R.I.P

By Kathryn Collis

Jim and Maud McStuffem own and operate the Peaceful Rest Funeral and Reception Service, sometimes not as efficiently as they would like. An error on the part of their staff sees them getting on the wrong side of a Mafia don, Vittorio Paruzzi. As revenge, Vittorio kidnaps their makeup girl, Fleur, stashes her at his brother Mario's place, and holds her hostage for $500,000. Fleur is no shrinking violet (or, er, iris) and soon turns Mario's household upside down. Things become even more complicated when a rival Mafia don decides he wants the $500,000 and kidnaps Fleur from her captors. He has no idea what he is in for.

*****
Praise for Siblings: An intense, well-crafted story of how the people closest to us can become our worst enemies. Kirkus Reviews

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris AU
• Release date: Mar 19, 2015
• ISBN: 9781503503830

Kathryn Collis

Kathryn Collis has published sixteen books through Xlibris, including Siblings, Eating Well for Less Than $30 a Week, Not So Grim Fairy Tales, and R.I.P. Details of her works can be found at www.kathryncollis.com. Kathryn lives on Queensland’s Sunshine Coast.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Jim McStuffem rubbed his eyes. Doing the accounts always sent him into somewhat of a daze. He’d been looking at rows of figures for so long this morning, his eyes were glazing over. He was also going stir crazy from being stuck in his small office.

The office was about three metres square and it was pretty packed. There was a large wooden desk, on which sat his computer, telephone extension and ‘in’ and ‘out’ trays. Both trays were piled high with paperwork. Behind the desk was his ergonomically designed chair. Along the wall on one side were four large metal filing cabinets, all gunmetal grey. On the other side was a ledge. A combination printer/fax/photocopier sat there, along with an electric jug, some cups, teaspoons and a plastic container full of sugar. There was also a jar of coffee and a packet of tea bags.

Time for a break, Jim thought. He turned on the electric jug, then made his way from the office to the front reception desk, where he found his wife Maud on the phone.

Oh you poor, poor thing, Maud was saying. What say we throw in an oak or mahogany coffin- She broke off as she spied her husband out of the corner of her eye. Um, I mean, I’m sure we can work out something affordable.

Jim just shook his head. Maud was such a soft touch. She fell for every hard luck story going. Unfortunately, because they owned and operated the Peaceful Rest Funeral and Reception Service, just about every person they encountered had a hard luck story to tell. After all, they’d just lost a loved one, hadn’t they?

Maud was so naïve, so gullible. It was something that both exasperated him and made him love her, at the same time.

Her hair was grey and she’d lost her girlish figure a long time ago, but from the first time he had looked into her kindly hazel eyes, set in a round face that still shrieked innocence, he had loved her. He always would. So what if she’d put on a bit of beef over the years? He had once been a tall, strapping young man, but he seemed to have shrunk over the years, growing wider with it. He was just as grey as Maud and didn’t have her lovely face. His face was, always had been, so roughly chiseled he often wondered what she’d ever seen in him.

Maudie, he said, You were about to give one of our coffins away, weren’t you?

Knowing she had been thoroughly caught out, Maud blushed. Oh Jim, her husband died in a horrific car accident, and her only twenty-six years old, with a baby on the way. Poor little pet.

He shook his head. She would be giving coffins away right, left and centre if he didn’t keep an eye on her.

"Maudie, the coffins are the most lucrative part of our business. And we are a business, not some charity, you know that. How could we have put food on the table and put our kids through university, if not for the business?"

Their kids: Jim Junior, Maisie, Tommy and Elspeth. Jim had hoped that at least one of them would follow him and Maud into the business one day, but they’d had other ideas.

Jim Junior was an accountant. To be honest, that came in handy. In a way he was helping the business by auditing their books and filing their Business Activity Statements and tax returns.

Maisie had married young. Like Maud, she was a born mother and already had a brood of four kids of her own.

Tommy had been a bit of an airhead. It was no wonder he’d gone into acting, but at least he’d landed a part in that daytime soap Where Fate Leads Us.

Elspeth had been a spitfire of a thing. Her career in journalism definitely suited her personality.

