D. Gilles - Colder Than Death

“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.

“Quilla.” She shook Nolan’s hand. As she did so she gazed mysteriously at Nolan’s hand saying, “Did you touch my Aunt’s body?”

Nolan glanced quickly at me, then back at Quilla. “Yes.”

“With both hands?”

“Yes.”

“With your bare hands?”

“I wear gloves.”

“Could I hold your other hand?”

Again, Nolan shot me a fast glance, then looked back at Quilla. “I, uh, guess so.” He extended his left hand. Quilla took it into her own left hand, then she closed her eyes, almost as if she were in a trance.

Again, Nolan looked at me, arching his eyebrows and looking bemused. I shrugged my shoulders, equally perplexed. I watched Quilla hold Nolan’s hands. She seemed to be alternately squeezing and tugging at his fingers, as if she were trying to pull some kind of vibe or life from them. Quilla opened her eyes after about fifteen seconds. She was trying to hold back tears.

“I can feel her presence,” she said happily, smiling broadly. Then she abruptly released Nolan’s hands and grabbed him around the waist, hugging him.

Nolan again looked at me, his eyes bulging, mouth open. He raised his arms from his sides, unsure of what he was supposed to do, not that I blame him. Quilla’s sudden outburst of physicality would have thrown me too. As she continued to hold him Nolan held his arms aloft, not sure if he should hug her back or of what she would do next. After another fifteen or twenty seconds, Quilla let go of him and stepped back, now noticeably crying, but smiling with equal passion. “Despite all the time she was in that mausoleum, could you still see how pretty my Aunt was?”

Without missing a beat, Nolan said, “It’s amazing you ask that because when I got my first look at your dear Aunt I was taken by how beautiful she was.”

“Really?” squealed Quilla as if she were five years old.

“After all the years there was a certain amount of… disturbance to the body…which is natural, but it was easy to tell that she must have been a stunning young woman.”

I was touched by Nolan’s decision to shield Quilla from the truth about her Aunt’s remains. After nine years in the unprotected environment of a twelve-foot square mausoleum they were largely skeletal, with little flesh remaining.

Nolan looked at his watch, then said, “Meanwhile, young lady, I’d better be getting back to my work.”

“Thank you, Mister Fowler,” she said firmly.

“You’re welcome.” He stepped back and was about to return to the embalming room when Quilla said to me, “Is Nolan the person Viper will be talking to?”

“As a matter of fact, yes.” I said. Nolan stopped and looked at me, another look of bemused curiosity on his face. “But I haven’t brought the subject up yet to him.”

“What subject?” asked Nolan.

“Quilla has a friend who’s interested in getting into the trade,” I said. “Could he stop by and talk to you?”

“I don’t know,” said Nolan uncomfortably. “I’m not sure how much help I’d be.” He flashed me a quick look, his eyes asking me, “Should I do this?”

I arched my eyebrows and tilted my head a bit, as if to say, “It’s your call, man.”

“You’d be a great help,” said Quilla. “He doesn’t know anything about what you do except what he’s seen in dumb horror movies.” She looked at Nolan with great expectancy.

“Well, have him give me a call and I’ll sit him down.”

“Cool-cool,” said Quilla.

“What’d you say his name was?”

“Viper. I mean Lester. Lester Petrovich.”

Nolan eased up, almost relaxed. “I know a Petrovich. Harry Petrovich. Owns Petrovich Heating and Cooling. He installed central heating and air conditioning in my house.”

“That’s Viper’s uncle. Viper works part-time for him.”

Nolan smiled. “Small world.”

I reached into my pocket and gave Quilla my business card. “Give this to Viper. It has our number on it.” As Quilla took the card Nolan used the opportunity to wave good-bye and move the few steps to the embalming room.

“Bye Nolan,” said Quilla, smiling at him warmly.

“Bye-bye,” he said and disappeared into his work space.

I looked at Quilla. “Did meeting Nolan accomplish what you wanted?”

“I didn’t know what I wanted to accomplish. I just knew that I wanted to touch the last person who touched Aunt Brandy.” She smiled. I guess I’ll go now.”

“I’ll drop you somewhere.”

“No. I want to walk. I feel like being alone now. Besides, Viper’s therapist isn’t that far from here.”

I walked her upstairs and out the rear entrance to the Home. She brought up the meeting with Perry. Again, I told her I would try to set something up as soon as possible and that I’d call her. We said good-bye. I went back to the embalming room to ask Nolan a question. He was in the process of getting ready to wash Alphonse’s body.

“That was nice of you to be so gentle with her,” I said.

“Give people what they want to hear,” he said matter-of-factly, shrugging his shoulders. “The kid was hurting. What would’ve been the point of telling her that what was left of her Aunt bore no resemblance to anything human?” I nodded in agreement.

“About her friend who wants to talk to me? Harry Petrovich’s nephew? If he calls should I tell him how things really are or should I sugarcoat what I do?”

“Play it by ear. If you sense he’s serious, give him the truth. Tell him what it’s like to take a maimed or disease-ridden body and attempt to make it look presentable for the viewing public.”

“I hear ya,” said Nolan, nodding his head affirmatively.

“Guess I’ll leave you to work on Alphonse,” I said, heading to the door. As I opened it Nolan had turned on the water and sprinkled a goodly amount onto the head of the body. In a few seconds he would apply a dab of Pert Plus shampoo to the full head of silver hair on Alphonse’s head.