Hauling Ash

by Tonia Brown

“That would be me, sweet cheeks,” Walter said. “I’d love to chat all day, but I ain’t got time. Leave the towels on the bed and get your cute behind out of here.”

  The maid did no such thing. She pulled her cart into the open doorway, whipped out a dust rag and set about cleaning the room. Otto watched from the closet as she ran the rag over the room’s fixtures, one by one, whistling to herself as she worked.

  “Excuse me?” Walter said. “I said for you to drop the towels and go.”

  It was fairly obvious the maid couldn’t hear the ghost. She continued in her cleaning tasks, moving across the room, lamp by shelf by table, leaving a streak of shine behind her.

  Walter stood from his seat and headed toward the maid. He snapped a few times to her left, almost in her ear, then grunted in disappointment. “You can’t hear me, can you?” He waved his hand in front of her face.

  She ignored the ghost, instead spraying the mirror with some kind of foaming cleanser and wiping it down with a paper towel.

  “Can’t see me neither,” Walter said. “I guess that answers that, Eightball.”

  Otto nodded, rather than agree aloud.

  Walter looked the maid up and down, from head to toe to head again. “Pretty girl, ain’t she?” He walked around her a few times, watching her ply her trade. “I’ve always had a thing for working girls.” Walter lifted the edge of the maid’s short skirt, trying to get a gander at her gams.

  The maid absentmindedly brushed off his assault, as if he were no more than an annoying fly.

  “You know, son,” Walter said, “this might just be heaven after all.” He lifted the edge of her skirt again, whistling at what he found beneath.

  Otto nearly bit his tongue in two in an effort to keep quiet. He wanted to scold Walter for being such a letch, yet god forbid the maid caught him crouching in the closet over a duffle bag full of someone else’s money. He glanced down, and a flash of green reminded him that the bag was still unzipped. If the maid decided to open the closet, she would not only find a very embarrassed Otto, she would most certainly see the money. She couldn’t help but see the money; it practically spilled out of the opening. In a moment of panic, Otto snatched the pull toward him and zipped the bag closed.

  The sound of the metal zipper racing along its track echoed in the small closet.

  At the noise, the maid ceased her whistling.

  “She’s comin’ your way,” Walter said.

  Otto pressed himself into the recess of the closet, which was useless because there was nowhere to hide. The closet doors opened, filling the small space with light and revealing a cowering Otto. He waggled his fingers at the maid. “Um, hello?”

  The maid lurched backward with a startled shout of surprise.

  “I’m sorry,” Otto said. “I should’ve spoken up sooner.” He stepped out of the closet, at which the maid took another few steps backward.

  “I don’t want any trouble,” she said.

  “Please, don’t be frightened,” Otto said. “I didn’t mean to spook you.” He reached out, intending to reassure the maid with a gentle pat on the shoulder.

  She ducked away from his grip with a gasp.

  Otto advanced, hands outstretched, matching the maid’s retreat step for step. “No need to be scared. I promise I won’t hurt you.”

  “Way to sound like a serial killer,” Walter said. “She already thinks you’re a pervert.”

  “Why should she think I’m a pervert?” Otto said.

  “Because she caught you hiding in the closet after she heard you zip up your pants.”

  At the mention of his trousers, Otto instinctively checked on his zipper. It was then that he remembered the woman they were so openly talking about was, in fact, still in the room with them. He looked to the maid, who had backed up against a wall and now stood staring down at Otto’s hands, which lingered indelicately over his crotch.

  “I wasn’t zipping my pants,” Otto explained.

  The maid furrowed her brow.

  “That set things right,” Walter said.

  Otto smiled.

  The maid did not.

  “Now she thinks she heard you unzipping your pants,” Walter said.

  Otto’s eyes went wide. “Oh dear no! I wasn’t unzipping them either. See?” He grabbed the zipper of his trousers, pulling the whole seam forward to show the maid how tightly closed it was. “See? Not unzipped. Not unzipped!”

