Free Casket Case by Fran Rizer

“Carefree” on his right side and “Pets” on the left.
    When he turned to pull the door closed, I saw that his gray-streaked brown hair hung through the hole in the back of the cap in a ponytail down to his waist. His beard was a lot like one of the men in ZZ Top, and he had an unlit cigar in his mouth. It looked slobbery, like he’d chewed on it.
    “I’m Dennis Sharpe,” he said in that same wonderful warm voice I’d heard on the phone. A voice that didn’t go at all with his appearance. “I’ve come to talk to an embalmer.”
    “Certainly, Mr. Sharpe. I spoke with you yesterday. Have a seat in the conference room and I’ll call Mr. Middleton for you.” I motioned toward an open door and watched as he went in and sat at the round conference table. He sure didn’t look like he sounded.
    I was glad this man wasn’t the little girl’s daddy. He didn’t look like I’d pictured her father in my mind. Actually, I don’t think I’d ever pictured anybody quite like him. I pressed a button on the wall beside the light switch and notified Otis to come up front. When he arrived, we entered the room where Mr. Sharpe waited.
    “Mr. Sharpe,” I said as Otis and I sat down, “this is Otis Middleton, one of the owners of Middleton’s Mortuary. He’s also a licensed undertaker and embalmer, so he can answer any questions you have.”
    Otis pulled out a clipboard with a planning sheet on top.
    “Oh, no,” Mr. Sharpe said. “You won’t need any of that. I just want some information about embalming.”
    “What would you like to know?” Otis asked and set the papers and pen on the table.
    “Well, first off, so you won’t think I’m some kind of kook with a kinky morbid interest, I want you to know that I’m a taxidermist. I’ve made a good living preserving hunting and fishing trophies around here but it’s slowed down. Last year, I started another business. I got to thinking about years and years ago, somebody made a bunch of money selling ‘pet rocks.’ Remember that?”
    “Yes,” Otis said, “I believe I do.”
    Dennis Sharpe pulled the cigar out of his mouth and looked at the wet end, then put it back between his lips. “Well, you know Roy Rogers had his horse Trigger preserved and mounted by a taxidermist, and I’ve done some pet dogs and cats. Got to thinking that while some people can’t let their pets go when they die, there’s probably folks around who’d like a pet but either can’t afford or don’t have time to feed and care for one. That’s when I started Carefree Pets.”
    “What kind of pets do you sell?” I interrupted.
    “Started out mostly dogs and cats, but I found out a lot of people who don’t hunt wanted stuffed wild animals. I don’t mean big ones. Little fellows like squirrels and raccoons, sometimes even possums.”
    Otis cut me a look and said, “Mr. Sharpe, I follow what you’re saying, but what does it have to do with embalming?”
    “Competition has gotten pretty fierce in the taxidermy business. Lots of folks are having their kills freeze-dried, and I’ve been wondering if embalming might be an alternative. In taxidermy, we stretch the fur over forms, sometimes plastic, sometimes carved from wood. Would it work to just embalm the animals?”
    “No.” Otis smiled. “Embalming wouldn’t be suitable. It’s not as permanent as your taxidermy methods.”
    “I saw on television that some woman named Eva Perón was perfectly preserved for over twenty years,” Dennis Sharpe said. “Her husband kept her in his dining room even after he remarried.”
    “That’s not usual embalming, though. Her body was treated with a much costlier and lengthier method than is used today,” Otis said in the instructor tone he sometimes uses with me. “Mrs. Perón’s body was almost plasticized.”
    I couldn’t believe that Otis was actually using the word “body.”
    Mr. Sharpe looked disappointed. “Then you don’t think embalming might be able to replace