'Til Death Do Us Part by Amanda Quick

into a tight chignon and crowned with an artificial flower. The hair decoration would have appearedalmost frivolous if it were not for the fact that it was fashioned of black silk. Her hands glittered with jet-and-crystal rings. A clear crystal brooch decorated in black enamel trimmed the bodice of her gown. Jet earrings dangled from her ears.
    â€œDo you sell a great many of these bells without the coffins?” Trent asked.
    â€œNo,” Mrs. Fulton said. “As I told you, they are not of much use without the specially designed safety coffin. I offer a wide variety of burial boxes at a range of prices. There is the basic model—the Rest-in-Peace—for those who cannot afford to send their loved ones off in a more fashionable style. But most people prefer either the Eternal Slumber design or the newest model, the Peaceful Dreamer. Cost varies with the materials and decorations, naturally, but all are equipped to accommodate the safety bell. Would you care to view our selection?”
    She motioned toward a shadowy doorway.
    Calista glanced into the other room and saw a number of coffins on display in the dimly illuminated chamber. She felt a distinct chill on the back of her neck.
    â€œNo, thank you,” she replied.
    â€œWhat we would like to know is the identity of the customer who purchased this particular bell,” Trent said. He took some money out of his pocket. “And we are happy to compensate you for the time it will take you to answer our questions.”
    Mrs. Fulton glanced at the coffin bell that Calista had placed on the counter. Her brows snapped together in a sharp frown.
    â€œHow did you come by it?” she asked.
    â€œIt was given to me,” Calista said. “The initials inscribed on it are mine.”
    â€œHow very odd.” Mrs. Fulton gave her a critical appraisal. “You appear quite healthy.”
    â€œI am in excellent health.”
    â€œYou are perhaps enjoying a miraculous recovery from some near-fatal ailment?”
    â€œNo,” Calista said. “I possess a remarkably sound constitution.”
    â€œI see.” Mrs. Fulton’s frown grew darker. “I’m not sure I understand what this is about.”
    â€œWe believe the bell was purchased recently,” Trent said. “You no doubt have a record of the transaction.”
    She regarded him with growing suspicion. “Why do you wish to know the identity of my customer?”
    Calista sensed Trent’s irritation and impatience. She stepped in to respond before he could say anything that would cause the situation to deteriorate further.
    â€œWe believe there was some mistake,” she said smoothly. “As you have observed, I am not at death’s door. Someone purchased this extremely fine and very expensive security device for an individual who, presumably, is dying. We wish to find the customer who purchased it so that he can give it to the intended recipient.”
    â€œVery odd.” Mrs. Fulton tapped one finger on the counter and contemplated the bell again. She finally appeared to make up her mind. “I suppose there is no harm in giving you the name of my client. If you will wait a moment, I will check my records.”
    She reached under the counter and took out a heavy journal bound in black leather. Opening the thick volume at a midway point she began to peruse the most recent entries.
    There were, Calista noticed, a great many sales recorded in the journal. The business of funerals and mourning was a large and thriving industry. Judging by the premises, Mrs. Fulton catered to a fashionable clientele.
    There was a wide assortment of expensive memento mori on display in the shop. One tall case was devoted to jet-and-crystal jewelry.Lockets, bracelets, brooches, and rings—most designed to hold a twist of hair from the deceased—were tastefully exhibited on red velvet. Artificial flowers made of black lace and silk were artfully arranged in vases