Dreams and Reality Set 3: Cannibal Dreams and Butchered Dreams

by Hadena James

  All of this was disturbing, but not as disturbing as the next observations. There was no dust. There were no cobwebs. A lamp near the front door, a long brownish stain ruining the lampshade, was plugged into an automatic timer. The timer was plugged into the wall. I hit the wall switch and the overhead light came on.

  I exited the house of horrors. Xavier still stood on the porch, staring at the railing. The paint had cracked and peeled. Any blood remnants had been erased by exposure to the weather. Weeds were growing up over the driveway, claiming the land by hiding and scattering the gravel. A medium sized tree was growing in the middle of it.

  Xavier moved, walking down the steps and pointed to the side of the house. Brand new water and electric meters were connected to the building. I moved closer to them. They were digital allowing them to be read from a distance using a gizmo that you held in your hand.

  “Maybe someone is living here,” I said.

  “No, while there wasn’t dust or many signs of aging, there also wasn’t any sign of life. People leave traces. The traces left in that house are almost fifty years old.”

  “Except for the cleaning,” I pointed out.

  “Yes, but if you noticed, the floors were swept, but not mopped. Someone is cleaning it, but they are being careful in the cleanings. It reminds me of a shrine, not a house.”

  “A murder shrine?”

  “It’s not the first shrine we’ve found. It’s just never been an entire house. And someone is paying the electric and water bills. They’ve even had new meters installed so that the county doesn’t have to come down the driveway. If I had to guess, I’d say they walk to the edge of those woods and read the meter,” Xavier pointed back towards Gertrude’s house. “Is your great-aunt bat shit crazy?”

  “Yep, but it’s not her kill, why would she keep it pristinely gruesome?”

  “Admiration?” Xavier suggested. “Or perhaps she’s hiding more than one family member.”

  “It’s hard to hide a person for fifty years. It would be overwhelming to hide two of them for ten years.”

  “But not impossible.”

  “No one is that good at multitasking.”

  “We’ll agree to disagree, but when we find both of them, huddled together in some shack, keeping warm with a jaguar, I get to say I told you so.” Xavier smiled. “What did you think of the house?”

  “I think that my grandfather was one sick puppy. He bathed, made coffee, and watched TV after slaughtering my grandmother. To me, I think tossing the leftover body parts in the driveway was just his way of getting the body out of the house.”

  “Why would he need to get the body out of the house after butchering it?”

  “How about the smell?” I offered.

  “It would smell horrendous.” Xavier started walking back through the woods. “Where else would you hide your not really dead son?”

  “Me?” I asked.

  “Well, not you personally, but your family.”

  “I don’t know,” I shrugged at him. “I think most of them are nutty. It could be that none of the family members wanted to be involved or it could be that someone is putting him up.”

  “Why would none of the family be involved and yet Joe know?”

  “Because we aren’t good at keeping secrets from other family members. The outside world, but not within the family. And while they have been known to run moonshine, cheat on cattle sales, and be jackasses, murder, especially serial murder, isn’t acceptable.”

  “They draw the line at murder?” Xavier gestured towards the disappearing house.

  “It brings too many questions. If my grandfather hadn’t disappeared, someone would have turned him in just to make sure that the police weren’t poking around too much. Unfortunately, he went on the run.”

  “So, no one turned him in?” Xavier asked.

  “No, everyone turned him in. The entire family was cooperative to try to avoid scrutiny. They all said he was the murderer. They failed to mention his war crimes, but it didn’t matter. They went through everyone’s lives with a fine-toothed comb. A few people got in trouble for tax evasion, but most of them were squeaky clean.”

  “Why are they so concerned if there wasn’t anything to be concerned about?”

  “Not all skeletons are illegal.”

  We reached my great-aunt’s house. Gabriel and John had Lee outside. He wasn’t handcuffed, but he was shackled at the ankles. He wasn’t going anywhere anyway, his oxygen tank wasn’t portable without help. Lee himself hadn’t been able to move the portable tank in years. Time had been bad to Lee. Most of his body had given up, only his heart and brain were in perfect working order.

