Murders on the Edge

by Andie Alexander

  I ended the call and watched the sheriff. I wanted to know more, but knew the only way to find out was to get a job in the mortuary.

  I changed into a dark blue dress with flat conservative shoes, and pulled my hair up into a French braid. Donning a little bit of makeup, I figured a mortician would want things very plain and simple. That was my goal. To get a job with dead people. I must’ve been nuts.

  I walked out into the hallway and down the stairs. Only Maybelle was there, sitting at the front desk while reading the paper. It said the Señora Times on the front. I needed to get one of those newspapers.

  Once I stepped outside, I saw the mortuary across the street and two doors to the left. There was nothing but a grassy area past the mortuary, with headstones lining the freshly mowed property.

  As I crossed the street, I looked all around, but the sheriff was gone. In fact, no one was around. I headed over to where he’d been digging, but it didn’t look odd to me. However, I did see a sprinkler for watering the lawn. So that’s how they kept the grass so green. I glanced around me, but saw no one, so I headed back to the mortuary.

  I sauntered down the sidewalk until I got to the dark wooden door with the words, ‘Moody Mortuary’ over the top. If I remembered correctly, that was the owner’s name. Maybelle and the grocery guy both told me that. At least it didn’t mean that the owner was a moody guy. However, his customers would never know because they’d be dead.

  I lowered my gaze to the door’s handle and saw ‘help wanted’ posted in big red letters on a white card on the door. I was definitely in the right place.

  As soon as I pushed open the heavy door, I could almost smell death…or something…coming from inside. The place was so dark; I was tempted to buy a flashlight just to see where I was going. I entered the lobby, assessing the situation. No one was around, so I rang the small bell on the counter.

  An old man dressed in a black suit, looking like he had one foot in the grave, hobbled toward me. He was so sullen; I could see all his bones sticking out of his face. I didn’t think the man had been outside for at least twenty years, he was that pale. His hair was mostly black. But from the gray roots, I could tell it was dyed but not done well.

  His sunken dark eyes met mine, giving me a chill up my spine.

  “Can I help you?” I was expecting a deep voice, but instead, was met with a girly voice that even went up at the end. I suppressed my laughter and tried my best at professionalism.

  “I’m here about the help wanted sign on the front door.”

  “Yes,” he said in almost a whistle. “We need someone to help us out. If you can start right now, you’re hired.”

  Giggling came from upstairs, followed by a constant rhythmic pounding. I looked at the white ceiling, trying to figure out what was going on. My eyes drifted down to the dark wooden railing beside steps with dark walls and dark, blood red carpeting on the stairs.

  “Are there dead people trying to get out up there?” I asked, returning my gaze upward.

  Mr. Highvoice looked at the stairs in a nonchalant manner. “No, that’s some people who haven’t recovered from the partying last night. They’ll be done fornicating in about an hour.”

  My eyes must’ve grown three sizes. “Did you say fornicating? As in having sex?”

  “Yes.” He seemed so matter of fact, moving behind the counter. “We need someone to answer the phone, dig the graves, and tag the bodies. Can you do that?”

  “Dig the graves?” I pointed toward the stairs. “There are people upstairs having sex, and you think nothing of it? Are there apartments up there?”

  “Oh, no,” he said in almost a cartoon-like voice. “That’s the town brothel. We think nothing of it. The mayor’s up there right now, with Shirley, the richest woman in town.”

  I wanted to call Jim right away, just so he could hear what I was hearing. I could’ve sworn it was the sound of mooing or something, coming from the second floor. My eyes couldn’t stay off the stairs, hoping I could see what was going on.

  “And you’ll have to help dig the graves,” the dead man with the high voice said. “We don’t have enough help, and until we do, we need everyone to pitch in.”

  “I see.” I looked down at my hand. “I have a spider bite, but I can try.”

  “Don’t worry. That’s the easy part, because we only mark the top. Then I go out with a backhoe and do the rest later. Now tagging the bodies can be rough if they come back to life.”

  An involuntary shiver had me rethinking this job. But I needed to investigate, and where was the best place go but the hub of the town’s activity—the mortuary and the town brothel.

