Chapter Four

The Verbena Free Press

October 7

By Desiree Turner

City Council News and Notes

On October 6, Verbena City Council named the second week in April Verbena Safety Week and all voted in favor of Ms. Lombardi’s fifth grade class’s petition to name the double chocolate chip muffin the official muffin of Verbena. A letter from Kecia Wilcox was read into the record. Ms. Wilcox visited Verbena’s sister city, Qufu, China. She liked all the bicycles, but China was more humid than she expected.

Bids were officially submitted by the Sterling Company, Winters Construction, Canty Construction, and Montgomery Construction Company for the contract to build new bathrooms in four of Verbena’s parks. Fumiko Winters of Winters Construction said, “I feel like our bid is highly competitive. We’d bring fresh ideas to Verbena. Canty Construction renovated the Civic Center here and paved the Senior Center parking lot. I think Verbena’s ready for some new blood.”

The council will review the bids and vote on them in a special closed-door meeting on October 8.

*   *   *

I slept late the next day. I’d been up until the wee hours waiting for the window repair people. Orion and I had huddled together in the Element to keep warm. How had I survived all this time without a dog? How was I going to survive once he was gone? I needed to figure out a way to keep him around. If I could make Donna understand how useful he was beyond not having to sweep the kitchen floor nearly as often, I’d have a shot. Maybe I could get him to sit on her feet while she watched television. Her toes were always like ice cubes.

I’d only just finished drinking my coffee and eating breakfast when the doorbell rang. We don’t get a lot of drop-ins at Turner. People usually call first to make an appointment. Plus it was Saturday. I assumed it was a friend. It didn’t occur to me not to let Orion trot at my heels when I answered the door rather than putting him some place so he wouldn’t disturb a client. We trotted down the stairs from our living quarters and I opened the extra wide front door.

The woman who stood in front of me was my age, maybe even a little bit younger. She had on Lycra biking shorts, the kind with the big pad in the seat, and a biking jersey that had a picture of Rosie the Riveter with the slogan “We Can Do It!” on it. She was also clearly devastated. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, her face blotchy. “May I help you?” I asked.

She fell into my arms and sobbed against my shoulder.

I guided her inside, her biking shoes clicking on the hardwood, and into the Lilac Room where we have some couches for people to sit on while they make their decisions. It is well stocked with tissues. Always. Keeping the tissue supply steady and swapping out the magazines and newspapers had been my first job at Turner back when I was in fourth grade. Dad paid me a dollar a week for it. I guided her to a couch, snatched up a cough drop that apparently Daisy Fiore must have dropped when she sat here last, helped my biker girl sit down, and handed her a box of tissues.

She blew her nose. “Sorry,” she choked out.

“Don’t be,” I said. “Crying is pretty normal and it’s way better than keeping it all bottled up.” Whether it was normal to show up in bike gear to cry at a funeral home was another question, but I figured we’d get to that.

Orion went over to her and laid his chin on her leg. Her hand dropped to his head and he licked it. “Ohhhh,” she gasped out.

I was about to drag him away, when she slid off the couch onto the floor next to him and buried her face in his fur. As she cried, he placed one paw on her leg and left it there, resting gently.

It took her a few minutes, but she finally calmed down enough to speak. “I didn’t know you had a therapy dog,” she said. “It’s not on your website. You should totally tell people. I wouldn’t have even looked at any of the other places if I’d known.”

I looked at Orion as he sat next to her, leaning the bulk of his body against her and letting her hold on for dear life. “To be honest, I didn’t know we had a therapy dog either. We’re just taking care of him for a little while for someone.”

“Oh,” she said, brushing at the tears on her cheeks. “Then he’s a natural.”

As intrigued as I was with the idea of Orion as a therapy dog, I felt we probably had some other business. “So what can I help you with? What brings you here today?”

My questions set off another bout of crying, but it was less violent this time. Orion stayed right where he was next to her. “It’s my Blaine. He’s … he’s gone.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said. I reached out and put my hand on her shoulder, wondering why on earth she’d opted to bike here to make arrangements.

“Thanks. The people at the hospital, they said I needed to make arrangements.” She had a hard time choking out that last word. “Your name was on a list of places they had. It was the only one I could bike to.”