  “We didn’t find August, but Gertrude Clachan is a little weird,” Xavier told our leader.

  “Ha!” Lee snorted. “Weird? The woman is pure fucking evil. You guys are Marshals, put me in witness protection and I’ll tell you everything. Like August ain’t my son, we couldn’t have kids because I couldn’t have kids, not because she couldn’t. And I’ll tell you why she keeps that house so damn clean, including replacing the sofa.”

  I turned my gaze towards Lee. The sofa was clean because she had replaced it, but she hadn’t replaced anything else. It made me wonder how much of the scene was staged by my great-aunt and how much of it was real. I really wanted to know though.

  “Once Gertrude’s behind bars, you’d be safe,” John told him.

  “Um,” I frowned. “Lee is a Clachan, on his mother’s side.”

  “Family tree forgot it needed to fork?” Xavier asked.

  “No,” I glared at him. “Yes, he’s a cousin, but he isn’t a close cousin. He’s like Gertrude’s sixth cousin or something.”

  “Seventh,” Lee corrected.

  “Ok, seventh cousin,” I told Xavier. John gave me a look that was pure disgust.

  “Actually, seventh cousins are perfectly fine to marry and procreate. Anything after five are genetically diverse enough to have a good chance of not passing along strange diseases. In some states, it’s fourth cousins.” Xavier defended my family tree missing a few forks. He could poke fun at it, but John wasn’t allowed to have an opinion, yet.

  “I still don’t know why you’d need a new identity if we arrest August and Gertrude,” I told Lee.

  “You think that’s all I know about?” He smirked. “For instance, I know how your grandfather always knows where you are. I also know that he was the murder weapon, not the murderer in your grandmother’s death and that he’s killed a few others along the way that weren’t during the war. He tried to kill you.”

  “We’ll discuss it,” Gabriel put Lee in the squad car and everyone turned to stare at me. I felt like a bug.

  “They are all pretty serious about your grandfather being your stalker,” Xavier said. “Do you really think he’d try to kill you?”

  “Did you close your eyes when you were in the house?” I snipped at him. “If he has tried to kill me, he failed but got away. I can’t think of any attacks that match that description. However, I am interested in how he knows where I am, all the time. And if Lee can tell us where August is, that would be helpful.”

  I was suddenly shoved to the ground. The force on my back was hard enough to be painful. Warmth spread underneath my shirt and the skin burned. There was shouting around me. I rolled over onto my back. The pain increased. After a few moments, it began to fade. Clouds drifted lazily overhead. The sky was a lead grey, but not overcast. I never really took the time to look at the sky. I always expected it to be there when I looked up. So far, it hadn’t disappointed me.

  My ears picked up the sound of a rifle bolt sliding followed by another shot. I wondered if it was Michael’s sniper.

  I stared at the sky and waited for another bullet to tear into me. I hoped it was a headshot, I was convinced they were the least painful.

  Twenty-Nine

  The shots had stopped several minutes earlier. My uncle, Joe, was in custody, along with an old bolt action Colt rifle. The cloud
s were still floating by overhead. Xavier was shouting.

  “Oh god,” he groaned. “I’m going to roll you over, Ace.”

  “He missed,” I told Xavier.

  “Not according to the blood pooling under you.”

  “My vest gave.”

  “What do you mean your vest gave?” Gabriel asked, coming into my vision.

  “My vest gave out. I’m not bleeding from a bullet wound, I’m bleeding because the ceramic plate in the back of my vest cracked. It’s stabbing me. Only, that part of the vest isn’t rated for stabbing. It isn’t life threatening. It’s just annoying.”

  Xavier began tearing at the snaps and straps that held my vest onto me. He jerked and tugged, causing me to shake and jiggle on the ground. It didn’t look dignified but I refused to help him.

  “If you aren’t injured, why aren’t you moving?” Xavier asked. His voice was high-pitched and frantic.

  “Really?” I turned my head to look at him. He stopped jerking on me. “My uncle just shot me in the back. Most of the people who try to kill me do it face to face.”

