The intense scratching, claws digging at the thin wood of the door, awoke Saul who now shivered in the cold, dark closet. The sounds emanating from outside of the closet door were a mixture of animalistic grunting and the vicious decimating of the material that stood between Saul and whatever it was trying to get in. He knew it could not be an inteligent creature, otherwise it would have just opened the door. This thought didn't ease his fear though, only made it worse. A beast could not be reasoned with.
Even in the desperate coldness, Saul's forehead had beaded in sweat, a burning sensation creeping through his face and neck, a forewarning of the adrenaline rush to come. The door rattled and he could hear carpet being ripped off the floor, more grunting sounds, the noises an animal makes when working hard, like a wolf digging and biting madly at an elk's fleshy abdomen.
Saul pushed his back against the wall furthest from the door and tried to think of an escape, yet there was none. One door, three walls, a ceiling. Shit! The ceiling. The attic entrance only eight feet above.
A small crack broke through the door, letting in such a minuscule amount of light that Saul wondered of it was only his mind playing tricks. He pulled out his cell phone and opened it, illuminating the office with a digital hue. Pointing it at the door he could clearly see the small crack. Slowly pushing through the small crack was the point of a claw, black and sharp, leading to...Saul couldn't even imagine.
He had to get out, and fast. He had seen what had happened to his neighbor, and he knew the same fate awaited him if he could not escape.
Using the phone to illuminate the ceiling, he could see the small square, covered by a thin sheet of plywood, that led to the attic.
Jumping, Saul easily knocked the board up and partly out of the entry. Another jump and punch and it was out of the way, leaving the entry open.
Another large snap came from the door and more pale light, like the light of dusk, came through the door. Saul looked at his phone, the time was only a scrambled mess of unintelligible blobs, no longer numbers. The screen had begun to fade-his phone's battery was dying fast.
As the hole in the door was smashed again, Saul put the phone towards the ceiling once more and got his bearings. Putting the phone in his pocket, he jumped as high as his legs would allow and reached to the side of the attic entry. His fingers found the rough wood of the two by four that supported the surrounding drywall and Saul swung his lugs against the wall, trying to shimmy his way up through the hole.
His hands, sweaty from adrenaline, lost their grip and he fell backwards, crashing hard to the floor, the back of his head whipping against the wood beneath thin carpet. Bright lights flashed through his vision and dizziness overcame him. As he was losing consciousness he looked to the closet door, where a slick, hairless paw with four inch claws stuck through the hole and reached for Saul's throat.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Monday, August 18, 2008
Review of Cross County by Tim Waggoner Release Date-September 2008
Tim Waggoner's Cross County starts as a seemingly regular murder mystery/thriller, yet jumps quickly, and not very smoothly, to a horror story with supernatural overtones. While the writing is clumsy and long winded at times, the story is fast paced and the plot is good enough to keep the reader interested. With characters who are well conceptualized yet seem to lack some emotional base, the story seems like a made for television movie with over dramatic actors and a bad touch of melodrama. Yet, I truly enjoyed this book.With that said, I fully enjoyed the darkness of the “bad guys,” and the story as a whole. Waggoner's writing is descriptive and shows the reader the horror that the characters are feeling. The villains in this story were both known and not known to the reader, as the reader does not fully grasp the characters roles until late in the story. I liked this use of suspense and guess work that was left to the reader. The characters personalities unraveled as the story rolled on, giving one a good quick ride.The main flaw was the transition from horror to thriller throughout the book. Instead of a smooth transition from one genre to the next we took a bumpy ride and skipped to each genre without looking at where we were headed. This took a lot away from the story as I tried to put together the missing parts of the map we were following.Overall, the book was fun, and the fantasy horror aspects were well written for the most part. I would recommend this book to anyone who likes a quick, and different read, and for fans of the dark and mystical. And one more thing, it sets up a sequel nicely.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Darkening Sky: Part 1, Chapter 1: The Coming
"We crave darkness,
In our eyes as much as our hearts,
And the darkness craves us,
Our hearts as much as our minds..."
-Diary of a Lost Soul
Not one of the few who survived through the months, nor the many that perished, knew when or where it actually began. In the city of Independence, Oregon, on a loop of townhouses and apartments known as Falcon Loop, it was sighted just before noon on August 30th. The sky started turning dark like it was the slow oncoming of night, yet it was not the sun that was sinking below the western horizon, rather it was the darkness that was taking over, literally engulfing any light particles that threatened to show a thread of the earth's landscape. The streetlights outside homes seemed surrounded, no, eaten up by the darkness that traveled through the streets like a rolling storm cloud, heavy and threatening. The bright light from the streetlights was visible after the sun first shadowed out of the day. They illuminated the dry asphalt and concrete below through the twilight atmosphere, as strange sight to behold on an August afternoon. Slowly the black cloud of darkness swept through and covered the lamp in front of one particular townhouse on Falcon Loop. The tall lamp was then nothing but a dull glow. It reminded one of looking at a light pressed tightly to ones palm, as a child does. The light is visible as a reddish glow through the flesh and bones of the hand. This is how the light appeared after the blackness took over, just visible with a red hue pushing through the thick and hungry mass.Of course, the street light should not have been on at all. It was the middle of the day. Several minutes before the lamp turned on the light of the day had changed, much like when a storm cloud blocks the sun and leaves a shadow upon the earth. Only this cloud did not only leave a slight shadow, but it seemed to eat away at the light until almost complete darkness existed, leaving only a small spectrum of visibility for human eyes. The sun was still visible, yet it was much like the streetlights-just a red glow hardly seen in the sky. When the sun turned to this strange glow is when one street light in front of one townhouse, and many others throughout Independence, turned on.
