Page 42 of Too Old for This

The thought of carving up Norma’s body gets me out of bed the next morning. No matter what else happens, the body needs to vanish. That’s nonnegotiable.

So much needs to be done after a murder. So many boring, mundane details can’t be skipped. Like the nonsense with the gadgets, the belongings, the car. It’s all tedious, and yet you cannot delay. The world almost moves too fast to get away with murder.

No wonder there are so few of us left. We’re dinosaurs.

Out in the garage, Norma is frozen solid. No leaking fluids, no bad smells. Her body is more palatable this way. I can take my time carving it up. The process has become meditative—the buzz of the chain saw, all those short, quick cuts. I stop only to wrap up the pieces in butcher paper.

But it wasn’t always this way. The first time was a disaster. I was anxious and nervous, and the body wasn’t fully frozen. Which I didn’t know until a spray of blood hit.

The second time was better. I learned to wear a safety shield. By the third time, I started to appreciate how fascinating it was to start with a body and turn it into something different. The final trick is making it disappear forever. Like it never existed.

One way or another, I suppose we all end up like that.

—

Ms.Marcia: Hope you enjoyed your visit to Tranquil Towers yesterday. Please let me know if you have any questions or if I can be of assistance .

Tom Wallace: Oak Manor is having an open house event tomorrow evening. If you’re interested in attending, I’ll make sure your name is on the guest list .

Sheila: Want to come over to try out some new recipes for Thursday?

I am so popular today. It would be flattering if two of the three weren’t trying to sell me something. Sheila, on the other hand, wants me to stop bringing store-bought snacks to bingo. She really needs another hobby. The crafting and cooking aren’t enough.

I imagine the police raiding my house, finding Norma’s cut-up body while I’m at Sheila’s making mini quiches.

Lottie: Sorry, can’t do it today .

Sheila: Fine .

But that’s not all. One more message is waiting.

Morgan: Did Archie talk to you yet? Please call when you have the chance .

She texted last night, too. I was a little busy with Norma, and I still am. Morgan isn’t my daughter-in-law yet, so she’ll have to wait a bit longer. I put on Norma’s jacket and a hat pulled down low, then head over to the Harmony Hotel.

The Do Not Disturb sign is no longer up; I took that down yesterday. The room has been cleaned, the bed made, and towels replenished. Now I have to mess it up again.

I pull down the bedspread, throw around the pillows, and pick the desk phone.

“Room service.”

“Yes, I’d like to order a hamburger and french fries.”

“How do you want that cooked?”

“Medium rare, please. No tomatoes, and I’d like kale instead of iceberg lettuce, if possible. And lots of mustard and mayonnaise for the fries.”

Pause. “Anything to drink?”

“Orange soda, if you have it. Room 322.”

“It will be about twenty minutes.”

“Thank you.”

Bet she doesn’t forget that order.

Next, I remove the little plastic container from my bags. It’s about the size of a sandwich. Inside is the only thing that will open the phone.

Norma’s finger.

The first attempt doesn’t work. Her finger is too wet and cold; it must not feel alive enough.

I dry it off and try again. Still doesn’t work, so I wait a bit longer and let the finger thaw out.

While pressing it against the screen the third time, I place my own finger beside it, giving it that I’m-still-alive feeling.

Success.

The first thing I do is change the security settings.

Now I look into Norma’s life. Over the past twenty-four hours, she has received a reminder about an upcoming dental appointment on Monday and two texts from someone named Tammy.

It takes a minute to sort through their conversations.

There are lots of texts about schedules.

They both work in a distribution warehouse for a big-box retailer.

Tammy: How’s it going down there? Still coming back this weekend?

Norma: Not sure yet. I’ll let you know .

After dealing with Tammy, I text the dentist to reschedule the teeth cleaning.

The rest of Norma’s message history is overwhelming, like she’s never deleted a thing. I feel like her house is probably the same way. I bet Norma was a pack rat.

Next, I look for any texts with the detectives. Kelsie isn’t there, but I do find Tula’s number in her call history. Most of the calls were very short, as if he had sent her to voicemail.

Norma’s email is a flood of spam and advertisements. I scan through, looking for anything real, and find one from a private investigation company. My heart skips a beat as the email opens.

Dear Ms.Dixon,

Thank you for your interest in our company. Our prices are as follows…

Expensive. But Norma did not hire them, and I move on to the rest of the emails. So far, this is better than I expected. I can’t find anyone who is desperate to get hold of her, there’s no sign of a significant other, and it doesn’t look like anyone has been helping her search for Plum.

Small things. I’m still working on appreciating the small things. It’s a lifelong endeavor.