Copyright 2017 © Afshan Jaffery
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THE HOUSE ON THE
LYNCH
STREET
AFSHAN JAFFERY
Tom was working neck-breaking hard. It was a Friday afternoon, and he had to finish repairing the air conditioner before seven o’clock. He was breaking a sweat in the tropical summer’s heat and cursing Steve under his breath. Tom was a six feet tall, slightly plump hardware store owner. His father, along with him, managed to start a hardware shop on the ground floor of their old house, three decades later that establishment was his only foundation in life.
San Felipe was a small town with not much career opportunities in Tom’s opinion. He was working his ass off for as long as he remembered. In his teenage, Tom worked at the shop because his father thought that learning a skill was more important than wasting time on reading books. In his youth, he had no other path to turn to without making himself financially vulnerable. When it came to marriage, he knew by heart that women don’t take men seriously until they have a rock-solid source of income. Sometimes, in his spare time, he thought what would happen if he sold the shop after his parents’ death and moved out; the idea always gave him pleasure. Martha would have never come in his life in that case, and he would be living happily somewhere far away from his cynical neighbors.
Now when he looked back, he realized that he always lived under the fear of Martha. Be it marriage, be it divorce. It was invariably her, calling the shots, but then she ran away with her lover, and he went broke. They had married against the wish of her parents, and none of her family members ever came home to meet her. When she vanished without leaving a clue, he talked to his neighbor Mr. Hudson about what makes a woman does it. Mr. Hudson was convinced that Martha was having an affair which gave her enough courage to take such a drastic step at this stage of life.
Apart from the shop, the only things he had left with was a debt amounting to fifteen thousand dollars, and an incredibly incompetent teenage assistant, Sam. Among the debt and Sam, he didn’t know which one he wanted to get rid of first.
He swept the sweat from his forehead and looked at the finished product. Steve called him just this morning and asked him to repair his air conditioner before sunset; he had one of his monthly dinner planned for friends and neighbors. He was already knee deep in fixing the generator for Mr. Hudson and in no mood for taking up some extra work on the weekend, but when Steve offered him a hundred bucks, he agreed.
“Mr. Rodger,” a teenage guy, with a copper complexion, and clothes hanging loosely on his frame, barged into the shop breathing heavily. “He is coming.”
Tom quickly moved to the purchase counter and gestured the boy to get back to the air conditioner. Seconds later, the worn-out door opened, and a man walked in. He was a middle-aged man, wearing a smart vested suit.
“Mr. Harrington,” Tom greeted him uncharacteristically.
“Tom!” Edward Harrington smiled at him.
“I guess you want the usual,” Tom tried his best to keep his voice casual, but his heart was pounding heavily in his chest.
“Only if you didn’t get the 2.5 Gallon I had asked last week,” Edwards took his cigarette pack out of the coat.
“I had asked my supplier. I will also ask the other vendors in the area.” Tom’s hands were shaking while he packed the quart of most undiluted concrete dissolving agent in the market. “And please, don’t smoke here. You know it is risky around flammable items.”
“Oh!” Edwards lit the cigarette and threw the match stick without attention. “I am going anyway. See you at the dinner!”
Tom took a deep breath as soon as he went out. It was Edwards’ eighth visit to his shop in the past four weeks since he had come to live in the neighborhood and he always asked the same thing, Concrete Dissolver. He was known to be a scientist and became famous for his knowledge of latest scientific and technological development going around the world. He was a charming guest at the parties, there was something about his gray eyes that Tom did not trust. He was there but still not there; always emotionally detached with pride!
The most suspicious thing about Edwards was his lifestyle. He had the latest model of Volkswagen which no one could afford in the neighborhood. He wore expensive clothes, and his wristwatch alone could cover a good part of debt looming over Tom’s head. What a person of that much substance doing in this middle-class area? Tom was the only one thinking this question. Most of the locales were in awe of Edward Harrington’s worldly-wise personality but not Tom. Tom had to endure a long sleepless night, every time the scientist buzzed him.
Today, he decided to bring up this issue with Steve. The Sullivan, Steve and Lisa - husband wife, were the friendliest couple in town. Steve Sullivan was a cheerful and hospitable man, working as a manager in a bank. He had passed the fourth decade of his life gracefully and married to a pretty young woman two years ago. He was not rich but thanks to his wife, who looked after her house and finances well, he could enjoy offering dinners to his friends every other month. They had no children.
