Hauling Ash

by Tonia Brown

  “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Walter said. “I know I told you not to worry, then I saw …” Walter paused in his explanation and turned to Penny. “Hey now, who is this little number?” Walter looked her up and down, mostly down, as in down the front of her dress. “Hot damn, Otto. You lucky son of a bitch.”

  Otto smiled, indicating that he too felt like a lucky son of a bitch, and that he wanted his dead uncle to leave him alone with the beautiful woman.

  “Otto?” Penny said.

  “Yes?” Otto said.

  “I asked what you did for a living.”

  “Ah, yes, I’m a mortician.”

  “Really?” Penny sat back, a look of shock overtaking her as she blinked a few times.

  “Cheese and crackers, son,” Walter said, running a hand down his long, pale face. “Did you really tell this fine looking lady you work with stiffs for a living?”

  “I’m sorry,” Otto said. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “Why not?” Penny said.

  “Well, it’s not very attractive. Or interesting.”

  Penny lowered her face, looking into her drink and swirling the bright blue contents. She huffed and shook her head. Otto was fairly sure he had lost this fishy, and readied himself for her prompt exit from his net. When she looked up again her smile was different. It was warmer and friendlier. No, it was genuine. For the first time since she sat down, she was genuinely smiling at something he said, rather than that forced, flirty grin.

  “Would you think I was lying,” she said, “if I said I almost went into the mortuary arts?”

  It was Otto’s turn to blink in disbelief.

  “You have got to be shitting me,” Walter said. “That is the biggest line of crap I have ever heard. I mean, I’ve pulled some world class cock-and-bull stories for a come-on, but that, nephew of mine, is the king of all lies. Know what I mean?”

  “No,” Otto said. “I don’t think you’re lying.”

  “You don’t?” Walter and Penny said together.

  “If you had put it any other way,” Otto said, “used any other phrase to describe my job, than yes, I would’ve doubted your sincerity. Instead, you chose your words very carefully, young lady. Only someone truly interested in the work would refer to it as the mortuary arts. Most people just call it undertaking. Or working with stiffs.”

  “I know,” Penny said. “I don’t tell people this very often … my family owns a mortuary. My father, and his father before him, back at least five generations. I was going to be the first woman in the Lane family to take up the trade.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “Oh, you know, sometimes you plan for one life and end up with another.”

  “She has no idea,” Walter said. “Sometimes you end up without a life.”

  Otto had a brief flash of where he thought his life with Miriam was headed, before she flushed their marriage down the toilet. “I can understand that.”

  “I always regretted it,” Penny said. “Being a mortician is so much more respectable than what I do.”

  “Penny, you shouldn’t think like that. Respectability comes from someone’s actions, not their employment. A job doesn’t define you as a person. It’s just a paycheck for most folks.”

  “You really believe that, don’t you?”

  “I do, because it is the truth.”

  “And because I raised you right,” Walter said. He nudged Otto on the shoulder. “Tell her what I always told you. Go on. I bet she’ll think it’s funny. Go on. Tell her.” He nudge Otto again. “Tell her. Tell her. Go on. Tell her. Why aren’t you telling her?”

  “Okay,” Otto said. He cleared his throat and said, “Walter always said that because someone works wiping down the booths at an adult movie theater, doesn’t mean they aren’t respectable.”

  “That isn’t what I said,” Walter said. “I said even a jizz mopper shows up for church on Sunday.”

  She chuckled softly and looked into her glass again. “Walter sounds like a heck of a guy.”

  “He sure was,” Otto said.

  The corpse nudged Otto again. “He’s standing right here.”

  “Is. Did I say was? Because I meant is. Now you’ve got me curious. What is it you do?”

  “I bet she’s a hooker,” Walter said.

  Otto glared at his uncle.

  “What?” Walter said. “She’s far too pretty to be chatting up the likes of you. She must be in it for something. Ask her how much, because I’ll bet she’s worth it.”

