Jeremy turned from the window and ran to the living room, "Denise! He's leaving!"
"Allright, let's move out, we've got to find that cadaver," Denise said.
Krug and Denise tucked handguns under the waistbands of their jeans, Richie already had one stuffed in his pocket, covered by his shirt. By this time, he was a bundle of nerves, his face had gone pale, and he was covered in sweat.
"Let's get going, Richie, this broad ain't gonna wait for us all night," Denise said.
"Denise," he murmured, "I don't feel so good."
"No shit," Denise said, "Richie, a lady is dead, I'd be worried if you were allright, after all, you're the only witness to this whole thing."
"I know."
"So quit dragging your feet and come on, by the time we get there the tramp won't be dead anymore," Denise said.
Richie drew in a long breath and finally said, "Allright."
They headed out and into Krug's car. He wasn't well known around this part of town, so nobody would be too suspicious of seeing him take his car and leaving it in the alley behind Mason's house. They quietly slipped out and headed up to the back door, it had been left unlocked.
"It ain't breaking and entering if the door ain't locked," Jeremy said.
"I agree," Denise said.
They slipped in and shut the door behind them, but left it unlocked incase they'd have to make a quick escape. They headed around to the front of the house, Jeremy and Richie had already started up the stairs and Denise stayed to give Krug his instructions.
"You're to stay down here and keep an eye on that window over on the end of the wall – when you see Mason's truck come into the drive, let us know, then get the hell out," she explained.
Krug saluted in what actually seemed to be a serious manner. He turned on his heel and headed over to the window from which there was a perfect view of the street and the driveway. Denise headed up the stairs after the boys and caught up with them in the hallway.
"Where was it?" Denise asked.
"In this bedroom," Jeremy pointed.
They followed him into the room and turned on the lights to get a better look. Richie went over to the door leading to the bathroom and shook the doorknob, "locked."
"I'll take care of that," Denise went over to the door and took a key ring out of her pocket. There were five different skeleton keys on it and she tried each one in the keyhole. The bolt shifted from the third key, Denise turned the knob and the door swung open. Richie flipped on the light switch to his side, and all they saw was a near-blinding white bathroom.
"Clean as a whistle," Jeremy said, "nothing out of the ordinary here."
Denise strutted over to the white porcelain bathtub and looked down, "Oh yeah?"
Richie and Jeremy followed her and saw a dark layer of caked on blood on the floor of the tub.
"Oh God," Richie muttered to himself.
"If you're going to puke, do it in the sink," Denise said.
"Why didn't it wash down?" Jeremy asked.
Denise turned on the taps and nothing happened, "No water—that's why. That's also why he left the door locked after moving the body."
"So the body was here," Richie said, "but where is it now?"
"How many bedrooms are left on this floor to search?" Denise asked.
"S-Six," Jeremy hissed in recollection.
"Well, let's check them out, because that broad has to be here somewhere," Denise said, "after all, she didn't just get up and walk away."
This was a weird business for Krug, he was used to being an escort, bodyguard, hitman, watchman, even a gravedigger, but rarely a lookout. Especially for a murderer, he was used to being a murderer, or at least a potential one if nothing else. It had been half an hour now and still no sight of Mason returning from his alleged doctor's appointment.
It had also been half an hour since he'd heard anything from anyone upstairs. It didn't take a genius to know that it meant they hadn't found the corpse yet.
If I'd murdered this dame, where would I stuff her? He asked himself.
He immediately answered himself; stuff her up the fireplace no doubt. Considering this house had a fireplace. If it didn't, he knew the next best answer, burn her in the furnace. Oh but there had been quite a watch on this house, and if smoke had been coming out of it, he would have at least heard of it from one of these three kids by now.
If they were right and he really offed a dame——they had to be right, they wouldn't go through all this trouble if they weren't. But just one kid saw what really happened, could they take his word for it? Of course they could, he saw what kind of a wreck this kid Richie had become. Nobody could fake it to look that realistic, not even anyone he had known or worked for, or even murdered himself.
How ironic, he thought to himself, these kids want me, an assassin and hitman, to help them catch some prestigious guy who offs a hooker, if that isn't a kick.
All the while he kept his eye staring out the window, nobody came near the driveway, nothing had changed.
"That's it?" Denise asked.
"That's all of them, she's not anywhere on this floor," Jeremy said.
"Well then we'll have to check the third floor next," Denise said.
"Come on, let's get this over with," Richie said.
Richie and Jeremy headed over to the backstairs leading up to the third floor, Denise went back to the last set of stairs and called from the top, "Hey Krug! See anything yet?"
