Ye Olde Spice Shoppe

Ye Olde Spice Shoppe

"Morning, Sandy!"

"Oh, hi, V. You're in early," her friend and co-worker said when she saw her on the 'rack' doing Pilates.

"I think the sound of the rain put me to sleep last night. I laid down around ten and didn't wake up until my alarm went off at 7am."

"I love the sound of rain!"

"Me, too. It's like heaven on earth! Anyway, I felt so good I wanted to get in the gym and get started."

"Wow. You sure it was just the rain?" her best friend asked with a devious smile.

"Meaning?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe you...met someone? Someone really cute who um...helped you...relax?"

"Ha, ha. Very funny!"

"Vanessa? You really need to find someone," her friend told her, a sound of desperation in her voice.

"Why? I like my life."

"Honey? I'm your best friend, and I know you better than you know your own self. You put on a brave face, but you are not happy. Well, not the way you want to be."

Vanessa was trying to come up with a carefully worded reply that would convince her BFF that she was just fine. But a part of her knew that Sandy was right. She was 41 years old and there were times when the loneliness was so bad it felt like an oppressive weight crushing here in some very real, physical way.

"Yeah. You do know me too well," Vanessa quietly replied.

"V. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be like that. I was only tryin to be...."

"Hold on," Vanessa said, the ringer on her phone interrupting their conversation.

"Hello?" she said after fishing her phone out of the little bag she carried around with her during workouts as Sandy waited to finish her apology.

"Yes, hello. Is this...Vanessa Moore?" a male voice asked.

"Yes. May I ask who's calling?" Vanessa replied as she moved to a weight bench that was right behind her and sat down.

Sandy sat on one across from Vanessa but couldn't hear the other end of the call . Even so, she could tell by Vanessa's facial expression that it was serious.

"Ma'am, my name is Detective Neiss from the Portland Police Department."

Her heart stopped when she heard 'Portland', the city where she'd grown up then gotten into so much trouble and finally left to start a new life in Seattle nearly 20 years ago.

"Yes," she said, barely breathing.

"Vanessa? What is it? What's going on?" Sandy asked.

Vanessa held up her hand as the detective continued.

"Do you have a brother named Gabriel Alan Moore?"

"Yes," she said even more quietly.

"Ma'am, I'm terribly sorry to have to tell you this, but your brother was killed in a traffic accident around 6:30 this morning."

Unable to speak, Vanessa sat there holding the phone while her mind raced as Sandy pleaded for her friend to tell her what was happening.

Gabe was the straightest arrow Vanessa had ever known. He was the one who got her off the drugs and provided her with enough money to start over. They only spoke by phone once or twice a month by phone, and every other year one of them would visit the other for Christmas, but she loved him more than anyone else on earth.

Ironically, both of their parents had been killed in a car accident was she was 16 and Gabe was 20. He'd done his best to care for her, but after the accident Vanessa's world fell apart and within six months she'd lost her way. For the next three years she hung out with the wrong crowd and, after turning 18, lived with a guy who was nothing but trouble.

He was ten years older and completely wrong for her, but he was so hot and so dangerous she'd been drawn to him like a moth to a flame. Looking back she was pretty sure she saw him as some kind of surrogate father figure in her life, a life she came very close to losing after overdosing late one night.

It had been the Portland PD that called Gabe when they found his sister unconscious and barely breathing. They took her from a place she had no business being to a hospital where, with Gabe's permission, a doctor put her in a medically-induced coma to help her get through the withdrawal process without going through the excruciating ordeal while conscious.

Knowing that addiction was mental as well as physical, Gabe insisted she move in with him so he could help her avoid returning to her former ways which she knew might not end as well were there a next time.

To her credit, Vanessa stayed straight, got a job, and turned things around completely. Two years later, when she was 21, she left Portland for Seattle and had never gone near drugs or even alcohol since. In fact, she'd gone to the other extreme and worked her way up to exercising six days a week and rarely ate junk food of any kind. As a result, she looked a lot younger than her 41 years, and was often mistaken for someone closer to 30 than 40.

The detective assumed she might be in shock and said, "I understand he owns a business called...."

The detective checked his notes then read, "A place called...Ye Olde Spice Shoppe."

