Benny James Mystery Series Box Set

by Jason Deas

  “Maybe later, Mother.”

  Hazel put the dishes in the sink. “I’ll clean these up later so you two boys can talk. I’ll be in my room reading if you need me.”

  “I see your point,” Benny said as she disappeared around the corner. “I could have all the equipment you have downstairs, but it wouldn’t make me a doctor.”

  “Exactly. Karl’s studio is just kind of a clubhouse of sorts.”

  “It had some good paintings in there.”

  “Nina puts her castaways in there. She told me when I asked the same question.”

  “Why does she play along? I noticed her daughter Angel does as well. Why don’t they confront him?”

  “Because it’s an unpredictable tactic. They can live with a fake artist. What if they confront him and he decides to try on another persona?”

  “OK. So, is that what he’s doing when he mimics? Just trying on different personalities? Nina said after a few visits with me he would be able to mimic me perfectly.”

  “That’s my guess. He’s a unique case, that’s for sure.”

  “What about the medications? Nina told me he can be wild when he doesn’t take his meds.”

  “That is simply not true and something she projects onto him. Luckily, she hasn’t ever researched the medications I’ve given him. If she did, she would discover one is for depression and the other two are basically vitamins.”

  “She seems to believe they’re some type of antipsychotic drugs.”

  “They’re not. Ms. Oglethorpe seems to live in a world of her own as well.”

  “Do you think Uncle Karl is capable of murder?”

  “No. Not without leaving a trail.”

  “That’s not very reassuring.”

  “I believe anybody is capable of murder, so he falls under this grand umbrella. I don’t think he has the ability to cover up a murder at this point with the state of his mental health.”

  “Are you certain?”

  “Take a close look around his studio the next time you visit. He can’t even hide the fact that he didn’t create the works in there. He doesn’t wash his brushes. All of his palettes are filthy and filled with browns, blacks, and other dark colors. He doesn’t even know how to mix paints properly. Make a point to go and look. If he can’t hide that—he is definitely not your killer, Mr. James.”

  Benny nodded his head up and down as he thought.

  “OK,” he finally said. He stood. “You have been incredibly generous with your time and your home,” he said sticking out his hand.

  The two men shook hands.

  “It was my pleasure. Come back if you think of any more questions.”

  Benny followed Dr. Walton back to the top of the stairs. Just as they were about to descend, the door to a room opened, and Hazel appeared.

  “You sure you don’t want a piece of pie, Mr. James?”

  “I’m too full, but thank you,” Benny said looking past her and into her bedroom.

  On the wall, above her bed, was a painting covered in numbers.

  Chapter 11

  Benny’s mouth fell and his eyes shot open wide. Hazel’s did the same.

  “Where did you get that painting?” he asked pointing.

  “That old thing,” she said accompanied by a laugh Benny processed as fake. “I don’t recall.”

  Benny walked into the room without being invited. Sure enough, the canvas had eights painted all over its surface. He turned and walked toward Hazel. Benny stopped when he was face-to-face with her. All of his nice was gone.

  “Remember, now,” he instructed.

  “OK. I don’t want him to get into any trouble.”

  “Who?”

  “Karl.”

  “And why would he get in trouble?”

  “I read the paper,” Hazel answered. “I know there was a painting that had numbers involved with the murder. And you think this has something to do with that. Karl would never do anything like that.”

  “Let the law be the judge of that,” Benny said, unsuccessfully trying to find his nice again.

  “I can prove it has nothing to do with numbers,” Hazel said walking over to the painting.

  “It’s obviously full of eights,” Benny huffed.

  “No, it’s not. I hung it the wrong way because I didn’t like it the way it was meant to be.” Hazel climbed on her bed at the foot and carefully made her way to the headboard. She stopped and gained her balance before pulling the painting away from the wall and rotating it to the right. She hung the painting back on the wall and climbed down from the bed.

  “That’s the way it’s supposed to be. It’s not a number. He didn’t kill anybody.”

