(2012) Colder Than Death (30 page)

But I'd been in the ground too long. The air was gone, the dirt was too heavy and even though it was less than three feet from the surface of the grave, it was too far to go. So I stayed there, giving up, knowing this was it, feeling horrible that I couldn't do anything to help Quilla, feeling somewhat relieved to know what had happened to Alyssa, but nauseated at the way she had died. My thoughts turned to Gretchen. She would go on searching for the mother who had indeed been killed twenty-four years ago. I quickly calculated in my head that Gretchen's house in Croybridge was about a ten minute drive from Nolan's.

I closed my eyes. I felt myself blacking out. Alyssa's face flashed before my eyes for a moment, then Gretchen's. As I lay dying, my last thought was of Gretchen and what might have been. Once again I had only the promise to hold on to. Then I heard a muffled voice and the unmistakable sound of dirt being moved.

“I'm coming!” said the voice, which I couldn't place. “I'm coming!”

Suddenly I felt a slight wisp of air on my face. I breathed in. Then another. I breathed in again. Then another and another and another and the voice became clearer and I was able to recognize it.

Chapter 26

“You okay, Mr. Coltrane?” said Viper as he reached his hand into the grave and pulled me out.

“You look like shit,” said another voice that I placed instantly. It was Greg Hoxey. He was holding a flashlight, aiming the beam at me. I fell to the ground, breathing furiously. I couldn't get enough air. In-between breaths I managed to say to Greg, “How did you get here?”

“Viper called me.” Green dental floss dangled from the right corner of his mouth.

I looked at Viper. He shrugged and said, “I know you told me to call Perry Cobb, but he scares me and I trust Greg, so I called him. I hope that was okay.”

I turned to Greg. “It's Nolan.”

“What's Nolan?”

“He killed Brandy Parker and seven other women. And he's got Quilla. He's gonna kill her next. She’s in the house. The attic.”

Greg turned to Viper and said, “You help Del. I'll handle Nolan.” Viper nodded and Greg ran about ten yards.

“Wait!” I said. He stopped. “Nolan's got a gun.”

“So do I,” said Greg, then took off again for the house. Viper took me by the arm and with great effort guided me up the incline of the gully as we started back to the house.

“How did you find me?”

“I got scared being in the Funeral Parlor alone. You said you were going to Mr. Fowler's, so I figured that I'd hook up with you here. When I got here and I couldn't see your car. I figured I had the wrong house so I walked over to a couple other houses and I saw your car and figured you parked it there for a reason, then while I was coming back to Mr. Fowler's house to look for you I saw his car pull in his yard. The next thing I know you're coming outta his house and he's pointing a gun at you, so I kept following. I watched him make you dig the hole. I remembered Quilla saying you had a cellular phone in your car, so I got it and called Greg.”

“You saved my life, Viper. I owe you, man.”

“Thanks. Think Greg'll be able to handle Mr. Fowler alright?”

I was about to say, “I don't know” when a shot rang out from inside Nolan's house. Viper and I looked at each other. Then another shot cut through the night air. Working on adrenaline I stumbled as fast as I could to the house. Viper wanted to go in. I told him not to, then said, “Call 911. It'll hook you up with the dispatcher at the police station. He'll call Perry.”

Viper took off. I sat down on the grass in the dark, wondering who had fired the shots, hoping that Greg would either be leading Nolan outside at gunpoint or coming by himself with the news that Nolan had been shot. By now my breathing was back to normal, but my body ached with excruciating pain and cold numbness. I brushed away the clumps of dirt clinging to my clothes and face. As I was doing so I heard a grunting noise coming from the house. I slid a few feet further away from the rear door, trying to get totally out of sight. Within a few seconds Nolan came out of the house, carrying Greg's lifeless body on his shoulder. Without hesitation he headed back towards the gully, no doubt to bury Greg alongside me. Nolan was walking at a steady pace, considering that a hundred and fifty pound man was on his shoulder. When he arrived at my grave he would go ballistic. To save Quilla and myself I would have to go in the house, get her and hope that Viper had reached Perry.

