Scythe

by M K Mancos

  She nodded. “Last night, a respected man in the community killed his wife by feeding her formaldehyde.”

  His stomach knotted tight enough to make a sailor proud. He didn’t like for a minute the fact she knew something like that. But even more than that, he hated how seeing her torn up made him feel—as if he wanted to do nothing more than shield her from the world. If he knew nothing else about Keely Montgomery, he knew she wouldn’t enjoy being coddled.

  But he could make telling her story easier.

  Josiah leaned forward, taking her shaking hand in his. He rubbed his hand over the back of hers. Turning it over, he noticed a fading injury that looked like a burn on her palm. “How do you know this?”

  Her liquid gaze pulled at him. She blinked and tears ran down her cheeks. “I can’t tell you. I wish I could tell you everything, but I can’t.”

  “Sweetheart, I can’t help you if you don’t give me the particulars.”

  “It’s too late anyways. He embalmed her right after he killed her…”

  She would have said more, but Josiah held up a hand to stop her. “Embalmed her?”

  “He’s the owner of Tranquility Park Funeral Home.”

  Suddenly, Josiah didn’t feel so good. His gut roiled. He’d seen the obit in the morning’s paper. It had merely said she’d died after a long, undiagnosed illness. He’d thought the wording strange at the time, but now even more so.

  “Do you have any proof that it was formaldehyde poisoning? The obit said she’d died after a long illness. And besides, funeral homes use formaldehyde, he’d have ready access to it.”

  Keely surged up from the sofa. “I bet if you check, you’ll find he didn’t want an autopsy. The fact he embalmed her right after the breath left her body proves he didn’t want anyone to find anything.”

  He stood as well, coming close enough to her to feel her heat despite the chill of the apartment. This time he took both her hands. “How do you know this?”

  “Please, just check on it. He didn’t even have a doctor or hospice there to pronounce her. Isn’t there something somewhere that says there has to be someone to officiate the time of death and sign the death certificate?”

  “Jeez.” He wiped a hand down his face. “Yes.”

  “He was alone with her.” A sob broke from her throat. She wiggled her hand away from his and covered her mouth.

  Josiah pulled her into his arms and rocked her back and forth.

  “She didn’t even have the strength to fight back.”

  There was no way the woman in his arms had ever harmed anyone. However, that didn’t answer the greater question—how did she know about the murder?

  She’d never answered his question. And it didn’t look as if she intended to either. Josiah was torn between forcing her to fess up and letting the “how” go.

  Honestly, he was almost afraid to ask. Afraid she’d tell him she was in the room when it happened. In his experience, anyone so distraught over a death would have tried to intervene and stop the events from taking place, even at the risk of their own safety.

  How had she gone from villainess to innocent in his eyes—and so quickly? All his thoughts of Keely as a suspect or party to anyone’s demise melted away. Any lingering doubts puddled in the space between them.

  “I’ll make some inquiries. See if I can dig something up. I can’t promise you what I find will result in an arrest, but if things don’t smell right, I’ll push the issue until I can at least get a search warrant.”

  “If you do get a warrant, there’s a bottle hidden behind a bookcase in the basement as you go down the stairs.”

  Josiah closed his eyes. “I never thought I’d hear myself say this to a potential witness—I don’t want to know how you know that.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t tell you anyways.”

  He backed up to look into her eyes. “Why doesn’t that make me all warm and fuzzy?”

  The truth was it scared him shitless. An awful feeling kept rolling around in his heart and head. One day he’d get called to a scene and there’d be Keely lying in a pool of blood. Dead. The thought made him pull her closer.

  “For Christ’s sake, tell me what you’re mixed up in.”

  Her arms tightened on him, but she didn’t look at his face. “I want to tell you everything about me and what’s going on, but I can’t.”

  What he didn’t say, but ran through his mind with a power and certainty that could have been considered premonition, was that Keely was on the ropes. It was only a matter of time before she told him everything.

  15

  Josiah stayed for a while, holding her and whispering words of comfort into her ear. Keely had wanted him to stay, but didn’t even make the suggestion when he finally moved to leave. She’d already made an ass of herself by clinging to him like a lifeline. But he’d felt so good. All the comfort and compassion she’d ever need were right there in his arms for the taking. She wondered, not for the first time, how she’d gone from dreading his presence to wanting desperately to see him.

  Josiah Adler was a good man and a dedicated cop. She knew that without having to know him any better than she did. It was in the way he held her and the soft rumble of his voice when he tried to soothe her.

  Keely sighed, trying not to let her romantic notions get away with her. Working as a Scythe, her budding feelings for the sexy detective would all come to nothing. They had to. There was no way she’d go into a relationship with a man she could never be perfectly honest with about her vocation. Or how groceries miraculously appeared in her refrigerator and cabinets merely by thinking of them.

  She headed into the bedroom to change into her Scything uniform. That was another weird thing about working for the Almighty, her clothes were always clean and pristine. She never had to worry about doing laundry. Such mundane matters had ceased to have a place in her life, which was a good thing, since she didn’t have time for them anyways.

