Icing on the Casket

by Catherine Bruns

  Arthur proudly stuck his nose into the air. "Only that I'm better than Eddie. The place always did well, even when my father owned it. I don't know why there are losses being reported, but it doesn't matter. I've got enough money and am confident I can turn the place around."

  "Can I ask what you do for income now, Mr. Phib—err, Arthur?"

  He cocked an eyebrow at me. "Sure, you can ask. I have nothing to hide. There's money left over from my deceased wife's estate. I've made some good investments over time and am ready to sink some serious dough into the place. Sort of like what you do here—get it? Dough?"

  Arthur must have thought I'd never heard that expression before. I smiled politely. "How long did Eddie have a gambling problem?"

  He shrugged. "Oh, I'm really not sure. Linda told me about it. If you must know, we weren't exactly close the last few years, ever since our father died. I mean, we talked occasionally, but that was the extent of it."

  "Did it surprise you to find out?" I asked.

  He shifted from one foot to the other uncomfortably. "Sure. I mean, I guess. My brother was never the type to take risks before. He was all about the sure things in life. Eddie liked to play it safe."

  Arthur's attitude on the subject was vague, and something wasn't adding up. Everyone seemed surprised that the funeral home had been in dire straits. No one knew much about Eddie's gambling problem or the theft of jewelry. My father had insisted that Eddie was an honest businessman, and Charlene had reiterated the same.

  For someone who had always tried to play it safe, Eddie had been cheated big-time in the game of life.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  My mother and Grandma Rosa were seated at the kitchen table when I dropped Cookie off an hour later. "Is Dad taking a nap in his coffin?" I asked.

  My mother put down the Cosmopolitan magazine she'd been reading and refilled her coffee cup. "No. He's upstairs lying down because he's not feeling well. I hope it's not the flu."

  Grandma Rosa, who was bouncing Cookie on her knee, grunted. "Perhaps it is the three pieces of cheesecake that he ate earlier. If that man had one more bite, he would have busted a move."

  "I think you mean gut, Grandma."

  She shrugged. "I like that too."

  I placed two bottles in the fridge for Cookie when my father's voice boomed from up above. "Is that my baby girl? Both my baby girls?"

  "Sal's getting ready to leave, sweetheart," my mother called and then turned to me. "Where'd you say you were going? I thought you and Mike were coming to dinner."

  I hesitated. Even if my father wasn't feeling well, he still might want to tag along to the funeral home, and I preferred that it only be Josie and me. "To run a quick errand. Mike's working late, but he'd love it if you'd save him some lasagna. It will just be Cookie and me for dinner."

  My father appeared in the kitchen doorway, holding a bottle of Pepto-Bismol in one hand and his cell in the other. His face was pale, and his eyes looked glassy. He held out his phone to me. "I think you'll want to take this."

  "Who is it?" I asked.

  "Terry Phibbins. Linda and Eddie's son. He finally returned my call."

  I took the phone from my father's outstretched hand and walked into the living room with him following. "Hello, Mr. Phibbins? This is Sally Donovan, Domenic's daughter. I'm sorry for your loss."

  "Thank you," a deep male voice replied. "Forgive me, but I'm not really clear as to why your father keeps calling me."

  "Dad was a friend of your father," I explained. "He's looking into his death, and I'm helping."

  There was a pause on the other end. "I thought Domenic ran some kind of morgue-related blog. My father mentioned it once. I didn't realize you were both detectives,"

  "Actually, I'm—no, we're not. You see, I've been involved in a couple of murder investigations before, so Dad asked if I'd help him." A second too late, I realized how peculiar this must have sounded but continued rambling on. "I'm sorry you weren't able to make it home for your father's funeral."

  "Look, Mrs. Donovan. If you must know, my father and I weren't close. I feel awful about what's happened, but my mother understands that I can't be there, and she's fine with it."

  "That's not why I wanted to speak with you." It wasn't any of my business, but I couldn't fathom how an only child wouldn't travel home for his father's funeral, despite their differences. Nothing would have stopped me from making the trip. It was a matter of respect as far as I was concerned, but everyone might not feel the same way. "Are you close with your mother?"

