COFFINS FOR THE LIVING
High Price of Dying
The second of the killers, a mortician by profession was down on the floor by a blow he received from Bill Bates. He made no attempt to get up, lying on his back, gray coat covered in dust, hands plucking nervously at his gold watch-chain. The sixth sense that had deserted Klyne at their earlier encounter with the first killer was back, he bent down, and on an impulse ripped the jacket off, revealing a neat little pearl-handled pistol in a shoulder holster. With a thin smile he tugged it off and threw it in the corner.
“What a dangerous customer you are, Mister Shelton. Such a pretty little gun. Didn’t need that for your wife, did you? Long strong fingers you got there.” Klyne commented.
“What do you mean? Listen to me, I’m a rich man. And I know that what I did was wrong. But I’m prepared to pay anything if you’ll let me go. I…..did you truly kill Joe Nathan?”
“Really and truly, and thanks for the offer, but we’re not in the taking vein today. More in the giving.” Klyne said.
While Klyne watched the mortician Bates wondered round the big back room. There was a large vat of murky fluid in one corner, and several sections of pine coffins made up and in parts in another corner. On trestles in the middle of the floor was the grandest coffin that either of them had ever seen.
It was part wood and part bronze, with angels carved all over it, inter-woven with wreaths and tendrils of laurel. The inside was white silk with heavy padding. Bates leaned over it, rubbing his fingers over the soft interior of the lid.
“That is the damnedest coffin I ever saw. Looks more like the inside of a rich brothel. And who is the lovely little lady inside it?”
Keeping one eye on Shelton, Klyne walked over and joined his friend at the side of the enormous structure. The dazzling interior already held an occupant. A middle-aged lady. She was dressed in a high-necked dress of black silk.
“Looks like she is smiling a mite at us,” said Bates.
Klyne shook his head. “No. That just means that she’s about ready to go underground.”
“It’s been very hot the last few days, and the family wanted it left open as long as possible,” explained the mortician from the floor. “And please don’t lean on that. It’s finest quality silk, and the whole thing is costing the poor bereaved nearly eight thousand dollars.”
“High price of dying in this town,” whistled Bill Bates, rubbing his hand over the fabric.
“It is a special,” said Shelton, obviously irritated by what he took to be slight on his professional expertise.
“What’s it waiting for?” asked Klyne, wrinkling his nose at the strong scent of flowers placed in vases round the room. A necessary addition when he saw the deteriorating state of the body in the coffin. The eyeballs were already going milky and starting to rot.
“I’m here to close it down. Then my assistant will come back and tidy up ready for the shipment back east.”
“Suppose he finds it screwed down, and you gone? What’ll he do?” Klyne asked.
“I don’t understand.”
Klyne smiled at the puzzled expression on the little man’s face. “If you tighten it all down on that great ….thing. And if your assistant comes back from his dinner and you’re not here. What will he do?”
Shelton scratched his nose, looking bemused. “Well, I will still be here. But if I were not, then he would lock this door….I have strict rules on that. The departed is never to be left in an unlocked room. And then he would carry on with his work.”
“Where does he eat?” Klyne questioned him.
“I….I don’t understand.”
Klyne went over and kicked the undertaker hard in the pit of the stomach. The attack had been completely unexpected and Shelton made no move to protect himself. The air whooshed out of his lungs, and he doubled up, gasping for breath, retching and gagging.
“That makes you understand?” Klyne asked.
Bates
High Price of Dying
The second of the killers, a mortician by profession was down on the floor by a blow he received from Bill Bates. He made no attempt to get up, lying on his back, gray coat covered in dust, hands plucking nervously at his gold watch-chain. The sixth sense that had deserted Klyne at their earlier encounter with the first killer was back, he bent down, and on an impulse ripped the jacket off, revealing a neat little pearl-handled pistol in a shoulder holster. With a thin smile he tugged it off and threw it in the corner.
“What a dangerous customer you are, Mister Shelton. Such a pretty little gun. Didn’t need that for your wife, did you? Long strong fingers you got there.” Klyne commented.
“What do you mean? Listen to me, I’m a rich man. And I know that what I did was wrong. But I’m prepared to pay anything if you’ll let me go. I…..did you truly kill Joe Nathan?”
“Really and truly, and thanks for the offer, but we’re not in the taking vein today. More in the giving.” Klyne said.
While Klyne watched the mortician Bates wondered round the big back room. There was a large vat of murky fluid in one corner, and several sections of pine coffins made up and in parts in another corner. On trestles in the middle of the floor was the grandest coffin that either of them had ever seen.
It was part wood and part bronze, with angels carved all over it, inter-woven with wreaths and tendrils of laurel. The inside was white silk with heavy padding. Bates leaned over it, rubbing his fingers over the soft interior of the lid.
“That is the damnedest coffin I ever saw. Looks more like the inside of a rich brothel. And who is the lovely little lady inside it?”
Keeping one eye on Shelton, Klyne walked over and joined his friend at the side of the enormous structure. The dazzling interior already held an occupant. A middle-aged lady. She was dressed in a high-necked dress of black silk.
“Looks like she is smiling a mite at us,” said Bates.
Klyne shook his head. “No. That just means that she’s about ready to go underground.”
“It’s been very hot the last few days, and the family wanted it left open as long as possible,” explained the mortician from the floor. “And please don’t lean on that. It’s finest quality silk, and the whole thing is costing the poor bereaved nearly eight thousand dollars.”
“High price of dying in this town,” whistled Bill Bates, rubbing his hand over the fabric.
“It is a special,” said Shelton, obviously irritated by what he took to be slight on his professional expertise.
“What’s it waiting for?” asked Klyne, wrinkling his nose at the strong scent of flowers placed in vases round the room. A necessary addition when he saw the deteriorating state of the body in the coffin. The eyeballs were already going milky and starting to rot.
“I’m here to close it down. Then my assistant will come back and tidy up ready for the shipment back east.”
“Suppose he finds it screwed down, and you gone? What’ll he do?” Klyne asked.
“I don’t understand.”
Klyne smiled at the puzzled expression on the little man’s face. “If you tighten it all down on that great ….thing. And if your assistant comes back from his dinner and you’re not here. What will he do?”
Shelton scratched his nose, looking bemused. “Well, I will still be here. But if I were not, then he would lock this door….I have strict rules on that. The departed is never to be left in an unlocked room. And then he would carry on with his work.”
“Where does he eat?” Klyne questioned him.
“I….I don’t understand.”
Klyne went over and kicked the undertaker hard in the pit of the stomach. The attack had been completely unexpected and Shelton made no move to protect himself. The air whooshed out of his lungs, and he doubled up, gasping for breath, retching and gagging.
“That makes you understand?” Klyne asked.
Bates
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