We all went to the table and took our places. Grace was said at Christmas and Easter. Since this wasn't either of those, my father shoveled food onto his plate and dug in, head down, concentrating on the task at hand.
“What do you think happened to Uncle Fred?” I asked, catching his attention between forkfuls of lamb and potato.
He looked up surprised. No one ever asked his opinion. “Mob,” he said. “When someone disappears without a trace, it's the mob. They've got ways.”
“Why would the mob want to kill Uncle Fred?”
“I don't know,” my father said. “All I know is it sounds like the mob.”
“We better hurry,” Grandma said. “I don't want to be late for the viewing. I want to get a good seat right up front, and there'll probably be a crowd, being that the deceased was shot. You know how some people are nosy about that sort of thing.”
There was silence at the table, no one daring to make a comment.
“Well, I guess I might be a little nosy,” Grandma finally said.
When we were done I put some lamb and potatoes and vegetables in a disposable aluminum pie plate.
“What's that for?” Grandma wanted to know.
I added a plastic knife and fork. “Stray dog down by the Kerner's.”
“He eat with a knife and fork?”
“Don't ask,” I said.
Stephanie Plum 5 - High Five
Stephanie Plum 5 - High Five
Stephanie Plum 5 - High Five
7
STIVA'S FUNERAL HOME was in a big white house on Hamilton. There'd been a fire in the basement, and much of the house was newly rebuilt and refurnished. New green indoor-?outdoor carpet on the front porch. New ivory medallion wallpaper throughout. New industrial-?strength blue-?green carpeting in the lobby and viewing rooms.
I parked the Blue Bomb in the lot and helped Grandma wobble inside on the black patent-?leather pumps she always wore to evening viewings.
Constantine Stiva was in the middle of the lobby, directing traffic. Mrs. Balog in slumber room three. Stanley Krienski in slumber room two. And Martha Deeter, who was clearly going to be the big draw, was laid out in room one.
Not long ago I'd had a run-?in with Constantine's son, Spiro. The result had been the aforementioned fire and the mysterious disappearance of Spiro. Fortunately, Con was the consummate undertaker, his demeanor always controlled, his smile sympathetic, his voice as smooth as vanilla custard. There was never any ugly mention of the unfortunate incident. After all, I was a potential customer. And with my line of work it might be sooner rather than later. Not to mention Grandma Mazur.
“And who are you visiting tonight?” he asked. “Ah yes, Ms. Deeter is resting in room one.”
Resting. Unh.
“Let's get a move on,” Grandma said, taking me by the hand and pulling me forward. “Looks like there's already a crowd collecting.”
I scanned the faces. Some regulars like Myra Smulinski and Harriet Farver. Some other people who probably worked for RGC and most likely wanted to make sure Martha was really dead. A knot of people dressed in black, staying close to the casket—family members. I didn't see any representatives from Big Business. I was pretty sure my father was wrong about the mob doing in Uncle Fred and the garbage people. Still, it didn't hurt to keep my eyes open. I also didn't see any aliens.
“Will you look at this,” Grandma said. “Closed casket. Isn't this a fine howdy-?do. I get dressed up and come out to pay my respects, and I don't even get to see anything.”
Martha Deeter was shot and autopsied. They'd taken her brain out to get weighed. After she was put back together she probably looked like Frankenstein. I was personally relieved to see a closed casket.
“I'm going to check out the flowers,” Grandma said. “See who sent what.”
I did another crowd scan and spotted Terry Gilman, Hello! Maybe my father was right. It was rumored that Terry Gilman worked for her uncle Vito Grizolli. Vito was a family man who ran a dry cleaning business that laundered a lot more than dirty clothes. What I heard from Connie, who was connected in a nonparticipating sort of way, was that Terry had started out in collections and was moving up the corporate ladder.
“Terry Gilman?” I said with more statement than question, extending my hand.