Casket Case Read Online Free PDF Page A

to change clothes and take Big Boy out, I was running behind schedule. I didn’t want Odell to catch me slipping in late. I work for the Middleton twin brothers. Originally identical, Odell now outweighs Otis by about forty pounds because of his addiction to barbecue. Odell also shaves his head though Otis chose tinted hair implants when the brothers began balding. Otis is a vegetarian who tans himself two shades darker than Odell. Otis has offered use of the tanning bed he had installed at the mortuary to both Odell and me. I’ve never used it, and I don’t think Odell has either. Other differences between the two brothers include that Otis is always immaculate and usually soft-spoken. Odell shares neither of those characteristics.
    “Hey, Callie,” Odell called as I entered. I was glad I’d made it on time and saved him from having to look at his watch and give me a lecture on punctuality. “You won’t believe what’s going on,” he continued. “While you were gone to take Mr. Dawkins for his postmortem, we’ve had three calls. I can’t remember the last time business has been this good!” He grinned.
    I started to bypass my office and head straight to my workroom, but the telephone rang.
    “Middleton’s Mortuary,” I answered, “this is Callie Parrish. How may I help you?”
    “This is Dennis Sharpe. Can I speak to the embalmer?”
    “I’ll be happy to arrange to pick up the deceased for you,” I said, thinking what a smooth, melodic voice this man had. I have this thing about voices. A really smooth voice is more interesting to me than good looks, but this guy sounded like he had both.
    “No, I want to talk to an embalmer. By telephone or you can make me an appointment.” He cleared his throat. “Come to think of it, I’d rather come by. Can you schedule an appointment for me?”
    “Would you like to come in today?”
    “No, tomorrow’s better. Can I talk to an embalmer tomorrow morning?”
    “Yes, I’ll be glad to schedule that. How about ten o’clock?”
    “That’s fine.”
    “May I tell Mr. Middleton what the meeting will be about?”
    “No, just tell him Dennis Sharpe with Carefree Pets will be in to see him in the morning at ten.”
    He hung up, and I wrote the appointment on the message pad before hurrying into my workroom. With three clients, Otis or Odell probably had already embalmed, or in mortuary vernacular, “prepared” at least one of them.
    Sure enough, an elderly man lay on my work gurney with a sheet tucked in over his shoulders, up under his chin. I didn’t recognize him, but a note on the counter had a line drawing of a circle head with hair parted on the left and combed over the top. I read the note in Odell’s handwriting: “Callie, this is how Mr. Johnson’s family wants his hair combed. Clothes on the rack. Do not put polish on his nails, not even clear.”
    Like I’ve ever polished a man’s nails unless the family asked for it. I manicure male clients, but I only buff the nails. Never polish unless requested.
    A gray suit, white shirt, and red tie with blue stripes hung on the rack behind my worktable. Socks and shoes were lined up neatly beside the note. I removed the sheet and saw that whichever Middleton had prepped him had, as always, put underwear on the gentleman before bringing him to my area. White boxer shorts and T-shirt, compliments of Middleton’s Mortuary.
    Mr. Johnson’s skin had that pale, papery look that sometimes comes with age. I opened my kit and selected an appropriate shade of base makeup. Just as I finished applying the first coat to his face, neck, arms, and hands, Otis came in.
    “Hey, glad you’ve started. I just completed the next one and she’s gonna be hard. Nine-year-old girl with cancer. She’s still on my table. Mr. Johnson was preplanned, and the family came with the garments less than an hour after we picked him up. I’ll help you dress him, and we can casket him right away. I’ll be right back.”
    While I worked,