Hell with the judge. He's in cahoots with Saucier.” Blackwell marched to the rear of the building to stand before the narrow pull-out coolers.
You open them, Ralph, or I will.”
I'm not touching those seals, Les, and you'd better not either. Go on home, Les. Forget it and I will. I'm warning you; don't do it.”
Warning me, Ralph?” Blackwell glared at the man, detecting a note of . . . something he had never heard from the owner of the funeral home.
That sounds very much like a threat to me. Where do
you
get off threatening
me?”
Ralph remained silent, only his eyes flashing danger!
I thought so.” Blackwell falsely read cowardice from the silence. He reached out and jerked off the paper seals. He opened Paul Breaux's cooler, then Guy's temporary home for dead studs with the ultimate cockâwhich no one had been able to find. Disappointed even in death.
Blackwell paled, fought back sudden nausea. The bodies, at the request of the judge and Sheriff Saucier, had not been reconstructed. The coolers were full of bits and pieces of human bodies and little piles of organs and entrails.
Oh, my God!” Blackwell hissed, wiping his dry lips with the back of his hand. He could see bite marks on the larger chunks of human flesh.
I've got to get to a phone, got to call this in to AP. What a story!” He turned, conscious of Ralph staring at him. Strangely. The eyes of the men touched across the distance. The mortician always did have funny-looking eyes. Yellow-tinged. Kind of like an animal's.
What the hell is your problem, Ralph?”
Who are you going to call, Les?”
The Associated Press, if it's any of your businessâwhich it isn't.”
Have all kinds of people prowling around in here, huh, Les? Creating all sorts of problems for something that never meant anybody any harm.”
Ralph, what are you babbling about? Are you drunk? Been smelling formaldehyde to get high? That's a cheap thrill.” He laughed at his humor. He felt better. What a story this would be! Might even win him the Pulitzer. Honor and glory and money, for sure.