The Last One to Let You Down

by K. L. Hiers

  “Yet?”

  “I don’t date very much, so when they find out, they’re going to be… a bit excited.” Cypress grinned slyly. “Expect lots of big family dinners and almost certainly some interrogation.”

  “I can’t wait,” Tom laughed. “It actually sounds like—” His phone rang, and his stomach jumped up into his ribs.

  It was Mr. Crosby.

  “One sec.” Tom grimaced as he answered it, saying hesitantly, “Uh, hello?”

  “Ah! Tom!” Mr. Crosby greeted him. “How are you? How’s the leg?”

  “Fine, fine. Uh, how are you?”

  “Good, good. Just great.” Mr. Crosby paused. “Oh! Except my sister just died—”

  “God, I’m so sorry, sir.”

  “—and I want you to come in and embalm her.”

  Tom gritted his teeth. “Tonight?”

  “Please. I know it’s a lot to ask after your surgery, but there’s nobody else I trust taking care of my family.”

  Tom glanced miserably over at Cypress.

  He didn’t know if Cypress could hear what Mr. Crosby was asking, but he was actively shaking his head and mouthing ‘no.’

  “Is she already back at the funeral home?” Tom asked, cringing as a wave of guilt began to chew away at him. He didn’t think he could refuse a personal request like this, not from Mr. Crosby.

  “Oh, yes. Bosco and Scott brought her back a bit ago. I wanted to help, but I’m afraid I’m not the man I used to be.” Mr. Crosby sighed. “I would very much appreciate it if you would do this for me, Tom.”

  “Okay,” Tom said, quickly turning his body so he wouldn’t have to look at Cypress’s disappointed expression. “Okay, yes. I’ll be right there.”

  “Thank you so much, Tom,” Mr. Crosby replied. “Miss Edie will be along in an hour or two.”

  “Wait, what?”

  “She’s going out of town tomorrow, so she has to do the hair tonight.”

  “But you didn’t know if I was going to agree.”

  “What’s that, Tom?”

  “Nothing, sir. I’ll be up there as soon as I can.” Tom hung up and slowly turned back around to face Cypress with a sheepish grin. “Uh, so…”

  “What did you do?”

  “I maybe might have agreed to go to work.”

  “You’re still on vacation!” Cypress protested.

  “It’s for Mr. Crosby’s sister. She just died, and he wants me to come in and embalm her,” Tom explained quickly. “He already knew I was gonna do it, too. Damn him. He’s already got Miss Edie coming in to do her hair.”

  “Okay, fine.” Cypress stood up, heading back to the door to put his shoes on.

  “Fine?” Tom was confused. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m going with you.”

  “Wait, no. Come on.” Tom stood up. “You just got home from work, and you had way too many deliveries today. I can go. I’ll be fine. I went back the other day to fix Mr. Lundy and didn’t have any problems.”

  “Yeah, and that was also during normal business hours with a full staff,” Cypress pointed out. “I’m not letting you go up there alone.”

  Tom’s heart grew heavy. “You still think someone else is out there, don’t you?”

  “Last I checked, they’ve made no matches to the fingerprints found over at your place,” Cypress replied. “Which means it was not Junior since they already have his, and I’m sure he’s the first person they checked.”

  Tom didn’t feel as confident as he did a few seconds ago. “Well, even so, this is important.”

  “And I totally respect your decision. But I’m still coming with you.”

  “I can’t technically let you into the prep room while I’m working,” Tom said carefully, “but I guess you could hang out in the garage if you’re insisting?”

  “I am.” Cypress smirked. “I’ll bring a book.”

  Mister Doodles got a quick walk before they left, and Tom was thankful for Cypress holding his hand the whole drive over without complaining about his sweaty palms.

  It was dark by the time they got there, and the parking lot was deserted except for a few of the funeral home’s vans. Tom and Cypress entered through the flower door, and Tom opened the garage door that led into the hallway.

  “If I prop this and the prep room door open, we can… well, I guess we can yell at each other?” Tom grinned sheepishly.

  “You’re fine,” Cypress said. “I’ll hang out here.”

  “Hang on a second.” Tom went into the hallway and grabbed a stretcher, rolling it into the garage. He lowered each end down until it was about knee high and pushed it up against the wall, explaining, “All the extra chairs are in the chapel, but now you have a spot to sit!”

