Red Rum: A Rosie Casket Mystery by R.M. Wild (top 100 novels of all time .TXT) 📕

ago. This place is his Maine getaway and he never comes. I suspect he only grabbed the land as a development opportunity. Eventually, he’ll tear it all down and put in a few condos overlooking the lake. In the meantime, this was the safest place I could think to bring you.”

“So you knew those men were coming?”

“I was suspicious, yes. In the event that he wants to use it as a corporate getaway, my client constantly has people coming out to work on the property. I know you don’t think much of me right now, but trust is a two-way street and you lied to me too. The men who came were not dressed in suits, were they?”

“No,” I said quietly.

“My client doesn’t know we’re here. That’s why it’s the safest place around. Nobody can trace you here.”

“If this house belongs to your client, how did you know the passcode to the door? How did you have access to the security system?”

“Like I said, I handled the real-estate transaction. All the numbers were in his papers.”

“And he doesn’t mind you nailing boards to his doors?”

“He never comes. He’s too busy to keep track of minor repairs,” Kendall said. He grunted, there was a shiver-inducing shriek, and then a bang as he dropped the last board on the floor. A moment later, he opened the door. “I’m so sorry I had to lock you in here. Do you forgive me?”

I pushed past him, hopped over the pile of boards and twisted nails, and ran straight for the bathroom. Thanks to the sun, the power had come back on and the bathroom lit up the moment I stepped onto the tiles.

I closed the door and dropped the seat.

Kendall knocked on the door.

I stopped peeing.

“I thought you might like to know that I talked to the police chief,” he said. The creep was standing right outside the bathroom door, close enough to give me stage fright. “When you’re finished, meet me downstairs and I’ll tell you what I found.”

37

Kendall pulled a bottle of Red Rum out of the grocery bag. “I hope you don’t mind if I indulge. It’s been a long, stressful day.”

He had no idea. I stood at the French doors, watching the mist. Depending on its height over the grass, the mist seemed to move at different speeds, as if it were reacting to invisible currents in the air. The fog over the lake was as thick as ever, but unlike the ribbons over the grass, it was sitting perfectly still, as though unaffected by any gradations in the wind.

But more importantly, there was no sign of the canoe down by the dock.

“I’d offer you something to eat, but it looks as if most of the food in the fridge has spoiled,” Kendall said. “Remind me not to waste my own money on solar panels.”

I kept one eye on his reflection. “What did you speak to the chief about?”

He poured himself a shot of rum and threw it back. Some of the red liquid touched his upper lip, making it look like he had just finished feasting on someone’s neck.

He wiped his mouth on his expensive sleeve. “You sure you don’t want any of this? It’s very good. It burns a bit on the way down and has a coppery aftertaste, but it’s very unique. I like unique.”

“What did the chief say, Kyle?”

He poured himself another shot and touched it to his lips. “Before I talked with the chief, I checked with the warden and he told me that Roman Caesar didn’t show up to work this morning. When I told the chief about his disappearance, they said they’d look into it. My guess is that Caesar sensed the heat, packed up his tent, and skipped town.”

“You know where he lives?”

Kendall gazed into his shot glass as if the rum contained the answers to the universe. Then he threw it back. “Yeah. I told you I represented him.”

“I didn’t know you made house calls.”

“I don’t. It depends on the case. The point is, Caesar could be anywhere right now. I do NOT recommend going back to your inn, not until they’ve caught this bastard. If he gets wind that you’re there, he’s liable to burn your house to the ground—with you in it.”

“Does he know where we are?”

“You mean here?”

“Yes.”

“No. Why would he?”

“I don’t know.”

Kendall poured himself another shot. “You sure you don’t want any?”

“Very.”

Kendall reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a thumb drive.

I had to squint to see it, but as soon as I recognized it, my heart skipped forward. It looked exactly the same as the one that had been left on my porch.

“I have something here that you might be interested in.”

I was afraid to ask. “What?”

“Watch,” Kendall said. Wobbly from the booze and needing to grab onto the back of the couch to keep from losing his balance, he shuffled over to the television. He plugged the thumb drive into the USB slot on the side of the television, used the remote to turn on the screen, and navigated the menu to the input that said Media.

“What is this?”

Kendall smiled. “You’ll see.”

The video started playing. The screen was black and white and for a second, I thought it was footage from the prison again, but then the picture bounced and I realized it was handheld, not security footage. In fact, it wasn’t black and white at all, but gray and green, the picture filled with black umbrellas.

Whoever was holding the camera was outside in the rain. The grass was bright green, but everything else was lost in a foggy haze, all except for the hard squares of reflective tombstones.

Kendall licked the rim of his shot glass, his tongue coated in red. “Blessed are those whom the rain falls on.”

I inched toward the television. The picture leveled. We were looking at an open grave. Hovering over it, on the apparatus used for lowering, was a plain coffin. Including the minister, there were ten