Till Death Do Us

DEATH DAY

Exhume the body?

Phineas could not help wincing at the mention of the dreaded E word. For Stiffs & Sons, "Rest in Peace" wasn't a state, it was a promise. The bereaved came to Stiffs because they sought the assurance of knowing their loved one will be taken beautiful care of, not just for the funeral, but in perpetuity. That was the promise his family had always made, the absolute assurance they gave. It was the basis for the trust the good people of Gravesend had bestowed upon them. From an early age it had been drummed into Phineas that the moment the terrible E word was associated with the Stiffs & Sons Mortuary Service, people would not react logically or rationally. All they'd know was that it happened under the Stiffs' watch. That the Stiffs' had allowed a loved one's eternal rest to be disturbed.

Phineas knew that thanks to the Terrible Mix Up and Egon Von Titus Barr-Cadwell plans to build his Cut-Rate Crematorium that the end of Stiffs might have been coming anyway, but if his great grandfather, Mortimer Stiffs, founder of the venerable family firm, ever heard about this, he'd roll over in his grave.

"Constable Ramaswamy, with all due respect," Phineas began, "we here at Stiffs and Sons have a longstanding policy against ever allowing the, er —" Phineas found that he couldn't even utter the dreaded word out loud — "the action you speak of to take place. I'm afraid I must let you know that we will resist any such attempt with all the legal resources at our disposal."

For the first time since he'd sat down at Seymour's desk, Constable Ramaswamy, raised his eyes and met Phineas's. Phineas wondered if the constable somehow knew that given the precarious financial state of the family firm, "all the legal resources at our disposal," probably amounted to very little.

Constable Ramaswamy's eyes were still fixed on Phineas. Now they narrowed slightly. "We will have to see about that," he said, a bit too ominously for Phineas's liking. Once again, the constable began to sort through the papers on Seymour's desk. "And next we come to the unfortunate matter of your father's current whereabouts."

"Yes, sir, but are we certain the circumstances qualify as unfortunate?" Phineas replied. "Isn't it a bit premature to be making such assumptions?"

Constable Ramaswamy flipped open a narrow pad upon which he had apparently written notes. "According to Madame Minnie, your father has never missed an appointment before without notifying her. She reports that she looked for him in his home and there was no sign of him. Yet his buggy was in the driveway. Would you not consider that highly unusual?"

"Well, yes, but –" Phineas caught himself.

"But?" the investigator repeated curiously.

"Uh, nothing," said Phineas.

"On the contrary, it appeared very much as if you were about to say something," Constable Ramaswamy said.

"Well, sir, only that my father's been having a slightly rough go of it lately," Phineas tried to explain, playing down the extent of the problems currently being faced by the funeral home. "He might have just needed some time off."

Constable Ramaswamy twisted the left tip of his broad handlebar moustache. "When you say a rough go of it, I assume you are speaking of your father's recent embarrassment concerning the bodies of our beloved former Mayor Del Guardia and that vile creature known as Trenchcoat Thompson?"

Aunt Minnie sighed loudly and twisted her shredded hankie into a tight little ball.

"Perhaps," Phineas allowed, feeling defensive. "Although we're still trying to figure out what happened. I'm confident we'll get to the bottom of it."