The Murder Next Door

by Ivy Thorne

  The next couple of hours went by fast as Marla injected an embalming solution into Ms. Denning’s arteries, draining the blood from her veins. She remembered once asking Mr. Oswald what the best way to describe the embalming process was in the event a family asked. He’d told her to compare the embalming process to changing the oil in a car. One must remove the old oil from the car and replenish it with new oil. Similarly, to embalm a body, one must remove the blood and replace it with a preservative chemical.

  A process called aspiration was used to remove the solids, liquids, semi-solids, and gases from the viscera. This was done by using a long hollow needle called a trocar, which was connected to the aspirator. In a sense, the aspirator was a vacuum cleaner.

  Contrary to what most people think, there was no need to completely open up the body. The organs were not replaced, they simply were evacuated through an incision made in proximity to the belly button to insert the trocar. This part of embalming was Marla’s least favorite, as it often smelled the worst. It was also the most gruesome aspect − one she’d likely avoid describing to people.

  Marla was busying herself replacing the contents of Ms. Denning’s viscera with a highly toxic solution called cavity fluid. This chemical had a particularly high percentage of formaldehyde in it to preserve the interior structures of bodies.

  Whenever attaching the bottle of fluid to a tube connected to the end of a trocar, Marla made certain the bottle was screwed on tight. Even the smallest drop of that chemical resulted in a strong odor that caused the back of her nose and throat to burn.

  It was while she was washing and drying Ms. Dennings’ hair that Marla heard the door open.

  “Hello?” she called. She switched off the hairdryer.

  “Oh, hello, Marla.” It was Mr. Oswald.

  He was dressed in his regular clothes, as opposed to his suit. This implied to Marla that he wasn’t planning on being in the public eye. He smiled in greeting and stepped toward her, his hands in his pockets. While doing so he glanced at Ms. Dennings, who, thanks to Marla, had a flush of pink to her skin.

  Mr. Oswald complimented Marla on her formidable work. “Excellent job, as usual,” he said. He studied the paperwork on the clipboard. The dead person’s paperwork always was displayed on a clipboard that hung from a hook on the wall in the embalming room. It was from the paperwork that one could learn a person’s name, cause of death, and any specific instructions regarding how the family wanted them to look.

  “Ms. Dennings is looking lively,” he said. “I’d say she looks open casket good.”

  Marla thanked him with a chuckle. The phrase ‘open casket good’ was one a funeral director used to communicate how nice a person looked. Disturbingly enough, Marla often had used it to describe how other live people looked.

  Dane looks open casket good, she thought whimsically.

  “What are you doing here so early?” Marla then asked. She glanced at the clock on the wall. “Don’t you start at one?”

  “I came in earlier to wash my car and catch up on some paperwork. Ever since Denise and I downsized to the townhouse, I don’t exactly have the garage space I once did. The damn car barely fits in that garage!” He shrugged. “Still, it’s a beautiful little space.”

  Mr. Oswald was speaking about his wife, Denise, who’d recently moved with him from their spacious but empty house to a quaint townhouse.

  “Again, lovely job,” he complimented her, nodding toward Ms. Dennings. “Mr. Gable’s body, on the other hand, was not a lovely job. I just wanted to ask you if you were the one to prepare him. I couldn’t help but notice an unpleasant odor coming from his visitation room as I walked in. As you know, he was supposed to be embalmed to last a week, as the family had to wait for their relatives to fly in and wanted everyone to attend the visiting.”

  Typical, Marla thought.

  Speckleman had been the one who had embalmed Mr. Gable. He never bothered to do a thorough job where embalming was concerned. Marla recalled him once telling her not to bother injecting preservative chemicals down the dead person’s legs because the legs don’t rot. Marla knew this wasn’t true. Anytime she noticed an absence of the chemical’s pink hue visible in the legs, she’d raise the femoral arteries and inject down the legs to be sure they’d been properly embalmed.

  “That was Speckleman,” Marla told Mr. Oswald. “He doesn’t believe in preserving a person’s legs. He never bothers to inject down them.”

  “I see,” her employer responded. “That’s disappointing to hear, especially seeing as he’s supposed to be the manager of this embalming facility. This isn’t the first time this has happened either. I’ll have to have a chat with him about that. I’m almost starting to wonder about putting you in charge of this place.”

  With that, he turned around and walked out of the embalming room, humming a merry tune. “If you need me, I’ll be in the garage,” he said.

  Marla laughed as she heard the man carry on with his humming and singing down the hall. Even when he was upset with an employee, he still maintained a cheerful countenance. She beamed at the thought of being the new personal care manager.