Saul had been watching the phenomenon from his townhouse, watching out an upstairs window in awe and terror at the mobile blackness. He could actually see it moving along through the streets, morphing around shrubs, mailboxes, fences and lampposts like millions of little black bugs, microscopic as a single entity, but visible as a mass of billions, growing in number and further eliminating the light. The dark thing moved along the ground like a wall from a distance, first devouring the church two blocks down the street, then the apartments across from the church. The black mass moved slow and forcefully. Saul watched for several hours as the darkness swept over the townhouses in his vicinity who's porch lights had been turned on by tenants observing the frightful darkness. They turned on lights out of fright, a meager attempt to drive the darkness off. Saul too fell for this little game. He turned on every light in his house, including the front and back porch lights before the formless cloud entombed his home. As the cloud descneded upon the townhouse, the black blob seemed to spread upon the windows. He stared from one particular downstairs window that looked upon the front entry and driveway, where two porch lights were aglow in the oncoming dark. As the darkness took the two front porch lights he had turned on he slunk closer to the window in awe and dark admiration of the things beauty. The darkness crept over and engulfed the two fluorescent bulbs just like it had the street lamps, leaving Saul to grasp at straws as to what was happening as he stood in the bright light of his house, getting a close view of the black mass at work. Up close it morphed like smoke around objects in a smooth whisper. Yet it moved with intent, purpose, not by the laws of physics that govern other smokes movements. Then, with the windows lit up, the darkness attacked. Not fast. The darkness was like a sloth, moving slowly, as if it were examining the objects it surrounded and engulfed. Maybe it too felt fear. But if it felt fear, did that mean it could also feel hate, or any other of the plethora of human emotions? It came to the window in which Saul stood and spread upon the cold glass, yes, he noticed, it was cold glass in the former hot August day. His breath stuck to the window like it was a chilly winter night as he noticed he had pressed his nose to the window in order to get as close of a view as possible without stepping outside. He wanted to run then, but the window turning from clear glass to an opaque blackness thrilled him in a horrible way. He stood there, his breath caught in his throat and watched the dark paint the window one microscopic bead at a time. It looked as if an invisible hand had begun to spray paint the glass with the strange black stuff. Was it stuff, or thing? he thought.He could still see out the window, but it was like looking out a dark screen door covered in water at night. The visibility was shallow at best, the outdoor world a blur. He wondered what would have happened had he not had air conditioning on and had instead left the windows open. Would it seep in through the openings and engulf me like it did the light? He didn't want to think about it, but he had no choice. He had to think about the black blob that was taking over, or else he would only fear it without proxy and be paralyzed. Is it dangerous, is it alive, is it aware? This last part bothered him most of all. A blackness, a cloud or a mob of insects, or whatever the hell this thing was, being aware. It made no sense, much like the whole event.Once Saul's awe had expired, he stepped back from the window and quickly turned off the lights around him, running through the house and extinguishing every bulb that was shedding light. Immediately the blackness subsided from the windows, leaving like it had came, leaving the outside world a little more visible as he turned off the final light in the front upstairs bedroom that overlooked the front drive and several of the other townhouses across the street. That's when he saw the door across the street, just visible through the gloom, open and one of his questions was answered, at least he thought. It was Lance, the college student who roomed with two others in the townhouse who opened the door. As he slowly walked out light flooded from inside the house. The darkness took the light and entered the house. Saul could only see Lance's silhouette in the strange darkness, the darkness that now moved fast, like it was intent on performing some purpose. Lance walked into the middle of his driveway and stopped. Nothing seemed to happen to him, he just stood there, his head turning as he looked up and down the street. Saul was sure then that the darkness was not dangerous and a breath of fear left his chest. He continues to watch Lance out the window. It isn't dangerous...Saul hated being wrong. A loud screech vibrated through the dark and Saul saw Lance being grasped by...something. It to was a dark mass, only darker than the mass of darkness that it now seemed to come from. It appeared to come out of the dark cloud, stretching the mass like plastic wrap being pushed by a fist. The thing that took Lance was darker because of its density, if that was even possible, and with more structure. The thing killing Lance looked solid, unlike the pixelated mass that had taken the light. The dark beast had a human quality; two legs, two arms, head, Saul could see this. Yet they were inhuman as well, morphed in ways Saul could only vaguely grasp in his now racing and fearful mind. He could also see the wings raising off its back and the largeness of its body. Not tall, but large, stout, like a gorilla but even thicker. It grabbed Lance around the neck, a pure black beast silhouetted against more black. Lance had no time to scream as his head was twisted and he was carried off into the darkness. The only sound Saul heard then was the slamming of the door at Lance's house. His roommates had watched the whole thing from the now dark doorway.
Saul shuddered and now noticed the sweat dripping off his face, even though the air had turned cold and desperate. Retreating further into his house he went to the closet in the back bedroom, the master bedroom where he spent his nights. The closet was a walk in with plenty of space. Shutting the door and closing himself in complete darkness,even darker than the outside world, he lay his head against the wall and wiped the sweat from his brow, his breathing a rapid succession in rhythm with his trembling heart. Fear had taken all he had. He felt exhausted and closed his eyes wishing to sleep but his mind would give him no peace. Anxiety was not the word. Panic had come over him.
What the hell was that?
“Damn,” he said before he realized he had spoken aloud. He reached into his pants pocket with trembling hand and took out his cell phone. Open it and light would show, but in the closet he was not visible. Does that matter? I don't know the first fucking thing about whatever that is out their?
Dots, round masses of visible blobs had begun to enter his vision from the oncoming panic. Shit! He risked it and opened the phone, the screen seeming overly bright in the closet. No service. He knew without a doubt it was the cloud, the darkness, the Sickness. Yes, that is what it is, the sickness.
Saul snapped the phone closed and shoved it back into his pocket. Grabbing some shirts off of coat hangers he made a small pillow and lay his body down, his head now throbbing with every beat of his pounding heart. He needed water, but not yet. The sickness is still among the village. He realized what a strange thought that was. The village. What village, it was a god damned neighborhood built for college students, young families, and single mothers on a fixed income. Down the street it was HUD housing for the ones who could not afford even these townhouses and needed government help in order to live in those quaint apartments with old carpets and leaking pipes. A village? Hell, people hardly even talked, each person to preoccupied with themselves to bother making an acquaintance with a neighbor or two...