  Benny and Dr. Walton looked at the painting, now in its new orientation.

  “I don’t know if that’s any better, Mother,” Dr. Walton said.

  “What?”

  “It’s the symbol for infinity,” Benny said.

  “So? That’s not a specific number.”

  “I guess you’re right,” Benny conceded. “Sorry for my alarm. I’ll show myself out.”

  Benny walked out shaking his head before he said something he would later regret.

  Benny drove to Red’s house. As usual, Red was in his garden. The giant metal sea creature flashed reflected light behind him. Red noticed the Jeep pulling into the driveway and waved, smiling broadly.

  “You so hard, Bendy.”

  “Do you mean to say I’ve been working hard?”

  “Yep. That what Red saying.” Red pulled a bug off one of his tomato plants and squished it between his fingers.

  “I don’t usually correct your speech, but in this instance I have to advise you not to say that to anyone else.”

  “But you is so hard.”

  “Hard working,” Benny tried.

  “Hard working,” Red repeated.

  “Good. That sounds much better. I need your help.”

  “You need Red help to catching bad man?”

  “I need some information that might help me catch him.”

  “OK.”

  “When you had the flu last year, didn’t you end up going to a doctor here in town?”

  “Yep. I had the monia.”

  “Right, pneumonia. Do you remember the doctor’s name?”

  “No, but Red remember he live with he mama.”

  “Dr. Walton?”

  “Yep. That be hims. But he not a bad man.”

  “I’m not saying he’s a bad man. I just wanted to know what you thought of him?”

  “I not like he mama.”

  “Why?”

  “She say mean things ‘cause Red not having assurance. And she not taking cornbread.”

  “I know you don’t have insurance, but you tried to pay her with cornbread?”

  “It very good. It be Mama secret cornbread.”

  “Red,” Benny said trying not to smile, “doctors don’t usually barter and you have lots of money in the bank.”

  “The man at the farmcy trade little medicines for peach pie.”

  “Oh my God, Red! You have five hundred thousand dollars in the bank.”

  “You tell Red to spend careful.”

  “I meant, don’t go out and buy a helicopter.”

  “Red not knowing how to ride a helicopter.”

  “Never mind. Uncle Karl gave Dr. Walton’s mother a painting. Do you know why?”

  “Nope. Maybe they taking paintings but not cornbread.”

  “Maybe. Have you ever been in Uncle Karl’s studio when he’s painting?”

  “I think he the world slowest painter.” Red pulled another bug off a plant and squeezed it between his fingers. It made a popping noise.”

  “Why don’t you buy some bug spray?”

  “Vegables not liking that.”

  “So, you have seen Uncle Karl paint?”

  “No, he just mix he paints together to make ugly colors.”

  “Maybe he’s lying and he can’t paint,” Benny suggested.

  �
�That crazy, Bendy.”

  “The world’s full of crazy people, Red.”

  “I think Bendy know most of them.”

  “I think I do.”

  The next morning Benny drove over to the police station to see if it was back to normal and it was. Vernon was at his desk poring over documents and Chief Neighbors was in his office with the door closed. Strange animal-like noises seeped under the door and out into the area beyond.

  “What’s going on back there?” Benny asked.

  “The usual. A short-haired brunette stress reliever. The hair color and length change, but the rest seems to stay the same.”

  A loud grunt filled the room accompanied by the sounds of someone being chased and squealing.

  “I’ve got a surprise for you,” Vernon said.

  “What?”

  Vernon pointed to a closed laptop sitting on his desk.

  “You bought me a computer? You know I don’t like those things.”

  “I didn’t buy you a computer. It came out of our first vic’s car.”

  “And why is it on your desk and not in evidence? You know it takes the state forever to get to small towns like this. We need to get this thing processed and in line.”

  “I thought we could give Ned a crack at it first—without telling anyone he did, of course.”

  Benny’s eyes lit up and he nodded with a smile streaking across his face.

