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brew, I turned and stared at the sisters. “We have an appointment at the funeral home in an hour, and I don’t appreciate you going through my things.”
    That started the wailing again. For the first time, I got a look at Aunt Claudia’s face during a crying jag. No tears. No bloodshot eyes. My investigative antennae went straight up. Our gazes locked. She dropped her head on folded arms and sniffled. What a fake! Now to find out why the Academy Award–winning act.
    “Th="3ere’s no money for a funeral.” Aunt Claudia grabbed a napkin and dabbed her dry eyes. She peered at her sister from beneath lowered lashes. “Me and Fred have fallen on hard times.”
    “Oh sweetie, don’t you worry about a thing. We’ve got money, don’t we, Summer?”
    Where did we have that kind of money? My savings? My aunt’s cruise fund? “Sure. We’ll help.” I buried my face in my mug.
    “You two are such dears.” Aunt Claudia pushed her bulk out of the chair and got to her feet. She leaned against the table for support. “I’ll go upstairs and find something to wear.”
    Once I heard her lumber to her room, I turned to Aunt Eunice. “You have got to be kidding. I don’t have that kind of cash.” My aunt sent me a pleading look. I sighed. “I’ll use my charge card.” It was family after all.
    A grin split her face. “You pay half, and I’ll pay the rest.” Aunt Eunice clasped me to her ample flannel-covered bosom.
    I disentangled myself. “I’d better get dressed.”
    When my parents died a month before I turned six, I’d worn a pink ruffled dress to the funeral home. The one my dad said made me look like his little princess. As an adult, I didn’t think it would be appropriate to wear something frilly, and I flipped through the clothes hanging in my closet. What did one wear to pick out a coffin? In Mountain Shadows, the viewing and funeral would warrant wearing a dress. I might as well be comfortable today. I chose black pants and a maroon blouse.
    “Well, Truly, girl.” I spoke to my cairn terrier through the clothing as I tugged it over my head. “Something is rotten in Denmark or, in this case, the Meadows home.” My head free at last, I stepped into the pants. “Aunt Claudia acts the part of a grieving parent, but my gut tells me she’s nothing but a big old fraud.” Truly barked what I took to be agreement.
    “The question is”—I tugged the skinny pants over my hips—“why? I don’t mind forking over the cash for the funeral, well not completely anyway, but something doesn’t make any sense. And what do you want to bet Aunt Claudia picks the most expensive coffin?”
     
    Mountain Shadows Funeral Home had been built to look like a Southern plantation complete with carved white pillars on a wrap-around porch. Magnolia trees graced the sweeping lawn behind a driveway that circled a stone fountain. Definitely the place to be prepared for burial.
    I still hadn’t gotten over what Aunt Claudia had decided to wear. I could barely keep my eyes off the back of her fuchsia-colored, yellow flower-patterned muumuu. Fluorescent yellow flip-flops slapped against the brick path.
    Aunt Eunice elbowed me. “Stop staring. Claudia thinks she looks nice. She doesn’t have much money, you know.”
Or fashion sense. I checked my tote bag to make sure the names I’d written in a new notebook still nestled in the bottom. A person never knows when they might stumble upon a clue. And every one of my crime-solving books suggests a detective be prepared for anything.
    A heavily made-up woman with teased hair greeted us in a soft, comforting voice when we entered through the double-glass doors. She motioned us into a room to choose a coffin, and Aunt Claudia immediately ran her hand over the polished woods and stainless steel surfaces. She oohed and aahed and finally motioned to her choice.
    I peeked at the price tag. The Spring Rose. Moss pink, velvet interior. Price tag, three thousand, four hundred and fifty