Colder Than Death

interest I felt compelled to tell her the truth. To give her background, I explained how my father had died and my mother and I moved to Dankworth to stay with my Aunt.

“Lew Henderson was my Aunt’s friend. He gave me the job as a favor because we needed extra income. I tried to get conventional part-time jobs like most kids do, but there was nothing. Then Lew came through. And it was off the books, so we didn’t have to worry about taxes.”

“I like illegal things. My friend Viper works off the books at his Uncle’s heating and cooling company.”

“What kind of name is Viper?”

“A nickname. He likes snakes. Or he used to when he was a kid. His real name’s Lester. But he hates it, so we call him Viper. Wasn’t it creepy being around caskets and bodies?”

“I wasn’t around them. I did odd jobs. Ran errands for the owner and the embalmer. At first I wasn’t sure if I would feel comfortable being in a Funeral Home. And my mother had some concern that, what with my father having just died, I might have some psychological problems about working in a place that would be such a constant reminder to me of death. But, as I said, I never went near the bodies.”

“How’d you decide to be an under… Funeral Director?”

“My father died in a plane crash. I never got to see him in the coffin for a last good-bye. The Funeral Home who handled the burial was incompetent. I found out later that my Dad died of smoke inhalation. He was burned, but not disfigured or unfit for viewing. If a good restoration person had taken care of him, I could’ve seen him one final time.”

“What’s a restoration person?”

“The one who makes people who’ve been ravaged by illness or accidents look presentable in the coffin. So, to answer your question, after working at Henderson’s for almost a year, and after coming to terms with how I never got to see him for a last look… I decided that no one should have to be put in that position. I decided to become a restoration man.”

Quilla moved away and looked at me with surprise. “Is that what you do?”

“No. As I was working at Henderson’s and learning the trade, I realized that I had a better skill. I was good with people. Lew, my boss, said that my talents would be wasted working on bodies, so he groomed me to deal with the public.”

“Cool! I’m not good with people. Except my friends. Do you ever have sex in the coffins?”

“What?” I was taken off guard and embarrassed, but I laughed at her audacity.

“I always wondered that. I mean, have any of your girlfriends ever wanted to do it in a coffin?”

“You ask too many questions for your own good.”

“Know what else about you that’s bizarre? Your name. I saw it on a sign when my mother and I came into your office. Dillard. I mean, I’ve got friends with strange names, but Dillard? I never met anyone called that.”

“My father and grandfather were named Dillard. But the nickname all three of us wound up using was Del. Your name isn’t all that normal either.”

“It’s a made up name. When I was little I liked koala bears. Couldn’t get enough of koala bears. Only I couldn’t pronounce koala. I’d say ‘quilla’ bear. Aunt Brandy started calling me Quilla and then so did everybody.”

“What’s your real name?”

“Anita. Lame, right? I’m gonna legally change it to Quilla in three years, when I hit eighteen. That’s what Aunt Brandy was gonna do. Her real name was Susan, but everybody called her Brandy because when she was a little girl she liked Brandy snaps, but she hated her real name because it was too close to my mother’s. I mean, Suzanne and Susan. What kind of parents would name two daughters so similarly?”

“You must have really loved your Aunt,” I said gently.

A wistful expression crossed Quilla’s face. “She was just so cool.”

“If I heard your mother correctly, you were only six when Brandy disappeared.” She nodded yes. “You two must have crammed a lot together for you to remember her so fondly. Most kids who lose a loved one that young forget.”

“I probably would’ve it if wasn’t for her stuff.”

“Her stuff?”

“My mother was gonna throw all of Aunt Brandy’s things away, after about six months from the time she disappeared. But I begged my Mom to let me keep my Aunt’s private stuff in a big trunk that she had.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“Things she had in her jewelry box. Some books. A diary. I mean, not a diary like some wimpy chick from the Fifties would have. Aunt Brandy was too hip for that. She used regular spiral notebooks, nothing fancy. I mean, she didn’t, like, treasure them. They still have smudges on it from coffee and food stains. She put her feelings and thoughts and junk like that in it. I started reading them and found out that I felt exactly like she did on almost everything. I got to know my Aunt from reading what she wrote more than from the time we spent together. And she had pictures from her trips. She’d just take off and disappear for a couple weeks. That’s why people assumed she ran away. Everybody knew she hated it here. And that she loved to travel. It sort of made sense that she would just pick up and leave. But… ”

“What’s that but about?”

“I have this theory. When you love somebody truly, you have a sixth sense about why they do things. It’s like, you know them so well you know how they think?”

Without realizing it, I must have nodded my head in agreement because Quilla said, “So you loved somebody like that too?”

“Someone a long time ago. In high school.”

“You and your high school sweetheart loved each other that way?”

“It was entirely one way.”

“You loved her and she thought you were doggie-do?”

“Wasn’t that bad. She just didn’t connect with me the way I connected with her. To this day, I haven’t felt that connection with anyone. To her I was just a summer fling.”

“I know the feeling. I was summer-flinged last year. What was her name?”

“Alyssa.”

“What happened to her?”

“She left town. Broke up with me and took off.”

The conversation was starting to upset me. I didn’t want to talk about Alyssa. I never talked about her anymore. I tried not to even let myself think about her. Despite the fact that I hadn’t seen her in nearly fifteen years, I still missed her, thought about her.

“You still feel the same way about her?”

“Could we talk about something else?”

“I’m pushing your buttons, aren’t I?”

“How’d you guess?”

“I do that to people a lot. You must’ve really had it bad for her.”

“First love. It was a long time ago.” I paused for a moment. “I believe we were talking about how your love for your Aunt made you realize something.”

“Oh, yeah. I knew she wouldn’t have left without saying good-bye to me. Maybe not to anyone else. But she would have said something to my face. And she wouldn’t have left her notebooks. They were important to her to take them with her or destroy them.” She raised her right index finger to her left eye, then her right eye, wiping tears from both. “And if she didn’t say good-bye to me she would’ve had a good reason, probably because I’d cry and whine, but she would definitely have sent me a letter once she got where she was going. I used to think that even if she’d been kidnapped she would have found a way to let me know that she was alright, but… ”

Her voice trailed off. “When she was alive I used to wish that Aunt Brandy was my mother. When she was gone, I wished that she was my friend. I miss her. I mean one day she was here and the next day… ” She snapped her fingers. “Gone. Nothing. Six years old and I knew somebody killed her. For the last nine years I’ve been waiting for her body to be discovered — here or ten thousand miles away. I hoped they’d find her in another town so somebody competent would be in charge of solving the case instead of an A-hole like Perry