by Brett McKay
“Call me Lester.”
“Call me Ret.”
“Great! We’re goin’ to make a great team, fellas!”
I didn’t see Lester the rest of the day, and I was glad. Mr. Beaumont showed me where the cleaning supplies were in the basement then gave me a brief rundown of my tasks, and I went at it.
I ran a vacuum across all the carpeted floors, including the viewing room, where a coffin sat with a dead body inside. Beaumont was preparing for a service later that day.
I’d only seen one dead body—my great-grandmother. She’d looked peaceful, but different than she had when she was alive. It hadn’t been as creepy as I’d thought, but I tried not to look at the body in the casket.
As I vacuumed the room, curiosity finally got the best of me, and I peeked over the edge of the coffin twice. The man was lying in a suit, hands crossed over his chest and eyes closed. His skin was painted with more makeup and rouge than any living man would wear.
I continued to peek over my shoulder to be sure the corpse didn’t exit his coffin and stumble after me. He didn’t. I survived.
I vaccumed and dusted each room, including the chapel and foyers, and cleaned the men’s and women’s restrooms. It took me two and a half hours, and Mr. Beaumont was better than his word and gave me seven dollars. I was elated.
He asked me to come back the next day to polish the furniture and some more detailed work, then he handed me a key to the facility. I couldn’t believe it. He trusted me with a key!
“I trust you more than I’d trust anybody.” He smiled, his hand on my shoulder.
I thanked him a hundred times, said goodbye, and left. I bought a cheeseburger and fries from the burger joint across the street then rode home with a full belly, satisfied about putting in a good day’s worth of work. I slumped on our couch and watched useless TV the rest of the day. Suddenly, I realized why my parents liked doing the same when they got home. One has to decompress.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Missing
I was eager to get back to work the next day. I felt important. Having a job was a fulfillment I hadn’t realized I’d needed. The wind blew in my face as I pumped the pedals on my bike. Riding along Redwood Road, I looked at the rumbling sky. Boiling dark clouds crept across the sky and hid the sun. The air was dense with humidity. The storm was about to burst.
I parked my bike and walked in through the open back door. I stopped halfway down the back hall when I heard voices in the foyer. It was Lester, talking to a lady, who sounded older.
I moved closer and saw Mrs. Beaumont, looking frantic as her hands animated her tone. She was short, and the sweater and long skirt she was wearing seemed to swallow her up.
“He comes in early a lot. Are you sure you haven’t seen him?” she asked.
“No, I haven’t seen him at all today.” Lester’s voice carried no sympathy for her situation. In fact, he sounded bothered.
“Not even in the basement? He’s probably down there.”
“Nope. The doors were locked when I got here, and no lights were on. I opened the place and checked everywhere. No one’s here.”
Her hands went to her mouth. They were shaking, and her eyes were teary. “I can’t imagine where he’d be. He didn’t come home at all last night. When did he leave here?”
“I-I don’t know. I left before he did. ’Bout five.”
“He didn’t mention anything to you before you left? An errand to run or something?” She was confused and nervous, and her eyes darted back and forth as if her mind were sifting through possible scenarios.
“Nope.”
I felt it in my stomach. A darkness like a warning bubbled up from the depths of my gut, making my senses tingle. The situation didn’t set right.
“He never does this, you see. He always comes home on time. I just don’t understand.”
I backed up before either of them saw me there. I headed to the basement to get the cleaning supplies and to get a look for myself. Maybe he was farther in the back, where the furnace and pipes were. Lester didn’t have a shred of care to look for Mr. Beaumont, so I doubted he’d checked the furnace room.
The supply closet was on the left at the bottom of the stairs, but I walked right by it and headed for the furnace room. I passed the large entrance to the back parking lot, where double doors opened to a ramp leading to the basement. That was where they brought the bodies in. It was dark in the short hall. No one was there.
“Mr. Beaumont?” I called out with a soft voice.
