Casket Case (12 page)

As for me, Calamine Lotion Parrish, I have no intention of ever writing a chapter 13, and there is no way in a four-letter word that I will ever even read another book with “thirteen” in the title. (That is, unless Janet Evanovich gets up to 113. I’m kinda addicted to reading what happens to Stephanie Plum.)

Friday.
But not Friday the thirteenth. Friday, the twenty-first of June. Thirty-two years and 364 days since my birth.

Four fifty-three a.m. I sat on the front step of my apartment wearing my heart-printed nightie. Insomnia had plagued me all night, but my distressed rolling around hadn’t bothered Big Boy. He was inside, asleep and snoring.

Thank heaven he’d moved to the rug because he’d recently grown so large that when he plopped on his stomach on the bed and spread-eagled all four legs, there was hardly any room for me. But this night, thoughts, not Big Boy’s legs or snoring, had crowded me out of the bed.

The moon was full—a big round yellow balloon in the sky. A childhood song played in my head.
I see the moon; the moon sees me. God bless the moon, and God bless me.
Just as the rhyme ended in my mind, a dark shadow crossed, blocking out the golden orb. An eclipse? Were we having a lunar eclipse? The blackness moved too fast for an eclipse. I wasn’t watching any great astronomical event, just clouds. Sometimes my thought processes amaze me, not always in good ways.

St. Mary needed rain, especially local farmers, but I hoped any rain would be during the morning hours. Frank, Bill, and Mike planned to move Jane from her garage apartment that afternoon. The thought of Jane living next door should have brightened my spirits, but I was smothered in a dark haze.

I didn’t know what had me in such a mood unless it was Dr. Melvin’s death. I’d cosmetized people I knew in the past, but not anyone I’d felt as close to as Dr. Melvin. I expected him back from Charleston and ready for me by the afternoon.

Otis and Odell would be pleased for the pharmacist to be returned to Middleton’s. They both panic anytime there’s no one in a prep room or a slumber room, and right then, we had no clients at the mortuary. The little girl, Angie, had been sent to Connecticut. The reinterment of the grandmother awaited even more permits and paperwork.

Unless a call came in, the only work for me today was making Dr. Melvin look good if he came back from Charleston. I needed to think in terms of doing my best for him, regardless of what I thought of his young wife and how many questions kept creeping into my mind about his death.

Jane had said that I “attracted” murder, and I didn’t want to think anyone had killed Dr. Melvin, but it didn’t sound right that the autopsy hadn’t shown the cause of death. Sheriff Harmon had mentioned waiting on toxicology reports. I hoped Dr. Melvin hadn’t been poisoned or drugged to death.

I glanced at my watch again and wondered if it were too early to make coffee. Pondered going back to bed and trying to catch an hour of sleep. I looked back at the sky. Clouds now blacked out the stars as well as the moon. I decided not to make coffee yet, but to get a Moon Pie and a glass of milk. Just as I stood, the skies opened. I was totally drenched before I even got back under the porch ceiling.

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.

“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.