A Death Displaced (32 page)

From the front door, the first thing Juliet’s eyes picked up on was the view of the hills. Exactly as she had wanted. She was drawn straight to it and knew the customers would be too. The neutral tan, brown and chrome scheme set the mood, and the dashes of red were optional distractions that weren’t officious enough to be jarring.

She hadn’t realised that while she took it all in, everyone else was waiting for her to say something. Her hands were drawn up together, partially covering her mouth, and her fingertips were gently on her lips. ‘It’s perfect.’

Roy and the others made various jubilant sounds. ‘You had us worried there.’

Lillian put her hand against Juliet’s back. ‘Your café is beautiful. Sweetheart,’ she paused to come stand in front of her granddaughter, and then looked up at her, ‘I always knew you would do well for yourself.’

It was strange. Juliet suddenly saw how lonely she’d been before. She only noticed it in contrast to how much she enjoyed her present company. It didn’t upset her to realise it; instead, she decided to take it as a lesson.

She smiled. ‘Let’s put these shiny new tables to use. We have cake to eat.’
 

Chapter 27

Free At Last

Ryan Fraser watched Juliet walk out the large front door of Grendel Manor. The smile he’d pasted to his face was hard to maintain. But now she was finally out of sight.

Stuck up bitch.
‘You better treat Kim like royalty, meh, meh,
meh!
’ he mocked her last words aloud, all to himself.

He pivoted on the spot and looked down at the blood, the broken picture frame, the cracked Alexander the Great statue head, and Aldrich’s cane on the floor. After a minute of blankly staring, he released a long, drawn-out sigh.

Casually, he walked over to the cabinet that had once held the Alexander the Great statue head on one of its shelves. He picked up a Greek-looking vase and then launched it across the entry hall. The sound of it splitting and then smashing onto the floor sent a wave of pleasure down his spine. A triumphant laugh came out of his chest.

The next ornament met an explosive end when he juggled it a few times, then purposefully missed the next catch. Knowing Aldrich, these items were probably hundreds of years old, maybe thousands, but that made it all the more pleasurable to destroy them.

Ryan became impatient, so he wedged his fingers behind the cabinet and managed to topple it. It came down with a thwack of air. There were clanging, thudding, splitting noises, and other sounds of destruction.

It had been harder to tip over than he’d expected. He stopped to breathe, and peered down at the mess. All the times he’d been angry around Aldrich and had wanted to kill him or
at least
break something, to vent his anger, but he never could;
now
, though, this was too sweet. The entire manor waited to be defiled.

He took out his penis and urinated on the floor, aiming widely and adding an exultant laugh to the display. The smelly yellow liquid spread out, and a trail of it mingled with the dried pool of blood.

When he was done he thought about Aldrich’s dead body, assuming he couldn’t have been dead for much more than half an hour. That was the impression he got from Juliet and the Crystan boys, seeing as they hadn’t even cleaned up Aldrich’s blood by the time Ryan had arrived. That would have been the first thing most people would do, after hiding the body.  

Having disposed of dead humans before (some his own doing, most on Aldrich’s behalf), he supposed he ought to sort out Aldrich’s corpse before rigor mortis began to set in. It was black outside, so he stepped around his puddle of piss and headed for the utility cupboard to grab a torch.

In the cupboard there were some spare rolls of cling film. He took one with him, and then went to the bathroom where he stored the clean linen, towels and other laundry. He selected a white king-sized bed sheet, and carried it under his left arm.

As he walked down the hallway, he shouted at the walls, ‘I’m not your fucking housekeeper anymore!’

Aldrich had been lazy when it came to housework, leaving Ryan to maintain Grendel Manor by himself. Or
mostly
maintain it, at least; the back garden was untouched, overgrown field mostly, and Aldrich hadn’t cared for some rooms of the manor, locking them tight and allowing dust to settle in.

For some reason, Aldrich had never let Ryan out the back.
Maybe I’ll find out that reason now …

Cleaning was what he’d spent most days doing, often while having to listen to Aldrich drone on about life stories. It was odd to walk freely around the house without being aware of Aldrich’s presence. Although Ryan would let himself into the manor, he’d always shout for Aldrich and wait for orders. He’d avoided exploring freely in case he somehow upset his master by doing so. If he’d seen something he wasn’t supposed to, then Aldrich could have wiped his mind, and no harm would have been done. But Aldrich had always insisted he would
never
use his ability on Ryan … apart from the one time they’d agreed upon.