  “Come on,” Otto said. “You don’t have to be shy about it. You would be surprised at the kind of things people tell you at a funeral. Okay, maybe you wouldn’t be surprised, still, you get the idea. You can tell me, or not. No pressure.”

  Penny locked gazes with him for a long, silent moment. Otto was wondering what other surprises Penny had in store for him and Penny thinking God only knew what about Otto.

  “This is all very interesting,” Walter said, “and I really hate to bust up your little love fest here, but I got some bad news, son.”

  “What could be so bad?” Otto said, to both of them.

  “You don’t want to know,” Penny said at the same time Walter said, “Maloney is on the ship.”

  Otto stood up from his seat and shouted at Walter, “What!”

  “I’m sorry,” Penny said, getting to her feet as well. “And after you’ve been so honest with me too. I just can’t talk about it. I hope you understand.”

  “Why do this to me now?” Otto said.

  “I didn’t see him before now,” Walter said. “He must’ve been hiding out in his room all day. Just like you were. Fancy that.”

  “What do you mean?” Penny said.

  “You don’t understand,” Otto said. “How could you let this happen? How could you do this to me?”

  “Hey, I said be prepared,” Walter said. “You’re the one down here flirting with Miss Undertaker-wannabe while I was making the rounds.”

  “I’m sorry if you feel so strongly about it,” Penny said, grabbing her clutch. “Not all of us have respectable jobs we can brag about. Goodnight, Mr. Waldorf. I hope you enjoy the rest of your trip. Alone.”

  As Penny stomped away, Otto realized the poor woman must’ve assumed he was raving at her like a madman because she didn’t want to talk about work. “Penny! Please don’t go!” He ran after her, catching up with the woman as she passed through the doorway. Otto grabbed her by the elbow, stopping her on the outer deck. “Please, don’t mistake me. I wasn’t mad at you. I promise. I just, um, yes, well, um, oh!” He snapped his fingers as a thought hit him. “I just remembered I left the iron on in my room?”

  Penny furrowed her brow, obviously not buying his excuse.

  “She ain’t buying it,” Walter said. “I can’t blame her. I don’t buy it. I know why you’re selling it, and I still ain’t buying it.”

  “The iron?” she said.

  “Yes,” Otto said. He slipped a thumb under one of lapels of his jacket, holding the fabric out to her in the dim lighting. “I pressed my suit before I came down tonight. You know how they get so wrinkly in the garment bags.”

  “I guess so,” she said, a touch of humor creeping into her voice.

  “Of course you do. I remembered I left the iron on, and I was thinking to myself, Oh dear! I’ve left the iron on. Naturally, the thought of having to break away from our conversation upset me.” Otto shook a fist at the ceiling, toward his room on the upper deck. “Stupid iron. Grrr! Dragging me away from this beautiful woman’s company. Grrr! How could you do this to me?” He continued to shake his fist, smiling at her, as best he could, all things considered.

  Penny smiled as well, and not that fake one from before. She gave Otto another genuine grin and laughed at his silly story. Her eyes sparkled in the low light of the outer deck. “You are something else, you know that?”

  “That’s what my uncle is always telling me.”

  “Hey,” Walter said, “don’t drag my corps
e into this.”

  “So,” Penny said, stepping a bit closer to him, “I assume you have to run off and deal with the iron?”

  “That seems to be the case,” Otto said. “I wish I didn’t have to go.”

  “Don’t worry, this is a pretty small ship. We will see each other again.”

  “You think so?”

  “I know so.” She held out her hand to him. “Until tomorrow, Mr. Octavious Waldorf.”

  Otto took her hand into his, flipped it palm down, raised it to his lips and kissed it just above the knuckles. “Tomorrow it is, Miss Penelope Lane.”

  “Penny Lane?” Walter said. “Good grief. That is a fake name if I’ve ever heard one. You know she gave you a fake name, right, Otto? She has to be a hooker with a name like that. Are you listening to me?”

  Otto ignored his uncle, instead focusing on the seductive image of Penny’s ample rump swaying back and forth as she sashayed down the deck. He continued to stare until all he could make out was her silhouette fading into the darkness.

