Journalstone's 2010 Warped Words for Twisted Minds (2 page)

*  *  *

Malik had been hesitant about fogging the walls on such short notice until they offered to pay him an additional hundred if he could start immediately. Neither Vaughn nor Trish were ecstatic about what this was going to cost, but they didn’t want to continue staying in a house with a festering animal carcass (what Malik estimated it might be) only a wall’s distance between them.

Even though he seemed like a fairly decent guy Vaughn had asked Neil from work to stop by the house while they left Malik to his task. The couple spent most of the day running errands: garden supplies from Home Depot, an oil change at a center kind enough to be open on Sundays, and a trip to Target to replace their vacuum that had seen its last carpet. After having heard nothing by two o’clock that afternoon, Vaughn was just about to reach for his cell when Neil called.

“Did he call you yet?” his co-worker answered.

“Anyone ever tell you not to answer the phone with a question?”

“What’re you? My mom?” Neil shot back casually. “So, did your exterminator contact you?”

“No, Trish and I have been running errands all day and thought he must’ve spoken with you or something.”

“Hell, I never even got to see him – let alone talk with the guy,” Neil replied. “I’m outside your place right now, and his van is still parked at the curb. I rang your bell, banged on the door, and even called the number on the side of his vehicle to see if his bosses know where the hell he is.”

After seeing the look of concern on his face, Trish urged him to put Neil on speaker for them both to hear.

“Neil,” she spoke, “Can you peep through the kitchen window and tell us if you see anything? Maybe he was just in the bathroom or something.”

“Trish, I’ve been around for about two hours and he’s not here. I already checked the window back there after I tried the bell and knocked. So, unless he’s taking the mother of all dumps, no one’s in your house.”

After thanking Neil for his patience and sending him on his way, they began the drive back.

“He is so getting fired when we call Pied Piper,” Vaughn growled through gritted teeth. “There’s probably fumigation crap all over the house.”

“But, there’s too much of this that doesn’t add up,” Trish mused as rain began spattering the windshield. “Who just up and leaves both their equipment and van?”

“Folks have done weirder stuff for no reason. Maybe he got a really good look at just how much of a job he’d have ahead of him and took off. What kind of contractor moonlights at a pest control company, as much as they make? I thought something didn’t sound right with that.”

“What if he had an accident?” Trish turned to him. “A piece of timber could’ve knocked him in the head when he tore into the wall.”

“For all of the money we’re giving up to get this done, that dude better have a knot on his head the size of a grapefruit.”

*  *  *

Checking through the rear window of the van only revealed a copy of Penthouse resting atop several pieces of equipment. They cautiously ventured into the house, Vaughn grabbing an aluminum baseball bat from the foyer closet.

“Malik!” he called as they edged through the ground floor. The stillness in response only added to their unease. Grabbing her cell, Trish began dialing.

“Who’re you calling?” Vaughn frowned in confusion.

A moment later the chorus to Zapp & Roger’s “Computer Love” could faintly be heard from the basement.

“That’s his phone, I guess,” Trish shrugged as they went for the basement stairs.

“Nice ringtone.”

They found Malik’s cell at the base of the hole in the wall, which was now nearly six feet tall and about four feet wide. It reminded Vaughn of a large mythic beast opening its maw to yawn –or snarl. He couldn’t imagine venturing into such a space even with a hundred tungsten lamps. Malik had covered everything in sheets of thick clear plastic, his cutting tools resting atop the dryer. The fumigation canisters lay unopened beside a circular saw.

The smell hit them right about then, their noses wrinkling in disgust. It wasn’t the odor of decomposing animal flesh, for which they were grateful. But, rather, it just smelled pungent, like overly fermented vegetables that you wouldn’t dare eat no matter how attractive the plate appeared. In addition to its overwhelming ripeness, the odor made them strangely lightheaded.

“Do I even wanna know what that is?” Trish spoke through her sweater.

*  *  *

After getting Pied Piper’s answering services several times, Vaughn and Trish reluctantly accepted that they’d have to wait until the following morning to have Malik’s departure explained. His wife had refused to return to the basement until Vaughn had carefully tacked up one of the plastic sheets over the gaping hole, which failed to make it less menacing.