That was true. Gabe took over the store from their parents after they died, and it was almost certain that he was on his way to work. Gabe had never married, lived alone, and routinely got to the shop two hours before it opened.

"Did he...was Gabe...did he suffer?" she finally was able to ask, her hands trembling as a wave of nausea hit her.

Sandy gasped and covered her mouth with her hands once she understood what had happened. She knew Gabe and also knew how much Vanessa loved him, and that he was the only family she had left.

"Yes. It was a head-on collision with a semi, and...yes. He died instantly," the detective said in an apologetic tone of voice.

For the briefest of moments, Vanessa thought about the detective who was on the phone.

"I'm sorry you had to be the one to call me," she told him.

"Thank you, but this is a part of my job, ma'am. I just feel terrible having to call you out of the blue and give you the worst news of your life," he told her, his voice changing from official to something more friendly.

She didn't tell him that it wasn't as horrible as hearing from another police officer that both of her parents had both died together some 25 years ago. She only thanked him for the call.

"I uh, I guess I'll be heading to Portland sometime later today or first thing tomorrow morning then. Can you tell me where his body is?"

Detective Neiss, whose name sounded like 'niece', gave her the name of the morgue and apologized again.

With that, she hung up the phone and sat there and stared into space as her mind raced through a lifetime of memories with Gabe and their parents and their lives growing up in Portland during the 80s and 90s.

"Vanessa. Honey. I am SO sorry!" Sandy said as she got up in order to hug her best friend who was just sitting there not moving or even blinking nor did she even return the hug.

Thirty minutes later, she was back home and unable to think.

Somehow she managed not to cry, but the sense of loss she felt was crushing her, and at some point the weight was so heavy she felt like she couldn't breathe. When that happened, Vanessa got up, and because it was cold and rainy outside, went to the room where she had a NordicTrack treadmill, and pounded away at it for nearly an hour until exhaustion replaced the gloominess of grief. The relief was temporary, but for a few hours, she was able to think and function clearly again, and that let her make the decision to pack then and leave the following morning.

Sandy let their boss at work know what was going on before Vanessa left town to take one small detail off of her plate.

The following morning, Vanessa showered in a daze. Once she was dressed and ready to go, she tossed her makeup and some other personal items in a small suitcase and sat it next to the larger one she'd packed the night before.

She took enough things to stay for a week, the longest period of time she could reasonably see needing to be away as she rode a roller coaster of emotions as her brain tried to process this huge new change to her life even as she grieved for the loss of Gabe's.

Then again, unless she stayed there, she'd need to find a realtor who sold commercial property to sell the store for her. Finding an agent would be easy. Selling the store could take weeks, and she had no intention of staying that long.

Beyond the funeral, selling the store was her biggest concern, and Vanessa was neither a real estate agent nor an attorney. She would need to contact both even as she claimed her brother's body and planned a service she wasn't sure would be well attended. She didn't know any of Gabe's friends with one exception, and she wasn't sure how to contact him. Her brother not only hadn't ever married, he also had no children, and to the best of her knowledge, they didn't have any other relatives within 500 miles.

The October weather was awful as she headed south on I-5 for the 2-3 hour drive which largely depended on traffic. Between the rain and the dark, gray skies, it was not only depressing, it was relatively slow going as she drove along between 40 and 50mph, the wipers slapping back and forth on high most of the way there.

She got into town around noon, and decided to go to the hotel where she'd made reservations for the next five days and maybe get something to eat before facing the reality of the morgue. But after checking in and laying down for a few minutes, she realized she couldn't relax nor did she feel like eating, so she got up and found the address of the morgue online, set it into her phone's GPS, then followed directions until she arrived.

She was surprised to learn that it was located in the basement of the Portland Police Department headquarters building, so when she went inside, she asked the officer out front if a Detective Neiss worked there.

"Yes. Would you like me to let him know you're here?" the woman of about 30, whose hair was pulled into a tight bun in back, asked.

"If he's not too busy, yes, please," Vanessa told her, again a little surprised to find out he happened to work in the same building that was keeping her brother's remains.

She watched the police officer hit two buttons on the phone then say, "Detective? There's someone out front asking to see you."