  “So what, you’re contemplating your uncle’s cowardice for shooting you in the back?” Xavier asked.

  “No, I am realizing that aside from Eric, my grandfather, and me, my family isn’t exactly adept at the whole killing thing. They should stick to running moonshine and doing bait and switches with cattle.”

  “Are you delirious?” Gabriel asked.

  “Not in the least,” I sat up and pulled off the vest that Xavier had been desperate to remove. The ceramic plate fell out in four pieces. A fifth, much smaller piece, was visible through the Kevlar backing. Xavier was already poking and prodding at the wound through my jacket and shirt.

  “Then what are you rambling about?” Gabriel asked.

  “Her family used to sell people fancy cattle but when it came time to butcher them, they’d switch them out for less fancy cattle, pocketing the extra money. Before that, I believe they were bootleggers or something.” Xavier answered for me.

  “Do you have a lot of criminals in your family?” John asked.

  “Relatively speaking, no,” I answered. “However, I have a huge family. The people you’ve met have just been first cousins, aunts, uncles, great-aunts, and great-uncles. My great-grandparents had nine children. Gertrude, Nina and my grandfather had been the three youngest, a few years separating them. One of the older ones died while he was young, Nina never had children and Gertrude had August, but the rest bred prolifically. One of my grandfather’s brother’s raised sixteen children. If we were to do a per capita of Clachan family members and crime, we have a rather low criminality rate. It’s about one in twenty or so.”

  “Of course, when they do go bad, they go really bad,” my cousin Kyle walked up to us. “We could hear the shots down the road.”

  “Go away,” I told him.

  “If you arrest Joe and Gertrude, you’ll find a lot of us will become cooperative. How bad did he shoot you?”

  “While he did technically shoot me, he didn’t injure me. My vest gave out. Too many bullets over time.” I told him. “I’m guessing Lee is dead.”

  “Yes,” Gabriel said.

  “Hey Kyle, do you know where August is hidden?” I bluntly turned on my cousin as I found my feet and stood up.

  “No, but I know he’s alive.” Kyle admitted. “Do you need a reason to arrest Gertrude?”

  “It would be helpful,” I told him.

  “Check her basement,” Kyle nodded once and started walking away. “Oh and once the witch is dead, we’re burning down your grandparents house, if you don’t mind?”

  “Why are you telling me?” I asked.

  “You own it,” Kyle said. “It passed to you when Eric went to prison. We sort of need your permission.”

  “Burn it down,” I told him. “If you want, I’ll bring the marshmallows.”

  “I thought you guys didn’t like each other?” John said.

  “We don’t,” Kyle told him. “Doesn’t mean we can’t be respectful.”

  “I’m confused,” John said.

  “Why is it confusing? She’s Aislinn Clachan, killer of killers, granddaughter of The Butcher, and while the rest of us were being reared like sheep, she was bucking the system because she’s a psychopath who everyone’s afraid of. Why do you think she was so vehemently disowned?”

  “And I believe that they are all sheep,” I agreed. “I’ve never been fond of sheep. That’s why I like Nyleena, she had the courage to not be herded into a life she didn’t want.”

  “Why was she disowned?” John asked, he still looked confused.

  “Because my grandfather’s siblings were in charge. In me, they saw the man that butchered his wife. They knew they couldn’t control me, so they voted me off the island instead.”

  “Her father was funny like that too,” Kyle said. “Gertrude tried to use him, but when he refused, he was considered an outcast as well.”

  “So, this entire dislike thing is based on something as simple as genetics?” Xavier asked.

  “We’re all Catholic, so they couldn’t hate me for my religion. That only left genetics.” I answered.

  “Yeah,” Kyle started walking away again.

  “You’re family is dysfunctional,” Xavier told me.

  “All families are dysfunctional,” I responded, already heading for my great-aunt’s basement, curious to see what secrets were hidden in the dark recesses. “You show me a normal family and I’ll find out what they keep hidden from the public eye.”