"Not yet!" he replied.
"Okay! We're going up to the third floor now, so keep your eyes peeled!"
There was a long silence, and finally, "——Okay!"
Denise turned and once again followed the boys up the stairs.
"I'm really starting to hate this," Richie said, more to himself than to his friends though.
"Well it's no picnic for us either," Denise said in return, "but we're still here, aren't we?"
"Of course," Richie said, "I want to thank you two for agreeing to go along with this."
"Give me a break," Jeremy spoke up, "Do you honestly think that we'd leave you hanging in this mess? How long have you known us Richie Ryan?"
"Evidently not as long as we figured," Denise answered for Richie.
They reached the top of the stairs and saw they all had their work cut out for them. The hallway on this floor appeared to be nothing but a maze full of doors. Richie groaned as he subconsciously swiftly ran a hand through his hair.
"How are we going to get all these rooms covered before he gets back?" Richie asked.
"Anymore I don't think I care whether or not Mason finds us, I swear he tries one false move on either of you I'm opening his throat until his head rolls off his shoulders," Denise said.
"How would you do that?" Richie asked.
Denise was at a loss for an answer since she didn't have anything on her at the time being. Richie slowly nodded with an irritating smirk on his face, "See?" he asked.
"No matter," Denise said as she walked down the hall, "A house this big has to have plenty of knives in it, if not knives, something else that would do just as well."
"Where're you going, sis?" Jeremy asked. Richie had to agree it seemed a bit like she was abandoning them to sort through this floor themselves.
"You guys look through the rooms at this end of the hall, I'll look over here," she called back, "We should be able to cover more ground that way—and if that body is up here, we should be able to find it."
That being said, Denise turned and went down a corner at the end of the room and disappeared out of sight.
"You know," Richie said to Jeremy, "I can't believe she's your sister sometimes."
Jeremy made a noise that sounded like that of a combined grunt and snort, "You and me both – come on, let's see what we find."
They searched the rooms one by one and though they made good time on covering every room on the floor, it felt like an eternity before they were through. Most of the rooms were for storage; they were full of old antiques, lamps, one room kept a dress form in it, many old clothes, a violin case with a Stradivarius inside, there were some old paintings, kept in frames and other things to protect them. There were also large trunks and moving boxes in most of the rooms, all of which had been searched, only to find more things put way for storage. The body wasn't anywhere to be found, and they were about ready to give up.
"This is insane," Richie said, "we've searched through every room in the whole damn house and she's not here."
"Yeah, what'd he do?" Jeremy asked, "Cremate her in the furnace or something?"
"It's highly doubtful but not impossible," Denise responded.
Their attention went to the bright light that appeared at the window, and disappeared as quickly as it came.
"Oh swell," Richie said, "now it's going to rain."
"Might do a hell of a lot more than that," Jeremy said as he looked out the window, "those are some pretty big and dark clouds moving in –fast."
"Denise," Richie said, "I don't want to be here anymore –— can we leave now?"
"Yeah I guess we might as well –— doesn't look like we're going to find anything here tonight, huh Jeremy?" Denise asked.
"No – no, I guess not," he said, "I'll go tell Krug we're leaving."
Jeremy headed down the stairs with Richie and Denise behind him, while Jeremy went down the second flight of stairs, Richie stayed by a window on the second floor to rest, and Denise stayed with him.
"You feeling allright, Frizz?" Denise asked, "You're looking pale."
"I don't like this, Denise," Richie said.
"Who would? It's a terrible situation, but if we can find the body we'll get you out of it. Clearly the broad isn't around here so we'll have to look elsewhere."
"Hey SIS!" Jeremy called up the stairs.
"What?" she called back.
"Krug says he's going back to work so if we need him again to call him," Jeremy said.
"Fine," Denise said. It wasn't loud enough for Jeremy to hear her, but it didn't matter.
"DENISE!" he called.
"What is it now?" Denise asked.
They heard the young man stomping up the stairs in a rush, "We've got to get out of here now!"
"What?" Denise asked.
"It's Mason, he just pulled into the drive and he's going to be here any minute," Jeremy said.
"Oh shit!"
Richie lost his balance in excitement and fell against the window, the glass broke and he fell through, all he could do was scream as his body fell to the ground.
Richie wasn't sure whether he was dead or alive, he was surrounded by darkness and all he could feel was a booming headache. Wait a minute –— if he could still feel pain, then he had to be alive. Richie heard voices, he was almost positive it was Denise and Jeremy, but he wasn't sure. He forced his eyes open and saw them above him, standing at the edge of the room on the second floor where he just was. They jumped down and got him up on his feet, Jeremy took him by one arm and Denise the other and they ran before Mason had a chance to see them.
