by Jeff Strand
I hadn’t even realized that I was still holding the rock I’d used to break my car window. So, I’d have to test how heavily the neighbors slept.
I raised the rock to the glass and gave it a couple preliminary taps, as if the window might be kind enough to shatter quietly. I listened for a possible meteorite or exploding vehicle that might cover the noise, but nonewere handy.
I took a deep breath, and then hurled the rock through the glass, near the bottom. I was confident that if Michael’s corpse had been buried in the backyard at that moment, the crash would have awakened him, but at least no alarm went off. I stood silently for a full minute, watching for lights turning on in the neighboring homes and listening for voices saying “Thelma, go fetch my shotgun!” but it didn’t appear that my ruckus had disturbed anyone.
I reached through the hole and unlocked the window, then carefully raised it. I gripped the frame with both hands and pulled myself inside, knocking over a stack of dishes that had been resting on the counter. They fell to the linoleum floor and shattered with a sound that reminded me of policemen firing gunshots at suspected burglars, though I may have just been a tad edgy.
I hopped off the counter and took a moment to admire the kitchen.Neatly decorated, if a bit antiseptic for my tastes. I opened the refrigerator and found nothing to drink but bottled water, so I proceeded into the living room.
Nothing especially interesting in here, either, except for a couple of pieces of art that were so tacky I’m surprised the wall didn’t come to life and fling them away. I think one of them was supposed to be a chicken, but it also might have been a portrait of Albert Einstein. A black cat, sleeping on the floor, looked up at me and meowed as if to say “Please remove your unworthy hide from my palace.”
I walked down a hallway, which was decorated with framed photographs of Michael, Jennifer, and other people who I presume were relatives. There was a picture of Michael and Jennifer at their wedding, the happy couple shoving cake into each other’s faces (an idea Helen had nixed well before our own ceremony).
The first doorway led to a bathroom. Frilly shower curtain, exotic soaps that I’m sure nobody was ever allowed to use, blue water in the toilet…high-class stuff.
The next doorway led to an office, which had been ransacked big-time. There were books and papers all over the floor, as well as a bunch of torn horror movie posters. The corners of some of the posters could be seen still taped to the wall. A desk had been overturned, and a chair ripped apart, with cushion stuffing scattered everywhere. All the drawers of a filing cabinet were open and the contents had been dumped on the floor in front of it. There was some computer equipment that looked like it had been smashed apart with a baseball bat.
I crouched down and began to sift through the papers, hoping to find something like a signed confession or coffin schematics. What I found were lots of papers with cryptic budget figures (I somehow skipped accounting as one of my majors), uninteresting bills, junk mail, warranties for major appliances, and other stuff that seemed to have no relevance to a man being buried alive.
I searched through the office for about ten minutes, and found nothing that seemed even remotely helpful. I wondered if the person who’d made the mess had ended up with the same result. It was going to take hours to go through everything piece-by-piece, and I decided I’d better at least check out the rest of the house before I resigned myself to that task.
When I turned on the light in the bedroom, it was immediately obvious what the search had been all about.
A large picture of Jennifer rested on the bed, the plastic frame cracked. A nail on the wall showed exactly where it had previously been hanging…covering your standard-issue wall safe. The door to the safe was ajar, and rather than being a combination dial it had been opened with a key.
Perhaps a key smelling of Michael Ashcraft’s foot odor.
I walked around the bed and swung the safe door open all the way. Empty. That wasn’t much of a surprise, since the killer probably hadn’t been dumb enough to go through all this work and then forget thebooty.I might have been dumb enough to do something like that, but not the killer.
A closer examination of the inside of the safe revealed a small hole in the back. I wasn’t sticking my finger in that thing, so I returned to the office for a pencil.That done, I slowly inserted the pencil into the hole, encountering a bit of resistance right away. There was some sort of spring inside.
The significance of a spring-loaded hole inside a safe then became extremely clear to me, and I thanked whatever deity was handy that the booby trap hadn’t been reloaded before I got here.
