Fran Rizer - Callie Parrish 06 - A Corpse Under the Christmas Tree by Fran Rizer Page B
Authors: Fran Rizer
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The story was interesting, but I couldn’t keep my mind on it. I kept looking over at Big Boy and being grateful he was home. I was also a little scared. What if the biopsy came back positive? The more I thought about it, the more inclined I was to spend the rest of the day at home with my dog. I called Daddy.
“When are you coming over here, Calamine? I’ve got supper cooked, and we’re all going over to Lettie’s house in a little while. Do you know when the funeral is?”
“Yes, sir. The service is Saturday afternoon.” I waited a full minute. My dad doesn’t like it when I change plans on him. “Listen, Daddy, can I get a rain check on supper? I’m really tired, plus I brought Big Boy home, and I don’t want to leave him here alone right now.”
“We’ll go ahead and eat then, Calamine,” he said, “but you don’t get a rain check. I made a rib roast dinner, and you know it’ll all be gone by tomorrow.”
I laughed, told him goodbye, and went back to my book, waiting for my call from Patel. About nine o’clock, I broke down and called his cell phone. No answer. When I went to bed at eleven, I tried again. Still no answer. I’d be hard-pressed to say if I was more disappointed or angry.
“How’s your latest murder?” I knew the words were Mike’s because I recognized his voice on the phone and because he’s the only one who actually teases me about finding dead people.
“It’s not my murder. How’s your job search?”
“Oh, that was cold,” he answered. “John said ask if you want to meet for lunch since you didn’t come to dinner last night.”
“Sure. Is everybody going?”
“Just you, me, John, and Frankie. Miriam is taking the kids shopping, and Pa’s busy in the kitchen making bourbon balls to take to Miss Lettie. She bragged so much about his stew that now he wants to show her he can bake, too. I reminded him there’s no baking to the way he makes bourbon balls, but he just said, ‘She won’t know the difference.’”
“I have to work, so I’ll need to meet you somewhere at twelve-thirty.”
“Let’s eat at Rizzie’s. She always has good specials.”
“See you then and there.”
I helped Big Boy out onto the back stoop and watched him step gingerly down the steps. He eyed the van, and I wondered if he wanted to go for another ride in it or if he was dreading my putting him in it. Then I actually hoped that Big Boy had realized he was a boy dog and might hike his leg by the van’s tire, but he squatted like he always had. Back inside the apartment, he took a few laps of water and then lay down on his rug again. When I left for work, he was sleeping.
My first task at Middleton’s was to carry plants and floral arrangements from our flower room to Slumber Room A and arrange them around the bier under Jeff Morgan’s casket. Two florists had already made early morning deliveries.
Otis and Odell were both in their offices, and since I didn’t have anything to do at the moment, I pulled a mystery from my desk drawer and read. We don’t have to keep anyone near the entrance because the front door lets us know someone is there by activating recorded hymns any time it’s opened.
I’d just gotten interested in the book when the phone rang. “Middleton’s Mortuary. Callie Parrish speaking. How may I help you?”
“This is Lettie Morgan. I’ve been thinking, and while I appreciate you picking such a nice suit for Jeffrey Junior, I want him buried in an Army uniform. Do you have one there?” Miss Lettie sounded very businesslike.
“No, ma’am. We don’t stock any uniforms.”
“I’ve been to funerals there when the dead person wore a uniform.” Her voice changed to a whine.
“We can dress Mr. Morgan in a uniform if you supply it, but we can’t get it for you.”
“I’ll see what I can do then, but don’t take my son’s clothes off until after I bring you something else for him to wear.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I went back
The story was interesting, but I couldn’t keep my mind on it. I kept looking over at Big Boy and being grateful he was home. I was also a little scared. What if the biopsy came back positive? The more I thought about it, the more inclined I was to spend the rest of the day at home with my dog. I called Daddy.
“When are you coming over here, Calamine? I’ve got supper cooked, and we’re all going over to Lettie’s house in a little while. Do you know when the funeral is?”
“Yes, sir. The service is Saturday afternoon.” I waited a full minute. My dad doesn’t like it when I change plans on him. “Listen, Daddy, can I get a rain check on supper? I’m really tired, plus I brought Big Boy home, and I don’t want to leave him here alone right now.”
“We’ll go ahead and eat then, Calamine,” he said, “but you don’t get a rain check. I made a rib roast dinner, and you know it’ll all be gone by tomorrow.”
I laughed, told him goodbye, and went back to my book, waiting for my call from Patel. About nine o’clock, I broke down and called his cell phone. No answer. When I went to bed at eleven, I tried again. Still no answer. I’d be hard-pressed to say if I was more disappointed or angry.
“How’s your latest murder?” I knew the words were Mike’s because I recognized his voice on the phone and because he’s the only one who actually teases me about finding dead people.
“It’s not my murder. How’s your job search?”
“Oh, that was cold,” he answered. “John said ask if you want to meet for lunch since you didn’t come to dinner last night.”
“Sure. Is everybody going?”
“Just you, me, John, and Frankie. Miriam is taking the kids shopping, and Pa’s busy in the kitchen making bourbon balls to take to Miss Lettie. She bragged so much about his stew that now he wants to show her he can bake, too. I reminded him there’s no baking to the way he makes bourbon balls, but he just said, ‘She won’t know the difference.’”
“I have to work, so I’ll need to meet you somewhere at twelve-thirty.”
“Let’s eat at Rizzie’s. She always has good specials.”
“See you then and there.”
I helped Big Boy out onto the back stoop and watched him step gingerly down the steps. He eyed the van, and I wondered if he wanted to go for another ride in it or if he was dreading my putting him in it. Then I actually hoped that Big Boy had realized he was a boy dog and might hike his leg by the van’s tire, but he squatted like he always had. Back inside the apartment, he took a few laps of water and then lay down on his rug again. When I left for work, he was sleeping.
My first task at Middleton’s was to carry plants and floral arrangements from our flower room to Slumber Room A and arrange them around the bier under Jeff Morgan’s casket. Two florists had already made early morning deliveries.
Otis and Odell were both in their offices, and since I didn’t have anything to do at the moment, I pulled a mystery from my desk drawer and read. We don’t have to keep anyone near the entrance because the front door lets us know someone is there by activating recorded hymns any time it’s opened.
I’d just gotten interested in the book when the phone rang. “Middleton’s Mortuary. Callie Parrish speaking. How may I help you?”
“This is Lettie Morgan. I’ve been thinking, and while I appreciate you picking such a nice suit for Jeffrey Junior, I want him buried in an Army uniform. Do you have one there?” Miss Lettie sounded very businesslike.
“No, ma’am. We don’t stock any uniforms.”
“I’ve been to funerals there when the dead person wore a uniform.” Her voice changed to a whine.
“We can dress Mr. Morgan in a uniform if you supply it, but we can’t get it for you.”
“I’ll see what I can do then, but don’t take my son’s clothes off until after I bring you something else for him to wear.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I went back
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