Page 36 of Deeper Than the Dead

Vera mustered up another smile. “I’m sure Daddy will love that idea.”

Thankfully he wouldn’t have a clue what Luna was talking about. Or, if he did, he wouldn’t for long. Lucky him.

There were so many things just now that Vera desperately wished she could forget.

Barrett’s Funeral Home

Washington Street, Fayetteville, 12:45 p.m.

Vera had seen plenty of dead folks in her time—definitely not as many as her sister, but more than she would have liked. Growing up, the only transgression worse than not putting in an appearance at a viewing or the funeral of a neighbor was taking God’s name in vain. Which meant Vera and Eve had loads of experience with funeral homes and the dead.

As an adult, most of the dead that Vera encountered had been homicide victims. Usually victims of violence. She’d sat in on more than her share of autopsies. But she’d only been present at the final preparations for burial once or twice. Both times, like now, with her sister.

When Vera arrived, Eve insisted she put on an apron and gloves, no matter that she had no intention of touching the corpse or any of the equipment in the room. Her sister had begun setting the features of the deceased, an eighty-year-old female heart attack victim named Mary Jo Kaufman. Mrs. Kaufman had played piano at the church they’d attended from the time the elderly woman was fifteen until the Sunday before her death. Like most of the kids who had attended the Presbyterian Church, Vera and Eve had taken lessons from her. Who could forget the ruler Mrs. Kaufman had used to snap their hands when they made mistakes? She wondered if Eve thought about that when she was preparing the body. Vera suspected there were times when the work was particularly satisfying.

Eve had stuffed cotton into the appropriate cavities of Mrs. Kaufman’s head. Now she negotiated the suture thread through the lower gum area and up into the palate, passing into the right nostril, through the septum, and into the left nostril before slipping back into the mouth. The two ends of the suture thread were fastened together, and voilà, the jaw was secured shut.

Vera pressed her lips together. She intended to be cremated. If she’d ever had any misgivings, she had none now.

“What happened that made you decide it was necessary to visit me at work?” Eve asked as she massaged Mrs. Kaufman’s lips and face. She glanced up. “It couldn’t wait until later?”

Eve never liked being interrupted at work. She insisted the preparation process was like art—one needed time and focus to do their best. And it was unquestionably intimate, between her and the deceased.

Vera’s stomach twisted at the thought of the less-dignified steps that came next—all for the entertainment of those left behind. Clean it out, stuff it, dress it up for proper presentation, and then stick it in the ground. Inside, she shuddered. “There’s been a development at the scene.”

Eve glanced up. “In the cave?”

Vera nodded. “They found more remains.”

Eve’s expectant expression slipped into a frown. “As in human remains?”

Vera made a face. “If they weren’t human, it wouldn’t be a development and we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

Eve stared down at the gray-skinned woman on the table. “Ignore her tone, Mrs. Kaufman. Vee has always been snippy, as you well know.”

Frustration lit inside Vera. “This is a serious matter.”

Eve met her pointed look with an indifferent one of her own. “I’m not stupid, Vee. I totally get it. This complicates matters.”

That was one way to put it.

“How could someone else bring a body,” Vera challenged, “not once, but twice—into that cave without our knowledge? How did they even know about the cave?” She shook her head. “And if they ever came back and saw her ...”

Eve made a “whatever” face. “They probably didn’t. But even if they did, what were they going to say? Hey, I hid a body or two in your cave. Did you put one there too?”

Vera bit her lips together to hold back an equally smart-ass response. “I mean, why wouldn’t they try and use the information for personal gain?”

Eve glanced down at Mrs. Kaufman, then hummed. “Who knows? Could be people who lived on the farm generations ago.”

Vera reminded herself that patience was essential. “I understand that might be the case. But it’s the possibility that someone involved with those remains returned after Sheree that we have to be prepared to deal with. Think, Eve. In all this time,” Vera demanded, “have you been aware of anyone exploring the farm? Maybe someone who asked to hunt on the property?” Preparation was key. They had to be in a position to provide some sort of reasonable explanation for any surprises.

“Daddy never allowed anyone to hunt the land.” Eve looked down at the deceased woman again, inclined her head, and frowned, as if noting some issue.

“What are you looking at?” Vera studied the dead woman’s face. She saw nothing that should be distracting Eve from the conversation. This was an important conversation.

Eve’s frown deepened, as if Vera had spoken in a foreign language. “I’m not looking at anything.”

“You keep looking down at Mrs. Kaufman as if there’s a problem.”

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