“There were two things Southerners hated to see knocking on their door. Jehovah Witnesses, because the majority of us were Baptist, and the undertaker. It was understandable that when Terk Rhinehammer opened the door, his face turned white as all the blood was drained from it after he looked past me and saw my hearse. "What's wrong?" He used his hands to pat down his chest. "I'm not dead, am I?”

“How do you know about Leotta?" It wasn't like I could tell him that Cephus Hardy was dead and right there about to give him the smackdown, nor could I tell him that I had seen his old Buick parked in front of Higher Ground when I acted like I had no idea he had a car and offered him a ride. "Isn't she still married to Cephus Hardy?" My eyes zeroed in on his facial expression. Cephus jumped around me and grabbed Terk by the neck. "Yeah, you sonofabitch!" "Stop!" I yelled, but it was too late.”

“There were two things Southerners hated to see knocking on their door. Jehovah Witnesses, because the majority of us were Baptist, and the undertaker. It was understandable that when Terk Rhinehammer opened the door, his face turned white as all the blood was drained from it after he looked past me and saw my hearse. "What's wrong?" He used his hands to pat down his chest. "I'm not dead, am I?”

“I won't tell if you don't." I winked.Granny laughed.In the South, a wink speaks louder than words.”

“Jephus Hardy?" Stunned. My jaw dropped when I saw Cephus Hardy walk up to me in the magazine aisle of Artie's Meat and Deli. I was admiring the cover of Cock and Feathers, where my last client at Eternal Slumber Funeral Home, Chicken Teater, graced the cover with his prize Orloff Hen, Lady Cluckington.”