All in the Family by Taft Sowder Page A

before he had to move on to something else, and though Frank had good taste, he knew that he had taken most of the good meat from the body when he made the stew. Thus, he knew there was only one real solution to his dilemma. He would have to bring the bodies to the crematory in the cover of night. He could easily burn the remains and crush the bone and simply mix the bone fragments with the remains of the other deceased.
    First, focus, he told himself, the boy comes first and then take care of your own previous carelessness.
    He parked in the rear lot and backed the hearse to the double doors. He unloaded the body quickly and quietly as he would any other corpse. He moved the body to an examination table, and just as he was about to begin his would be examination autopsy, he was greeted by a rapping on the rear doors. Then the buzzer sounded.
    Anger rushed over him, and he had to restrain himself from throwing his tools across the room. He knew his sanity slipped further with every passing moment, and he knew that he had to get some control.
    On the other side of the door a man waited. He was stocky built, but short, his hair a salt and pepper gray. He thumbed the buzzer button. He was also an impatient man. His name was Tyler Sparks.
    Herman opened the door; he gave the short man a cock-eyed look and then saw his laminated badge on his chest. His expression immediately changed, and he greeted the man with an open hand. Tyler hesitated and then gripped his hand.
    “Good morning, sir. I’m Tyler Sparks. I’m the state appointed inspector.” He flipped his badge. “I’m also a certified undertaker and in charge of the autopsy from here on in.”
    Herman cleared his throat and flung an open hand toward the exam table. “Come on in.”
    * * * *
    Jessica walked into the dining room. Her mother sitting at the far end of the table, looked up and smiled; a pile of letters and junk mail lay scattered in front of her. This was the mail from Friday and Saturday. She had failed to check the box.
    The smile on her mother’s face faded into a scowl as she looked at one letter. She flipped the letter over and ripped the back of the envelope open. She covered her mouth with her hand and tears filled her eyes.
    “Mom? Mom? What’s wrong?”
    “N ... Nothing, darling, just go in the other room, please?” Jessica left the room and Loretta wept quietly. A manicured hand wiped the tears from her cheeks. She laid the letter on the table and got herself a drink.
    The letter inside was a typed memorandum from the state prison. The bland and insensitive language of the letter told her that her brother Roy Lawrence had recently been released from prison. That wasn’t a good thing.
    Below the ripped envelope was another envelope. Roy’s chicken-scratch handwriting was on the cover. He spelled her name wrong. He always spelled her name wrong. It was a bad sign, a bad omen. She knew what he was writing for; she knew he would need a place to stay.
    * * * *
    Herman stepped outside, the cool autumn air felt good against his sweat beaded skin. He wiped the sweat from his brow. His nerves were on end. When he finally felt that he couldn’t make it any longer with that guy in his workspace, Tyler Sparks had decided to confirm that the death had been accidental. He assumed that the boy had been playing near the train tracks and fell off the cliff. If he had survived the fall, he had drowned in the lazy river below. The river had carried his body to where it had been deposited and then found by the hikers.
    That was what Tyler had dictated to him as he examined the body and filled out his report. The man left only moments earlier to go file his report. Herman didn’t smoke, but he would have lit one up right now if he had one. Now the fact had been reiterated. Caution was now the priority.
    He locked the door and walked to the hearse. It was cold out, the chill that had once felt good now ran up his spine, goose pimples blistering up on his arms.