  “I thought that man would never leave.” Samson materialized on the bed. He looked out of place sitting amid the lacy pillows and pink duvet.

  “You really need to learn how to use the front door.” She reached over and snatched a bra out from under his leg. “Would you mind? You’re wallowing all over my things.”

  “I do not wallow.” He leaned over to help her retrieve her trapped undergarment. “We need to discuss your disobedience.”

  Keely straightened, confused by his meaning. “Disobedience?”

  The bra came loose and snapped her like a slingshot. “Ouch.” She stuck her fingers in her mouth, sucking on the injury.

  “Yes. I gave you a direct order not to interfere and you’ve called the police.”

  Outraged, Keely put her hands on her hips. The bra hung at her side like a lacy whip. “If you think for one minute I’ll turn a blind eye so that asshole can get away with killing his wife, you’re demented.”

  “It’s not your place to judge. Your only job is to sever the cord.”

  “Oh, I’ll judge all right. I don’t have the luxury of coming and going from this existence like you do. I have to live in this world with people like that murdering son of a bitch and I’ll be damned if I’ll keep quiet on it.”

  “Then I have no choice but to place you on administrative probation.”

  “You know what you can do with your probation?” She crossed her arms over her chest, her face thrust close to his. She hadn’t dealt with rowdy drunks for years to back down to a pushy Scythe.

  “I have a feeling if I say no, you’ll still tell me.”

  “Damn right I will.” She crossed the room to her closet and pulled out a nice dress shirt and slacks.

  Samson gave her a wary glance. “What are you about? We need to get going, there’s a long list tonight.”

  “Then good luck to you.” She started to unbutton her blouse.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Figure it out. You put me on probation from a job I never wanted in the first place. I figure I’ll e
ither declare myself on strike or quit. You choose.” She waved her hand at him in dismissal. He didn’t budge. He was the most stubborn being she’d ever encountered.

  “I think not.” Samson unfolded from the bed, attempting to use his impressive size to intimidate her.

  “Oh, I do think so.” She stopped unbuttoning her shirt and dug into her jeans pockets to empty them. The stiff edge of a business card poked her finger. She pulled it out and placed it on the dresser along with a few crumbled dollar bills and loose change.

  He looked on the verge of screaming—or choking her—until his gaze shifted to the card she’d pulled from her pocket. “Stay away from them.”

  “Business cards? Yes, dangerous things, those.”

  He picked it up, stuffing it into his own bottomless pit of a pocket. “Stay away from Death, Inc.”

  “Or?”

  “It’s not a threat, Keely. I’m saying this for your own protection. They are rogues and are beholden to no higher power.”

  She shrugged off the idea he’d try to protect her on something more than his own whims. Wasn’t this the same…whatever he was…who forced her to Scythe in front of a crowded crime scene? “Doesn’t matter. I’m going to go see my parents and try to get my life back on track.”

  A deed that was long overdue in her eyes.

  “This is your life now. You’ll never do anything more important than the service you perform for the dead.”

  “What about wanting a normal life—marriage, children, pets? I can’t have those things now because no man is going to want to put up with a woman who has to sneak out every night to send people to the afterlife.”

  “Being a Scythe doesn’t preclude you from having those things,” he said, as if it were easy.

  Keely gave him an incredulous laugh. “Are you serious? You have no idea how it is with real living people, do you?”

  “More so than you ever will. I’ve been party to the human condition since Adam met Eve.” He started for the closet door. She supposed that’s how he came and went.

  Just like that she was alone.

  Stupid man.

  How could he possibly know anything about the world? If he did, he wouldn’t have made it sound as if it were easy. She could imagine Josiah’s reaction if she told him about working for God. He’d have her committed.

  Of course, now that she’d gone on strike, she had all the time in the world to get to know Josiah and not worry about telling him anything. Though, if he found out about the murderous funeral director, she’d have to come up with a story about how she knew all the information she’d given him. That was not a tempting prospect. The only lie that came readily to mind was that she was a psychic, but that didn’t fit with the things he’d already witnessed.

  Better to let things work themselves out in this instance.

  She hurried through a shower and changed into her dress clothes. After spending thirty minutes hunting for the car keys she hardly ever used, she walked the two blocks to a storage garage Nico owned.

  She unlocked the door and rolled it up. Her retro Mustang sat under a tarp, waiting to be driven. She hated keeping it locked up most of the time, but the truth of the matter was she didn’t possess the funds to drive it into the city and park it every time she went in for classes. Plus, most of her destinations were in Water Point Station proper and she could walk or take a bus. The only time she took the shiny red car out was when she drove to see her parents.

  A twinge of guilt hit her square in the sternum.

  She missed her family so much. For years they’d kept her grounded and centered. Even when she began her quest to live in conditions like those she’d one day counsel did, they’d been supportive. They didn’t really understand her need to gain a perspective other than her upper middle-class one, but they still let her know they were proud of her goals and accomplishments.

  Given that, there was no way in hell she’d show up at their house after taking the train or bus, not after they’d spent some wild cash giving her the car for Christmas two years before. Their reason had been that she didn’t come home enough. They felt if she had her own transportation, she’d be able to visit more.