His breathing was harsh, he was hyperventilating, the panic attacks fist now seizing him in its tight grip, closing off his chest and clouding his mind.
In our eyes as much as our hearts,
And the darkness craves us,
Our hearts as much as our minds..."
-Diary of a Lost Soul
Not one of the few who survived through the months, nor the many that perished, knew when or where it actually began. In the city of Independence, Oregon, on a loop of townhouses and apartments known as Falcon Loop, it was sighted just before noon on August 30th. The sky started turning dark like it was the slow oncoming of night, yet it was not the sun that was sinking below the western horizon, rather it was the darkness that was taking over, literally engulfing any light particles that threatened to show a thread of the earth's landscape. The streetlights outside homes seemed surrounded, no, eaten up by the darkness that traveled through the streets like a rolling storm cloud, heavy and threatening. The bright light from the streetlights was visible after the sun first shadowed out of the day. They illuminated the dry asphalt and concrete below through the twilight atmosphere, as strange sight to behold on an August afternoon. Slowly the black cloud of darkness swept through and covered the lamp in front of one particular townhouse on Falcon Loop. The tall lamp was then nothing but a dull glow. It reminded one of looking at a light pressed tightly to ones palm, as a child does. The light is visible as a reddish glow through the flesh and bones of the hand. This is how the light appeared after the blackness took over, just visible with a red hue pushing through the thick and hungry mass.Of course, the street light should not have been on at all. It was the middle of the day. Several minutes before the lamp turned on the light of the day had changed, much like when a storm cloud blocks the sun and leaves a shadow upon the earth. Only this cloud did not only leave a slight shadow, but it seemed to eat away at the light until almost complete darkness existed, leaving only a small spectrum of visibility for human eyes. The sun was still visible, yet it was much like the streetlights-just a red glow hardly seen in the sky. When the sun turned to this strange glow is when one street light in front of one townhouse, and many others throughout Independence, turned on.
Saul had been watching the phenomenon from his townhouse, watching out an upstairs window in awe and terror at the mobile blackness. He could actually see it moving along through the streets, morphing around shrubs, mailboxes, fences and lampposts like millions of little black bugs, microscopic as a single entity, but visible as a mass of billions, growing in number and further eliminating the light. The dark thing moved along the ground like a wall from a distance, first devouring the church two blocks down the street, then the apartments across from the church. The black mass moved slow and forcefully. Saul watched for several hours as the darkness swept over the townhouses in his vicinity who's porch lights had been turned on by tenants observing the frightful darkness. They turned on lights out of fright, a meager attempt to drive the darkness off. Saul too fell for this little game. He turned on every light in his house, including the front and back porch lights before the formless cloud entombed his home. As the cloud descneded upon the townhouse, the black blob seemed to spread upon the windows. He stared from one particular downstairs window that looked upon the front entry and driveway, where two porch lights were aglow in the oncoming dark. As the darkness took the two front porch lights he had turned on he slunk closer to the window in awe and dark admiration of the things beauty. The darkness crept over and engulfed the two fluorescent bulbs just like it had the street lamps, leaving Saul to grasp at straws as to what was happening as he stood in the bright light of his house, getting a close view of the black mass at work. Up close it morphed like smoke around objects in a smooth whisper. Yet it moved with intent, purpose, not by the laws of physics that govern other smokes movements. Then, with the windows lit up, the darkness attacked. Not fast. The darkness was like a sloth, moving slowly, as if it were examining the objects it surrounded and engulfed. Maybe it too felt fear. But if it felt fear, did that mean it could also feel hate, or any other of the plethora of human emotions? It came to the window in which Saul stood and spread upon the cold glass, yes, he noticed, it was cold glass in the former hot August day. His breath stuck to the window like it was a chilly winter night as he noticed he had pressed his nose to the window in order to get as close of a view as possible without stepping outside. He wanted to run then, but the window turning from clear glass to an opaque blackness thrilled him in a horrible way. He stood there, his breath caught in his throat and watched the dark paint the window one microscopic bead at a time. It looked as if an invisible hand had begun to spray paint the glass with the strange black stuff. Was it stuff, or thing? he thought.He could still see out the window, but it was like looking out a dark screen door covered in water at night. The visibility was shallow at best, the outdoor world a blur. He wondered what would have happened had he not had air conditioning on and had instead left the windows open. Would it seep in through the openings and engulf me like it did the light? He didn't want to think about it, but he had no choice. He had to think about the black blob that was taking over, or else he would only fear it without proxy and be paralyzed. Is it dangerous, is it alive, is it aware? This last part bothered him most of all. A blackness, a cloud or a mob of insects, or whatever the hell this thing was, being aware. It made no sense, much like the whole event.Once Saul's awe had expired, he stepped back from the window and quickly turned off the lights around him, running through the house and extinguishing every bulb that was shedding light. Immediately the blackness subsided from the windows, leaving like it had came, leaving the outside world a little more visible as he turned off the final light in the front upstairs bedroom that overlooked the front drive and several of the other townhouses across the street. That's when he saw the door across the street, just visible through the gloom, open and one of his questions was answered, at least he thought. It was Lance, the college student who roomed with two others in the townhouse who opened the door. As he slowly walked out light flooded from inside the house. The darkness took the light and entered the house. Saul could only see Lance's silhouette in the strange darkness, the darkness that now moved fast, like it was intent on performing some purpose. Lance walked into the middle of his driveway and stopped. Nothing seemed to happen to him, he just stood there, his head turning as he looked up and down the street. Saul was sure then that the darkness was not dangerous and a breath of fear left his chest. He continues to watch Lance out the window. It isn't dangerous...Saul hated being wrong. A loud screech vibrated through the dark and Saul saw Lance being grasped by...something. It to was a dark mass, only darker than the mass of darkness that it now seemed to come from. It appeared to come out of the dark cloud, stretching the mass like plastic wrap being pushed by a fist. The thing that took Lance was darker because of its density, if that was even possible, and with more structure. The thing killing Lance looked solid, unlike the pixelated mass that had taken the light. The dark beast had a human quality; two legs, two arms, head, Saul could see this. Yet they were inhuman as well, morphed in ways Saul could only vaguely grasp in his now racing and fearful mind. He could also see the wings raising off its back and the largeness of its body. Not tall, but large, stout, like a gorilla but even thicker. It grabbed Lance around the neck, a pure black beast silhouetted against more black. Lance had no time to scream as his head was twisted and he was carried off into the darkness. The only sound Saul heard then was the slamming of the door at Lance's house. His roommates had watched the whole thing from the now dark doorway.