I hadn’t turned on any lights, so the rest of the hall was dark. The door up ahead was open. That was the room I was afraid of. Mr. Beaumont had been in there just before meeting me with an ice-cold handshake—I was sure of it. The cold room where they prepared the bodies was filled with hard tile, glimmering silver tools, medical devices, large sinks, and a freezer for the corpses. Like everything else in the basement, the room was dark, but some light from the upstairs leaked down the hall and cracked the blackness.
I edged around the door and peered in. Small bits of light reflected off silver cabinets, revealing a body lying on a thin metal table. The body was clothed. I could see only a pair of men’s slacks and dress shoes. The legs crossed each other in an awkward, uncomfortable manner. The man looked tall, but I couldn’t see his face or hands. Liquid dripped from the table and splattered into a dark pool beneath the foot of the table. The body was leaking blood!
Slam! The door shut fast, nearly clipping my fingers off, and the sound startled me into a nervous disaster. His hand against the door, Lester looked down at me in disdain. I hadn’t heard him come down the stairs.
“What’re you doing here?” he asked. When I stumbled over an attempt to answer, he persisted, “I asked you, what are you doing?”
“Just-just came to work. Mr. Beaumont wanted me to—”
“Mr. Beaumont’s not here. You’re not needed today. I got a service to prepare for, so you need to leave.”
Who was I to argue or ask questions? Terrified, I just nodded and walked away, still shaking. When my heart settled down, I realized how suspicious Lester had been to run down the stairs and shut the door on me. What did he have to hide? Who was on the table? Was it Mr. Beaumont? That’s absurd... isn’t it?
I stumbled outside, and a few drops of rain hit my face. My mind swam. I was in shock.
Mrs. Beaumont’s car was still in the back parking lot. The engine wasn’t running, but she sat in the driver’s seat, sobbing. She was in shock too, confused and uncertain where to turn. Butterflies swirled in my stomach. What if the body downstairs was Mr. Beaumont? What if he’s hurt and needs help? What should I do?
I felt the need to approach Mrs. Beaumont, but I was frozen. Then she turned and locked eyes with me. They were filled with such despair, I knew I had to.
She rolled her window down as I walked toward her.
“Ret McCoy?”
“Yes.” I nodded.
A small smile cracked her frown. “Gerald told me he hired you. Did you come to work?”
“Yes.” I nodded again. “I guess they don’t need me today.”
“Oh.” Her eyes filled with immense concern and fear. “Have you seen my husband?”
“No, I haven’t, ma’am. Not since yesterday.”
Her eyes dropped to the ground. “This is not like him. It just isn’t.”
“Have you told Sheriff Packard?” I asked.
“No.” A small amount of hope returned to her demeanor. “Do you think I should? I probably should, shouldn’t I?”
“Yes. He can help. Ask him to check here first. He can look in the basement. Make sure he’s not somewhere we haven’t checked.”
I wanted Packard there right away. I wanted him to check on the body in the basement.
“Yes, you’re right. I’m sure Mr. Kilborn hasn’t looked everywhere. You know Gerald. He’s always so quiet, tinkering with things. He gets on a project and forgets the time.”
“I’m sure of it, Mrs. B
eaumont. Maybe he’s in the furnace room or something.”
“Yes, the furnace room...” More hope bloomed in her eyes, and I hoped it wasn’t a setup for more pain. If it was Mr. Beaumont on that table in the basement, he was probably already dead.
“Do you want me to go with you?” I offered.
“No, thank you, sweetie. You’ve been a big help.” She smiled and started her car.
“Okay. Goodbye then.” I walked to my bike and watched her drive out of the parking lot.
The sheriff’s office was a little farther down the road. I rode slowly and stopped at its entrance. Through the window, I saw Mrs. Beaumont talking to Sheriff Packard, hands motioning again. Packard stood, put his coat on, and marched to the door.
Yes! I thought, certain he was going to inspect the mortuary.
I didn’t want to leave the area, so I drove down a side street and back up, hoping I wouldn’t seem nosey. That was where I saw the black hearse. Lester was driving down Redwood Road in the hearse at a good rate of speed.
“In a hurry?” I said under my breath.