I wasn’t sure I’d heard that correctly. “You biked here directly from the hospital?”

She nodded. “Blaine and I were out for a ride. We were going down the big hill over by the dam. He must have hit a rock or a pothole or something because all of the sudden he was flying over his handlebars.” Her chin wobbled. “I told him not to take off his helmet, but he said he just had to feel the wind in his hair.”

My heart clutched. The hill down from the dam was known as Heart Attack Hill to local cyclists, of which we had quite a few. It was seriously steep. The heart attacks came from trying to climb it. Going downhill was supposed to be fun. Usually it was smooth, but apparently not always. “You were there?” I asked. I cringed thinking about it.

“Right behind him.” She blew her nose again. “Can you help me? Can you … can you pick him up?”

It was the absolute least we could do. “Of course we can. Do you want us to make arrangements with some place closer to where you live?”

She shook her head. “No. That’s okay. I … I just want him cremated. No service or anything else. Can you do that?”

“Of course we can.” I pulled out the folder of information and handed it to her. “Let’s go over some of your choices here.”

Once Annamarie, that was her name, knew all of her choices, we went through the process of filling out all the paperwork. “How are you going to get home?” I asked.

She gave me a funny look and looked down at her clothes and shoes. “I’ll bike.”

“Isn’t Oak Pass at least fifty miles from here?” I wouldn’t be able to walk after I’d ridden fifty miles, much less figure out how to grieve my husband who had died right before my eyes. “I could give you a ride.” I was sure Donna and Uncle Joey would say it was okay and her bike could easily go in the back of the Element.

She nodded. “I’m sure. It’ll give me time to process. You’ll let me know when he’s ready for me to pick up?”

I stood up to go downstairs and let Uncle Joey know we had a pickup at the hospital, but I still felt uneasy. “Of course. Are you sure we can’t call someone to give you a ride or something?”

She shook her head. “No, but can I sit here with Orion for a little bit longer?”

“Take all the time you need.”

I stepped out to give her some privacy, then pulled out my phone and pulled up the search engine. I typed in “how to train a therapy dog.”

*   *   *

Writing an obituary was a great way of getting to know someone, as long as you didn’t mind them not being around to actually know. I was the official obituary writer at Turner Family Funeral Home. Cousin Lizette hadn’t actually asked me to take care of the task for Violet, but it was generally part of the whole package. I’d be doing my job and finding out a bit more about Violet. Maybe there’d be an explanation of how she’d ended up with so much insulin in her system that she’d passed out and had a seizure.

I’d looked her up on social media. Her Facebook page mainly had shares of dog memes. She was a member of a lot of different groups: one for only-children, one for people with puppies, one for Zumba enthusiasts, one for Italian cooking, one for amateur photographers. She liked purple. She liked her dog. That wasn’t much. I decided to drop by Greg’s office to see what her coworkers might say about her. It was also a great excuse for finding out a bit more about who hated her enough to possibly orchestrate her car accident. Greg hadn’t wanted to talk about her. Maybe there was a reason for that. He wasn’t one to spread gossip. Whatever. Everyone has their failings.

I parked on Sparrow Street, took Orion for a spin around the gazebo to stretch his legs, and then went to the You’re Covered Insurance Agency on Oriole. No one heard the chime over the door tinkle as we walked in because there was a burst of applause as I opened the door. I looked around to see what I’d done, but then realized it wasn’t for me. Most of the staff was gathered around an area in the back of the office, and people were clapping for something back there.

I found Greg standing on the edge of the group and walked up next to him. “Hi, Greg. What’s going on?” I asked, keeping my voice low so as not to interrupt the party.

“Oh, hey, Desiree. Rachel got a promotion. We’re congratulating her.” Greg pointed to a pink-faced young woman of about thirty who stood in the middle of the group, beaming.

“Good for her! Congratulations, Rachel!” I called out.

Rachel turned to me and waved. “Do you want a piece of cake?” she offered.

I was about to say yes, but out of the corner of my eye I saw Greg give me a teensy tiny head shake.

“Uh, no thanks,” I said. Was I getting fat? I patted my hips. “Watching my weight, you know.”

“Oh, this has hardly any calories. It’s vegan, sugar-free, and gluten-free.” She lifted the plate toward me.

