“Are you out of your mind?” she screamed.
“I could ask you the same thing.” Chris stood up, looked around the room, threw his hands up in the air, then dropped them back to his sides. Frustration didn’t begin to describe what he was feeling.
“Actually, I think we’re damn lucky. We could be trapped in your car on the side of the road somewhere freezing to death. Instead, here we are in a luxurious cabin, with all the amenities. And you’re complaining.”
Chris turned his back on her and walked into the kitchen. He knew anything he said would not make a difference. Laura was an immature, self-serving, spoiled Hollywood brat. Knowing it gave her satisfaction to argue with him, he decided he would keep his mouth shut until they were able to drive away on their own or he was able to make a call using his cell phone. With that thought in mind, he opened the cupboard and removed two cans of tomato soup, thankful Johnathan kept the cabin supplied with plenty of staples.
He opened the soup with the electric can opener, again thankful for Johnathan’s careful planning. The generator would keep the power on as long as their gas supply lasted. Chris guessed there was enough to last for another week if they were frugal. He scooped the thick glob of condensed soup in the saucepan, added water, then turned the burner on high.
Laura chose that moment to saunter into the kitchen, stopping when she saw what he was doing. “Soup again? At this rate, I’ll starve to death.”
Chris smiled. The one positive attribute Laura had was her ability to chow down with the big boys. Although petite, she could consume as much food as someone twice her size. She was not one of those stars who ate like a rabbit.
“You’re not going to starve.” When the soup came to a boil, he turned the burner off and poured the bubbly red-orange liquid into two soup bowls. He grabbed a sleeve of saltine crackers and a jar of peanut butter from the pantry. He didn’t cook this much when he was at home. He gathered the food up, placed it on a wooden tray, and carried it to the dining room table—the one he might have to use for firewood if their situation didn’t change soon.
Rolling his eyes, he looked at the young girl. “Come on. You have to eat.” He felt like he was babysitting!
Reluctantly, she slid into the chair across from him. “Whatever. Let’s just call a truce, okay? I don’t want to hear your mouth anymore.”
Chris had never condoned physical violence of any kind, no matter what the circumstances. However, those past four days with Laura had given him a change of heart. Taking another deep, cleansing breath, he began to eat the soup. If he didn’t do something soon, he thought he just might be tempted to give Miss Laura Leigh a good smack. More than a bit surprised at the direction his thoughts were taking him, he suddenly equated being stranded with her with being in a torture chamber.
“A truce, huh?” Chris repeated her words.
“Yeah, something wrong with that?” she asked hatefully, her eyes spewing sparks.
Another long, long night ahead, Chris swallowed the words he was about to say. Then and there, he decided, no matter what the weather, he was going to find a way off that mountain, come hell or high water. Sooner rather than later.
“Nope, Laura, not a single thing,” Chris responded as he continued to eat his soup.
Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.
Chapter 14
Mavis swallowed several times, her mouth suddenly dry as a bone. Lord, she thought, that is not a word I should be thinking of right now. Ida’s face turned ten shades of white, her hands trembled like leaves in a windstorm, and she appeared utterly confused. Mavis cleared her dry throat, trying to sum up the situation.
“He’s dead, Ida. All you have to do is touch him. See?” Hesitantly, Mavis touched Mr. Frank’s foot. “He’s as cold as an ice cube.”
Ida looked at Mavis, then at Mr. Frank’s private part, which stood at rigid attention. At a loss for words, she pointed to his ... problem. Finding her voice, Ida whispered, “Then how, what is ... that?”
In her studies, Mavis had heard of the condition but never expected to encounter such a problem. She spoke again, but with more authority. They were professionals, just as Ida had reminded her. “Though unusual, it’s not unheard of.” Mavis tried to recall verbatim the words she’d read. “It’s called a terminal erection, or priapism. I remember reading this because ... well, I have to admit I thought of you when I read about it.” She paused, waiting for Ida to let loose on her. When nothing happened, she continued. “It’s seen in corpses who’ve been executed, particularly those who died by hanging. I won’t go into the technicalities of it, but I do remember reading about this condition when we were studying in San Francisco.”
