up the walkway. A sign that read Lou’s Funeral Parlor stood in front of the house.
“Imagine having a baby and naming it Lou,” I said.
“Imagine naming your funeral home after somebody,” Karter said. “Like, ‘Guess what, Lou? We named the place where we embalm dead people after you.’ ”
“It’s so sweet,” I said sarcastically.
We both laughed, but it was only to shake off the nerves. Karter was creeped out about the funeral home itself and so was I, but after what I’d seen with Marie, I was worried this guy was going to be a werewolf or something. I was not prepared for that.
The funeral home was run out of an old Victorian with a perfectly manicured lawn. Two enormous weeping willows flanked the walkway. Curtains of leaves swayed in the breeze. They brushed against me as I passed by and went up the front steps. A hand-lettered sign next to the door read Please Come In. I turned the handle and pushed open the door.
A bouquet of white carnations sat on a small table in the entryway. To the left was a sitting room full of comfy-looking recliners and couches. To the right was a bigger room with folding chairs set up in rows. At the front of the room was a low platform. On it, an open coffin.
“Oh no,” Karter said. “There’s a body in there.”
Someone with dark hair and a red blouse lay inside. Bouquets of roses and tulips were arranged all around the casket. A stand-up arrangement in the shape of a heart stood at the foot end. The pink roses adorning it had begun to brown and curl at the edges. I stepped into the room.
“What are you doing?” Karter asked in a hushed tone.
“That arrangement is jacked up,” I said. Mom would never have let half-dead roses get delivered to a funeral home for a service—or anywhere, for that matter. “I can’t leave it like that.”
The center aisle that led to the coffin was lined with bushels of carnations and white football mums. They were fresh and plump and barely moved as I walked by. Karter followed close behind. When I got to the coffin, I looked inside. An older woman lay there, her head resting on a white satin pillow.
I’d been to a few funerals in my life. The last one was for Mom’s great-aunt Bernice. There were kids at the service and they were scared to death. One of their parents told them that Bernice would look like she was sleeping. That wasn’t true. Dead people never looked like they were sleeping. The woman in the coffin didn’t look like she was resting peacefully either. She looked like a wax figure.
Stiff.
Dead.
I ran my fingers over the wilting petals of the arrangement at the foot of the coffin. The roses regained their shape and color under my touch.
“That’s quite a talent,” said a voice.
I spun around, nearly knocking over the flower arrangement. Karter jumped up onto the platform, but his foot slipped and crashed into the base of the coffin. I grabbed the side of the casket to steady it.
A tall, gangly man stood in the doorway. He wore khakis and a button-up shirt, the sleeves rolled to the elbow. He was so pale I could see the spiderweb of blue veins running underneath his skin as he strode to the platform. A scattering of white-blond hair stretched across the top of his head. He reminded me of Lurch from The Addams Family. His gaze passed over the flower arrangement. “It looks much better.”
“I’m Briseis Greene,” I said quickly. “Marie gave me this address. She said there would be a man here who might be able to help me.”
An angry scowl stretched across his face. “Marie Morris?”
“Yes,” I said.
“That troglodyte is giving out my personal information now, is she?”
He was angry. Like, irrationally angry. “Wanna bring it down a notch?” I asked.
Marie had been irritated when she’d given me his name and address, but this guy looked like he was going to blow out his neck vein at any moment.
“Might be the wrong time to bring this up, but what’s a troglodyte?” Karter asked.
“It’s Marie,” said the man. “Marie is a troglodyte.” The man turned his attention to me, and something like recognition flashed in his eyes. The lines in his deeply creased forehead softened. He took a step toward me, and I took a step back. Karter was frozen where he stood.
“Who are you?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper, no