Our greatest weakness lies in giving up. The most certain way to succeed
is always to try just one more time.
~ Thomas A. Edison
“Exactly what do you think your job description entails?” Edwin demanded.
His calming tone, the one she’d grown so used to, had vanished. In its place were irritation, abrasiveness, and impatience. Fortunately, she’d closed his door behind her when she’d entered his office, so Margie couldn’t hear anything.
Brianna shifted her sitting position. Behind the large desk, Edwin’s threatening glare blazed through his gold spectacles.
“I don’t know what you mean,” she said. “I do my job, prepping the dead for the funeral.”
Edwin cocked an eyebrow at her. He’d grown more aggressive in recent days.
“Does your job include stealing the property of Restful Oaks?”
She dug her nails into the chair’s arm. How could he know about Riordan so quickly? Play dumb. Just play dumb.
“You’ve brought me into your office to talk about needing an extra stapler? I’m sorry. I forgot to put yours back and Margie’s was on the blink.”
Edwin studied her with narrowed eyes. “I’m not referring to office supplies. I’m talking about a dead body, one you signed for. Mr. Riordan O’Shea?”
She coughed, almost choking on the lump in the back of her throat. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Bullshit doesn’t become us, Brianna.”
She stared at the brown carpet. He knew. What now? Her only option was to stand her ground.
“You told me no bodies were to be delivered that day,” she said.
“Margie should’ve worked that shift. She didn’t tell me about her commitment until the night before. Things became busy, and I forgot you were manning the front desk on the day he was to arrive.”
Edwin paused, wiped the sweat off his brow, and said, “Trust me, I regret letting you sign for the body.”
Was there a scar on his forehead? Brianna sat up in her chair and tried to look without seeming too obvious.
“What do you want, Edwin?”
“I need Riordan’s body. Where is it?”
“I can’t do that,” she said. Even if you fire me.
Martha’s mention of Declan, of keeping the faith, had been the shot of hope she needed to see her efforts through. Brianna was doing the right thing. She would not back down now, not for some greedy corrupt set of good ole boys out to screw over the dead.
“Tell me,” Edwin said, his stare dark and sinister.
“No.”
He pounded his fist on the desk like a crazed monkey. “Tell me!”
“Why don’t you tell me why you’re cremating bodies when they should be going to autopsy?”
His eyes widened—a frightening sight behind his tiny, rimmed glasses.
“I run a decent funeral home,” he said, his voice quaking.
Maybe the gentler approach would work? He seemed...conflicted.
“Edwin, don’t you see that by doing as Begley says, you’re only hurting your business, the dead, their families? It’s negating any of the good you’re doing.”
“If I don’t do as Begley demands,” he said, “I won’t have a business to run. He’s the primary investor, the one who manages all the accounts.”
Brianna widened her eyes. “I thought Margie took care of the admin side.”
Edwin rolled his eyes. “Margie is a front. It’s something to get her out of the house all day and she likes working with me.”
Hmm. “How can Begley shut you down? Even he said the mortuary business has job security. Why do you need him at all?”
The next words off her tongue even surprised her. “Have a little faith.”
Wow. Where had that come from?
Edwin sat there, speechless. Unable to keep eye contact, he stared out the window. For the first time, she saw how long and drawn his chin had become, how hollow his cheeks were, and the dark bags under his eyes. Edwin wasn’t a leader in corruption. He was a victim of Begley’s stranglehold. Begley was like kudzu, the vine that grew by leaps and bounds each day, constricting the life force out of anything it wrapped its ropelike strands around.
Finally, after moments of silence, Edwin’s poker face returned. “I need Riordan’s body, Brianna.”
Nothing she said had mattered. Edwin would always work for Begley, a sad truth.
But she would never become like Edwin. Begley wouldn’t own her—ever.
“I’m sorry, Edwin. I can’t give you Riordan’s body.”
“Then I’m sorry, Brianna,” he said. “But you’re fired.”