Again, reeling in all my strength, I stood up and dragged myself into the house, up the stairs and into the room with the bodies. Quilla was still asleep. I wondered what kind of drug he'd given her. I untied the leather straps and tried to pick her up. Under normal conditions she would have been light, but in my battered state it was like lifting five hundred pounds. I would have to drag her out and down the stairs, which I proceeded to do.

Things went smoothly until we got to the back door. Just as I was about to open it I saw Nolan running across his back yard towards the house. He had discovered that I'd gotten out of the grave. I thought about dragging Quilla back through the house and out the front door, but I knew I wouldn't have the energy. So I decided to go down into the basement and hide until the police arrived.

As gently as I could, I dragged Quilla down the basement stairs, past Nolan's workshop and into the utility room. We hid in the corner by the washer and dryer. We waited.

Nolan yanked open the back door and ran inside and up the stairs to the second floor. The house was so old and creaky it was easy to hear the pounding of his footsteps even though we were in the basement. Within seconds, I heard them pounding
down
the stairs, stopping, probably to look in a room or behind something, then starting again.

I was beginning to wonder if coming down to the basement was a bad idea, but I had no choice. I was exhausted. It was the only place left to go. Overhead I could hear Nolan's footsteps as he walked towards the basement. Then came the sound of his shoes walking tentatively down the basement steps. I knew he knew I was down here. I placed the sleeping Quilla as far behind the washer as possible, then covered her with a dirty towel I grabbed from a pile of laundry.

“Del, I know you're here,” he said. “I don't know how you got out, but that's not important now. What's important is that we bring this to an end. You have to die. And the girl has to die. The only difference is that she has a chance to avoid extinction... like all my other girls. She may not be alive forever, but she can be here on earth... forever young, forever beautiful.”

Suddenly, Quilla moaned. It wasn't so much the sound of a person waking up, but the gentle noise of someone tossing in her sleep. But it was loud enough for Nolan to know that she was in here. And if she was in here, he knew I was too.

In a second, Nolan was standing in the utility room. He flipped on the light and saw me crouched in the corner. I was sure he didn't see Quilla tucked behind the washer.

“Where is she?” he snapped.

I looked over at Nolan's makeshift embalming room. For some reason, I said, “In there.”

“She better be.” He waived the gun and gestured for me to go into the embalming room first. I did. He came in a few steps behind me. “
Where
?” he said.

“Perry is on his way here right now. You've already killed Greg. Perry'll find the women. It's over. To kill me or Quilla is unnecessary. Even if you did, this sad, maudlin world you've made for yourself will end. If you let us go...maybe...I mean, I don't know the law...but maybe you can plead insanity and...”

“Where's the girl, Del!?! I want to work on her. She'll be the youngest yet. She has wonderful skin. It'll be my biggest challenge ever.”

“Nolan, we've known each other for so many years.”

“She'll be the last one. I promise. I'm an artist. I...”

Quilla moaned again. Nolan turned around in the direction of the washer and dryer. I decided to take a chance and go for his gun. I don't know where my strength came from, but I leaped at him, knocking him over, causing the gun to tumble from his hand. Nolan fell on top of me, his fists flying wildly. I knocked him over. He scrambled towards the gun which was setting in a corner next to a container of formaldehyde. As Nolan crawled along the floor towards the gun, I stood up and frantically looked around the room for a weapon. Normally an embalmer has plenty of tools lying around, many with sharp edges, but here Nolan didn't use his skills on a daily basis, so there was nothing at hand.

But then I saw the one thing I could use hanging from a hook on the wall. The trocar. As I grabbed it off the hook I looked at the eight-inch needle. It was used strictly on dead people, but I knew it was capable of making someone dead too.

