By the time Declan graduated
from the University he had all the information he could gather about his father
and his father’s family. He’d visited his grandfather once, but had found it a
worthless trip. Gerard’s Alzheimer’s had progressed to the point where trying
to get a logical thought from him was impossible. The best he could do was convince
the administrator at the rest home to agree to let him know if anything
changed, although they both knew that was totally unlikely.
He’d also checked out the
address on his grandfather’s driver’s license. It belonged to a huge home,
practically a mansion in Declan’s opinion. The land it stood on was surrounded
by tall, decorative shrubbery behind an equally tall fence. The only entrance
was through a padlocked and chained gate which barred the long driveway. On the
gate was a realtor’s sign. It looked as if it had been there for quite a long
time.
He put off calling the
realty company until well into his senior year. He was quite certain there was
nothing in the house at this point in time which would tell him anything about
his father.
But still he was curious to
see where his father had grown up, so early one Saturday morning he decided to
get in touch with the realtor.
When he called the realty
company they told him the house had been on the market since the time the owner
had become incapable of taking care of himself. The title was now in the hands
of the owner’s lawyers but, so far, no one had been interested enough in the
property to pay the asking price. Using the name of one of the grad students he
was acquainted with at the university he was able to convince the realtor his
‘father’ wanted him to take a look at the house before deciding to make the
long trip to the city to do so himself.
The woman had believed him
and that afternoon had met him at the front gate. She unlocked the padlock
before suggesting they walk up the long driveway so he could get a feel for the
size of the grounds surrounding the house. He’d agreed it was an excellent
idea.
When they got inside he was
suitably, and vocally, impressed. The place was huge, indeed more of a mansion
than a house. While she showed him around the ground floor he asked questions.
She answered them tersely as if she resented having to deal with a college
student she was obviously quite certain was just being nosy, despite who his ‘father’
was.
He began to feel the
familiar rage engulf him, exacerbated by the fact she was a blonde, bleached
but none the less a blonde, and close to his mother’s age.
“Is the basement furnished?”
he asked, his face a picture of innocent interest.
“You’re welcome to go see
for yourself,” she told him, leading him to the stairs. “I’ll wait here for
you.”
Oh I think not.
He left the mansion two
hours later a great deal wiser about exactly what the ‘game’ his father and
uncle had played involved.
When the realtor has
suggested he explore the basement on his own he’d simply grabbed her, choking
her into unconsciousness, and carried her down the stairs. He set her limp body
on a dusty sofa in what he presumed had once been a recreation room of some
sort and then went exploring for a safe place to play his own game. He’d
expected to find a furnace room or storage area which would work. Instead he’d
discovered a locked door. He broke it open and walked into a small room, empty
except for a workbench with dust-covered tools lying on it. Above him, in the ceiling,
were several large hooks. He knew instantly what they’d been used for; the
hooks and the tools.
So he’d availed himself of
them. The realtor had screamed until the moment she’d finally died, her blood
dripping onto a large tarp he’d found stored under the workbench. He wondered
it his father and uncle had used it for the same purpose.
When he finished he cut her
body down, wrapped the tarp around it, and dragged it to an empty chest freezer
which stood behind discarded furniture in another room in the basement.
As he drove away he speculated
how long it would take before her body was found.
It turned out she apparently
had neglected to tell anyone else at her office exactly where she was going,
only that she was showing a house. It was a large company, they handled a great
many houses, and so it had taken three weeks to discover her body.
Declan had followed the
story with the same interest as the rest of his friends. They debated what
might have happened and then who could have killed her. The grad student whose
name Declan had used became a person of interest until he was able to prove
beyond a doubt he had been with several other students studying for a mid-term
exam at the approximate time of her death.
By the time finals rolled
around the furor over the murder had died down. Graduation followed a week
later and then Declan packed up and returned home to New Mexico.
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