The Quiet Type

by Summer Prescott

  When his shudders subsided a bit, another blood-chilling thought occurred to him…what if he was next? Why hadn’t she killed him yet? He’d seen a look in her eyes that had disturbed him, but he’d shrugged it off, and now she knew that he’d explored her underground workshop of horror. He’d have to be very careful from now on, walking on eggshells around his wife, while desperately searching for evidence that would exonerate her. What would he do if she went to prison? At least he’d be free from the fear that consumed him right now. Feeling intensely disloyal, Tim tried his very best to convince himself that this must all just be coincidental. He’d do a little more exploring, at times when he knew that Susannah was at work and wouldn’t interrupt his search.

  In the meantime, he had a body to prepare, which needed extensive work in order to appear like the fresh-face young woman who’d been smothered was merely asleep. Tim was wracked with constant anxiety as he finished taking his photos. He reconstructed the murder of Abigail, picturing his wife calmly dissecting her after her life had been snuffed out. He knew that duct tape had been used to suffocate her, he saw the sticky remnants on her face. The coroner had obviously removed the tape, but spots of adhesive still clung to her cold discolored cheeks.

  The mortician felt so wrung out by the time that he’d taken the photos and stitched up the wound on her foot, and the missing patch from her scalp, that he closed down for the day, tucking the girl neatly into a refrigerated drawer. He planned to do the reconstruction of her eyelids tomorrow, after he’d had a chance to rest. Perhaps the shaking in his hands might stop by then. Tim leaned against the bank of refrigerated drawers after closing Abigail’s, and closed his eyes, frazzled and weary.

  “Rough day?” Susannah’s voice made him jump, his heart threatening to leap from his chest.

  He took a deep, shaky breath.

  “It always is when I have to deal with the sheriff,” he hedged.

  “The sheriff? Again?” Susannah raised an eyebrow. “What did he want?”

  “To make sure that I did a good job on my latest deceased,” the mortician shrugged, avoiding his wife’s eyes.

  “Why would he care?”

  “Who knows? Maybe he knew the family. Pellman is a small town.”

  “Did he say anything else?” she asked, appearing nonchalant, but for the tightness around her mouth.

  “Thankfully, no. I’m always glad to see him leave,” Tim admitted truthfully.

  “I brought home dinner. Coq au Vin, if you’re hungry.”

  Tim’s stomach rolled and flopped at the thought of putting anything in his mouth that had been prepared by the hands that had cut pieces from a pretty teenager. Bile rose again in his throat, and he swallowed hard against it.

  “Actually, I think I may be coming down with something. I’m not feeling well,” he placed a hand on his stomach and grimaced.

  Susannah stepped back. She might be a serial killer, but she was also more than paranoid about coming into contact with germs.

  “Should I put sheets on the bed in the guest room for you?” she asked.

  “That would be quite nice,” Tim nodded, relieved that at least he wouldn’t have to lie beside her.

  While he was trying to convince himself that there was no possible way that his wife could be a serial killer, he wasn’t quite there yet, so staying away from her was a more comfortable option for now.

  “Okay, see you at home,” she turned and headed for the stairs.

  “I’ll be there shortly,” he said, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

  As Susannah turned away, he spotted something on the sole of her shoe that looked suspiciously like blood.

  CHAPTER 25

  * * *

  The Shadow Knows

  Dr. Bradley Dobbins looked at his appointments for the day, and noticed that something seemed to be missing.

  “Jenna,” he got his spunky blonde receptionist’s attention. “Isn’t Thursday when Elmo is supposed to come in for his treatment?”

  “Hang on a sec,” she tapped on the computer. “Yep, Thursdays are his treatment days, but there’s a note in here that says he’s missing,” she turned to face him with a confused frown.

  “Missing?” the vet’s eyes darkened.

  “Yep, they’ve been looking for him since last Friday.”

  “The day after his last treatment.”

  “Looks that way.”

  “Get his owner on the phone, see if they have any idea as to where he might be.”

