Casket Case

by Fran Rizer

  Big Boy galloped up to me as I stepped into the living room. He seemed to be growing bigger and more dependent on me every day. From his avoidance of being seen doing his business to his fear of chickens and other small animals to his wanting me to be with him anytime the weather was bad, especially when thunder rumbled and lightning cut through the sky.

  I wondered if I would need to take Big Boy to a doggie shrink. I hoped not. I’d already spent my savings having his ears cropped so they would stand up and he’d look like the purebred Great Dane he was instead of just a giant, spotted dog.

  Big Boy wasn’t cooperating with my idea that he could go potty even if it were raining. It didn’t matter that I stood at the door; he wasn’t having any of it. He bounded back into the bedroom and leaped up on the bed.

  Giving up, I carried the Moon Pie and milk to the bed, where Deadly Advice awaited me on the bedside table. I shoved the dog’s legs and paws out of the way, and by the time I’d finished the next chapter, Big Boy’s snores were rumbling along with the thunder.

  When I climbed out of bed a little after eight, I turned on the radio to catch the news and weather. Disc jockey Cousin Roger on WXZW announced the storms would probably last all day. That made me so mad that I turned off the radio and considered calling in sick and staying home to read. But that wouldn’t be fair to Otis and Odell, and I would have felt really guilty if I didn’t go in to take care of Dr. Melvin.

  I showered, dressed, and headed to work. The rain sluiced over the windshield reminding me I needed new wipers. Gusts of wind rocked the Mustang slightly, and I was glad when I reached Middleton’s.

  Otis was sitting at his desk, reading the newspaper. “Where’s Odell?” I asked. “Has he gone for Dr. Melvin?”

  “No. I’ll give you one guess where he is.”

  “Picking up a client?”

  “No, guess again.”

  “Shoney’s?”

  “You got it. Gone to the breakfast buffet. You can work on the web page if you want. Bring everything up to date.”

  “We don’t have anyone at all?”

  “Not a single client.”

  “What do you want me to do on the web page? There’s no info to add.”

  “Pretty it up some.” He paused, then changed his mind. “Aw, you don’t have to do anything. Just read a book and answer the phone if anyone calls.” Otis stood. “I’m going over to Shoney’s and see what a vegan can eat off that buffet.”

  The storm raged louder with sharp bolts of lightning. I read until both of my bosses returned. “What did you find to eat?” I asked Otis, knowing that he wouldn’t eat eggs or any kind of breakfast meat.

  “Salad bar was already set up. I had a great breakfast. Grits and veggies. Brought you a blueberry muffin.” He set a small bag on my desk.

  All three of us jumped when the phone rang, each hoping the call was work-related, though for it to be business, someone had to have died. I always felt guilty when I wished someone would die so the twins wouldn’t have to close the mortuary.

  “Middleton’s Mortuary,” I said into the phone receiver. “How may I help you?”

  “Calamine.” Daddy was the caller. “Is the electricity off downtown?”

  “No, sir. We’ve got power.”

  “It’s off here. Lightning musta struck something. Frank wants to know if you think Jane’s awake yet. He needs to call and let her know that even if he rents a covered truck, everything will get wet bringing it down the stairs to load the truck unless this rain lets up.”

  “Tell him not to call her until noon. The storm might have awakened her, but it’s best to wait. She’s not stupid. She’ll know that The Boys can’t move her until the rain stops, or at least slows down.”

  “Okay.” Daddy paused several seconds. “Whatcha doing tomorrow, Calamine?”

  “Daddy, you and I both know what tomorrow is, and I won’t be coming over there, so don’t worry about it.” My daddy loves me, and I think he’s been a great father/mother to me and The Boys since I was born, but he’s never celebrated my birthday.

  John was just shy of thirteen when I was born, and I remember his making cupcakes for me when I was in kindergarten. When I was in elementary school, my brothers took me out to McDonald’s for my birthday, but Daddy was never a part of it. To him, the twenty-second of June was the day his wife died. Nothing more.

  “Have you made plans?” he asked.

