is on top of your friend. Now what?â Elva asked, moving as far away as possible from the ironing board.
âGet everything together. We ainât coming back here ever again. Take all the food and then clean up this mess.â He gestured to the pool of blood under the table. âMake damn sure you do a good job. First thing Iâll take down to the camper is the TV.â
âCudge, I hate blood. It makes me sick. I canât do it!â
âYouâre going to do it and youâll do it now, before I punch a hole in that thing you call a head. Move it!â
âI always get the shitty jobs,â Elva protested as she kicked at a filthy dish towel. With the toe of her shoe she picked up the rag and dropped it into a supermarket grocery bag. The towel was so threadbare it barely soaked up any of the blood. Not wanting to be alone with Lenny in the kitchen, she raced to the bathroom and waited till Cudge came back into the apartment. A roll of toilet paper in her hand, she walked back to the dingy kitchen. She unrolled the sheets and wiped the mess up with her foot. Satisfied that the blood had been wiped up, she poured a glass of water on the floor and repeated her actions. It was kinda sad, she thought, one roll of toilet paper was all it took to wipe up a manâs life.
âYou got everything?â Cudge asked belligerently.
Elva was tossing food from the refrigerator into a paper bag. âShould I take the eggs?â
He rolled his eyes. âYes, you should take the eggs,â he mimicked. âTake everything. Come on, we ainât got all night. Weâll take him down first, but I want to make sure the coast is clear. I left the back of the camper openâall we have to do is stuff him in.â
Elva gritted her teeth before picking up her end of the ironing board. âWait! We have to put the detergent and softener on top to make it look real.â
âChrist, Elva, we ainât really going to the laundry. Leave the damn stuff.â
Elva was not to be deterred. The detergent and fabric softener were plopped on top of Lennyâs stomach. Halting abruptly in mid stride, Elvaâs voice was a high-pitched stuttering squeak. âYou canât, you just canât . . . We have to spray him with something.â
Cudgeâs fists were white-knuckled tight. âWhy?â
Elva gulped. âBe-because heâll smell. Dead bodies smell. They start to . . . to rot or something. Iâm telling you what to doâI didnât say I knew what to use,â she blurted. Her toothache was pounding away like a trip hammer.
Cudge stared at Elva. His voice was almost patient. âI ainât exactly planning on carrying Lenny around for very long. I donât think heâll have a chance to smell.â
âSoon as he gets stiff, heâll smell.â
Cudge hated the certainty in Elvaâs voice. âWe donât have anything around to spray him with. Come on, grab your end.â
âWhat about . . . what about the mothballs in the bottom of the sink? Thatâs enough to kill any kind of smell. You could stick some in Lennyâs coat pockets.â
It was evident to Elva that Cudge was going to go along with her idea by the way his gaze shifted to the bottom of the sink. She darted between the table and the body. Her skinny arm was trembling so badly that Cudge jerked the container of mothballs from her hand. âThis better work, you dizball.â
Elva backed away till she was standing in the dingy living room. Cudge sneezed four times in rapid succession as he stuffed the white pellets into Lennyâs pockets. âOkay, heâs preserved now. You got any more crazy ideas, now is the time to spit âem out. I ainât planning on touching him again. Letâs go. Get back over hereâyou think I can do this myself?â
Elva advanced one step then backed up two. âI canât, Cudge, I just canât do
Cara Colter
Nora Roberts
Hallee Bridgeman
Wanda E. Brunstetter
Erin Bowman
Victorine E. Lieske
Elizabeth Berg
Eliza Gayle
Christopher Cummings
Dusty Richards