Seed of Evil by Greig Beck (great reads .txt) 📕

“Yep, plus no coffee machine, or even juicer.” Shelly’s mouth was pressed in a line.

“Okay, I think we’ll keep that rule for now.” Mitch grinned and concentrated on the road.

They came off Newton Street and turned into Mills Street. He slowed the car.

“There it is, number 2. That’s Doctor Wainwright’s place.” Shelly craned forward. “Ooh, and he’s burning rubbish at this time of year—very naughty.”

They pulled in at the column of smoke. It was a well-kept cottage with a slatted fence, vines growing through it, and a rusted post box just peeking over the top. They sat watching the rising smoke for a few seconds.

“Would he have forgotten about the party?” Mitch asked.

“No. He’s old, but not out with the squirrels old, if you know what I mean,” she replied.

Mitch was first out of the car, and he immediately smelled the chemical stink of plastic burning.

“I don’t think he’s burning leaves. Or even squirrels. Come on.” He walked briskly up the path and then bounded up the few steps to the landing. He pressed the bell.

“Just open it.” Shelly came up quickly behind him.

Mitch half-turned. “Just give him a second.” He waited.

Shelly cupped her hands around her face and peered in through a window. “Nothing moving inside.” She came back and stood on the other side of the doorframe. “Come on, he might have fallen down. He’s old, remember?”

“Yeah, okay.” Mitch sorted through the keys, choosing one that looked like a front door key. He stuck it in the lock, and it turned first go. He pushed the door open and peered around inside.

“Hello? Ben?”

Mitch concentrated but heard nothing but the deep and ponderous ticking of a large clock somewhere further in.

“Doctor Wainright.” Shelly’s voice flooded the cottage, but after a few more seconds there was still nothing but the clock again. “Come on,” she said and led Mitch in.

She quickly went from the living room to his bedroom, opened a closet door and found it empty. Same for the drawers, as all the clothing and personal items were gone.

“Strange. Looks like he’s all packed up,” she said and turned slowly. “Try the kitchen and washroom.” Shelly was obviously speaking to herself, as she sped out of the bedroom.

Mitch tried to keep up. “Slow down.”

The house looked like it had been vacated and even the refrigerator was empty.

“What’s he been living on?” Shelly pursed her lips and then slowly let the refrigerator door close. She then quickly crossed to the window over the sink and peered out into the backyard.

“There’s his bonfire and also the only place left to look—the shed.” She pulled open the backdoor, stepped down the few steps, and marched across the 50 feet of grass to the small wooden structure.

Mitch followed and saw that the rubbish pile was still smoldering and giving off toxic chemical gasses. Then he saw the reason—within it were the remains of jackets, pants, and even leather shoes. There was also a laptop computer, something that could have been a blackened mobile phone, and piles and piles of papers, books, and melting plastic folders.

Just at its edge was another set of keys. Mitch crossed to the smoldering pile and carefully reached in to grab them.

“Ouch.” The carbon-encrusted keys were still hot, and he tossed them from hand to hand for a few seconds.

“Hurry up,” Shelly hissed over her shoulder.

“Something is very wrong here,” Mitch said as he caught up.

She grabbed the large door handle and turned to him. “Maybe he already left.” She tugged open the paint-peeling door that skidded along the ground. Now wider, it allowed the single room to be flooded with light.

Shelly gasped, eyes bulging. Mitch looked in over her shoulder, and even though he had seen horrific things as a military medic, this took him by surprise.

Ben Wainright was hanging by the neck; face black and tongue protruding like a fat, dark slug from between his lips. A small stool was overturned below him and also a small pool of fluid, undoubtedly urine.

“Stay there.” He rushed inside to grab the body. Immediately, he felt the cold, stiffness of rigor mortis in the cadaver and he let it go for a moment where it now swung, making the rope stretch and squeak.

Shelly hadn’t moved but finally managed to close her mouth. “He…hung himself? Why did he hang himself?”

Mitch righted the stool and was about to step up, but then thought that it was a good question. Though the probability was he did commit suicide, in the event it was something else, he should avoid disturbing the body.

He backed up, bumping into Shelly. “I don’t know, but we better not touch anything else. Let’s call the sheriff.” Mitch grabbed her arm and led her out of the shed, but she kept looking back over her shoulder as if expecting Wainright to jump out at them.

Mitch dragged the door shut and sighed. He knew he’d need to make calls to the sheriff, to the mayor, Karen, and all this while they’re back at the party sipping on Melnick’s mai tais and waiting for their guest of honor, who was now rudely swinging from a damn noose.

In 30 minutes more, Sheriff Dan Kehoe was on his way, and the mayor was breaking it to the party that their beloved Doctor Ben Wainright wouldn’t be making it for cake, ever.

“Shelly, as the resident medical professional that has to act as both physician and coroner, I have to hang out here for a while. But you don’t. Do you want me to drop you somewhere? I doubt the party will be continuing now.”

She looked back toward the house and slowly shook her head. “I want to know why he killed himself.” She folded her arms. “I’ll wait…with you.”

It was barely ten minutes more before Sheriff Kehoe arrived. He was alone and as he got out of his car, his face was grave.

“Show me,” was all he said.

CHAPTER 08

Eldon, Oakland County, Missouri – 2 weeks later

The ground began to shake.

Mitch