When their doorbell rang around 7 p.m., Trish hurried to open it, expecting a heavily-bandaged and crutches-addled Malik with a story about dragging himself to the nearest emergency room. Opening the door, she was surprised to discover their gnome-loving neighbor, Mrs. Bondelli, eyeing her with concern.

“Uh- hi, Mrs. Bondelli.”

“Good evening, Trish,” the elderly woman nodded. “I really hate to bother you when you’re probably about to start on dinner.”

“Oh no, ma’am,” Trish shook her head and stepped aside. “C’mon in.”

Vaughn, who’d been looking through the yellow pages for law firms, got to his feet as they entered the living-room. “How’re you and the gnomes doing?”

Trish, standing behind their neighbor, shot him a seething look.

“Just lovely, dear,” she smiled. “I was coming back from the senior center and noticed that pest control truck still sitting outside. I didn’t know they worked this late.”

“We just wanted to do some last minute maintenance,” Vaughn lied casually. “You never can be too careful. The van’s having electrical problems, so it might be the battery.”

“Your exterminator might want to get a jump or something,” she offered. “They clean our side of the street tomorrow morning and I’m sure he’d hate to end up getting a ticket. I heard they’ve gone up to $75 dollars!”

“We’ll definitely give him the heads up when he gets back,” Trish assured her.

“I’d love to stay, but I’m expecting a call from my daughter in a bit,” she sighed, walking with Trish toward the foyer. “I must say that I love what you’ve done with the place. It’s a wonderful home, and it would’ve been a shame to let it go to ruin after that tragedy eight years ago.”

Trish gently touched the woman’s shoulder, keeping her voice calm. “What tragedy?”

“The Pimbleton Case? It was all over the news for months. I’m surprised you haven’t heard about it. They really should’ve given you the story when showing the place, not that it would have any effect on the home itself. I mean, a house is still a house. But, people have a right to know when they’re investing a great deal of money.”

“What happened?” Vaughn inquired, clearly worried.

“They lived here for several years, and one day the father up and murders his wife and daughter without a second thought. The police made the newspapers keep the details scarce, but he supposedly did something so terrible to the bodies that the coroner wasn’t certain how they even were killed.”

Vaughn glanced at Trish, who looked noticeably pale. The reason for them finding this house at the more-than-reasonable rate was now sickeningly apparent.

“Did they catch the husband?”

“Oh yes,” Mrs. Bondelli nodded. “Someone like that, they can’t just let stay at large. He ended up in a hospital out in Carroll County for people that aren’t right in the head. I’m sure his aunt that came to visit the family for a while must’ve been especially hurt by what happened. I can’t recall her name, but I think she was from Europe or someplace.”

Unfortunately, she couldn’t provide any more information that was helpful. They both walked her to the door and watched her disappear down the sidewalk.

*  *  *

Pied Piper, who informed them the next morning that they’d heard no word from Malik, sent a second technician with a tow truck to retrieve the van and equipment. He assured them that the proper repairs would be made within 48 hours, as well as the fee cut in half for the inconvenience they’d experienced.

They might’ve missed the impromptu home invasion that night had Vaughn opted to take the beltway home, the 45-minute traffic deadlock having spared them the whole ordeal. But, Vaughn, being compelled to take the scenic route home after having dinner at Chevy’s, got him and Trish home mere minutes after the intruder arrived.

Malik’s handiwork had temporarily silenced their alarm system, so they’d made it a point to leave the living-room light on. Having entered the foyer they were in the process of removing their coats when the man in the dirty scrubs jumped Vaughn.

“You moved her!” His breath reeked of cigarettes and halitosis.

“Moved who?!” Vaughn struggled to throw the wild-eyed man off him until he pressed the paring knife to his throat.

“Get off him!” Trish was now brandishing the aluminum bat, ready to bash their intruder’s skull in.

“You moved her!”

“We heard you the first time!” Vaughn protested, starting to realize what that larger object they’d seen on Malik’s PDA might have been.

“Why’d you have to go and cut into the wall?” the guy cried like some frustrated child. “It would’ve been just fine if you’d left it alone!”

“We didn’t cut into the damned wall!” Trish corrected, still holding her weapon. “That was the guy from the pest control company! Maybe you oughta be pressing a damned knife to his throat!”

