Morty glanced over at Mr. Hal again, who was staring into his cup, looking as stupefied as I felt. “I know I picked him up, ma’am. That’s my job, but it’s not my job to return a body. Living or dead.” Morty hushed when the high-pitched squabbling started up again. “I understand. . . . I’ll make an exception just this once. . . . Okay . . . I’ll bring him home shortly.” Morty hung up the phone and took a deep breath before leaning in my direction and whispering, “I told you —the dead are much more agreeable than the living. His wife won’t come get him because it will interfere with watching her soap operas.”

Oh, I mouthed when nothing more brilliant came to mind.

Morty bent down in front of Mr. Hal and removed a paper tag from his big toe. “Just be glad you came to before I started the embalming process.” He released a nervous giggle.

Having had enough of the funeral home to last a lifetime, I snuck out and booked it back to the library to find Miss Jones. As soon as I stopped in front of her desk, she gave me her usual look that was a combination of amusement and apprehension.

“What can I help you with this time, Austin?”

“Umm . . .” I fidgeted although I knew she’d help. Shoot, I’d already had her look up an array of odd subjects, why not one more? “Embalming?” I hitched a shoulder, trying to brush off the weirdness with no success.

Her eyebrows pinched, lips screwed into a pucker, but she went on a quest to find what my curiosity was seeking. I didn’t think this request was much worse than male puberty last month. I was pretty embarrassed by that one but more concerned as to why my brothers were smelling like corn chips and soured onion dip. Answers were needed, pronto. Good thing she found a book about the subject, because other concerns came about shortly.

The subject I really wanted to ask her to find material about was always on the tip of my tongue. But I held back, knowing if I asked for books about grief and mood behaviors, it would tip her off to what we were hiding out on the farm. I’d plunder the shelves every so often to see about finding something myself, but there wasn’t much on the subject. It was probably hiding in plain sight, like a lot of things.