by Lauren Wood
My basement was a straight line to his not more than 12-feet in length through the snow. My boots and jacket were stored by the window in the basement. I needed to make sure I wasn’t going to be interrupted. I was going to do everything in my power to have him snoring loudly within the hour.
“I was going to open up the bottle of wine you brought with you, but I think I have something far better for a night like this. I got this for those cold nights when all you want to do is curl up with a good book next to the fire.” I had my hands behind my back and I produced a bottle of brandy.
“I can sit by the fire and warm the brandy by getting it close to the flame. I can’t say I don’t like being pampered, but I feel that I could be of more use in the kitchen. I can’t promise to be on my best behavior, but I don’t think you would want it any other way.” I sat with him for a moment sharing the tranquility and the sound of the storm picking up speed outside.
The streets were already impassable and the plows tended to come around hours after the storm had subsided.
I looked into his eyes and I didn’t see a stone cold killer looking back at me. He seemed reserved with just the hint of a kinky bone in his body. I was ready to have him shed the layers of his clothing, but I was getting ahead of the game.
“This is the kind of romantic atmosphere every woman wants from their significant other. Men get complacent and fail to realize it’s the small things that matter. A kiss of appreciation and a rose for no reason goes a long way. The bottle of wine was a nice touch.” There was a bottle of change sitting majestically on the mantle of the fireplace. The many dimes and quarters shined in the glow of the crackling fire.
“I was never good at being romantic, but I do know how to learn from my mistakes. She was always trying to remind me to go beyond my marriage obligations. I don’t want to bring you down with talk about my failed marriage. I would rather concentrate on you and maybe you can tell me what made you become an artist.” I swallowed hard realizing there was no talk about my professional life.
“I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation, but how could you possibly know what I do for a living? I haven’t said anything unless something slipped that I don’t remember saying.” I didn’t dare look at him. I was a bit afraid of how he was going to react to being interrogated.
“I’ve always been a study of fingers. I see the faint discoloration of some kind of paint. I would say it’s water based and most likely used on a canvas with light touches of a brush to create some kind of masterpiece.” Every time his drink was down about half way, I would refill it to keep him from realizing how much he was consuming.
“I guess I’ve always had an artist’s mentality. I love creating something with my bare hands and seeing it appreciated for no intrinsic value. I auction my stuff off to the highest bidder. It’s always a surprise at how much they go for on the open market.” I did enjoy talking about my work, but most would fade out after a few sentences.
I had his undivided attention and there was a real interest to learn more.
“There are many forms of art and it’s all subjective. Are you working on anything right now that I might be able to take a look at? I know how an artist feels their work is private until the finishing touches are put on. I would like to share the vision you have by looking you in the eyes when I look at it.” I had a dream so big and loud I had no choice but to scream it by making the public see me through the images on the canvas.
“You have an interesting way of looking at art. I am working on a commissioned piece for an anonymous client. I don’t even know the client’s identity. He apparently has been watching me for quite some time. He reached out to a gallery owner to find me. I never considered my stuff to be special, but others are quick to contradict my statement.” I found him easy to talk to and there wasn’t a cloud of disinterest over his eyes.
“This place does have charm. Architecture has been a hobby of mine for as long as I can remember. The mosaic glass is indicative of a long forgotten era. If I were to guess, I would say this place was built in the fifties. I might even go so far as to say the twenties. The wood floors are easily a feature hard to ignore. The banister leading to the second floor was made by someone who took pride in their work.” The apron was doing very little to hide the natural wonders of the world.
“I’ve always found myself fascinated by things that are unique. In a world of mass production, it is a breath of fresh air when you find something unspoiled. It made me cringe to think of somebody else getting their hands on this property. I can’t afford to buy it, but I can rent it for as long as I please. I would be happy to give you a tour of the place.” The reason why it wasn’t selling was the location and lack of bedrooms for family’s looking to uproot for a simple kind of living.
“I can agree with that. I’ve been coming here every summer. I lost sight of what was important in my life. I became someone I didn’t recognize in the mirror.” I walked ahead of him.
He could easily see my nude posterior. He didn’t try to touch me even though I was sure he wanted to.
“Some people wouldn’t like the bathroom straight out of the seventies. They would want to change things and the owner has no interest in renovating. I find it functional and the bathtub quite comfortable after I’m done working for the day. I would call myself a bargain hunter. What this place lacks more than makes up for with a quiet pace of living.” There was only one bedroom not including the attic where my studio was located.
“The lake shimmers from up here even with the fresh powder of snow. It’s perfect for the holidays. The skiing is fantastic and you don’t have to go any more than a few miles to find a suitable location.” He knew the area better than I did and some of his stories gave me a reason to trust him.
“We should get out of here. I don’t know if we can be trusted in this room together without doing something about the heat between us.” There is a basement, but it’s mostly for storage. There’s also an attic and that’s where the magic happens.” I had turned the phrase to indicate where my art was conceptualized.