Saul shuddered and now noticed the sweat dripping off his face, even though the air had turned cold and desperate. Retreating further into his house he went to the closet in the back bedroom, the master bedroom where he spent his nights. The closet was a walk in with plenty of space. Shutting the door and closing himself in complete darkness,even darker than the outside world, he lay his head against the wall and wiped the sweat from his brow, his breathing a rapid succession in rhythm with his trembling heart. Fear had taken all he had. He felt exhausted and closed his eyes wishing to sleep but his mind would give him no peace. Anxiety was not the word. Panic had come over him.
What the hell was that?
“Damn,” he said before he realized he had spoken aloud. He reached into his pants pocket with trembling hand and took out his cell phone. Open it and light would show, but in the closet he was not visible. Does that matter? I don't know the first fucking thing about whatever that is out their?
Dots, round masses of visible blobs had begun to enter his vision from the oncoming panic. Shit! He risked it and opened the phone, the screen seeming overly bright in the closet. No service. He knew without a doubt it was the cloud, the darkness, the Sickness. Yes, that is what it is, the sickness.
Saul snapped the phone closed and shoved it back into his pocket. Grabbing some shirts off of coat hangers he made a small pillow and lay his body down, his head now throbbing with every beat of his pounding heart. He needed water, but not yet. The sickness is still among the village. He realized what a strange thought that was. The village. What village, it was a god damned neighborhood built for college students, young families, and single mothers on a fixed income. Down the street it was HUD housing for the ones who could not afford even these townhouses and needed government help in order to live in those quaint apartments with old carpets and leaking pipes. A village? Hell, people hardly even talked, each person to preoccupied with themselves to bother making an acquaintance with a neighbor or two...
His breathing was harsh, he was hyperventilating, the panic attacks fist now seizing him in its tight grip, closing off his chest and clouding his mind.
Wednesday, July 09, 2008
A Woman's Scorn (My First Mystery Story)
By Aaron Timm
Madeline placed the last wine glass into the dishwasher and dried her hands.
“You going to your mother’s tonight?” Charles asked.
“Yes, like I told you earlier, I’ll be gone tonight and tomorrow night.” Without a word he walked out of the house and left for work.
Madeline threw the towel she was drying her dried hands with against the wall, watching it slide lifelessly onto the counter. Walking upstairs to pack her bags she remembered the wedding ring, worn out with a chip in the diamond that sat on the window sill above the sink. Shoving it into her pocket she sighed and blew her hair out of her face.
Heading up the stairs she thought about the private investigator she had hired. Said he would “catch that bastard red handed.” She hoped so. Charles had cheated on her twice, at least that she knew of. Once with Maggie, the dirty little tramp. Oh, and don’t forget his play thing right after they were married. Samantha, or maybe Savannah or Sarah.
Unfortunately, Madeline never had enough proof to ruin Charles financially, as she hoped to do soon. Her options before were to file for divorce and face the harsh reality that she would receive nothing; no money, no car, no house, as the pre-nup entitled, or stay with him.
Opening her suitcase, she packed her clothes; comfy shoes to lounge around in, a nice dinner dress, the black silk robe that showed just enough leg and cleavage but was still sensible and damn comfortable. Finally, she put in her toiletries, including her favorite Christian Dior perfume. The doorbell rang as she carried the suitcase downstairs.
“Come in Mr. Stark. Thank you for coming on such short notice,” Madeline said as she let in the Charles Stark and a young man.
“No problem Mrs. Cahill,” said Mr. Stark, the owner and operator of Stark’s Private Investigators. “Just hoping we can help you with the problem we discussed the other day. This here is Durant, one of my top guys. Specializes in running tails, surveillance, knows how to run any hidden camera system.” “Morning Mrs. Cahill.”
“Please, call me Madeline. It’s a pleasure Durant. Come sit down gentlemen. Would you like coffee?” “No thanks. Let’s just get started. On the phone you said your husband, Charles Cahill Jr., has cheated on you before. But, because you had no, or should I say weak evidence, you never pursued a divorce. And now, you are sure he will have some one over tonight and want to catch him. Is this correct?” Mr. Stark asked.
“Yes. But I have other reasons. He has hit me, emotionally abused me. Three weeks ago he locked me out of the house all night because I was late from a dinner with friends. He can’t help but to have control, that’s why I signed that God damn pre-nup. He said it was for both of us, but you know.”
“Well, when we are finished with him you will have everything you need for a fast divorce trial,” Durant said, a smile on his face.
“It will cost ten thousand, and that is if we catch him or not. And don’t worry, if he is cheating, we will find out,” Stark added.
“Sounds reasonable. I have some money tucked away that Charles has no idea about.”She liked the confidence in Stark. Strong ethics, healthy dose of brain and brawn. Perfect for her needs. And Durant, she could hardly keep her eyes off of. Young, strong, the complete opposite of Charles.
