Page 21 of Love vs The Ooze Monster!
“Basement.” Boyd guessed, already searching for a way down. “Why would Lew give his piss-ant nephew the organization and not you?” He seemed offended on her behalf.
“Oh, Lew gave it to me. But, the day after he died, Sly and his goons forced me out.” Her step-cousin was always surrounded by large armed men. He had too many enemies to ever be caught alone. He was stupid, but notthatstupid.
“And now Sylvester realizes he needs you to run it and is trying to get you back.” Boyd said grimly. “That’s why he sent me that letter, so I’d fire you. Why didn’t you fight him for control of the Irving Syndicate, in the first place?”
She shrugged. “Once I claim my inheritance, it’ll all be moot.”
Boyd shot her a brooding look, not satisfied with that answer. “Lew left me an inheritance, too. A copy ofThe Wonderful Wizard of Oz.”
“Yes, you told me.”
“Whydid he leave it to me? I have a feeling you know.”
Mabel looked around the dim interior of the funeral home, trying to find a door to the basement. Mostly it just seemed to be formal furnishings and stacks of handkerchiefs. “Lew was very fond of that book. He gave me a copy for my tenth birthday, when it was first published. He especially liked the wizard. Said he related to him.”
“I read that damn thing cover-to-cover, trying to figure out why he’d left it to me. The wizard’s a phony. He’s not really a wizard, at all.”
“Sure he is. He doesn’t have any magic, maybe. But everyone has faith in him, so he gets the job done just fine.”
A sudden cry of terror and pain echoed through the funeral home.
Mabel looked upward. “That’s not the basement.” It sounded like someone was running for their life on the floor above.
Boyd shifted slightly so he was standing in front of her, his eyes on the staircase.
“Stay away! Stay away! It wasn’t my fault!” Norris’ voice shrieked. “Nothing I put in the moonshine woulda killed anybody! Everything wasnormal. I added some formaldehyde, but that shoulda been okay. I’m almost sure of it! I only wanted to make some extra lettuce! I just wanted to be a gangster, like you guys…”
Gunshots sounded. The rapid, unmistakable sound of a Thompson submachine gun, spraying an area with bullets.
Mabel jolted.
“Move.” Boyd dragged her backwards into a large parlor, filled with display caskets. There were half a dozen different models, open and awaiting inspection. Boyd looked right and left, cursing when he didn’t see a ready hiding spot. “Damn funeral homes. You see why I don’t like them?” He pulled her towards the largest casket on display. It was heavy oak, with thick white cushions, and cost as much as a car. “In.”
“In where? A coffin?” She goggled at him. “I’m not getting in a coffin! Have you gone screwy?”
Not bothering to respond to that very relevant question about his mental health, he lifted her right off the ground and dropped her onto the satin interior. Then, he turned off his flashlight and he climbed in after her.
“Boyd!”
“Do you have a tommy gun in your purse?” He asked sarcastically.
“No, of course not. How could it possibly fit?”
“Exactly, so we’re staying out of sight.” He reached up to drop the top of the coffin down, hiding them from view. He wedged the end of the extinguished flashlight under the lid, as he settled it into place, ensuring they had enough air. It also allowed them to see out through the small crack.
Mabel found herself pressed beneath the weight of his powerful body. Which, okay, she didn’t mind. But the part where she was trapped in acoffin, she minded very, very much!
“Boyd, I don’t like small spaces.” She whispered fiercely. Her breathing was already too fast. “I can’t stay in here!”
“Shit.” She felt his eyes searching her face in the darkness. “Alright. Just let me think for…”
More gunshots.
“That’s the last time he fucks me over.” Sylvester’s voice declared. “This is what I get for working with an amateur.”
Boyd went still.
Mabel gasped, realizing her step-cousin had just shot Norris. She could see Sly’s blandly handsome face reflected in new flashlight beams, as he came down the stairs with half a dozen armed men.