‘Why don’t you like using it on me?’ Ryan would ask.

And his master’s response was always, ‘You are my friend. Yes. My trusted companion.
Yes.
You are like me, Ryan;
you enjoy it.
’

I enjoy it? Enjoy what?
He’d never figured out what Aldrich had meant by that. If Ryan had been so trusted, then why had his master watched over him in most tasks?

With the torch on bright, Ryan Fraser used it to follow the directions Tom had given. The dark didn’t unsettle him; he hardly felt nervous at all. Even when he heard the occasional rustle, maybe rabbits, mice or rats, it never startled him.

The trees grouped around him as he walked into the woods. Barely visible behind murky night-clouds, the moon offered minimal lighting. The body was nearby, buried under a pile of leaves. He spotted the shadowy heap against a tree, and then the smell that hit him confirmed he’d found it. Mixed with the late afternoon air was the stench of faeces, pungent in comparison to the fresh, wintry breeze.

He placed the bed sheet and cling film down, then began to brush the foliage off of the body. At one point, his hand bumped against something metal and cold. He realised what it was and grabbed the haft, yanking the knife out of Aldrich’s chest. It made a gloopy sound.

Using the torch to check, he recognised the blade as the one that had killed Samantha Crystan. He hadn’t been so honest when he’d told the Crystan boys earlier that he knew little about their mother’s death. It seemed that Tommy had used the same weapon to end Aldrich’s life as Aldrich had used to kill Tommy’s mother. He sniggered at the coincidence.
Was it fated to happen this way?

When most the leaves were off, he pulled Dead-Aldrich by the feet, away from the tree. The body made a flatulent noise as he moved it. Even in the dark, he could see the wet patch around the crotch. He looked further up the lifeless form, up to the face he knew and hated well.

Dead-Aldrich’s face looked different. It was swollen and smeared with dried blood, but it also seemed limp and relaxed. Although discerning colour in the dark was difficult, he could see the lips were pale, and the rest of Aldrich’s features weren’t their usual shade either.

Ryan scooped up a handful of dirt and mud, and then forcefully pressed it into the corpse’s eyes. With clenched teethed, he pushed the clumps of earth deeper; Aldrich’s eyes seemed to sink into his skull. Ryan thought of urinating on the dead body to further defile it, but he’d already used up his supply.

He repeated the process with the dirt, but this time forcing the mud into Aldrich’s mouth and open chest wound. The sense of power overwhelmed him; he could have swum in it, danced in it, rolled in it, bathed in it!

‘Fuck you, Aldrich Grendel,’ he whispered to the body that had muck for eyes. ‘Immortal my ass. Look at you now.’

He searched all of Aldrich’s pockets, but found they were all completely empty. That wasn’t too strange in itself, as Ryan’s master had always used to return to his bedroom to collect items. Everything was hidden away there. The odd part was that Aldrich kept the room locked. So where was the key? Ryan tried to remember if he’d ever seen Aldrich lock the door, and if he’d noticed where he normally placed the key afterwards.

‘I
need
that key, Aldrich. Where is it?’

He wasn’t surprised when Aldrich didn’t reply.

‘I’ll find it. You can’t fool me now,’ he said hoarsely, and patted the corpse.

To the side of the body was a throw. He covered Dead-Aldrich with it, tucking it underneath and around him. The cling film roll was behind Ryan, so he reached for it and prepared it for use. He lifted Aldrich’s head off the ground. Then he started to wrap the cling film around it as tight as possible.

Once the head was done, he moved on to the neck. Wrapping the shoulders was where it became difficult. He laid the cling film out a few metres along the ground and rolled the body over it, again and again. For some of the way, he had enough strength to hold Aldrich upright and to wrap with the other hand, but it tired him.

Small twigs, leaves, the throw, and various mess got wrapped up inside too. He worked his way down to Aldrich’s feet. There was just enough cling film to give it a tight finish. He was left with what looked like a shiny mummy.

