The Corpse Whisperer

by H. R. Boldwood

  “Good to hear from you, my dear,” Sandy said. “You must have read my mind. I was about to call and ask you the same. Since yesterday, we’ve received several reports, three in Germany, two in Argentina, and one here in Sweden. I expect more in the coming days. The sightings are too wide-spread to be coincidence.”

  “What’s happening?” I asked. “Is the virus mutating?”

  “Always in such a hurry, my Allie. You know I don’t have that answer yet. But I’m taking some tissue samples from the zombie that turned up in Gothenburg, about four hours from here. I’ll contact you when I know more. You must call sometime when you simply want to chat, my friend. I love you and I miss you.”

  “Me too, Sandy. Gotta run. Take care, now.” I hung up and turned my thoughts to the rest of the day. Looking back later, I wished that I’d told him I loved him, too. Those were words he deserved to hear.

  Between Kulu and Headbutt my doorbell had become obsolete. Visitors, strangers within fifty yards of my house and tiny, blowing leaves were thoroughly announced, long before they ever reached my porch.

  I opened the front door to find Rico, and a short guy I presumed to be Leo, chatting with Mrs. Nussbaum in my driveway.

  Damn. She was fast for a fossil.

  “I didn’t know you were receiving today, Mrs. Nighthawk,” she said. “Such lovely gentlemen, too.”

  She followed them to my door. “It was pleasure to meet you, Mr. De Palma, and Mr...? I’m sure we see each other again—”

  “Bye-bye, Nonnie,” Rico said, as they stepped inside.

  Nonnie was still talking as he eased the door closed in her face. The short guy eyed me from head-to-toe, like he was picking a hooker for the evening.

  “So, this is the ballbuster?” he asked. “The Allie Nighthawk? You yanking my chain, De Palma? Lay youse fifty-to-one the girls on the shore could take her in five.”

  Even the brain bitch wanted him dead.

  Rico flushed. “Nighthawk meet Leo Abruzzi.”

  Leo elbowed Rico. “A little make-up, the right clothes, she could be a looker. Am I right?” Then the douche-canoe winked at me. “Hey, baby. I’m Leo—the lion.”

  I needed a shower. In less than a minute, I already knew more about Leo Abruzzi than any woman should ever want to know—all 5’6” of him, with his oily black hair and his tailored red silk shirt. He wore a thick gold chain and charcoal-colored slacks that were a size too small. His tiny brown eyes scanned from side-to-side, like he was casing the joint.

  The douche-nozzle. I considered shoving his nose through his brain, but shot him the Allie eye, instead.

  Then it occurred to me the nimrod might think I was flirting, so I turned to Rico and said, “Why don’t you and Mr. Brylcreem wait for me in the car? I’ll be right out.”

  Headbutt and Kulu needed to be fed and I had to lock up. When I finally closed the door, Kulu gave me a long, loud raspberry.

  You can’t buy that kind of love.

  From the time we left my driveway, Leo’s mouth ran like a duck’s ass. He leaned forward in the backseat, his mouth next to the steel-mesh cage.

  “What kind of nightlife you got in this podunk town, anyway? One thing about Leo, he go, go, goes. You stay moving, you make a harder target. Am I right? Every town’s got a strip joint. It’s almost noon, they gotta be open. Seven-sevens, on me. C’mon. What do you say?”

  I turned around and smacked the cage with the palm of my hand. He didn’t take the hint.

  “What’s a matter, baby? You don’t want to share Leo with other women? Leo’s a lot to handle, if you get my drift. Magnum-sized, but hey, I’m willing—”

  “That’s it. Pull over,” I said.

  Rico groaned. “Jesus, Nighthawk. Chill out.”

  Leo never stopped for a breath. “A spitfire! Leo likes a spitfire. Listen, sweetheart—”

  I spun around, pushed my face against the wire mesh, and let my bitch flag fly.

  “Shut the hell up. Either lose the third-person bullshit or lose your head. Your choice. And if you ever call me baby or sweetheart again, I’m going to pull a magnum-sized condom over your cheesy face and turn you into a balloon animal.”

  Leo paused, then glanced at Rico and said, “That was cold, man. You told me she liked that shit.”

  Rico’s eyes sparkled.