  “My family isn’t dysfunctional,” John mumbled as we walked in a group.

  “You’re wife left you because you couldn’t find her little girl’s killer, so you joined the SCTU,” I told him. “How is that not dysfunctional?”

  “How’d you...” John’s footfalls stopped with his voice.

  “Ace is very perceptive as long as she doesn’t have to turn those powers of perception on herself.” Gabriel answered. “You don’t have to tell her things, she just observes and draws conclusions. Scary conclusions because they are rarely wrong. Which reminds me, we’re going to talk about the fact that I think you knew your grandfather was The Butcher when we finish this case.”

  “I didn’t know,” I told my boss. “I suspected, but I didn’t know.”

  I flipped on the light switch for the basement. No horrid, overwhelming odors reached my nose. No blood stains immediately jumped out for my eyes to find. It looked like a basement, complete with support timbers and concrete flooring. A washer and dryer sat on one side, the other side seemed to be storage. The storage area was very well organized with labels on every plastic container. My mind catalogued the labels. In the third stack, about half way down, was a large, black container with a lid duct taped on. The label read “Furs.”

  Without regard for the other containers, I jerked the handle, pulling it free. The others collapsed like the ending of a Jenga game. They bounced across the floor, skittering in all directions. The one I held had cracked around the handle from the rough treatment.

  “Gloves,” Gabriel groaned.

  “Oh for Pete’s sake,” I groaned back and began searching my pockets for a pair of gloves. I came up with leather ones, lined in wool. They were fitted for my small hands. I pulled them on, knowing that everyone would have preferred I used crime scene approved gloves.

  “Wait, should she open it? It’s a conflict of interest,” John said.

  “This entire case is a conflict of interest,” Gabriel said. “However, as long as she is monitored and acts within the boundaries of the law, then it’s fine.”

  “It’s a very wide boundary,” Xavier snickered.

  Ignoring them, I tore off the duct tape. Several different animal pelts could be seen just from my position over the container. However, one caught my interest immediately. It was black with darker spots. I pulled it out. Gabriel whistled. Xavier’s mouth fell open.

  “Melanistic jaguar?” I asked.

  �
�It has to be that or a leopard,” Gabriel answered. “However, it looks like a jaguar to me.”

  I set it aside and stopped. My eyes saw the skin, but my brain refused to accept it. With trembling hands I pulled it out.

  “Holy shit,” Gabriel stepped forward. We both gently held the white and black striped fur. White tigers were endangered, owning their pelts was illegal.

  “Uh guys,” Xavier had moved forward. He was pointing inside the box. “It gets worse.” As he spoke, he was pulling on leather gloves himself. This was unusual for Xavier, since nitrile gloves seemed to reproduce in his clothing. Very carefully he pulled out a large pelt. It was a very bright orange, since I was staring at animal skins, I’d describe it as tiger orange. Large black spots decorated the pelt, but the spots had orange in the very middle. It was beautiful. I had never seen anything like it.

  Xavier held it like it was made of very fragile gold leaf. As he showed it to us, he kept checking to make sure that it wasn’t touching the concrete floor or being stretched too much in any area. After a few seconds, he carefully rolled it up and tucked it back into the box.

  “Well don’t keep us in suspense,” Gabriel scolded.

  “I’m not an expert, but I believe that’s the skin of pantheras pardus orientalis.” Xavier said.

  “It’s a leopard,” I answered before anyone asked.

  “It’s not just a leopard,” Xavier frowned. Before he could finish, Detective Russell joined us.

  “Can we arrest her on this?” Detective Russell asked, looking at the tiger skin Gabriel and I were holding.

  “Yes, she’s in violation of several laws,” Xavier put the lid on the tote without adding the pelt we were holding. “And we need an expert to know exactly what laws and how many.”

  Unger

  Patterson found himself back at the Unger farm. It still looked deserted, but appearances could be deceiving and he had been deceived the first time here. After killing George Killian, he’d gone to pay Lee a visit. Lee had been willing to talk, to tell secrets, one so devious, it had nearly resulted in Patterson killing him.