  Ned was Benny’s go-to guy for all things computer related. He was one part techno-genius and two parts mad scientist. Ned could infiltrate any government website and could somehow find more information than any state or federal database. Ned was by far one of the strangest people he had ever met.

  “I’ve been meaning to get over to Ned’s,” Benny said. “I’ve been afraid to go over there ever since he told me about the mushroom farm he’s constructed in his basement. I know I’m going to have to take a tour of it and I can’t even begin to tell you how much I detest mushrooms. Even the sight of them makes me sick, and for some reason he can’t get it in his thick skull that I hate them. He is always trying to make me mushroom pizza or give me bags of mushrooms he made in his closet—I’m starting to feel sick just talking about them.”

  “They’re really good,” Vernon tried.

  “Mushrooms?”

  “Ned’s mushrooms. He sells them to the grocery store over by my house.”

  Benny picked up the laptop off Vernon’s desk and said, “I’m not so sure we’re friends anymore.”

  Ned’s driveway stretched at least a half-mile. Benny had never made a surprise visit to Ned’s and wondered what unusual activity he might find upon his arrival. Usually when Benny called that he was coming, Ned taped a note to the door with instructions on where to find him. On this day the door was wide open.

  Benny thought the open door was unusual and quietly closed the door to the Jeep. He crept toward the front door and listened. As he inched forward he heard Ned screaming in pain. Benny took off running.

  Entering the house, Benny found the place to be unusually messy. From Benny’s past experience he knew that Ned had a messy mind but kept a pretty neat house. As Benny passed the foyer he heard another scream toward the back of the house. He ran in the direction of the noise.

  When Benny entered the solarium at the back of the house he found Ned on the floor shocking himself with what was obviously a homemade device.

  “What in God’s name are you doing?” Benny screamed.

  Ned looked up with surprise and put down the device. His head dropped and bounced on the hardwood floor.

  “Just a study,” Ned said, drooling.

  “A study on what? What a dumbass you are?”

  “No. A study on pain and its effects on the brain.”

  “I hope I’m dreaming,” Benny said, as he stood over Ned.

  Ned looked as though he hadn’t showered in days. His hair looked like it hadn’t been brushed in months and his skin was pale. His lips trembled.

  “So let me get this straight. You are shocking yourself with some crazy thing you made to study pain?”

  “Basically.”

  Benny shook his head. “Why don’t you stand up and I’ll kick your ass for being so stupid and then you can study how that feels?”

  “Would you really do that for me?” Ned asked, trying to smile but drooling some more.

  “No!”

  “Please, Benny. Just punch me once.”

  Not able to control his anger at the situation, Benny kicked Ned in the stomach. Ned made a noise like he was going to throw up and breathed out hard.

  “Thank you so much,” he said. Ned climbed up off the ground. As he stood, his body shook and convulsed.

  “Are you OK?”

  “Never been better. Thank you.”

  “I’m sorry I kicked you. I’ve had a long day and it just happened.”

  “I’m glad you did and I thank and forgive you at the same time.”

  “I think I appreciate that.”

  “Did you come for mushrooms?”

  “No.”

  “You haven’t seen the farm!” Ned said, suddenly remembering that Benny had not been given a tour.

  Still feeling bad about kicking him in the stomach, Benny replied, “No, I haven’t. Will you please give me a tour?” He could not believe the words that had just escaped his lips.

  “Gladly,” Ned said, stumbling toward the basement door.

  The mushroom farm was just as disgusting as Benny had imagined. There were mushrooms growing on rotten logs, piles of manure, and other substances that looked to Benny like disease and filth.

  “How about a taste test?”

  “No! Um… I’m fasting.”

  “OK. I’ll have to give you a rain check.”

  “I hope I don’t lose it,” Benny said, heading for the steps to go back upstairs.

  Back upstairs, he changed the subject and asked Ned if he would take a look at the laptop for him.

  “As usual, anything we find out together is a secret.”