I looked over at Greg whose eyebrows had climbed up his forehead. “Oh, I really couldn’t,” I said.

I sidled over to the side of the group and Greg sidled with me. “Thanks for the heads up.”

“No problem. It’s like eating cardboard. They suck you in with those pretty icing flowers. It’s kind of evil. But it’s what Rachel wanted. She could never eat the cake before.” He looked down sadly at his plate. “So what are you doing here? You didn’t just drop in to say hello, did you?”

“No. I was hoping someone might give me some material to put in Violet’s obituary.” I leaned against his desk.

Greg pursed his lips. “This might not be the exact right moment to ask.” He gave a head nod toward the front and started walking. I followed him.

“What’s up?” I asked, keeping my voice low.

“Rachel is being promoted into Violet’s old position. It would be weird to talk about Violet when we’re all so happy for Rachel,” he said.

“Because people are also going to miss Violet and you don’t want Rachel to feel bad?” That was nice. So typical that Greg didn’t want to bring down the room when they were celebrating.

Greg shook his head. “Look. I don’t like to trash-talk anyone and I especially don’t like to speak ill of the dead, but Violet wasn’t the most popular employee around here.”

My eyes opened wider. “Why?”

“Can I tell you about it at home?” He looked around like he was about to get caught with his hands full of full sugar cookies.

“Sure. No problem.” I had some time before I had to get the obituary in since there wasn’t going to be a service. “Did she have any friends I could talk to?”

He thought for a second. “I think she was tight with Brandie Frierson over at the Mailbox Place. At least, they used to have lunch together.”

I’d seen that name on Violet’s Facebook page, liking her posts and commenting on them. “Great. I’ll go talk to her.”

He held up one finger. “Oh, one more thing. You’re dealing with Violet’s stuff, right?”

“Sort of.”

He picked up a box and put it in my arms. “This is her stuff from her desk. Can you deal with it?”

I looked in it to see a framed photo of Orion, some painkillers, a comb, some honey lemon cough drops. It wouldn’t be too hard to put it in her house with the rest of her stuff. “Of course.”

Orion and I headed to the door. We were stepping out onto the sidewalk when Iris and Daisy walked toward us. “Oh, hi,” I said. I was still feeling a little awkward about the whole kind of accusing them of murdering their father thing. “Fancy meeting you here.” I cringed. I sounded inane.

Daisy nodded her head at me. “Desiree.”

Orion sat and offered up his paw for her to shake. She reached down to pat him on the head and Iris made a noise in the back of her throat. Daisy straightened up, wiping her hand on her jeans. I guessed Orion knew better than to try to shake hands with Iris.

A man from inside came out and said, “Ladies, come in. There are a few papers to sign and we’ll get your father’s affairs all tidied up.”

Oh. That’s why they were there. Greg’s firm issued their father’s insurance. I waved as I left.

Orion and I stowed the box of Violet’s things in the car and walked to the Mailbox Place to talk to Brandie. “Come on, boy,” I said to Orion. “We’ll walk to get our exercise in.”

The corn maze was nearly complete, and banners advertising the pumpkin patch, the zucchini carving contest, and the ghost tours had gone up. Nearly every business in downtown Verbena had pumpkins or scarecrows or black cats decorating their doors. Except the Mailbox Place. Their door was decoration-free. Turner Family Funeral Home decorates for a few of the holidays. We have pine wreaths during the winter holidays, flags for Memorial Day and Fourth of July, a cornucopia for Thanksgiving. We do not decorate for Halloween. No one wants to go into a funeral home with a plastic skeleton on the door. I wondered why Brandie didn’t decorate. Surely a few grinning skulls or bats with vampire teeth wouldn’t put anyone off picking up their mail.

The Mailbox Place was a fairly small room. One side held a bank of post office boxes for rent. There was a display of packing supplies. Then Brandie presided behind a counter with a computer. She was a white lady with dark hair cut in a chin-length bob. Medium height and medium weight. Her one distinguishing feature was her facial expression. She pretty much always looked as if someone had farted near her. There was a line at the counter when Orion and I walked in. I scooted to one side by the boxes to wait until the place cleared out.

Brandie looked up. “No dogs in here.” She made a shooing gesture.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t know.” Orion and I stepped out to wait outside for the place to clear. Orion lay down on the sidewalk with a “hmmph.”