She hung up the phone then told her he'd be right out. She thanked her then sat down on a wooden bench and waited.

Less than a minute later, a man who looked nothing like she'd imagined, stepped into the large lobby and looked her way.

"Ms. Moore?" he asked as he walked toward her.

Vanessa stood up, smiled, then said, "Yes."

"Hello. I'm Detective Neiss. It's a pleasure to meet you, but considering why you're here, I...."

"It's okay. Really," she told him as she offered her hand. "And it's nice to meet you, too."

"Is it safe to assume you might be going downstairs to, you know, to...."

"Yes. I...I just wanted to thank you in person. I really can't imagine having to make those kinds of calls let alone going to someone's house to tell them such bad news."

"It's not my favorite part of the job," he told her truthfully before asking if she'd like him to go with her.

"I don't want to take up any more of your valuable time. I only wanted to say 'hello' and...."

"No. My time is your time, and it'd be my pleasure," the younger man told her.

"Well, if you're sure," Vanessa replied.

"I'm positive," the detective told her as he smiled politely.

"Thank you. That would be very nice."

"I wouldn't want anyone to have to do this alone, so I'm happy to go with you. If you'll follow me, I'll escort you down to the basement. You need a badge to get in, so if not me...."

He smiled again, and as they walked, Vanessa said, "I hate to admit it, but I was very surprised when I saw you."

He laughed then said, "I'm afraid to ask what you were expecting."

"Oh, no. I just...."

She was going to tell a white lie, but fessed up.

"I suppose I was expecting someone at least my age, maybe a little...overweight, and someone with...less hair?" she said more as a question than a statement.

Detective Neiss was none of those things. In fact, he was the opposite in every way. He was a good four inches taller than her, well built, had thick, very dark hair, and was actually quite handsome. She guessed him a little under 30, if that, so in every area, her stereotype was blown apart.

He laughed again as he opened the elevator door then punched the button for the morgue which a 'B' for basement.

"Well, give me another ten years, and who knows?" he said as he patted his flat stomach while they waited for the door to close.

"I don't see that happening," she told him with a little smile of her own.

"Well, truth be told, I was also surprised—very pleasantly so—when I saw you, so I suppose that makes us even?" he said, almost asking it as she'd done.

"I know better than to make assumptions. Gabe, my brother, always said never to assume because it makes...."

"An ass out of U and ME?" Detective Neiss said as he turned his head and smiled at her just as the elevator door opened again.

She started to smile but stopped when she saw what was in front of her.

"Oh, wow," Vanessa said as stepped out and looked around.

"Yeah. This place is cold, sterile, and still gives me the creeps every time I come down here," her escort said.

"Yes. Just like death," Vanessa replied quietly as the starkness of the morgue hit her.

"Brian. You here to claim a body?" a man of about 60 with mostly white hair and a white goatee asked.

"Hi, Doc. Yes. This is Vanessa Moore. We're here for her brother Gabriel."

"Ah, yes. I'm so sorry for your loss, Ms. Moore," the coroner told Vanessa. "If you'll follow me."

Just like in the movies, there were two rows of silver-colored, metal vaults with handles. The medical officer looked at the top row, moved his hand to the right as he read the names, then dropped down one row.

"Okay. Here we are."

He pulled the door open revealing a white sheet that was clearly draped over a human body.

"Take whatever time you need," he said to Vanessa before nodding to the police officer.

"Are you ready for this?" the detective asked.

"No, but it has to be done, so...."

"Would you like me to...."

"Yes. If you wouldn't mind."

He reached out and grabbed the sheet on either side of the head then slowly slid it down over the face that caused Vanessa to gasp even though she was as ready as she could be.

She wasn't expecting her brother's face to look the way it did, but she soon realized she'd never seen a dead body that hadn't been embalmed and carefully made up.

"Is that enough?" the detective respectfully asked.

"Um...yes. Yes, thank you," she replied as he pulled the sheet back up over his face.

"You okay?" he asked as he pushed the tray back in.

"I don't know," she replied, her voice sounding hollow and weak.

"Listen. If you'll sit down with me upstairs, I can help you get your brother moved to a funeral home or whatever you plan to do."

"Um...I...that...that would be very helpful," she said as she finally looked at him again. "I haven't lived here since I was 21, and everything has changed. I don't really even know where to begin."

