The Don's Dying Wish novel · Chapter 10 of 32

Chapter 10: The Back Door

I was off the couch before the second click.

Marcello's eyes were open in the dark.

"Stay here," I whispered.

"I can't do anything else."

I took the heavy steel flashlight from my father's nightstand and went down the back stairs in my socks.

The lock on the back door was turning, a quarter inch, then back, then a quarter inch again.

A shadow moved beside me, and I nearly swung the flashlight before I saw it was the embalmer, barefoot in his undershirt.

He'd been sleeping on the cot in the office since Sunday, and he hadn't told me.

He put one finger to his lips and held up his phone.

On the screen was a text he'd already sent to the driver, who slept in the garage with the van on call nights.

LIGHTS. NOW.

The lock clicked over.

The door opened two inches.

Out in the alley, the van's headlights came on full, high beams, straight down the bricks.

A man in a dark hoodie threw his arm over his eyes.

The embalmer opened the door the rest of the way and walked out into the light.

He took the man's wrist, turned it, and walked him backward into the dumpster with a bang that echoed down the alley.

A little leather case of picks hit the bricks.

"Easy," the embalmer said. "You'll wake the neighbors. Some of them are still alive."

The driver came around the side of the van with his phone up, filming.

The man in the hoodie twisted his head away.

I knew the face.

He'd stood in the doorway of Marcello's room the morning Fabrizio threw the apple.

"I'm just looking," he said.

"Look in the daytime," the embalmer said. "We're open."

He let go.

The man ran.

A car started around the corner and was gone.

The embalmer picked up the picks and handed them to me.

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