“Nothing personal, big guy. Rules are rules.” I watched through the window until everyone finished and it looked like Brandie had a minute and walked back in.

“I told you no dogs in here.” She glared at me.

“But this is Orion. Violet’s dog.” If she was Violet’s friend, then certainly she would know Orion. If nothing else, she would have seen photos of him on Violet’s Facebook page. Violet was clearly crazy about him—who wouldn’t be?—so her friend must have liked him, too.

“I know whose it is. No dogs.” She gestured out the window. “You can tie him to the bike rack out there. You can still see him, but he’s not in here.”

Orion let out a sigh as if he knew what was coming. I did what Brandie suggested and left him on the sidewalk with a treat. I made sure that he could see me and I could see him once I was back inside. “Hi, Brandie. I’m …”

She didn’t let me finish. “Desiree Turner. I’m aware.”

“Oh. Okay.” That brought me up short. “I understand you were close with Violet.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “We were friends.”

“Did she seem okay to you in those last few days?” I asked. “Happy?”

Brandie’s eyebrows went up. “As happy as any of us ever are. Is that all you wanted to know? If she was happy when she died?”

“Well, no. Her cousin doesn’t really know her very well, and I was hoping to get some insight into who she was as a person and what you think her wishes might have been.” I pulled out a little notebook that I used to keep track of things.

“I imagine she wishes she hadn’t driven her car into an embankment.” Brandie cackled. It was the first time I’d seen her smile.

People deal with grief in all kinds of ways. I’d heard plenty of families make inappropriate jokes and laugh at things that really weren’t funny. It was a coping mechanism. Some people laughed instead of crying. This didn’t exactly sound like that, though. Those laughs tend to have a bit of a hysterical squeal at the end. This laugh sounded kind of mean, like she’d seen someone trip and fall and was pointing at them rather than helping them get up. “Oh, well. Yes. I’m sure she would wish that. I was thinking more about some kind of service locally or what she might want to do with any of her clothes or furniture.” I took a deep breath, not wanting an answer for this last item. “Or her dog.”

Brandie shook her head. “I have no idea why she wanted that damn dog. I mean, look at him.”

I turned and looked out the window. Orion had crossed his paws in front of himself and was using them as a pillow. I almost ran back out to snap a photo of him. Too adorable. I didn’t think that was what Brandie meant, though. “He’s just sitting,” I said.

“Sitting and smelling and probably having fleas.” She shivered with disgust. The sour look was back.

Okay, then. I wasn’t going to have to battle Brandie for Orion. “What about services? Do you have an idea of what she might have wanted?” I realized that not everyone has the “here’s what I want at my funeral” discussion on a regular basis like some of us do.

Brandie screwed up her face. “She didn’t really know that many people. She hadn’t lived here all that long.”

I hadn’t realized that. “When did she move here?”

“About six months ago.”

“What brought her here?” I asked.

Brandie shrugged. “She wanted a change of pace.”

I thought about the blanks on our obituary form. “Did she have any hobbies or favorite charities?”

Brandie settled back onto the high stool she sat in behind the counter. “Why?”

“For the obituary.”

She tapped her fingers on the counter. “She liked photography.” She snorted a bit.

“Why’s that funny?” I looked up from the pad where I was noting that down. I didn’t see anything inherently funny about photography. Violet had been a member of a photography Facebook group.

She waved her hand. “No reason. No reason.” Then she stopped still for a moment. “Have you found any of her photos or anything?”

“I haven’t really gone through the place yet,” I said.

“Oh, so you haven’t gone through any of her files or anything.” She cocked her head to one side.

Something about the way she was asking made me uneasy. When I got home, I’d go through her computer files. “No. Anything else you can tell me that would be good to have in her obituary?” I asked.

Brandie smiled. “Say that Violet was always interested in what was going on around her.” Then her face fell a little bit. “And she was always trying to figure out how to be a part of it.”

