Read Online An Arm and a Leg by Olive Balla - Free Book Online Page B

facility for cleaning.
    Various body parts lay on the table in front of one cutter. Two arms and a leg rested side by side along one edge of the table, mutely awaiting their turn under the knife. The cutter’s blade skillfully flashed over a partially skinned head from which the eyeballs had already been harvested.
    On the other table lay a complete human cadaver, as yet untouched. The second cutter retrieved a long-bladed butcher knife from a pile of instruments of various sizes and shapes with which he expertly removed the corpse’s arm at the shoulder joint. He whistled a tuneless melody as he moved around the table to do the same with the other arm.
    At some point, one of the cutters would retrieve the leftover bones to which bits of flesh still adhered. He would wire a metal tag etched with specimen data to each bone and put it into a plastic bin for transport down the hall to the Colony.
    In the Colony area, the cutter would place the bones on a gray paper tray then cover the whole thing with moist paper towels. He would then introduce the bones to a colony of dermestid beetles. In less than a week, the flesh-eating insects would have completely cleaned the soft tissue from the bones, which would then be treated and sold to medical schools, research facilities, and medical practitioners for use in replacement surgeries.
    The whistling cutter, Hector Cordero, glanced at his watch. Time for his lunch. His mouth watered at the thought of the handheld burrito his wife packed for him: pinto beans, carne adovada , queso , and red chile, all wrapped in a homemade tortilla made of masa .
    Hector sighed. At least he would try to enjoy his lunch. It was growing more and more difficult for him to enjoy anything these days. Ever since that cabrón Bellamy and his enforcer came to Hector’s modest home, his life had grown steadily less comfortable.
    The empty-eyed Bellamy was smooth, even courteous as he made his demands. But the other one, the one Hector referred to as El Dedo because of his disfigured little finger—that one had the unmistakable look of one to whom violence came easily.
    Before giving in to Bellamy’s demands, Hector had spent hours searching for a way out of his deal with the devil. He’d considered quitting his job at the hospital and finding other work. But his wages were better than any he’d had since coming to this country. And the health care benefits covered his little daughter Anna’s steep hospital and medical bills.
    Born and raised in the streets of Juarez, Hector had known some very bad men. But the way El Dedo had stared at his nine-year-old baby Anna made the hair on Hector’s neck stir and his insides turn to stone.
    That look had ensured Hector’s compliance.
    And now he was in too deep. If the law found out about his role in this ugly business, Hector would go to prison, leaving his family unprotected.
    A man of abiding and optimistic faith, Hector prayed every morning and every night to the Blessed Virgin for intercession. But even as he prayed, he kept his eyes open for the opportunity to quit his dance with the devil. He didn’t doubt for one minute that Our Lady would present such an opportunity when the time was right.
    Hector stuffed the last bite of burrito into his mouth. He licked the red chiles’ liquid fire off his fingers, washed his hands, and went back to work.
    ****
    Her morning can-counting ritual completed, Frankie retrieved the business card Nick Rollins had given her. She punched the number into her phone. A woman answered on the fifth ring and identified herself as the dispatch operator for the Colfax County Sheriff’s Department.
    “This is Frankie O’Neil. May I speak to Deputy Nick Rollins please?”
    “He’s in the field. But if you’ll leave your number and a message, I’ll see that he gets it. He’s good about returning calls.”
    “Would you please tell him to call me?” Frankie repeated the number in case the deputy had misplaced it.
    “Wait a