We ran up a set of stairs quite narrow and I turned on the light to let him see the sparse surroundings. The wet paint brushes and the blank canvas was the only thing he could see. I was reluctant to share with him my work until I finished what I started.
“Darby, this place is one of those rare gems you barely see anymore.” He was still drinking and I was carrying the bottle of brandy to make sure he never saw the bottom of his glass.
“You look a little unsteady on your feet.” I led him back down the stairs and he sat down in the same chair he was in, before following me on the tour.
“You don’t have to get me drunk to have your way with me. I would rather be here with you than intoxicated in a way that prevents me from performing to your expectations.” His words were slurred and he was having trouble making sense of what was going on around him. I knew the signs better than anyone how close he was to becoming unconscious.
The brandy warmed at his fingertips was making him feel the effects running through his veins. His eyes were heavy and he could barely keep his eyes open. His hand with the brandy in it slumped over the side of the chair. I grabbed it from his hand preventing one single drop from spilling onto the freshly stripped old wood floors.
I very carefully placed it on the coffee table and took the comforter off the couch to drape it over him. He looked so peaceful. I couldn’t imagine him having malevolent thoughts. I had to know what exactly I had seen before going any further. I avoided those boards on the floor which creaked when I walked over them.
I held my breath and found the door already open to the basement. I left it open and slipped into the darkness with a flashlight clutched in my hands. The only light was coming from the kitchen and there was no way he could see it from where he was next to the fireplace.
I put on my winter clothes, glancing back one more time before I opened the window to the chill of the snow smacking me in the face. It wa
s already halfway up the windowpane. I grabbed the ladder purposely placed near the wall for easy access.
Chapter four
It wasn’t easy making my way through the snow. I didn’t want to leave any sign of being on his property. Mother Nature was taking care of that. Each step was covered by the very thick flakes falling from the sky. It was a dismal evening, but there was something magical like a winter wonderland exposed in front of me.
I had to clear out a path around the window that was boarded over. The snow was fluffy and was easy to move with only my hands and my boots. The kitchen light gave me enough to see what I was doing. I had a hammer and I used the claw to pull off a couple of boards before realizing there was no way I was going to get through without removing them all.
It was rather time-consuming. I was mildly worried that he was going to wake up to find me missing. I couldn’t risk getting caught in the act, but I had come too far to go back. The answers were so close that I could almost taste them.
The shards were removed by a handyman to prevent any unnecessary injuries when they finally got around to replacing the windowpane. I had seen him working from my window in the attic. He had no idea I was watching him scratch his ass.
I had a flashlight in my teeth and I was wiggling my way through the frame. It was a tight fit, but I managed. I was thankful that I wasn’t prone to gaining holiday weight. My metabolism was fast and I could practically eat whatever I wanted and not gain an ounce.
Supper was simmering and nothing was going to be burned by the time I came back. I was definitely working up an appetite by taxing muscles I didn’t even know I had. I was going to feel this in the morning. I was hoping I would have another reason to stretch out my sore muscles after we finished playing a bit of mattress tag.
I found a shelf and it was attached to the wall making it into a makeshift ladder. I climbed down careful not to spill any of the contents of the jars. They did rattle, but that was unavoidable. My only saving grace was the resident was across the street not aware of my presence.
I got my feet firmly on the cement floor and I looked around to see that he was using his basement the same way I was. The family must have used it as storage when they had their summer outings. It took a moment to find the door leading to the rest of the house. It was as if the door was made to mimic the very wall of the basement.
I came out in the kitchen and the design of the house was primarily the same as mine with drastic cosmetic differences. The kitchen had been renovated with Stainless Steel Appliances and a new marble counter. There were boxes everywhere. He must’ve sent them earlier when I was busy with the art gallery owner.
I opened a couple of them and found women’s clothing in various sizes. I immediately envisioned some kind of serial killer taking trophies after he had killed his victims. They were classic from the era of Marilyn Monroe. The pieces would have made anybody looking to capture the old days quite happy to find a treasure like this one.
The next couple of boxes were more of the same with the last one containing most of what the kitchen was going to need to function. There were many knives. They gleamed in the beam of the flashlight. He did mention about being somewhat of a good cook. I didn’t want him to interfere in my kitchen, but it might’ve been interesting to see what we could have conjured up without getting physical.
The furniture was covered with white sheets and underneath the price tag on each individual item was quite extravagant. There wasn’t a layer of dust even along the window and door frames. It was quite something for him not to complain about how my home measured up to his. He had only moved in, but he was anal in his cleaning routine.
I stumbled over a couple of other boxes and stubbed my toe. I slapped my hand over my mouth to prevent myself from screaming. There was no possible way he could hear me, but I wasn’t going to take any chances. I worked my way around those boxes. I could see with the flashlight illuminating them where they were sitting. There seemed to be no method to his unpacking.