  “Okay,” Jenna stared at her boss’s retreating back, wondering at his strange reaction to the news that Elmo was missing.

  Bradley threw down his appointment list in disgust. He had quotas to meet, and losing pets was costing him money. Up until a couple of months ago, he’d been engaging in a regular cycle of giving the pets a little something to create symptoms, then treating them to make the symptoms go away with his magical supplements. It was working out quite well, and the bonuses that he was getting from the pharmaceutical company had gone a long way toward making his dream of retiring in the Caribbean a reality.

  Elmo wasn’t the first. A scraggly cat named Bootsie had disappeared, as had an ill-tempered mutt named Victor. When Dobbins gave Victor his “bad dose,” he’d gone ahead and made him a little sicker than usual, simply because the beast had tried to bite him, and, failing in that, had peed on his lab coat. Three revenue streams had just up and disappeared, and Brad didn’t believe for an instant that it was merely a coincidence. He had to get to the bottom of this mess, and soon, before it wiped out his hopes for retiring well.

  Jenna tapped timidly at his office door, but smiled the coy smile that had made him hire her on the spot, despite the fact that she’d had no veterinary training or experience.

  “Dr. Dobbins, they said that they have no idea where Elmo might be, and that they’re heart broken.”

  Bradley sighed and nodded.

  “Fine. Let them know that I can put them in touch with a good breeder when they’re ready, and that sooner is better than later. They need to put their grief behind them by caring for another animal.”

  “I’ll let them know,” Jenna agreed, sending him another soft smile that caused him to stir a bit, in spite of his bad mood.

  “I have an emergency situation that I need to tend to, so I’ll be gone for an hour or two. Reschedule whatever appointments you need to,” he instructed as she left.

  “Will do. I hope everything’s okay.”

  “It will be.”

  **

  Sheriff Arlen Bemis regarded the clearly enraged veterinarian on the other side of the desk, hands tented under his chin.

  “I’m telling you, Arlen, it’s gotta be that mortician who’s behind all of this. I didn’t have any issues with pets dying until he came and set up shop. Now I’ve had three disappear in less than two months,” Brad insisted.

  “Could be coincidence,” the sheriff mused, not rattled in the least.

  “But it’s not. Mrs. Truman saw that evil mutt Victor going into the mortuary.”

  “Maybe Victor’s owner is one of those people who takes their dog everywhere.”

  “I can assure you, Rosa does not take her dog everywhere with her. She works in food service for crying out loud. Restaurants are pretty picky about dog hair in the food,” Brad sneered. “Wait! That’s it,” he snapped his fingers, his eyes manic.

  “What?” Arlen sighed.

  “Rosa worked at Le Chateau. Guess who else works at Le Chateau??” the veterinarian exclaimed excitedly.

  “Elmo’s mom?” the sheriff rolled his eyes.

  “No! The mortician’s wife. She’s one of the chefs. Don’t you see…she probably told Rosa that her husband would kill Victor for her, so she could stop paying her vet bills.”

  “Bit of a stretch, don’t you think?”

  “No, Arlen, I don’t think it’s a stretch, I think this animal-loving mortician with a conscience is ruining my business, and I want it to stop now. He’s not licen
sed to euthanize, which is a crime.”

  “A crime for which there is absolutely no evidence,” the sheriff reminded the agitated vet.

  “And what about that young girl who died? What if he was involved with that?”

  “He had an alibi, and the evidence, once again, doesn’t put him anywhere near that girl or the crime. If you want me to go after this guy, the evidence has to back you up, otherwise it’s nothing but wild speculation.”

  “Oh, there’ll be plenty of evidence when I get done with Eckels,” Bradley finally relaxed a bit, the corner of his mouth curling into a rather unpleasant smirk.

  “This sounds like something that I don’t want to hear,” Arlen remarked, standing. “You got time for lunch?”

  Dobbins glanced at his watch. It wouldn’t hurt his patients to keep them waiting for another hour, it’s not like they were going to die.