*   *   *

I’d only barely gotten settled at my desk when the doorbell rang again. I jogged down the steps and opened the door to a woman wearing what I could only describe as a power pantsuit. Conservative. Understated. It did nothing to hide her curves, which were impressive. Better even than Jasmine’s and that’s saying something. Somehow the suit conveyed all business, though. Her dark hair was pulled back in a sleek, but no-nonsense ponytail and she had on thick black-framed glasses. If this was a movie, she’d be the one to jump on the furniture, shake out her hair, and start dancing. The hot girl that no one knew was hot. The naughty librarian just waiting to have her books checked out, if you know what I mean. “May I help you?” I asked.

“Do you work here?” she asked, her tone brusque.

“Yes. I’m Desiree Turner.”

She sniffed and adjusted her glasses. “Ah. Family member, then.” She made a note on a clipboard. “Your role here?”

I crossed my arms and leaned against the doorframe. I didn’t take particularly kindly to people asking me a lot of questions without saying who they were. I’d done it to quite a few people and I knew how that situation could turn on a person. “And you are?” I asked.

She gave a disgusted sigh and pulled a card from her suit pocket. “Zenia Morrow. I’m with the Department of Consumer Affairs. Cemetery and Funeral Bureau.”

Uh-oh. I straightened up. The Department of Consumer Affairs oversees funeral homes in California. I didn’t remember Donna saying we were having an inspection. Maybe this was a surprise spot check. “Please, come in.”

I stepped aside and she brushed past, stopping in the entryway and looking around. I looked around with her. There’s nothing like knowing you’re being inspected to make you look at your own place—not to mention the jeans and cotton jersey top I was wearing—with different eyes. Was that a cobweb up by the chandelier? I hoped not.

As she stalked into the Magnolia Room, head darting like a small bird, I pulled out my phone and texted “911” to both Donna and Uncle Joey. Then I texted “Inspector.” I slid my phone back in my pocket.

“Is there something specific you’d like to see?” I asked, walking up beside her where she stood at the cabinet where we keep our sound system. Were there regulations about those? I didn’t remember any.

She turned back to me, her head at that funny little angle that made her seem a little avian. “You said you’re Desiree?”

I nodded. I was pretty sure I wasn’t getting that wrong.

“You work here as an assistant funeral director?” she asked.

I nodded again.

“Well, there’s been a complaint.”

“A complaint? Against me?” I squeaked.

Donna appeared from upstairs and Uncle Joey from downstairs as I said it. Uncle Joey froze. “Zenia?” he said.

She turned to him. “Hello, Joseph.” Her face looked calm, but her voice wobbled a little and it sounded a little husky. Where had I put that cough drop that I’d found? Maybe Zenia could use it.

I looked back and forth between them. Something was going on there. I wasn’t sure what. I looked over at Donna. Her lips were pressed together in a tight line and her hand rested on her bulging stomach.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, stepping toward her.

She pulled herself up even straighter. “I’m an inspector now. There’s been a complaint. Someone claims they weren’t given the full price sheet.”

I shook my head. “I’m sure I’ve given everyone the full price sheet. We make up the packets beforehand. Donna double-checks every one.” And if it was double-checked by Donna, it was right.

She turned toward me. Her blue eyes were unsettlingly bright. “Did you keep copies? With signatures?”

I nodded. “Always.”

“May I see them?” She sounded impatient as if we’d been keeping her waiting.

Uncle Joey gestured for her to follow him to the basement office. Donna sidled over to me. “Where’s Orion?”

“Back porch. Sleeping.” Puppies apparently slept nearly as much as babies, which made sense when you thought about.

“Thank goodness.” Donna brushed her back from her forehead.

“Is he against the rules?”

“Not in the living quarters. Probably should keep him out of the office, though.” She cocked her head and gave me a hard look. “You’re looking for a home for him, right?”

“Of course.” No need to show my hand yet. I scampered upstairs to make sure Orion would stay put, while Donna followed Zenia and Joseph down to the basement. Orion was still asleep, dozing in the morning sun. I left a rawhide chew next to him and took the stairs two at a time to the basement.

I stopped at the bottom step. Uncle Joey had set Zenia up at one of the long tables in the office with a stack of files in front of her. He looked up as I came to a stop and winked at me. A sign it was going to be okay. I felt air flowing back into my lungs. I tried to relax. I so hoped I hadn’t screwed up. I’d screwed up so much in my life, I didn’t want to screw things up in anybody else’s life. I really didn’t want to have performed the assistant funeral director version of a hot mic oops.

