Father of the Deceased

by Egon Grimes

  Chuck Nagel did always have a thing and Lou knew it. Chuck Nagel had bested Lou all through high school track meets and swim meets and science fairs and just about any other competition up until graduating year. Luckily for Lou, they went to different colleges—of course Chuck went to a better one.

  A few years earlier, Chuck looked Lou up and found where he lived and out of the cold blue stopped by when Lou was waxing his pride and joy. He pulled in, in his brand new Mercedes Series-6 AMG roadster style coupe into the driveway. It sparkled and glistened in the hot sun.

  Denise, being a sucker for luxurious things and poor at hiding it, flew out the door all too excitedly to meet Lou’s friend, a higher class friend, one who wasn’t a cop, one who didn’t come home with fifty-dollar anniversary gifts. Lou tried his damndest to play busy, but Denise would have nothing of it and invited the man in for lemonade. They talked for hours about Chuck’s wanderlust and his wallet fat enough to permit it. The subject came around to a wife. Denise steering convo. Seemed Mrs. Nagel died of cancer only a year before. Oh how the tears did roll. Chuck buried his head into Denise’s welcoming chest until he sufficiently moistened them with his tears and then hurried from the home as if embarrassed.

  Later, Chuck would stop by, uninvited of course, to lend a hand as to where money should go or to give ideas on life insurance. Denise pulled up a chair and sucked in the little leftover baby fat to have a listen and stare into a better life than Lou could afford.

  Fuck Chuck Nagel.

  “You cunt whore bitch!” Lou shouted and then hung up the phone.

  He went back into the room, his face red and his internal temperature reaching core meltdown stage, he looked at Rhoda who was still giving Moe the business over the phone.

  “You know you can’t just do whatever yo—!”

  “Give me that.” Lou took the phone. “I’ll figure this out,” he said to Rhoda. She nodded.

  “Moe, think you can catch this guy?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Let’s go get him then.”

  “I don’t know where I am. The girl freaks out. I think it happens when we get too far from whoever controls her. Strange shit. That’s how it was the first time, it’s different this time.”

  “Rhoda says you’re in Vaughan. Can you wait there a bit?”

  “I guess, so long as Alice doesn’t start screaming again. This shit in her is taking her right sideways.” Maurice knocked on the door while he spoke to Lou. “Hey Alice!” he yelled through the door. “Look, I’ll call you back in a while, something’s wrong with the girl.”

  “Right. I’ll head toward you. I mean we’ll head toward you. Me and your wife.”

  “Good then I can send Rhoda back in the Jeep and we can put some Miles on your precious baby.”

  “Talk to you once we get closer.” Lou grinned at Rhoda.

  She was pissed. “What the fuck?”

  “I just said that stuff. We will go, pick him up and go home.”

  This satiated her. Though she was wise enough to never fully trust Lou.

  42

  The flight from London to Toronto was strange and disgusting. The connecting flight to Timmins was the worst hour of Ivan’s life. There had been a woman with heavy whiskers on her chin and above her lip. Her bush was nappy and stank like sun-baked trout.

  Luckily, it was a very short flight.

  43

  Rhoda and Lou got back on the road. Lou’s mind was a mess, he wanted to get to Vaughan take get some deserved comfort from his partner and best friend. Really, he wanted to get right pissed and cry into a glass.

  A little ways out of London, Lou wheeled the car onto a service road and settled with an Ultramar. It was an older station used mainly by truckers. His little Toyota looked a little out of place amidst the dust and concrete. The bell dinged and the kid behind the till accepted his VISA.

  He didn’t make it back to the highway before he heard a wheeze and then felt a thump. It grew louder and just before getting to on-ramp. “Sonofabitch,” he said and he stopped to assess the damage.

  Rhoda fumed when she had to get out; standing on the side of the road, the sun beat down on her and progressed her anger. “Will you hurry up?”

  “It’s a flat, it’s not my fault.” Lou glared into his trunk, the spare was flat and one of those fuck my life moments surfaced. “I have to t get a patch.”

