Warwick Contemporary Etiquette A Novella

1. Auflage 2017
ISBN: 978-1-5439-1694-2
Verlag: BookBaby
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: Adobe DRM (»Systemvoraussetzungen)

E-Book, Englisch, 200 Seiten

A metaphysical murder mystery that will leave you hanging.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Warwick, James

Leseproben

Chapter One
  Toward the end of the drive home, John Fielding and his father sat anxiously in the car, the enjoyment of the movie they were returning from a distant notion, as a deer just ahead of them began to cross the road within reach of the front bumper causing considerable panic. They would see animals often on this road, but for living in the Keystone state, it was always normal, still it had never been this frightening for either of them. Like something seen from afar, through a window, or the detached violence on television, the unknown in their minds, and their subsequent lives, had never gotten this close. The deer always made it to the lawn at home looking for something to eat during quiet times at home, and often just before dawn. This situation, however, would prove to be much different. Mason, John’s father, had such a quick reaction to the deer, most likely due to his own innate abilities he held on to since his college days as a two-sport athlete, that the situation led them to another misfortune, but not until fear would invade their private sanctuary, the comfort of a large home. Gripping the handle on the inside of the door with strength of resolve, John became frightened, and the fight in him made him feel tired. After he had seen his mother run over a squirrel a few weeks before, and his subsequent reaction of disbelief that the squirrel could no longer move, an epiphany in his small world, he now had an understanding of an idea difficult to grasp, the situation a learning one for the young boy about a subject, like most, he could not understand. On this night, the fearful thought that something like that could happen to him, or even something worse, crept into his thoughts. The last couple of weeks, for an unknown reason, similar thoughts were worrying him. During daydreams in school, he often thought about the few negative events in his life, his perfectionism overriding his happiness, causing him to have nightmares. Mason flashed the high beams as the deer jumped across the drainage ditch, running back into the woods, as the anti-lock brakes slowed the car down quickly to a position on the other side of the road in the path of oncoming traffic. Luckily, the road was very seldom traveled, and there wasn‘t a vehicle in sight. His father said, “close call,” in an effort to lighten the situation, and alleviate the fears of his son. After noticing that the other lane was clear, and as they both made eye contact, John saw a drip of sweat on his father’s forehead, and then while looking back to the road, thought how lucky they were to have not hit the animal. But he also saw the fear in his father’s eyes, something he wished he hadn’t the ability to notice, or the presence of mind to remember, a skill that he had learned just that moment, in the midst of near tragedy. They drove the mile and a half to the house down the dirt road to the former summer house, leaving the ride with a small portion of uncertainty, the kind that comes with change, or the presence of a checkered past. While pulling into the driveway, John noticed his bike on the side of the lawn, and then remembered that it had been raining all day, and he hadn’t brought the bike out from the garage on this day, and didn’t remember using it the day before. Mason hit the button on the garage door opener so they could park in the heated garage; the security his mother needed to confront the cold winters, and the luxury he had become accustomed to. The forecast said the rain would continue to come down hard, the memory of his grandfather‘s funeral, on a cool, rainy day in April, sticking with him with the indelibility of a substantial period of hardship, and pain. John’s eager anticipation of the return home, so he could escape from the weather, and everything else he wanted to steer clear of tonight made him energetic, yet unsure of why he felt that way. Mason began to dread seeing his wife, undoubtedly drunk again, as she always would be on the evenings of her book club meetings, as he remained uncertain of what, if anything, he should say to her about it, a new and pressing issue that he had recently been able to see that something had gone wrong. He never could say anything about it in their twenties when he drank as well. Mason always thought that her drinking had gotten worse, but, as always, she just wouldn’t listen to the possibility that she might have a problem, just another concern for her, as she sat inside the sitting room, and took a sip of a shaken Gordon’s martini. As the door began to open, John saw a figure appearing to be a man with a beard, hiding in the