“I’ll need to go through all the files for the past month,” Zenia said. “It will take some time.”

“Can I get you something to drink?” I offered. “Water? Coffee?”

She turned those bright blue eyes on me again and I felt my heart beat faster. If she was birdlike, it was because she was like a bird of prey. “No thank you.”

Uncle Joey made a little shooing motion to Donna and me and we took the hint and went upstairs.

“Who is she?” I asked. “How does Uncle Joey know her?”

“Zenia used to have her own funeral home over in Santa Linda,” Donna said as she pulled herself up the stairs.

Santa Linda was basically one county over from Pluma Vista. Close, but not too close. Uncle Joey would know anyone who worked in his industry there. “What happened?”

Donna shrugged. “I’m not entirely sure. I know she ended up selling to one of the big corporate outfits, though.”

It was the fate of a lot of small family funeral homes. So far, we’d avoided it, but the specter always hung over us. “So what’s the deal between her and Uncle Joey? Is it just me or did it seem like there was something going on there?”

“It’s not just you.” We made it to the top floor and Donna flopped down on the couch in the living room. “She was our competition for quite a while. It was friendly, I think. They were all in the same bowling league. But it was hard to compete with Dad, you know?”

I did. Dad had been a charmer. “And she decided to stop competing? Were there hard feelings?”

“That’s what I’m not so sure about. There might have been an argument. I know Uncle Joey stopped going to bowling on Tuesday nights for a while.” Donna slipped off her shoes and put her feet up on the coffee table, wiggling her toes as if they were dancing at being free.

“It had to be a pretty serious to get Uncle Joey to not bowl.” Uncle Joey loved bowling. He was good at it, too.

Donna leaned forward over the pillow she’d pulled into her lap. “I know, but nobody would talk about it. Not Joey. Not Dad.”

“Do you think we put her out of business?” I sat down on the other end of the couch.

Donna bit her lip. “Maybe.”

“And now she’s here inspecting us?” I shook my head. “That doesn’t seem like a good idea.”

“It’s how things go. The state always hires from within the trade and the people within the trade who are available are often people who are out of business.” She rubbed at her stomach again.

“Shouldn’t there be some kind of conflict of interest that we can point to?” I asked. “Get a different inspector?”

Donna reached over and put her hand on my arm. “Don’t borrow trouble. Let’s wait to see what she finds before we start accusing her of anything.”

“Well, I can’t sit here waiting for the axe to fall. I’m taking Orion out.” I got back up.

“Have you put up the ad yet?” she asked.

“The what?” For a second, I didn’t know what she was talking about.

“The ad. You know, to see if someone will adopt him. In the paper? On the Internet?” She shifted around on the couch, trying to get comfortable.

“Oh, yeah. Not yet.” That weird indigestion started up again. Both of us rubbed at our stomachs.

Donna raised an eyebrow.

“We had a service yesterday and now I can’t use the computer downstairs while Zenia is inspecting us. I’ll do it this afternoon.” There might have been a bit of bite to my words.

Donna held up her hands in front of her. “Okay. Okay. Relax, will you?”

Orion was done with his nap and ready for another walk. We traipsed along through the sunshine. Mornings were already chilly, but afternoons still warmed up into the seventies and were pretty much perfectly Californian. Light breezes. Bird song. I wasn’t sure which one of us enjoyed it more. When we got back, Zenia’s Saab was still parked in the drive, though. How long was it going to take for her to go through those files? “Let’s go upstairs, boy.”

We tiptoed up the back stairs and to my room. Violet’s laptop sat on my desk. I plugged in the laptop and flipped it open. I took out the notebook and found the password and typed it in. Everything whirred to life. First I launched her e-mail program. A ridiculous number of e-mails started to download. That was going to be a lot to go through.

I clicked on her Internet browser and it loaded Facebook right away. Violet had forty-two notifications. Then I went back to her e-mail. She had notifications of some bills to be paid.

I called Lizette.

“Hi, Lizette. It’s Desiree at Turner Family Funeral Home again.”

She made a weird noise. Kind of like a strangled growl. “What now?”

