In fact, I am terrified of them—their oversized shoes, their red noses and crazy hair, and worst of all, their painted faces with the fake smiles. The town morgue had brought over the corpse. Janet arrived shortly after that. Janet, the funeral home’s cosmetician, made the bodies presentable, and she was about as cheery as you would expect a woman like that to be. She was nice enough, although she was maxed out as far as social awkwardness went. “It’s going to be a late night, boss,” Janet said, as I let her into my office. She held up her large cup of coffee. “I would have brought you one, but I don’t think of you often.” “It’s fine,” I said, hiding a smile at Janet’s words. “This will be our first clown funeral.” I shuddered and rubbed my arms. “The deceased is Lynette Smith, and the client is her daughter, Daisy. Daisy and her mother were in business together as professional clowns.” I shuddered again. “Daisy has supplied some photos so you can see how the clown makeup is supposed to look.