  “Not really. If Jane gets moved today, I’ll probably spend tomorrow helping her set up the new apartment. Frank and Mike did a good job cleaning it.”

  “Yeah, I heard that.” Daddy cleared his throat. “Your brother John came in last night. Wants to know if he can take you to dinner.”

  “What time will I be finished?” I half-mouthed to my bosses. Odell waved his hand toward the door.

  Otis said, “Anytime. Unless we get a call, there’s nothing to be done here anyway.”

  “Sure,” I said to Daddy, “tell John to pick me up around six. I’d like to eat dinner early. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

  The telephone was silent the rest of the day. I had lots of time to sit around and think. I thought about being almost thirty-three and having no regular gentleman caller. I thought about both Pearl and Dr. Melvin finding love on the Internet. I even wondered what had happened to those thongs Jane left in the backseat. Had a raccoon or some other animal like a cat stolen them? Or a squirrel? I shuddered at the thought. I don’t like squirrels at all.

  Just fooling around, I went to one of the singles’ websites and filled in a profile. The first thing I did was change my name. No way am I going to be known online as Calamine Lotion Parrish. What was the prettiest name I ever heard for a girl? Vanessa. No doubt about it. Vanessa! I typed my name as Vanessa and felt prettier immediately.

  According to the computer, Vanessa was five feet, six inches tall. That’s only two inches taller than I am, maybe no one will notice. She weighed 120 pounds. Well, I did weigh 120 before I gained almost ten pounds. She had red hair and brown eyes. Just the color of Jane’s. If I try enough hair products, I could probably get my hair that color, and they sell colored contact lenses that will change eye color.

  I typed that Vanessa was twenty-eight years old. I almost put twenty-nine, but nobody would believe anyone in a singles’ chat room is really twenty-nine.

  The next part of the profile asked about likes and dislikes. Now, I know what I like—lasagna and coconut cake, not necessarily at the same meal. Somehow, I didn’t think that’s what they were asking. I put that I enjoyed walks along the beach. Who doesn’t?

  Occupation? Technically, a person who does what I do at a funeral home is called a cosmetitian. Don’t ask me why. There should be a whole dictionary of Funeralese. I typed that in, then deleted it. Most folks wouldn’t know what it meant. I just filled in cosmetologist so the guys wouldn’t think Vanessa couldn’t spell.

  I guess I fooled around creating the new me on the computer for an hour or so. What if I actually pushed “submit” and someone responded? What if he was really sweet and really hot? What if Vanessa liked him? What if he turned out to be a fake like Christopher in that Ann Rule book?

  “Amazing Grace” announced John’s arrival a little before six. My hand acted on its own and, with no direction from me, the mouse went to “submit.” Vanessa entered the chat room as I met John in the entry. He shook off his umbrella and raincoat, then slid both of them out onto the covered porch that surrounds three sides of Middleton’s. Wind blew the rain so hard that it looked and felt like it was raining on the veranda.

  “Wow!” John said. “This is getting worse by the minute. Have you had the radio on?”

  “No,” I said.

  “Tropical storm Elise is skipping up the coast. It may still turn into a hurricane. That’s what brought all of this, and the storm’s stopped off the coast of South Carolina. We may have several days of wind and rain.”

  “I know hurricane season starts near the first of June,
but it seems early for Elise. I’d think something this early would be called Adam or Amanda,” I said.

  “Storm season got a fast start this year.”

  John and I dashed to his Mercedes with the wind trying to wrench our umbrellas from our hands and the rain blowing directly into our faces.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Little Sister, how about Blue Crab?” John asked as we both tried to brush water from our faces and clothing.

  “Sure. You know me and seafood, and I haven’t been to Blue Crab in ages.”

  There are times when something in my Mustang gets waterlogged, and the car doesn’t want to turn on during heavy rain. John’s Mercedes doesn’t have that problem. In seconds, we were taking a smooth ride to the restaurant.

  John and I have become closer since I grew up, and normally I babble constantly to him when he’s around, but the wind and rain beating against the car made me silent. I wanted John to keep his mind on his driving.