The clothing had me understandably upset, but there was nothing concrete to determine he was a homicidal maniac. There was still the second floor including the two bathrooms to check before I went to the attic.
From my vantage point in the bathroom, I could see him still aglow by the fire. He wasn’t moving. The liquor had numbed his senses and left him pretty much useless in the bedroom. A couple of hours of shut-eye would hopefully rejuvenate his spirit and give him the stamina to go the distance.
I couldn’t believe I was actually thinking about sleeping with him. It seemed unfathomable considering everything I had learned. It wasn’t enough to shut down my libido from craving something more than my finger.
The bathroom was pristine with a sunken tub and a walk-in shower made from part of the huge living room closet. It was actually a good use of space.
His medicine cabinet was void of anything except for a first aid kit. There were no toiletries and I didn’t find anything in any box to indicate there was going to be any. The white motif was making me shake my head in disbelief. Wait long enough and the old ways would come back. Clothing from the seventies was making a comeback and architectural designs from that era were slowly gaining acceptance.
I tried to think like a deranged murderer and my footsteps led me up the stairs to the master bedroom with a bathroom made from the dreams of any woman. This huge Jacuzzi tub was elevated to take advantage of the view of the lake. There was room enough for four people.
His bedroom was only a bed and a mattress. There was a set of sheets which he had neglected to put on in his haste to come over to see me. I was about to put them on for him, but he would see it as an invasion of his personal space.
I opened up the closet with a sigh of relief to see it was empty. I knew where my search was going to lead me. The only place left to search was the attic. The fresh scuff marks on the stairs gave me a good indication he had been there recently.
I made my way up cautiously holding onto the railing until the light bulb swinging from the ceiling came on. There must’ve been some kind of motion detector. It would’ve been nice to have in my studio. I couldn’t remember how many times I had stumbled in the dark cursing underneath my breath. This ingenious device would have saved me endless hours of misery.
There were four garbage bags carefully secured. I put the light on top of a shelf angling it in a way that I could see what I was doing. I sat there looking at these bags seeing the body parts of his many victims in my mind. I couldn’t bring myself to open them. It had to be done, but my hands were frozen and my heart literally stopped in my chest.
Time meant nothing when the reality of what was in those bags was staring me in the face. I still had plausible deniability for however long it took me to open one of the bags. I could hear the storm and the sound of the house settling with the wind blowing things around in the storm.
I got up and paced the floor with the flashlight displaying shadows on the wall. We had barely gotten to know each other and already I was about to accuse him of a heinous crime. It was disconcerting how fast I was willing to jump to conclusions.” I kept staring at these bags willing one of them to break open without me having to do any of the work. It wasn’t going to happen unless I made it happen.
I was thinking of the man sitting by my fire. He didn’t make any alarm bells go off, but the grisly sight of the hand in the garbage bag was still haunting me. It made me wary of getting close without knowing the partner I was going to share my bed with.
There was no way I could justify walking away from the mystery without uncovering the gory details. I had to believe there was a reasonable explanation.
I walked around each bag and kicked them hoping they were going to be light enough to go flying across the room. It was my bad luck that they were heavy and could easily contain a discovery worthy of putting me into a catatonic state. I would be found and safely hidden away from the world in a padded cell rocking back and forth in the fetal position.
I fell into the Lotus position with the flashlight in my hand going over each individual portion of each garbage bag. I took a deep breath and dug my nails into the very first bag. It was industrial strength but was no match for my polished and sharpened fingernails.
It tore open and all of these arms and legs fell out. There was this deep seated scream in my mouth, but I was unable to voice my displeasure.
It was somewhat disturbing to be surrounded by body parts. I had seen my fair share of television shows dedicated to serial killers to know when I was in the presence of one. He didn’t mimic any of the characteristics. He was quite personable and was charming in his own misguided way. He didn’t seem to be suffering from any kind of performance anxiety.
I heard footsteps, but I wasn’t able to move quickly enough before he was climbing the stairs with his heavy boots making me cringe with each step.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I looked up to find Jonathan holding my gaze. I was going to be his next victim callously disregarded like another piece of trash.
Chapter five
I had no idea what I was looking at, but it was nothing like I thought it was. I was right about the body parts, but they were inanimate objects. Mannequins or more precisely, pieces of mannequins which could easily be pieced together replacing one piece with another. They were universal.
“I really wish you hadn’t seen any of this. You must think of me as some sort of freak. There’s a perfectly rational explanation.” I was ready to listen and my heart began to beat again when I realized my life was no longer in danger.
“Are you some kind of closet crossdresser? Believe me; it’s far more appealing than what I was previously thinking. I would count myself lucky if that was all this was. I might even be able to accept this little kinky diversion.” I was still sitting in a sea of plastic body parts.