I held the phone out from my ear. She sounded irritated. I was pretty sure I was the one doing her the favors. What did she have to be irritated about? “I found Violet’s laptop and a notebook with her passwords. I, uh, thought maybe you should go on Violet’s Facebook page and let people know what was going on. She seems to have been pretty active there.”

“How on earth would I do that? I’m not her Facebook friend. I didn’t even know she existed until she didn’t anymore.” Definitely irritated.

“Well, it’s not that hard. You just …”

“If it’s not hard, would you mind taking care of it?” There was a bit more honey in her voice now. I was noticing a pattern.

I hesitated. I wasn’t crazy about her previous tone. “Look,” I said. “You’re her actual relative. It seems a little strange to have me announcing her death to people.”

“Isn’t death stuff what you do?” The edge was back. “Like as your job?”

She had a point. “Yes, but this is more of a personal thing, something that should be handled by family.”

She heaved a sigh that could probably have been used as a leaf blower. “Look. I didn’t know her. I don’t know her friends. I’m not even sure how we’re related. Just post something if you think that’s what should be done, okay?”

It seemed ridiculous to argue about it. She was right, in a way. What did it matter if I posted about Violet’s death or a cousin who didn’t know her did? “She also had some notifications about bills needing to be paid.”

“You have her laptop and all her passwords, right?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Pay the bills. You can probably pay them online, right?”

“Is that even legal?”

“Who’s going to turn you in? Look. I’ve got to go. Call me if there’s any problem paying the bills.”

She was gone. I clicked to Violet’s profile page and posted a brief announcement informing everyone that Violet had passed away.

I started going through Violet’s e-mails, deleting the obvious spam, political e-mails, and sales notices. I didn’t think Violet wanted to buy any crafting materials or enlarge the size of any of her organs, including ones I was pretty certain she didn’t have.

It didn’t leave much. There weren’t many actual e-mails really to her. There were two from something called Helix Helper. I opened the first one. The subject line was Question Regarding Relative Search. Inside, the e-mail read:

Hi, Violet,

We hope you enjoyed your DNA profile. As to your question about our Relative Search option, you will get notifications that certain possible relatives exist, but you won’t be able to contact them unless they, too, have made their profiles public and available. Even if their profile was originally public, you won’t be able to contact them if their profiles are now private. There is no way to force them to reply to any messages you might have sent them. Like you, they have an expectation of privacy unless they specifically choose to give that up.

Let us know if you have any further questions or concerns,

Helix Helper

That was interesting. I’d thought Violet didn’t have any relatives besides the cousin in Maine. I clicked the link. Three people showed up as possible relatives in the Helix Helper database. None had made their profiles public. They hadn’t even posted photos of themselves on their profiles. According to Helix Helper, their possible relationship to Violet was listed as “extremely high.” I wonder if I could post some kind of plea to them. Maybe I could find someone besides the snotty cousin in Maine to help sort everything out. I didn’t really want to deal with Violet’s belongings or her bills or her house. I didn’t want to deal with anything. Well, anything except Orion. I’d still deal with him. I mean, that just made sense. I was here on the ground, after all.

It was sad, really. Violet clearly had been looking for some place where she belonged. All those Facebook groups? Trying to find distant relatives? It all pointed to someone who was trying to find her people, her tribe. I’d spent a good portion of my life trying to get away from my tribe, but I’d had the luxury of belonging in the first place.

I continued deleting the ads and the spam and the special offers. Then I hit one that didn’t seem to be any of the above. The e-mail address didn’t have a name attached to it or any signature line inside the e-mail. The subject line read: Back off. Inside it read: Leave me alone if you know what’s good for you. The date on the e-mail was October second. The day of Violet’s accident.

I forwarded it to Nate with a note saying, “Looks like somebody hated Violet.” Before I could decide what else to do, my phone buzzed. It was Uncle Joey asking me to come back downstairs.

I told Orion to stay. He gave me a hurt look, but curled up on the rug by my bed. I went back to the basement, slowing with every step I took. Zenia, Donna, and Uncle Joey were waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs.

“I’ve looked over the files and I don’t see any discrepancies or other wrong-doings,” Zenia announced.

I blew out a breath. That was a relief.

“It’s been a while since you’ve been inspected, though. I’ll be back on Wednesday to do a more thorough inspection.” Her words were clipped and sharp. I wasn’t sure if the inspection was a promise or a threat.

