Townes’s concern was a knife in Murray’s back. Murray pinched the bridge of his nose, the dull throb which had been a regular companion crept back into his consciousness. He’d been micro-focused on Lucy Fagan and neglected to rectify gaping holes in the family ledgers. Fortunately, the task of bookkeeping fell to Murray, and Tallulah somehow hadn’t caught on. Maybe if he got his shit together he could win it all back before she noticed...
“Tallulah’s not stupid, Murray. She’ll figure it out eventually. Better to hear it from you than—”
“I know…I know.” Townes had carried a torch for Murray’s sister since high school, though she’d always been dismissive of him. Regardless of Townes’s motivation, Murray knew Townes was right. Tallulah deserved to know just how screwed they really were. “I’m not feeling so well. I should probably head out.”
Murray twitched as he took his glass to the sink. He needed time and space to think about what to say to his sister. Tallulah had always looked out for the family business, even though the family had never looked out for her.
Murray had been embarrassed and horrified by his mother and father’s posthumous snub, having left him everything and Tallulah with nada. He’d promised himself he’d give her half, but before he’d had the chance, Covid had sent the whole world sideways. In its aftermath, there wasn’t a whole lot left to give.
“Bro…you’re my best friend. I’ve got your back.” Townes clapped him on the shoulder while showing him out. His voice was sympathetic, but his face was grave. “But do the right thing and tell her so I don’t have to.”
Murray nodded. The Rev wasn’t playing, and he knew it.
Murray’s stomach clenched like a fist when he returned home to find Tally riffling through his desk in his office. Heart pounding in his temples, he readied himself for fight or flight.
“Fuck you, Townes.” Murray thought. “You could have let me get home before you tattled, you whipped little prick.”
“Jesus, Murray! I’m gonna put a bell around your neck.” Tallulah’s hand was on her chest. “For some reason the Visa got declined when I was trying to order embalming fluid. I need to call them and see what’s up. Have you seen the AmEx card?”
“Oh, sure. Here.” Murray pulled out his keys and unlocked the firebox on the shelf behind him. He handed her the card. “I take it we have a client?”
“Thirteen-year-old. The sheriff brought him in. Suicide.”
Murray opened his mouth to ask more questions, then decided he wasn’t ready to know more. Children’s funerals were the worst, and he had more immediate issues he had to deal with.
“Another day, another dollar.” With death dealing on the downswing, any business was welcome. If Tallulah knew how much they needed the work…
“Oh. Lucy somebody-or-another called and left a voicemail. She dropped a notebook at the Garrett funeral and is wondering if you happened to find it. Maybe in the hearse?” Tallulah fixated on him, but he knew it wouldn’t take twinning for her to figure out he’d broken protocol. No one rode in the hearse…and god forbid she compared notes with Martha. Though Martha wasn’t a talker, she’d seemed pretty annoyed when she’d caught him in the crypt with a disheveled woman 45 minutes after the interment had ended.
Time to throw her a bone.
“She needed a ride. I found it this morning on the floor.” He braced for criticism, but Tallulah gave none. It should have been a relief, but her silence unnerved him. She could be callous if she found anything out of line, but her lectures were always for his own good.
She’d always protected Murray, probably since the womb. His mother used to tell them how she’d find Tallulah holding Murray’s hand when they shared a crib. Murray never remembered his mother reading to him or singing a lullaby; that fell to Tally, who was only minutes older than he was. His favorite was “Dream A Little Dream,” and she indulged him every night for years. His earliest childhood memory was shattering a crystal decanter and Tally taking the blame. She’d earned herself a switching, but she never changed her story, even though she couldn’t sit for several days. It wasn’t the first time she’d lied for him, and it was far from the last.
“She said you can drop it off La Boheme anytime tomorrow. Seems she works there. Small world, huh?” She bristled, mentioning her former employer. Tallulah turned to leave, swaying a bit on her way to the door. She’d been drinking again, and he understood why. Halloween night was approaching, and signs of the season peppered Asheville. With jack-o-lanterns and decorative brooms came the anniversary of the Black Mountain Incident. If that weren’t enough, it was compounded with that stormy night five years ago, when a freak accident claimed both of their parents.
A good brother would say something about the day drinking, but then a good brother wouldn’t have pissed away her inheritance. Having polished off Townes’s whisky, Murray wasn’t really in a position to comment on the boozing either.
“Tallulah?”
“Hmm?” She turned back to face him and he took a breath. He’d just blurt it out, confess everything and let her rage. She’d spin down eventually and having his transgressions out in the open would be a weight off his weary shoulders.
“Don’t worry about Visa. I’ll call them right now.”
Working as a hostess, while pedestrian and annoying, supplied plenty of story fodder. Lucy had the owner wrapped around her finger, so she could set her own schedule. The time she did at La Boheme bridged the cost gap that her scholarship and financial aid didn’t quite cover. Her paycheck kept her fed, but cash handshakes with self-important men seeking a table with a view paid for cute shoes and beer.
Lucy had just finished seating one such customer and was sliding a ten into her sleeve when she felt the cool breeze of someone entering the vestibule.