  Terry sighed impatiently. "Yes. We talk weekly. She and I aren't of the same mindsight as my father. We never have been. Mom can't stand the funeral business, and to be honest, it's always given me the creeps. Growing up, my dad worked side by side with my grandfather, and I was expected to help at times. Little things like opening the door for viewers, then watching him embalm and such. I hated everything about the place, and my friends always teased me to no end. I mean, how would you feel if your father drove you to school in a hearse every day? Oh, never mind. I'm sure you have no idea what it's like."

  I glanced over at my father, who was downing half the bottle of Pepto-Bismol. "Try me. You might be surprised."

  "I'm sorry?"

  I wasn't going there. "Never mind. Mr. Phibbins, err, Terry, my father and I thought you might be able to give us information that would help determine who killed your father."

  "Haven't you talked to my mother?" Terry sounded surprised.

  "Yes. She thinks it may have been one of your father's employees, but no one's been able to prove anything. I wondered if you had some insight."

  He was silent for a beat. "No, I don't. This has been a horrible experience for her. She only wants to sell the place and be done with it all."

  "I can understand that, especially since it wasn't doing well."

  "Wait a second. The funeral home is having money problems?"

  "You didn't know?" I asked in disbelief.

  "My mother never said a word." Terry's voice took on a suspicious note. "Why does my uncle want to buy the place if it's not profitable?"

  I clutched the phone tighter in my hand. "That's what I was wondering. This sounds terrible, but do you think that your uncle could be responsible for his death?"

  "No," he said sharply. "I can't believe Uncle Arthur would do that to my father. I mean, it's his brother, for crying out loud. His flesh and blood. Sorry, I just don't see it."

  Sadly, I could. I'd seen relatives, siblings, and spouses all commit the deed before. "He wanted the funeral home badly," I said carefully. "Now he finally has what he wants."

  "It has to be someone else." He cursed under his breath. "Now I wish I'd come out last month like I'd planned. See, I was in a wedding for a friend who got married in New York City. I thought about stopping to see my parents for a couple of days, but Mom said it wasn't a good time. I just assumed that they were busy and left it at that."

  The piece of paper Charlene mentioned earlier came to mind. "Your father was upset with someone shortly before he died. One of his employees overheard him talking on the phone to someone, asking them how they could do such a thing. Any idea who it might have been?"

  "What about the guy who was stealing my father's property? Walt or Wally something. Maybe it was him."

  "Sure, that's possible." If we knew what the document was Eddie had been holding, it might lead us to his killer. "What about your father's gambling problem?"

  Terry barked out a laugh. "You've got to be kidding me. My father has never had a gambling problem. Jeepers, he found me playing cards with some friends when I was fifteen and grounded me for six months. Dad said it was sinful and I should be ashamed of myself. You must be thinking of someone else."

  Okay, this was odd. I tried another direction. "Did your father ever teach you or your mother to do embalming??"

  "Yes, I knew how, but I hated it. Just like I hated everything else about the business. As for my mother, no. Dad tried to teach her once
, and she passed out. It's not for the faint of heart."

  I believed him.

  Terry spoke to someone in the background. "Look, I'm sorry, but my wife and I have dinner plans with her boss, and we're already running late. I'll give Mom a call and see if she's got any information that may help."

  "That's not necessary—" Before I could say anything further, Terry clicked off.

  My father was watching me with a concerned expression on his usually jovial-looking face. "What do you think, baby girl?" he asked.

  I handed the phone back to him. "I think I'm confused. Someone's lying, Dad, but who? Did Eddie have a gambling problem or not? If Eddie wasn't stealing from his clients, someone else was doing it. What if he found out and confronted them? Maybe that's why the funeral home was doing poorly." I thought about the document Charlene had seen him holding. "Did Eddie take out a second mortgage on the funeral home?"

  Dad shrugged. "I doubt it. He was so proud of the fact that the place was paid off."