"Then let's go sit down together, and we'll find a funeral home and give them a call. If you want or need to go to the spice shop, I'll be happy to take you there or anything else you might need."

"That's very kind of you," Vanessa told him sincerely as they got back in the elevator.

"Have you had a chance to eat yet?" he asked as they reached the ground floor.

"Oh. No. I...I wanted to, but I just couldn't make myself. But maybe once we finish with the arrangements I'll find somewhere to go."

The door opened as she asked if he had any recommendations.

"Oh, sure. All kinds of them. But if you can stand my company, I'd be happy to take you somewhere unless you'd rather have some time to yourself."

"No. I...I've been dreading being here alone and doing this by myself, so if you don't mind, that would be wonderful."

"It'd be my pleasure. For now, let's see if we can take care of a few things then I'll offer you a choice of several different places where we can grab a bite to eat," he told her with a warm smile.

"That sounds very nice. And thank you again, Detective."

"Brian. Please," he told her.

"Okay. Brian it is. And I'm Vanessa."

Detective Neiss helped her scroll through funeral parlors online, a difficult task at any time for anyone, but especially under the circumstances.

"They all seem the same," she said after looking at five different advertisements.

"This one's not far from the hotel you said you're staying at or the spice shop," Brian told her as he pointed to one.

"I'm sure one's as good as the other, don't you think?"

"Honestly? I can't say. But I'd guess that's right. Can I call them for you?"

"I think I'd like to go there and speak to someone in person."

"I'll drive you," Brian offered. "And we can get something to eat when we finish."

"I know you said my time is your time, but you really don't have to do this, Brian."

"In Portland, policing means a lot more than just writing tickets or catching bad guys. We try to go the extra mile, and after a loss like this, it's the least I can do."

"Well, in that case...thank you. Again."

As they drove, Vanessa asked about the other driver.

"Was he okay? The man in the semi?"

"Yes. He's fine. Our traffic investigators are finished, but I haven't seen the report, so I can't say yet if he was negligence or...."

"That's okay. Nothing's going to bring my brother back. I just wondered whether or not anyone else was seriously hurt."

"No. Just...."

"I understand," Vanessa said before thanking him for the information.

He looked over at Vanessa then said, "Sorry. I don't mean to be so businesslike."

"No. It's okay. I'm the one who was asked the businesslike question. Thank you answering me and for...being a friend."

They were at the funeral home, and Brian only smiled a weakly in reply as he pulled into the parking lot.

"Before we go in, do you plan to have a funeral or will you have your brother's body...."

"Cremated?"

"Sorry. Yes."

"I should know what he wanted, but this is something we never discussed."

"I have no say in it, but cremation is less expensive. A lot less," Brian offered as gently as he could. "And you can still have a memorial, of course."

It had started raining, and it just so happened that Brian kept an umbrella in the car.

"Give me a second, and I'll come around and help you out, okay?" he asked as he looked over at her again.

"Okay. Thank you," she replied, a look of gratitude and maybe even surprise in her eyes.

Brian held the umbrella for her until they got to the door then opened it and let her go inside first. He closed the umbrella, shook the rain off, secured it with the velcro strap, then followed her.

"Here we are," he said when he saw the door with 'director' on it.

He knocked twice then waited.

"Come in. Please," a pleasant male voice said.

Brian opened that door for her, too, then stepped in behind her. A man of about 55 or so with salt and pepper hair and wearing a dark suit, stood up, smiled, and asked how he might help.

"I uh, my brother, he um, he was...."

"Passed away?" the man said the way he'd done countless times before.

"Yes," Vanessa told him.

"I'm very sorry for your loss," he told her in that same practiced manner.

For the next several minutes the man explained options and then got down to prices. Vanessa knew funerals weren't cheap, but when he quoted the cost for an average-priced casket and service, she was stunned.

The 'mid-range' package of just over $8,000 would cost her nearly all of the money she'd managed to save in the years since moving to Seattle, which, like Portland, was a very high-cost area to live in. Cremation was just $2,500, but she couldn't help but feel like it would be disrespectful to do that to her brother. Then again, she'd never once thought about this, so she wasn't sure what to do.