The Cool Room by Clifford Beck - HTML preview

Chapter 3

Frank spent many hours at his desk writing down ideas that might bring in more business when one afternoon his phone rang.

“Frank’s funeral home,” he said.

Professionalism is the key to running any business where contact with the public is commonplace, and Frank expected nothing less from his staff. On the other end of the phone line was the sheriff. Frank was on a first-name basis with nearly every member of the town’s law enforcement, but there was something odd in the sheriff’s voice – something that would burden him with the sight of trauma. “Sheriff,” he continued. “How are…” His normally outgoing greeting was suddenly cut off as the sheriff described in detail what was about to roll into his funeral home.

“Jesus Christ,” he said. “How many?”

Frank was silent as he brought his hand to his forehead. In all the years he had been in business, he had tended mostly to elderly clients. Occasionally, the victim of a car or hunting accident would be brought in, but nothing truly gruesome. Today would be different, and over the next two or three days, Frank would have his skills and those of his staff painfully tested.

The Sheriff continued to describe what would soon test the emotional strength of Frank’s staff as he wrote notes about how the accident was believed to have happened. Soon, his fax machine hummed to life as a lengthy report arrived from the Sheriff’s office. Removing it from the machine’s tray, he scanned it over as his eyes widened. “Yeah, Sheriff,” he said. “I just got it. Will you be arriving with the bodies?”

Normally, the Sheriff would accompany a body arriving from the Medical Examiner’s office, but having been on-scene two days before, he decided against it. He felt that he had experienced enough dismemberment for one day, and chose instead to flush the sight of it from his soul with a night of binge-drinking. A few hours later, two of the Sheriff’s deputies drove up to the funeral home, with two hearses following behind. Frank, who had already summoned his staff and adequately prepared them, was waiting at the side entrance. Out of respect for the community as well as the deceased, clients were always brought in through the side entrance. This was also done to prevent those nearby from gawking at what was a daily sight. Maintaining the dignity of the departed was something seen by the industry as both necessary and absolute. The transportation of the dead was also done in silence for the same reason.

The bodies arrived in standard black body bags. The Medical Examiner’s office did not have the luxury of velvet body bags -- working on a tight budget, standard equipment was the norm. Having entered the side door, the funeral home staff took possession of the remains as Frank signed the necessary legal forms. From there, the gurneys with their lifeless cargo were taken by elevator to the embalming room, where Frank and his staff of two looked over the medical examiner’s report. “Holy shit,” he said. “I think we’ll start these in the morning. Go home guys. Get some sleep.”