Free Half-Price Homicide by Elaine Viets Page B

hand. “At least it’s not Limburger.”
    “I can’t find that cheese down here.” Phil looked innocent as a puppy.
    “Good,” Helen said.
    “Listen, I don’t want to ruin your appetite further,” Margery said, “but you should start making arrangements to ship your mother’s body home to St. Louis.”
    “She’s not dead yet,” Helen said.
    “She will be soon, if the doctor’s right. It’s better to make those decisions now than trying to reach a funeral director at three in the morning. Trust me, that’s when old people pass. You’ll be too tired and upset to make rational decisions then.”
    “Do you know a good funeral director?” Helen asked.
    “I do, and a couple of bad ones. I’ll go with you, if you want.”
    “Thanks,” Helen said. “But I can’t deal with that today.”
    “How about tomorrow?” Margery asked. “We can leave about noon.”
    Fortified by two white wines, one salad and a cupcake, Helen was ready to call her stepfather. She could see Larry now, his bones covered with wrinkled skin like a baggy shirt, his hairless head hidden under a flat brown cap. Larry made polite noises of regret when she told him about Dolores. Helen thought she’d heard people sound more upset when their cat died.
    “I’ll make the arrangements to send Mother home,” Helen said.
    “Well, dear,” Larry said, in a voice that rustled like old paper, “I was thinking of having Dolores cremated.”
    “Mother wants to be buried in St. Louis, Larry. She left her funeral instructions in the desk in her living room, along with her will.”
    “I know, dear, but it’s so expensive to ship her body home. Cremation would be much better.”
    “You mean cheaper,” Helen said, her voice getting higher.
    “Well, yes, there are cost advantages. And we must be practical.”
    “You’ll cremate my mother over my dead body.” Or over Mom’s, Helen thought. She took a deep breath. Margery hovered in the background, frowning at her. Phil rubbed her back to calm her. Helen knew if she fought with Lawn Boy Larry, she’d get nowhere.
    She softened her voice and said, “Larry. Lawrence. Sir. You’re right, of course. But Mother was old-school Catholic. She was taught that cremation was wrong. I understand the Church has changed its view and cremation is allowed as long as you believe in the resurrection of the body. But Mother has already bought a plot next to her first husband and had her name carved on the tombstone. It’s paid for.”
    “But I have a coupon,” Larry said. “My friend Bert lives in Pompano Beach, which I think is near you. He sent me a coupon for a low-cost cremation. It’s good anywhere in Broward County, where you live. You can get Dolores cremated for only six hundred dollars. That includes the coffin.”
    Helen squeezed Phil’s hand so hard it turned red, then said, “Larry, this is my mother’s funeral, not a sale at Costco. She will not be thrown away like a full ashtray. She wants a funeral in her parish church with all of her friends there and she will have it.”
    “But Helen, dear, that’s so wasteful. We can have a memorial service at church, and the ladies’ sodality will serve tea and sandwiches. Those are free. I’d have to make a slight donation, of course, but …”
    “I’m sure your donation will be skinnier than a heroin addict,” Helen said. Margery frowned at her, and Helen tried to rein in her rage. “Larry, my mother has left you her money and her house. Surely there should be enough money for her wishes.”
    “Well, dear, housing prices aren’t what they used to be—”
    Helen interrupted the dithering and shrieked, “I’ll pay the freakin’ shipping costs myself.”
    “And where will you get the money, dear?”
    “I’ll sell my body on the street, Larry. I’ll hold up a gas station. I’ll get the money some way. And my sins will be on your soul!”
    Margery clamped her hand over Helen’s mouth. “Shut up and think before you say another