"There has got
to be something really, really wrong about this," Tim said as he snuggled under
the flannel-covered down comforter.
"You think?" his companion answered.
"Well, I don't usually use funerals as pick-up places," Tim responded.
"Well, I use them all the time," Bernie replied, pulling Tim closer.
Tim chuckled and pressed his lips to Bernie's, sliding his tongue deeper and
deeper.
It had started
innocently enough. Tim had gone with Munch to pick out a coffin for Crosetti.
The instant he had entered the room filled with coffins, he knew. There was
a magnetism between him and Bernie Munch that was not to be denied. He had managed
to hold it in while John and Bernie dickered over price, but as soon as he had
a chance that afternoon he snuck back to the mortuary under the pretense of
checking on the coffin liner.
"John asked me to make sure you were using the silk and linen liner," Tim said
as he sidled up along the mahogany box. Tim managed to keep away any thoughts
of the drowned, bloated Crosetti residing in the box.
"Of course I'm using the linen. What does that schmuck take me for?" Bernie
asked as he cocked his head toward Tim. "So, John never mentioned me?"
"Well, we don't work together much, but we are buying the bar together..." Tim
stammered.
"Ah yes, the bar. John's little side enterprise. Did he tell you that he borrowed
that money from our mother? Took it right from her retirement nest egg. Typical.
John has never taken care of himself, always willing to let others shoulder
the burden. The wives...I don't need to say any more," Bernie responded.
"And you? A string of ex-wives as well?" Tim asked, leaning back on the coffin.
The box wobbled slightly on its frame. He jumped away.
"Sorry, I don't usually have people leaning on them," Bernie said as Tim turned
to make sure he had not knocked the coffin over. "Perhaps we should adjourn
to the parlor."
Bernie led Tim into a softly lit parlor. There was a closed coffin at the far
end of the room.
"You expecting company?" Tim asked.
"We'll lay Mrs. Horowitz out this evening. The mourners won't show for a couple
of hours," Bernie replied, leering at Tim.
"So, we're alone?" Tim asked.
Bernie nodded, pushing Tim down onto a love seat.
"So, you were telling me about your wives," Tim said, watching Bernie as he
loosened his tie.
"I was going to tell you that I never married. Unlike my more unfortunate older
brother I've never had much use for women. I prefer to find my pleasure in...other
venues. You get?"
Tim nodded. Bernie leaned in and began kissing him.
Tim sat up slightly as Bernie pulled away. "You ever, do it...you know, in the
box?"
"I don't mix business and pleasure, Detective Bayliss," the mortician responded.
"Huh, well, I just wondered what it might be like..." His response cut-off as
Bernie reached in his pants and throttled his prostate.