  “Otto?” Walter said.

  “Huh?”

  “You’re drooling, son.”

  Hastily wiping at his chin, Otto found it as dry as Walter’s humor. “Very funny.”

  “Oh, come on. Lighten up. I might be the stiff but you’re still the straight man.”

  Otto moved to the side of the deck until he stood on the edge, hugging the rail. He motioned Walter over to him, then whispered, “Tell me what you found out about Maloney.”

  “I was wandering around, trying to see if peeping on folks was as fun as it sounded.” Walter frowned deep enough to match the gash in his throat. “Trust me, it’s not.”

  “I don’t want to hear about that. Just get to the murdering lunatic that wants to cut my balls off!”

  Walter whistled low—an odd sound combined with the wheeze from his open throat—and raised his eyebrows as he nodded to Otto. Or rather, past Otto.

  Otto turned about to find a pair of old women staring at him as if he had grown an extra head. The same women from the dining room. He grinned sheepishly and tipped his fingers to his brow. “Evening, ladies.”

  The old biddies turned their collective noses into the air and shuffled off, once again whispering back and forth between them.

  “What a bunch of old farts,” Walter said.

  “On a singles’ cruise, of all things,” Otto said under his breath. “I suppose old folks get lonely too.”

  “And horny.”

  “Really?” Otto snorted, then smiled and nodded to a passing gentleman. Under his breath he said, “I couldn’t tell by the way you were ogling Penny.”

  “Ogling my foot. That was a first-rate undressing with the eyes you just witnessed, son. I had her stripped, in my bed and screaming for more with a sweep of these old peepers.”

  “You are a romantic at heart, aren’t you?”

  “I sure am. We were about to move onto cigarettes when you scared her off.”

  “I didn’t scare her off. You did. By freaking me out.”

  “Well excuse me for freaking you out. Speaking of freaks, what are you going to do about Maloney?”

  “Try and avoid him I suppose.”

  “You think he knows you’re on board?”

  “I sure hope not.”

  “Hey, I have a crazy idea. Maybe we should go and get my ashes and dump them now. I mean, why wait? Right? You want to get it over with. I want to get it over with. Let’s get it over with.”

  Otto stopped mid-step and leered at Walter. “Won’t you go away once your ashes hit the water?”

  Walter raised his face to the stars and whistled to himself. Either that or the sound was the wheeze through the corpse’s open throat as he craned his neck back to avoid looking at Otto.

  “You will disappear and you know it,” Otto said. He raised his hand in greeting to a couple as they passed Otto on the promenade. “Lovely evening.”

  The couple nodded in return.

  Once they passed, Otto slid closer to Walter and snarled, “You want to abandon me? In my hour of need? How could you?”

  “No,” Walter said, much too fast to really mean it. “It’s not like that.”

  “Then why don’t you tell me what it’s like?”

  The corpse shrugged. “I, you know, want my ashes in the water before they get tied up as evidence in a murder trial.”

  “Murder trial?” Otto clenched his fists with a huff. “Well for your information, I don’t have your stupid ashes.” Otto began walking again, picking up his pace as he left the corpse slack jawed and wide eyed. He took a left at the weight room and headed down the flight of stairs.

  Behind him he heard Walter shout, “What?”

  Otto could hear the telltale sounds of Walter scrambling down the stairs.

  “What did you say?” Walter said.

  “I don’t have your stupid ashes,” Otto said.

  “How could you not have them? Geesh slow down, son. I don’t understand why you wouldn’t bring them. What are you going to a fire? You said you stopped by work on the way back from the station. For Pete’s sake, let an old man catch up.”

  Otto stopped again and let Walter get closer. “No, I said I called work from the travel agency. I never said I went there.”

  “Aw, Otto. How could you do this to me? This whole trip was so you could do this one thing.”

  “I thought this whole trip was so I could hide out from a mobster who happens to be on the same boat?”

  “Yeah, but might as well kill two birds with one stone. Right?”

  “Please don’t make references to killing things.”

  “Sorry.”

