Herb Flay pulled into the parking lot of the Fengriffen Funeral Home, passed the gloomy mansion proper, and parked in the back, in front of the four stall garage with an attached crematorium, where the lead cars, hearses, and company van were kept. The titled Fengriffen, Henry Fengriffen, no longer owned the place; he hadn"t for years. Henry had shuffled off his mortal coil, and followed a lifetime of clients into the great beyond, long before Flay ever heard of the place. Marlowe Blake, Fengriffen"s long-time associate, ran it now; had done since the morning after Henry"s game-ending chest grabber. Marlowe had thought it better for business to keep the trusted name.
Why the rather unprofessional sounding "Marlowe"? Well, he may have been Mr. Blake, Undertaker, to the parade of bereaved c
