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"Let's go to Lane's house and find the keys to the farmhouse, then go there while there is still plenty of daylight."
"That's a good plan. Tell me, Detective, have you spoken to any of the bartenders in town about these people that Lane convinced to change there lives and leave?"
"No, not yet, but be assured that come Monday I will be making the rounds."
They arrived at Keene house in town and went inside. Both searched in the most likely places and soon found a large key ring containing various keys. Then they drove out to the county road and spotted the stand of trees which sheltered the Keene farm house. Before they tried to enter the house Saracena took out her camera and took a series of photos of the exterior of the house from all sides. After ten minutes of trying various keys the detective was able to open the front door and they both entered the small house. The electricity was still on so they turned on lights in all the rooms. The house was small and tidy as the main house had been. Saracena carried a backpack with containers for collecting anything to be further examined.
"Fred, before we look around let me take a panoramic series of pictures.. Why don't you go check what is in the work shed while I look over the house."
Lessing laughed, "Work shed! Great, I like work sheds."
"All men like work sheds. I think my father spends half his life in his work shed. Not that my mother minds that. The house stays clean that way. Then look for anything unusual. Put on a pair of these latex gloves so you won't leave any fingerprints that could cause confusion later. Let me know if you see anything but don't touch it. I especially want to examine the bathroom."
"I understand. If I see anything interesting, I'll holler."
"Right. Interesting is the operative word."
Lessing walked around the back of the farmhouse to the work shed. The exterior was weathered and had not been painted in a number of years. There was a large swing out double garage door with windows that were painted over. On the side was a solid door that was also worn. The impressive thing about both the swinging doors and the regular door is that they were both well fastened with new, heavy-duty padlocks. Lane was going to make it difficult for a teen-age kid to break in and take his tools. Lessing quickly found a shiny key to open the padlock on the side door. He went in and turned on the switch for the fluorescent light fixtures hanging from the rafters.
On his left the wall was lined with a decent work bench and storage cabinets beneath. Above the work bench was a peg board with hand tools neatly suspended on posts. At the far end was a small garden tractor and garden tools. A wheel barrow leaned against the end wall. Along the opposite wall was a row of power tools: a drill press, a circular saw, a band saw, a grinder sharpening tool and a belt sander. Lessing felt very comfortable in this environment. In the center of the room was a folding card table with a pair of folding chairs on either side. The one negative he could see was the condition of the floor. It was concrete and apparently had been heavily stained with oil which Lane had attempted to clean up with a heavy layer of oil absorption material. This material was stained a dark brown and should have been discarded. It really detracted from the overall setting. The heaviest concentration was near the card table. Lessing went closer and leaned over to examine the coarse material more closely. Somehow it did not look like it was oil that had been absorbed. There was no oily odor and no shine of oil. In fact it reminded him more of a butcher shop than a machine shop.
He decided to check the contents of the storage cabinets below the work bench. The leftmost door revealed old cigar boxes, shoe boxes, and plastic trays.. He pulled them out one after another to find the expected nuts, bolts, nails, electrical connectors and other small hardware. He closed the cabinet door and moved to his right to open the center door.
"Bingo!" he said to himself with a deep breath followed by a low whistle. For someone opposed to .drinking wine this was a giant step up the ladder of alcohol consumption. Both shelves of the center cabinet were lined with strong alcoholic liquors. Nothing elegant or expensive, just multiple bottles of scotch whiskey, bourbon, vodka, gin, rum, tequila: a home bartender's pride. What if the guest should want his whiskey on the rocks? There was a nice refrigerated ice chest sitting to the far side of the bench. Next to it was a case of cans of different soft drinks. A stack of plastic coated paper cups completed the picture along with a box of cheap plastic spoons and a dispenser of paper napkins. He was beginning to form a picture of one of Lane's interventions: Lane on one side of the table, the heavy drinker on the other side. Lane offered him what seemed a simple choice. He could choose a soft drink or alcohol, salvation or perdition, a ride home or a sword in the back.
Lessing went to the door and called out, "Detective, there's something here I think you should see." A minute later Saracena came from the house at a quick walk. Lessing stood just inside the shed and pointed to the cabinet. "Wow! That's a nice stash for a teetotaler. I suppose if he were against drugs we would have found a meth lab in here." She turned around and surveyed the other contents of the room. "Let's see if you have the same ideas that I do."
"Rather than driving the heavy drinkers away from their habits, I think he intended to terminate them. Not the habit, the drinker. The ones that listened to reason and abandoned the bars were allowed to go. But if they persisted, he invited them to a drinking party. All the bottles in the first row on those cabinet shelves have been opened. Some are almost empty. I think you will find a lot of interesting fingerprints on them. The color of the absorbent material looks more like dried blood than dried oil. It smells that way, too."
"Did you notice the Bible on the card table?"
"Yes, nice touch, that. Maybe they were given a last chance to repent. He read them some important passages to encourage them to change their mind. If they agreed to sleep it off and not drink any more, he may have let them go. Somehow I don't think the men he brought here would take that path. So he anesthetized them with enough liquor -- the poison of their choice at that -- and then performed his brand of biblical justice with a sword."
"I agree. I'm afraid you won't be seeing your sword again any time soon."
"That's no problem. It was a bargain and there are plenty available on the internet. My question is where are the bodies."
"My quick guess is he used that wheel barrow there to haul them into the woods here and bury them."
"Yes, you see there with the fertilizers and weed killers is a bag of lime. Handy for treating bodies. What do you say we make a quick walk through the woods? If we find anything, you can bring the rest of your department out here to do a proper search. It's getting late and there is no point in trying to do too much today. It's not as if anyone's life is at stake anymore."
Saracena nodded her agreement. "OK, lets start through the woods about thirty feet apart and see if we spot anything obvious. After all, we could be wrong about all this."
The wooded area was dense and about 200 yards deep. They found what looked like a path possibly made by the wheelbarrow. Lessing carried a shovel from the shed while Saracena carried her evidence bag and camera. They had walked halfway into the woods when they found a pile of broken branches . They pulled the branches away to reveal a mound of dirt.
"This looks fairly recent. It is still heaped and hasn't settled yet."
Saracen took a series of photos of the mound and then stepped back to let Lessing start digging. It took him half an hour to dig down about four feet where he came to a thin layer of lime, covering cloth.
"You can stop digging now. I've seen enough to not to be afraid of making a fool of myself. We'll go back to town and I'll call a meeting tonight to plan our activities for the future. This is going to be a big project."
"Fine. You take some more pictures to convince any doubters. Then we'll tape this area off and post some of your notices. I can leave before sundown and be home before my girl friend misses me
. I'm sure you'll keep me updated on your progress."
"Do you buy any other exotic toys on the internet? Maybe an old crossbow or a guillotine?"
"No, I don't have room in the apartment, but it is an interesting area to consider. I would probably have to import the guillotine. They aren't as shiny as swords.. I could rent it out to medieval festivals, though, and that might pay for it."
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About the Author
In his first life Max E. Harris was a computer system specialist living mainly in Houston but for periods in Scotland, Holland, Brunei and the even more remote wild lands of Sacramento, California. In his second life he moved to Como, Italy, where he walks in the woods with his dog Orso wondering what happens next. Harris wonders, Orso knows.
Harris can be contacted at
[email protected].
Other works by Harris are listed here.
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