“With your written permission we would like to set up hidden cameras in the house. Mainly the bedroom, if you know what I’m getting at,” Mr. Stark said.
“Of course. I know he has had sex with another woman in there before. Found her panties in his secret hiding spot.”
The same hiding spot where she has found lubricants, pornography, phone numbers with no names, all locked away in the second drawer of his giant tool chest, under the hammer and multiple chisels he has never used. She has had a spare key since the second Christmas they were together when she gave him the tool chest.
“I will also be following him and be doing strict video surveillance,” Durant said staring from Madeline’s face to her naked ring finger.
###
The sun slipped away as Charles walks into the Riverfront Jazz Club, his favorite hangout. With Madeline gone he’s free to do what he wants, and he wants to drink, smoke, and hopefully find some woman to bring home.
Charles sees her coming his way and shoots back the last bit of martini. Dry, smooth, worth the ten bucks, minus tip. As she approaches he bites the remaining olive in half as he looks into her eyes. She smiles and slows as he chews the olive and swallows.
“Buy you a drink beautiful,” he says, holding his martini glass up, his wedding band glimmering in the club’s lights.
“Please do. Your choice honey, see what kind of taste you have.”
Her smile was amazing, that mix of playfulness and lust that drove Charles crazy. Not to mention the body- firm with plump breast and showing it off, just the way he liked it.
“Two Crown Cherry’s please,” he says to the bartender.
“Crown Cherry, never tried it.”
“Very good, Crown Royal, cherry vodka, cherry brandy, and Cherry Coke on crushed ice. Hope you like cherries,” he says, making sure to stare at the bar tender’s cleavage as he speaks.
“Mmm, sounds tasty,” she says, her breath warm on his ear, her perfume now tantalizing his nostrils.
###
Stark and Durant had shown Madeline the footage of Charles, decked out in his best suit, going into the bar and coming out several hours later with the woman who he was now fucking her husband in her bed. The first half-hour of video was basic; more drinking, foreplay, getting to know each others bodies. Now, Charles was in that aggressive state that Madeline knew all to well.
Obviously, Mr. Stark was surprised by the tenacity, the roughness of Charles’ actions as he pulled hair, threw the girl around on the bed, even the soft choking action that wouldn’t hurt the girl, but would show that Charles was in control.
“He always this demanding?” Stark asked.
“Yes, when he drinks.”
“Has it ever been any worse? I mean, does it get to the point of abuse, sexual assault?” Stark’s eyes were on his hands which gripped each other on the table.
“No, not with me.”
Seeing that Stark and Madeline had both stopped watching the footage, Durant stopped it and closed the laptop.
“Okay,” Stark said,” you mentioned he has cheated before. What became of the affairs?”
“First one just ended. She stopped calling, he stopped going out at night for a while. I think they just ended it on their own terms, but I’m not sure.”
“And the second affair, when was that?”
“About five years ago. Maggie was her name. She was found dead,” she said.
“Charles involved?”
“No. Two crack heads had beaten her behind an old building down by the river, bashed her head in. They figure she was trying to buy drugs. Found heroine in her system.”
“Do you think Charles could have had anything to do with it?”
“No, but that doesn’t mean he couldn’t kill, when he’s drinking or something.”
Stark closed his notebook and finally looked at Madeline.
“We have enough evidence to get you anything you want in a divorce proceeding. But, before we begin the paperwork and let Charles in on what’s happening, you need to find a safe place to stay, with family or friends maybe. And, we need to get a restraining order. I think your lawyer would agree.”
“Really?” Madeline asked.
“Definitely. I know these types. They are nice when they have control. And by nice I mean not violent. But, if control is lost, so is their temper, and that is when something bad might happen.”
Madeline stared at Durant, agreement lingering between their glare.
“I think we should wait a couple of days,” Durant said.
“ Why?” Stark asked.
“Our wire tap recorded a conversation between Charles and Laurie, the girl he’s seeing. She called him, says they need to talk, in person. Sounded nervous. And, he was pissed, about her forgetting the bra when she left. Told her she was stupid, gonna get him busted and that he would bring it to her.”
“The bra is still in his tool chest. I saw it last night when I got home and checked the box, like I always do,” she said.
“They are gonna meet tomorrow at her house, after he gets off work,” Durant continued. “If we can get video of him showing up at her pad your lawyer could substantiate an affair, not just a one night stand. Much more powerful in court. He can’t claim he was drunk and just ‘made a mistake.’ I think it would make the whole situation much easier and much faster.”
Durant leaned back in the old wooden chair, his face a granite of confidence.
“Interesting,” Stark said and looked to Madeline for a decision.
“I think it’s a great idea,” Madeline said, stifling a smile.
The two men left, Stark going straight to Laurie’s for surveillance.
Three hours had passed as Stark waited outside Laurie’s house with no action other then her next door neighbors, a young looking couple and little boy, coming home around 5:30, an hour ago. Starks cell phone vibrated against his leg. Reaching into his pockets and retrieving the phone, he looked at the caller ID.
“Hello.”
“Mr. Stark, hi, it’s Madeline. Charles just left the house.”
“I thought he was going straight from work to her house?”
“Me too, but he had to come get something. I caught him taking the bra out of the tool chest drawer, and the hammer. Put them both in his briefcase.”
“The hammer. Why the hammer?”
“Don’t know.”
“Okay, thanks.”
Half an hour later Stark watched as Charles’ car slowly cruised by and went around the corner a block down the street. Several minutes later Charles turned the corner on foot, briefcase in hand. Walking to the duplex, Charles knocked and looked around the neighborhood, his eyes and head downcast. Laurie opened the door and Charles quickly pushed in.
On the digital video camera’s screen Stark watched the quick entry and zoomed out on the duplex as the neighbor couple came out with beer in hands and lit up a cigarette.
###
Charles stares at Laurie, her curvy body in sweatpants and a ratty Mickey Mouse Club t-shirt.
