The Last One to Let You Down

by K. L. Hiers

  “Oh, I’m fine, baby,” Edie replied, grinning up at Cypress. “Wow! You need a ladder to get all up on that, don’t you?”

  “Edie!” Tom hissed.

  “Is this your fella, baby?” Edie waved. “Hi! I’m Edith. It’s so nice to meet you!”

  “It’s nice to meet you, too, ma’am,” Cypress replied politely. “Nice shot.”

  “Nice shot, my left foot. I was aimin’ for his nuts.”

  There was more banging at the back door, and Tom left to go answer it. He was nearly bulldozed by paramedics, waving them down the hallway to the prep room. He kicked the door stand to keep the door open, cringing at the sound of sirens as police cars began to swarm the side parking lot.

  An unmarked black sedan pulled up right by the garage door, and Fox stepped out. He snorted when he saw Tom, asking dryly, “Why am I not surprised to see you here?”

  “I mean, I do work here?” Tom replied, attempting a weak smile. He jumped when he felt a hand on his arm, whirling around to find Cypress there. “Hi.”

  “Hey.” Cypress took Tom’s hand, leading him out of the funeral home and clear from the door as the paramedics came out with Aaron.

  Tom was expecting some dramatic screaming or crazy threats, but he didn’t hear a peep out of Aaron as they wheeled him away. Tom clung to Cypress, forgetting to breathe until the ambulance doors shut, and it pulled away.

  “So, you wanna tell me what happened?” Fox asked. “Dispatch said someone was trying to kill everybody?”

  “It was Aaron,” Tom replied, hoping his voice wasn’t as unsteady as it felt. “He’s the one who’s been helping Junior. He’s also the one who broke into my house…”

  With Cypress holding his hand tight, Tom told Fox everything that had happened and what Aaron had said.

  “Junior might be willing to make a deal and testify against Aaron,” Fox mused. “Lord knows he’s been trying everything to wiggle out of his charges. I have a feeling we know who all those mysterious prints belong to now.”

  “Is he under arrest?” Cypress asked firmly.

  “Oh, don’t you worry about that,” Fox said. “I’ve got men already headed to the hospital to put a very cute pair of cuffs on him. Once he’s stable enough to move, he’s getting some new orange jammies.”

  “Do you need anything else from me?” Tom asked, hoping the answer was no. He was totally exhausted, and he wanted to leave.

  “I’ll need both of you to come down to the station for an official statement,” Fox replied with a sympathetic smile. “Annie Oakley in there, too.”

  “Right, Miss Edie.” Tom frowned. “Shit, where is she?”

  “She might be in there talking to forensics,” Fox suggested. “You can go check on her if you’d like.”

  “Thank you, Fox.” Tom hesitated, asking carefully, “I don’t suppose Junior, uh, tried to do any wiggling that may involve me?”

  Fox grinned. “Funny story. Did you know this state doesn’t actually have any laws against selling formaldehyde? The most you could get is a misdemeanor for distribution of hazardous chemicals.”

  “Are you serious?” Tom stared in shock. “What, what about the state board? My license?”

  “Oh, well, those guys could pop your license for immoral behavior or unethical practices, but hey, who’s gonna tell them?” Fox winked. “Go say good night to your friend and go home. We can get your statements tomorrow.”

  “Thank you, Fox,” Cypress said, reaching out to shake his hand.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Fox said, rolling his eyes. “You know I got your back, Shirley. You guys hurry up and get on out of here. I already told you once.”

  “You got it,” Cypress confirmed, looping his arm with Tom’s and leading him back inside the funeral home to find Miss Edie.

  She was still in the prep room while the forensics team took samples and bagged her revolver. A few cops were also in there, and everyone was spellbound as she chatted while she worked on Mr. Crosby’s sister’s hair.

  “And then,” she was saying, clearly in the middle of a grand tale, “he tells me the money is in the paper bag. And I said, ‘You mean the paper bag Parkie just shit in?’”

  They all burst out laughing, and Tom was very confused.

  “Oh! Hey, baby!” Edie waved, setting her curling iron down and pulling Tom into a big hug. “Mm, you okay? Your color ain’t good, baby. Have you eaten today?”