  “Why don’t you just use the spare?”

  “Spare’s flat. I popped it last summer after I…forget it. I’ll be back as fast as I can. Or you can come,” Lou said.

  Rhoda stamped her foot like a little girl, texted Maurice, and then followed Lou’s dusty trail back to the service station.

  The shop next to Ultramar was dirty and on the only two waiting room chairs, raggedy old cats sat—fat ones. She tried to shoo one away, but it hissed, cocking back its paw in the process. Rhoda attempted a second swat and the cat batted its paw at her.

  “Don’t mind her, she won’t hurt ya, we got her declawed when she was a kitten,” said a voice from behind a counter. “You here with the man with the tire problem?”

  Rhoda pushed the cat. It connected several times with its pillow-like paws. A big stain ran over the surface of the padded steel chair. “Yes,” she said, thinking of trying her luck with the other cat on the other chair.

  “The patches can take a while to seal off the problem. You don’t want to be back in a shop thirty-K down the road fixing it again.”

  The cat glowered at Rhoda from the floor. Lou entered the little office and a low ding sounded in the garage just beyond a door behind the woman behind the desk.

  “Said it’ll take sixty-five minutes to cure right,” Lou said walking toward Rhoda.

  “Can’t you just buy another tire?” Rhoda asked who’d gone from angry to dirty-feeling and angry.

  “Those aren’t normal tires on normal rims, they cost me a bundle and I’ve got a guy that sells them to me at cost…have to order them in anyway.” He picked up the other twelve-pound cat, taking its seat, and then setting the cat on his lap.

  It didn’t seem to notice the change in surface.

  “Cheap-ass,” Rhoda said.

  “Fine. Do you have any low profile two-twenty-five…?”

  As Lou spoke the lady behind the counter was already shaking her head.

  “We do have complimentary coffee if you’d like, while you wait.” The woman pointed over to a K-Cup machine in the corner. “That thing is great. The coffee never gets stale or burnt in the machine and it’s ready in just a minute.” She spoke proudly, as if she’d invented the damned thing.

  Rhoda sighed. “Do you want a coffee?”

  Lou stroked the fat cat on his lap. “Yeah, I’ll take one of those hazelnut deals.” He looked at the woman behind the counter, he could only see from her nose up and gave her a wink. “If you don’t mind; two sugars, two creams.”

  “Powder white fine?” Rhoda asked tapping her hand on the greasy counter as the machine gurgled and bubbled.

  “Yeah-huh,” Lou said still looking at the woman behind the counter.

  Being a newly free man, free for real this time, all sorts of women became appealing. Stupid. Those are some pretty low standards, even for you, Lou thought, shaking his head with a little laugh as the horny-haze lifted.

  “What’s so funny?” Rhoda had his cup.

  “Nothing, I just thought of a funny video someone sent me.” Lou accepted and sipped.

  It was so hot he could barely hold it. He sat it down on the little table in front of the chairs. The cat didn’t care for all the movement and leapt off his lap. Lou watched it scurry under the table and toward Rhoda. She had just put another cup into the machine when the cat jumped onto the counter and pawed entry into an overhead cupboard.

  —

  Back on the road. Those two cruel words Denise uttered floating through his head as he drove, he never noticed the car following since they’d left Indiana. The sound of Rhoda badgering and bickering l
ike a noisy little parrot…his anger held only at bay, yet beginning to simmer and boil. The signs for highway-400 began popping up.

  Rhoda shot off a text message, but Maurice didn’t respond.