“Sorry to make you come over here, but we need to talk,” she says, not meeting his intense stare.
“Yeah, we do. What the hell were you doing leaving your bra at my house. You trying to get me in trouble with my wife!”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I have to tell your wife about us. Sorry, but I feel so guilty. I’ve done a lot of bad stuff, but I am trying to clean it up.” “Clean it up! What the fuck does that mean, you can ‘clean it up’ when I’m gone, out of the picture. You knew I was married when you hooked up with me, so don’t go saying you have to tell my wife,” Charles steps towards the girl, his hand shooting into the briefcase.
“Okay, wait. I was drunk the other night,” she says, falling onto the couch.
“So was I, so what the hell’s your point? You go around fucking guys and then rattin’ on ‘em. You’re a god damn whore and you know it. So don’t, I repeat, don’t think you can go around screwing with me!”
Charles pulls the bra from his briefcase and throws it at the girl.
“You knew damn it! Knew I had a wife, I made it clear to you, on purpose!” Charles slams his hand against the wall, making his point clear.
“I won’t tell,” she says. “Promise, I won’t.”
He doesn’t believe her. She’ll tell, as soon as he leaves, she’ll tell the world.
###
Stark impatiently waited and watched for twenty minutes, not hearing the yells from inside the house. As the video camera rolled, Stark watched as Charles half ran, half walked down the street. Sweat shone off his forehead and down to his quivering lips.
###
The police arriving on the scene had found the girl, bludgeoned in the kitchen, her skull collapsed with the hammer that lay on the linoleum floor. Fingerprint analysis had identified one set of prints, as well as footprints on the front walk, all matching Charles. As well, the neighbor’s testimony about the yelling they heard before they called the police, and Starks video, made the charges against Charles no surprise-murder in the first degree. He even had the gall to fight the charges, saying he left the girl alive, sitting on the couch. Said he did not know she was a prostitute, he had never cheated before, no, that was not his hammer, and he left the house nervous because the girl was going to tell his wife. That would make anyone nervous!
The jury believed none of it, and his wife had to sit on the stand and through tears tell about seeing the video of him, realizing he had cheated. She never mentioned the earlier infidelities; just keep the case simple.
Two months after the murder, Charles was convicted and sentenced to life in jail. As the bailiffs took him away, his hands cuffed behind his back, he looked over at Madeline, sitting in the back of the court room.
“Love you,” she silently mouthed, a quick smile dancing across her lips between forced tears.
###
Madeline drops the chipped wedding ring in among the chisels and locks the tool chest, a final ado to the life she is leaving behind. She hears the doorbell ring and excitement wells up at the arrival of her guest.
“Evening love,” Durant says, one red rose in his hand.
Madeline answers by pulling him through the door by his collar and kissing him hard. She knows he must be worn down after attending Laurie’s funeral.
“You want a drink?” Madeline asks, already pouring two glasses of wine.
“Please. That funeral was terrible. But I still don’t understand why you wanted me to go.”
“Simple. I wanted to know how many people showed up. My guess is no one went to that hookers service.”
“Well, Stark was there,” Durant answers, taking a gulp of wine.
“Really? Why.”
“Same reason as I told him I was there for. To pay my respects. But don’t worry, he doesn’t know she was a hooker, is still convinced Charles killed her.”
Madeline comes close to Charles and breaths into his neck. “You ever gone to your own victims funeral?” she asks, the wine taking visible effect of her body.
“No, and it was not something I enjoyed.”
“The funeral, or slamming Charles’ hammer into her head?”
“I did enjoy the putting that asshole in prison. And now, its you and me.”
“That reminds me. How did you get in and out of Lauries house without Charles or the cops knowing?”
“Laurie let me in the back door. Told her I needed to be hiding there when Charles came to make sure he didn’t hurt her. It’s strange, she thought I was just trying to get evidence for the divorce, just like Stark thought. She never figured I would be the dangerous one,” Durant says. “As far as the cops, I didn’t have time to leave since the neighbors called the cops. Charles was louder than I expected. So I went under the house. With the hammer and Stark right there to testify they hardly ran a crime scene.”
Durant stops talking and sits on the couch, a smile across his face. Madeline knows what he will say next. They have this conversation a lot, keeps everything exciting.
“How did you get rid of Maggie, the one who he got talked into the abortion?” Charles says, already knowing the answer.
“Darling, your not the only one who is good with a hammer.”
Madeline placed the last wine glass into the dishwasher and dried her hands.
“You going to your mother’s tonight?” Charles asked.
“Yes, like I told you earlier, I’ll be gone tonight and tomorrow night.” Without a word he walked out of the house and left for work.
Madeline threw the towel she was drying her dried hands with against the wall, watching it slide lifelessly onto the counter. Walking upstairs to pack her bags she remembered the wedding ring, worn out with a chip in the diamond that sat on the window sill above the sink. Shoving it into her pocket she sighed and blew her hair out of her face.
Heading up the stairs she thought about the private investigator she had hired. Said he would “catch that bastard red handed.” She hoped so. Charles had cheated on her twice, at least that she knew of. Once with Maggie, the dirty little tramp. Oh, and don’t forget his play thing right after they were married. Samantha, or maybe Savannah or Sarah.
Unfortunately, Madeline never had enough proof to ruin Charles financially, as she hoped to do soon. Her options before were to file for divorce and face the harsh reality that she would receive nothing; no money, no car, no house, as the pre-nup entitled, or stay with him.
Opening her suitcase, she packed her clothes; comfy shoes to lounge around in, a nice dinner dress, the black silk robe that showed just enough leg and cleavage but was still sensible and damn comfortable. Finally, she put in her toiletries, including her favorite Christian Dior perfume. The doorbell rang as she carried the suitcase downstairs.
“Come in Mr. Stark. Thank you for coming on such short notice,” Madeline said as she let in the Charles Stark and a young man.