  “Of course I do,” he agreed. Lunch would be a celebration of sorts, because he intended to put his newly-conceived plan into action upon his return.

  **

  “Tanner, I’d like a word with you, please,” Dobbins informed his glorified kennel attendant when he returned to the clinic.

  “Uh…okay,” the young man agreed, following him back to his office.

  “Please, sit down,” Brad gestured to a chair in front of his desk, and instead of sitting across the desk in his leather executive chair, took a seat across from the clearly nervous lad.

  Tanner crossed his feet at the ankles, his bony arms resting on the arms of the chair, and looked at the vet with a mixture of suspicion and what looked like fear.

  “Do you like working here?” Brad asked, perversely enjoying the young man’s discomfort.

  “Why? Did I do something wrong?” he peered out from under the hair that swooped over and covered one eye almost completely.

  “No, no, of course not, I’m just asking you if you enjoy working here.”

  “Uh…yeah, I do.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, it’s easy, and I like the animals,” Tanner shrugged.

  “Sounds like we’re paying you too much,” Dobbins chuckled.

  “I…uh…” the young man didn’t know how to respond.

  “Don’t worry, I was kidding,” the vet let him off the hook with a practiced smile. “However, if you’d like a chance to earn some extra money, I might know of a way to make that happen.”

  “Umm...yeah, I could use more money. Are you going to increase my hours? I have another part time job, and…”

  Dobbins held up a hand, stopping the young man’s questions.

  “Even better. You can keep your other job, and do something else during the times that you’d normally be here.”

  “Something else?”

  “Yes. I would supplement whatever your new employer pays you.”

  “But…why would you do that?” Tanner frowned.

  “Because I need something that you can get for me.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Information. You interested? I’ll make it worth your while.”

  “Yes, sir,” the young man nodded, intrigued.

  CHAPTER 26

  * * *

  An Inside Job

  Tanner Benson had dressed in his best jeans, a short-sleeved white dress shirt, and the only tie that he owned, a purple paisley left over from when he’d attended his father’s funeral. His long thin hair was pulled back into what he hoped was a respectable pony tail, and he’d shaved the scattered wisps of hair on his chin, so that he looked fresh-faced for the interview that he hoped to have.

  He didn’t know why Bradley Dobbins wanted so badly for him to work with Susannah’s husband, but he was willing to let Tanner keep his job at the vet clinic, as well as pay him extra for working with the mortician. With three jobs instead of two, he might be able to start taking some classes at the local community college. Even if they were online, he’d at least be able to knock out some of his core requirements.

  “You’re not returning the dog,” Tim stated flatly when he came upstairs and saw Tanner loitering in the foyer of the funeral home.

  “Uh…no, I’m not. He’s a good boy,” the young man fought the urge to jam his hands into his pockets or cross his arms. He wanted to make a good impression and body language was important.

  “Then what is it that you need?” the stressed-out mortician sighed. He’d been working all morning on Abigail Sorenson’s eyelashes, and his neck hurt from craning closer to his task lamp in order to make precise adjustments.

  “Uh…so, when I was here the other day, I saw…what you were working on, and I, uh…would really like to learn to do that.”

  “Then go to school,” Tim replied dismissively, turning to go.

  “Wait,” Tanner said, panicking a bit. “I was thinking that, since you’re really busy here…maybe I could do some things that you don’t like to do. You know, so that you can just do the stuff that you wanna do. And then…if there’s any time after I do whatever you need, maybe you could teach me the other stuff…the interesting stuff. You know, like an apprentice,” he proposed, his eyes wide and guileless.

  The truth was, he did want to know more about what Tim did. It seemed to him to be very similar to his hobby, but with people instead of animals. It didn’t matter in his mind, that, while he actually was truly interested in mortuary science, he was mostly interested in the money to be gained from becoming Tim’s apprentice.

  Tim paused for a moment, appearing to consider the proposition.

  “I’m not good with people,” he muttered.

  “I could talk to people for you if you wanted me to,” Tanner offered, hating the idea, but wanting the job.

