Barb Zaneson's Miscellany

The Gatsby Zombie Mystery

I was sitting on my porch in West Egg, New York, writing to my aunt, when I heard the gunshots.

I dropped my stationery and looked around for zombies. This was a tidy neighborhood of well-maintained mansions, with very few undead. I saw nobody.

The shots had echoed behind my house. Concerned about my neighbor, Jay Gatsby, I crept through my backyard and looked cautiously through the hedge.

On a half-deflated raft in his massive pool, Gatsby lay very still. Blood trickled down his neck and belly, staining his gold swim trunks. Nobody else was around.

I shuddered, wondering whether he had shot himself, or whether a murderer was lurking nearby.

*

I thought of Tom, the arrogant and athletic husband of my cousin Daisy. I had visited Daisy a few weeks ago, because my aunt was concerned about their young daughter. Daisy's most recent letter home had been food-stained and illegible.

When I visited Daisy, she was wearing a long-sleeved floor-length white gown despite the summer heat. Her lavender perfume was overwhelming, and her hands looked pale. When she left the parlor to check on their little girl, I asked her friend Jordan, "Is she all right?"

"Not really. We both think Tom's cheating on her. She tries to be so glamorous, but I don't think he even notices."

"Ah. I see."

Over dinner, Tom talked incessantly about zombies. He hated zombies, and offered to introduce me to a wonderful zombie exterminator in case my neighborhood became infested. "She and her husband both kill zombies. She's a great gal." His heavy face lit up as he spoke about her, and I agreed to meet her, curious whether Jordan's rumor of infidelity was true.

*

A few days later, Tom introduced me to Myrtle, of Myrtle and Wilson Zombie Exterminators, in their Manhattan office. She was a heavy redhead wearing studded leather zombie armor that showed off her curves.

Tom asked if her husband was there, and she said he wasn't, and the two of them went into a back room together, allegedly for a consultation. By the sounds from the back room, I had no further doubts that Tom was cheating on Daisy.

While I waited for them to finish, I looked over the papers tacked to a bulletin board behind Myrtle's desk.

There were notes on the harsh sentencing guidelines for citizens who accidentally killed non-zombies, and glossy postcards with zombie identification tips. One mentioned perfume and makeup on the newly turned undead, who tried to hide their condition. Another postcard mentioned a constant desire to eat fresh brains to delay decay. A third mentioned a greenish skin tone, and the wearing of unseasonably long clothing.

By the time Tom finished his so-called consultation, I was worried that a cheating husband wasn't Daisy's only problem.

*

I wanted to see Daisy again to be sure I wasn't imagining her possible undead state. My neighbor, Gatsby, invited me to a party at his mansion, and he assured me that Daisy would be there. He grinned when he said it, and I asked how he knew Daisy.

"We were in love long ago, old sport. She should have married me, and not that rich oaf Tom."

"I see." I saw a sparkle in Gatsby's eyes, as if he hadn't yet given up on Daisy's love. I agreed to attend his party, wondering how Daisy felt about him.