Free Violence by Timothy McDougall Page A

didn’t want to feel the weight of those words anymore. Karen and Tristan, they had made some real friends and were genuinely a part of this community, he was proud of that, but now he had to wander off and give the mourners a chance to leave.
    Anderson weaved his way through the lawn vases, headstones and memorial slabs and stepped into a chapel. He had been told it was customary for the remains to be entombed after all the mourners had left the area. Still, Anderson wanted to be there until the bitter end and could see a couple of the cemetery staff waiting patiently down an access road.
    It was only a few minutes after the last mourner’s car had receded from sight that the two staffers motored up on their golf-cart utility truck and set about their task of interment. Anderson watched the two men reverently and efficiently place the caskets in the side-by-side garden crypts. They sealed it off as they had done many times before and put the marble shutters in place.
    Anderson experienced a surge of gratitude for the honorable work he felt they did. They didn’t treat the chore ignobly. They did it silently and with respect.
    When Anderson moved up and thanked the two men he had to insist they take the hundred dollar bills he offered them to go get a beer later, on him. The older of the two eventually sheepishly took the money, shook Anderson’s hand, as did the other man, and both said thank you, before they added “sorry for your loss.”

CHAPTER 9
             I t was a week later when Anderson returned to work. Joyce he had sent on vacation. She was an emotional wreck anyway and needed the time off. Roman was filling in for her, doing paperwork, answering the phones and returning calls when he wasn’t needed at an actual job site.
    Anderson was sitting at his desk in his office going over specs. He was trying to focus on what were mundane matters, but he was also happy to be busy at something that would take his mind off things. This is when Roman entered and placed a cancelled work order on his desk.
    “Another cancellation. That’s the third one now this week. Maybe these people think we have bad karma or something.” Roman regretted that last statement as soon as he said it, but it was uttered more out of the strain of having to continually make conversation and tread cautiously around his boss, in order to not recognize the corpses that were still in the room.
    Anderson stared stoically at Roman which Roman read as disappointment with his faux pas but it was really detachment. Anderson hardly heard anything anyone said lately.
    Roman quickly added to fill the void, “Between the economy and…” he was going to say “and this,” but instead just said, “…everything. It’s gonna be tough keepin’ everybody on if things keep goin’ this way.” This statement was still insensitive but at least addressed his pragmatic concerns.
    Anderson simply gazed mutely at him without emotion.
    “We’ll figure it out.” Roman muttered anxiously, angry again at himself for his blatant self-interest. Roman remembered something, dug into his pocket and handed a set of keys to Anderson. “I locked up the house.” Roman was going to add “it looks good” but kept silent, knowing right away that wouldn’t sound right, and he was tired of having to learn the hard way.
    Anderson couldn’t be mad at Roman in any event. Not a bit. Roman had always been an exemplary employee, a first-rate human being, and had really stepped-up for him throughout this ordeal. The “house” Roman was referring to was Anderson’s home. Roman was the first to enter it after the police finished with their investigation of the premises. It wasn’t pretty, even without the bodies.
    Roman helped get the crime-scene cleanup crew started and coordinated payment. These crews were the private firms that victim’s families had to hire to clean and decontaminate a location where a homicide, suicide or other traumatic event took place.