Tonight was the first visitation he’d worked in a week, and he’d be headed over to Cypress’s house as soon as it was over. The family was very nice, but they did have a peculiar request: They wanted seven vases to divide up the casket spray before the burial so each of the seven daughters could keep some of the flowers.
Luckily, Tom knew just who to call.
Cypress thought it was odd, but he agreed to find seven vases and said he’d head that way soon. He’d even try to find seven that matched.
The family was so grateful Tom was able to help them that he had to stand there and take seven very tearful hugs, each daughter determined to squeeze more life out of him than the last.
When he was finally able to free himself, he retreated to the front door away from the chapel where everyone was gathered. He took a deep breath and tried to fix his tie, certainly rumpled from all the hugging. He heard someone approaching, turning around to see Mr. Crosby walking over to him.
“Hey, Tom!” he said cheerfully.
“Hey, sir.” Tom reached out to shake his hand. “I didn’t know you were still here.”
“Ah, just popping in to see how the services are going. That was very kind of you.”
“Huh?”
“I was in the break room, and Miss Wheel was getting more ice. She told me about the vases.” Mr. Crosby beamed at him proudly. “Going above and beyond to make a family happy? Mm, you would make a fine director, Tom.”
“Thank you, Mr. Crosby,” Tom said with a gracious smile. “I really appreciate that, but, you know, my heart is in the back.”
“I understand. My old mentor, William Babb, the greatest man I’ve ever known and the finest embalmer that ever picked up a scalpel, was like that. Didn’t much care for the living.”
“No?”
“Not a bit,” Mr. Crosby chuckled. “He hated waiting on families. He was good at it, mind you. He was good at everything, but his passion was in the prep room like you. The dead don’t lie, he’d say, but the living do.”
“Sounds like a very wise man.”
“We should hopefully have someone starting next week, you know.”
“That’s great, Mr. Crosby.” Tom didn’t put much stock into that statement since he’d said the same thing last week and the week before that.
“And by the way,” Mr. Crosby said cheerfully, “I was getting caught up on the inventory while you were gone, and I noticed the oddest thing. I’ve been meaning to ask you about it.”
“Oh?” Tom’s stomach dropped.
“It looks like there were some, let’s say, some inconsistencies being covered up,” Mr. Crosby said, still sounding quite upbeat. “Seems like it had been going on for some time, whole cases of fluid vanishing away.”
He knows! Shit, shit, shit!
There was a perfect moment of clarity when Mr. Crosby looked at Tom and said very sternly, “But since Junior and Aaron are gone now, that’s not going to be a problem again, is it?”
“Uh, no. Nope. No, sir.” Tom wanted to melt into the floor. “Definitely not, sir. I promise you.”
“Good.” Mr. Crosby was very pleased, and the firm countenance vanished. “Well, you take care now. Goodbye, Tom.”
“Bye,” Tom said, waving weakly as he watched Mr. Crosby stroll away. He had broken out in a sweat, reaching for his handkerchief to wipe off his face. He didn’t even notice someone walking up to him from the chapel.
“Hey—”
“Shit!” Tom jumped when he felt a hand on his arm, turning to see Cypress standing next to him. “You scared the crap out of me!”
“Sorry.” Cypress laughed. “I didn’t mean to. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, sorry about that.” Tom sighed loudly. “I’m starting to think maybe Mr. Crosby isn’t as crazy as everyone thinks he is.”
“No?”