  “Thanks.” Cypress grinned as he took a seat. “Go on. Sooner you finish, the sooner we can leave.”

  “Got it.” Tom kissed Cypress. “Mmm, pray she’s a one point.”

  “I still don’t completely understand what that means, but I got you.”

  Tom hurried to the prep room, and he smiled when he saw who he presumed to be Mr. Crosby’s sister already on a table waiting for him and covered up with a sheet. He propped open the door and got changed into his personal protective equipment, double-checking the paperwork and her ID tag before he got started.

  He was getting ready to turn on the machine for his arterial injection when he heard Cypress calling out to him.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Everything’s fine!” Tom shouted back, flipping the machine on. “Shouldn’t be too long. I hope.” He thought he could hear Cypress laughing, but it was hard to hear over the machine running.

  The embalming went well, and Tom was finishing up when he heard the back door open and shut. He paused when he heard voices, and he tried to listen in.

  It sounded like Cypress was talking to someone, but then the door that led into the garage slammed shut.

  Footsteps were fast approaching, and Tom couldn’t explain why his heart began to pound so quickly. He looked around in a panic and hastily grabbed a scalpel to protect himself.

  “Hey,” Aaron said, poking his head around the open prep room door. He laughed when he saw the scalpel in Tom’s hand. “Expecting to stab somebody?”

  “Oh, shit.” Tom sighed in relief, dropping the scalpel down. “You scared the crap out of me.”

  “Feeling jumpy, huh?”

  “Yeah, a bit.” Tom feigned a smile. “Cypress okay?”

  “Oh, he’s fine,” Aaron replied. “I just told him we can’t keep that door open.”

  “Right.” Tom cleared his throat, awkwardly stripping off his gown and the rest of his personal protection equipment to throw away. “So… uh…”

  The air suddenly felt tense, and there was something about the way Aaron was staring at him that was making his skin crawl. There were a million alarms going off in Tom’s head, and all he wanted to do was leave as quickly as possible.

  “So,” Aaron said, “you ever bring the watch back?”

  “Did Gerald not talk to Agent Sanderson?” Tom grabbed a sheet to drape over the body, deciding immediately that he was not going to stay over to do his embalming report.

  He needed to get out of here.

  When he turned back around, he thought he was seeing things. Maybe he had inhaled too much formaldehyde because there was no way Aaron was actually standing there with a gun in his hand.

  “I’m not fucking around anymore,” Aaron said, boldly pointing the gun right at Tom’s face. “Tell me where that fucking watch is or you’re dead.”

  “Aaron?” Tom’s heart stopped. “What are you talking about? Why do you have a gun?”

  “For fuck’s sake,” Aaron groaned, kicking the door shut with his foot. “I’ve tried to be nice. I’ve been trying so hard to be a good guy here. But you just had to take the fucking watch!”

  Fear twisted Tom’s stomach into a painful knot, his heart restarting to fuel his growing panic. “I don’t understand. It’
s just a watch.”

  “No, it’s not.” Aaron gritted his teeth. “It’s a Cecil Vulturo original, a limited edition run by Rolex that Gerald bought in a damn pawn shop last year for Junior’s birthday! The seller had no idea what he had, and neither of those dumb fucks we work with did either.”

  “It’s…” Tom struggled to understand. “It’s valuable?”

  “Priceless. The last one sold at auction for over two million dollars.”

  “For a watch?”

  “Yes! For a watch! Now shut the fuck up and tell me where it is.” Aaron gritted his teeth. “I already know it’s not at your house, so fuckin’ tell me where you’re hiding it. Over at your little boyfriend’s? Huh?”

  “You’re the one who broke into my fucking house?” Tom accused, his hands twitching from an endless supply of adrenaline rushing through him. He felt like his feet were about to lift off the ground or he was gonna throw up. Maybe both.

  “Tell me where it is,” Aaron bit back, refusing to answer. He shook the gun impatiently at Tom and growled, “Right now.”

  “Why are you doing this?” Tom demanded. “Have you lost your fuckin’ mind? Even if I did have it, you can’t take it and sell it.”