I returned the door of the safe to its original position, and then began to look around the area. A few seconds later I heard the front door open.
I hadn’t even heard a car approach, which didn’t mean much if the intruder had parked elsewhere like I had. I quickly moved around the bed on my tiptoes as the intruder shut the door behind him. I could either hide under the bed or in the closet. I picked the closet.
I opened the closet door and threw up my hands to defend myself against the pile of pillows and blankets that came crashing down upon me. The closet was absolutely packed. I had chosen poorly.
Before I could rethink my hiding place, I turned toward the doorway and saw The Apparition. I didn’t much like seeing him again, but I liked seeing the gun he was pointing at me even less.
“Hands in the air.”
I did as he said.
“Turn around.”
I turned around. The Apparition stepped over to me and pressed the barrel of his revolver against the back of my neck.
“Walk to the living room.”
I walked at a slow, steady pace,trying not to do anything, such as tumble forward, that might panic him and cause a large hole to be added to my neck. Once we were in the living room, he gave me a violent shove and I collapsed onto the sofa.
The Apparition remained in the center of the room. He scratched at his beard with the handle of the revolver then pointed the barrel at me. “Do you know what time it is?” he asked, irritably.
I shook my head.
“It’spracticallydawn, that’s what time it is! What is it with youbein ‘ out all night? How the hell am I supposed to get any sleep? I’m not as young as I used to be. I don’t do well when I’m forced to prance all over towncleanin ‘ up after people! Give it afuckin ‘ rest!”
“I’m a bit confused,” I admitted. “Are you the killer I’m looking for?”
“No, I am not the killer. I work for the killer. I work long, ridiculously late hours for the killer because you won’t go to goddamn bed! Do you know where I was when you tripped the silent alarm? I was asleep,dreamin ‘ that I was in a hot tub with a half dozenVictoria ‘s Secret models! Do you know how hard it is for me to get that dream? Do you?”
I shook my head.
“It’s hard as hell!”
“I’m sorry.”
The Apparition began to pace back and forth. “I mean, it’s bad enough that I’mreburyin ‘ coffins that you’re too lazy to cover and getting’ rid of cars with little pieces of people inside, but I should at least be able to get a tiny bit of sleep before I’m out herecheckin ‘ on you again! I know my boss is encouraging you to investigate, but why not stick to normalworkin ‘ hours, huh? Let me get some rest. How does that sound?”
“Who is your boss?” I asked.
“Oh, golly, you almost got me there!” said The Apparition, sarcastically. “With a cunning question like that I almost blew the whole thing! You’re so damn clever, I don’t know why you haven’t figured it all out already!”
“Hey, it was worth a shot,” I said. “You can never underestimate how foolish people can be in stressful situations.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.You know, I think I should just shoot you.” He pointed the revolver at my face and took two steps forward. “Blow your head off then get myself some sleep.”
“You’re not really going to blow anybody’s head
off with that thing,” I noted. “Even Dirty Harry exaggerated, and his gun was bigger than yours.”
The Apparition glared at me. “Don’t push me. I’m tired and cranky.”
“Won’t your boss be upset if you kill me?”
“My boss is welcome to pucker up and kiss my hemorrhoid-ridden butt.”
“That’s a poor work ethic.”
“Be quiet. Anyway, if I were put in physical danger I’d be justified inshootin ‘ you, and who’s going to know if I shot you while you weresittin ‘ peacefully on the couch or if you werelungin ‘ at me with a crowbar?”
“Well, if my blood was all over the couch that might provide a pretty decent clue,” I pointed out.
“It doesn’t really matter either way. If I don’t kill you, things proceed as planned. If I do kill you, your part transfers to your buddy Roger. No big deal.”
“I don’t know, Roger’s pretty unmotivated.”
“Then I kill him and it transfers to your wife.Still no big deal.”