  Grandma Rosa came into the living room, followed by my mother, who was holding Cookie. "Are you sure about that?" I asked.

  "Positive," he said. "Of course, that was his father's doing. It was paid off before he took ownership." He gazed at me thoughtfully. "Seems to me that someone did Eddie wrong, he found out, and they killed him before he could make trouble."

  "It's a good theory." I gave Cookie a kiss on the tip of her nose. "I need to leave, but I'll be back in about an hour."

  My mother spoke up. "Grandma's going to church, so I'll stay here with Cookie. We'll eat as soon as you both get back."

  "Sounds good." Cookie started to giggle, and I remembered Mike's comment how her face lit up whenever she saw me. Her smile was brighter than a ray of sunshine, and it tugged at my heart. Something told me that I shouldn't leave her, but maybe it was just me being overprotective. She was perfectly safe here, and I would be fine too. After all, Josie was coming to meet me.

  As I dug my keys out of my purse, I addressed my father. "Do you still happen to have a key to Phibbins?"

  He took it off his keyring and handed it to me. "I'm not sure this is still good. Linda said that Arthur was going to change the locks this week."

  "Wow, Arthur moves fast."

  Grandma Rosa sniffed. "Something is rotten in the state of Denver."

  "That's Denmark, Grandma."

  She looked puzzled. "Since when is Denmark a state?"

  My father snorted. "Something's rotten, for sure. When I talked to Linda on the phone this morning, she said that Arthur was eager to start the transfer. I'm not sure how it could happen so fast, but maybe they'll do it on the honor system for now."

  "If the place is free and clear of debt and the will's been read, I'm guessing she could do as she pleases." I shifted from one foot to the other, trying to decide what to do next. If the locks had been changed, was there still a way for me to get in? "Do you think Zach might be there? I need to have a quick talk with him."

  My father checked his watch. "It's possible. I mean, the old codger practically lives there." His face suddenly contorted with pain. "Sorry but I think you'll have to go without your old man, baby girl. My Pepto just kicked in."

  Ew. "It's okay, Dad."

  "Poor sweetie," my mother crooned. "He's been under so much stress lately."

  "Let me know what you find out." Dad made a beeline for the stairs. He didn't need to know that I intended to break into Eddie's office if necessary. My father might not appreciate that information.

  After giving my baby daughter another kiss, I headed for the front door and felt a hand on my shoulder. My grandmother was standing there watching me, concern etched into her face. The fine wrinkles that surrounded her dark brown eyes were more apparent than usual as she regarded me in silence. She picked up a light sweater and followed me out to the driveway.

  "What's wrong?" I asked.

  "Cara mia, I hope you know what you are doing."

  Her perception never ceased to amaze me. "I'm just having a talk with Zach. Besides, Josie will be there. Please don't worry."

  "But I always worry. Danger follows you. Keep Josie close."

  "I will."

  She blew me a kiss as I walked over to my car, parked on the street. Grandma Rosa was still standing beside her Buick in the driveway, her eyes trained on me, as I drove away. For once, I hoped that her instincts would prove wrong.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Nagging questions filled my brain as I drove through town to the funeral home. Linda had gone against her husband's wishes and sold the place…to her brother-in-law of all people. Eddie's nemesis. Sure, I understood she needed the money. But it looked like she'd lied about his gambling problem. Was the business really in dire straits? How was I to know for sure?

  A tax return from last year or the previous year might help. And there was a good chance I might find them in Eddie's office.

  Had Linda done away with Eddie? It didn't seem plausible since she couldn't embalm. She hated everything about the funeral home. The evidence was clearly pointing at Charlene, but it seemed like a convenient setup. Personally, I believed what she'd told Gianna and me. She'd been fond of Eddie and heartbroken by his death. Okay, maybe a bit too fond of him. Then there was Wally, who'd stolen from Eddie and blamed him for his pathetic life. Zach resented Eddie for his demotion, and that left Arthur, who had everything to gain from his brother's death.

