Free Violence by Timothy McDougall Page B

Roman had gotten the company off a list that was faxed over from the police station where Crotty worked. It wasn’t that long ago where there weren’t any real companies that did that sort of work (or they were really hard to find) and families would have to clean up scenes where loved ones perished, all by themselves. So the news that there was someone to do this dirty job was greeted with relief by Roman because he would have offered his services.
    As it was, Roman’s significant contribution to the clean up was to act as a go-between in the days right after the murders. He didn’t know how his boss would want things handled and was thankful when Anderson finally returned one of his calls to address what to do with the furniture and carpeting in the family room.
    The cleaning crew had already dealt with the bulk of the blood, including the cerebral fluid which is particularly slippery and hard to clean up. The brain matter itself was simpler to remove, it dries to a thick mortar-like consistency which usually only requires a stiff blade putty knife to remove.
    Roman mused it looked like a government toxic waste site clean-up operation with all the equipment that was brought in at first: hazmat suits, high-pressure sprayers, wet vacuums, steam machines, solvents, bio-hazard bags and even foggers which are used to send disinfectants and deodorizers into a home’s air ducts to not only clean but to help rid the air passages of any lasting smells of decomposition. Clean-up crews, he learned, also had to assume they could be dealing with deadly pathogens such as HIV or Hepatitis C at any given location, hence the large-scale precautionary measures were not excessive.
    Anderson knew broadly, from his Army days, what the clean-up would entail so when he heard Roman talking on the phone earlier that morning with some relative about the horrifying aspects of the experience he didn’t hold it against him. He knew Roman was just trying to blow off the details on somebody else. It’s hard to carry around the dirty laundry of life without getting someone to share in its burden once in awhile. Roman was speaking in hushed tones anyway and certainly didn’t think Anderson could hear him through the crack in the office door, but since the murders, while Anderson’s soul may have been deadened, his other senses were all heightened. Anderson contemplated that this magnification of his sensory faculties might be yet another self-preservation adaptation to safeguard against further attacks by predators.
    Roman remembered Anderson’s voice sounded like a whole other person when Anderson did finally call him back and he took it on faith that it was his boss because the caller ID showed it was him:
    “You called.” The preternatural Anderson had asked.
    “Yeah, Boss. Just a couple of things.” Roman croaked, tremulously clearing his throat, hand shaking as he held his cell phone. Roman had to find a way to talk about these somewhat pressing matters concerning how to proceed and no amount of rehearsing prepared him for the actual duty. The fatal bullet (which was collected as evidence) from the .38 had found its way into the ceiling drywall along with bits of Karen’s skin tissue, hair, scalp and skull fragments, but there was still the issue of what to do with the remaining pockmarked ceiling surface, the cleaned but cut up carpeting (fragments were removed for evidence), and the steamed but still-stained sofa. “At the house, the cleaning people are done, but in the family room they said there’s stuff in the ceiling. And all the carpeting and furniture-”
    Anderson cut Roman off before he could finish the gory inventory and said, “Just get rid of everything. In the family room take it down to the studs.”
    “You want me to tear everything out?” Roman asked wanting to make sure he heard him correctly.
    “Yes.” Anderson answered. Then silence.
    “Okay.” Roman confirmed.
    “Thank you. I’ll talk to you later.” That