My insides tightened a bit at that. “I’m the one who messed around in the graveyard and played Find the Spare Change in the Head. I think I’ve got some investment in this thing.”
The Apparition nodded and lowered the gun. “You’ve got a point there. Maybe I won’t kill you after all.”
“Well, thank you. You’re a kind and generous soul.”
Then he shrugged and pointed the gun at my face again. “But to be honest, I’m already sick of you. I hope you can make peace with yourself in the next second and a half, because that’s all you’ve got to live.”
Chapter 13
OKAY, OBVIOUSLY I didn’t die or I wouldn’t be able to relate this tender little narrative.Unless, of course, I’m a ghost, writing these words through an Ouija board.Thatwould be pretty cool, but also incredibly time consuming, and the human I was channeling through would probably try to steal all the credit. Plus, becoming a ghost at the hands of a man named The Apparition would just be too ironic. So I lived.
“I know where the money is,” I blurted out somewhere around the half-second mark.
The Apparition hesitated. “What money?”
“The money your boss was looking for.”
“What are youbabblin ‘ about?”
“Here, let me speak in a way that you might understand.” I spoke slowly, enunciating each word, as if talking to a not-very-bright infant. “I know where the money is. And if your boss wants it, you’d be well advised not to shoot me before I tell you where it is.”
“My boss isn’tlookin ‘ for any money. You’rebluffin ‘ to save your life.”
“No, I’m not. Did you notice the ceiling?”
The Apparition glanced up for a second. “What about the ceiling?”
“It’s the clue that answered the riddle. A neat littlepuzzle , actually. Your boss would appreciate it. Looks like Michael Ashcraft came up with some interesting stuff on his own. I didn’t figure it out until right before you showed up, but it’s pretty clever.”
The Apparition looked up once more, and then quickly returned his attention to me. “There’snothin ‘ on the ceiling.”
“Sure there is. Look at the watermark.”
“I don’t see any watermark.”
“Well, now, that’s the trick. You’ve got to look at it from the right angle. I’ll show you, but you have to promise not to kill me.”
“I’m not promising you anything `ceptthat I’mgonna shoot you the second this starts to bore me. And I’mgettin ‘ very close.”
“Okay, fine, just back up a couple steps.”
Keeping the revolver focused on me, The Apparition took two steps backwards. “There’snothin ‘ there.”
“Look carefully at the way the light hits the whitewash. When you’re in exactly the right place, you’ll see what I’m talking about.”
“I don’t see anything.”
“Well, gee, Mr.The Apparition, you must not be in exactly the right place, then. Would you like me to get up and show you?”
“You keep your butt planted to that couch or you’regettin ‘ a bullet through the eye.”
“Sounds good.Try one step to the left.”
The Apparition took a step to the left, his foot coming down exactly where I’d hoped it would���on the tail of the cat. The cat let out a screech and latched onto his leg, claws and fangs moving like a garbage disposal. In the second that The Apparition was distracted, I lunged out of my seat and dove at him, my hands colliding with his throat and knocking him to the floor. I crouched down and smashed my knuckles into his wrist and made a grinding motion until he released his grip on the revolver, then I snatched it up and pushed it against his nose.
“Please get this cat off me,” he said.
“The cat stays,” I informed him. “Who do you work for?”
“None of your business.”
“Unless you’d like a demonstration of the world’s best cure for nasal decongestion, you’ll start talking.”
“If you kill me, I won’t be able to say a word.”
“Then I’ll shoot you somewhere that won’t kill you.”
“Thensomebody’ll hear the shots and call the police.”
“Then you’ll go to jail.”
“I’d say that you shot me when I wastryin ‘ to stop you fromburglarizin ‘ my friend’s house. Could you please get this cat off me?”
I could see that getting any information from him was going to require extreme measures. I stoodup, keeping the revolver pointed at him, and gently nudged the cat off his leg with my foot. It took off running down the hall, probably unaware that it had saved my life. Maybe I’d name it Reverse Snowflake.
