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eternal rest?” He eyed her overalls. “It would be more, uh, economical.”
    Birdie leaned forward. “If by decedent vehicle you mean a hearse, I could ride in front with the driver.” Birdie couldn’t drive to Oregon on her own. Her license had been confiscated a few years ago. She failed the driving test when she bashed a police car while attempting to parallel park.
    Towsley coughed into his hand. “I’m sorry, dear lady, but only Pearly Gates employees are allowed inside the decedent vehicle. Insurance, and all that. But I could—for an extra fee, of course—arrange for you to ride in style in a limousine right behind your husband. In a sort of solemn and dignified cortège. Does this appeal?”
    She wrinkled her forehead. “How much would it cost?”
    â€œPortland, Oregon, did you say? Let me see.” Towsley turned his cell phone into a calculator and punched in numbers. “Rental of two vehicles, gas, mileage, meals, overnight accommodations, and salaries for two drivers, I’d say you were looking at roughly twenty-five hundred dollars a day.”
    He turned off his cell phone and smiled at Birdie. “Assuming the trip takes three days up and three days back, fifteen thousand dollars.”
    In a trembling voice, Birdie said, “Mercy! Fifteen thousand’s an awful lot of money!” Her eyes filled with tears.
    We couldn’t let money stop Birdie from leaving town.
    I put my arm around her shoulder. “We could cut the expense in half, Birdie. Lucy and I will drive you to Oregon. Right, Lucy?”
    â€œAbsolutely. We’ll take my car. It has plenty of room. We’ll follow the hearse, just the same as if you were in a limousine. We won’t leave your side until Russell has been safely laid to rest.”
    Towsley’s face fell. “Are you sure you won’t opt for the limousine? All three of you ladies could ride in comfort.”
    I squeezed Birdie’s hand. “We’re quite sure.”
    We followed him to the casket room, where coffins were strategically placed. A plain, unlined pine box sat closest to the entrance. The farther we walked into the room, the greater the prices grew.
    Halfway across the area, Lucy nudged me in the ribs with her elbow and whispered, “Get a load of that little number!” She pointed to a purple casket with a gold LA Lakers logo painted on the side. A part of the lid was propped open above where the head would be positioned. Pasted on the inside, for the deceased to admire for eternity, were smiling photos of Magic Johnson, Shaquille O’Neal, and Kobe Bryant.
    Birdie stopped in front of a large mahogany casket with brass handles. “This looks like something Russell would like.” She touched the white velvet lining. “Distinguished, but not too lavish.”
    A half hour later, she finalized the details, signed a contract, and wrote a check. Towsley promised to coordinate everything with the McMinnville cemetery.
    We headed west on the 101 Freeway toward Encino. When we got to the 405 interchange, Lucy said, “Dang it, I hate driving this part of the freeway. You have to move over two lanes so you don’t accidentally head toward Sacramento.”
    Birdie clutched the grab bar above the passenger door. “Well, how are you going to drive all the way to McMinnville, dear? We’re going to travel a thousand miles of freeway. What if we take a wrong turn?”
    I reached forward from the rear seat and patted Birdie’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. We’ll be following the hearse, remember? What could possibly go wrong?”

C HAPTER 5
    Once we got back to Birdie’s house, she insisted on making lunch. “I’m not sick, Martha dear. I’m perfectly capable of making a couple of cheese sandwiches. Besides, I need to use up this bread before it goes stale.”
    Lucy and I sat at the green table in her kitchen while Birdie