"Do you think he saw us?" Jeremy asked.
"I don't think so," Denise replied.
"Let me go!" Richie demanded, it was the first thing he'd said since he woke up.
If they had planned to let him go, it wasn't fast enough for Richie's patience, he put up a fight with them, causing all three of them to lose their balances and they fell to the ground, their bodies tangles of limbs and torsos.
"Richie!" Denise screamed, "Are you allright?"
"I – I think so," he replied, he hadn't given much thought to it.
"Come here," Denise reached past Jeremy and held Richie's face in her hands, she gasped, "My God, Richie –— when we get back to the house I'm going to have to get a better look at your face – you're covered in them."
"Covered in what?" Richie asked.
"Cuts," Jeremy said, "even I can see them."
"After hitting the window like that I think it's a wonder I'm not dead yet," Richie said.
"Come on Jeremy, help me get him up," Denise said.
Jeremy slipped Denise's feet out from under him and pulled Richie's arm out from under his back and they got up and headed for the house. Once again, Denise had Richie by one side and Jeremy by the other, to make sure he didn't fall.
"Suppose he did see us – then what?" Richie asked.
"Then it's curtains for him," Jeremy said, "That offing bastard is going to have to get through us before he gets to you – and you know we won't allow that."
"Do you feel something?" Richie asked.
"What?" Denise asked.
"Something," Richie answered.
There was silence among them for a minute, then finally – "I do," Jeremy replied.
"What?" Denise stopped so she might see what they were talking about.
She felt it too, "It's starting to rain."
"Great," Richie groaned, "Just – peachy."
Jeremy took a step forward, "Come on, let's get home before somebody sees us."
A bright light flashed on them, and they were all temporarily blinded as they heard a loud and clear voice, "Too late – they already see you."
The thrice of teenagers tried to see past the light to find out who was talking, the voice that spoke to them was loud, familiar, and almost cynical.
"Hello?" Jeremy called.
"Who said hello?" the voice asked.
"Whoever it is," Richie said, "He has a sense of humor."
"Who's out there?" the voice asked.
Denise saw past the light and grimly smiled, "Nobody you need to worry about – Mister Nash."
"What?" Richie asked.
The light turned off and the man walked up to the teenagers, "I got a bit anxious when you weren't here."
Now Richie knew that voice, the light had left him seeing bright dots, so he couldn't clearly see the face, so he asked, "Connor?"
Richie closed his eyes, waiting for the spots to disappear, he heard Connor walk up to him and place his hands on the sides of his face, "Richie – what happened to your face?"
"I fell through a window," he answered.
"A window?" Connor repeatedly, "What?"
"It's a long story," Denise answered, "We have to get Richie inside."
Connor went ahead and opened the front door as Jeremy and Denise led Richie inside. Jeremy took Richie by the arm and helped him down on the couch – after informing Connor to lock the front door, Denise went off to the back of the house.
"How do I look, Jeremy?" Richie asked.
"You don't want an honest answer, pal," Jeremy said.
"Is it bad?" Richie asked.
"T'ain't good."
"Would someone mind telling me just what has gone on tonight?" Connor asked.
"Would you mind telling me why you came up here after I specifically told you not to come?" Denise asked as she came back with a first aid kid, "You told me you were staying at a hotel."
"I also told you I was getting into town by five," Connor said, "I went to the hotel, I checked in, I unpacked – I called here several times and no one answered, so I assumed something was wrong, so I came up here – no one was here when I arrived."
"I'm afraid you came at a bad time," Denise told him as she headed over to the couch.
"Why? What's happened?" Connor asked.
Denise looked back at Connor momentarily and said nothing, she got back to the current matter at hand – cleaning Richie's cuts.
"Someone tell me what's going on here – if my nephew's involved in a case like this I want to know what's going on," Connor said.
"I'll tell you," Jeremy said, "We went over to Mason's house to find the broad. We didn't find her but we found out where he kept her."
"Where?" Connor asked.
"In a tub – in a bathroom on the second floor," Jeremy said, "we know she was there because the entire bottom of the tub is covered in dry blood."
"Which leads me to believe that he didn't attempt to preserve the body – or to keep it fresh," Denise said as she finished with Richie, "I think he put her there for a short while, before he could find a proper place to hide her – someplace where nobody would think to look – should anyone get suspicious."
"What makes you say that?" Connor asked.
