Becoming Death (11 page)

My mother looked up, tapping her chin. “There must have been something you missed, some other factor in the popping.”

I looked around the food court before continuing. “The balloon got popped with a shovel but I pictured water. It makes no sense.”

“We have to accept that sometimes the popping isn’t done in the most obvious way or the bigger possibility that you made a mistake.”

I glared at her before picking up a fry. “I think I want to go to his funer— I mean, birthday party, so I can get a chance to find out what really happened.”

She poked at her salad. “I have to advise against that. What’s done is done. There’s no need for you to do anything further for that client. You should move on.”

I leaned forwards in my chair. “Really, so you’re telling me in all the years you’ve been a doing this, you’ve never gone to a birthday party?”

“Maybe one,” she said, fiddling with her pearl necklace. “I can’t stop you from making mistakes, but as you know the handbook warns against any interactions with the client’s family. Although, as long as you are respectful and don’t interfere no one will stop you.”

“Good. I guess. I should be able to make a decision like that myself without some rule makers breathing down my neck.” We sat in silence for a few moments before I asked, “Why that party? What made it special? Was it your first?”

“No, nothing like that.” She paused. “I felt like it was the place I needed to be that day, so I went along. I don’t regret it.”

“Did you get caught?”

“No, but if you do attend this one, it has to be your only one. You can’t just attend every client’s birthday party. People will pick up on it and start to ask questions. You have to protect yourself.”

“Fine, I will.” I pushed away my burger. I’d lost my appetite.

“Maybe your sister or I should accompany you to the service, just in case,” she said, pointing her fork at me.

“No way, I can handle it,” I said. “I’ll find out what really happened and be in and out of there in a flash.”

“At least wear something tasteful,” my mother said, rummaging through her shopping bag. “I bought the cutest sweater set today. I’m sure you could squeeze into it.”

“It’s alright, I still have that dress I borrowed last time.”

I arrived at Park View Cemetery five minutes before Max’s funeral was due to start. It seemed like a nice resting place; the grass was dotted with wild flowers and the headstones seemed to sparkle. It probably cost a pretty penny to be buried here. Max must have had more money than I thought. I was surprised to see all of the seats on the grass were taken and a few stragglers were standing behind them. He hadn’t done badly for someone that had come off as unlikable on our first and only meeting.

I nodded a polite hello to the other guests as I made my way to stand behind the chairs. I stopped next to a tall guy in a tasteful gray suit who looked like he had just come from a
GQ
photo shoot. He was few years older than me and had dark hair and deep green eyes—and he seemed to be fascinated by me. I played with my hair and avoided direct eye contact.

“I like your dress, very classy,” he said.

I looked down at the deep purple sundress I had chosen instead of my mother’s monstrosity. I reddened as I fixed one of the straps that had fallen off my shoulder. “Thanks. I guess.”

He held out a hand. “I’m Derek.”

“I’m Madison.” I reached my hand towards him but instead of it shaking it he turned it and kissed the top.

I pulled my hand back, rubbing the bit his lips had touched with my thumb.

“How did you know Max?” he asked.

Shit, I needed a cover story. Why hadn’t I thought of some reason for being here? “I killed him” definitely wasn’t going to cut it. “I ummm…”

“Oh, you don’t know him either?” Derek elbowed me in the ribs. “Don’t worry, I’d never blow your cover. I’m a professional mourner too.”

“You’re a what?”

“Oh, crap. Sorry, I thought I’d seen you around the circuit, maybe one of Bill’s crew.” He handed me a business card.

I looked down at it.

“I still don’t really get it,” I said, slipping the card into my purse. “Why would anyone need to hire people to be at their funeral?”

Derek shrugged. “It seems there are a lot of people out there who don’t have many friends or family. They hire us to fill the seats. We stand around, look sad and anyone who really knew the client doesn’t feel bad about a low turnout.”

I gave a throaty laugh. “Who would even pay for that?”

“Well, that guy Max did.” Derek pointed to the picture next to the casket. “The client arranges things ahead of time. He hired six people to be here, just in case. I guess he didn’t think anyone would show up to his funeral.”

“How would he know? He’s dead!” I said. A couple of the seated guests glared at me.

Derek held a finger to his lips.

“Sorry.” I lowered my voice. “How would someone know how many people had showed up or even if anyone did at all? You guys could just take his money and run.”

“We’re a business built on honesty. We have to be trustworthy or we’d be out of a job.” Derek wrapped an arm around me. “We assure all our potential clients by inviting them to attend example funerals so they can hand pick the services we provide.”

I shrugged. “It still sounds a little creepy, but I guess it’s not hurting anyone and it’s good that all the seats are full.”

“That’s how I see it. I founded this business after seeing my uncle Peter, one of the nicest guys in the world, only get four people at his funeral. I thought I could save others the embarrassment.”

“It’s nice of you to honor his memory this way. “

“He meant a lot to me. Anyway, enough with business. Why are you really here, Madison?”

I looked over at the casket. “I feel really guilty now.”

“Why?”

“Well, I’m kind of crashing this funeral. I was hoping to tag along to the wake and get some free food.”