  This time the guilt swamped her.

  She’d promised to see them on Sunday and hadn’t made it. Blowing them off for her birthday then again for a family dinner wasn’t good. Not that her birthday had been her fault. There wasn’t much she could do when Nico called and needed her to watch the bar for him.

  Her parents had been disappointed, but understood. They always seemed to understand. To look beyond their own wants to let her live her life as she saw fit.

  Keely got into the car and turned the key. The engine roared to life. It really was a kick-ass car. Too bad she didn’t drive it as often as she’d like.

  After allowing the engine to warm for a bit, she rolled out of the garage and then got out and put the door back down.

  A weird tingling sensation crawled down the skin of her neck. She turned and saw that Midnight character leaning against the building across the street. There was something not right about that dude. He gave her the creeps. Usually Goth dudes didn’t faze her. She’d lived in the metropolitan New York area too long to let something like weird clothes and bad hair bring her to judge an individual, but this guy was beyond needing a fashion consultant.

  Could he have been the one watching her apartment that night?

  The very thought made her shudder.

  Keely got back into her car, buckling up before easing off the side street and up to the main intersection.

  Traffic moved at a nice clip for early evening. She turned off Route 24 into the Short Hills area and wound her way down tree-lined streets.

  She pulled into her parents’ driveway and noted the cars parked there. Warmth spread through her. She hadn’t called to let them know she’d be there, had wanted to surprise them. It looked like the surprise was on her. Both her brothers’ cars were parked in the driveway. God, she’d missed them, too.

  It had been months since she’d seen Cliff and his wife, Jessica. Frank, she ran into every now and then. He owned a high-end bistro in the Village. After class some days, she’d go there, have lunch and hang out with him. Most days, she didn’t have the time and had to hurry back across the Hudson to work.

  Coming to the front door, she walked in and yelled, “Hey, Mom, I’m home.”

  “Keely?” She could see her father in his study off the foyer. He lifted his head over the top of his computer monitor like a prairie dog coming out of his hole.

  Frank had been leaning over their father’s shoulder. He straightened and smiled. “The prodigal daughter returns.”

  “I’ve had a really busy week.” She stepped into the study and kissed them both. By the time she turned around her mother, Cliff, and assorted sisters-in-law, nieces and nephews were crowded into the room to say hello.

  Her mother held onto her as if they’d been separated by war. When Rena Montgomery finally pulled away from her daughter, she brushed a knuckle along Keely’s cheek. “You look tired, baby.”

  “Haven’t slept well this past week.” Before her mother launched into a sermon on the importance of eating right and getting a full night’s rest, Keely stopped her.

  “I wish you’d quit that bartending job. The thought of you working in that dive scares me.” Her mother ran her hand down Keely’s hair a few times.

  “The bar isn’t that bad. We have our regulars who come in.” Keely rubbed her forehead where the stress of the last few days collected. “I started a second job that took some of my time, but I don’t think it’s working out for me or my bosses. I’m pretty sure things will calm down now.”

  “If you need money, sweetheart…” Her father reached for his wallet.

  “No. Dad, it’s fine. I’ve got enough money and food.”

  Unexpected tears filled her eyes. Oh, damn. She wasn’t a crier. Why did she have to get weepy now of all times?

  She hadn’t reali
zed until that moment how much she missed her family. If she had to spend the rest of her life avoiding them, or missing family functions because of her Scything duties, she’d not go back. It was too much to give up.

  Standing there, surrounded by her entire family, she marveled at her willpower to resist her mother’s repeated offers of financial help. Only her deep need to intimately know the hardships of others kept her on her goal.

  An ex-boyfriend had once accused her of having a martyr complex. Maybe he was right.

  Keely turned her face away to hide her errant emotions from her family.

  “Come on,” her mother put her arm around Keely’s shoulder and ushered her out of the room. “We’ll go sit in the kitchen and have some tea and talk.”

  The rest of the family followed them.

  The kitchen really was the heart of the Montgomery home. It sported a cathedral ceiling, hand-painted blue tiles and a table large enough to seat the entire family. It was a heavy butcher-block affair her father had made with his own hands.

  Keely sat and ran her palms over the wood. Memories of all the times she’d sat with her family just like this flooded her system. Jesus, she’d never felt so alone in all her life. Thank God she hadn’t gotten those stupid flashes of disease states when she touched her family members.

  Her sister-in-law, Camille, patted Keely’s hand. “What’s he like?”

  “What’s who like?”

  “The man who has you looking like your world just ended.”

  The woman had always been too perceptive. “Depends on which man you mean. The preceptor I just walked out on, or the hot detective I keep running into?”

  “You’re sleeping with your new boss?” Cliff asked. That comment garnered him a dirty look from both their mother and his wife. “What?”

  “Let her tell us.” Her mother sat a cup of herbal tea in front of her. “Are you sleeping with your new boss?”

  Keely had to laugh at that. The idea Samson even had such base human desires was laughable. “Please, God. No. He’s handsome as sin, but his personality would make a wet blanket look like a hit on the comedy club circuit. The man doesn’t even know Star Trek references.”