As Nolan grabbed the gun, he spun around and prepared to fire. I was too tired to raise the trocar over my head like a spear, so with it firmly in my right hand I rushed towards Nolan, sticking the needle in his chest. He winced in pain, fell against the embalming table, lowered the gun for an instant, then raised it and with an unsteady hand pointed it at me. He seemed ready to fall over. Without thinking, I yanked the trocar out of his chest and shoved it in him again, this time in the stomach. He cried out, then dropped the gun and grabbed me. We were almost face to face.

“Del,” he said lightly, as the life ebbed out of him. “I don't expect your forgiveness.”

“You won't get it.”

“I'm not entitled to it. But there's one thing I
am
entitled to. A proper burial. I deserve one. Wilt will work on my corpse. I want a big funeral. The works. Mahogany coffin. No expense spared. There's a box of money in the closet up with the girls, probably fifteen thousand. Whatever's left give to Wilt. Bury me in my family plot at Elm Cross. The name is Oberfuolner.” He coughed. “And Del... maybe some day you'll find it in your heart to put some flowers on my grave.”

He closed his eyes for a moment. His breathing was weak. I stared coldly at him as his eyes opened and said, “Don’t count on it.”

Epilogue

There was a memorial service for Alyssa, Virginia Thistle, Patricia Fowler, the two other girls in the attic, as well as the two girls buried in the gully. They all were re-buried at Elm Grove except Alyssa. Her mother lived in California and had the body sent there.

I arranged for Tyler to handle everything. Gretchen picked a plot for her mother under a spruce tree on a hill overlooking one of the two duck ponds in Elm Grove.

Perry tried to communicate to his father that the Virginia Thistle case had been solved, but he wasn't sure if Chester had absorbed the information or not. Nolan only wounded Greg. He was considered a hero and was given a commendation by the Mayor of Dankworth. The excitement of the case motivated him to apply for a job with a big city police department. He has applications in to Youngstown, Cleveland and Dayton.

I promised Viper a job after he graduated from college. He's already doing odd jobs at the Home. After Nolan's death I was concerned about replacing him, but the problem solved itself because Clint decided that an embalmer/restoration man had far better hours than a Funeral Director, so with Cookie's blessing he took the position.

Quilla has become something of a surrogate daughter for me. She comes around and we chat. She does most of the talking. I listen. Give her advice. I enjoy it.

Gretchen took the discovery of the bodies the hardest. Because she'd spent so long believing her mother was still alive, the truth was nearly incomprehensible for her. She demanded from the District Attorney that he initiate proceedings to clear Kyle Thistle's name in the murder of his wife.

Gretchen and I started going out. She has been trying to get me to reexamine my motives for being a Funeral Director. She thinks that, though it's a necessary service, it's a negative and personally non-productive way for me to make money. She says she isn't sure if she could be seriously involved with someone who's life is so totally wrapped up in death. I know I have solid people skills. I'm giving what Gretchen said serious consideration, checking into careers in which I could utilize what I've learned as a Funeral Director.

In the meantime, I still have to earn a living.

The phone in the Counseling Room is ringing. Someone has died or is about to. I have to answer it.

“Henderson's Funeral Home. May I help you?”

The End

D.B. Gilles is the author of
I Hate My Book Club,
a comic novel about a dysfunctional book club. His non-fiction includes
The Screenwriter Within, 2nd Edition, The Portable Film School
and
You’re Funny! Turn Your Sense of Humor Into A Lucrative New Career.
Also a playwright, he has written numerous plays, most notably
Men’s
Singles, The Girl Who Loved The Beatles, Sparkling Object
and
Inadmissible
. He writes the screenwriting blog Screenwriters Rehab: For Screenwriters Who Can’t Get Their
Acts
Together. He is a member of The Writers Guild of America and The Dramatists Guild.

Check out other books by D.B. Gilles at:

http://dbgillesbooks.blogspot.com/

Contact D.B. Gilles directly at:
[email protected]

Follow D.B. on Twitter:
@dbgilles