About fifty feet down the street, I hid behind a large cottonwood tree that shadowed Redwood Road. I peered around the trunk and watched the sheriff’s car leave the parking lot, followed by Mrs. Beaumont, and head to the mortuary. I followed but hung back, keeping a slow pace.
When I got to the mortuary, Packard was pulling on the front doors, which were locked. Mrs. Beaumont stood behind him, shaking her head in confusion.
I parked my bike and approached them. “Do you need to get in? I have a key.”
Relief blossomed on both of their faces. I quickly opened the doors, feeling like a hero, and Packard trotted in. I wanted to tell him to check the basement first, but I didn’t have to.
“Sheriff, can you check the basement first?” Mrs. Beaumont said, giving me a thankful smile. “I really think he’s down there. In the furnace room, maybe.”
Packard nodded and descended the back stairs.
Mrs. Beaumont reached down and grasped my hand for strength. I wanted to cry for her. Together, we walked down the stairs. My heart leapt into my throat. The body! He’ll find the body! What if it is Mr. Beaumont?
When Mrs. Beaumont and I got to the bottom of the stairs, Packward exited the room where the body had been. I tensed, awaiting his word.
He looked at us. “Nobody in there. Furnace room, did you say?”
Mrs. Beaumont nodded.
What? Is the body not in there anymore? I couldn’t believe it. I let go of Mr. Beaumont’s hand and jogged to the doorway of the cold room. I peered inside. The light was on.
It was empty. No body on the table, floor, or anywhere I could see, and the puddle of blood was gone too... as if it had never been there. I turned to the freezer door, which was shut.
Packard came around the corner. “No one back there, either,” he said.
“How about in there?” I motioned to the freezer door. I wasn’t going to open it. I would let him.
Absent of the same fear I had, he opened the door and stepped in. A moment later, he exited with the same shake of the head. “Nothing in there.”
“Lester said he was preparing for a service today,” I said.
“Well, if he is, there’s not a body anywhere that I can see.”
Lester. He’d driven past me in the hearse like a bat out of hell. Did he take the body with him and clean up the blood?
“I saw Lester leave,” I said. “He drove the hearse down Redwood.”
“North or south?”
“North, going really fast,” I said.
“Okay,we’ll take it from here.” He turned back to Mrs. Beaumont. “You’ll want to go back to my office. Have Deputy James fill out a report for you. Meanwhile, I’ll keep looking, and I’ll check up on Lester. I won’t leave any stone unturned. I promise.” He reassured us with a confident nod. I believed him. I knew he was good to his word.
With nothing left for us to do, Mrs. Beaumont and I left. I rode my bike home. So many thoughts bolted in and out of my head, I was surprised I’d paid enough attention to make it home in one piece.
I was scared for both Mr. and Mrs. Beaumont. He was such a good man, and I didn’t want to see any harm come to him. But my gut told me something already had. Beaumont was in peril of the worst kind. I wandered around the rest of the day, trying to keep myself occupied with TV or a book, but I couldn’t keep myself still, especially my mind.
Just before bed, tears came to my eyes, and my jaw trembled. An overwhelming sadness shrouded me, and I knelt next to my bed and prayed for the safety of Mr. Beaumont with all of my heart.
CHAPTER NINE
Strange Happenings
The storm came in that night like the rage of God for what had happened to Mr. Beaumont. Howling winds assaulted Riverton while rain hit the panes of my bedroom window, sounding like pellets against the glass. Deep bellows of thunder filled the air, and flashes of lightning stabbed the earth. It was the start of something chilling and dark. I didn’t fear the old ghost lady would come sneak a peek at me through my cracked door. Instead, it would be Lester Kilborn... or something worse.
I didn’t get much sleep, but when I woke up, the last drizzle of rain had stopped, and the clouds were moving on. The sun peeked through the last remaining clouds and sent its rays of heat out to warm the earth, and the moisture rose from the ground like spirits from their graves, only to evaporate into the sky.
Around seven thirty in the morning, I dragged my bones to the kitchen. I rarely woke up that early during the summer, and normally, I woke up starving. But I didn’t feel like eating anything that morning. Instead, I washed the cobwebs and dust from my throat with a glass of orange juice.
