by Taft Sowder
Loretta sat up in the bed, silently observing the situation. Herman hunched over the body on the floor, breathing heavily and salivating like a mad dog.
“What did you just do?” asked Loretta after a moment. “Herman!”
“Don’t call me that!” Herman snapped. “I killed him. He deserved it and you know it; coming in to my house and on to my wife like that. I killed him, just like I killed,” he paused, a long pause and looked away.
“Killed who? Herman?”
“I’m not Herman! It’s Frank now. Herman is dead now! Call me Frank.”
The look of horror deepened on her face. She couldn’t believe what she heard. Then for a moment, she wondered how he would react if he knew about all the other men. She wondered for that moment if he would be able to believe that his wife had fucked so many other men.
Then he pounced on the bed, pinning her wrists. She struggled a little and then was still. He was just looking at her. That same boyish look he had when he was younger and when they first married. He looked at her hard; he looked through her. He was not the same man she once knew, yet all at once, he was the same man and much more.
His crotch pressed against her wet vagina. The juices of the few minutes she was with the boy were now soaking the fly of his pants. She could feel him stiffening behind the fabric.
“Oh, Herman,” she moaned, as the excitement came spilling back in. His hands momentarily ceased the excitement as his grip tightened. “Honey, you’re hurting me.” She began to squirm again.
“It’s not Herman,” he told her. “I told you, it’s Frank.” With a quick movement he took her wrists in his right hand and slapped her with his left
The iron taste of blood seeped across her tongue. She swallowed hard.
“Call me Frank.” He gripped her tighter. “Call me Frank!”
“Oh, Frank!” She wiggled her hips. “You wanna fuck me baby? You wanna fuck me with that big dick of yours? Put it in me baby.”
With his free hand, he freed his hard-on. He slid his penis into her slowly. He took his time, inching it in, enjoying her sloppy feel.
That was the night they made love not just sex. They hadn’t made love since before Jessica was born. That was also the night that Loretta met Frank, the new Frank, and she slipped a little further from sanity.
* * * *
It was nearing eleven. The cops and ambulance had left some time back, and Bobby was on his way home. Trick or treating was over, his bag was half full and his nerves had him on edge. Something intrigued and yet worried him at the same time. His father never came on the scene. He expected to see the hearse, that old black meat wagon, outside the house. None of the three times he passed the house did his father show up.
He walked up the street. He could see his house, the front lights were off. Something odd caught his eye; a pizza delivery car sat parked outside the house. Surely they were closed for deliveries now. Oh, well, he thought as he crossed the driveway to the sidewalk in front of the porch. Hope they enjoyed the pizza.
He stopped when he heard a car approach. It was the car in which Jessica had left. She climbed from the passenger’s side and waved at him. She took an extra minute at the car and then shut the door and came across the yard.
“What’s up little bro?” she asked.
“Not much.” He looked at her and cocked an eyebrow.
“Get me any candy?”
“No. Get me any good grades?”
“What do you mean?”
“You have a little stain right here.” He pointed to her blouse, under her chin. She looked down, and he flicked her nose. They both laughed and then they went inside.
Inside, a warmer bag lay open on the floor.
Jessica looked at Bobby, and he returned her perplexed look. He shrugged. She looked around and then held up her finger.
“Shh!”
She removed her shoes and crept down the hall. The door to her parent’s room lay open. The sounds of ecstasy became louder and louder. She reached inside for the doorknob and couldn’t help but look.
They were on the floor, her mother on top of her father, her naked back to the doorway. Her moans and shrieks came and went, they were muffled and then loud. She saw her father’s arms reach up toward her mother’s face. That was when her voice was muffled. Was there someone else on the floor with them? She was sure there was another person next to her father. I’ll be damned, she thought.
She grabbed the door and pulled it part way shut.
“Next time you guys wanna have a threesome with the pizza boy, a little warning would be nice.” She shut the door, let out a sigh and then a giggle.
“What were they doing?” Bobby asked.
“Don’t worry, but there might be pizza in the fridge.”
Bobby smiled and then ran toward the kitchen. He returned a moment later.
“There isn’t any. Do they have it in their room?”
“Just enjoy your candy,” she said.
Chapter Eight
Jessica looked outside her window. She had only been up for a few minutes. The sun shined brightly on the street below. The pizza delivery car was gone.
A light frost glistened on the windshield of another car that sat parked by the curb across the street. Another car sat parked in front of the house, its windows were clear and frost free. The sunlight sparkled on the red and blue light bar. The cops! What were they doing here?
In the foyer, Herman stood talking to an officer.
“Yeah, Herman, we had one hell of a night last night. One guy had his house broken into and his dog killed, and the kid who killed his dog died in a long drop from the second floor. A pizza delivery guy went missing after a final delivery just a few houses away, we figure he took all that cash and ran. Now today isn’t sizing up to be much better.” The officer took off his hat and scratched his head. Replacing the cap, he said, “We got report of a body today, it was ...”
When Jessica entered the room, a silence filled the room that tensed her muscles.
