While a decades-old slasher movie played on the wall-mounted TV, Emory kicked back on the bed in the guest room, thumbing through case photos on his phone. He had muted the TV volume, allowing the intensifying claps of thunder from the approaching storm to rewrite the movie’s score. The overhead light flickered. Emory, barefoot and wearing gray pajama bottoms and a V-neck T-shirt, turned his eyes to the ceiling and waited in vain for the light to settle. The TV picture froze on a glistening hook held high above a soon-to-be victim.
“What’s going on?”
He rose from the bed and stepped closer to the TV, fixing his eyes on the frozen picture. He reached up and touched the hook in the killer’s hand. The hook came down!
Emory jumped back, tripping over his feet and landing on the floor before he realized the movie had started playing again.
Following a few gasps of air, he climbed to his feet and backed out of the room. “I wonder what Virginia’s up to.”
He headed down the hall and looked into Virginia’s makeshift bedroom, Blair Geister’s office. The room was empty.
“Maybe she’s in the kitchen.” He descended the back stairs to the main level. The kitchen light was off and the hallway unlit. He heard voices coming from the other end of the house, and he proceeded toward them.
A lightning strike outside the kitchen window flashed across his pale cheeks. He noticed the chandelier flickering in the dining room. Why is that light even on?
The voices grew louder as he approached the locutorium. He walked in on a conversation between Virginia and Eden, of all people. They were seated on the sofa nearest the fireplace, each holding a glass of red wine and sporting smiles.
Eden told Virginia, “He said his experiment proved conclusively that his roommate’s flatulence was chemically identical to swamp gas.”
“Eww.” Virginia scrunched her face as if she could smell it. “Did you fail him?”
“I had to. Not because of the subject but because his data-gathering technique stank.”
While Virginia laughed, Emory took the opportunity to make his presence known. “What’s going on?”
Virginia replied with a slight slur, “Eden was just telling me about her work. She’s a microbiology professor at UT Chattanooga. Ooh, and she’s researching bacteria that can eat coal slurry.”
“What’s coal slurry?”
Eden replied, “Coal is washed after mining to remove impurities, creating a toxic mixture called coal slurry.”
“And how do they dispose of that?”
“Manmade ponds, usually. The problem is sometimes they leak into the ground water, rivers, lakes. If my research pans out, we can eliminate many of the contaminants, except for the heavy metals of course, before they become a problem.”
“That sounds fascinating,” Emory said in all earnestness. “Is that the same research you submitted for an EARTH grant?
The smile left Eden’s face. “It is.”
Emory sensed the shifting tone, but he pushed forward now that the subject had been broached. “Why was it turned down?”
“Obviously, my cousin lacked faith in me.” Eden stood and turned to Virginia, “Nice chatting with you, but I’m going to bed.” She walked past Emory on her way out, muttering, “I miss the looker.”
Virginia scoffed. “Way to go. She was just warming up to me.”
“Sorry. What did she mean by that?”
The darkness beyond the locutorium’s French doors retreated for several seconds as lightning struck nearby and lingered.
Virginia gasped. “Whoa! That was close.”
Emory sat on the gold sofa. “I was surprised to see you chummy with her.”
Virginia held up her glass. “Wine and girl talk. No better way to get someone to open up. Want a taste? It’s Malbec.”
“Sure.” Emory took a sip and handed it back to her. “That’s nice. What do you know?”
“We were just getting started, but I found out that she had her lawyer file an injunction today to stop the execution of the will. She’s contesting it.”
“I guess she wasn’t bluffing.”
“I also learned a little more about her lover.”
Emory’s eyes widened. “She admitted she’s seeing the gardener?”
“No, but I tried. I brought him up, saying how beautiful the yard is, and then she told me he used to tend the grounds at UT Chattanooga, and she recommended him to her cousin.”
“Why would she want her lover to leave a job where she works to come here – where, according to Juniper, she rarely visited?”
“I thought of that too, but I couldn’t ask her about it. She doesn’t know we know he’s tending her garden.”
“I’d love to look inside that master bedroom.”
Virginia frowned at him. “Strange segue.”
