Normally this saying refers to the finality of death, so I'm afraid this locksmith is advertising that they also do necromancy.

A dark shadowy figure scurries through the town alleys. The cloaked figure knocked on the wooden door.

A pair of eyes peered through a hole. "Who is it?"

"I'm looking for the locksmith... for a... special job."

"What kind of job?"

"Someone dear to me... died last night."

"Is the body still fresh?"

"She's kept in ice."

"Good. There is still time."

The door opened, and the cloaked man entered. The door shut behind him on its own.

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