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hours, that will be fine. If not, then I’m sorry, but the state will have to dispose of it. I can let them know that you will be in contact with them.”
    “Thank you, Janet. I mean for calling and all. I know you didn’t have to do that.”
    “No problem,” Ms. Smith said, “but there is one other thing.”
    “And what might that be, Janet?”
    “You have to pay a fee before they will give you the body.”
    “A
fee
?”
    “I’m afraid so. There’s a two-hundred-dollar fee to have the body released to you, and they won’t take checks—only postal money orders.”
    “That’s a crying shame. The state kills him, and I gotta pay
them
to get the body?”
    “I know,” Janet admitted, “but they’re not my rules.”
    That’s crazy.
Isis looked at the clock. “It’s getting late, and I’m going to have to get out of here if I’m going to make it on time. I need to start making some phone calls, I suppose. Again, thank you very much.”
    “No problem.” Ms. Smith shared a few more details with Isis and then said, “Let me give you my extension just in case you have any problems.”
    As soon as she had hung up the phone, it rang again.
What is it this time?
She peeped at the caller ID. It was her half sister, Phoebe.
    Isis and Phoebe had an odd but strong relationship. Even though they shared the same father, they didn’t meet each other until they both were thirteen years old, at their father’s funeral. They were born four days apart; Isis was the elder. Those were tough times, especially for Isis, but despite their mothers’ hatred of each other, the two girls hit it off right off the bat. There was no jealousy between them. They were each just pleased to have an extension of their father in each other.
    Phoebe’s mother, Brenda, didn’t want her daughter to have anything to do with Isis, the daughter of the woman who had murdered her lover, but the girls paid her no mind. They became thick as thieves—better than Siamese twins, because they were joined at the heart.
    “Hey, sister,” Isis answered.
    “Hey, sister, tell me what’s wrong.” Phoebe knew her sister had been through the fire, but she sensed an additional stress in her voice.
    “How do you know something is wrong?” Isis tried to put a little pep in her voice.
    “Because I’m your sister and you can’t hide anything from me, that’s why.”
    “I just got a call from a lady from the DOC. She told me that I could come get Dave’s body.”
    “Well, Ice, that’s good—isn’t it?”
    “Yeah, but it’s just too much. It costs two hundred dollars just to get him from MCV. Then there’s the funeral. I mean, in all honesty, I never even thought about a funeral.”
    “Well, sis, what did you think they were going to do with the body? I mean, after somebody dies, there’s always, always a funeral. I mean, you got people out there that have funerals for their dogs.”
    “Yeah, I know, but…”
    “Okay, sis, just relax. Let’s think about one thing at a time. First, we have to get him. I got my half,” Phoebe offered. “You got a hundred on you?”
    “Yeah, but there’s more,” Isis said. “They said that his body was in a wooden box, and that we needed a truck or something or immediate arrangements with a funeral home, and I don’t get paid until next Wednesday.”
    “Now that’s some shit right there,” Phoebe said.
    “Which part: Having to pick the body up or me not getting paid until next Wednesday?”
    “Both. Damn.” Phoebe sighed. “Wait, doesn’t Dave’s mother have a truck?”
    Isis thought for a minute. “Yeah, you’re right. Good lookin’ out, sis. I’m going to call her now. Stay on the line. I’m going to call on the three-way.” Isis clicked over and dialed Ms. Davis’s number and then clicked back over to Phoebe, who sat silently listening in.
    The phone rang three times.
Nothing beats a failure but a try
, she thought, knowing full and well that getting a favor from the woman was going