  That’s okay, mi amigo. Payback’s a bitch, I thought.

  The sparkle in his eyes faded.

  “What’s up?” I asked.

  “Maybe nothing.” He looked at me and mouthed, “Black Lexus. Four cars back.”

  I shrugged and whispered, “Only one way to find out.”

  Rico took a series of lefts and rights. The Lexus stayed with us, lurking a few cars back, never catching us, but never losing pace. Then, Rico jerked the steering wheel to the left, onto the entrance ramp of I-71S, and hit the gas.

  Leo grabbed the mesh cage to keep from sliding across the back seat. “What the hell, De Palma?”

  “You got any friends that drive a black Lexus, Leo?” Rico asked.

  “Half the damn country drives a black Lexus. How the hell should I know?”

  Then the lightbulb went on and his eyes flew wide open.

  “Ah, shit. Shit. Somebody tailing us?” Leo whipped his head around to look out the back window. “I don’t see no black Lexus. Fucking mob. I knew this grand jury shit would come back to bite me.”

  We were doing eighty-five. Leo was right, the Lexus was nowhere to be seen. Apparently, it hadn’t made the bat-turn onto the expressway. Whoever the tail had been, we’d lost them. At least, for the time being.

  Cap’s admin, Miriam, snarled as she watched us approach through the bullpen. Her hair, knotted tightly in a bun, pulled her eyes toward the sides of her head, making them look like two tiny almonds stuck in pastry dough.

  There wasn’t a smidgeon of dust on her desk. Her stapler and other supplies were turned at ninety-degree angles, flanking her like tiny desktop warriors. Someone was seriously OCD.

  She rounded her desk and planted herself between us and Cap’s office. “I’ll see if he’s in,” she snipped.

  “No need,” I said, flicking over her stapler. “I can see him from here. Hey, Cap!”

  Miriam’s face blanched as she leaned into Cap’s office. “Officer De Palma and that Nighthawk woman have arrived with Mr. Abruzzi.”

  “I can see that, Miriam. Thank you. Have a seat,” he said, motioning us forward.

  Miriam stood at the door, watching us file in. Leo hesitated as he walked by her, then leaned in and nibbled her ear. She recoiled faster than a semi-automatic.

  I gave the door a push, and saw her eyes blaze as it swung closed in her face. Then, I slapped the back of Leo’s head as she scurried back to her desk.

  “Watch the hair. Watch the hair,” he said, slicking it back into place.

  The three of us sat lined up across from Cap’s desk, like rowdy kids reporting to the school principal.

  Cap started with Rico. “I take it Mr. Abruzzi’s financial books were logged into evidence at the FBI office?”

  “Yes, sir. They’re digitized on a thumb drive that’s tagged into evidence. But, before we go any further, you should know that we think we were tailed on our way here. Black Lexus, no plate number. Whoever it was, we lost them.”

  “Is that right? Welcome to the world of a protected witness, Mr. Abruzzi. Keep your eyes open, listen to what I’m about to say, and you just might make it to the grand jury,” Cap said. “Officer De Palma and Ms. Nighthawk will be your primary security detail. They’ll be relieved by Officers Powell and Ortega. You’ll be staying at a safe house in Oakley, about ten miles north of town. There are rules that apply to an individual with protected witness status. You are to tell no one of your whereabouts, Mr. Abruzzi. Not only for your safety, but for that of my officers and Ms. Nighthawk. You will follow their directions, at all times. And you will, without fail, use the alias, David McGee. Am I understood?”

  Leo winked at Cap. �
�Gotcha. No problemo. Leo’s not great with rules, but—”

  I reached over and dug my fingernails into his thigh, to stop the third-person bullshit.

  Leo winced. “I mean, yeah. Sure thing, Cap. I’d never endanger your guys. You got my back, right?” He laughed, then suddenly sucked in a breath and froze.

  His forehead glistened with sweat, and his face grew pale. He clutched the arms of his chair in a death-grip, gouging his fingernails into the wood until they bled. His teeth chattered like one of those wind-up skulls, then they clenched so hard, I thought they’d crack. In a violent spasm, he flew out of the chair and flopped onto the floor, convulsing.

  Cap jumped to his feet. “What the hell’s happening?”

  I looked at Rico. “When’s the last time he had his meds?”