  “Oh, I can’t?” Aaron scoffed haughtily. “With the way Mr. Crosby’s mind is going, all I have to do is say he lost it. Who is everybody gonna believe? Me or the guy who keeps trying to dock a dead man’s fuckin’ pay?”

  Tom was becoming rapidly aware that he was trapped in here. Aaron was blocking the only door, and Cypress was stuck in the garage with no way to get past the keypads locking both the doors that led into the hallway and the prep room. He prayed Cypress would notice it had been too long, that he would call for help—

  “Now,” Aaron snapped, “where is it?”

  “Were you helping Junior rob those people?” Tom asked urgently, hoping to buy some time.

  He had to keep stalling.

  Once Aaron knew Tom couldn’t get the watch, he knew he was dead.

  “Yeah, so Junior’s been assisting me with my little cash flow problem, okay?” Aaron shrugged. “We’ve been helping each other out, and I happened to notice the watch. I didn’t think it was real, so I went online and checked it out. Junior, that idiot, had a fortune on his wrist and had no idea.”

  “He sold it for drugs, didn’t he?” Tom laughed nervously. “Right? I mean, otherwise, you would have just gotten it from him.”

  “Yup,” Aaron snorted. “Fuckin’ moron traded it to that sleazy Seymour creep.”

  “Oh, my God.” Tom’s blood instantly froze in his veins as realization clicked into place. “Wait… you… You killed Mr. Ross, didn’t you?”

  “Look at you, Scrappy-Doo!” Aaron scoffed. “It doesn’t matter anyway. You can’t prove a damn thing.”

  “You fuckin’ knew him,” Tom pressed. “That’s how you knew he liked to be called Seymour. And you killed him… over a watch?”

  “For a watch worth fucking millions!” Aaron shouted furiously. “Do you have any idea how hard it is keeping Shelby happy? Do you have any idea how much fuckin’ debt I’m in?”

  “Why didn’t you take the stupid watch when you killed him?” Tom threw up his hands. “Did you get too busy stabbing him and forget?”

  “Because dear ol’ Junior decided to have a change of heart at the last fucking second and tried to stop me,” Aaron drawled. “I couldn’t tell him how much it was worth or else he would’ve tried to take it for himself.”

  “You left it on the body… but how did you know we were going to get the call?”

  “Who do you think first contacted the family to let them know he was dead?” Aaron smirked. “Once I found out they were out of state, all I had to do was tell them we would be getting the body, and those idiots didn’t question a thing.”

  “There’s still no way you could have known he’d come back with the watch,” Tom pointed out, glancing at the door anxiously. “It was evidence.”

  Come on, Cypress. Please. You know it’s been too long. Please call the cops. Bang on the door. Do something! Anything!

  “You’re really that naive?” Aaron scoffed. “It’s actually sad how easy it was to bribe an autopsy tech at the medical examiner’s office to make sure the watch came back with the body.”

  “Christ,” Tom whispered. He was running out of things to ask, and he knew he didn’t have much time left.

  There was no way Aaron would let him leave here alive.

  “Now, I’ve already spent my last fuckin’ dime making sure I could get my hands on that watch,” Aaron said, “and you’d better tell me—”

  The door keypad behind Aaron began to beep.

  “Shit.” Aaron backed away, scrambling against the counter. “Who the fuck—”

  “Hello, babies!” It was Miss Edie, strolling in without a worry in the world. She stopped short when she saw the gun in Aaron’s hand. “Oh, my word! Babies!” She clutched her big purse to her chest. “What is going on here?”

  “Miss Edie, turn around and go home,” Aaron snapped, lowering the gun warily.

  “Aaron Jeremiah Stutz! Is that a gun?” Edie gasped. “Come on now, baby. What are you boys doing?”

  “Edie, please just go home,” Tom pleaded. “I don’t want you to get hurt. It’s okay. We’re just talking.”

  “What kinda talkin’ needs a gun?” Edie demanded, standing up to her full height and puffing out her chest. “Aaron, you put that thing down right now.”

  “Miss Edie,” Aaron cautioned, “you really need to go.”

  “Edie, please,” Tom begged, trying to take a step toward her.

  Aaron raised the gun at him, clicking his tongue sharply. “Don’t move.” He looked back at Edie, and he now aimed the gun at her. “And you, you really need to go. Right fuckin’ now.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so,” Edie bit back as she started to dig around in her purse. “I can’t believe how nasty you’re talkin’ right now. What the hell has gotten into you, baby?”