  Blue Crab’s parking lot wasn’t crowded, and John pulled into a space near the door. He reached across to the backseat and brought the umbrellas out. He got out of the car, put both umbrellas up, and walked around to my side. Even with his thoughtfulness, I was soaked again by the time we stepped into the restaurant. The wind was blowing the rain at us sideways.

  The restaurant interior might seem tacky to some folks, but I’ve always loved it. Gray board walls are hung with fishing nets, and there are crabs of all sizes displayed in the nets. Some of them are genuine shells, but others are plastic. Not kiddy plastic, but expensive crabs created to decorate places like Blue Crab.

  Not nearly so classy as Andre’s, Blue Crab is still several notches above where I usually eat. When the server brought the menus, John ordered a decanter of wine. John did the sniff, taste, and smile routine. The server poured mine and walked away. John lifted his glass in a toast. “To us,” he proposed. “To happy futures and many long years of health for Little Sister and me.”

  It wasn’t what I’d expected since all of my brothers know many, many risqué toasts. They learned them from Daddy. After John married Miriam and moved to Atlanta, he had changed from the rude, crude, socially unacceptable redneck typical of our household. I’ve been to visit them in their McMansion with their adorable son and daughter. They even have a maid and a gardener.

  “Callie!” I heard the squeal before I saw her. Pearl White and her fiancé were rising from a table on the other side of the room. Pearl came clumping over to John and me with her walker. She had on a red dress and she’d put red tennis balls on her walker.

  “Is Jane with you?” Pearl asked. As if she were blind or Jane was invisible.

  “No, ma’am.”

  “I was hoping to speak with her. Ms. Lucas says that Jane is being very difficult.”

  My hackles rose on that. “Mrs. White, Jane was supposed to move today, but as you know, the weather hasn’t cooperated. Can’t you make that woman wait until after Jane’s moved out to show her the garage apartment? If not, maybe you should come with her.”

  “I just don’t understand. I know Jane went through a rowdy spell as a young lady, but she’s always been the epitome of courtesy to me.” Pearl’s voice was almost a whimper.

  “That’s because you aren’t rude to her and you don’t scream at her.” And you’re the only person in the world who’d call Jane a “lady” during her wild time. I didn’t say the second part of that thought aloud.

  “I’m selling everything off, all of my property, so no one can say that Georgie is after my money.” She laughed. “You know, they say that a lot of the time when people find their soul mates on the Internet and one of them happens to be a few years younger than the other. I’m not going to have anyone saying that about my Georgie.”

  “I’ve told you not to worry about it,” George said.

  Pearl continued as though he hadn’t spoken. “I was just lucky that Lucas Investment Enterprises came along so quickly to buy my two houses, the apartment, and the oceanfront lot.”

  “An oceanfront lot!” I splattered a bit of spittle as I spat out the words. “Mrs. White, there isn’t any oceanfront property available around here. Hasn’t been for years!”

  “Well, I’ve owned this piece for years and not had it on the market. It’s leased out to a waterfront restaurant, but I’m going to sell it. Get rid of all the responsibilities of these rentals.”

  “Are you sure you want to do that?” John asked.

  “What’s wrong with that?” Pearl demanded with just a touch of anger in her voice.

  George Carter pulled out a chair for Pearl as though they were joining us. He said, “Maybe you should listen to these young people, Pearl. Wait a while to liquidate all your holdings.”

  “No, I want to be free and clear of everything here. When we marry and move to Orlando, I don’t want any business to distract me from living happily ever after.”

  “But you’ll still have to manage your assets,” John commented. “Just because it’s money instead of property doesn’t mean you won’t have business responsibilities.”

  “You don’t understand,” Pearl said and sat in the chair George had pulled out for her. He sat down beside her. “Georgie here”—she motioned toward Mr. Carter—“has made it clear to me that he doesn’t want anything from me but love.” She smiled up at the man with a simpering look and, buh-leeve me, it was all I could do not to barf. “I’m going to donate the money to homes for the blind and deaf.”