Ida stepped away from the marble table. Fearful she was about to faint or something, Mavis hurried to her side and placed a hand on her shoulder. “I can do this myself, Ida. Why don’t you call Sophie, tell her to take you back to the beach house. I’ll take care of this poor man.” Knowing her skills with death makeup weren’t quite as well developed as Ida’s, Mavis would still do anything to spare her friend from regressing back to the fearful woman she used to be.
Ida shook her head, her hot pink hair the only bit of color in the sterile room. “Just give me a few minutes. I’m fine. Just a bit ... stunned.”
Quite shocked herself, Mavis knew it wasn’t the time to show her feelings. The poor man had taken his own life. It was such a shame to have one’s last viewing be one of utter humiliation. Though she’d read about the causes of this terrible ... affliction, for the life of her she couldn’t recall the cure. Several horrid images came to mind, and she quickly brushed them aside.
It suddenly occurred to her that Sophie was a registered nurse, so she would know what to do. Without another word to Ida, Mavis stepped away, allowing her friend a few minutes of privacy to collect herself. She dialed Sophie’s cell-phone number, hoping she was finished with her tarot reading.
Sophie answered on the first ring. “Yes?”
Immediately, Mavis picked up on Sophie’s mood. “Has something happened? You don’t sound like yourself.”
“I’m okay, just nothing I want to talk about right now. Are you finished with your stiff?”
Oh dear, Mavis thought, if she only knew, she would not use that word. She couldn’t help but smile, then chastised herself for making fun of the dead. She was sure she would be punished for her wicked thoughts.
“Actually, we haven’t even started. I think we might need your advice.”
“I don’t see how I can help, but go for it.” Sophie sounded more like herself with each word.
Mavis tried to moisten her dry mouth but couldn’t. She swallowed several times, knowing this was her body’s way of telling her she was nervous. “I think you need to see our ... problem. It’s quite ... a delicate one.”
“I don’t even want to know. Give me twenty minutes, and I’ll be there. Make sure you’re waiting outside for me. I don’t want to go traipsing around a damned funeral parlor. Not now, especially after tonight’s experience.”
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Mavis asked.
“I’ll live.”
“I’ll be waiting for you out front in twenty minutes.” Mavis hit the END button on her cell phone.
Ida remained in a state of semishock, still rooted to the floor. Mavis had to clear her throat rather loudly to get Ida’s attention.
“Good grief! Is there something caught in your throat?” Ida asked, finally snapping out of her stupor.
“No, I just spoke with Sophie. I’ll be right back,” Mavis said quickly, then raced up the stairs, leaving Ida alone with the deceased and his problem. It probably wouldn’t be a good idea to tell Ida what she had in mind.
Ever thankful for her smaller physique, Mavis hurried down the long hall, heading for the exit. Outside, the evening air was warm and a slight breeze lifted the ends of her hair away from her neck. She was very glad to have a few minutes away from the chilled room with the corpse and his terminal
erection.
Minutes later, Sophie careened into the parking lot, making the tires squeal as she turned sharply into a parking spot. Mavis smiled. Only Sophie would make a grand entrance at a funeral parlor and live to tell about it.
Sophie jumped out of the Escalade. Pale and winded, she found Mavis at the entrance. Sophie placed a hand over her chest. “I need to ease off the cigarettes.”
“You need to stop, yes,” Mavis agreed, “but we’ll discuss your nasty habit later. Right now we have a problem.” She entered the funeral parlor, motioning for Sophie to follow her. “This is something you need to see,” she added.
Sophie didn’t utter a single word as she followed Mavis down the hallway. She was still trying to understand what her vision meant and how it pertained to Chris and the missing actress. When Mavis had called asking for her help, she’d been more than happy for the distraction. Still unnerved from her vision, she remained silent, deciding she would keep to herself what she had seen until she figured exactly what it meant.