Though they were living in the same area since a decade, he came closer to them only after Martha left. After her departure, everywhere he went, women looked at him with accusing glances. Wife beater, Misogynist, blah blah blah. Mrs. Anderson, the bookshop lady, who usually was very polite with him, suddenly started to ignore him. At that time of extreme social isolation, Lisa and Steve embraced him with open arms. He was grateful to them, especially to Lisa who did not join the other members of her gender in boycotting him. She could relate to his feelings as she had also been isolated by many people in the town. She was beautiful, educated, stylish and somehow, fell in love with man two decades older than her. People, most of them were women, thought that she might have an eye on Steve’s money.
That night, Steve Sullivan was laughing as usual in his living room along with his friends from the neighborhood. Most of them had passed their forties with children move to the major cities for colleges and jobs. The main attraction of the night, Lisa Sullivan, busy serving dinner to the guests, was wrapped in an elegant, knee-length salmon dress which was swiping the floor beside her everywhere she goes. Her hairs were crowned with pearls giving her an appearance of a goddess. Tom felt that she liked to play with her dress and hairs more often than others.
“Expensive! Isn’t it?” Someone close to him whispered, startling Tom. It was none other than Dr. Edwards, the self-proclaimed scientist, holding his drink, and smiling at Tom as if he was his best friend.
“What?” Tom asked.
“Talking about the whiskey,” Edwards smiled at him and took the seat beside him. Oh, that smile; Tom actually hated that smile, “and also about our host.”
Tom didn’t answer. Somehow, he didn’t want to be a part of any conversation about Sullivan.
“Old whiskey and a young wife are the best antidotes for middle-age.” Edwards smiled at him as if giving a lesson to a novice. His eyes were still fixed at Lisa.
Tom cleared his throat and said, “Never seen you here before.”
“Yes. I met Mrs. and Mr. Sullivan at a shop few days earlier, and they invited me for dinner. Of course, the young Mrs. Sullivan was intimidated by the fact that you can be lively and charming at any age.” Edwards chuckled.
“I have heard lots of things about your house. People say it is very stylish.” Tom tried to take the discussion in another direction. Edward behaved like a typical old, rich man with too much sense of self, smitten by a young woman, under the dim romantic light of the living room.
&
nbsp; “Oh! By people you mean your extremely curious assistant? Every time he saw me, he starts running as if he was a spy.” Edward’s suspicion was correct. After all, Tom had had Sam spying on him. Tom tried to change the topic once again.
“Can I see it?” Tom decided to overcome his fear of that man finally.
“Of course, You can come with me tonight, if you have time.” Edwards inspected him from top to bottom, looking at his old worn out clothes, and smiled again, “and by the looks of it, you have plenty of time.”
Tom stopped the urge to punch him right there, but he controlled himself. Already he didn’t have many friends left in town, and he certainly didn’t want to get the label of party pooper from the friends he had. Alright then, at his place, he thought lividly; the whiskey had started pumping up his veins.
#
After taking leave from the hosts, Edwards asked Tom to have a stroll with him as the house was not very far. Two men started walking under the starlight, but after walking for a long time, Edwards showed no signs of reaching the destination. Within thirty minutes, they had arrived almost at the edge of town, and Edwards turned to a road which was completely deserted, and there was neither a house nor any other type of establishment in sight.
“I think we are going on the wrong path,” Tom stopped, looking around. The street was pitch dark, and all the signs of inhabitation were vanished behind them.
“No, this is the right path. Come on. Keep walking.” Edwards still sounded buoyant, but Tom felt a shiver down the spine.
“Why do you live so far out of the city?” He tried to keep up the pace with his companion who was showing no sign of
“It is actually not that far; hardly takes an hour walk which is good for health at this age.”
“But still it is kind of lonely here.”
“I am a scientist, pal. It is easy for me to get a permit for conducting experiments out of the city than in the middle of a residential area full of innocent people.”
Tom had never been in that area of the town. If someone magically teleported him here in sleep, he would have thought that it was a different country. In the silent and chilly darkness, he was unable to make sense of his surrounding, but he was able to see that it was totally barren. No mountains, no trees, no houses; the desolate land was spread around them like a battlefield after the combat. The wind was wailing in his ears as if hundreds of soldiers, riding on the horses were coming to attack him, but there was no battlefield, and no soldiers, yet a sense of doom gripped Tom's heart.
“What does this place call?” Tom asked to get rid of his thoughts.
“It didn’t have a name before I came here. The agent called it the house out of city. I am thinking of naming it Lynch Street.”
“That’s a strange name. What does that mean?”
“It goes well with the experiment I am conducting here.”
Finally, after walking for ten minutes in silence, Tom was finally able to see the silhouette of a house rising in the distance. It was completely drenched in darkness, and there was no sign of a living soul in it. Edwards quickly opened the lock, and they both got in. It was pitch dark inside as well. Edwards took out a torch from his pocket and asked him to follow. Tom had no other option except walking behind him as he could not ask for leave at this point, but he was uncomfortable like a porcupine near a fisher.
