Chapter Eighteen
If Lee Holmes had been instructed a week ago to compose a list of activities that had the potential to occupy her Wednesday night, standing in Rosehill Cemetery for a second time whilst her girlfriend uncovered a grave that they had dug-up only a few days prior to hide unidentifiable parts of a body would likely not have made the cut.
Morgan, however, had informed Lee at their apartment that the identifiable remains of Edward Beckett were no longer an option; scattered and burned, nothing more than ash that belonged to the wind.
Lee wrapped her arms around herself as she shivered through the evening chill. “Do you want my jacket?” Morgan asked, leaning against the shovel for a moment, halting her digging as she exhaled mist out into the cold air.
Only Morgan Finch could be chivalrous whilst digging up a body, Lee thought.
She nodded, and without a moment's hesitation, Morgan pulled back her navy blue bomber jacket from her shoulders and threw it over towards her girlfriend who put it on with equal haste, acknowledging that despite the circumstances, it smelt wholly of Morgan and her off-brand perfume.
“Thank you,” Lee offered, whilst Morgan got back to work.
Her digging only ceased when the slightest hint of mahogany wood poked its way through the dirt.
Morgan placed the shovel beside the grave and glanced at her girlfriend, standing in place amongst the headstones, stagnant, still, as if she had become a headstone herself. “Are you sure you want to do this?” she asked, eyebrows furrowed, her tone laced with worry.
Lee Holmes retrieved a pair of black gloves from her jean pocket, throwing another pair at Morgan from the alternating pocket, who caught them with ease. “Positive,” she confirmed. “Let’s just get this over with.”
Returning to the grave of Margaret Spence almost felt like returning to an old friend and Lee cursed herself internally at the thought.
Neither she and Morgan had ever met this woman and yet through their actions they would all be tied together in the most morbid way imaginable—an unsettling familiarity like an old scar.
An equally morbid sense of déjà vu creeped in as Morgan peeled back the casket, immediately placing her head into the crook of her elbow in a futile attempt at masking the smell.
“Seems like my concoction didn’t do much in ways of the stench, I see,” Lee observed, pinching her nose as she spoke, making her sound as if she had a cold.
Morgan Finch laughed into her elbow—a forced laugh as she attempted to offer a lightness to an otherwise incredibly dark situation.
“Baby, I don’t think all the concoctions in the world could hide this smell.
With that being said, I do commend your effort, and if I had a gold star, I would give you one. ”
There was a sense of irony in the word ‘effort’, Lee thought, upon her failed attempt.
There were many things in this world that one could do subpar, or even half-heartedly, but body disposal was not one of them.
It was either done perfectly, and with precision, or it would come apart at the seams completely and result in the both of them being imprisoned.
Her podcasts had never made it seem easy by any means, and yet a part of her cursed herself, being the perfectionist that she was, that she hadn’t managed to do the job correctly.
The other half supposed that it was a good thing, and that her talents were more suited towards other activities that didn’t hold their freedom in the balance.
As she exhaled into her hand, she reminded herself that both fortunately, and unfortunately for her, Morgan had done this multiple times, and despite such a fact, she was still standing here to tell the tale, with an elbow to her face, making jokes, as opposed to rotting in a jail cell.
“I’ll hold off on patting myself on the back at my attempt for now until we’re standing in a pool in a warm country when we’re old and gray. ”
Morgan Finch removed her face from her elbow, revealing a glistening grin underneath.
With her arms freed, she began taking off her backpack, unzipping it before it had even fallen off her shoulders.
There, in a Ziplock bag, was Arthur Strickland’s driver’s license, now sitting in Morgan’s gloved hand.
“If this all works out, drinks in said swimming pool will be on me,” Morgan said, unzipping the bag, wielding the driver’s license as she handed the open Ziplock bag to Lee.
“Now, time to pretend this license is an ice cream scoop and get some extra servings.”
