The Undertaker

“Dare? How dare I? You see, that's what got my juices flowing last night. You can screw around with my name and reputation all you want. They aren't worth very much to begin with,” I said, leaning over the desk again, my face getting even closer to him, my eyes blazing. “But when you dragged my wife into your little game, you made it very, very personal.

The look in my eyes must have been hot enough to scorch paint. Greene blinked and turned away, his eyes dropping to my driver's license again. “But this says you are from California,” he flicked the edge of the driver's license with his index finger, quickly changing the subject. “The Talbotts were from Columbus, right here in Ohio. So, I'm afraid you've lost me again, Mister Talbott. Who are you and why are you here, anyway?”

“Here? You mean in Columbus, or alive and walking around?”

“Mr. Talbott, if that really is your name, you're being entirely too melodramatic and too flippant about a very painful matter. Did someone send you here to cause trouble for me? Because if this is some kind of practical joke, I really don't appreciate it.”

“A joke? Suppose you tell me about the guy you buried.”

“You mean Mr. Talbott?”

“I think we've already established that he wasn't Mr. Talbott.”

“We have done nothing of the sort, young man.” Greene leaned forward and looked up at me with feigned anger. He had taken a couple of good body shots, but he was already picking himself up off the canvass. His voice turned more calm and confident as he tried to reestablish his authority. “I will admit that you share the same name and that you have some similarities in your backgrounds, but this is a very big country, Mister Talbott. I'm sure we would both be amazed by the number of people who share your last name.”

“Do you have death certificates?”

“Of course we have the death certificates; it's the law here in Ohio.”

“Signed by a doctor, a real one?”

“You should not make light of what was a very tragic situation. Mr. and Mrs. Talbott's mortal remains were forwarded to us by a very reputable medical facility, the Varner Clinic. Doctor Varner himself signed them and they are completely in order, I assure you.”

“Doctor Varner? Who identified the bodies?

“It was Doctor Varner himself and Mr. Ralph Tinkerton, their executor. He is a very prominent attorney with Hamilton, Keogh and Hollister downtown, the managing partner, I might add, so you should think twice before you go around impugning the reputation of a man of Mr. Tinkerton's standing or mine. He has many highly placed friends in this town. So do I.”

“Like Sheriff Dannmeyer?”

Greene blinked again and looked surprised. “Yes,” he finally answered. “Friends like Sheriff Dannmeyer.”

“Friends like the late Mr. and Mrs. Peter Emerson Talbott? Did you know them, by the way? Did he keep your books, too?”

“No. Regrettably, I was not acquainted with the deceased, but that is hardly unusual in this business. Mortuary science can be a solitary profession and we rarely know our clients. I am told the gentleman operated a small, but very successful accounting business on the near north side of Columbus, but I did not avail myself of his services. Mr. Talbott was however very involved in the local community. I believe Mr. Tinkerton knew him and frankly, sir, that is a lot more than I can say for you.”

I stared down at him, knowing I was running out of ammunition. “All right, what about fingerprints. Did you check those?”

“Why would I want to do something like that?”

“Because they weren't Peter and Terri Talbott, that's why.”

“Then you should take the matter up with the sheriff's office or with the Varner Clinic. As for me, there were legal death certificates, all signed and sealed in the proper manner, and that is all that the law requires of me.”

“No autopsy either, I bet?

“Mr. Talbott, we have very precise laws in this state. Autopsies are performed when we do not know the cause of death. In this case, there was no question. Doctors had attended both of them at the time of their deaths. A train struck their car. There was massive physical trauma and tissue loss, so no further analysis was required practically or legally and an autopsy would have been an unwarranted intrusion.”

“Funny, Dannmeyer said the accident happened out on the Interstate.”

“Then the good sheriff was mistaken, wasn't he?”

“The jarhead won't like you saying that.”

“You have exhausted my patience, Mr. Talbott. If you have any additional questions, I suggest you take them up with the sheriff himself. You'll find his office up in the town of Campbell right next to the courthouse… right next to the county jail.”

“And here I thought he ran things from your parking lot. How silly of me.”