“You swing that, and he’s dead!” the man threatened, his eyes frantic.

“If you even nick him I will beat your ass with this thing like you’ve got some candy in you!”

“Trish,” Vaughn spoke calmly, “put down the bat.”

“Like hell!” his wife declined.

“Baby, this is Mr. Pimbleton.” Vaughn was breathing shallowly through his nose.

“I don’t give a shit who this crazed hobo ass is!” Trish’s cheeks were flushed now.

“The former owner of this house. Please, Trish, just put the bat down and everything’s going to be okay.” His eyes went to their unwelcome visitor. “You got a first name?”

The intruder wasn’t quite sure what to make of this. “Ted.”

“Okay, then, Ted,” Vaughn replied evenly, “I’m Vaughn and this is my wife, Trish. What is it that you seem to think we moved?”

“Not ‘what’! Who! I put her in the wall before the police came for me, and she’s not there anymore!”

“Who did you place in the wall?”

“My Aunt.”

*  *  *

Not only was Vaughn able to persuade Trish to lower her weapon, but managed to get Ted to release him, as well. The nervous man still held on to the knife, but, at least, it was no longer pressed against Vaughn’s jugular.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in a hospital somewhere staring at ink blots right now?” Trish wasn’t the least bit interested in being civil.

“I found out a week ago the place had been sold when my cousin came to visit,” Ted revealed, scratching his unruly beard stubble. “They send the soiled linens out to be cleaned, so I was able to hide in the laundry. The hospital has so-so security.”

“We noticed.” She glared at Vaughn when he lightly nudged her. “So, you wanna tell us why you murdered a helpless old woman and stuffed her in our basement wall?”

“‘Helpless’?” A hoarse hiccup escaped his throat that could almost be a laugh. “Yeah, that’s a good one. She was about as helpless as a hungry water moccasin.”

“Is it true you killed your wife and daughter?” Vaughn asked, weighing out just how far gone this man was.

“It’s my fault they’re dead, but I’m not the one who murdered them.”

“Look, Ted,” Trish studied him, “it’s not a good time to be vague right now.”

“Did you know ‘Ring around the Rosie’ was really about the Black Plague?” he suddenly asked.

“They talked about it on the History Channel once,” Vaughn offered.

“I didn’t know until six years ago when I was looking through an encyclopedia on Europe at the hospital library. We used to sing that all the time as kids, none of us having a clue as to how screwed up it actually was. It’s amazing all the terrible stuff’s that’s hidden as something sweet and innocent. For Christ sake, even “Rock-a-bye Baby” is about abusing kids.”

“Your aunt...” Trish probed, her free hand absently playing with the keys in her jeans pocket.

 “All the family told me about Edina was that she was our rich great aunt from somewhere in Europe, but that could’ve been anywhere. I mean, Europe’s huge. My aunt came to stay with my cousin in Delaware for a while. I met her only once when I was 9 after my cousin’s mom died two months after she got there. She paid visits from time to time with members of our family, often lavishing her fortune on them as she did. Other than pinching my cheeks and talking like one of those people off Masterpiece Theater, I guessed she was all right.”

Ted related that he’d thought nothing about his aunt until the mortgage became a burden, getting laid off from his job as a brick layer at Tiber Construction. They’d been living there for a few years and, faced with the possibility of having to move, he figured they could tolerate sharing their home for a while with an elderly relative if it meant salvaging it.

“I honestly thought she was rather sweet at first,” Ted shook his head in disbelief. “Her accent and how she loved making tea for all of us. I knew she had to be up there in years, especially since she wasn’t exactly 35 when I met her as a kid. But, to be elderly, she was spry as hell and took good care of herself.”

“How long did she stay with you?” Vaughn asked.

“She had to have been here about three months,” Ted replied, wiping perspiration from his brow. “I know that because Justine Iverson, who babysat for the Yardly family across the street, went missing a month after she’d been with us. She’d come by once selling chocolate bars for her school, and Aunt Edina had insisted that she wanted to order five whole boxes. There was talk that she’d run off with some guy from school, but it never really panned out. Cheryl, my wife, began having these episodes where she’d get fatigued in the middle of making dinner or heading off to work.”