  “Is there a problem here?” another, much more masculine voice said.

  Spinning about on his heel, Otto found a tall man in a dark blue suit standing outside of the doorway.

  The man’s name badge read Jones.

  It also read Security.

  “Careful, lad,” Walter said. “These rent-a-cops can be ruthless.”

  “I was explaining to this young lady that I wasn’t hiding in the closet unzipping my pants,” Otto explained.

  “Is that so?” Jones said. He raised a bushy eyebrow.

  “Or zipping,” Otto said quickly. “To make it clear, I was neither zipping nor unzipping my pants in the closet just now.”

  The officer eyed Otto for a moment of silence, then waved the maid out of the room. “Get back to work, Gretchen. I’ll handle this guy.”

  “Gretchen, is it?” Otto said. “That’s a lovely name.”

  The maid squeezed past Otto, grabbed the handle of her cart and fled the scene as though her life depended on it.

  “Let me get this straight,” the suit said to the tune of the maid’s hasty retreat, “you weren’t in the closet, and you weren’t zipping or unzipping your pants?”

  Otto gave a soft chuckle. “I certainly don’t want to paint a false picture of the proceedings. I must admit, I was in the closet while the young lady was cleaning the room.”

  “I see.” The security officer retrieved a pad and pen from his jacket pocket, and began taking notes. “What’s your name, sir?”

  “Octavious Waldorf.”

  “Waldorf, huh?” The officer made a few notes. “Mr. Waldorf, do you mind if I ask what were you doing in the closet with the door shut?”

  “I was … well that is to say … I mean I certainly wasn’t …” Otto gave a heavy sigh. “I honestly don’t have a good answer for that.”

  Jones looked up from his pad, eyeing Otto for a moment.

  “Really?” Walter said. “That’s the best you can do? I can think of at least three reasonable excuses for you to be in that closet.”

  Otto tried to smile. It came off as a sheepish grin. As if he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t have been doing.

  Jones glanced to the open closet, then back to Otto.

  “You’re in for it now,” Walter said.

  “Listen, buddy,” the officer said as he closed his notepad and tucked it into his jacket. “I understand. I really do.”

  “You do?” Otto said.

  “Hey, I’m a guy, I get where you’re coming from. Gretchen is a real pretty girl. I can’t blame you for checking her out. Hell, I do a double take every time she cleans the office downstairs.” Jones clapped Otto on the shoulder. “Next time, try not to be such a perv about it? Okay?”

  “Perv?”

  “Yeah. I think she would prefer you outright stare at her ass rather than play peeping Tom in the closet. Know what I mean?”

  “I wasn’t—” Otto started, then thought better of it when he realized the officer was letting him off with a warning. “Right. How silly of me.”

  Jones patted Otto on the back once more. “Good. Keep your hands to yourself and yourself out of the closet, and there shouldn’t be a problem. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I think we’re done here, sir. You have yourself a good day.”

  “Thank you. You too.”

  The officer chuckled to himself as he left, pulling the door closed behind him.

  “So much for keeping a low profile,” Walter said.

  “I think that went rather well,” Otto said. “All thi
ngs considered.”

  “Rather well?” Walter gave a soft snort. “You went from first class cruise passenger to a no class pervert. How can that possibly be a good thing?”

  “Considering the alternative of that security man or the maid finding a bag full of money I can’t account for, I think I can deal with being thought of as a pervert for a few days.” Otto sat the edge of the bed as he confessed, “Besides, it won’t be the first time.”

  Walter settled into the chair across the room again. “Ah, that’s right. Your old lady accused you of that thing with the corpses. That … you know … necro-feel-you-up.”

  “It’s pronounced necrophilia, and she not only accused me of it, she based the whole divorce off of the ridiculous notion. Thank goodness the judge saw reason.”

  “She couldn’t prove it, could she?”

  “It wasn’t just lack of proof, it was lack of believability. I’ve buried most of that town’s families, including the judge’s wife the summer before. My innate professionalism saved me. And my house.”