“I don’t mean to watch them. I know in my gut that Blair Geister’s ear bleed means something, and the evidence we need could be in the room where she died.”
“Maybe I could distract her tomorrow while you look.”
“That would be perfect. We’re running out of time. I also really want to find that Pangram Box.” He checked his phone. “Eighty-two hours until the deadline.”
Thunder rattled the panes in the French doors.
“I’ve been thinking about that too, and I have an idea.”
Emory’s ears perked up. “What is it?”
“The desk in Blair’s office is locked. Gotta be a reason. Maybe it’s in there.”
“Okay. Maybe the key to her desk is in the office somewhere. Let’s go search for it.”
The two raced up the front stairs to the office on the upper level. After searching for half an hour, Virginia suggested another option. “I should just pick the lock.”
“We can’t break it open. Remember the will stipulates nothing in the house can be damaged.”
“Trust me. I won’t leave a trace.”
Emory inspected the desk. “Are you sure you can do this?”
Virginia searched her purse, which she had left on the sofa, her makeshift bed. “I was taught by an expert.”
“Jeff?”
“You guessed it.” She pulled out an L-shaped strip of copper and a pick with a tulipwood handle and aluminum blade. “He actually made this for me.”
Emory glanced out the window when another lightning bolt illuminated the boathouse. He followed Virginia around the desk, where he saw brass key locks above each column of drawers, including the lone drawer in the middle. “Maybe we should wait for Jeff or at least until you’re one-hundred-percent sober.”
“Trust me.”
“Well, be careful. I don’t see scratches on any of the locks.”
Virginia took a deep breath and got to work. Emory soon realized he worried for naught. She spent less than twenty seconds clicking open each of the three locks, leaving not a scratch. “Done!” She placed her toolkit on the desk and smiled at her partner.
“Great job.”
The two PIs took sides and searched the drawers, working from the bottom up. Emory thumbed through folder after folder. “I’m finding nothing but work files on my side.”
“Same here.” Virginia jumped ahead to the middle drawer. “Here’s something that could be helpful.”
“What is it?”
Virginia pulled out a folded, tabloid-sized paper. “It’s a rendering.” She underlined the header at the top of the page with her finger. “Master bedroom.”
“Plans for the renovation of Blair Geister’s bedroom.”
“Look at all the detail. Her bed, the furniture, even where the paintings were to be hung.”
Emory took the rendering from her. “I could use this for comparison when I search her room tomorrow.”
“Of course, Eden’s been in that room for days. She could’ve moved everything around.”
“True, but it’s something.” Emory folded the rendering.
“I’ll lock the drawers back.”
“Sounds good.” Emory headed for the door but stopped short of leaving. “Hey, would you want to open another bottle of wine and help me search the house for the Pangram Box?”
Virginia grinned. “You had me at wine.”
“I’ll meet you in the cellar.” Emory left for the guest room, placing the rendering in his suitcase. Lightning drew his eyes to the window, and he noticed something outside. Twin lightning strikes lit up the woods to the west of the house all the way to the barrier fence. Emory thought he detected movement. Another strike confirmed it.
He ran from the room and down the front stairs.
As soon as he threw open the front door, the chilled rain pelted his face. I should’ve put something on. His bare feet sloshed over the flooding grass. By the time he reached the woods, his T-shirt and pajama bottoms were clinging to his body like a wetsuit.
Once in the trees, he lost any light coming from the house. Should’ve brought a flashlight. Emory felt his way through the darkness, bolting ahead whenever lightning showed him the way forward. He was almost at the fence when he heard grunting. Lightning struck, and he saw its source.
A man in a vinyl mask leaned against the historic cedar tree, resting his right hand atop the handle of a shovel. Emory wasn’t certain, but he seemed to be facing down and perhaps hadn’t spotted the PI.
Emory stepped into the clearing around the historic cedar. As he stepped over the low chain fence surrounding the tree, lightning struck again.
The masked man lifted his face toward Emory. He grabbed the shovel and darted into the woods.
“Mr. Drake! Wait!” Emory gave pursuit.