“What?” she asked.
“Honey, could you just go in the kitchen and see how breakfast is coming along?” Herman asked.
The tension wound tighter, like a piano string. She felt as if the room might cave in on her if she didn’t turn right then and leave.
After she was gone, the officer continued where he had left off.
“We think it was the body of that missing boy that your son went to school with. Some hikers found his body down by the river a couple of miles from Great Gorge. We think he may have been fooling around by the train tracks and fell off the cliff. That’s what we think, but we can’t rule out foul play at the moment. We’d like you to come take a look. They’re trying to get a lift over there to get his body out right now, so we should have time to get over there before they get him up. Being a coroner and an undertaker, your opinion is important to us. We hope you understand.”
“Certainly, let me get my coat.” Herman turned to retrieve his coat from the rack in the corner.
Jessica entered the empty foyer as she heard the cruiser pull away from the curb. “Breakfast is ready,” she said with a sigh as she saw there was no one in the foyer, and then she went to wake up her brother.
The drive to where the body was found was quiet, but now near the edge of the gorge, there was a bustle of activity. Several police cars were parked nearby, and a fire truck with a boom and a wench slowly lifted the body out of the gorge.
The wait was excruciating. Everyone waited to see what the body looked like.
“Where were you last night?” Captain Moore directed his question at Herman. “We have a body on ice for you down at the hospital. A boy broke into a house, probably looking to steal some jewelry or something. Man did he get a surprise. That dog was almost as big as he was. He got
a lucky hit with that little splinter picker that he had.” Captain Moore spit a brown wad of tobacco juice on the frost covered ground.
“Sorry sir, I was indisposed last night, but I will pick him up later this morning,” Herman said. A chill ran up his spine as a cool tingling breeze blew past. He wondered if this would go off without a hitch. He stepped off to the side and watched as the basket swayed back and forth on the end of the cable. The cool breeze blew again, and he saw the basket smack the rough face of the gorge.
When it was at the top, several police crowded around to see the body. It was a young person, or at least a small person, not an adult. The skin was a hue of blue-gray and black where blood had collected in old bruises. The body was bloated from having been in the water. The face was contorted and badly misshapen; its blackened tongue hung out between the teeth, the lips curled back to bare missing teeth. At least one arm was broken; it hung over the basket, bent where the forearm should not bend. The hands were curled into death grips.
One of the curious officers turned quickly and spewed vomit from his mouth. Spitting and gagging, he braced himself beside the fire truck. This was what Herman saw every day, this grotesque side of life; death. The side of life that no one wanted to talk about, the twisted faces, the agony that the body experienced as it died; this was Herman’s life.
“What do you think?” Captain Moore asked.
Herman stared at the body, examining it. Then he said, “I don’t know. I could try my best to clean him up, but he looks like he’s been down there for a while. I don’t know if we could get a positive I.D. on him or not.”
“Well, you better work a miracle. I’m ready to close this missing persons case. I don’t like to have missing people in my jurisdiction, ya understand?” Captain Moore was quick to point out what he did and did not like in his jurisdiction.
“Sir,” Herman said, “I’ll do my best as quickly as possible. You could send his father to the mortuary in a couple of hours to try to get an I.D. I’ll have him cleaned up by then.”
Herman loaded the body into the back of the hearse. With a nod and a toss of his fingers, he climbed into the driver’s seat. The engine sputtered; the hearse didn’t like the cold weather, and frankly neither did Herman. He watched the officers through the rear-view mirror as he drove off toward the road. Once he was on the road, he relaxed; the tension easing and the pressure behind his eyes fading. He glanced into the mirror again, only this time at the black body bag in the rear end. He couldn’t help but smirk, knowing that this was as good as over, and he had made it out scot-free. He felt good knowing that Bobby would be saved from the punishment that they would have inflicted upon him, knowing that his family was saved the embarrassment of such a scandal. He should at least teach the boy to be careful, he thought. This would only be the expert thing to do.
A brief struggle began in his mind. A part of him, the old part, wanted this to be the end of it and was even ashamed that any circumstances had led to the deaths of not only this boy, but of his brother and a complete stranger. This part of him began to scream, and the tension started returning. He put his fingers to the bridge of his nose and massaged, attempting to relieve the pain. He closed his eyes, only for a moment. When he opened them, he had to jerk the wheel and bring the hearse back onto his side of the road. A near collision with a big rig was enough to snap him back to reality. The horn blared as the truck sped by, mere inches from the driver’s side of the hearse.
The reserved and timid part of him was silent now. Another side of him waged war against this side. The timid side now reeled from the near collision and the possibility of his death, and a more aggressive side screamed. Screaming to turn around and chase down the trucker and rips his heart from his chest. Screaming at the hesitant side and pounding on the walls of his inner being. This would be his dominate side now, there was no denying it; even if he wanted to.