  “Do you mind if we join you?” George asked the question, but it was a case of putting the horse after the cart. They’d already sat with us.

  “Oh, no, not at all.” Ex-cuuze me. That was John talking, because I did mind. I don’t have many opportunities to talk alone with my oldest brother, and, besides, I’d been thinking this dinner might be a private birthday celebration.

  The server reappeared beside us, and John ordered Lobster Imperial for himself and my favorite, Crab Benedict, for me. George suggested dessert to Pearl, but she said, “No, just coffee, please.” He requested two coffees and one slice of Chocolate Volcano cake.

  The young man brought John’s and my dinners at the same time as their coffees and cake.

  Pearl took a sip of coffee and screwed her face into a very unpleasant and unhappy expression. “What’s wrong?” the server asked.

  “This coffee tastes like crude oil. When did you make it? This morning? It’s way too strong for me.”

  “I’m so sorry, ma’am. Let me take it away and brew a fresh pot for you.”

  “No, it’s just too strong. Bring me a whiskey sour instead.”

  John raised an eyebrow at me, our secret signal when we were amused. Like a whiskey sour is a weaker drink than coffee!

  Mrs. White rambled on while we ate. “I’ve been so busy trying to take care of everything for my move that I haven’t even checked on when Melvin’s funeral is scheduled. Do you know, Callie?” The waiter had arrived with her whiskey sour, and she took a long swallow.

  “No, the services aren’t set yet.” That’s all I really should have said, but I added, “Dr. Melvin’s still in Charleston.”

  “In Charleston? Why?”

  “Since he died an unattended death, the coroner had to order an autopsy.”

  “But surely there’s nothing strange about his death.” She emptied the whiskey sour and cast a coy look at her fiancé that said Another one, please. Mr. Carter caught the server’s eye, pointed to Pearl’s glass, and nodded. That’s always amazed me how men can order without a word, but I usually have to repeat what I want several times to communicate with waiters and waitresses.

  “That’s just the law,” I said and took another bite of my Crab Benedict. I love that dish, could eat it three times a day.

  “I guess we all know what probably killed him out there in that Jacuzzi. I warned him that people with hypertension aren’t supposed to use hot tubs, but he told me he’d never had high blood pressure.” Pearl giggled, knocked back the rest o
f her drink, and said, “At least he died happy.”

  George Carter patted her hand and waved to the waiter. I wondered if he thought she needed another drink, but instead he asked for their check. Pearl wasn’t ready to leave. She wanted to talk about Dr. Melvin.

  “You know, Melvin was my last relative,” she said.

  “Relative?” I asked.

  “Yes, we were cousins on our mothers’ side. I was so happy for him when he met Roselle. He’d been so lonely since his first wife died.” She sniggered another whiskey sour giggle. “Actually, that’s how I met my Georgie.” She gave him yet another flirty look and literally batted her eyelashes at him.

  “Melvin was so happy after he met Roselle that he insisted I visit the chat room where he’d met her, and that’s where I met Georgie.” She tipped the empty whiskey sour glass to her lips and flicked her tongue inside the rim. “Online. I met my Georgie online, and now I’m going to live happily ever after.”

  Mr. Carter stood and gently pulled Mrs. White’s chair out. “We’d best be heading back to Beaufort. The weather sounds worse outside.”

  “You’re still staying in Beaufort?” I asked.

  Pearl giggled. “Yes, Georgie’s such a sweetheart. We’re still staying in a bed and breakfast because he doesn’t want me to have to cook or clean.”

  “Good night,” George said and tried to nudge her away.

  Pearl turned back to me. “Online, Callie. That’s what you and Jane should do, find yourselves nice young men on the Internet, like I did.” She turned toward George. “Let me use your pen, Georgie.” He handed her a pen and she wrote something on the napkin at her place, folded it, and handed it to me. “This is the best place to go on the Internet to meet good people. It’s where Melvin met Roselle and where Georgie and I found each other.” I shoved the paper into my purse.