  “Hell, I don’t know.” Rico grabbed his wallet and shoved it between Leo’s teeth. Then, he turned Leo’s pockets inside-out, and found his pre-dosed, capped syringes. “How do we know that’s what’s wrong with him? Do we give him the medicine or call 911?”

  Cap and Rico stared at me, waiting for an answer. I was a freaking corpse whisperer, damn it, not a doctor, not a pharmacist, and not a chemist. On a good day, I was lucky if I had on two shoes that matched. And yet, there I was, once again, making a life-and-death decision, based only on a hunch. For all I knew, the seizure could have been caused by an allergy we knew nothing about. The shot might save him, or it might kill him. But, one way or the other, he’d either go full-on zombie or be flat-out dead, by the time an ambulance arrived. What choice did we have?

  I grabbed one of the syringes and jabbed it into Leo’s thigh.

  He stopped twitching, and in a matter of seconds, lay still on the floor, his eyes open, his breathing almost normal.

  Rico took his wallet out of Leo’s mouth and laid his sport coat over the top of him.

  Leo gave it a couple of minutes and then struggled to sit up. “Am I turning? Is this it?”

  “What time were you supposed to take your medication, Leo?” I asked.

  His voice shimmied. “Same time I take it every day. Noon. Why?”

  I looked at my watch. It was almost one-thirty. He’d missed it by an hour and a half.

  “Leo, didn’t the doctor explain to you how important it is that you take your medicine on time? Every day? If you miss a dose, you run the risk of turning.”

  “Holy shit.” Leo shook his head and mopped his face with his hand. “Yeah. Yeah, they told me. What with flying out here and all this talk about depositions, I didn’t think about it.”

  “Didn’t think about it?” I screamed. “You little fuck-stick! You turned state’s evidence to get that shit. How about taking some responsibility? Keeping yourself alive to honor your end of the bargain? Monitor your own damn meds. Jesus. Do we need to breathe for you, too?”

  “That’s enough, Nighthawk.” Cap helped Leo up off the floor. “You think you’re okay, now? Or do you want to go to the hospital?”

  “I’m fine,” Leo said, his face crimson, like I’d spanked him in front of his classmates. “It won’t happen again.”

  Cap nodded. “Good. I’m glad we’re all on the same page. Now, back to the safe house. De Palma, coordinate with Powell and Ortega—twelve-hour shifts. Electronic clocking. By the book. Tight as a drum. I want the shift changes documented.”

  Twelve-hour shifts?

  My head snapped up. “Cap, I’ve got pets at home. I need to make arrangements for someone to care for them while I’m on detail.”

  I had no idea how I was going to do that. It’s not like I could afford doggy daycare. For crapsake, all three of us were eating dog biscuits. The chicken-flavored ones weren’t so bad, once you got past the smell. But Kulu usually snapped those up.

  “Fine. Whatever you have to do. Just do it. If neither of you have anything else, I think we’re through here.” Cap stood, signaling us to leave. “Oh, Nighthawk, hold on a minute.”

  Leo sighed. “If it’s okay with youse, I gotta use the can.”

  Rico led him out of the room, shutting the door behind them.

  “Did you get hold of Latka?” Cap asked. “What’s the story on the daytime deadheads?”

  “Yes, sir. There’ve been a few scattered reports of sightings, worldwide. One of the biters wasn’t too far from Stockholm. Latka’s doing some tissue testing. He’ll get back to me when he knows more.”

  “Keep me updated,” Cap said, turning to a file on his desk.

  I opened the door, and almost fell over a twitchy little janitor named Ottis. I’d seen him around, and had taken to calling him The Squirrel because he had small, pinched features and he scurried when he moved. He’d been bent over, sweeping nuts or something into a dust pan, and bolted upright when the door opened.

  A smile jittered across his face, as he stepped aside to let me pass. The guy made my skin crawl—and I dealt with deadheads.

  I caught up with the guys back at Rico’s car. Rico opened the rear passenger-side door to let Leo in, and casually tossed out the only plausible solution to my pet-sitting problem. Even if it did make me want to shove a needle into my eye.

  “Why don’t you ask that nosy neighbor of yours to watch Headbutt and Kulu?”

  Leo snorted. “Headbutt and Kulu? What the hell kind of names are those? What’s wrong with Spot and Max?”

