He walked into the shop. As he opened the door the electric buzzer started, and stopped as soon as the door shut. Inside, the shop was even more impressive. There was a short counter dividing the room exactly in half. This was draped with a white-and-purple velvet cover. Several black leather arm-chairs dotted the purple pile carpet. On the left of the room was a large glass cabinet containing miniature coffins made of every conceivable material, from gold to pine wood.
On the right was a six-foot crucifix cleverly illuminated by concealed lights. The figure was so realistic that it quite startled Fenner. He felt that he’d wandered into a church.
Long white, black and purple drapes hung behind the counter. There was no one in the shop. Fenner wandered over to the cabinet and examined the coffins. He thought that as a permanent home the gold one was a swell job.
A woman came quietly from behind the curtain. She wore a tight-fitting black silk dress, white collar and cuffs. She was a blonde, and her big gashlike mouth was very red with paint. She looked at Fenner and her mouth shaped into a smile. Fenner thought she was quite something.
She said in a low, solemn voice, “Can I help you, please?”
Fenner scratched his chin. “Do you sell these boxes?” he said, jerking his thumb in the direction of the glass case.
She blinked. “Why sure,” she said. “They’re just models, you know; but was that what you wanted?”
Fenner shook his head. “No,” he said; “I was just curious.”
She looked at him doubtfully.
Fenner went on. “Nightingale in?”