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The Cryo Killer
    Sales in the mornings.
Killings in the afternoons. We’re a small business, so I have to do
it all. I don’t like sales much. Most of the time I’m selling our
front – life insurance. But not today.
    The couple who walks in is young. Younger
than my usual. They don’t look a day over thirty. Her face is
bright. She scans the small office like it’s a chocolate shop.
Whole universes reflect in those eyes.
    “I’m here for the New Year Special,” she
says. Ten years ago I would’ve found that syrupy voice
irresistible. She takes the chair before I can offer it.
    The man on her arm is gray. Also young, but
he hobbles after her geriatric-like. Perches on the edge of his
seat and glares at us. Anxious.
    She’s used the pass phrase. The ‘New Year
Special’. I unlock the top drawer of my desk and confirm with her,
“Would that be the extended cover, or the starter package?”
    “Extended.”
    “Welcome,” I say, shaking their hands. His
is cold and rubbery. “… to Life Extensions Ltd. I’m Barker.”
    She smiles at me in a way that makes the
world feel a whole lot smaller. Pushes every thought I own into
that warm, wet place between her lips. She looks familiar.
Almost.
    “Have we met?”
    Her smile doesn’t falter. “I don’t think
so,” she says.
    I put on my kind face, as Janet calls
it.
    I feel Janet watching from her desk. It’s
just the two of us here at Life Extensions Ltd. She’s been with me
pretty much since the beginning. She does the bookings and the
admin. And I … well, I do everything else.
    It hadn’t taken long for Janet to work out
that I don’t really sell life insurance. Or at least, that’s not
the only service I offer. She hadn’t made a fuss of it, though. “I
don’t judge,” is all she’d say when pressed for her opinion. But
she’d clutched the cross hanging from her neck.
    “Thank you,” says the girl with the smile.
“Inesa, and this is my husband, Paul.”
    “Inesa and Paul, good to meet you. Who
referred you?”
    “Mr. Camfrey’s wife.”
    Paul’s hands are working. Picking at each
other. At the cuticles.
    “Ah yes, I was sorry to hear about his
passing.”
    “I think,” she lowers her voice, “that it
was professionally done. Heart attack, I hear.”
    I lean forward. “You’d like a similar
package, ma’am?”
    Paul speaks up for the first time. “Is it
quick?”
    If I had a penny for every time a client
asked me that question. “Painless,” I say, “or your money
back.”
    Paul harrumphs.
    “Excellent,” says Inesa, beaming. “You’ve
been doing this a while?”
    “Best in the business,” says Janet, striding
over to us. She places a hand on my shoulder. “You’re safe with
Barker.”
    “So, you’re wanting the double package?”
    Inesa squeezes her husband’s arm. Every
carat on her ring finger catches the sunlight. His nod is
miniscule.
    “Yes,” she replies after a moment.
    “Those are difficult.” I lean back in my
chair, weighing the ring out of the corner of my eye. “Coroner
looks closely at doubles. Need a plausible cause of death. Right
now all I have in stock are gas leaks and home invasions. Invasions
can get messy – brings down the property value. I suggest the gas
leak. Although …” I glance at Paul. “Home invasions are on the
rise.”
    Paul scratches the skin over his knuckles.
His lips have taken on a bluish tinge. I’ve seen all manner of
manners displayed in the chairs on the other side of my desk.
Clients respond to their impending deaths in all sorts of ways.
Paul’s reaction isn’t unique.
    “Gas leak,” says Inesa definitively.
    Paul nods, a quick jerk up and down.
“When’ll it happen?” He can’t meet my gaze.
    “I could probably fit you in next week. Any
preferences?”
    “I’m writing an exam on Tuesday,” says
Inesa. She looks to Paul, “And I’m sure you’d like to finalize that
merger?”
    He groans.
    “Late next week?” she asks.
    “Let’s see … Janet,