"The water isn't running over there – and if he did put the body on ice while she was in the tub, the ice would've melted within time – washing at least part of the blood down the drain. Meaning it didn't take him long to find a place to put her, but where?" she asked.
"She's nowhere in the house, we searched all four floors," Jeremy said.
"And it's not likely that he burnt her body, otherwise we would've known something had been burning while we were in the house," Denise said, "Trust me on this one – I've got a nose like a bloodhound."
Jeremy shook his head, "After today, I'm not even going to say anything."
"So what now?" Connor asked.
"I don't even know where to begin," Denise said, "The possibilities are endless as to what he could've done with her."
"Maybe he drove her body out to a ditch or somewhere and left her out there," Richie thought.
"Good idea, genius, but he drives a pickup truck," Denise said, "It'd be a little odd if people saw her corpse flopping around in the back like a fish out of water."
"Maybe he wrapped her up in a bag or something," Jeremy thought, "Or – maybe he put her in a storage trunk or something and dumped her off somewhere."
Denise laughed through the side of her mouth, "Jeremy, I don't exactly think you're playing with a full deck of cards here –"
"Why not?" Jeremy asked, "Last night, we weren't always watching him – Hell, at one point none of us were even here, he could've seen his opportunity then."
"With all the ruckus that was going on last night, I seriously doubt he had the balls to try a stunt like that," Denise responded, "Think about it – with everybody coming and going, it would've seemed too risky."
"Well then what do you think he did with the body?" Jeremy asked.
"I don't know – I don't know, all I know is that broad, whoever the hell she is or whoever the hell she was, she is not in that house!" Denise said.
"Maybe –" Richie said.
All eyes turned to him, "What?" Connor asked, "Maybe what?"
"I was thinking –—" he hesitated, "Maybe while we were gone, he took her body and propped her up in the truck in the passenger seat –—nobody saw him and if they passed by it would've just looked like she was riding with him – maybe that's how he got rid of the body."
There was momentary silence in the room, finally Denise spoke, "Maybe you got something there, Rich – but let's say for argument sake that that is what he did, where would he take her? How would he do it without getting caught?"
"Maybe he went to some place where nobody would ever think to look for her, some abandoned place that's ready to fall apart, or—some wooded area—maybe off the land—somewhere near the Pacific Northwest—someone might find her there and think that she met an unfortunate death there."
"That's highly unlikely," Jeremy said, "From the way you described her, no woman in her right mind dressed like that would be going to a place like that – if anyone did find her, they'd know she was put there."
"Well I'm all out of ideas," Richie said, "There has to be a reason that that woman is not in that house over there. She has to be somewhere, but I can't think of where."
"I'm going to call Uncle David," Jeremy said, "Maybe he knows something we don't."
"I seriously doubt that, but go ahead," Denise said, "Well –— Connor, are you staying long?"
"I might as well – I don't exactly know what the hell's going on here but I want to make sure my nephew's allright."
"Fine," Denise looked down at her wristwatch, "Well – I guess if we're going to be here long, I might as well make dinner."
Jeremy stood by the phone listening to it ring for the 40th time, "Oh come on— pick up, Uncle David – for fuck's sake."
Denise watched Jeremy from her position at the stove – she finished stirring the spaghetti, put the turning fork down and went over to her brother. "Jeremy, give it up," Denise said as she took the receiver from her brother and hung up, "At this rate, Louie Armstrong will come back from the dead and serenade us with his horn before Uncle David picks up the phone, now come on, dinner's going to be ready."
Denise went back to the stove, turned off the burner and dumped the spaghetti into a colander in the sink and ran hot water over it for a few seconds. There were two pans left on the stove, one with meatballs steaming, and the other with spaghetti sauce boiling. "Everyone dish up," Denise said.
Connor and Jeremy got their dinner and sat at the table, Denise served herself a helping large enough to describe her as 'eating like a bird', but Richie stayed over by the window, looking out.
"Richie –" Denise groaned as she put down her fork, "For fuck's sake, Rich –— get your narrow arse over here and eat – You're not doing anyone any good by making yourself sick."
"I feel fine," Richie quietly replied, not for a second did his eyes look away from the window.
"You are not fine," Denise said, "You've barely said two words since I started on dinner – and all you do is look out the damn window. Either you get over here and eat – and calm yourself down, or I just may have to sedate you."
"With what?" Richie asked bitterly, not believing a word of it.
"Demerol, morphine, heroin – Rich – I don't care if I have to bust open a few barbiturates in with a highball – if you don't get back to what's left of your normal self –
I'm putting you under." Richie knew now that it was in fact a threat Denise would carry through.