  The parking lot of Phibbins Mortuary was deserted. I circled the area and then parked my car across the street in front of Starbucks. It would look more conspicuous in an empty lot if say…Arthur happened to drive by or, worse, stop in. I glanced at my watch. Five thirty. Traffic was light for this time of day, but then I remembered it was Good Friday. The Catholic population was high in Colwestern, so a good majority of our townspeople were at church right now, my grandmother included.

  I sent Josie a text. At the funeral home. When will you be here?

  After a couple of minutes, I received a reply. Sorry. Should be leaving here in about ten minutes. Woman just came in with a huge order, and then I got one for a wedding cake. On my way soon.

  I alighted from the car and crossed the street, making sure to go around to the rear entrance since there was no camera located there. I tapped at the door. No answer. I peered through one of the windows, but the inside was dark. Perfect. Still, I hesitated for a moment. It wasn't really breaking and entering since I had a key, right? This might be my only chance to get inside the building since Arthur was going to change the locks any day. Holding my breath, I inserted the key, and it fit perfectly. For once, things were going as planned, or so I thought.

  A loud beeping noise immediately resonated through the walls. Oh crap. I'd forgotten about the alarm!

  Frantic, I rushed over to the panel, located on the wall outside of Eddie's office. What was the code? My mind was drawing a blank, and I started to panic. Wait a second. My father had been about to tell Brian the code after Eddie's body was discovered. It was his birthday. What was the date? Fourth of July! Good grief, I hoped it didn't include a year. I entered zero, seven, zero, four. Nothing. I was running out of time and frantically entered seven, zero, four. Thankfully, the beeping stopped immediately. Mentally spent, I exhaled a huge sigh of relief.

  I hurried down the hall to the front of the building. I glanced out the window for a full view of the lot, but it was empty. The glass pane in the front door had already been replaced from the firecracker incident. Erring on the side of caution, I checked every room, but no one was in there hiding. When I peeked inside Charlene's work area, I noticed there was a casket with the lid up. A man's body was lying inside. "Excuse me," I whispered and shut the door.

  After I'd convinced myself that no one else was here, I opened the door to Eddie's office. There were several cardboard boxes stacked against the wall. It looked like Linda was cleaning out. I sat behind the desk and hesitated. Should I have brought gloves? No, the police had already searched the place, so I should
be safe.

  The middle drawer was locked, and I cursed under my breath. All this trouble for nothing. I checked the drawers on the right-hand side. The top one was also locked, but the bottom drawer, noticeably deeper, slid right open, and then I noticed why. A manila folder was wedged in the side and, as a result, had kept it from closing all the way.

  Several other manila folders were lined up in the metal frame, and I let my fingers do the walking through each one. There were invoices, copious notes about what type of services clients wanted for their loved ones, and tax returns. Bingo. The most recent one had been filed in February, two months earlier. I studied the document with interest. I was no accountant, but it was easy to see on the Schedule C that Eddie had made a sizeable profit last year. How interesting. Why had Linda lied?

  Another folder contained complaint letters from three families about their loved one's valuables. All of them threatened Phibbins Mortuary with legal action. Eddie had written a letter in return to one family, claiming he had nothing to do with the theft. I wasn't sure if it was a copy from one he'd already mailed or the original. Maybe he'd had second thoughts and decided to let his lawyer handle it. Two of the letters were dated the week before Eddie's death, so it was possible that the families hadn't had a chance to act on them yet.

  My cell phone rang at that moment, startling me so badly that I slammed the door shut on my finger. I shook my hand out in pain and withdrew the phone from my jeans pocket. Gianna. "Hi. I'm a little busy right now—"

  Gianna broke in, her voice quavering with excitement. "Sal, I found out something you'll want to know about in Eddie's will."

  "You got a copy?" I asked hopefully.

  "Let's just say that Roger Dudley, Eddie's attorney, returned my call after the reading today. He didn't read me the entire document, but he did fill me in on the most important part. You'll never guess who inherited the funeral home."

  I stared at the phone, puzzled. "Linda said it was left to her."