  Chapter 8

  “How much does it pay?” I asked Dead-Guy.

  Dark, sunken eyes met my face. “Five thousand a week. Business is booming.” He opened his mouth to a scary smile and bad teeth…I mean really bad teeth. I wanted to hurl, but pasted a smile on my face.

  Five thousand a week? He must’ve been charging tons of money per funeral to pay the hired help that much.

  I reached out and shook his hand. “It’s a deal. What’s your name?”

  “Mr. Moody. And yours?”

  “Jane Black. I’m kind of running away from a bad relationship in Tucson, so this is perfect. Johnny would never think of hunting for me here.”

  “True.”

  Thumping, loud moaning, and definite mooing came from upstairs, making both of us stare. “He’s almost done,” Mr. Moody said.

  What a concept.

  After I went behind the counter, Mr. Moody had me fill out forms and showed me the ropes. I was tagging toes, taking jewelry, and everything I could imagine off dead bodies. I desperately wanted a shower and needed nose plugs.

  But I had to stay, because Mr. Moody was describing the town to me. “And Mr. Nilly—”

  “Did you say Mr. Nilly?” I asked. “What kind of name is that?” One that went with Willy, no doubt.

  “He’s the mayor. Willy Nilly. His wife is Billie, and she comes up here for male ‘companionship’ as well. They’re usually together for a foursome or something. It’s like a soap opera sometimes.”

  I wanted a tape recorder. No one in their right mind would believe this.

  “Did they have any kids?” I asked.

  “Yep. Jilly and Milly are teenaged twins, but we’re not sure who the dad is, and then there’s Tilvin, who’s in his early twenties. We call him Tilly. He’s in with a bad crowd, from out of town. Some say they’re locals, and others say they came over from near Tucson.” He paused for a moment. “Hey…you’re from Tucson, right?”

  “A little outside Tucson.” Like New York City. Considering I’d only seen downtown Tucson from the road, I had to lie. “Just for a few years, though. Who are the people from Tucson? Maybe I know them?”

  “I doubt a nice girl like you knows them.”

  I pulled some jewelry from the fourth body, getting the woman ready for burial. She had this look on her face like she’d been scared to death.

  “They’re in the importing business,” he said. “Roger’s Imports, down near Grande Mesas.”

  I needed a map and a scorecard. “Where’s that?”

  “Everyone knows Grande Mesas, southwest of here. That’s where this biohazard filled the city and they had to bulldoze the whole place. It was all over the news. Didn’t you see that?”

  “I guess I missed it. I’ve been dealing with a deadbeat boyfriend who took away my television and news.”

  And that deadbeat boyfriend would be…drum roll please…Jim and the DHS. I’d spent the past six months holed up in a room, under guard, at the DHS building, for fear of being killed by the Russians. But that was another story. At least I got my agent training then, but thought back to what had happened over the past six months.

  When I’d been in the hospital after the kidnapping in New York, Jim had left me alone to get the minister so we could get married. I already had the white hospital gown. But right after he left, two suicide terro
rists had run into my room and tried to kill me with bombs strapped to their stomachs. Jim had returned right when they were la-la-la-ing at me, so I assumed they were Arabic. Jim was armed and shot them dead, scaring the poor minister. The guy hid in the corner.

  Jim pulled me from the bed and carried me over his shoulder, running through the hallways while all the other patients stared. The minister whined about being alone, so he ran behind us. I could see him when I lifted my head from Jim’s back. The poor guy crossed himself, even though he wasn’t Catholic. Since there seemed to be more terrorists in the hospital, Jim shot them as he ran. He took the stairs down to the first floor, ran to a taxi, threw me inside, and told the driver to take me to a DHS safe house. I was then under protective custody for six months, and even Jim couldn’t see me for more than a few minutes unless he had a good reason. Wanting to marry me wasn’t a good enough reason for him to stay at my side, even though he tried more than once. Jim. What a crazy man. That was my husband.

  I popped back to the present, standing beside my new employer, well, at least my employer for this case.