Then he laid the king-sized bed sheet flat out on the ground. He dragged and rolled the squidgy plastic mummy into the centre of the sheet, and then wrapped it up, turning it over and over into the white fabric. Above Aldrich’s head he tied a secure knot, and below his feet he did the same.

Now it looked like a giant white (slightly stained) Christmas-cracker.

But it would reduce the smell. And he could drag the body using the blanket. That was easier than lugging him along by the feet, he hoped. He coiled the end of the sheet, situated below Aldrich’s toes, around the wrist of his right arm and began to pull the giant Christmas-cracker through the underbrush and toward the manor.

It took tremendous effort and frequent breaks, but eventually he reached the finish line and tugged the body through the back door. He heard a bony thump as Dead-Aldrich’s wrapped head came over the door frame and met the floor.

A few times on the way, he wished he would have taken the corpse to the cliff edge instead, and pushed it over. It would have been less distance. But it also would have been such a boring way for Aldrich to go; Ryan wished for a more interesting idea to strike him. Something that would make his skin crawl with delight.

Ryan had always had difficulties empathising with people; he tried to respond the way he thought he should, or he attempted to emulate their behaviour, but he never felt what others seem to feel. The only times he did experience jolts of real emotion were when he proved himself better than someone else, or when he saw them weak, injured, or suffering. A giddy thrill would wriggle through him, and he’d yearn for more.

Another type of utility room, next to the kitchen, held a large chest refrigerator in it. He hauled the body over to it, smudging mud and grass-juice across the tiles, and then opened the lid. The refrigerator was almost empty; he’d planned to do the house shopping later in the week, and this chest had only been used for overflow when Aldrich got carried away with his list.

He took some time to gather his strength, and then began to lift Dead-Aldrich into the fridge. The corpse didn’t smell much, or if it did, it was sealed off by the cling film and the bed sheet; but every now and then, the pong of faeces would escape the wrapping and get caught in Ryan’s noise. Once it was inside, he set the temperature to 2°C. It would be too stiff and difficult to move if he froze it, but at this temperature the decomposition would be slowed at least, and the body would hopefully be moveable for when Ryan decided what to do with it.

Now that was out the way, he headed for Aldrich’s bedroom.

Forceful kicks and shoulder barges backed with all of Ryan’s might weren’t enough to break open the sturdy door. It simply rattled, unimpressed. ‘I’m not searching the entire manor for a key!’ he shouted. ‘I know you, Aldrich; you must have kept it close by.’ Something twigged in his mind. ‘Ah!’

He marched for the indoor balcony and then hurried down the steps. With his return to the entry hall, he realised his previous actions had been on the impulsive side. But that wasn’t important right now; his eager hands rushed towards Aldrich’s cane.

The brass oval head unscrewed as he twisted it. When it came away, it revealed itself as a key. A small chamber had been hollowed out in the wood to accommodate for the hidden piece of metal.

Ryan snapped his master’s precious cane over the banister of the staircase. Jolt of pleasure. Then he jogged back upstairs with the key in hand.

The door unlocked. Every time he’d been in this room before, Aldrich had watched over him; he’d only been permitted entrance when the bedding needed a change, or for other general cleaning.

He knew exactly where to look first. Aldrich had always stood with his hand resting on a small trinket box on every occasion he’d let Ryan into the bedroom. He’d said to Ryan, ‘When I release you. Release you, one day. Soon.
I promise
. You can have what’s in this box. One day.’

Actually, he’d said those words to Ryan in various different ways a number of times. ‘One day, Aldrich,’ Ryan muttered. ‘It was always
one day.
’

Inside the trinket-box there was a tiny string bag, pieces of paper, a simple key, and an old ring. He picked up the first bit of paper: it was faded and dark, and on it was some handwritten text in a language he didn’t know. From the way it was signed off, it looked like a love letter.

The ring had an intricate weave pattern, gold, and in the diamond-shaped gaps of the criss-cross there were clear gemstones. A wedding ring? He pocketed it. Then he eased the small string bag open and shook its contents into his palm: human teeth. He guessed they must have belonged to the person that wrote the love letter, unless Aldrich had written the note?