  Finally, a sign stated that the next exit lead to Barrie, meaning Vaughan, and others. His GPS did the navigating. He floored it, feeling a little rush of hope. He needed a drink and hoped to end this seemingly never-ending flow of banter from his co-pilot’s trap. The highway was busy and the center three lanes weren’t going quite quickly enough for a woman in Dodge Ram. She wheeled out into the far left lane, a space Lou’s Toyota had already claimed and the big trailer hitch hanging out the back screeched along Lou’s bumper. It wasn’t so bad, Lou’s car would have made it through the ordeal, but she slammed her brakes and then Lou slammed into her. The trailer hitch punctured the Toyota’s radiator. Coolant spilled. A punctured rad…not so bad, not really, but that wasn’t all. His well waxed hood crunched and folded back. Flakes of paint flicked off and snowed down. Fluids of every color of the acid junkie’s rainbow began to pour: florescent green, dark purple, light blue, and crimson red. At the back end, things weren’t much better. Every window smashed into a series of hunks, lining the seats. The backseat really wasn’t there anymore. The car behind Lou’s Toyota was ruined, a tiny Geo, if it was something bigger, the Supra-3 would’ve had a closer view of the asphalt. The car behind the Geo managed to swing into one of the center lanes.

  As well as snap off a couple photos as he passed on a point and click camera.

  —

  Neil took a heavy breath, his heart thumped, and he felt fortune shining over him, getting shots and managing to survive. Still, he pulled over, taking a chance on getting ahead of the thing.

  Neil parked in front of the truck and ran back, passing the Dodge and its goofy eyed driver. “Are you all right?” he asked in through Lou’s window.

  Lou looked over to Rhoda. Both were in shock, accidents happen quickly.

  “Hey’o, you breathin’ in there?”

  “What?” Lou pushed against the door; it didn’t want to open.

  “Where were you off to?”

  “Vaughan,” Rhoda said rubbing her neck. “But we don’t know where. How come?”

  “Is that where Maurice Genner is?” Neil asked.

  “My husband,” Rhoda said, sounding almost drunk.

  “Who the hell you?” Lou bounced his shoulder off the door.

  By the time his body spilled out onto the hot asphalt, Neil was gone. In his car, Neil fiddled with the pile of garbage, a jerky bag, a newspaper, a soiled note pad and the remnants of a Red Bull case, to find his cell phone. Over the past few days, he’d called only a handful of numbers, three touching Chester, one to a Chinese joint playfully called Egg Foo Yum, and Domino’s Pizza.

  On the fourth ring Chester spoke, “You got Chester.”

  “Chester, Neil. So this just keeps going. The partner and the Genner woman just totalled dude’s car.”

  “Are they dead?” It sounded almost as if his mouth watered.

  “No, but I ran up and asked where they were headed,” Neil said.

  “So they know who you are? Did they tell you?”

  “Vaughan.”

  “Where in Vaughan?” Chester’s voice blew cold breath through Neil’s earpiece.

  “They didn’t say, but following them kept me behind everything, I know it!”

  “You stupid ass,” Chester muttered. “How do you plan on finding him in a fucking city?”

  “I’m not sure really, but I figure if the story is worth continuing on, it will draw me in. I doubt he’s much off the highway anyway.”

  “That’s insane!”

  “Calm down, either I find him or I come home, but if there is a story he’ll make a stink and I want to be closer when it happens, get it? Right now I’m just on the tail end of everything and I think something crazy is going down up here. Trust me.”

  “You screw this up and you know what’ll happen?”

  “No hookers?”

  “No nothing, you’ll be lucky if I let you format photos. Now find him or else.”

  Before Neil had a chance to reply, Chester dropped the call.

  The GPS on his dash directed him to take the next ramp. After a few minutes of driving, he came to Vaughan and quickly made his way through, no good. It wasn’t some puissant town like he’d hoped. It was a goddamned city. The likelihood of stumbling on Maurice was downright laughable.

  44

  After getting no response, Maurice threw his shoulder against the dirty bathroom door. It clicked open easily. Fine grime covered the entire room, the paint had long lost its lustre, the mirror cracked, and a sticky brownish film coated the floor around the toilet, around Alice. The entirety of her head dipped below the bowl.

  “Alice?”

  She didn’t move. The way her twisted legs propped up against the wall and the sink gave an unnerving twitch. She looked dead.

  “Alice, Alice you still…?” Maurice placed a firm hand on the girl’s shoulder, she didn’t move. He tugged on her shoulder, hoping she’d awake and sit up, but nothing. He pulled harder. “My shit,” he muttered and back stepped hard against the closed door.