He was back at the mortuary before noon. Herman had this body under control, but he knew he had a problem: the bodies in his basement. The freezer would only hold so much before he had to move on to something else, and though Frank had good taste, he knew that he had taken most of the good meat from the body when he made the stew. Thus, he knew there was only one real solution to his dilemma. He would have to bring the bodies to the crematory in the cover of night. He could easily burn the remains and crush the bone and simply mix the bone fragments with the remains of the other deceased.
First, focus, he told himself, the boy comes first and then take care of your own previous carelessness.
He parked in the rear lot and backed the hearse to the double doors. He unloaded the body quickly and quietly as he would any other corpse. He moved the body to an examination table, and just as he was about to begin his would be examination autopsy, he was greeted by a rapping on the rear doors. Then the buzzer sounded.
Anger rushed over him, and he had to restrain himself from throwing his tools across the room. He knew his sanity slipped further with every passing moment, and he knew that he had to get some control.
On the other side of the door a man waited. He was stocky built, but short, his hair a salt and pepper gray. He thumbed the buzzer button. He was also an impatient man. His name was Tyler Sparks.
Herman opened the door; he gave the short man a cock-eyed look and then saw his laminated badge on his chest. His expression immediately changed, and he greeted the man with an open hand. Tyler hesitated and then gripped his hand.
“Good morning, sir. I’m Tyler Sparks. I’m the state appointed inspector.” He flipped his badge. “I’m also a certified undertaker and in charge of the autopsy from here on in.”
Herman cleared his throat and flung an open hand toward the exam table. “Come on in.”
* * * *
Jessica walked into the dining room. Her mother sitting at the far end of the table, looked up and smiled; a pile of letters and junk mail lay scattered in front of her. This was the mail from Friday and Saturday. She had failed to check the box.
The smile on her mother’s face faded into a scowl as she looked at one letter. She flipped the letter over and ripped the back of the envelope open. She covered her mouth with her hand and tears filled her eyes.
“Mom? Mom? What’s wrong?”
“N ... Nothing, darling, just go in the other room, please?” Jessica left the room and Loretta wept quietly. A manicured hand wiped the tears from her cheeks. She laid the letter on the table and got herself a drink.
The letter inside was a typed memorandum from the state prison. The bland and insensitive language of the letter told her that her brother Roy Lawrence had recently been released from prison. That wasn’t a good thing.
Below the ripped envelope was another envelope. Roy’s chicken-scratch handwriting was on the cover. He spelled her name wrong. He always spelled her name wrong. It was a bad sign, a bad omen. She knew what he was writing for; she knew he would need a place to stay.
* * * *
Herman stepped outside, the cool autumn air felt good against his sweat beaded skin. He wiped the sweat from his brow. His nerves were on end. When he finally felt that he couldn’t make it any longer with that guy in his workspace, Tyler Sparks had decided to confirm that the death had been accidental. He assumed that the boy had been playing near the train tracks and fell off the cliff. If he had survived the fall, he had drowned in the lazy river below. The river had carried his body to where it had been deposited and then found by the hikers.
That was what Tyler had dictated to him as he examined the body and filled out his report. The man left only moments earlier to go file his report. Herman didn’t smoke, but he would have lit one up right now if he had one. Now the fact had been reiterated. Caution was now the priority.
He locked the door and walked to the hearse. It was cold out, the chill that had once felt good now ran up his spine, goose pimples blistering up on
his arms. He wished he had brought his coat, but how could he keep things straight? His mind had been on edge, teetering. If the razor leaned one way or the other, he would lose it again.
As he climbed into the driver’s seat, he caught something out of the corner of his eye. It was a man, or more a shape of a man standing near a tree on a vacant lot. The man stepped behind the tree as he turned to get a better look. There was a man there a moment ago, right?
He rolled into the driveway slowly, something just didn’t feel right. Was it the man waiting by the tree? Is that what made him so uneasy? Had there even been a man? Something just didn’t feel right.
When he stepped through the door, that feeling was confirmed by the look on Loretta’s face. She looked like a small child who had just lost their imaginary friend to a terrible fire. She was still sitting at the dining room table; he could see her clearly through the large open archway. Herman walked to her and put a hand on her arm.
“What’s wrong, honey?”
She looked up at him and swallowed hard. He could hear her crackling voice trying to form words. Then, she handed him the letter, her hand quivering as he took it. What could have her so frightened or nervous?
“What’s this?” asked Herman as he flipped the letter over. Without even glancing at the front of the envelope, he took the paper from the pouch. Unfolding it, he saw what it was; he saw it was a letter from Roy, Loretta’s brother. “You mean that bastard is coming here? He’s a lowlife, he can’t stay here!”
With that said, the doorbell rang. Loretta dropped her head. She hoped it was someone else, but she knew, deep down, who it was.
Herman’s face became stern, a frozen statue. He walked to the door and sighing, opened it.
Roy watched as the door swung open. He saw Herman’s face. He never really liked that asshole. He knew his sister could do better than that. His sister was hot, and hell, she could have had Herman’s brother. What was his name? Fred? Doug? Either way, she could have had him. He had money, a lot of money. Instead, she married this Lurch looking motherfucker.