  They started walking again in silence, making their way down another deck, traveling ever deeper into the bowels of the ship. The place was enormous, with several floors to navigate. Being a first class passenger, Otto normally would never have a need to travel below the main deck, where the dining hall and other amenities were located. However, the kennels were in the lower decks and he needed to see his best friend right about now.

  “I didn’t mean to leave your ashes behind,” Otto finally said. “In my rush to flee that maniac, I didn’t have time to retrieve the urn. I might as well have made time now, considering he’s caught up with me.”

  “Not your fault, I suppose,” Walter said. “We will just have to make another trip when you get back. You said they will keep my ashes for a few years, right?”

  “Right.”

  When they rounded a corner that lead to the kennel stairs, Walter stopped and said, “Wait up, where we going?”

  Otto mounted the staircase, stopping to look up at the corpse still standing alone on the landing. “Down to check on Finster.”

  “Uh, son, you really don’t want to go down there.”

  “Why not? I have the key to his pen. The staff said I could come and check on him anytime I liked.” Otto patted his jacket pocket, feeling for the shape of the kennel key as he skipped down the steps. And skip he did. His steps were light and easy, as was his heart. He couldn’t help it. Even with the added danger, knowing that he would see Penny tomorrow left Otto feeling better than he had in a long, long time.

  “I’m serious, Eightball.” Walter leaned over the stair rail, talking and not walking. “You really don’t want to go down there.”

  Still looking up at the corpse of his dead uncle, Otto paused at the last step and said, “Why on earth not?”

  “Mr. Octavious Waldorf?” another man said.

  “That’s why not,” Walter said.

  Otto lowered his eyes until his gaze met with a stranger standing in the shadows of a doorway marked ‘Kennels’. “Yes, that’s me. Do I know you?”

  “I don’t think so,” the man said, “though you may have heard of me.” The man stepped into the light, bringing forward an impressive build and height and fists. “I’m Toney Maloney and I believe you have something of mine.”

  Maloney grinned in a way that suggested he only s
miled when others frowned, or in Otto’s case, cowered. Otto kept his mouth shut, because he was fairly sure if he opened it he would scream like a little girl.

  Chapter Ten

  Bringing up Baby

  Seconds later

  Banjo lingered in the darkened kennel, well out of sight, patiently waiting to make sure this Waldorf character didn’t try anything stupid. Maloney said he wanted to toy with the mark for a little while, put the guy on the spot, make him squirm a bit before the real deal went down. And boy did the mark ever squirm. In all of the years he had strong-armed folks, this was the first time Banjo had seen a victim truly squirm in every sense of the word. Waldorf stood on the last step, wiggling like a three year old that needed to pee but was too afraid to ask if he could go. It would’ve been funny if Banjo didn’t feel so sorry for the guy. Maloney had caught Waldorf completely off guard. Banjo was glad he had asked Maloney to leave Chris and Marv out of this first meeting. There was no telling how the mortician would’ve reacted to confronting Maloney’s entire crew right out of the gate. Though to Waldorf’s credit, despite the gruff appearance of Maloney, the man didn’t run. He stood his squirmy ground.

  “I know this is sudden,” Maloney said. “We had to do this eventually. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  “Agree?” Waldorf said in a squeaky echo.

  Maloney reached into his pocket.

  Waldorf winced, cowering back until Maloney pulled a key out and jangled it at the poor sap.

  “I think you have my kennel key,” Maloney said.

  “Excuse me?”

  “The powers that be switched our fucking keys.”

  The powers that be in this case was Mr. Banjo, however, Waldorf didn’t need to know that.

  Waldorf fumbled with his pockets for a moment until he found the key Jones slipped him. He read the tag, then furrowed his brow. “This one says it’s mine.”

  “This one says it is yours as well,” Maloney said. “And it fits your dog’s pen.” Maloney leaned toward Waldorf, lowering his voice as he said, “I know, because I’ve been inside.”

  “You’ve been in Finster’s pen?” Waldorf said, then pushed aside the larger man and stormed into the kennels beyond.