  When Maurice lifted the shoulder far enough to bring Alice’s head above the bowl, her face had gone purple like a strangled teen corpse from a crime drama. Those eyes. Her eyes created the reaction. Shaking the girl ended what was a delicate equilibrium of liquid behind a shell. The eyes burst soundlessly, or at least quietly enough, and an oatmeal-like mush poured from her sockets and dripped into the toilet.

  Maurice no longer had a guide.

  Two, three, five, ten minutes passed like seconds while Maurice thought. A knock at the door behind him shattered his thread thin grasp over the situation. Another knock. He turned his head to the doorknob above his head.

  “North, go north,” a low voice bubbled from toward the toilet.

  Whipping his head around he faced Alice, her body no longer limp, but attempting to stand. Her legs wobbled and raised, streaks of liquefied eyeball ran down her cheeks and blood dripped from her purple lips.

  “You have to go north,” Alice said, her feet dragging closer to Maurice, her arms dangling by her sides.

  Maurice shrieked and the knocking rallied harder against the door behind him. He fumbled to his feet. Alice’s arms stretch out to touch him. Her hands burned on his skin, he could smell her insides. The scent singed at his nostrils, his hand spun at the inward opening door. He attempted to step aside and—but Alice’s hands wrapped around his arms. She gargled more and spat a mess of blood and bile onto his face inadvertently. Fear drove Maurice wild, he couldn’t register what he saw, feeling only a threat, the threat of death taking to life and engulfing him where he stood. He held his breath against the putrid smell.

  “I gotta pee,” shouted a young feminine voice from outside the door.

  Maurice punched his fist in Alice’s face, caving her left cheek. Shards of brittle bone stuck to his knuckles amidst globs of slimy fluid.

  Ugh, no, no, he thought and then, Please shove at the door, little girl. He attempted to yell for help, but nothing came. The girl finally shoved hard against the door. It opened a few inches, but the pressure from the other side kept it closed. Maurice gasped for oxygen, sweet beautiful oxygen that poured into the crack.

  The girl shoved again. “I gotta pee!”

  A little more oxygen and a bright shine blasted through the crack. This time, Alice stumbled backward, fluids splashing around inside her purple body. Maurice took his chance and shoved with all he had left, Alice fell and Maurice toppled over her. The door shot open, whatever held Alice together had disappeared and left nothing more than a rushing splash onto the floor.

  The girl screamed at the sight and tore away. Maurice jumped up and followed suit, dripping with the sticky, stinking fluids. The smell was everywhere. Spitting out Alice and sprinting toward his Jeep, he recognized, briefly, that he was leaving
the scene of a crime.

  Getting away, he headed north.

  Clearing the city’s edge while deep in thought, Maurice kept his eyes trained on the passing nature, hoping to spot an unattended waterway, a stream, a river, anything. Avoiding attention had become his biggest priority.

  His phone began to ring in his pocket. He looked down at his bloodied leg, already beginning to crust over his pocket and reached in to take the call.

  “Hello.”

  “We were just in an accident. Lou wrecked his car. Actually, some stupid woman wrecked his car, but it’s one great big—”

  “Are you hurt?”

  “No and neither is Lou, but I think he is pretty broken up about his car. Are you still in Vaughan?”

  “Umm, no, I had to leave, something happened,” Maurice said readying himself for an earful.

  “Good, some guy pulled up next to us and asked where you were and, I don’t know why I did it, but I told the guy you were in Vaughan. I guess I must have figured he was a cop or something. I hope he isn’t looking to hurt you,” Rhoda said as she picked at the chipped polish on her fingernails.

  “Doesn’t matter as long as he wasn’t with the police. You sure everything is all right?”

  “Yeah, Lou said his insurance will pay for the rental car. So if you aren’t in Vaughan where are you? Did you head back south?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “I have to keep going. If you saw what I’ve seen, you wouldn’t question me. And, don’t take it to your head that I’ve gone loopy, I questioned that myself, but everything is too weird even for an imagination.”