“Well, well,” she said when she saw me, “if it isn’t Manny Calavera! What brings you here?”
“I could never resist a Mae West line,” I said, sitting on the edge of her desk.
“Well,” she said, leaning closer and presenting a full view of her sternum, “like they say, resistance is futile.”
“Yeah? Who says that?”
Carla just shook her head slightly. “So, you new in town?” she asked.
“Got in this morning,” I answered. “Been working in El Marrow the last few years.”
“Doing what?”
“I was with the DOD as a reaper.”
Carla sat back in her chair, withdrawing the invitation. “A reaper, huh? I can’t say I like you guys much.” Her tone gave my ear holes frostbite.
I was taken back a little. I never got that reaction in El Marrow. “Why not?”
“Because you guys decide who goes on and who gets stuck here, that’s why. Who the hell made you judge and jury?”
“It’s not like that,” I protested with a shake of my head. “Do you know how a soul gets to be a reaper in the first place? You have to foul up your life so badly that you’re not even allowed to hoof it. Reapers and everyone else at the DOD are working there to pay off a debt.”
“And that justifies making me work my way across the Land of the Dead, and maybe never making it?” she demanded.
“Of course not. That’s not what I mean. Look, I handled thousands of cases, and I did everything I could to give my clients the best packages they deserved.”
“But what gives you the right to say who deserves what?”
“I didn’t have that right,” I insisted. “No reaper does. The DOD gives us the rules we go by and we just follow them.”
“Just following orders, huh?” The sarcasm cut deep but didn’t hit anything vital.
“Look, I’m sorry if you don’t feel you were given a fair shake,” I said, starting to feel angry but trying to tamp it down. “I was pretty burned up about it, too, when I was told about my fate.”
“It’s not fair,” Carla protested. “I didn’t kill anyone, you know.”
I shrugged. “Neither did I, but that’s not the point. It’s not about what’s fair, it’s about justice. It’s cold and it’s hard, but it is right. I don’t know… maybe you have to carry a scythe to understand that.” I sighed and stood up. “I guess maybe there’s nothing I can say that will make you change your attitude.” I left and went back to my hotel.
Manny Finds His Groove
The next day I got a road map of the Land of the Dead for the El Marrow-to-Rubacava region. Just because I came to Rubacava by a particular route didn’t mean that Meche would. I worked out with Glottis a kind of system for searching for Meche, checking every stop on the way to Rubacava. But all that would have to wait for my days off.
When I went into the Rub-a-Mat that second day, Celso said to me, “Were you serious about helping me find my wife?”
“Sure,” I said. I didn’t really care one way or the other whether Celso found his wife, but you reap what you sow.
Celso handed me a photo. “Here. I got this from the DOD and made copies to hand out. Isn’t she something?”
“She must have been beautiful with skin,” I said, thinking that skin wouldn’t have helped much, glancing only quickly at the photo before pocketing it.
“Weren’t we all,” Celso sighed wistfully.
That day went pretty much like the first one. I tried to draw out Toto Santos when he came in, but still no soap. I did better with other customers even though they all seemed a little unsure of any of the help interacting with them. That night, as I was doing the closing-up routine, Carla came in for her sandwiches. This time she walked instead of ran.
“Hi,” she said quietly.
“Hey,” I tried to answer enthusiastically, although inwardly I was a little wary. “It’s good to see you again.”
“Really?” she asked, sounding surprised and hopeful. “I thought you might be steamed at me, you know, the way you walked out…?”
“Forget about it,” I said. “I sensed a fight coming on and decided to get away while we were still being polite to each other.”
“You sure? No other reason?”
“Nope,” I assured her, “no other reason. I want to be your friend—really—and an argument isn’t the best way to start.”
“Yeah,” she said. “I’m sorry. I’m just…” she shrugged. “Well, the night shift gives you a lot of time to think. I’m still not sure about reapers, but I like you.” She got her two sandwiches. “If you’re really not steamed with me, why don’t you meet me at the Blue Casket day after tomorrow after you close?”
“I’d like that,” I said. “See you then.” She waved, did a silly little pirouette, and skipped out.
The next day Toto Santos actually nodded to me when I greeted him. That was progress. Jesus was coming down from his office while I was making my effort with Santos. He nodded to me himself as he walked by and murmured, “Keep it up, Calavera, and you might just get a civil word out of him someday.”
“That’s something to look forward to,” I said dryly.
Jesus chuckled and then said to Celso, “Why don’t you knock off.” The lunch crowd had tapered off early that day.
Celso went wordlessly.
“Such a sourpuss,” Jesus sighed. I sensed a grimace. “Please forget I said that,” he said.
“Well,” I said, “Celso’s got a lot on his mind.”
“Don’t we all,” Jesus said. “I was talking with Etienne last night,” he went on, clearly changing the subject. “You know… the little guy who’s always humming show tunes out of key?” I nodded. “Anyway, he was saying to me that he likes coming into the place more since you got here. He’s not alone. The customers seem to like the way you greet them.”
“Well,” I said, “I got to be kind of a people person at the DOD. And once you get a client in your office, it’s a good idea to be as friendly as possible with them, especially if you have bad news.”
Jesus gave a wry chuckle. “Like telling them they have to be a reaper?”
“Yeah,” I said, “but—I gotta tell you—it’s considered bad taste at the DOD to talk about things like that.”
“Really?” Jesus said. “Well, I guess I can see why.” He shrugged. “But what I really wanted to tell you was that the customers appreciate what you’re doing. So, keep it up.” He patted me on the shoulder before returning to his office.
“The funny thing is,” I was telling Glottis that night, “I’m actually missing the DOD.”
“I’m not,” Glottis said. “I didn’t like being stuck in that garage all those years.”
“Well, who would?” I said. “Point is, though, they seem to go by a different set of rules outside of El Marrow. I mean, Carla doesn’t like reapers—she was pretty up front about that—and I’m pretty sure that diner waitress, Lola, had something against the DOD.”
“Can you blame ’em?” Glottis asked, ears twitching sharply. “I mean, look at it from their point of view: you show them all those fancy brochures about trains and cars, and then you tell ’em they hafta walk!”
“I never jerked anyone around, Glottis!” I protested.
“And I’m not sayin’ you did. It’s just… you can’t expect people to know the inside dope the way you do, Manny.”
“Maybe you’re right,” I said. I didn’t like to admit it, but the demon had a very good point. “And I bet it’s that kind of resentment Copal’s and Hurley’s gang is making a profit on.”