After going through a labyrinth of corridors, which were full of the fragrance of fresh flowers, they entered a room which was brightly lit and could serve the purpose of both a laboratory and a living room. More than half of the room was taken over by counters occupied with glass apparatus, funnels, and test tubes. There were couches pushed with the wall, lacking any sense of decor. A bed was also made up on one of the couches. There were a small television and a room fridge in the corner as well. Tom felt a little better, as he was expecting something fearsome.
“So, what exactly did you want to see?” Edwards had taken out beers from the fridge.
“Is this all?” Tom asked Edwards taking the beer from him as he set down on a couch.
“Yes.” Edwards sat beside him. “All in the sense of what I need. There are other rooms in the house as well, but I don’t use them. They are mainly for keeping the records of my research. This quarter is enough for me.”
“No partner?” Tom was unable to suppress his curiosity.
“No. Not since a long time. Better stay single than divorced and broke.” He winked at him. Bloody dog. He is taunting me again, Tom felt a wave of anger burning inside him.
“But you just said something about having a young wife.”
“Well, I have just recently fallen in love after a very long time.” Edwards tried to look embarrassed but it was evident that he was quite pleased with himself.
“Really? ... so, you are dating?”
“Sort of. Basically, she is married, so that is kind of a dead end.” Edwards laughed all the sudden then tried to explain. “Poor choice of words. Anyways I can’t wait for her husband’s death because I might die before that bastard. The curse of middle aged love!”
“Wow,” Tom felt a little jealous. “She also likes you?”
“You ask wrong questions, Tom Rodger, and many. Try asking few but useful ones.” Edwards started to stroll in the room. “For example, why I brought you here?”
“Err.” Tom felt clueless for a moment. “To show me your house.”
“Puff. It’s a house, not a museum; there is nothing to show. I brought you here to ask for help.”
“What help can I offer?” I should be the one asking for help, Tom thought. How about giving me your watch?
Edwards set down again, “if you help me, I will make you rich beyond your imagination.”
Tom’s heart skipped a beat. People said that every loser gets a chance to change his life upside down. If this was his time to shine, then he was pumped up to milk it in the best possible manner. Tom stared at him, listening to the heavy pounding of his heart.
Edwards took a deep breath and said, “I want you to give me your assistant.”
“What?” Whatever Tom had expected; it was not this. He stared at him blankly. “But you can hire one.”
“No. I can’t. Puff!”
“Sam is just another teenager, and he is not exactly smart enough to make himself useful.”
“And he is an immigrant.” Edwards made a point.
“So, what?”
“Where is his family?”
“In some Nigerian village.”
“How many people know him personally in this town?”
“No one, I guess.” Tom was unable to see the relevance of these questions with him getting rich.
“Where does he live?”
“In a lodge.”
“Hmmm. So, if something, by chance, happens to him, do you think someone would come looking for him?”
“No. I don’t think so but what do you want exactly?”
“Look,” Edwards sighed, “Scientific knowledge is obtained by working on assumptions. We work on probabilities and possibilities. Sometimes the experiment becomes fatal for the subject, and there is no way of knowing it beforehand. Usually, scientists start with testing on animals to know the exact type of adverse effects before experimenting on humans, but I don’t want to go that way, and I also don’t want to spend my winter age in a prison cell either. Your assistant will be a rich man if he survives, he would not be able to make so much money in three life times by any other means, and if he doesn’t survive, his family would be the richest family in their village in Africa. This is a win-win situation for both of us.”
“How much are you willing to pay?” Tom wanted to know how exactly this experiment was important for Edwards.
“Fifty Thousand grand to him, as he would be the one risking his life, and ten percent to you for helping me.”
Tom’s heart sank; ten percent was not going to change anything.
“What exactly is the type of experiment?” he asked concealing h
is disappointment.
“I am working on a compound which can change body odor.”
“How can that be fatal?”
“Look, there are two types of sweat glands in the human body that are responsible for body odor. One is eccrine glands which exist all over the body; the other is apocrine glands which exist in underarms and pelvic area. It is the sweat secreted from apocrine gland which makes us more attractive for the opposite gender. Do you know how important this research is? Right odor can make a male more attractive to females and increase his chances of mating. The chemical, I have prepared, is not supposed to be fatal, but it may harm the subject, ranging from a simple rash in underarms to an absolute erectile dysfunction to skin burn with excruciating pain, but I don’t know it yet. It can also be miraculous and brings the exact result that I desire.” Edwards was looking lost in his thoughts. Tom felt bad for him; Edwards’s life was more uncertain than the life of a destitute plumber who fashioned himself by calling himself a hardware shop owner.
The House on the Lynch Street Page 1
