Gianna's job was much more stressful than mine. Her son, Alex, had just started walking, and she was having a tough time keeping up with him. On top of that, she had to contend with Mrs. Gavelli most days. She certainly had her work cut out for her.

  "It's all right," Zach assured us. "Linda already told me that you'd be here tonight looking into Eddie's death."

  Josie and I stared at each other dumbfounded. I thought Linda had understood it was imperative to keep our real reason for being here a secret. So why was she telling her employees, especially when they were under a cloud of suspicion?

  "As you're aware, my father was a good friend of Eddie's," I explained. "But we're primarily here to represent our bakery's goods. Dad just thought we might be able to find out some more details of Eddie's death. He's so upset about it."

  "We're not detectives," Josie put in.

  Zach scratched his head thoughtfully. "I wish I could help, ladies, but there's nothing I can tell you."

  "How long have you worked here?" Josie asked.

  "About three years," Zach said. "I was employed at Shakey's Funeral Parlor until they went under." He gave us a sly wink. "Sorry, just a little funeral home humor."

  "That no funny," Mrs. Gavelli declared.

  I nudged Josie again. "Hey, Jos, why don't you take Mrs. Gavelli into the reception so that she can pick out her own fortune cookie?"

  Josie immediately got the message. She grabbed the elderly woman's arm and gave me a look that said I'd owe her big-time for this.

  Zach waited until they had walked away. "Eddie was a good guy, and I'm going to miss him," he said sadly. "Feel free to ask me anything you like."

  "Did Eddie have any enemies that you knew about?"

  The elderly man seemed perplexed. "Enemies? Eddie?"

  "Okay, maybe that's too strong of a word," I admitted. "Was there someone who didn't like him very much? A former customer perhaps?"

  Zach considered my question for a minute. "Well, there was that whole mess with his brother, Arthur. I mean, he was ticked off about their father leaving the funeral home to Eddie, but I thought he'd moved on. I mean, how long can a person hold a grudge for?"

  "You'd be surprised."

  He frowned. "Last week, I came into work one morning to find Arthur sitting in Eddie's office, behind his desk, waiting for him."

  This was unexpected. "Did Linda know he was here?"

  "I'm not sure anyone did," Zach said. "I was the first to arrive that morning—well, after Arthur, of course. Eddie must never have changed the locks. After his brother left, Eddie asked me not to tell anyone he'd been here."

  I raised an eyebrow. "Do you know what they were talking about?"

  He shrugged. "Not really. When Eddie came in, he shut the door to his office, but I could hear them talking in low voices. Arthur was only here for a couple of minutes. After he was gone, Eddie said something weird to me, like, 'I'm paying for my mistake.'" Zach stared at me in confusion. "What do you think he meant by that?"

  The words made me shiver inwardly. Had Eddie known someone was out to kill him? "No idea. I guess there could be several different meanings. Maybe Arthur threatened him? Or he decided to sell the place to him?"

  Zach shook his head vehemently. "Eddie would never sell this place. He always joked that he was just like the funeral home's motto—with it to the very end."

  "What about the woman who does the makeup—Charlene? Is there any way I can speak to her?"

  "Charlene's not here tonight. She usually works during the day. She got Mrs. Peacock in tip-top shape earlier. She's good at her job. Didn't even ruffle one feather on the woman. Ha-ha, get it?"

  I struggled not to roll my eyes.

  People were crowding the area by the front door, and some had started rapping on it, but Zach didn't seem to be concerned. Instead, he crooked his shrivel
ed pinky finger for me to come closer, which I reluctantly did. "Want to know a secret?"

  No. "Yes."

  "Charlene had the hots for Eddie," Zach chortled.

  I hadn't been expecting this. "How old is Charlene?"

  "Mid-forties. A regular spring chicken." A small smile played at the corners of Zach's cracked lips. "Yeah, she was looking to jump his bones. Isn't that what you young people say?"

  "I'm not familiar with the phrase," I muttered.

  Zach sighed. "Too bad that's all that's left of him now."

  Oh. My. God. I stared at him mutely, too shocked for words.

  "She was always trying to get him into her work room," Zach continued. "If you ask me, Eddie should have taken Charlene up on it. She's younger than Linda and way better looking than that old prune."

  Zach was the last person who should be calling anyone old, but I refrained from saying so. "When will Charlene be in again so that I can talk to her?"

  "About eight o'clock tomorrow morning," he replied. "We've got another wake scheduled for tomorrow night, and her services will be needed. You can watch her do her thing, so to speak. She likes to have company while doing makeovers."

  "Sounds good." Who was I kidding? A casual conversation with Charlene while she puts makeup on a dead person. Yes, that was something I definitely wanted to do first thing in the morning. "What about Wally? Did you get along with him?"

  Zach started to laugh. He threw his head back so far that I was afraid he might go into traction. "Wally? Mr. Employee of the Year? He stole from Eddie and then had the nerve to complain about how badly life treated him. What a piece of work."

  "Sounds like you didn't like him very much."

  Zach's wrinkles deepened. "That's right. I couldn't stand him. Before he came along, I was the hearse driver. That was my job until Eddie took it away from me and gave it to that jerk. I told Eddie I didn't want to be a doorman, but he said I was getting too old to drive." His nostrils flared. "Do you know how that made me feel?"