  He stooped to clear the roof as he climbed into the car, and I gave him a shove. “Shut up, David.”

  Damn it. Rico was right. Mrs. Nussbaum was my only choice.

  When we pulled into my driveway, Mrs. Nussbaum burst through her front door, and swooped in on us, like a turkey vulture. I’d rather have done anything than ask her for help. At least she wasn’t carrying her broom.

  “Mrs. Nighthawk, you and your friends are back! How nice. Come. Come have some rugelach. Not the dry kind tastes like sand. My kind, with the chocolate and cream cheese and apricot jam. Come. I bake all day. Just for you.”

  I’ve known this woman my entire life. She’d never baked anything for me or my father. Not even the things that tasted like sand. She must have the hots for Rico. God knows, it couldn’t be Leo. Nonnie and her hormones were going to have to chill.

  Wow. Nonnie and hormones in the same sentence. Disturbing.

  I needed to get Leo inside, out of sight, somewhere that I could protect him. For the moment, that was my house.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Nussbaum, but we’ll have to pass. David’s tired after his long day of travel.”

  She looked like I’d just peed on her rosebushes. And I still needed to ask for her help. Shit.

  “If anyone cares,” mumbled Leo, “I vote for the chocolate cream cheese things. Just sayin’.”

  “It was so nice of you to think of us, Mrs. Nussbaum,” I said. “Maybe you could bring the rugu…the stuff you fixed…here, to my house. We can eat them inside while David rests. Would that work?”

  “Yes. Yes, of course. I bring milk, too. Very good with milk.”

  I kept Rico and Leo behind me when we walked inside the house, making sure no one got bit or pooped on. Headbutt glanced up from his throne on the floor vent. Seeing me calm and unconcerned, he promptly closed his eyes. Kulu, however, kept her distance, mumbling curse words and shaking her wings, clearly more concerned about stranger danger.

  My house, an old Cape Cod, was small but cozy. I didn’t have an eye for decorating. The worn, early-American furniture might have been a good clue. The place was quiet, but if it ever caught on fire, the neighborhood would be toast. The basement and spare bedroom were packed with napalm and small arms ammo.

  Mrs. Nussbaum appeared at the backdoor, rugelach in hand.

  Headbutt scrambled to his feet and farted, then began barking non-stop.

  Kulu spread her wings and paced back-and-forth on her perch, screaming “Crazy bitch! Crazy bitch!”

  I threw my shoe at Kulu, intentionally missing her by a mile.

  “Allie’s mad. Allie’s mad,” she muttered, sulking on her pe
rch.

  It took a while for me to get Headbutt settled. He kept a bloodshot eye on Mrs. Nussbaum and woofed periodically, reminding everyone that he was ready for action.

  At last, the menagerie quieted and the party commenced. We ate. We drank. We laughed. I gagged when I realized Nonnie was interested in Leo, and nearly puked when I caught him winking back at her. The hound.

  I couldn’t put it off any longer. “Mrs. Nussbaum. We’ve had such a lovely evening. Maybe we can be friends, not just neighbors. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

  Her smile froze.

  “I have to ask you something—a favor. I need your help.”

  “What you want?” she asked, giving me the hairy eyeball.

  “I need you to watch Headbutt and Kulu for me.”

  She grabbed her chest, and looked at me like I’d asked her for a kidney.

  “Just for a little while,” I pleaded. “My work schedule changed. I have to leave now for my shift. Can you watch them for me, for the next twelve hours? And maybe…every day, until my schedule changes back?”

  “When that?”

  “As soon as humanly possible.”

  Nonnie whined. “The dog, it farts and pees on my roses. And the bird is very scary.”

  “Headbutt needs manners, right? Maybe you could teach him manners. You could feed Kulu some treats and teach her some nice words.”

  “This, I could do.” She smiled shyly at Leo. “I stay here with your friend, David, while you working and watch them.”

  “David has to go to work with me, but you’re welcome to watch them here or at your house. Your choice.”

  “Here,” she sighed. “No peeing and pooping my house.”

  Headbutt and Kulu stared in silence as I grabbed the keys to my Harley.

  “You be good,” I said, pointing at them. “C’mon, Rico, David. Time for work.”