Read 11 Eleven On Top for Free Online Page B

I got to the funeral home Grandma was waiting for me at the entrance to the Executive Slumber Salon.
    “I don't know why they call this the Executive Salon,” she said. “It's not like Stiva's laying a lot of executives to rest. Think it's just a big phony-baloney name.”
    The Executive Slumber Salon was the largest of the viewing rooms and was already packed with people. Lydia Farstein was at the far end, one hand dramatically touching the open casket. She was in her seventies and looked surprisingly happy for a woman who had just lost her husband of fifty-odd years.
    “Looks like Lydia's been hitting the sauce,” Grandma said. “Last time I saw her that happy was... never. I'm going back to give her my condolences and take a look at Harry.”
    Looking at dead people wasn't high on my list of favorite activities, so I separated from Grandma and wandered to the far side of the entrance hall, where complimentary cookies had been set out.
    I scarfed down a couple sugar cookies and a couple spice cookies and I felt a prickling sensation at the back of my neck. I turned and looked across the room and saw Morelli's Grandma Bella glaring at me. Grandma Bella is a white-haired old lady who dresses in black and looks like an extra out of a Godfather flashback. She has visions, and she puts spells on people. And she scares the crap out of me.
    Bitsy Mullen was standing next to me at the cookie table. “Omigod,” Bitsy said. “I hope she's glaring at you and not me. Last week she put the eye on Francine Blainey, and Francine got a bunch of big herpes sores all over her face.”
    The eye is like Grandma Bella voodoo. She puts her finger to her eye and she mumbles something and whatever calamity happens to you after that you can pin on the eye. I guess it's a little like believing in hell. You hope it's bogus, but you never really know for sure, do you?
    “I'm betting Francine got herpes from her worthless boyfriend,” I said to Bitsy.
    “I'm not taking any chances,” Bitsy said. “I'm going to hide in the ladies' room until the viewing is over. Oh no! Omigod. Here she comes. What should I do? I can't breathe. I'm gonna faint.”
    “Probably she just wants a cookie,” I said to Bitsy. Not that I believed it. Grandma Bella had her beady eyes fixed on me. I'd seen the look before and it wasn't good.
    “You!” Grandma Bella said, pointing her finger at me. “You broke my Joseph's heart.”
    “No way,” I said. “Swear to God.”
    “Is there a ring on your finger?”
    “N-N-No.”
    “It's a scandal,” she said. “You've brought disgrace to my house. A respectable woman would be married and have children by now. You go to his house and tempt him with your body and then you leave. Shame on you. Shame. Shame. I should put the eye on you. Make your teeth fall out of your head. Turn your hair gray. Cause your female parts to shrink away until there's nothing left of them.”
    Grandma Mazur elbowed her way through the crush of people around the cookie table. “What's going on here?” she asked. “What'd I miss about female parts?”
    “Your granddaughter is a Jezebel,” Grandma Bella said. “Jumping in and out of my Joseph's bed.”
    “Half the women in the Burg have been in and out of his bed,” Grandma Mazur said. “Heck, half the women in the state...”
    “Not lately,” I said. “He's different now.”
    “I'm going to put the eye on her,” Grandma Bella said. “I'm going to make her female parts turn to dust.”
    “Over my dead body,” Grandma Mazur said.
    Bella scrunched up her face. “That could be arranged.”
    “You better watch it, sister,” Grandma Mazur said. “You don't want to get me mad. I'm a holy terror when I'm mad.”
    “Hah, you don't scare me,” Bella said. “Stand back. I'm going to give the eye.”
    Grandma Mazur pulled a.45 long barrel out of her big black patent-leather purse and pointed it at Bella. “You put your finger to your eye and I'll put a hole in your head that's