Jim stopped reminiscing over his kids and said, Look, Maudie, we’ll do this young lady a good deal, but please, don’t give expensive merchandise away.

I’m sorry, she said. Oh Jim, sometimes you hear stories that just break your heart.

You’ve got a big heart, love, he said softly. It’s not about to disintegrate in a hurry. Just remember to put the business first, okay?

They’d had the business for going on eighteen years, having bought in before the Global Financial Crisis of 2007 to 2008. The previous owner, Terry Monahan, had a massive gambling problem – or so they’d heard - and had basically punted his business away. Jim and Maud had bought it for the proverbial song.

There wasn’t much goodwill to be bought with the business. Terry had well and truly tarnished his reputation. Many people distrusted him and few would deal with him.

As for the premises, which were situated in Sydney’s Western Suburbs, at least they were in reasonably good repair. The entry to the building featured white stucco-coated walls and an arched front doorway, as well as arched windows, making the facade somewhat reminiscent of Mexican or Spanish architecture. At each side of the entry door stood a statue of an angel. Terry Monahan – who, so the McStuffems had been told, claimed to be a devout Catholic - had supposedly had them erected. Whether this was true or not, well, who knew?

The reception area had cream coloured tiles on the floor and cream coloured walls, so that it was neither too stark and dreary, nor too cheerful. There was a waiting area with three two-seater lounges, all covered in black leather, and a large black chrome coffee table topped with glass. A single vase of flowers – currently roses – sat on the coffee table and provided the only decoration in that area.

The two reception rooms also fronted the road. Like the main entry area, they, too had a stucco-clad façade. They were used mainly for wakes, although the occasional family reunion had been held in them, as family reunions were occasions when predecessors were often remembered.

A large kitchen was placed between the two reception areas, so that both could be served simultaneously if the need arose. There was a bar situated in the corner of each area.

Besides the reception area near the main entry, and the two reception rooms with the shared kitchen, the sprawled premises consisted of Jim’s office a large chapel, a viewing room, a consultation room, the cremation area, and, inevitably, the embalming room. At the rear of the premises there was also a loading dock for deliveries: supplies, coffins, and of course, the bodies of deceased personages.

As Peaceful Rest Funeral and Reception Services was situated next to an aged care facility, Hibiscus Gardens, the funeral side of the business didn’t have to go far to drum up customers. Indeed, with death being an inevitability in life, the funeral parlour was kept extremely busy.

Since buying the business, Jim and Maud had built up a sound reputation as respectful, supportive and helpful funeral directors. If they were to be completely honest with themselves, they would admit that this reputation may have been a bit flattering but they were glad of it in any case. They had turned a run-down business into one of the most prestigious funeral parlours in Sydney.

The bell above the door clanged and a woman walked in. She looked to be somewhere in her late forties or early fifties and had what could only be described as a generous figure. This ample figure was encased in black tights – not exactly a good choice of clothing for someone her size. She had teamed them with a gold lame top. The pink mules she was wearing certainly didn’t match either item of clothing. Huge pink hoop shaped earrings dangled from both her earlobes. Her hair was a brash blonde. Obviously the colour had been achieved with the assistance of a bottle of peroxide or a Clairol kit, because dark roots showed through. It had been teased up and lacquered in place. Her face was so caked with make-up, especially around the eyes, it put Jim in mind of a cement rendered building. Either that, or Tammie Bakker on a bad day. She had what could only be described as a hard face, like someone who had crossed a few dry gullies in her time.

I’m Sissy Parker and I’m here about my mother, she said.

Maud, always the diplomat, enquired, Who would that be, dear?

Sara Johnson.

Oh yes, the woman who was to be cremated the following day.

How can we help you? Maud asked.

That bitch of a sister of mine organized this. Look at that flash coffin she picked. I gotta go halves in the thing but I didn’t even get a say in it. Not only that, we’re hardly even on speaking terms. I don’t want to be in the same room as her.

Well, that makes things a little difficult, Maud said. Perhaps if you sit on opposite sides of the room?

What? And have her and her stuck up friends looking at me like I’m a lumpa shit?

