After Midnight

“What?” I asked.

He shook his head and continued to chew. Then he ran the faucet, leaned forward and cupped water into his mouth like before. When the faucet was off, he stood up straight. He wiped his mouth. Then he turned around to face me. “I thought you didn’t want me to talk about Judy.”

“Yeah. You’re right. I don’t. Never mind.”

“Anyway, I didn’t rape her.”

“But you said…”

“I said we fucked. I didn’t say anything about rape. A rape requires force or coercion. She was quite willing. After all, I’d cut her down. You should’ve cut her down. Maybe you would’ve gotten lucky.”

“Okay, that’s enough. Let’s go find Elroy. You lead the way.”

Holding the end of the cord in one hand, the saber in the other, I followed Steve out of the kitchen. The rest of the house was pretty dark. As we walked through the foyer, I switched a light on.

“How long have you been here today?” I asked.

“Oh, I arrived around noon. Hoping to find you sunning yourself by the pool like yesterday. I was severely disappointed.”

“How did you get in?”

“Sliding doors are a cinch.”

He turned to the left and stepped into the guest bathroom. Now that he was no longer blocking my view, I saw a trail of blood drops on the hallway carpet. Steve must’ve made them carrying Elroy’s head from the bathroom to the den. The trail was sure to continue on through the den.

Entering the bathroom, I said, “Nice job on the carpet.” And then I saw the mess near the toilet. “Oh, my God.”

Steve grinned and shrugged. “What can I say? He made a nice splatter pattern. Could’ve been a lot worse, though. At least he fell into the tub.”

I walked closer to Steve, sidestepped to see past him, and spotted Elroy in the bathtub.

My memory flashed an image of Murphy, also dead in a tub. Rub-a-dub dub, two men in a tub…

Unlike Murphy, Elroy had his clothes on. And he wasn’t sitting sideways in the tub, feet sticking out. He probably had been crooked, since he’d fallen from a standing position in front of the toilet. But now he was stretched out on his back, feet toward the drain. His penis was hanging out the open fly of his trousers. His blood-soaked shirt was still tucked in, and his bow-tie, no longer blue, was still in place at the throat of his shirt. Above the bow-tie, he had a ragged stump of neck.

“You want me to pick him up?” Steve asked.

“That’s the idea.”

“And do what with him?”

“Get him out of the house, for starters.”

“He’s bound to drip, you know.”

“Run the shower on him,” I said. “That’ll get the worst of the blood off.”

“Aye-aye, ma’am.” Steve stepped to the foot of the tub, started the shower spraying down onto Elroy, then slid the plastic curtain shut.

“We need something to put him in,” I said.

“A couple of plastic garbage bags should do the trick.”

“Those’d be out in the garage.”

“No problem.”

“Yeah, it’s a problem,” I said. “I’m not taking you all the way out there just to get some garbage bags.”

“Afraid I’ll make a break for it?”

“Something like that.”

“Well, we could get a sandwich baggie from the kitchen and put it on his stump.”

“Very funny,” I said. But his suggestion made me realize that, if the shower did its job, we really didn’t need to worry about blood from anywhere except Elroy’s neck.

So we marched back to the kitchen. I instructed Steve where to look, and he found Serena’s roll of cellophane wrap in the cupboard underneath the sink.

We returned to the bathroom.

While I held the saber and my end of the cord, Steve shut off the shower. He slid open the curtain, stepped into the tub, and got to work on Elroy.

First, he raised the body to a sitting position. Then he removed Elroy’s bow-tie and opened the top two buttons of his shirt. After that, he tore off a foot-long section of plastic wrap and draped it over Elroy’s neck stump. He squeezed it down firmly so it clung to the raw stuff inside. Finally, he tucked the edges of the cellophane underneath Elroy’s shirt collar to hold the wrapping snug.

“That should do the trick,” he said.

“I think so,” I agreed.

The shower had done a fine job cleaning the blood off Elroy and his clothes. The white shirt was badly stained, but it wouldn’t be dripping blood on the way out. With the neck stump secure, he was ready to move.

“Okay,” I said. “Now pick him up and let’s get him out of the house.”

Steve looked at me and raised his eyebrows. “Are you going to lend a hand?”

“No.”

“But you’re so good at body handling.”

“I’ve retired,” I said. “You killed him, you carry him.”

“What a sweetheart.”

“That’s me. Let’s get going.”

Squatting behind Elroy’s back, he reached beneath the arms, hugged him around the chest, and lifted.

As Steve hauled Elroy out of the tub, I backed away, giving him plenty of slack with the electric cord. Then I waited while he struggled to find the best way to carry the body. He ended up cradling Elroy in his arms the way you see guys carry their brides over the threshold in movies.

“Ready?” I asked.

“All set,” he said. “You ready, Elroy?”

“Cut out the funny stuff,” I said. “He was a nice guy.”

“Give me a break. He was a pain in the ass. You couldn’t stand him.”

“Maybe so, but you shouldn’t have killed him.”

Smirking, he said, “You made me do it. I would chop the heads off an army to get my hands on you.”

“Go to hell,” I said.

Then I led us out of the bathroom. “We’ll take him out the front door,” I said, turning and moving backward for the foyer. As I walked, I watched Elroy. He dripped onto the carpet, but only water—so far as I could tell. The cellophane on his neck seemed to be working fine. “We’ll put him in his car and drive him to the woods.”

“Now, that’s a good idea. I was afraid you might make me walk.”

“Can’t leave his car here, anyway. We’ll park it at the picnic area, and you can carry him the rest of the way to the camp.”

I opened the front door, glanced outside to make sure the coast was clear, then stepped out of the way. Turning sideways, Steve carried Elroy past me. I left the door open (since I had no keys on me) and followed them across the lawn to the driveway.

“You’d better put him in the trunk,” I said.

Nodding, Steve trudged to the rear of Elroy’s car. “How do we unlock it?” he asked.

“Use his keys,” I suggested. “They’re probably in a pocket of his pants.”

“How about coming over here and finding them for me?”

“Thanks, but no thanks. Do I look that stupid?”

“I won’t try anything,” he said.

“I’m sure I believe you. Just put him down and get the keys yourself.”