Dead of Winter

After a half hour of debate it was decided to call Noel Wolfe, who ran the granite quarry, to get a truck big enough to transport the ice block. But when the truck arrived, Ralph Drexler stepped forward.

“That body will break into pieces if you hit a bump. We need something to cushion it,” he said.

Gibralter looked at Jesse. “Go find a cushion,” he said.

“Where the fuck…?” Jesse pulled off his cap. “Okay, Chief. It’s only fucking midnight. We’re in the middle of nowhere and you want a fucking pillow for this stiff? Jesus Christ, in another hour, you’re going to have to chisel all of us out of the damn ice.”

“Harrison!” Gibralter bellowed, silencing the crowd. “I have given you a directive. Now follow it!”

Jesse stared at the chief, his mouth agape. Louis watched, sensing that Gibralter’s reprimand was totally unexpected. Apparently, under better circumstances, Jesse was allowed his little fits of temper. But not tonight.

Jesse disappeared into the darkness and Louis watched as he flipped on the lights and ran code three back to town. Again, the men fell silent, a few going back to trucks to turn on heaters and thaw out. Louis went to the truck and ducked under the hoisted block of ice, shining his flashlight on the man’s face.

It was distorted by ice, grotesque and pale. The man was caucasian and chubby, his clean-shaven face clearly visible beneath the crystal pattern of the ice. His eyes were open, two little holes burnt in the ice, with a mild look of bewilderment. His mouth was open, and the upper plate of his dentures had worked its way loose.

A flash of light went off next to him. The damn reporter had ducked under the block with him and taken a picture.

“This one’s not so bad,” he said, looking at Louis.

“What?” Louis said.

“Pryce. Pryce was still warm when I got there.” The young man thrust out a hand. “Delp,” he said with a smile. “Doug Delp. Oscoda County Argus.”

Louis stared at the man’s bare red hand for a moment then reluctantly shook it.

“You’re the guy who replaced Pryce, right?” Delp asked.

“Yeah,” Louis said. “Excuse me, will you?”

Ollie was peeking in at them. “Is it worth coming under there to take photos? Or should I wait?” he asked hopefully.

“Wickshaw! Kincaid!” Gibralter yelled. “Get out of there before that damn block of ice falls and kills you both.”

Ollie backed off, followed by Louis and Delp. Louis walked up the bank to the cruisers.

Thirty minutes later, Jesse returned with a queen-size mattress tied to the roof of the cruiser. The mattress was placed on the flatbed truck and the ice-encased body gently lowered onto it. Once the block was secured with rope, bungee cords and straps, the electrical crew and firemen began to quickly pack up their gear. No one wanted to linger a moment longer than necessary in the freezing night. Even the reporter had long since hit the road.

“Where will they take it?” Louis asked Jesse.

“Cedar Springs. They have a county lab up that way. It’s about twenty miles.”

“Thank God. We might get home by dawn.”

Gibralter came toward them, tossing aside a cigarette. He watched the firemen finish with the final straps, then looked at Louis and Jesse. “Wickshaw will follow you in the cruiser.”

Louis looked at the body, then back at Gibralter, who was walking away. “He expects us to ride with the stiff?” Louis asked Ollie.

Ollie shrugged. “That’s what I heard. Isn’t that what you heard?”

Jesse was already climbing on the flatbed. Louis started to protest again but Jesse cut him off, extending a hand.

“Louis, get up here,” Jesse said.

Shaking his head, Louis climbed onto the flatbed, over the block of ice and sat down next to Jesse, who had settled into a corner against the truck’s cab.

“This is ridiculous,” Louis muttered.

“Look at it this way. We’re protecting the chain of custody.”

The truck kicked into gear and Louis grabbed the edge of the truck. Jesse looked toward the road and watched as the chief climbed into his Bronco. The flatbed pulled slowly up the bank and onto the road. Ollie swung his cruiser in behind.

“Chief seemed kind of tense,” Louis said after a moment.

“He’s just pissed at me,” Jesse said tightly. “I shouldn’t have spouted off to him like that.”

Louis shivered as the wind began to whip around them. “Not a real smart move.”

“He’s never yelled at me like that for just mouthing off.”

“It’s the circumstances, Jess. It’s freezing-ass cold. The chief’s got a dead body that everyone’s making jokes about and all these civilians watching. He was doing a little chest beating, that’s all.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Louis scooted toward Jesse for warmth. “If I freeze and die out here tonight tell them I died with honor, okay?” he said.

“You’re not going to die. The human body can endure temperatures much colder than this.”

Louis nodded toward the body. “Tell that to him.”

They quickly fell silent in the biting cold of the open highway.

“Louis?” Jesse said, breaking the silence.

Louis grunted.