I-I don’t know what else can be done, Maud said.

"Yeah, well, figure something out. I have to pay half the funeral costs or I’ll never hear the end of it. So I should have some say about it. And another thing. Tammy asked for her to be cremated. I can’t imagine why she did that. Mum would have wanted to be buried whole. And I want somewhere I can take flowers to. I don’t want her sitting in some urn somewhere, or scattered into the ocean, or whatever. Maud opened her mouth to speak, but Sissy rattled on. I don’t see why we have to fork out for some flashy coffin that will cost the earth, just to have it end up as a pile of ashes."

We’ll sort something, Maud said in her most placating tone of voice.

Yeah? You’d better!

With that, she stomped out.

Jim had heard the ruckus and came out of his office, an enquiring expression on his face. Oh, this Johnson funeral is such a headache, Maud said, sighing loudly.

What’s the problem? he asked.

That was Sissy Parker, Maud said, indicating the entrance doors, where Sissy could be observed stomping back to her car. The two sisters don’t get along. The other one, Tammy Delacourte, made all the arrangements. As you might have gathered, if you heard what Sissy said, they hate each other so much, they can’t even stand to be in the same room. Her face crumpled. Oh, Jim, what are we going to do?

Jim thought about it. "We could have two funerals.

You mean…

Yes. Bury the old lady first, to suit this Sissy, then pull the coffin back out of the hole and have a second funeral, the cremation, for Tammy.

Maud thought about this for a while, then she shook her head. It wouldn’t work, she said finally. I mean, there’s no grave to bury her in. Tammy was going to take her mother’s ashes home in an urn.

Then I guess that means we’ll have to resort to Plan B, Jim said.

What’s that?

He sighed. I have no earthly idea. I haven’t thought of it yet.

Thankfully they didn’t have long to ponder their plight, because less than half an hour later, Tammy Delacourte turned up.

Maud looked up in trepidation. Oh dear, she thought, Sissy probably rang her and gave her an earful!

The two sisters couldn’t have been more different. Whereas Sissy was big, brash and loud, Tammy reeked class. She wore a cream suit. The short sleeved jacket had a nipped in waste that flattered Tammy’s tall, slim figure, as did the matching pencil line skirt which fell just below her knees. She had teamed the suit with cream court shoes that had what Maud judged to be three inch heels. Her short, straight brown hair was worn in a stylish bob. She wore very little jewelry, just a couple of very expensive looking diamond rings set in gold on the fingers of her right hand, and dainty diamond earrings, also set in gold, in her ear lobes.

Perhaps Sissy and Tammy were half-sisters, Maud thought, or perhaps one of them had been adopted. If so, that would have to have been Tammy. Maud couldn’t imagine anyone adopting the repulsive Sissy.

The McStuffems had seen Tammy’s photograph in the social pages of the newspapers, several times. She had apparently just ditched her fourth husband. He had been filthy rich, something to do with real estate development, and she’d been awarded a massive settlement.

Tammy had ordered a specially designed mahogany casket, the best. When Jim had seen the order, he’d had to resist rubbing his hands together.

Quietly spoken, Tammy said, I understand my sister has been here.

Why, yes, Maud said. How did you know?

She sent me a somewhat nasty text message to that effect. Tammy sighed. I don’t even know how she found out my mobile phone number. I know I certainly didn’t give it to her. We have little to no contact with each other. She looked suspiciously at Maud.

We didn’t give it to her, Maud said. We respect client confidentiality. We would never give out a client’s number, even to family. We assume that family members have each other’s phone numbers, and if they don’t, then there’s probably a very good reason why not.

Tammy nodded, satisfied. I’m sorry. I wasn’t accusing you of anything.

Maud came around from behind the reception desk and took Tammy’s hand. From what your sister said, we gather you don’t want to be in each other’s company at the funeral?

That’s right, Tammy said. Sissy is such a drama queen, I can’t imagine the scene she might stage. Which is so wrong. This is our mother, after all. I want her to have a dignified send-off.

We did think of having two funerals. You know, one a burial service, then take the coffin back out and have the cremation service. The thing is, that would mean purchasing a grave site on very short notice. I’m not sure that could even be done.