Between the flashes of lightning, Emory tried to follow the stomping of the man’s boots against the muddy ground, but the intensifying downpour and blasts of thunder drowned out the sound. A double strike provided a glimpse of the man escaping the woods and heading toward the property’s front gate. Emory no longer saw the shovel in his hand, but he soon discovered why when the toes of his right foot kicked the wooden handle.
Emory tumbled into the mud. His toes throbbing, he forced himself to his feet and continued the pursuit. By the time he reached the gate, the man was climbing into the cab of a small moving truck parked on the road. As he watched the truck drive away, Emory stopped running.
With a slight limp, he hiked the long driveway to the house. He patted the hood of his car as a tremendous bolt of lightning streaked overhead, followed by two more. Emory ducked and put his hands at his side. Probably not the best time to touch metal.
A horrifying shriek pierced through the thunderstorm.
Emory bolted through the open front door of the house and followed the screams upstairs. Through the unlit hallway, he saw light slicing out from underneath the closed door to the master bedroom. He twisted the knob and shoved the door open.
The wet hair on his arms jumped to attention as he tried to make sense of what he beheld. “Holy crap!”
Eden Geister knelt in the middle of the gold bed, screaming with her arms crossed at her chest. Streaks of electricity danced up and down the head and foot of the bed and snapped between the posts on both ends. Caught in the middle of the erratic lightshow, Eden cried to Emory, “Help me!”
“Oh my god!” Emory heard behind him, and he turned around to see Virginia in the doorway.
“We have to get her off of there!” Emory shouted over Eden’s screams and the sizzling electricity. He stepped toward the bed, and the hair on his neck joined that on his arms in standing. Streams of electricity wriggled between the gold posts at all four corners of the bed, blocking both sides and preventing Emory from reaching the terrified woman kneeled in the center of the mattress. Seconds later the current on the other side of the bed broke. Emory pointed. “Eden! Jump off that way!”
Eden scurried to the other side of the bed but stopped short of jumping to safety. She screamed again and backtracked.
Emory wondered why until he saw the reason. Standing on the other side of the bed was a hulking ghoul of a man. Frazzled black hair topped an anguished face – lacking a nose and left cheek and with a scraggly beard half-hiding the other cheek. Zyus Drake!
Zyus approached the bed and reached for Eden.
Eden screamed again and scooted closer to Emory, where a single bolt of electricity continued to stretch the length of the bed.
When the stream flickered away a few seconds later, Emory started to reach for her, but it sparked to life again inches from the top of his head. The hair on his head rose and reached for the electric stream, causing pops where the ends made contact. His skin tingled as the sensation permeated the thin layer of rainwater covering his body. He felt energy tentacles from the stream scratching paths in the air toward him.
The stream stopped again.
Emory reached for Eden, who jumped into his arms. The shaking woman grappled his shoulders and buried her face in his damp chest.
POP! The stream sparked to life once more before the electricity fizzled from the bed, leaving the room in darkness.
Virginia hit the light switch. “Is anyone hurt?”
Emory noticed Zyus was no longer in the room. “Where did he go?”
Eden lowered her legs to stand on her own. “You’re wet.”
He scoffed. “You’re welcome.”
The older woman looked at the bed and backed away. “What the hell was that?!”
He wasn’t sure if she were talking about the electric bed or Zyus Drake, but he didn’t respond to either. Instead, he walked over to where Zyus had stood a moment earlier.
Virginia placed a hand on Eden’s back. “Are you okay?”
“I think so, but I’m not sleeping in this room ever again.” Eden held her own shoulders as she scurried into the hallway.
Virginia joined Emory, whose eyes were on the floor. “What is it? And why are you wet?”
“I have a better question. Why wasn’t he?”
“What do you mean?”
Emory pointed to his own wet footprints on the bedroom floor. “I just encountered Zyus Drake in the woods, but look where he stood.”
“There’s nothing there.”
“Exactly. He couldn’t possibly have dried off and changed in time, and I walked directly here from the gate, where I last saw him driving away in a truck. I would’ve seen him if he came back.”
“You’re not making any sense.”
“Virginia, I saw someone in the woods with the same mask that Zyus wore to the will reading, but the guy who was just in this room had to be Zyus, right?”
“I guess his face could be described as disappearing.”
Emory asked, “So who was in the woods?”