“I’ll walk you out,” Uncle Joey said. He put his hand on the small of her back to usher her out. She must have been cold. I thought I saw her shiver.

I watched as he followed her up the stairs, then Donna and I both looked over at the piles of files that Zenia had left on the long table. “I suppose I better get started refiling those,” I said.

“Would you?” Donna leaned on the back of one of the chairs. We’d had a little scare early on and we’d thought she might lose this baby, too. She’d even been on bed rest for a while. The doctor had loosened things up as Donna had improved. She could help in the office and with anything that wouldn’t put her on her feet for too long. Things had mellowed out, but we still didn’t want to overtire her.

“Sure. You can go upstairs and rest.” I hesitated. “Can I bring Orion down here?”

“You already have been.” She made that older sister face at me. The one that said she knew what I’d been up to, even if I hadn’t told her.

Whatever. “I know, but I wasn’t sure if it was okay.”

Donna shrugged. “I don’t think there’s any actual rule against it.”

I went upstairs with Donna. She stayed upstairs and Orion came back down with me. “You can keep me company while I file,” I told him.

He yipped, then settled onto my feet under the table as I sorted through the files. They were all from the past fourteen days. Somewhere in there was whoever had made a complaint against us. I scanned the names to see if I could figure out who. I didn’t spot anyone whose service or burial or cremation hadn’t gone as planned. Things had been running really smoothly. I hadn’t screwed anything up in weeks.

Then my hand stopped on the file for Frank Fiore. I remembered Iris’s angry face as she told me off for looking into her father’s death. Could she be the one who filed the complaint? It didn’t matter if she was. Nothing had been found. The inspection would be a bit of a hassle, nothing more. I refiled Mr. Fiore’s folders.

Then another thought struck me. If Dad had seen something that made him need to disappear, it would probably have been in one of the services he’d handled right before then. If he had seen or had heard something that was bad enough that he’d felt he had to somehow disappear, he wouldn’t have told us. That would have put us in danger, too. He might be out there trying to resolve whatever it was.

That might explain why he would make his presence known after all this time. He wanted me to know he was still here. He knew if he did that then I’d want to find him. If he wanted me to find him, though, maybe he also wanted me to find what had made him disappear. I hadn’t been looking into that angle. I’d only been looking for him. Maybe letting me know he was still around was his way of getting me to step up and do some digging. I chewed on my lower lip. If there was anything to that hypothesis, the start of my answer would be in whoever’s funerals we had held around the time he disappeared.

We keep our physical files alphabetical, but there are, of course, computer files as well that can be sorted by any number of criteria. After I finished filing the ones that Zenia had looked through, I tapped a few buttons on Uncle Joey’s computer and pulled up the names of the funerals that had been held in the two weeks before Dad had disappeared.

There had been four. Detra Shively, Kenyatta Westfall, Jerrod Dew, and Broderick Gunter. Nothing about them jumped out at me right away. I pulled their physical files and sat down in the spot where Zenia had been conducting her audit. I went through each one. Detra Shively had been a bookkeeper for the school district before retiring. She’d been eighty-one when she died of congestive heart failure. Kenyatta Westfall had been a wildlife biologist. She’d died too young. She’d only been fifty-two when breast cancer had won out. Broderick Gunter had worked construction for Canty Construction and had had a heart attack. Jerrod Dew was a software engineer for the state of California and had had MS.

They were regular people who had had regular jobs and had died in regular ways. I refiled the folders, feeling unsatisfied and unsettled.

There wasn’t anything in the notes on any of the funerals to make me think that something could have been wrong. Maybe Dad hadn’t wanted to put anything in writing, though. I scratched Orion behind the ears. “What would he have done if something had been bothering him?” I asked him.

He looked up with his big brown eyes like he’d answer me if he could.

The first person Dad would have talked to was Uncle Joey. He clearly hadn’t done that. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to involve his brother. Who else would he have confided in?

The answer came to me in an instant. I made a call and invited myself for breakfast the next day at Kyle and Lola Hansen’s house. I could ask them if Dad had said anything and maybe get some bonus dog-raising hints at the same time.

Before I could set my phone down, it buzzed again with a message from Rafe. The city council was ready to announce who had won the bathroom bid.