Free (2012) Colder Than Death by DB Gilles

Cobb's personal life than Nolan's. I'd never been invited to his home. I knew that he was married once, when he was in his Twenties, and that his wife had walked out on him, and that he had never remarried. Lew told me that in all the years he'd known Nolan since his wife left, he'd never gotten serious with another woman. I got the implication from Lew that Nolan's wife had broken his heart.
    For that reason alone I felt an odd kinship with Nolan. The woman he loved had walked out on him. And my first love had pretty much walked out on me.
    Glancing at Nolan, I could see he was anxious to get to work so I started for the door and mumbled a “Good-bye.”
    Nolan said, “See ya, Del,” then, as I closed the door, I heard him unzip the body bag and immediately start talking to what was left of Brandy Parker.

Chapter 10
    While Nolan did his part in the burial of Brandy Parker, I continued to do mine, which consisted of a handful of tasks that could be taken care of over the phone. Getting the obituary to the newspaper. Contacting the crematorium. Ordering flowers. Because the coffin wouldn't be leaving the Home for a church service and as I would be bringing the remains directly to the crematorium, pallbearers wouldn't be an issue. And there was also the issue of whether or not the body would be wearing any clothes.
    Despite the fact that it would be a closed casket ceremony I had an obligation to ask Suzanne Worthington what her wishes were regarding the clothing issue. As with most aspects of the funeral and burial process, the typical person doesn't consider certain areas until the situation arises.
    The dressing of the corpse is always a touchy issue. Should a man be dressed in his underwear or not? Just a T-shirt or only his shorts or both? Socks and shoes or barefoot? Should a female wear a bra? Pantyhose? One would think that with closed casket viewings any clothing at all would be a moot point. Why bother dressing a corpse when no one would be seeing it? The same question could be asked about the logic of putting shoes on a corpse in an open coffin. Why? The body isn't going anywhere. But considering the decomposed state of Brandy Parker's remains, it would be natural to question the wisdom of dressing the corpse in conventional clothes. I decided to suggest a traditional burial shroud. I called the Worthington home. A man answered. I introduced myself and asked for Suzanne.
    The man blurted an abrupt, “Hold on,” and roughly set down the receiver on a hard surface. What seemed like close to a minute later, Suzanne picked up. She had the same pre-occupied, disinterested attitude she displayed in our earlier meeting. I presented her with the choices. She opted for the shroud, but before committing to it said, “I'd better discuss this with my daughter. Let me call you back.”
    Less than two minutes passed. It was Suzanne with the news that Quilla would chose the clothes that Brandy Parker would wear. We also discussed the matter of the photograph of Brandy which would be placed atop her coffin. They had a framed 9x12 color picture of her. I said I would stop by in an hour to pick it and the clothes up. When I got to their house, a basement-less, oversized ranch that looked larger than it really was because of an attached garage, I found that neither Quilla nor Suzanne were home.
    Alan Worthington answered the door, a Blackberry to his right ear. As he talked he raised his left hand, palm up, which I took to mean that I should wait. I expected him to step back a few feet and continue talking, but he stood there in front me, as if I weren't even there, separated only by the screen door.
    He looked to be in his early Forties and had a thick black mustache that made him look like a Seventies porn star. He was about five feet five, a good eight inches shorter than I. He wore an expensive, but still noticeable hairpiece. I didn't like his eyes. They seemed to be always moving, darting back and forth like a neurotic rat