  “You need to get out more.” Mr. Moody moved to another dead woman, looking to be about twenty years of age. He took out a big needle, a giant pan, and stuck the needle in her arm, draining all the blood. I moved on to another body. This wasn’t for me.

  “I’m done,” a man yelled from the front room.

  “That’s fine, Willy. Come back any time.”

  “I’ll be back in a few hours when I get my energy back.”

  I looked at Mr. Moody. “He tells you when he’s done?”

  “Yep. He rented out the whole upstairs and now I can open it back up for business. He doesn’t want anyone to know he was up there with Shirley.”

  I bit my lips. I needed Jim. Anyone else would think I was certifiably insane if I told them what I’d been hearing.

  We finished tagging the bodies, and Mr. Moody helped me dress them in clothing fitting for their burial. It wasn’t bad work if someone liked people and cared. It was just a shame I was a closet curmudgeon.

  “Got a grave to dig now,” Mr. Moody said. “Are you up to it?”

  “Sure.” Considering I was in heels and a dress, it would be an interesting day. We took shovels outside to dig a grave, in the center of the cemetery.

  “We need one near this one here,” he said, pointing. “This lady’s husband died and they wanted to be buried beside each other. We just mark off a bit of the area and I’ll bring a backhoe to do the rest.”

  “That sounds good.”

  Just as we started to dig, the sprinklers for the lawn began.

  “I should’ve known they’d be on today,” Mr. Moody said. “Keep digging and we’ll get this done fast.”

  “Right.” I worked right near a sprinkler and before long, not only was the bandage wet on my hand, but my legs, dress and shoes were wet. In the heat, though, it felt good, and dried quickly. Before we’d been working an hour, the area was dug up in a perfect rectangle.

  “Good enough,” Mr. Moody said. I looked over at him, and he didn’t look like he’d been in the water at all. But I looked down the streets, and in the heat, saw many people playing in the sprinklers, probably to cool off. They were laughing and seemed to be having a great time—men, women, and children alike. Why all the sprinklers would go on at the same time was beyond me. What a weird town.

  The sprinklers turned off, and we returned to the mortuary. I wasn’t that wet, and by the time I got inside the back door, just my bandage seemed to be in bad shape.

  The bell rang at the front desk and I walked out to see who it was. Chris was standing at the desk, dressed in a suit, but I acted like I didn’t know him. “Yes?”

  “I’m here to see Mr. Moody. I understand he’s looking for help?”

  “One moment.” I walked into the back room. “Someone’s looking for a job out front.”

  “Another one? We haven’t had anyone stop in for so long, and now, two of you.”

  Chris could’ve waited a day, but no. He was going to mess everything up. It was even Saturday, so it really looked odd for both of us to ask for a job on a weekend from the guy.

  “Can you fix one of the lady’s hair?” Mr. Moody said to me.

  “Sure.” As soon as he returned to the front room, I looked down at the blue-haired older woman lying in front of me and stared at all the bodies lined up for burial. It seemed like more people than they’d already buried, which made no sense for a town this size.

  I grabbed a brush from the side and began brushing her hair. I made her have a part on the side and worked on the back. As soon as I started brushing the top, her hand reached up and grabbed my arm, making me jump. Her eyes opened and she stared right at me, with a very hollow soulless look.

  “I’m not dead yet,” she said. “And I don’t wear a side part.”

  I wasn’t breathing, I was sure. I couldn’t scream and couldn’t move. Her hand let go of my arm, fell to her side, and she closed her eyes.

  Yikes. I’d just awakened the dead.

  Chapter 9

  I backed away, bumped into a table, and ran to the front room. “One of your dead bodies isn’t dead yet.”

  Mr. Moody laughed in this weird ha-ha type of tone. It was freaky in his high voice. “That’s Mrs. Newton. She’s playing a trick on you.”

  I turned and saw her walking toward me, laughing hysterically.

  My hand flew to the base of my neck out of fear. “That’s not funny. I think I just had a coronary.”

  “It’s hilarious. We do that to all the new employees.” She stuck out her hand. “I’m Kerenza Newton and I help do the hair and makeup for the bodies.”

  I shook her hand but made a mental note not to trust her.

