Page 134 of Mayhem and Minnie

Also when the hell did I imply I had a harem of women?

“He’s more likely to have a harem of dead bodies than a harem of women, dear. Why, the rascal can barely bring himself to hug his own mother and you think he’d do that with another woman? Multiple women?” My mother scoffs aloud.

“Thank you for the vote of confidence, Mother,” I mumble.

At the same time, Minnie looks at my mother with wide eyes.

“You know about the harem of dead bodies?” she asks, her voice tinged with awe.

Fuck.

My mother blinks.

“I was speaking figuratively, of course,” she says in a low voice before she glares at me.

“Oh,” Minnie gasps. “I?—”

“Marlowe! Didn’t I tell you not to collect dead bodies anymore? Damn it, dear. That habit of yours will bring nothing but trouble.”

“You know?” Minnie asks.

“I’m his mother. Of course I know everything that goes on with him.”

“As in, you have Giles to spy on me for you,” I mumble.

“Spy is a very harsh word, dear. I cannot help it if Giles decides to share.” She smiles brightly. “But now I’ll need to have a word with him about this. I don’t like you living with dead bodies. It’s all right if you have a distaste of the living, but really, Marlowe? I don’t even know how you can stand it with that obsession of yours with cleanliness…” She pauses. “Then again, last time, you kept them frozen in an industrial fridge,” she adds pensively.

Minnie’s mouth drops open in shock.

“He had a fridge full of dead people?” She marvels.

“Oh, yes! He even placed them around to make them look as though they were engaged in a theatrical scene. It was a very odd period of his life.”

“Oh, tell me more!” Minnie says eagerly.

“I’ve never been there, of course. He doesn’t want me at his house.” Another glare. “Perhaps it’s because of the dead bodies. He knows I don’t fancy the smell of rotting flesh.”

“They were frozen. They didn’t smell,” I interject.

“Anyhow. Giles told me all about it since we had to find a way to convince Marlowe to get rid of them. He was collecting them almost like figurines.”

“Like figurines?” Minnie intones.

“Yes! They were arranged hierarchically according to the crimes they committed. I did quite like the idea of it, but the execution?” She shakes her head.

That’s it. This is getting out of hand.

“Mom!” I groan. “I’ll have you know—both of you—that I do not have a harem of dead bodies in my house, okay?”

“Well, technically they’re not bodies anymore, no? They’re charred bones,” Minnie adds, her expression serious.

“I have heard.” My mother nods. “That’s a very good idea, indeed. But you still cannot keep those charred bones around, Marlowe. Technology is quite advanced these days and they can even get DNA from badly damaged bones.”

“I know that, Mother. I get rid of them, don’t worry.”

“No, he doesn’t. He left the ashes in the fireplace,” Minnie quips. “See”—she points to her eyes— “I’m wearing them on my lids.”

My mother’s lashes flutter in shock. She looks stricken.

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