  After wrapping Ms. Dennings in a sheet and ensuring that she was clean and dry, Marla decided she’d earned herself a coffee break. As she walked through the office she was careful not to make too much noise. She could hear Jackie speaking carefully to someone over the phone. Her voice was soft and soothing. Marla wondered if it was Reggie’s family calling to schedule a day to come in and talk about service options.

  Marla was quick to ask the minute Jackie put the phone down. “Reggie’s family?”

  Jackie shook her head. She had a frazzled look on her face. “Worse,” she said, “another call.” She sagged comically in the office chair. “They’re dropping like flies.” She gave Marla a weary look. “I’m getting too old for this.”

  It did often seem like once one or two people died, they all died. If a grim reaper existed, he probably decided to collect souls in bunches. That would explain the quiet spells at funeral homes that were followed by sudden chaos.

  To cheer Jackie up, Marla told her about the body that Speckleman had poorly embalmed. Jackie immediately perked up.

  “I knew I smelled something funky when I walked in today,” she declared. “You’re telling me it’s Mr. Gable? Speckleman needs to get his act together!”

  “That’s not all,” Marla continued, “Mr. Oswald said he was wondering about putting me in charge instead of Speckleman.”

  “Shut up?! Really?” Jackie cried. “Let me know when Mr. Oswald breaks the news to Speckleman. Because I want to see the look on his arrogant face when he learns he’s being demoted.”

  “When he inevitably does, I think I’ll claim the World’s Greatest Embalmer mug for myself,” Marla said. “Can you imagine how he would react seeing me sitting at the table drinking from that mug?”

  “I will be getting that on video when it happens,” Jackie replied.

  Curious to see how badly Mr. Gable had been embalmed, Marla and Jackie peered into the visitation room where he was resting. Sure enough, the pungent odor was present. It smelled as though a group of people simultaneously had passed gas.

  Marla wrinkled her nose. “I hope he doesn’t look as bad as he smells,” she said. She inched closer to his open casket to take a look. She could see the mottling of decay settling into his skin. The areas around his nose, eyes, and mouth were especially dark due to dehydration.

  “Looks like he’s going to need a lot of makeup, and coffee grounds to mask the smell,” Marla concluded. “He didn’t even bother to put massage cream on the man’s face. No wonder it's dehydrating!”

  Jackie joined her at the front of the room. She nodded in agreement when she saw the state of Mr. Gable. “Whatever you do, let Speckleman deal with it. He was the one who messed up in the first place. I say we break for lunch. That is, if you still have an appetite after catching a whiff of this odor!”

  It became clear to Marla when s
he was sitting at the table in the lounge that Mr. Oswald had spoken to Speckleman. The man wore a cantankerous look on his face. He helped himself to the coffee pot, his eyebrows tightly knitted together. Marla avoided his gaze. Instead, she focused on Dane’s business card, wondering whether it would be appropriate to call him.

  At one point she fumbled with it. The card fluttered to the floor, where Speckleman stooped to pick it up. As he gazed at the square of cardstock, a mischievous look formed on his face.

  “Um, could you maybe give that back to me now?” Marla asked.

  He returned the card to her. She noticed him then rush to his desk and scribble something onto a notepad. Marla had a funny feeling he was up to something.

  What a weirdo, she thought.

  ***

  Marla couldn’t get Dane off of her mind. She felt like a foolish high school girl with a crush as she debated calling him. So long as she called him under the pretense that she had information, he wouldn’t see it as unprofessional. But did she have valuable information?

  Marla didn’t want Dane to feel as though she was wasting his time. Still, if she didn’t take a chance and call him, she might never have another opportunity. For the most part, Marla had lived alone. She’d recently been able to afford the rent for the beautiful condo she occupied. A gorgeous home meant little to her if she had no one with whom she could share it.

  Given that Marla had the next two days off, it would be a shame if she had to spend her free time alone. Although she was a fairly introverted person and enjoyed her alone time, she got bored easily.

  “Damn it all anyway!” she muttered to herself. She’d spent the last hour sitting on the couch in her living room staring at her phone. It was time for her to act. Her stomach was filled with butterflies as she dialed the number.

  The phone trilled for some time. Just as Marla was beginning to feel relief in knowing Dane wasn’t at his desk, she heard his voice.

  “This is Detective Read,” he answered.

  Marla hesitated. She cursed herself for not preparing something to say. “Uh, hi. This is Marla. We met at the murder scene the other night.”

  God, that sounds horrible! she thought. If I ever have children with this man I might have to lie to them about how I met their daddy.

