I left Grandma to her own devices and went in search of Melvin Sokolowsky, locating him in his office just off the front entrance. The door to the office was open, and Sokolowsky was seated behind a handsome mahogany desk, tapping who knows what into a laptop. I rapped lightly to get his attention.

He was a nice-looking man in his mid-forties, dressed in the standard conservative dark suit, white dress shirt, and sober striped tie.

He raised eyebrows at the sight of me standing in his doorway. “Yes?”

“I want to speak to you about funeral arrangements,” I said. “My grandmother is getting on in years, and I thought it wouldn’t hurt to get some ballpark figures on caskets.”

He hauled a large leather-bound catalog up from the bowels of the desk and flipped it open. “We have several plans and a good selection of caskets.”

He turned to the casket called the Montgomery.

“This is nice,” I said, “but it looks a little pricey.”

He thumbed back a couple pages to the pine section. “This is our economy line. As you can see, they’re still quite attractive, with a nice mahogany stain and brass handles.”

I checked out the economy line but didn’t see anything nearly as cheap-looking as Stiva’s missing caskets. “Is this as cheap as you get?” I asked. “You have anything without the stain?”

Sokolowsky looked pained. “Who did you say this was for?”

“My grandmother.”

“She cut you out of the will?”

Just what the world needs … one more sarcastic undertaker. “Do you have any plain boxes or what?”

“Nobody buys plain boxes in the burg. Listen, how about if we put you on a payment plan? Or maybe we could skimp on the makeup … you know, only set your grandmother’s hair in the front.”

I was on my feet and halfway to the door. “I’ll think about it.”

He was on his feet equally as fast, shoving brochures into my hand. “I’m sure we can work something out. I could get you a real good buy on a plot….”

I ran into Grandma Mazur in the foyer.

“What was he saying about a plot?” she asked. “We already got a plot. It’s a good one too. Real close to the water spigot. The whole family’s buried there. Of course, when they put your aunt Marion in the ground they had to lower Uncle Fred and put her in on top on account of there wasn’t much space left. I’ll probably end up on top of your grandfather. Isn’t that always the way? Can’t even get no privacy when you’re dead.”

From the corner of my eye I could see Sokolowsky lurking in his doorway, sizing up Grandma Mazur.

Grandma Mazur noticed too.

“Look at that Sokolowsky,” she said. “Can’t keep his eyes off me. Must be this new dress I’m wearing.”

We went to Mosel’s next. Then we visited Dorfman’s and Majestic Mortuary. By the time we were on the road to The House of Eternal Slumber I was punchy with death. The smell of cut flowers clung to my clothes, and my voice had locked into hushed funereal tones.