  “I’m, uh, still a little shaken up.” Tom smiled weakly. “Are you okay? You’re, well, you’re really calm.”

  “Oh, this ain’t nothin’,” Edie said, waving her hand. “I’ve been in worse spots than this, baby.”

  “Worse than someone threatening to kill you?”

  “You know who you’re talking to, right?” one of the officers asked.

  “Miss Edie, the hairdresser?” Tom tried.

  “Miss Edith Emory, the getaway driver for the Pocketwatch Gang,” the officer explained. “Come on, she’s a freakin’ legend.”

  “Emory?” Tom stared at Edie. “That’s not your… wait… you mean Scott was right? You were a bank robber?”

  “That was all a very long time ago, and on account of the double jeopardy, I can’t be arrested no more.” Edie smiled primly. “But I don’t do none of that stuff now, baby. I just do hair.”

  “Well, then,” Cypress laughed. “Just when I thought this night couldn’t get even crazier.”

  “Why didn’t you ever tell me?” Tom was still having trouble believing it. “You’re such a sweet lady.”

  “I can be a sweet lady and an old crook,” Edie informed him. “Remember, baby, there’s always more to people than what’s on the outside.” She picked up her hairspray and began to let loose. “Besides, you never asked me.”

  “I love you. You’re wonderful. Thank you for saving my life. I’m going home now.” Tom waited for the cloud of hairspray to fade so he could get another hug.

  “I love you, too, baby,” Edie gushed, giving him a big squeeze. She wagged her finger at Cypress, warning, “Now, you better take good care of him and make sure he gets home safe.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Cypress promised.

  They left the funeral home and got into Cypress’s van but found that the back parking lot entrance was blocked off by police cars. Cypress flashed his lights, and an officer called out that he’d get someone to move so they could leave.

  “I still can’t believe it,” Tom said, staring out the windshield. “Miss Edie is a bank robber.”

  “That’s what you’re stuck on?”

  “They said she used to run moonshine, too.” Tom gasped, instantly scandalized as he hissed, “And that she tried to kill Mr. Crosby’s wife. Oh, my God.”

  “Tom.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Are you okay?” Cypress reached over for his hand. “You haven’t said very much about what happened with Aaron.”

  “I’m…” Tom paused, trying to sort out what to say. The dull ache in his chest was beginning to throb again, and it made it hard to think.

  “We don’t have to talk about it right now if you’re not ready. I know it’s a lot to process.”

  “I guess I’m trying to distract myself from talking about Aaron by thinking about Miss Edie.”

  “If that’s helping you deal, then let’s do that.”

  “No, it’s okay. I’m kind of… I’m actually heartbroken, to be honest.” Tom swallowed thickly. “I really thought he was my friend. But in the end, none of that mattered. He’s just as ugly as everybody else.”

  “Ugly? What do you mean?”

  “Death brings out the worst in people. I’ve seen families fighting over their poor mom’s jewelry, and she’s dead on the floor right next to them. I saw one guy serve his wife divorce papers when we were there picking up their child. I’ve heard kids arguing over who’s gonna get grandpa’s guns while he’s still warm.

  “And then the next day at the funeral, they all act like they cared so damn much and put on this big sho
w. We see the nastiest side of people that nobody else does. It’s amazing what absolute monsters they can be. But I didn’t think… I didn’t think one would be right in front of me, and I would have no idea.”

  Cypress sighed, kissing Tom’s hand. “I know I could say you can’t judge a book by its cover and all that shit—”

  “Ugh. Please don’t.”

  “I’m not,” Cypress soothed. “Just listen. You hold yourself and your co-workers to an incredible standard. Hell, even the entire funeral business. You guys have one of the hardest jobs there is. But while taking care of the dead and their loved ones is very admirable, you’re still only human.”

  “I know,” Tom said quietly. “I guess I liked pretending that we were better somehow. Like we were stronger.”

  “In some ways, maybe you are. I don’t expect you have tons of guys knocking down the door trying to be funeral directors. It takes a special person to do what you do, right?”

  “Yeah. And crazy.” Tom tried to smile. “I think crazy is a prerequisite, too.”

  “No disagreement there.”

  Tom laughed. “Hey, easy now. You know you don’t always have to agree with me, yeah?”