  Tim stared at him, blinking, and the door opened, admitting an elderly woman who walked with a cane.

  “Well Tanner, it’s lovely to see you here,” she smiled, making a beeline for the two men. “You’re not here for a loved one, are you?”

  “How are you Mrs. Parsons?” the young man smiled. “No, I’m just here talking to Mr. Eckels about a job.”

  “Well, how lovely. You’re not leaving Dr. Dobbins though, are you?”

  “No ma’am, I’ll still be there.”

  “That’s good. Fluffy responds so well to you. That’s why I’m here. I’m following your advice,” she leaned forward and whispered, patting Tanner’s arm.

  Tim was more than irritated that apparently, another person was coming to him for the compassionate euthanizing of their pet. Before he could say anything, however, Tanner stepped in to save the day.

  “Oh, yeah, I’m sorry, but I made a mistake. I thought it was Mr. Eckels who…you know, but it wasn’t. The guy who owned this place before him did that,” the young man lied.

  “Virgil? That shocks me to my foundations. No wonder he moved out of town, his mama would not have approved. Okay,” Mrs. Parsons nodded sadly. “I guess I’ll just keep treating Fluffy and see what happens. I just hate seeing her suffer.”

  “Me too,” Tanner agreed, walking her to the door. “All we can do is hope for the best.”

  “All right dear. Thank you so much,” she waved and shuffled out the door.

  “You’re hired,” Tim said tonelessly.

  **

  Tanner had actually enjoyed his time at the mortuary, taking care of families who came in to pick out caskets or select funeral plans, and, at the end of the day, watching Tim work on restoring a healthy glow to the corpse of Abigail Sorenson. It was peaceful, and the way that Timothy Eckels worked with the deceased seemed almost to be a tribute of sorts. It had been a long day, but the work wasn’t rocket science, so, while he was tired, he still felt good.

  Arriving home, he saw a black plastic trash bag, which clearly had something small in it, snugged up to his front door. He grabbed it by the cinch ties and took it inside with him. Once he’d laid it on his tiny dinette table, he read the tag that was attached to it:

  I saw this today and thought that you might be able to make it into
something. SE

  Curious, he opened up the garbage bag, and was horrified to find a fat grey tabby cat lying stiffly in a pool of blood. The poor thing’s fur was saturated with it and, turning it over, Tanner saw that the source of the blood was a stab wound to the neck. There were some claw marks in the bag which led him to believe that the otherwise healthy looking cat had been alive when it was placed inside, and had tried to fight its way out.

  He stroked the top of the cat’s head, noticing the brilliant gold of his eyes, despite the clouding of death.

  “I’m sorry little guy,” he murmured. “I’ll take care of you, I promise.”

  Since he had to get ready for his dinner shift at Le Chateau, Tanner left the cat in the bag and placed him in the freezer so that he could deal with him later. He washed his hands, changed into his chef pants and jacket, and headed for the door.

  “How’d you like it?” Susannah asked with a secretive smile when Tanner came into the kitchen of Le Chateau.

  “Did you kill it?” he asked, his expression guarded.

  Her smile vanished, and her eyes darted a bit before she answered.

  “No, of course not. I found it and just thought that you might want to do something with it,” she shrugged. “If you don’t like it, I can take it to my husband so that he can torch it.”

  “No, I’ll make something with it,” Tanner replied, hiding his disgust.

  “I have some trout to fillet if you’d like,” she offered.

  “No, I’ll just do the squash,” he murmured, turning away.

  CHAPTER 27

  * * *

  Raising the Stakes

  Bradley Dobbins sat in his living room, staring into space, brooding. He didn’t know why he was so convinced that the weasel of an undertaker was undermining his business, but the timing seemed more than coincidental, and he sort of had a witness who saw a dog going in to the mortuary. A dog who just happened to disappear from his treatment program. He’d worked too damn hard to let some creepy mortician with a conscience ruin everything. The pasty, paunchy, bespectacled man didn’t seem terribly bright, which made it even more important for Brad to defeat him.