  “They should’ve locked her away for accusing you of it. Screwing around with dead bodies? What would make her think you could do such a thing?”

  Otto relaxed back onto the bed and closed his eyes. “I can’t imagine.”

  “I can. It’s because she’s a stone cold bitch.”

  “I couldn’t agree more. There was one good thing about the whole experience; it taught me that even if proven otherwise, once people think of you as a pervert they tend to leave you alone. Which is all I ever really wanted.”

  “They left you alone, all right. I don’t think I ever saw you out with another woman after that mess.”

  “That’s because I haven’t dated anyone since my divorce.”

  Otto wiggled his shoes off and scooted back onto the bed. He curled onto his side and settled his head onto an overstuffed pillow. The bed was more comfortable than he expected. Either that or he was more tired than he thought. Weeping late into last night followed by the panic of today’s events had left him exhausted. A soft click sounded, and when Otto opened his eyes he could barely make out the borders of light outlining the curtains and door.

  Walter pulled a comforter across Otto, tucking him into bed. Just like the old man had done for so many years.

  Otto snuggled down under the blanket and closed his eyes again.

  “Speaking of the ladies,” Walter said. “How long has it been?”

  “She left me three years ago.” Otto drifted toward the warm, gentle arms of sleep.

  “No. I mean how long has it been?”

  “What?”

  “You know what, boy.”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” Otto mumbled, though he had a fairly good idea what Walter said. He just didn’t want to address his sex life with a walking, talking corpse.

  Especially when there wasn’t much of it to talk about.

  Chapter Seven

  Holiday

  Meanwhile, across the deck

  “Nice boat,” Larry said. He sat on one of the beds and bounced up and down, testing the springs.

  “Ship,” Frank said. He tossed his bag onto the other bed with a grunt. “We’re lucky we made it in time. I don’t think they would’ve held it much longer.”

  “Yeah, sorry about that. I didn’t mean for Lucy to get the wrong idea.”

  Frank smirked at the thought of Larry’s feisty fiancé jumping into the backseat of the sedan, all packed for a Bahama-bound cruise. “I don’t understand what you said to make her think she was coming along.”

  “I don’t know either.”

  “She’s okay now?”

  “Well, it didn’t help when I told her it was a singles’ cruise. She sure is sore at me. I’m sorry it took so long to get her out of the car.”

  “It’s fine. I just hope them holding the ship for that extra hour doesn’t tip Waldorf off.”

  “The money man or the nut man?”

  Frank looked to the ceiling for help. When none seemed to be on the way, he sighed and looked to Larry again. “From now on, when I am referring to the mobster, I will say Maloney. When I am talking about Octavious Waldorf, I will say Waldorf. Okay?”

  Larry shrugged. “Okay, boss.”

  Stepping up to the window, Frank peered between the curtains to the private balcony. “This isn’t good.”

  “What’s wrong?” Larry said.

  “I wanted something below deck,” Frank said. “Not first class.”

  “What’s wrong with first class? I’ve never been in first class. It’s kind of nice.”

  “First class passengers stick out more. The staff is paid to treat them differently. The other passengers hold them in envy. We’re going to draw too much attention.”

  “I thought you wanted a room near the perps? Tracy says Maloney’s got the huge suite at the end of the deck, and Waldorf is two more around the corner.”

  “I know what I said. Still, it’s so ostentatious.”

  “You know, it might not be such a bad idea to draw a little attention, sir.”

  Frank leaned back from the window to eye Larry. “How so?”

  “You can’t hide who you are from Maloney. He’ll recognize you the minute you step out of this room. And as for Waldorf, he probably already knows we’re here. He’s somehow managed to keep one step ahead of us so far. Between the two, I don’t think you have much of a chance to do anything but stick out.”

  “How does drawing more attention to ourselves help with this situation?”

  “If we don’t hide, if we act like we are supposed to be here, like we know what’s been going on the whole time, than it will put both Maloney and Waldorf on edge.”