  “Don’t look so scared,” she said. “It’s fine.”

  I glanced over toward Chris, whose raised eyebrows made me nod. Everyone in this town was nuts. Certifiable. I couldn’t wait to get out of New Mexico.

  Mr. Moody addressed Chris with a chuckle. “We need grave diggers and embalmers right now.”

  “I don’t know how to do that. Do you train?”

  Mr. Moody turned toward Mrs. Newton. “Do we train?”

  “Yep. Choo-choo.” She cackled as she turned toward the back. “Do we train…”

  Mr. Moody faced Chris, laughing again in that scary laugh. “Yes, we’ll train you. It’s easy work, and Jane, here, is doing the same type of work and has only been here a few hours.” He looked up at the clock. “It’s quitting time right now, but come back at seven-thirty on Monday morning and we’ll all learn how to do that work.”

  “Yes, sir.” Chris shook his hand. “Thank you. I really need the job.”

  Mr. Moody turned toward me. “Can you work tonight?”

  “I think so, why?”

  “We’re short a receptionist for the…uh…business upstairs tonight.” He leaned closer. “She’s been promoted to ‘entertainer’.”

  Entertainer must mean hooker. “I see. How long do I need to be here?”

  “Just until the line winds down.” He checked the clock. “Be back in an hour, and you can sit here. You just call upstairs when someone walks in and they’ll do the rest.”

  “I see. I’m a scheduler.”

  “Yep.” He went into the backroom, closing the curtain behind him.

  I stuck out my hand and shook Chris’ hand. “I’m Jane. Jane Black.”

  “Chris Jacobs.” He grinned and winked. “Do you have a dinner date?”

  “Not yet.”

  “How about joining my friend and me at his house? He’s the new doctor in town.”

  “I know him already. He helped me get here. I’d love to.”

  “Good, because he’s waiting in my car.”

  We walked out of the building and toward the nondescript black governmental car, parked in the driveway. Jim was in the back seat, Chris got into the driver’s seat, and I sat in the front passenger’s seat. Chris turned on the car and
backed out. As he drove down the street, Jim ran a wand over me. I waited to say anything until he declared me clean.

  “You’re fine,” he finally said.

  “Where are we going?” I asked. “I have to be back in an hour to schedule hooker dates.”

  Chris slammed on the brakes and stared at me. “Hooker dates?”

  “Yep.” I nodded. “Oh man, an hour’s not going to be long enough to tell you guys everything, but this town is majorly messed up.”

  “Time to go to my place for lunch instead of a restaurant,” Jim said. “I don’t want any of this out.”

  “Good,” I said. “You won’t believe what I’ve seen and heard, and you’ll probably want to put the whole town in a straight jacket.”

  As we drove out of town, we passed a few homes while I brought them up to speed. I saw the names Pearl and Norman on one of the mailboxes. “Look. It’s Pearl’s house,” I said.

  “I’ll handle that one,” Jim said. “I think you have your own journey.”

  “That’s an understatement. What am I to do?”

  “Do your job,” Chris said. “I’ll be there with you on Monday. I think the good doctor back there has taken a fancy to you, so you can date him in town. That way, we can keep an eye on you all the time.”

  “How weird is this place, anyway? I mean, the mayor rents out the whole floor of a brothel and moos like a cow—”

  “Moos? Did you say moos?” Jim asked, sitting up closer to where I was seated.

  “Yeah. Moo, as in a cow. It’s odder than I’d ever imagined.”

  “I think we need to date tonight,” Jim said. “I can stop by your work to check out your hand and just hang around.”

  “If you want. I don’t know how long I’ll be there, though.”

  “As long as it takes,” Jim said. “And I’ll protect you.”

  Chris pulled in beside a duplex, with the doctor’s office sign on one side and a modest house on the other side. He parked in the back, beside Jim’s sports car and another nondescript, black governmental car.

  “Nice,” I said. “Are we relocating and living here full-time after the mission?”

  “Nope,” Jim said. “The government owns this place. We’ll fix up the place in Nogales and go back there. This place has spiders and I know how much you hate spiders.”