Derek raised a eyebrow.

“I even brought my big purse,” I said, holding up my bag.

He laughed and covered his mouth. “That’s horrible.”

“You can’t tell anyone,” I said.

He shook his head. “I won’t. To be honest, that’s one of my favorite perks of the job.”

“You don’t think I should leave?”

He waved a hand at me. “No, you’ve got to eat. Plus these widows always put on way too much food. Most of it gets thrown away anyway.” He looked over at a devastated Sheryl in the front row.

“She’s not his wife,” I said out loud.

“How do you know?”

“I spoke to her when I came in. They’re divorced.”

“Looks like she still misses him, regardless,” Derek said.

“I hate funerals,” I murmured, looking down at my shoes.

“You chose a strange place to pick up free meals then. Maybe try a wedding next time.”

“Everything is so fake. No one seems to treat the dead with any ounce of respect.”

Derek glanced around at the other hired mourners. “I’m sure others aren’t that bad. How many funeral have you been to?”

“This is my fourth. If I hadn’t lost my job, I wouldn’t have to be here.”

“You’re crashing funerals cause you lost your job? Man, that is depressing.” Derek patted my shoulder.

I rubbed my eyes. Of all the horrible things that went along with my role, seeing others upset was probably the worst.

Derek scanned my face. “You know, you’re really pretty when you cry.”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “Seriously?”

“Gorgeous. Have you ever done any acting?”

“I was in a play in high school. Why?” I wiped my eyes.

“I know you don’t like funerals, but if you’re going to hang around them for the free food, you might as well get paid. How would you feel about trying out for our team?”

“You want me to be a professional mourner?”

“You look attractive when you cry, and I assume you can walk in heels,” he said, glancing down at my Doc Martins. “There isn’t a lot more to it than that,” he explained.

“I don’t know. I’ve needed a new job for a while but working at funerals everyday…”

“If you need the work, you can’t say no. It’s easy money plus there are other added benefits,” he said.

“Like what?”

“We’d get to know each other better.” He reached down and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear.

I blushed. He was kind of cute. “Fine, I’ll try it but no promises. When do I start?”

Derek glanced around as the priest started the service. “Now seems like a good time,” he whispered.

It took a while for Sheryl to take the makeshift stage. She stumbled across the wet grass, dabbing her eyes as she went. A man in a suit led her to the front, tapping her arm as they walked. When she arrived, he whispered something to her. She nodded. She shuffled her feet as she looked out into the crowd. Her eyes looked heavy. Her fingers tore at the edge of a piece of paper in her hand.

“Thank you all for coming. Max would have been pleased to know he had so many people that cared about him. I’m not going to stand up here and praise the kind of husband Max was, because the truth is he wasn’t the best man in the world, he was just Max.” Tears ran down her face and her words became quieter. “A man I had known for twenty years, who I’d loved until we grew apart when we wanted different things in our lives. Part of me will always love him, and in another world we could have still been together. I blame myself for not being there on the day—after all, Max and Mr. Rivers had never gotten along.”

“Rivers?” I took a step back, realizing what I had caused by imagining water. Not only had I killed Max, but I’d made a little old man into a murder. I held my chest as my breathing sped up. What had I done? My eyes began to water.

“You’re really good at this,” Derek said, touching my elbow.

I covered my mouth with my hand.

“Maybe, a little too good. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. That high school drama class must have really paid off.”

The priest had joined Sheryl at the front and was patting her back. “Why don’t you take your seat?”

Sheryl nodded, burying her face in a tissue.

“If there is no one else that would like to speak, I’ll start my closing remarks,” the priest said, opening his Bible.

My mouth hung open as a tall blonde woman rushed forwards and threw her body across the casket.

“I know her,” I said, taking a step forwards.

“No, Max, you can’t leave me like this,” she shrieked. “I need you.”

Sheryl rose from her seat. “Who are you? Get away from my ex-husband.”

Derek turned to me. “You know Cindy?”

“She’s my former boss’s sister. Wait, how do you know her?”

He rubbed the back of his neck and whispered, “She’s a mourner. She’s part of our crew.”

“Her?” I pointed at the woman who was still crying across the top of the coffin as Sheryl approached her. “I knew something was wrong with Linda’s funeral. She had never even mentioned having a sister.”

Derek pressed his teeth together. “Sorry about your friend. Cindy can be a bit over the top, but a lot of our clients like her dramatic flourish.”

As if on cue, Cindy shouted, “We were lovers! He was the only man to ever satisfy me.”

“I’m guessing this isn’t real,” I motioned towards the scene in front of us.

“Get away from him, you hussy,” Sheryl said, pointing at the younger woman. “Get off of my husband.”

Cindy huffed, pulling down her dress. “I see, now you regret leaving him?”

Sheryl’s eyes narrowed as the man in the suit held her back. “Let me at that stick insect.”

“Is she going to be okay? Should we stop them?” I asked Derek.

“No,” Derek took my hand. “Cindy loves the drama and the client probably requested the hysteric lover to make his ex-wife jealous. It’s one of our most popular packages. Come on, let’s get to that wake before all the good food is taken.”