“No problem Mrs. Cahill,” said Mr. Stark, the owner and operator of Stark’s Private Investigators. “Just hoping we can help you with the problem we discussed the other day. This here is Durant, one of my top guys. Specializes in running tails, surveillance, knows how to run any hidden camera system.” “Morning Mrs. Cahill.”
“Please, call me Madeline. It’s a pleasure Durant. Come sit down gentlemen. Would you like coffee?” “No thanks. Let’s just get started. On the phone you said your husband, Charles Cahill Jr., has cheated on you before. But, because you had no, or should I say weak evidence, you never pursued a divorce. And now, you are sure he will have some one over tonight and want to catch him. Is this correct?” Mr. Stark asked.
“Yes. But I have other reasons. He has hit me, emotionally abused me. Three weeks ago he locked me out of the house all night because I was late from a dinner with friends. He can’t help but to have control, that’s why I signed that God damn pre-nup. He said it was for both of us, but you know.”
“Well, when we are finished with him you will have everything you need for a fast divorce trial,” Durant said, a smile on his face.
“It will cost ten thousand, and that is if we catch him or not. And don’t worry, if he is cheating, we will find out,” Stark added.
“Sounds reasonable. I have some money tucked away that Charles has no idea about.”She liked the confidence in Stark. Strong ethics, healthy dose of brain and brawn. Perfect for her needs. And Durant, she could hardly keep her eyes off of. Young, strong, the complete opposite of Charles.
“With your written permission we would like to set up hidden cameras in the house. Mainly the bedroom, if you know what I’m getting at,” Mr. Stark said.
“Of course. I know he has had sex with another woman in there before. Found her panties in his secret hiding spot.”
The same hiding spot where she has found lubricants, pornography, phone numbers with no names, all locked away in the second drawer of his giant tool chest, under the hammer and multiple chisels he has never used. She has had a spare key since the second Christmas they were together when she gave him the tool chest.
“I will also be following him and be doing strict video surveillance,” Durant said staring from Madeline’s face to her naked ring finger.
###
The sun slipped away as Charles walks into the Riverfront Jazz Club, his favorite hangout. With Madeline gone he’s free to do what he wants, and he wants to drink, smoke, and hopefully find some woman to bring home.
Charles sees her coming his way and shoots back the last bit of martini. Dry, smooth, worth the ten bucks, minus tip. As she approaches he bites the remaining olive in half as he looks into her eyes. She smiles and slows as he chews the olive and swallows.
“Buy you a drink beautiful,” he says, holding his martini glass up, his wedding band glimmering in the club’s lights.
“Please do. Your choice honey, see what kind of taste you have.”
Her smile was amazing, that mix of playfulness and lust that drove Charles crazy. Not to mention the body- firm with plump breast and showing it off, just the way he liked it.
“Two Crown Cherry’s please,” he says to the bartender.
“Crown Cherry, never tried it.”
“Very good, Crown Royal, cherry vodka, cherry brandy, and Cherry Coke on crushed ice. Hope you like cherries,” he says, making sure to stare at the bar tender’s cleavage as he speaks.
“Mmm, sounds tasty,” she says, her breath warm on his ear, her perfume now tantalizing his nostrils.
###
Stark and Durant had shown Madeline the footage of Charles, decked out in his best suit, going into the bar and coming out several hours later with the woman who he was now fucking her husband in her bed. The first half-hour of video was basic; more drinking, foreplay, getting to know each others bodies. Now, Charles was in that aggressive state that Madeline knew all to well.
Obviously, Mr. Stark was surprised by the tenacity, the roughness of Charles’ actions as he pulled hair, threw the girl around on the bed, even the soft choking action that wouldn’t hurt the girl, but would show that Charles was in control.
“He always this demanding?” Stark asked.
“Yes, when he drinks.”
“Has it ever been any worse? I mean, does it get to the point of abuse, sexual assault?” Stark’s eyes were on his hands which gripped each other on the table.
“No, not with me.”
Seeing that Stark and Madeline had both stopped watching the footage, Durant stopped it and closed the laptop.
“Okay,” Stark said,” you mentioned he has cheated before. What became of the affairs?”
“First one just ended. She stopped calling, he stopped going out at night for a while. I think they just ended it on their own terms, but I’m not sure.”
“And the second affair, when was that?”
“About five years ago. Maggie was her name. She was found dead,” she said.
“Charles involved?”
“No. Two crack heads had beaten her behind an old building down by the river, bashed her head in. They figure she was trying to buy drugs. Found heroine in her system.”
“Do you think Charles could have had anything to do with it?”
“No, but that doesn’t mean he couldn’t kill, when he’s drinking or something.”
Stark closed his notebook and finally looked at Madeline.
“We have enough evidence to get you anything you want in a divorce proceeding. But, before we begin the paperwork and let Charles in on what’s happening, you need to find a safe place to stay, with family or friends maybe. And, we need to get a restraining order. I think your lawyer would agree.”
“Really?” Madeline asked.
“Definitely. I know these types. They are nice when they have control. And by nice I mean not violent. But, if control is lost, so is their temper, and that is when something bad might happen.”
Madeline stared at Durant, agreement lingering between their glare.
“I think we should wait a couple of days,” Durant said.
“ Why?” Stark asked.
“Our wire tap recorded a conversation between Charles and Laurie, the girl he’s seeing. She called him, says they need to talk, in person. Sounded nervous. And, he was pissed, about her forgetting the bra when she left. Told her she was stupid, gonna get him busted and that he would bring it to her.”
“The bra is still in his tool chest. I saw it last night when I got home and checked the box, like I always do,” she said.
“They are gonna meet tomorrow at her house, after he gets off work,” Durant continued. “If we can get video of him showing up at her pad your lawyer could substantiate an affair, not just a one night stand. Much more powerful in court. He can’t claim he was drunk and just ‘made a mistake.’ I think it would make the whole situation much easier and much faster.”
