Free Demise in Denim by Duffy Brown Page A

Conway right there on the table in front of her. Scared her to death.” I rolled my eyes. “Sorry, the death thing just slipped out. Anyway, she figures it’s someone who wants Conway real dead, and the chances are good he’ll show up at Conway’s wake tonight. She thinks we need to be there and chat him up, find out who he is.” I lugged the garbage can to the side of the house.
    â€œWe?” KiKi asked, following me back into the shop. “Remember the last funeral
we
attended at the Slumber? The wigs, the upside-down fern, the fire department, and we had to hide in the bushes. I hate hiding in bushes; it’s downright undignified for a woman my age. Think I’ll pass this time around.”
    â€œYou’re going to make me go all alone?” I folded my arms and gave my dear auntie a hard look. “Something’s up. No way would you miss the social event of the month, and you belong to the Plantation Club so you and Uncle Putter have to go because Conway was president. Fact is, not going would be a sacrilege. The only reason you’re holding out is that you need a favor, a big one. Let me guess, you got another single doctor who needs a date.”
    KiKi fiddled with a display of earrings I had on thecheckout counter. “Not that.” She bit her bottom lip, then threw her arms wide open and looked skyward. “I can’t take it anymore. It’s the Shakin’ Seniors. One more dance lesson with Melvin Pettigrew and I’m tossing myself in the river. His hands are everywhere they have no business being. If Putter sees him in action there’s going to be a duel out at Forsyth Park, and unless it involves golf clubs Putter will lose.”
    â€œMelvin’s eighty-something, you can take him.”
    â€œMelvin’s an octopus with bad breath. I need a break. I’m starting to get hives.” KiKi held out her arms with red welts.
    â€œTell him to back off.”
    â€œTell BW to be a watchdog.”
    â€œI get your point. All right, all right, I’ll teach the class. Just one.”
    â€œTwo, since I got two arms with hives.”
    â€œFine. Besides, nothing can be worse than teaching the fox-trot to the teens.” I looked at KiKi. “Did you just say ‘wanna bet’ under your breath?”
    â€œI’ll meet you at the Slumber at seven-ish by the big fern next to the tea table. Don’t touch the fern, don’t let Uncle Putter chip fallen rose petals into the casket, and most important of all, save me some windmill cookies.”
    KiKi headed off for a mambo lesson with the Dunlaps at eleven. They planned a Caribbean cruise and wanted to do it up in style. Two customers brought in clothes that I had to pass on, being as they were more Goodwill than prissy. At twelve sharp AnnieFritz and Elsie Abbott trotted up the front walk, with a big wicker basket slung over Elsie’s arm.I’d asked them to watch the shop while Chantilly and I stirred things up over at the Plantation Club.
    The Abbott sisters lived next to me on the other side in a small Greek Revival–style house. They were left the place by Cousin Willie, who proclaimed sausage gravy and biscuits the fifth food group and was now chowing down at the great fat farm in the sky. Elsie and AnnieFritz were retired teachers and supplemented their income by renting themselves out as professional mourners. No one got the grieving attendees at a wake sobbing louder and longer than the sisters. They were top billing for all the major funerals, and for a 30 percent discount on funeral wear at the Prissy Fox they were happy to fill in when needed.
    â€œI suppose you’ll be attending Conway’s funeral tonight?” I said to the sisters as they came inside.
    Elsie pulled a lovely pink doily from the basket and fluffed it open across the desk as AnnieFritz unpacked a flowered teapot and matching china cups. “Oh, honey, you know we are. We’re