corner in a shadow. He didn’t know what to say to his father, as a gripping fear took hold, his hands beginning to sweat, and his eyes starting to tear, the way young boys react to fear or the unknown, as the man mouthed the words, “Don’t say anything.” While pulling into the garage, Mason began to relax, the escape from the animal encouraging him. The timing of this digression would provide the culprit with an opportunity, the split second that he could not compromise or reconsider. Mason got out of the SUV and the garage door behind them began to close. While closing his eyes to rest from the near collision, John, fatigue from his inability to cope with fear, and fear of the unfamiliar, told his father he had fallen asleep, and decided to leave him in the car; he would wake him up later. But for John it was too much, and he quickly came back to life. Mason opened the door to the coatroom inside, where the intruder had entered and John sat staring in fear. On his third step inside felt a breath at the back of his neck, and a gun in his back. He heard the voice say, “Don’t move,” and he didn’t. “Bring me to the jewelry,“ the man with the gun said next, giving Mason the hope that that was all he wanted, and giving him a false sense of safety as he had the gun in his back, the fear not yet registering. As a lawyer, he had dealt with many circumstances of an unpleasant nature, the unwanted family friend, the jaded wife stalking her previous husband, and thought this just another part of his routine, not knowing of any other way to react. The fight or flight syndrome convinced Mason to fight the intruder, he thought it could be his last chance. Remembering a move he had learned in a martial arts class as a child, he quickly tried to grab the gun, and throw the man to the ground using his hip as the leverage. His efforts were too slow, and while turning, with enough force to threaten the intruder, the man fired, lodging the .25 caliber Ruger bullet in his spinal cord, severing his T-6 vertebrae as his strong legs went numb. As he dropped to the ground, he saw his son standing behind them, calling 911 on his handheld, his face as pale as the walls of the garage. Knocking the phone out of his hand, the criminal ran further into the house looking for the jewelry. The proximity of the house to other houses, told the intruder he had more time, his greed overcoming the cries of Mason Fielding‘s son, his cold blood having already overcome the obstacle of Mason Fielding, then his heart beat vigorously, and his breathing quickened. Nancy’s screams, upon hearing the gunshot made her flee the room, and then made her way to the garage through the portico on the back deck, entering through a back door. The gunman made his way around the house until he found the jewelry in the master bedroom. He took what he could fit into the little cloth bag he took out of his coat pocket, and made his way down the stairs through the same path that Nancy took when she first heard the gunshot. The killer, in steadfast anticipation that the next door would lead back to the garage, and that either the garage door would still be open, or he would just press the open button, except he hadn’t noticed its location, kept running. John’s mother began to make another call to 911, but their distance from the city told her that it might take both the police and an ambulance too long to get there. Her worry precipitated a terrible fear. Now that everyone was gone, she began to wish her friends were still there, her weakness, and an overwhelming fear of what is going to happen next kept subduing her inviolability, the power of two martinis at 6:00, and as the murderer made his way to the garage, he saw her on the phone, and knocked it out of her hands, before ripping off her navy-blue blouse, and gold cross necklace with the lobster claw clasp. He knew he had to make his escape quickly, but he also knew that they were in the middle of a forest, there wasn’t another house for a few miles, and he still had a few minutes. The beauty of Mason’s wife was something else that he had for a long time thought of taking. Her face went crimson with fear, anger, rage, and then vulnerability as he began to take off her pants in an attempt to rape her. He then saw the young boy standing there, entering to see what had happened, and the criminal looked toward him, both of them making eye contact in a situation that lasted several seconds, both a heartbeat and an eternity, and a moment the man with the gun had waited many years for, until he changed his mind, led himself away from the woman, found the garage door open button, and fled through the driveway, running toward the basketball hoop, onto the lawn, and into the trees in the distance, disappearing as fast as he could, the act of taking off his mask just before his attempted rape, to him a moment of intimacy, the only thought bothering him through his run back to his routine, and ostensibly normal life. John...