“So,” I say, trying not to think about Fred. “You drive a hearse?”
“Not usually. I mean, it’s my boyfriend’s car, but he lets me borrow it when it’s free.”
I look over my shoulder, wondering at her definition of free. “Is there always a coffin in the back?”
“I told you,” she says, waving her hand again. “That’s just Fred.”
“She’s talking about the coffin,” explains Lucas.
“Right, the coffin. We call him Fred,” says Philippa. “He’s empty,” she adds, almost as an afterthought.