  “If I tell anyone will you come back over and beat me up?”

  “Nice try. Very funny.”

  Ned took the laptop to his desk and opened it.

  “It’s password protected,” Ned said, mumbling. His fingers flew across the keys and it looked to Benny as if he were giving the keyboard a secret handshake with all the different key combinations he was pushing so quickly. “That was easy,” he mumbled again.

  “Um,” Benny said. “Excuse me, Ned.” Ned looked up. “Don’t you need to know what to look for?”

  Ned laughed. “The computer will tell me and I’ll let you know.”

  “Huh?”

  Ned punched more keys and Benny made himself comfortable in the chair across from his desk.

  Ned looked up a few minutes later and said, “I think I have a pretty clear picture of what’s going on here. The owner of this computer is named Alton.”

  “Was.”

  Ned shot Benny a look and nodded. “Let me begin again. The owner of this computer was named Alton. Last name, Barnes. He recently mapquested directions from an address in Brunswick, Georgia to Tilley. I see a few other hits here from Brunswick, so I’m guessing he resided there.” Ned typed a few more keys and said, “Yep, I found his home address and it’s the same. Real smart guy, he was keeping a copy of last year’s tax returns on his desktop in a folder called tax returns.” Ned laughed like he had told a hilarious joke. “What a moron.” Blood started running out of Ned’s nose and Benny jumped up.

  “Ned, get away from the computer. I can wipe your fingerprints off it before I turn it over to the state, but getting your blood off it might be a different story.”

  “I feel woozy,” Ned said. “And really, real, thirty. I’m thirty!” he screamed. Ned tried to stand and stumbled backward. “I’m thirty!” he yelled again. “Thirsty,” he was finally able to say before he toppled over and passed out.

  Chapter 12

  Benny dragged Ned to a couch.
He was still out cold. Benny ran to the fridge and yanked the door open looking for a bottle of water. Unimaginable concoctions and mushrooms stared back at him along with a few other things he thought he saw move. Toward the back of the fridge, a lone bottle of water hid behind a wet glove. Benny carefully reached for the bottle trying not to think why a wet glove might be in Ned’s fridge. He carefully examined the bottle in case Ned was storing God-knows-what in the bottle instead of water and decided the seal had not been broken. He opened it and sniffed. No smell. Benny decided it must be water.

  Running back to the couch, Benny almost tripped over the homemade device Ned had built to shock himself. He checked on Ned who was still out, sat the bottle of water next to him, and went back for the shocking device. Benny picked it up and carried it into the kitchen.

  In the kitchen, he pulled open drawers until he found a pair of scissors. The same drawer also contained a pair of pliers. Benny put the device on the kitchen table and studied it. It had twenty or so wires sticking up and out from all directions with differing colors.

  Unsure whether he would shock himself or not, Benny held his breath as he chose a red wire and cut. Nothing happened. He cut a blue one. Nothing. A yellow. Smoke. With one eye closed, he began snipping furiously at wire after wire as the device hummed and whistled and spewed. Finally, with the room filled with smoke, it stopped. Benny heard coughing.

  He ran to Ned as he sat bolt upright. “Thirty!” he screamed.

  “Thirsty,” Benny corrected, handing him the bottle of water. Ned grabbed it and poured it down his throat. Benny watched, amazed that almost all the water went in his mouth.

  Ned let out a tremendous sigh.

  “You were really thirty.”

  “You killed it,” Ned said. “I smell the smoke.”

  “Yes, I killed it. If you rebuild it, I will kill you. I will destroy the mushroom farm, and I will… oh God Ned, just please stop being so weird.”

  “OK. It was a good study,” Ned tried.

  “No, it wasn’t. It was almost as stupid as someone having a wet glove in their refrigerator.”

  “That’s the glove I touched Stephen Hawking with.”

  “And why is it wet?”

  “Secret.”

  “Fine. I have a feeling I don’t want to know.”

  “You don’t.”