“I fucking hate you sometimes,” Lee muffled, jokingly, her hand still over her mouth and nose whilst the other held the Ziplock bag.
“In all seriousness, I don’t know why you haven’t just been doing something along these lines this entire time.
You don’t need to kill people to get justice.
You could just use the power of DNA to give people their just desserts, no pun intended.
Or, better yet, you could be a detective, like your mom, considering how good you are at solving crimes. ”
When a silence filled the air alongside the stench, Lee Holmes didn’t need three guesses to understand why Morgan was yet to speak.
Lee’s own denial, in theory, was only palpable when it was inside her own mind.
Out in the open, her denial seemed like more of a spectacle—a joke to appease a crowd.
Lee knew entirely why Morgan Finch used her own methods of justice—because she liked it.
And the most terrifying part of all of it, was that a part of Lee, however small, liked it too.
The scent of death lingered on their clothing, which Lee could only describe as an unpleasant mix of rotten eggs, and old cabbage that had been left out in the sun for far too long.
It also strangely reminded Lee of stale teabags, and she made a mental note to herself to replace the ones currently sitting in a jar in their kitchen.
Arthur Strickland’s home was the last stop on the agenda before the pair of them could discard their outfits entirely and jump underneath a warm, enticing shower.
The prospect of doing so felt exciting, whilst at the same time, Lee Holmes couldn’t deny the anticipation that coursed through her body at the idea of breaking and entering.
She decided at that moment that dating Morgan Finch wasn’t like riding a rollercoaster—dating Morgan Finch was like jumping off of one in mid-air without a parachute.
Morgan Finch was presently crouched down upon the top concrete step in front of Arthur Strickland’s abode, a piece of metal wiring in one hand, and an equally matching piece in the other.
Lee Holmes laughed to herself without even meaning to, finding humor in the fact that she had discovered a new way of being attracted to her partner, sporting a black baseball cap with black gloves to complement the burglar-chique outfit.
“I’m glad you find my lockpicking skills so hilarious,” Morgan grinned, her eyes still planted firmly on the lock in question.
“I’m not laughing at your lack of skills, babe, I’m laughing at…never mind,” Lee said, deciding it was better to leave the thoughts inside her head as to Morgan’s attractiveness where they belonged. “Do you need me to take a look? Perhaps I could—”
A gentle click followed by a slight creak as the door opened halted any attempt at help from Lee.
“You were saying?” Morgan jested, placing the two metallic wires into the back pocket of her black jeans.
Another laugh escaped Lee’s mouth at the thought of having to remind Morgan later to take the wires out of her jeans so that they didn’t break the washing machine.
She wondered at present time if other people thought similarly to her whilst committing felonies.
When her girlfriend stepped over the threshold, the laughter had dissipated, and the reality of the situation made itself known within the deep confines of Lee’s mind.
Her girlfriend turned to face her, as if sensing her hesitation, and held out a gloved hand to meet her own.
“You don’t have to come in with me, you know.
I can place this driver’s license down where it can be easily found and we can leave in less than two minutes. ”
As kind as the offer was, or as kind as it could be given the fact that Morgan had led her to this mess in the first place, Lee Holmes didn’t want to leave.
Stepping into Arthur Strickland’s house was like stepping into one of her podcasts, something she had never experienced before from being on the sidelines.
Always in the audience, never on the stage.
“Thanks, but I’d like to go in. Besides, if we’re arrested for tampering with a body, I might as well add breaking and entering to my record. ”
Morgan’s face revealed the predatory gaze she always kept hidden underneath as her white teeth added a vague sense of brightness to an otherwise darkened atmosphere.
“Here I was thinking that I couldn’t possibly be more attracted to you, and then you make what we’re doing seem like nothing more than a traffic violation.
Could you try to be less sexy whilst we’re committing felonies, please?
It makes it hard for me to focus, otherwise. ”
“I can try,” Lee said, huffing as if frustrated by her own beauty. “But it won’t be easy.”