I Sell The Dead Page #2

An old whore, if you ask me.

Now, lads, this is Arthur.

Kathleen's sister's son.

Oh.

She was a lovely woman, son.

A terrible day, son.

Me ma sends her love.

Would you like a cup of tea, dear?

Can I see me auntie?

Go ahead, son.

Sure she's only just asleep.

Asleep with the Lord.

Dead.

She's dead, son.

Dead.

Ah, there now, son, save your tears.

Sure she's at rest now.

Oh, there, there.

I'll make you a nice cup of tea.

Sure I'll have one if

there is one going, Maisey.

There's that cake too, Maisey.

Go on, go on, son.

Let it out of you.

Can I have a minute alone with her...

to say good-bye?

I want to whisper her a prayer.

So she'll get to the Lord sooner.

Come on.

Let... let's leave the

boy alone with his aunt.

You two can help me in the pantry.

We'll fix you a nice cup of tea, son.

I'll only be a minute.

Open the door, son.

I think he's locked us in.

The little bastard's snuffin' her.

Willie.

They're on to me!

Come on, toss it down.

You feckin' little bastard.

I wring your bloody neck

when I get a hold of ya.

I'll box your ears in when I get you,

do you hear me?

You little toe rag.

Get back here.

Ha ha.

I'm very proud of you, lad.

Willie, I think it's time

we talk about my salary.

Oh, what about it?

Well, I think it's time I had one.

Ha!

We'll take that

sentiment down to the pub.

Arthur Blake.

When will you be making an

honest woman out of me, then?

Ah, go on, you old brasser.

You come back with your earnings,

and I'll show you a brasser.

Willie.

I think it's time we

talk about my salary, now.

Oh, shut up.

It's not even a full moon.

You'll have the mick

brigade after yous now.

After who?

Nobody saw me, Ronnie.

It was all the young blackguard's doing.

Yeah well, there'd be no Burke

without the little Hare over here.

You two are getting a reputation.

You need to lie low for a while.

Oh, we had to do it.

That ornament Dr. Quint had us

between a rock and a hard place.

And now we can't get near

the cemeteries no more.

He's threatening the law if

we don't keep up deliveries.

He's got you by the bollocks, then.

Bastard.

I'll drink to the end of him.

You know, I hear he plays

each corpse a tune on his fiddle

before he gets stuck in.

Enough of Quint.

Sever all ties, that's what I say.

Speak of the devil.

Evening, doctor.

Gentlemen.

A port, Ronnie, and

two ales for my friends.

It's very kind of you, boss.

That's what friends are for, Willie.

Wonderful catch last night, boys.

But I must admit I am curious

as to why it was such a

fresh and clean specimen.

Ah, well, nothing too untoward boss,

snatched it from a wake, so we did.

One must be creative in these times.

Advancing medicine is

what you two are doing.

History will be very kind, gentlemen.

As will I.

But I am afraid this

is not a social visit.

My practice is in dire need, gentlemen.

Ah.

Well, the thing is,

things have been a

bit slow lately, boss.

What kind of weak fool are you?

There's a perfect specimen

standing right beside you.

He helps me out.

He's earned his keep in this world.

I need more corpses,

and I need them now.

I don't care where they come from,

and if you two can't get them for me,

I'll hire Murphy and his men,

and I'll have two fresh

corpses on my table

by the end of the week.

Swine.

He'll be the death of us.

Stiffed us with the bill too.

I have filth on you two,

enough to see you hanged,

drawn, and quartered.

I need them fresher.

Get rid of this stale thing

and bring me something worthwhile.

I need more corpses, more corpses.

I need more corpses.

The stink of that

corpse is almost as foul

as the two of you.

Get me fresh specimens immediately,

or there will be trouble.

That's how it was for years.

Slaving away for Quint,

making sure he was happy.

Meanwhile, we weren't making a penny.

On the bread line, we were.

A hard slog.

One job though, one

job changed all that.

One job turned us from

body snatchers into ghouls.

Ghouls?

Ghouls.

A body snatcher will steal the dead,

but a ghoul will steal just

about anything, dead or other.

Time was when a corpse didn't do much,

just laid there.

Not so anymore.

Well, I mean, surely to God,

a corpse is a corpse is a corpse.

What harm is one to anyone?

Plenty, if it has a good mind to.

I see.

No, you don't.

I think I do.

Father, if I've learned

anything over the years,

it's that you never,

ever trust a corpse.

I had hoped to be

hearing these tales today.

When I first heard that the

snatchers Grimes and Blake

had been reprimanded, I

rushed here to meet with you.

You've heard of us, then?

Oh, your reputation precedes you

in certain circles.

Occult circles.

You have some knowledge

of the occult, then.

Things that go...

In the night, yes.

Yes.

When I first heard the stories,

I thought they were

the stuff of nonsense.

But lately I've come to accept them,

and I actively pursue the tellers.

Unfortunately, my time

with them is brief.

In fact, you'd be dead right

now if it wasn't for me.

Is that so?

Oh, yeah.

I paid the executioner

for our time together.

Is this the first

time you've paid someone

to be alone with a man, Father?

You're not looking too

funny right now Mr. Blake.

Willie Grimes.

Willie Grimes introduced you

to the underbelly of

the resurrection trade.

Well, not so much as introduced me,

more as stumbled upon it with me.

Ronnie put us onto this job.

Out on the moors, it was,

right in the middle of nowhere.

Took us ages to find it.

But it was worth the effort.

Right, it's ready.

You can unearth the thing.

I'm wrecked.

You're getting old.

I'm getting hungry.

Me too.

I hate this.

Backbreaking work, and all

we ever are is famished.

And broke.

If that rotten bastard Quint

was a little less miserable,

things might be different.

We should do him in.

Ah, he's too well connected.

Besides, that's a mug's game.

Still, I'm hungry enough,

I could eat that corpse over there.

What you got there?

Sandwich.

A what which?

Sandwich.

It's food.

Food.

Two lumps of bread with

something in the middle.

It's genius.

Ah, it's queer.

No, it's all right.

You can put anything inside.

What's in it?

Uh, looks like...

Like?

Looks like it tastes

better than it looks.

How did you afford one?

- I nicked it.

- Arthur.

What?

I'll pay them back when I'm flush.

I fancy a bite.

Give it here.

I'll tell you what.

I'll share it with you for

a few glugs of your whiskey.

Done.

Bloody hell.

You were hungry.

You're not having any of mine.

What I don't get is

why they buried a corpse

outside of a graveyard.

Suicide most likely.

Idiot clergy probably

excommunicated them,

so there was nowhere else to bury them.

Why at a crossroads?

Gob shite superstition.

So's if the spirit rises,

it'll not know which way is which

and wander about the place lost.

Which way is which.

Which sandwich is which.

Boy, get at it, come on.

All right, you moody so and so.

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