  “It’s not my fault you’re right.” Cypress chuckled.

  The car that was blocking the exit moved, and Cypress waved as they were finally able to pull out.

  “You’re right, too,” Tom said, leaning his head against the window.

  “About?”

  “Book, cover. It’s like what Edie said, too. About her being a sweet old lady and a crook? Okay, yeah, it’s kind of cliche, but people can always surprise you.”

  “It’s not always good,” Cypress pointed out.

  “Sometimes it is, though,” Tom insisted. He was able to laugh again, saying, “Like finding out the hot flower guy is actually a hot florist guy.

  “Or that the shy little undertaker really likes to get spanked,” Cypress added cheerfully.

  “Mm, that, too.” Tom blushed. “Heh, you know, it kinda makes me not want to trust anyone again. I mean, how would you ever know what a person is truly capable of?”

  “I guess you really don’t. Hmm. The mailman could be a cannibal.”

  “Pizza delivery guy might be a vampire.”

  “Nah, pizzas have garlic on them,” Cypress countered. “Probably a werewolf.”

  Tom chuckled and let out a long sigh. “It sucks.”

  “Vampires usually do.”

  Tom rolled his eyes, though he did appreciate Cypress lightening the mood. “I can’t believe I’m not freaking the fuck out. Shouldn’t I be freaking out?”

  “Well,” Cypress began thoughtfully, “maybe you’re a book that doesn’t match up with your cover either. I do seem to remember a certain somebody telling Fox how they were stalling for time by keeping Aaron talking. Pretty solid thinking for a man with a gun pointed at him.”

  “Ha, you think so?” Tom felt a flutter of pride.

  “I know so.” Cypress smiled. “It’s like I keep telling you, Tom. You are a fierce fuckin’ tiger when you want to be. Yeah, some people out there are gonna be real ugly on the inside, but not you. You’re more beautiful and braver than you even know.”

  Tom ducked his head. “But also, crazy.”

  “So, what?” Cypress shrugged. “Everybody is a little crazy.”

  “I feel like it’s all gonna hit me at once, and I’m going to fall apart,” Tom said wistfully.

  “And if you do, I’ll be right here to pick you up again.” Cypress squeezed Tom’s knee.

  “Thank you,” Tom said with an appreciative smile. “I’m really glad—” His phone began to ring. “Ah, fuck.”

  “Who is it?”

  “It’s Mr. Crosby. Oh, God. The shooting. He doesn’t know.”

  “I’m sure someone told him.” Cypress frowned as the phone kept ringing. “Are you gonna pick up?”

  “Yeah, I just have no idea what to say.”

  “Hello is a good start.”

  Tom made a face, finally answering the call. “Hey there, Mr. Crosby.”

  “Hi, Tom!” Mr. Crosby said warmly. “I wanted to thank you for the marvelous job you did for my sister.”

  “Wait, are you at the funeral home?” Tom frowned.

  “Oh, yes!” Mr. Crosby exclaimed. “There’s certainly a lot of people here. Very exciting. Edith has truly outdone herself. Both of you. I cannot say how much I appreciate it.”

  “No problem, Mr. Crosby,” Tom replied. “It’s my pleasure.”

  “You’re a good boy, Tom. Thank you again. You enjoy all your time off, and I’ll see you next week.”

  “What are you talking about, sir? I’m supposed to come back the day after tomorrow.”

  “You still have another week off,” Mr. Crosby scolded. “Come on. You need to rest up or that ankle of yours is never going to heal.”

  “But Mr. Crosby—”

  “Don’t worry about us here. Gerald and I can handle it.” Mr. Crosby sounded like he was smiling now. “Take care of yourself, Tom. Bye bye now.”

  “Bye, Mr. Crosby.”

  “You okay?” Cypress asked, glancing over at him when he stopped at a light. “You have the funniest look on your face.”

  “Well, I have another week off from work,” Tom replied. “I don’t think he understands what’s happened.”

  “Maybe it’s better if he doesn’t,” Cypress said. “It’s nice you have some more time off. And what do you know? I’m off, too. Imagine that.”

  “Yeah.” Tom bit at his lip. “You, uh, still wanna stay with me?”