They walked down a narrow staircase, stopping at the bottom of the stairs, where a large door stared back at them. Mavis pushed the door aside, allowing Sophie to enter in front of her.
The odors of sulfur and iron assaulted Sophie as she stepped fully into the chilled room. She gagged at the smell and was reminded of her earlier days, when she’d trained as a student nurse. A semester in the hospital’s morgue assured her she would not be applying for a position at any of the local hospitals. She placed her hand over her mouth and nose. “This better be good,” she said, turning to look back at Mavis.
In the center of the room lay a large marble table with a dead body on top. A bright white sheet covered the body, but Sophie noticed a rise in the center of the sheet. Almost like a tent, just smaller. “What do we have here?” she asked as she inched closer to the table.
Ida was sitting on top of several cardboard boxes in the corner of the room. Her expression was a million miles away. Sophie stepped away from the body, stopping to stand in front of Ida. She snapped her fingers in front of her eyes. “What is wrong, Ida? Are you going into germ mode again?”
Sophie snapped her fingers a second time. Ida jerked her head to attention, blinking rapidly as though she’d just come out of a trance.
Back in the moment, Ida spoke up, “What are you doing here?”
Sophie, relishing her role as a smart-ass, placed a hand on her hip, and pointed at the slab in the center of the room. “You tell me.”
Mavis rushed to stand beside Ida. “I called her. She’s a nurse, Ida, remember? She’ll know what to do about Mr. Frank’s ... issue.” Mavis said the last word in a whisper.
Bouncing up on her feet like an angry feline, Ida huffed. “I can’t believe you brought her into this ... mess. You know we’ll never live this down!”
“Okay, now I’m really intrigued,” Sophie said, suddenly thrilled for Mavis and Ida’s dilemma as it took her away from her own.
“We might as well show her, Ida. We don’t have that much time left. We said three hours, remember?”
Ida nodded and walked over to the marble table. Before anyone had a chance to comment, she whisked the sheet off the dead man as though it were a cape and she a matador facing an aroused bull.
Sophie edged over to stand next to Ida. Her eyes went straight to Mr. Frank’s problem. Her mouth fell open, and she cracked a grin as wide as the table in front of her. “I’ve heard of this, but I’ve never seen it before.” She gazed at the man’s problem area, then turned to Ida. “I can’t believe you didn’t take matters into your own hands, you know, take care of this?” She nodded at Mr. Frank. “I take it he tried to kill himself?”
“He did kill himself, Sophie,” Ida said.
Shivering in the ice-cold room, Sophie nodded. “You know what I mean; I know he succeeded, that much is obvious. I just assumed ... well never mind what I assumed. This postmortem condition isn’t as uncommon as you think. I won’t go into the medical details, but think of blood engorging in the lower extremities.” Sophie watched Ida for a response, but it was actually Mavis who spoke up. Always kind and softhearted, she teared up.
“Oh that poor man! I imagine if he knew he would be ... aroused by hanging himself, he might have chosen another way to end his life,” Mavis said, her eyes full of unshed tears.
“I don’t care what he was thinking. We need to fix this, and fast,” Ida said, sounding more and more like her old self.
“Then you’d better glove up,” Sophie stated in a matter-of-fact tone of voice, but her eyes sparkled, and she could not prevent a trace of a smile from lifting her full lips upward. “This is going to get messy.”
Ida paused for a moment, then found a box of sterile gloves on the counter. She snapped them on and tossed a pair to Mavis.
“You want my help, pass a pair over here.” Sophie wasn’t one hundred percent sure what she could do, but she made the girls swear that whatever happened in that room would stay in the room. Kind of like what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.
To ensure their complete silence, Sophie asked them to gather around. “This warrants a secret handshake.” She waited for Ida or Mavis to refuse. When they didn’t, Sophie stepped back to the corner of the room, and stripped off her gloves. Ida and Mavis followed suit. Without another word, Sophie placed one of her hands out, then Ida and Mavis followed. When they had their hands piled on top of each other, they whispered loudly, “When you’re good, you’re good!”