Something told me to step outside—into the backyard, to be precise. And there would be only one reason to go out there. I grabbed my brother’s binoculars and stepped onto our steaming porch.
The hearse was there, as I’d expected, and two men were standing next to it, both wearing dark clothes. One was taller than the other, and the shorter man was wider. The second man was definitely Lester.
The tall man was older and stood with an erect stature, his shoulders straight, chest out, and chin up. His walk was precise as if a decision preceded every step, and he gave Lester a condescending look.
All of those mannerisms were in direct contradiction to Mr. Beaumont. He was tall, but because of his age and health, he hunched over slightly. He never stood his full height, and his walk had a hobble to it, as if the bones in his legs were constantly in immense pain.
The man couldn’t have been Gerald Beaumont... but it was. I couldn’t make out distinct details with the binoculars, but I could discern enough to identify my employer, and friend, Mr. Beaumont.
I wanted to scream with excitement and relief. He was alive after all! But I couldn’t. Something was wrong with Mr. Beaumont. He was not himself.
Beaumont and Lester entered the hearse and drove away.
I questioned whether I should go into work or not, but quickly realized I must. My last conversation with Mr. Beaumont was a promise to come in the next day to work. Plus, I needed more physical reassurance that he was indeed alive. I threw some clothes on, jumped on my bike, and rode to work.
When I stepped in through the back door and marched up the hall, I heard Beaumont speaking to Lester. The tone of his voice was lower than usual and monotone. The underlying resonance in his voice chilled my bones.
“Mr. Beaumont!” I exclaimed and approached with a smile.
Lester stood next to him, scowling. Moving only his head, as if it were somehow detached from his body, he turned to look down at me. Not even the skin around his face moved to form a smile. He was a statue, cold and refined.
“It’s so good to see you! You’re okay?”
Saying nothing, he looked right through me.
“We were worried about you.”
He scowled. “We?”
“Yeah, myself, Mrs. Beaumont, Sheriff P
ackard... even Lester, I think.”
“What are you doing here, boy? Did someone die?”
“Die?” I was taken aback.
“Yes. Die. This is a mortuary, and most people come here because someone has died. I assume you’re here on business matters.”
“No. No one has died. I don’t think.”
“Then scoot along. We’re very busy here and don’t have time for silly games.”
I was still trying to wrap my brain around what he’d said to me. Does he even remember who I am? Both of them stared at me, unmoving. My mouth was open, and one eyebrow was raised in question. “What about my job?”
“What job?”
“You’re not needed anymore,” Lester jumped in. He turned to Beaumont. “Mr. Beaumont, you gave him a job. To clean things for an hour or two.”
“I did?” He turned back to me. “Are they clean?”
“Well... yes, but you needed other things...”
“What other things?”
“You said you had a lot of services this week and needed some deep cleaning.”
He stared at me again in silence, and I stared back.
The eyes were the windows to the soul, or so people always said. When I looked into Mr. Beaumont’s eyes, though, there was no soul. I saw a cold, hollowed-out shell. I was looking into the eyes of a stranger, not Mr. Beaumont. He had changed.
“Fine. You can finish your deep cleaning. When you’re done, no more.”
“Okay.” I nodded.
I couldn’t believe I was brave enough to fight for my job. The funeral home was suddenly a place I wanted to be far away from, but I had to stay. I had a responsibility to both Mr. and Mrs. Beaumont to stay, and maybe I could find out what really happened.
When I was nearly finished with my chores, I witnessed the saddest thing in my life, and it frightened me. Mrs. Beaumont entered through the front doors. By the look on her face, she still believed her husband was gone. She didn’t know he’d been found.
Mr. Beaumont was in his office at the time, so she didn’t see him. Lester stepped out and greeted her.
“Mr. Kilborn”—her voice cracked with despair—“please tell me you’ve seen my husband. Forgive me for bothering you, but I just don’t know where else to go. My daughter lives out of state, and she’ll arrive later today, but until then, I just... I just...”