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Authors: A. M. Clarke
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them into the TV room.
‘Jesus H Christ, sorry Father, but bloody hell. What got into the girl?’
‘I don’t know Doctor, there was no note that I could see, but I didn’t really stay too long.’ Stephen shuddered at the now grey features of Jim. The body was starting to decompose and the smell was bearable, but it wouldn’t be for long.
‘The other one is upstairs in the bath, you said?’ Not waiting for a reply the Doc went off on his own.
‘All right buddy, not pleasant is it?’
‘What’s going on here Stephen? Gladys was such a happy soul, not homicidal or suicidal, not someone who could do this.’ Mike didn’t require an answer, and didn’t wait for one. He followed Dr Bell up the stairs to the second scene, dumbfounded at the sight of Gladys’s drained and wrinkled remains.
‘I’ve called the undertaker to collect the bodies; we can’t leave them here any longer. For Gods sake their beginning to smell.’ Dr Bell announced as he descended the stairs. ‘Take some pictures to show the police if necessary, but we simply cant wait. Gladys, bless her, will dissolve into soup if we leave her any longer.’
‘Thanks Doc, like I needed any more disturbing images in my head. But I get your graphic point. Ill take the pictures while we wait for the hearses, you can get on if you want.’
‘Yes, boils to lance and snotty children to de-mucus, you stay and have all the fun here, but Stephen, get Father Mike out of here as soon as possible. I don’t think he’s handling this too well. Right, I’m off.’
Stephen watched with a mixture of mild amusement and a little nausea. He was holding it together with his customary cynical and blaze sense of rational behaviour. He called to Mike, anxious to get him out of there, Dr Bell had spooked him good. He was worried about Mike, and had a sudden and intense need to get him away from this latest terrible horror.
With all the atrocities happening on his doorstep, and in Mikes own parish, Stephen sensed Mikes weakness, the ungodly and unexpected things that kept occurring, and the arrival of a seductress intent on appealing to his unknown and until now unwitting sexuality, could lead to Mikes celibate surrender.
Mike was understandably gun shy and barely coherent when Stephen extracted himself from the house. He kept mumbling The Hail Mary,
Over and over, Stephen wasn’t sure, if it was Gladys and Jim that he was praying for, or if he was praying for the sanctity of his own soul. After the third Hail Mary, he slapped Mike, hard, not easy to do when you’re driving, but it worked. Mike stopped, and after a few silent moments came around to himself.
‘Sorry mate, don’t know what came over me. That last one was my undoing. I don’t know how much more ugliness I can take. Every day seems to bring more bloody awfulness.’
‘I know Mike, Gladys was a friend, and its unbearable to see her and her husband like that, but, its happened and we have to deal with it. Losing the plot isn’t going to make things any better. I am going to take you back to mine, and you can keep Chequers company while I go to the funeral home to take care of the paperwork. Someone needs to sign off on the identity of the bodies.’
‘Did you know Jim?’
‘Not very well, just to say hi to and pass the time of day with. He wasn’t what you would call overly friendly, but Gladys made up for that. She sure was a fire cracker.’ Stephen’s voice cracked with emotion, and drove on in quiet reflection.
He dropped Father Mike off at his house, to the great delight of a lonely Chequers, and drove back to town, to Fox’s funeral home.
With a large slug from the whiskey flask he kept in the glove box, Stephen went inside the last place anyone wants to be. The entrance was lovely, filled with sweet smelling fresh flowers, interspersed with almost life like plastic ones. Mr Fox, a caricature of a cartoon character, led him through to the treatment room. And, it was no
‘Jesus H Christ, sorry Father, but bloody hell. What got into the girl?’
‘I don’t know Doctor, there was no note that I could see, but I didn’t really stay too long.’ Stephen shuddered at the now grey features of Jim. The body was starting to decompose and the smell was bearable, but it wouldn’t be for long.
‘The other one is upstairs in the bath, you said?’ Not waiting for a reply the Doc went off on his own.
‘All right buddy, not pleasant is it?’
‘What’s going on here Stephen? Gladys was such a happy soul, not homicidal or suicidal, not someone who could do this.’ Mike didn’t require an answer, and didn’t wait for one. He followed Dr Bell up the stairs to the second scene, dumbfounded at the sight of Gladys’s drained and wrinkled remains.
‘I’ve called the undertaker to collect the bodies; we can’t leave them here any longer. For Gods sake their beginning to smell.’ Dr Bell announced as he descended the stairs. ‘Take some pictures to show the police if necessary, but we simply cant wait. Gladys, bless her, will dissolve into soup if we leave her any longer.’
‘Thanks Doc, like I needed any more disturbing images in my head. But I get your graphic point. Ill take the pictures while we wait for the hearses, you can get on if you want.’
‘Yes, boils to lance and snotty children to de-mucus, you stay and have all the fun here, but Stephen, get Father Mike out of here as soon as possible. I don’t think he’s handling this too well. Right, I’m off.’
Stephen watched with a mixture of mild amusement and a little nausea. He was holding it together with his customary cynical and blaze sense of rational behaviour. He called to Mike, anxious to get him out of there, Dr Bell had spooked him good. He was worried about Mike, and had a sudden and intense need to get him away from this latest terrible horror.
With all the atrocities happening on his doorstep, and in Mikes own parish, Stephen sensed Mikes weakness, the ungodly and unexpected things that kept occurring, and the arrival of a seductress intent on appealing to his unknown and until now unwitting sexuality, could lead to Mikes celibate surrender.
Mike was understandably gun shy and barely coherent when Stephen extracted himself from the house. He kept mumbling The Hail Mary,
Over and over, Stephen wasn’t sure, if it was Gladys and Jim that he was praying for, or if he was praying for the sanctity of his own soul. After the third Hail Mary, he slapped Mike, hard, not easy to do when you’re driving, but it worked. Mike stopped, and after a few silent moments came around to himself.
‘Sorry mate, don’t know what came over me. That last one was my undoing. I don’t know how much more ugliness I can take. Every day seems to bring more bloody awfulness.’
‘I know Mike, Gladys was a friend, and its unbearable to see her and her husband like that, but, its happened and we have to deal with it. Losing the plot isn’t going to make things any better. I am going to take you back to mine, and you can keep Chequers company while I go to the funeral home to take care of the paperwork. Someone needs to sign off on the identity of the bodies.’
‘Did you know Jim?’
‘Not very well, just to say hi to and pass the time of day with. He wasn’t what you would call overly friendly, but Gladys made up for that. She sure was a fire cracker.’ Stephen’s voice cracked with emotion, and drove on in quiet reflection.
He dropped Father Mike off at his house, to the great delight of a lonely Chequers, and drove back to town, to Fox’s funeral home.
With a large slug from the whiskey flask he kept in the glove box, Stephen went inside the last place anyone wants to be. The entrance was lovely, filled with sweet smelling fresh flowers, interspersed with almost life like plastic ones. Mr Fox, a caricature of a cartoon character, led him through to the treatment room. And, it was no
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