Colder Than Death

“Are we gonna go through this again? I can’t handle being alone yet.”

“Why do you want to hang out with me anyway? I thought kids hated adults.”

“I do. But not you.”

“Why not?” I was touched and curious.

“Cuz you’re the only one besides me and Gretch who cares about finding out who killed my Aunt. I figured maybe we could do some more talking about possible crime scenarios.”

“Look, like I said before, until I get the funeral arrangements made for the gentleman in the back of this car, I can’t concentrate on anything else. But because you’ve come this far and I’m tired of hearing you whine, I’ll let you stick around.”

“Thanks.”

* * *

Nolan was waiting. He sat on the back steps that led to the rear entrance to the Home. I’d called him and told him I was on my way. I backed the station wagon up to the loading dock where Nolan was now standing.

“I’ll wait here,” said Quilla as she slid down onto the seat, stretching out like she had done at DiGregorio’s. I closed my door and met Nolan as he approached the car with a gurney. Just as we had done hundreds of times before, Nolan and I removed the body from the station wagon.

“Ole Alphonse,” he said as we headed into the Home. “If there’s one person in this town I never thought I’d be working on, it’s him.”

“Do an extra special good job on him.”

“Goes without saying, Del,” said Nolan, nodding affirmatively. “I have a soft spot for Alphonse. He got me into the trade.”

“I didn’t know that. I thought you always worked for Lew.”

He shook his head back and forth almost childishly. “Lew gave me my first job, but Alphonse put the idea in my head about going to embalming school. I owe my career to him. Actually, he tried to lead me into your end of the trade, but Funeral Directing was never interesting for me.”

We arrived at the embalming room. Nolan pushed open the door which we kept locked during viewing hours primarily so people who were here to pay respects wouldn’t accidentally walk inside if they got lost. The Home was large enough and had enough winding hallways to confuse someone and walking into an embalming room, especially if one is in the grieving process, could be unsettling.

“Only thing I ever held against ole Alphonse was the fact that he introduced me to my ex-wife.” Nolan smiled sheepishly and shook his head. “I don’t mean that the way it sounds. It wasn’t like he planned on introducing me to her. It just happened. Patricia’s Uncle had died that morning and they came to make arrangements. Alphonse insisted I sit there. He introduced me as his Assistant. While the Aunt and Alphonse went to the Selection Room to pick out a coffin, I stayed in the office with Patricia. That’s how it started.”

As we slid Alphonse’s body off the gurney and onto the embalming table it dawned on me that I had never heard Nolan bring up his wife. It was almost as if he were telling a story about how another guy met his spouse.

“You’ve never talked to me about your wife before.”

“Never had a reason to,” said Nolan as he began to organize the tools he would use for the embalming. “She was long gone by the time I met you.”

“It’s kind of ironic hearing you bring up a wife. I have a hard time thinking of you as being married.”

He smirked. “I never think of me as being married either. Didn’t even last two years. Actually, it lasted exactly one year and six months to the day, almost to the minute. Things like that happen to me.”

“Like what?”

“Remembering dumb details, like the exact dates of things. I remember things that most people forget. Like I know what I ate for breakfast on my eleventh birthday. Rice Crispies with fresh strawberries with three heeping spoonfuls of sugar. My mother yelled at me. Told me my teeth would fall out because I ate so much sugar. She was right.” He grinned exaggeratedly, baring his teeth, clicking them. “Lost them all. Had false teeth before I was thirty. I remember insignificant things about other people’s lives. I remember how Clint’s breath smelled the day I met him. Like he’d been gargling with Listerine for an hour. He wore a light brown tie with a spot on the lower right hand corner. Hell, Del, I remember the exact time of day you first set foot in here, what you were wearing and the first words you said to me.” He laughed and said, “Is it weird being around dead people all day long?”

“I said that?”

“Yep. And I told you that dead people are more interesting than most living people.”

“I remember you saying that.”

“And I told you that to survive in this game you need to know which side you’re on. Doing what I do or being the people person. You were like ole Alphonse. He liked to schmooze with the bereaved. That was rewarding for him. He always seemed to get a lot out of helping people. That’s how you are too.” He shrugged his shoulders as he reached for a gallon container of what I knew was his personal blend of embalming fluid. “To be honest, being around sad, crying people is the hard part as far as I’m concerned.”

“It’s funny,” said Nolan as he put on his white apron which reminded me of something a butcher would wear. “I’m wondering what my life would’ve been like if I’d never met Alphonse. Thirty odd years ago I was thinking about being either a truck driver or a mailman.” He chuckled. “There goes that memory of mine. I remember taking the civil service test. Got a ninety-two on it.”

I was about to ask him when the body would be ready for viewing when there was a soft knock on the embalming room door. Nolan and I looked curiously at each other. I walked to the door and opened it a couple of inches. Standing there was Clint and beside him was Quilla.

“She was wandering around upstairs,” said Clint. “Claims she was looking for you.”

“I decided that I want to meet Nolan.”

“Everything alright, Del?” asked Clint.

“Fine. I’ll handle it.”

Clint looked at me awkwardly, shrugged his shoulders and walked to the stairs that led to the main floor.

“You’re sure you want to do this?” Quilla nodded yes, then uttered a confident, “Yeah.”

“Hold on,” I said, closing the door. I turned to Nolan. “How can I put this? The body we just had — the girl in the mausoleum? Her niece wants to meet you.”

“Why?” said Nolan, looking quite baffled.

“It’s complicated. Too complicated to explain now. She’s been very attached to her Aunt, actually to her Aunt’s memory. She and I have become friends since the body was ID’d. Because you’re the last person to see the remains…to touch them…in her mind, you had a closeness to her Aunt that no one else had. It’s a spiritual thing. That’s what she says. So she wants to meet you.”

Nolan seemed confused. “Should I do it? Doesn’t make a difference to me, but is it a good thing for her? A healthy thing?”

“I think it might help to give her a sense of closure.”

Nolan shrugged his shoulders, then said, “What am I supposed to say?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think she knows what she’ll say to you. C’mon, let’s go outside.”

Nolan nodded and started towards me, removing the white apron in the process. He cleared his throat, looked at me, raised his eyebrows as if to say, “Let’s get this over with,” gestured for me to open the door and said, “After you.”

I didn’t want Quilla to get even the slightest glimpse into the embalming room, so I opened the door only wide enough for Nolan and myself to step into the hall. When Nolan was out I shut the door. Quilla focused on Nolan from the instant he came through the door. Her green eyes beamed with an aliveness I hadn’t seen in the short time I knew her. Instead of looking at Nolan as the last human being to touch what was left of the physical remains of her beloved Aunt, it struck me that Quilla gazed upon him with a sense of wonder, almost as if she were staring at the person who had saved Brandy Parker’s life, not prepared her body for burial.

“Quilla, this is Mister Fowler,” I said.

In a surprisingly sweet tone, Nolan said, “I’m sorry to make your acquaintance under such sad circumstances. And your name is?” He extended his right hand.