  “And?”

  “And I don’t know about you, sir, but I find I make a lot of mistakes when I get nervous.”

  Frank nodded to his partner. “That is a very good point. Thank you, Lawrence.”

  Larry smiled brightly. “You’re welcome, boss.”

  “Now the only trouble we have is to make sure we look like we know what is what.”

  “Don’t we know what is what?”

  “We have a fairly good idea what is what, though we can’t be certain if what we know is the real what that is going on.”

  Larry lost the bright smile. “I think I just got confused again.”

  “Not to worry, I have a handle on it.”

  “I’m glad someone does.”

  Frank stepped to the front windows and peered between the curtains in time to watch a panic stricken maid race by the window. “The staff seems on the ball around here. Who is our contact?”

  “A guy in security goes by the name of Stan Jones.”

  “Can we trust him?”

  “Tracy says he checks out okay.” Larry read off the details from his phone. “He was an officer with Charleston police until he blew a kneecap in 2007. Married twice, divorced twice. No kids, no pets, no siblings. He’s been on the security staff with the cruise line for a couple of years.”

  “Ex-police turned security guard?” Frank sat on his bed, opposite of Larry. “I feel for him. That’s a tough row to hoe.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Still, at least he gets to travel.”

  “There is that.”

  The two fell quiet for a moment, each looking down at their feet.

  He had no idea what brought Larry to silence, but Frank knew why he was suddenly uncomfortable; he may have lied to the kid about having a handle on this whole thing. Looking back on the last few hours, it may have been a mistake to jump on board a cruise ship headed out to sea after two criminals—one definitely dangerous and the other assumed dangerous—not to mention the minions Maloney was bound to bring along. He should’ve let the men make their transaction out at sea, then arrested them when they returned. There was no way to back out now without tipping his hand. He had to see this all the way through.

  “Sir?” Larry said after a bit of silence.

  “Yeah?”

&nb
sp; “Do you think we really stand a chance of catching Maloney this time?”

  “I sure hope so. If not, you best enjoy this trip, because we are going to have a lot of explaining to do if we go back empty handed.”

  A knock sounded from the door.

  Frank looked up to Larry. “That him?”

  “I think so,” Larry said. He jumped up and went to the door. “What is it?”

  “Security,” a man said. “Just making rounds.”

  Placing his hand on the doorknob, Larry glanced to Frank, who nodded in approval. Larry opened the door, revealing a large man in a dark blue suit.

  “Officer Jones?” Frank said.

  The man nodded. “I used to be.”

  “You still are,” Frank said as he stood. “Come in.”

  The security officer stepped into the room and Larry closed the door behind the man. After introductions were done, Frank pulled the photo he snagged from Waldorf’s home and held it out to the man.

  “This is the guy we are interested in,” Frank said. “Octavious Waldorf.”

  Jones glanced down at the photo. “Hey, that’s the guy in four.”

  Frank cocked his head at the words. “You’ve already been in contact with him?”

  “The boat hasn’t even left the dock,” Larry said.

  Jones held his hands up in an innocent plea. “It wasn’t like I planned on it. I was securing the upper deck when I came across him fooling around with of one of our maids.”

  “What happened?” Frank said.

  Jones slid a well-worn note pad from his pocket and a rather expensive looking pen from his jacket. He flipped the pad open and began reading from his notes.

  Frank listened intently, smirking while Larry outright chuckled at the report.

  “In the end,” Jones said, closing his pad once more, “I warned him against playing peeping Tom. The girls don’t like being spied on like that.”

  “My girl does,” Larry said.

  Frank eyed Larry into an awkward silence before he returned his attention to Jones. “Did you see any of Waldorf’s luggage?”

  “All I saw was a backpack beside the bed.”

  “That’s all?”

  “Yeah. He packed light, I guess. I don’t know why you guys are so interested in him. He seems kind of, I don’t know, like a loser.”