I went over, lifted the lid. It was well finished inside, complete with a lead shell and a thick mattress.
“That’s an expensive box for a jail-bird,” I said, looking at Maxison. “Who’s paying for it?”
“Her husband,” he said, cracking his finger-joints and looking at Laura in a puzzled way out of the corners of his eyes.
I took out the mattress, fiddled around trying to get out the lead shell. I spotted the screws, and went over to the tool rack and brought back a long screw-driver. I took out the lead shell. Without the mattress and the lead shell there was an additional twelve inches from the bottom of the coffin to the top.
I did a little measuring and stood back, frowning.
“Could you put a false bottom to this?” I asked Maxison.
He gaped at me. “Yes, but what—”
“Skip it,” I said, and turned to Laura, who was watching me with large eyes. “Will you do something for me, kitten?” I said. I patted the coffin. “Get in here.”
“Oh no,” she said, with a shudder. “I—I couldn’t do that.”
“Please,” I said.