  Aaron growled in frustration. “Miss Edie, for fuck’s sake, you fuckin’ stupid old hag. Just fuckin’ go already.”

  “That is no way to speak to your elders, young man!” Edie shouted defiantly. “I can’t believe you’d say that to me. You need to wash that hateful mouth out with some soap. What is wrong with you?”

  “Miss Edie, please,” Tom urged, clasping his hands together. “Listen to me. We’re both okay, but you need to go now.” He tried stepping closer but jerked back when Aaron pointed the gun at him again. “Please!”

  “You heard him, Miss Edie,” Aaron barked, keeping the gun trained on Tom. “You need to fuck the fuck off, right fuckin’ now.”

  “Like hell I do,” Edie declared, pulling out a gleaming silver revolver from her giant purse and aiming it dead at Aaron.

  “What the fuck?” Aaron stared stupidly, clearly stunned. He was so shocked that he actually lowered his weapon. “Why do you have a—”

  Edie squinted and shot, the bullet catching Aaron in the knee and sending him to the ground with a howl of pain. He dropped his gun, and it clattered across the floor.

  “Holy shit,” Tom hissed, watching blood gush down Aaron’s leg. He couldn’t move, and he watched in amazement as Edie calmly used her foot to slide the gun out of Aaron’s reach.

  He could hear banging from the door down the hall, but his brain didn’t register what the noise was.

  “Oh, dear Lord, please forgive me for shootin’ little Aaron, but he sure as hell had it comin’,” Edie recited quickly as she glanced up at the ceiling. Her gun remained fixed on Aaron as she asked, “Tom? Would you please be a dear and call an ambulance for him?”

  “Right.” Tom snapped out of his shock, though his fingers were shaking as he reached for his phone.

  “Fuck!” Aaron groaned, trying to staunch the bleeding with his hands. He glared furiously at Edie and screamed, “You fuckin’ bitch! You fuckin’ shot me!”

  “You’d better hush up them nasty
lips, or I’ll shoot you again,” Edie warned.

  Tom had no idea what he told the dispatcher, frantically rambling out something about a man being shot who was trying to kill them all.

  Smooth, very smooth.

  He hung up quickly with a wince, saying, “They’re on their way.”

  “I’m going to fucking bleed out before they get here!” Aaron wailed miserably. “Come on! You gotta fuckin’ help me!”

  “We ain’t gotta do nothin’.” Edie snorted. “But lucky for you, I’m a good Christian woman. Take off your tie and wrap it around your leg. Tom?”

  “Yes ma’am?” Tom asked.

  “You got a metal rod or somethin’ that won’t break if it gets turned up real tight?”

  “Uh.” Tom looked around frantically and opened up one of the instrument trays. He found a drain tube, offering it up for her inspection. “This?”

  “That’ll work. Go on and toss it over to that idiot.” Edie jerked her head. “I’m gonna talk him through tyin’ it off, and will you please go see what that damn racket is?”

  The banging down the hall hadn’t stopped, and Tom suddenly gasped, “Fuck! Cypress!” He sprinted around Edie, dashing down to the door and cursing as he opened it. “I’m so fuckin’ sorry! I forgot!”

  Cypress immediately crushed him in a giant hug, smothering him with kisses and demanding, “I heard a shot! Are you hurt? What the fuck—”

  “I’m okay, I’m okay!” Tom hugged him back as hard as he could. “It was Miss Edie—”

  “Wait, who got shot?”

  “Aaron!” Tom exclaimed. “He was gonna shoot me—”

  “What?”

  “—and then Edie pulls out the biggest fuckin’ gun I’ve ever seen and just shoots him!” Tom took Cypress’s hand and quickly led him back to the prep room.

  Edie was watching over Aaron, praying loudly, “And Lord, please forgive this young boy, and may he use his head as more than a container for his teeth. May he see the wrongfulness of his ways and not talk nasty to ladies like some cheap little punk.”

  “Hey, Edie! Are you okay?” Tom asked, cautiously glancing at Aaron.

  Aaron was still on the floor, but his leg was tied up, and the bleeding seemed to have stopped. He was sweaty and scowling but alive.