  “Hi, Marla. Do you have something you’d like to tell me relevant to the case?”

  “I do,” she responded.

  “Okay. Well, perhaps I could schedule a time for you to come into the station and −“

  “I was hoping you could meet me somewhere,” Marla blurted out.

  Silence followed the interruption. It was within this time that Marla wanted to bang her phone against her head.

  “Is there a certain reason you’d like to meet somewhere other than the station?” Dane asked.

  Marla answered the question in her head. Duh, because I want to seduce you!

  What she said was, “I was actually kind of hoping you’d accompany me somewhere as a friend. I swear I have information for you. You’re new to town. Let’s meet at Orville’s Grill. Do you know it?”

  “Erm…” Dane sounded taken aback by her request. Marla wondered if he knew she was interested in him.

  How can he not know after this?!

  She gritted her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut in anticipation of a response. Having prepared herself for a prominent ‘No,’ she found herself pleasantly surprised by his reply.

  “I suppose that would be alright.”

  “Great! How does tomorrow evening at seven sound?”

  “Uh, sure. That works. I’ll meet you out front.”

  The minute Dane hung up, Marla began her victory dance. She soon stopped celebrating when she realized she still didn’t know whether Dane liked her. Although he’d agreed to meet her, he’d sounded uneasy. What if he arrived at the restaurant and appeared uncomfortable the entire time? Maybe he only was humoring her invitation because he figured entertaining a pathetic, lonely mortician for a few hours could be worth the intel.

  Marla walked into her bathroom and studied her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes traced over her features as she pondered if she was attractive enough for Dane. She knew she was good-looking but was she Dane’s type? What was Dane’s type anyway?

  “Let’s hope his type is sexy undertakers,” she said to her reflection.

  Chapter 5

  One of Marla’s favorite things about the summer was the long days. Despite it being six in the evening, the sun was still out and the weather was warm. Because it had been such a lovely day, Marla had spent it outside, hiking along a path through a forest that she considered captivating. It was wise to take advantage of the nice weather as Wallsberg wasn’t known for it.

  The town was a place of extreme temperatures. The winters were bitterly cold and the summers were stifling. Fall tended to remain hot, while spring just brought torrential downpours.

  Marla had walked along this hiking trail many times before. Never had she grown tired of the trees or their imperfections. It was the bulges and twists in the trunks and roots that made the forest so interesting. That, and the works of art hidden about the place.

  Marla never had seen anyone painting anything there before, but their art was displayed throughout the trail. Stumps were turned into watermelons and smiley faces, and stones were painted with a variety of colors and patterns. Additionally, the wooden fences and bridges often contained spray-painted messages. Once Marla spotted a melancholic piece of writing that read: ‘everything dies; even the stars eventually burn out.’ As sad a message as it was, it was thought-provoking. The forest was a place where Marla went to relax and escape the worries of everyday life.

  Now Marla was back in her condo and worrying over her ‘date’ with Dane. What would she wear? As much as Marla wanted to throw on her skin-tight sequin cocktail dress that made her feel like the sexiest woman alive, she had a feeling it would make her stand out at a grill house. She had to keep things casual but also look like a babe. She planned to capture Dane’s heart without appearing too obvious.

  Numerous outfit changes later, Marla settled on a silky top with skinny straps and a short skirt that showed off just the right amount of leg. She lightly applied makeup around her eyes and eyelashes and admired herself in the mirror.

  I’d hit it, she thought confidently. Time to slay some booty!

  She left her condo feeling like every man’s dream girl. Still, her excitement to see Dane was also nervous energy. Marla knew she often spoke without a filter. She was a down-to-earth kind of person who appreciated honesty over white lies. But there was always a time when it was better to lie or respond with honesty that didn’t sting. Marla still was figuring this out.

  Once she pulled into the parking lot in front of the restaurant, Marla surveyed the area in search of Dane. She didn’t know what kind of car he drove, so the only way she’d find him was if she recognized him.

  Maybe he’s already inside, she wondered after failing to see Dane.

  Her stomach flipped as she entered the grill. A thought suddenly had occurred to her: ‘What if Dane stood her up?’ It would be embarrassing to request a table for two only to wait hopelessly by herself.

  As expected, the place was busy. Orville’s Grill was one of the most popular restaurants in town, especially on a summer evening. Marla typically avoided areas with lots of people, as crowds made her anxious. But, she knew from experience that the only way to lessen her anxiety was to face it head-on.

  One of the features of Orville’s that made it so appealing was its beautiful patio area around the side and back of the building. It was the perfect place where customers could enjoy their meals beneath the sun. Marla hoped she could get a spot outside.