A Rose From the Dead Read Online Free PDF

together in Vietnam, then came back and opened a mortuary and crematorium. They made quite a name for themselves by offering free cremations for veterans. Billingsworth and Blount. They were highly respected in the industry.”
    “My uncle was cremated there,” Marco said. “He was a Korean War veteran. I remember seeing the Billingsworth and Blount names etched in the urn that sat on my aunt’s coffee table.”
    I wrinkled my nose. “She kept the urn on her coffee table?”
    “She said he rested his feet there, so why not all of him?”
    “You’re making that up,” I said. Marco winked, so I didn’t know whether it was true.
    “It was a brilliant marketing strategy,” Max said. “It helped them become the biggest name in northeastern Indiana. The colonel is retired now—he left the business when Sybil’s husband passed away last February—but he stayed on as president of the Midwestern Funeral Directors’ Association.”
    “You’ll have to ask him to show you his Purple Heart,” Delilah said to Marco. “He got it for an injury he suffered in ’Nam. He always wears it on his suit coat. He’s so proud of it. He even has one of those customized license plates that says, ‘PRPL HRT.’”
    “He’s so patriotic,” Max said, “that his cell phone plays ‘America the Beautiful.’”
    Marco seemed impressed, and it took a lot to impress him.
    “When it comes to the funeral business, the colonel is strictly old-school,” Max said. “Suits and ties are required attire, and rules must be followed. He has no tolerance for the Urban twins’ practical jokes. His three sons are models of professionalism, basically younger versions of himself, all running their own funeral homes. If he could find a legitimate way to ban the Urban boys from these conventions, he’d do it in a minute.”
    “One of these days those two young men will pull something on the wrong person,” Delilah cautioned, “and then they’ll get their comeuppance.”
    Marco glanced at me, and I knew he was waiting for me to tell them my phone-booth story. Right. Like I wanted to revisit that embarrassment.
    My cell phone rang, and I heard my assistant Lottie’s big, cheerful voice on the other end. “Hey, sweetie, I’m in the parking lot with the flowers. Can you lend a hand?”
    “We’ll be right there.” I slipped the phone in my pocket and said to Marco, “The flowers are here. You want to saddle up, Mr. Mule?”
    “Bring your flowers through the service entrance,” Max said. “It’s faster.” He pointed us in the right direction.
    I grabbed my jean jacket and slipped it on as we skirted the outside of the cavernous exhibition hall to reach the back hallway, passing a kitchen, the men’s and ladies’ restrooms, and a storage room, where I came to a sudden stop. I backed up to peer through the doorway. At least two dozen decorated caskets filled the room, leaving only a few feet of space around the perimeter, where metal shelving stacked with boxes, tools, and equipment lined the walls.
    “Come take a look, Marco. This is where they’re storing the entries for the themed casket contest.”
    “The what?”
    “Casket contest. Didn’t you see the flyer on the table? Let’s see if we can guess which one is Delilah’s.”
    “I’ll pass.”
    Intrigued, I stepped inside to see more. “Here’s one that looks like a race car, and there’s one that looks just like an iPod. How clever. And there’s one that looks like a piano keyboard. Someone even decked out this interior to look like a day at the beach, with real sand in the bottom. How crazy is that?”
    “See you later,” Marco called.
    “Spoilsport.” I hurried after him, exiting the building through a pair of heavy steel doors that opened onto the parking lot. About fifty yards west of us was the glass-fronted public entrance, which also faced the parking lot. Connected to the convention center was the Woodland Hotel, a five-story L-shaped structure that