Tom thought of Mrs. Dresser’s screams again, and he frowned. “Probably didn’t want to accept their son was actually dying, so they kept putting it off.”
“Maybe.” Aaron opened the prep room door. “I’ll be sure to look out for Mrs. Dresser’s right hook, just in case.”
“Very funny,” Tom grumbled.
“Later.”
Once Aaron left, Tom finished washing Mr. Powell, rinsed him, and dried him off. The strong smell of disinfectant soap was a big improvement over all the poop. He put a diaper and a hospital gown on him, then pulled him over onto a dressing table to finish getting him ready for his viewing.
After he set his features, he put a pillow beneath his head, a thick blanket over top of him, and attached a special skirt that ran along the edge of the table to hide the wheels beneath.
As Tom washed off the embalming table, he decided this would be the perfect time to go talk to Cypress. He still couldn’t move Mrs. Winslow since her hair wasn’t done yet, and though Mr. Powell was ready, he wasn’t due up for a few more hours.
He threw his soiled personal protection equipment in the trash and returned to the office to find Earl. “Hey, I’m gonna take an early lunch. Is that okay?”
“Sure thing, Tommy.” Earl was on the phone but covered up the receiver to speak to him. “We all caught up back there?”
“Mr. Powell is ready to go, Mrs. Winslow just needs her hair done.”
“Damn, Miss Edie isn’t here yet?” Earl made a face and looked at the clock. “I’ll call her, make sure she hasn’t forgotten about us. Go on, go eat. We’ll hold down the fort.”
“Thanks.” Tom resisted the urge to outright sprint through the funeral home, his heart pounding and keys in hand as he hurried back outside to his car.
Confront Cypress while smelling amazing. Yup. He could totally do this.
Doyle’s Flowers wasn’t too far from the funeral home, only a few blocks away in the historic part of downtown in fact, and Tom was there in no time at all. It was housed inside the first floor of an elegant three-story Victorian home with the name delicately hand-painted across a front bay window.
Most of the old homes in this area had been converted into offices and retail spaces, though Tom didn’t see any signs for what the rest of the house hosted.
He parked right out on the curb and suddenly froze up, a streak of panic climbing up his spine.
What the hell was he thinking? He couldn’t walk right in there and demand Cypress give him the money back, could he? What if Cypress said no? What if he actually made good on his threat to call the cops?
He thought about potentially running into Junior later this afternoon and how angry he would be if he didn’t have the money.
His fear outweighed his anxiety, and he took a deep breath before getting out of the car. He marched up to the front door of the flower shop, a loud bell clanging as he stepped up inside.
The shop was small, full of shelves packed with hand-made gifts and several fresh arrangements on display. Tom was surprised by how much the smell reminded him of the funeral home; clean, sharp, but with a definite underlying perfume of old, rotten flowers.
There was a long counter with a register blocking access to the rear of the shop, and it was there that Cypress appeared, drawn by the ringing bell. He was wearing a snug t-shirt that made his arms look fantastic, fitted jeans, and a green apron.
“Hey, Tom,” Cypress said, smiling brightly. “Huh. Wasn’t expecting to see you until I swung by to make my deliveries. What’s up?”
“I know you took the money, and I need you to give it back.” Tom kept his voice calm and his head high. “Right now.”
“Oh, did I?” Cypress’s smile grew. “Are you sure about that?”
“Yes.” Tom gritted his teeth. “And I’m not leaving until you give it back.”
“Don’t you wanna know why I took it?” Cypress asked, casually walking from around the counter toward Tom.
“I don’t know. The same reason anyone takes money?” Tom glared up at Cypress as he got closer. The urge to pull him into a kiss was almost impossible to resist. “To spend it on something dumb? Maybe that’s how you get your kicks?”
“Mmm, I think you already know how I like to get ‘my kicks,’” Cypress teased, breezing right by Tom to the front door.
“I’m not going anywhere until you give me the money,” Tom warned, thinking Cypress was about to try and kick him out. “If you really wanna talk about it, we can, but I can’t tell you everything. I’m sorry, I can’t, but you’ve got to understand I have to get that money back.”
Cypress flipped the sign on the front door from open to closed, turning back to face Tom with a wicked smile. “Oh, we’re definitely gonna talk, don’t worry about that. The very first thing up for discussion is gonna be how I’m going to decide to punish you.”