Durant leaned back in the old wooden chair, his face a granite of confidence.
“Interesting,” Stark said and looked to Madeline for a decision.
“I think it’s a great idea,” Madeline said, stifling a smile.
The two men left, Stark going straight to Laurie’s for surveillance.
Three hours had passed as Stark waited outside Laurie’s house with no action other then her next door neighbors, a young looking couple and little boy, coming home around 5:30, an hour ago. Starks cell phone vibrated against his leg. Reaching into his pockets and retrieving the phone, he looked at the caller ID.
“Hello.”
“Mr. Stark, hi, it’s Madeline. Charles just left the house.”
“I thought he was going straight from work to her house?”
“Me too, but he had to come get something. I caught him taking the bra out of the tool chest drawer, and the hammer. Put them both in his briefcase.”
“The hammer. Why the hammer?”
“Don’t know.”
“Okay, thanks.”
Half an hour later Stark watched as Charles’ car slowly cruised by and went around the corner a block down the street. Several minutes later Charles turned the corner on foot, briefcase in hand. Walking to the duplex, Charles knocked and looked around the neighborhood, his eyes and head downcast. Laurie opened the door and Charles quickly pushed in.
On the digital video camera’s screen Stark watched the quick entry and zoomed out on the duplex as the neighbor couple came out with beer in hands and lit up a cigarette.
###
Charles stares at Laurie, her curvy body in sweatpants and a ratty Mickey Mouse Club t-shirt.
“Sorry to make you come over here, but we need to talk,” she says, not meeting his intense stare.
“Yeah, we do. What the hell were you doing leaving your bra at my house. You trying to get me in trouble with my wife!”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I have to tell your wife about us. Sorry, but I feel so guilty. I’ve done a lot of bad stuff, but I am trying to clean it up.” “Clean it up! What the fuck does that mean, you can ‘clean it up’ when I’m gone, out of the picture. You knew I was married when you hooked up with me, so don’t go saying you have to tell my wife,” Charles steps towards the girl, his hand shooting into the briefcase.
“Okay, wait. I was drunk the other night,” she says, falling onto the couch.
“So was I, so what the hell’s your point? You go around fucking guys and then rattin’ on ‘em. You’re a god damn whore and you know it. So don’t, I repeat, don’t think you can go around screwing with me!”
Charles pulls the bra from his briefcase and throws it at the girl.
“You knew damn it! Knew I had a wife, I made it clear to you, on purpose!” Charles slams his hand against the wall, making his point clear.
“I won’t tell,” she says. “Promise, I won’t.”
He doesn’t believe her. She’ll tell, as soon as he leaves, she’ll tell the world.
###
Stark impatiently waited and watched for twenty minutes, not hearing the yells from inside the house. As the video camera rolled, Stark watched as Charles half ran, half walked down the street. Sweat shone off his forehead and down to his quivering lips.
###
The police arriving on the scene had found the girl, bludgeoned in the kitchen, her skull collapsed with the hammer that lay on the linoleum floor. Fingerprint analysis had identified one set of prints, as well as footprints on the front walk, all matching Charles. As well, the neighbor’s testimony about the yelling they heard before they called the police, and Starks video, made the charges against Charles no surprise-murder in the first degree. He even had the gall to fight the charges, saying he left the girl alive, sitting on the couch. Said he did not know she was a prostitute, he had never cheated before, no, that was not his hammer, and he left the house nervous because the girl was going to tell his wife. That would make anyone nervous!
The jury believed none of it, and his wife had to sit on the stand and through tears tell about seeing the video of him, realizing he had cheated. She never mentioned the earlier infidelities; just keep the case simple.
Two months after the murder, Charles was convicted and sentenced to life in jail. As the bailiffs took him away, his hands cuffed behind his back, he looked over at Madeline, sitting in the back of the court room.
“Love you,” she silently mouthed, a quick smile dancing across her lips between forced tears.
###
Madeline drops the chipped wedding ring in among the chisels and locks the tool chest, a final ado to the life she is leaving behind. She hears the doorbell ring and excitement wells up at the arrival of her guest.
“Evening love,” Durant says, one red rose in his hand.
Madeline answers by pulling him through the door by his collar and kissing him hard. She knows he must be worn down after attending Laurie’s funeral.
“You want a drink?” Madeline asks, already pouring two glasses of wine.
“Please. That funeral was terrible. But I still don’t understand why you wanted me to go.”
“Simple. I wanted to know how many people showed up. My guess is no one went to that hookers service.”
“Well, Stark was there,” Durant answers, taking a gulp of wine.
“Really? Why.”
“Same reason as I told him I was there for. To pay my respects. But don’t worry, he doesn’t know she was a hooker, is still convinced Charles killed her.”
Madeline comes close to Charles and breaths into his neck. “You ever gone to your own victims funeral?” she asks, the wine taking visible effect of her body.
“No, and it was not something I enjoyed.”
“The funeral, or slamming Charles’ hammer into her head?”
“I did enjoy the putting that asshole in prison. And now, its you and me.”
“That reminds me. How did you get in and out of Lauries house without Charles or the cops knowing?”
“Laurie let me in the back door. Told her I needed to be hiding there when Charles came to make sure he didn’t hurt her. It’s strange, she thought I was just trying to get evidence for the divorce, just like Stark thought. She never figured I would be the dangerous one,” Durant says. “As far as the cops, I didn’t have time to leave since the neighbors called the cops. Charles was louder than I expected. So I went under the house. With the hammer and Stark right there to testify they hardly ran a crime scene.”
Durant stops talking and sits on the couch, a smile across his face. Madeline knows what he will say next. They have this conversation a lot, keeps everything exciting.
“How did you get rid of Maggie, the one who he got talked into the abortion?” Charles says, already knowing the answer.
“Darling, your not the only one who is good with a hammer.”
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