“C’mon, Mr. App, it’s time to start spilling your guts,” I said. “After seeing that tape, you’d better believe that I’m going to do whatever it takes to get you to talk.”
“Well then you should get started.”
“I will.”
The Apparition grinned. “Feelin’kind of tough right now, aren’t you? I bet you don’t get many chances to beat up a sleep-deprived old man.”
“This is your last chance to answer some questions peacefully,” I warned him. “There’s a whole kitchen filled with utensils that will make the process much less pleasant.”
“Hmmmm…letme see if you’re scaring me yet.” The Apparition pretended to think that over.“Nope, not yet. I’ll let you know if things change.”
“Fine,” I said, motioning toward the recliner with the gun. “Why don’t you have a seat?”
“Nah, I’m pretty comfortable here on the floor.”
“I said,why don’t you have a seat?”
“And I said I’m pretty comfortable here on the floor.”
“Do you honestly think that after watching a guy being tortured to death with aspork I’m going to hesitate in shooting asicko like you?”
The Apparition nodded. “Yeah, I do.”
I hate confident people.
“Listen to me, you piece of shit,” I said, hoping that profanity would indicate exactly how serious I was. “If you don’t get up right now and park your ass on that couch, I’m going to push this gun against your kneecap, pull the trigger, and hope that our neighbors are heavy sleepers. Do you understand?”
“I understand, but I stillain’t getting’ up.”
This wasn’t fair. I had the gun, so I was supposed to have the upper hand.
“I’m not kidding,” I said.
“I never said you were.”
Damn, damn, damn! Now I either had to make good on my threat or be seen as a nothing-but-talk weenie. And I didn’t think I could work up the nerve to actually blow a hole through his knee.
Okay, if intimidation wasn’t going to work at the moment, I’d just have to rely on good old fashioned brute force. I walked over, grabbed The Apparition by his shirt collar, and yanked him to his feet. Then I clamped my hand on the back of his neck and forced him into the dining room, where I slammed him down onto a chair.
“Stay there,” I said.
I walked into the kitchen, keeping the revolver pointed at him at all times. He didn’t move, so he obviouslyhadsome doubts about my unwillingness to shoot. I searched through some drawers until I found what I was looking for. Duct tape.
“Sure you don’t want to talk?” I asked, twirling the spool of tape around my index finger. “You’re about to become a lot less comfortable.”
“You know,I’mtryin ‘ to get scared, but for some reason I just can’t. Idunno what it is.”
Fine.The cheeky bastard was getting taped to the chair. I set the gun on the counter and prepared myself in case he should make any sudden moves. I punched him in the stomach to keep him from squirming,then wrapped the tape around each of his hands, fixing them to the arms of the chair. Once that was done, I wrapped the tape around his chest until the spool was empty.
“Comfy?” I asked.
He didn’t respond. I went back to the drawers and picked up a meat cleaver. I wished I could do some fancy moves, tossing it in the air like a master chef, but I figured that accidentally chopping off my own hand would cost me some intimidation points.
“Okay, we’re going to play a little game,” I said. “It’s called Tell Me What I WantTo Know Or I’ll Cut Off Your Fingers One By One You Psychotic Bastard.”
“I’m not a psycho, I only work for one,” The Apparition corrected.
“You’re not taking this very seriously. Don’t you like your fingers? Haven’t they provided you with many years of service? Think about all the times you’ve had the convenience of being able to hold objects or wear rings. If you don’t cooperate now, you’ll never be able to flip the bird at a lousy driver ever again.”
“I’ll have to deal with it.”
Why did he have to be so difficult? If I had to resort to genuine torture to get the information out of him, well, I’d do it! To save five innocent people I could certainly bring myself to sadistically torture one scumbag.
“Okay,” I said. I pressed the blade of the meat cleaver against his little finger. “Say goodbye to Mr. Pinky.”
“There’sgonna be a lot of blood,” he said.
“I’ve seen blood.”