  “I’d love to.” Cypress’s hand lingered on Tom’s knee, rising to brush his thigh.

  “Huh.” Tom pretended to think. “But what are we gonna do to pass all that time?”

  “Oh, I’m sure I can think of a few things,” Cypress replied with a smug little smile. “After all, you still have a lot to learn, don’t you?”

  “Oh, yes, sir.”

  It took almost three weeks for the media frenzy around the funeral home to die down. Both Junior and Aaron were in jail awaiting trial, and Gerald announced he was retiring as soon as they hired more help. He hadn’t said anything about what happened, and his temper had been even nastier than usual.

  If someone asked him directly about Junior’s situation, he would coldly say, “I don’t have a son.”

  Mr. Crosby remained upbeat as always, and his reply to any questions about what had happened was simply, “I’m so happy the chicken wasn’t hurt.”

  Following his latest recovery courtesy of Mr. Crosby’s addled mind, Tom returned to work, and the newfound infamy hadn’t hurt their call volume. If anything, it actually seemed busier. Since they were now down two funeral directors, he had more late nights working visitations and services, but he didn’t mind.

  Well, he did, but it was hard being grumpy about it when he had Cypress waiting up for him now.

  He and Cypress had continued to be nearly inseparable. Before his time off from the flower shop was over, Cypress whisked Tom away to the beach for the first real vacation either of them had had in years. Mister Doodles chased seagulls, Tom got sunburned, and they all had a wonderful time.

  Though they still made it over to Tom’s a few nights a week, it was easier to spend the night at Cypress’s place. Mister Doodles had a set of food and water dishes there now, and she seemed as happy as her owner, who could also boast about his very own drawer in Cypress’s dresser.

  She did seem confused why they borrowed her leash sometimes but, otherwise, was perfectly content.

  The sex remained incredibly intense, and Tom lived for every sizzling moment of it. He felt so much more confident now, and he would never tire of the unique thrill he found doing what Cypress told him to.

  He still had moments when he could hear Mrs. Dresser’s screams or feel the shock of terror from when Aaron had stuck that gun in his face, but they were easier to deal with. He knew how to breathe now, how to push the fears away, and it
was all thanks to Cypress.

  Tom felt like a new person. Some of his awkward quirks lingered, probably always would, but he never hesitated to smile anymore. Maybe he was not quite the fierce tiger Cypress thought him to be, but he was at least a very large house cat.

  Maybe a lynx.

  He’d learned to turn Mr. Crosby and Gerald down when he needed a break, kept his overtime to a minimum, and he was sleeping on a semi-regular schedule. He didn’t know how long it would all last, but he was determined to hold onto it for as long as he could.

  Tonight was the first visitation he’d worked in a week, and he’d be headed over to Cypress’s house as soon as it was over. The family was very nice, but they did have a peculiar request: They wanted seven vases to divide up the casket spray before the burial so each of the seven daughters could keep some of the flowers.

  Luckily, Tom knew just who to call.

  Cypress thought it was odd, but he agreed to find seven vases and said he’d head that way soon. He’d even try to find seven that matched.

  The family was so grateful Tom was able to help them that he had to stand there and take seven very tearful hugs, each daughter determined to squeeze more life out of him than the last.

  When he was finally able to free himself, he retreated to the front door away from the chapel where everyone was gathered. He took a deep breath and tried to fix his tie, certainly rumpled from all the hugging. He heard someone approaching, turning around to see Mr. Crosby walking over to him.

  “Hey, Tom!” he said cheerfully.

  “Hey, sir.” Tom reached out to shake his hand. “I didn’t know you were still here.”

  “Ah, just popping in to see how the services are going. That was very kind of you.”

  “Huh?”

  “I was in the break room, and Miss Wheel was getting more ice. She told me about the vases.” Mr. Crosby beamed at him proudly. “Going above and beyond to make a family happy? Mm, you would make a fine director, Tom.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Crosby,” Tom said with a gracious smile. “I really appreciate that, but, you know, my heart is in the back.”

  “I understand. My old mentor, William Babb, the greatest man I’ve ever known and the finest embalmer that ever picked up a scalpel, was like that. Didn’t much care for the living.”