They’d been doing the secret handshake for more than fifty years, and it still had the power to link them together, forever, all their secrets protected by the simple childish act they’d discovered as children.
The three women surrounded the marble table. Sophie stood at the center of the table, with Ida at the head and Mavis at the foot. Out of respect for his condition, Mavis had covered Mr. Frank’s issue with the sheet before they’d stepped away to do their secret handshake.
Without another word, Sophie whisked the sheet off the body like it was a magic cape. Seeing the man’s neck covered in eggplant purple, sea green, and the red marks where the rope had burned his neck, she placed the sheet on his upper torso, hiding the wounds. Taking her cue from Ida, who’d whisked a few tools off her makeup table, Sophie eyeballed the instruments. Seeing a small scalpel-like tool, she reached for it.
“This is going to be ugly, so I wouldn’t look if you’re the least bit squeamish,” Sophie said.
“Considering what we do, I think we’re both beyond squeamish right now, right, Mavis?” Ida asked.
“Of course,” Mavis answered sweetly.
Sophie took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and intoned a quick prayer. I can do this, she thought. I can’t let the girls know the thought of slicing a man’s dick off isn’t as pleasing as I’d sometimes imagined it would be. She told herself to pretend the man was Walter. To think of all those times he’d smacked her around, the time he’d broken her arm, and the hundreds of times his drunkenness had humiliated her.
Letting out the breath she’d been holding, she replaced her gloves and secured the small steel scalpel in her right hand. With her left hand, she reached for the corpse’s engorged body part, and, without further ado, made a small cut where no one would see. When nothing happened, Sophie looked to Ida.
“Can you finish him off?” she asked with a grin.
Ida’s eyes doubled in size. “Why ... how dare ... you are a true bitch, Sophie Manchester.”
Mavis watched the exchange between the two. “I’ll do it if you’ll tell me what I need to do.”
Sophie and Ida looked at one another and burst out laughing. “Never mind,” Sophie said. “I’ll take care of this.” She placed the scalpel back on the tray, grabbed the man’s uncooperative part in her left hand, then squeezed.
Blood and urine and something else no one wanted to put a name to oozed out of the man’s privates, which deflated like a balloon. Sophie reached for a handful of gauze, soaked up the fluids, then
dropped the man’s limp organ like a live grenade. She snapped off her gloves, tossed them in a bin behind her, then washed her hands at the small sink.
“Anything else, girls?” Sophie asked, as though it was something she did on a daily basis.
Mavis shook her head, and Ida rolled her eyes, saying, “I know I’ll hear about this for the next fifty years.”
“Only if you live long enough,” Sophie added, smiling.
“That’s it?” Mavis asked. “I thought there was more to the procedure.”
“If there is, I’m not aware of it. And something tells me your stiff doesn’t care whether there is or not, either,” Sophie had to add.
“That’s enough of your filth, Sophie. We have a job to do. You’re welcome to stay and watch; otherwise, shut up and sit down,” Ida said in an authoritative tone.
“This is your and Mavis’s gig. I’ll sit, thankyouverymuch.” Sophie plopped herself down on the boxes in the corner while Mavis and Ida went to work.
Two hours later, the rope marks on Mr. Frank’s neck were hidden and his issue was neatly tucked away in an adult diaper. He wore one of the suits from Mavis’s Drop-Dead Gorgeous line of clothing. Ida’s skill with makeup was undeniable, and the suit looked as though it had been custom-made for him.
No doubt about it, Mavis and Ida had found their niche.
Chapter 15
“Mom, you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Abby said. “Oops, forget I even said that; of course you have seen a ghost. More than once. You look terrible!”
Toots’s mind was whirling with possibilities. She needed a minute to put them together. She pulled her chair out from beneath the kitchen table and sat down. “Abby, get me a glass of water, please.”
Abby did as requested. “I heard a phone ringing, not your usual ring tone, Mom. What’s going on?”
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