Slowly and reluctantly, Richie moved from the window seat and went over to the sink and scooped up a plateful of spaghetti, and covered it in sauce, then sat himself down at the table to join them. He got a forkful of spaghetti into his mouth and swallowed part of it – but it didn't go down smoothly, he started coughing and gagging and forced the food out of his throat and spit it back out. Jeremy looked away and Connor closed his eyes momentarily, clearly any appetite anyone may have had was ruined by what they just witnessed.
"You allright, Rich?" Jeremy asked.
"I think so."
"Richie, do you need me to put you under until you can calm yourself down?" Denise asked.
"No!" Richie immediately replied.
"I don't know, after your little performance, I'd say it's quite obvious you're incapable of controlling yourself," Denise thought aloud, "Perhaps I should give you something that'll at least make you content for a few hours."
"Denise no! – Please!" Richie begged.
Connor couldn't believe what he was seeing, Richie, on the verge of tears – begging, pleading with Denise not to sedate him – and here he was, wanting to help the lad, but found himself unable to do so.
"I don't know Rich," Jeremy said, "Let's face it, you could use the rest – maybe it's for the better that she does it."
"No!" Richie stood up from the table and turned to go out the back door. He heard Denise say to Jeremy, "Quickly, get him!" and he turned around to retaliate, but it was too late, Jeremy grabbed Richie and had one arm locked over his and the other wrapped around Richie's neck, with a grip held so tightly on him, Richie found it impossible to fight back.
Denise got up from the table and headed into the dining room closet.
"No! Jeremy – please! Don't let her do it!" Richie begged.
Connor stood up and tried to head over to Jeremy to help Richie, but he couldn't – he couldn't move at all, it were as if sudden paralysis had taken over his body – all he could do was stand where he was, and stare into those deep blue eyes that practically pleaded with him for help.
"You should learn by now something about Jeremy," Denise said as she reentered the kitchen with a syringe in her hand, "He may be your friend, but he's my brother first. He'll listen to me before he will you."
Richie cried as he desperately tried one last time to get Jeremy to let him go – Jeremy instead tightened his grip on Richie and said, "Sorry Rich – I've got to do what I see as best for my friend." Jeremy looked past Richie and over to Connor, "You – get over here and hold him – we have to prepare him."
Connor gave a slight nod as he approached them, Jeremy moved out from behind Richie and Connor grabbed the lad by his shoulders and pinned his back against the wall so he couldn't move.
"Connor!" the boy wept, "Please! Don't let them do this to me!"
"I'm sorry, Richie," the Immortal's reply truly sounded regretful, "I think they're right on this –"
Richie cried harder at Connor's response, Connor had expected that – he truly was sorry but he couldn't let Richie go – he was worried the boy might hurt himself if he stayed this way.
Jeremy cleaned Richie's forearm where he would receive the injection, Denise removed the excess liquid in the syringe and approached Richie, who struggled more than ever to break loose. It hadn't occurred to him that by putting up the fight he was, he placed his arm out to easy access for the needle, and Denise pressed it further into his arm.
The painful shriek that emerged from deep within Richie sounded almost inhuman, it was enough to frighten Connor, thinking that something had gone wrong in the procedure.
"You can let him go now," Jeremy told him.
Connor took his hands off the boy's shoulders and stepped back, watching the vulnerable, hysterical, and exhausted child that used to be Richie, as he leaned against the wall and continued sobbing uncontrollably.
"My God, what have you done to him?" Connor asked.
"This is nothing done on our part," Denise said, "He did this to himself."
Richie's cries became harder to listen to as he sounded more than ever as if he were in excruciating pain. He slowly slid down to the floor and placed his cupped hands over his eyes as he wept. Connor wanted so desperately to go over to the lad, to embrace him, to assure him it would be allright, but he couldn't – once again, he found himself in a situation where he couldn't move. He watched as Jeremy and Denise approached him, they grabbed him by his arms in between his biceps and shoulders, and pulled him to his feet and they pulled him out of the kitchen and into the dining room. Watching them, Connor thought – it was like watching prison guards taking a man to the electric chair. Richie was trying to resist them, but he was too weak, his cries getting lower and a bit calmer, Connor followed after them.
He watched them place lay Richie down on the couch, Jeremy propped his head up on a pillow and Denise draped a light sheet over him – Connor was shocked by the sudden silence – he walked over to the couch to make sure Richie was allright – when he saw the boy, his eyes were closed, his lips were a bit mashed together into a frown, and his stomach was just barely rising and lowering as he breathed.