Tammy shook her head quite vigorously. I know Mum wouldn’t want that.

How do you know what your mother might have wanted?

Sissy is irresponsible, so Mum made me executrix of her will.

Maud felt an overwhelming urge to say that perhaps getting married four times wasn’t the height of responsibility, but wisely refrained from doing so.

Wouldn’t burying her twice be sort of, unethical? Tammy queried now. Illegal, even.

I’m not sure where we’d stand. I mean, if we were to retrieve the coffin from the grave site for the second service, it wouldn’t be covered over. So… technically speaking, she wouldn’t actually have been buried as such, would she?

Tammy pondered on this at length, then she shook her head quite vigorously. No, she said, That simply won’t do. I wouldn’t disrespect my mother, just to please Sissy. My mother wished to be cremated. She sighed. I guess I have no choice but to let Sissy come, but I’m definitely not sitting anywhere near her.

As you wish, dear, Maud said.

You have to understand, Tammy said. Our father left our mother when Sissy and I were very small, little more than babies, really. Mum did it really tough. We spent our whole lives going from caravan park to caravan park. I guess you could say that basically, we were little more than ‘trailer trash.’ In recent years I married well and was able to get my mother into Hibiscus Gardens. I’ve paid to keep her there. She had a hard life. I want this funeral to be a testimony to her courage and persistence over the years.

It will be, Maud promised her.

After Tammy had gone, she went to the office and told Jim about the discussion they’d had.

He turned to her and said, You’re up to something, I just know it. What mischief is running through your head, Maudie?

Maud afforded him a beatific smile that would have made the Mona Lisa proud.

The wake, like the funeral service itself, is being held here. Those two sisters are going to either learn to get along with each other, or else.

Or else what?

Or else it will be both a very interesting funeral, and a very interesting wake. With that, Maud sauntered back behind the reception desk and answered the ringing phone.

Jim grunted. Humph! It’s not like we didn’t give them an alternative! Even though the alternative might have been a bit dodgy, his conscience reminded him.

CHAPTER 2

Because Sara Johnson had been a complete atheist, her funeral service was to be conducted by a celebrant in the large chapel that was part of Peaceful Rest’s premises.

The McStuffems had met the celebrant, Simon Peeves, not long after taking over the business. In his late forties now, he was a tall, thin, dour looking man with straight brown hair, hooded dark brown eyes, a narrow face and a rather long and pointed nose. This gave him a somewhat forbidding aura. However, once people got to know him, they realized that his saturnine appearance concealed quite a wicked sense of humour.

Jim felt almost guilty to be handing the Johnson funeral over to his long-time associate.

Sissy and Tammy made Simon’s task an absolute nightmare. Both of them were ringing his mobile phone, day and night.

"I’d like Amazing Grace and The Twenty-Third Psalm to be sung, Tammy said. Perhaps one early in the service, and the other later on? I don’t imagine they’d be sung one after the other?"

No, Simon said, They’ll be interspersed in the service. By the way, who is going to deliver the eulogy?

Her best friend, Bonny. They were mates since school days.

Those hymns are most appropriate, Simon said approvingly, And to have one of her oldest friends giving a tribute to her is also very fitting.

Jim McStuffem had warned him that this funeral might prove very difficult as Mrs. Oh-please-call-me-Tammy Delacourte (as Jim had described her) and her sister Sissy – who, Simon thought, sounded very common indeed - did not get on and had very different ideas about the type of funeral they wanted.

Like the McStuffems, Simon had also seen Tammy and her fourth husband – her fourth, for goodness sake! – grace the social pages. She both looked, and sounded, lovely. No wonder four men in succession had fallen in love with her.

His pleasant experience with Tammy soon wore off when Sissy rang.

What songs did that stuck up bitch want played? she demanded, after telling him who she was.

"Um, Amazing Grace and The Twenty Third Psalm."

Sissy exploded. "What? Why would she ask for that religious crap? Mum was an atheist!"

Well, she perhaps thought they sounded dignified.

"Dignified, schmignified, I don’t give a stuff. Mum liked I Did It My Way. She