It was Charlie. He raised an eyebrow as he saw the hole of death pointed at him. “Guess you were expecting someone else.”
I put the gun down and sighed. I cocked my head, gesturing that he should come in.
He looked like the ever geeky kindergarten teacher he was. He still had that sickening tie that I hate so much. The yellow one with Donald Ducks.
“I could shoot you for just that tie.”
He looked down. “My six year olds love it.”
“Exactly. Immature taste.”
“So what else is new?
He spilled a couple of pictures containing Ben’s corpse in various angles on the table from his backpack. Streaks of vibrant red were prominent in every one of them. “I quickly went to the crime scene before the cops got there. Haven’t looked through them yet.”
If anyone died among us, Charlie would always be the first to know. He was the one who often felt our presence.
If only those kids knew what skeletons he had hidden away in his closet. Literally.
I whipped out my glasses and studied one of the pictures.
“Fuck! What happened to your hand?” he cried out, seeing Susie bandaging her fingers.
His hands came into contact with hers. It lingered longer than necessary before she waved him away. I pretended not to notice.
It seemed ironic that Ben who often played victims of killers in his movies would end up as one himself. Well, life always had a weird sense of humor.
“Extreme lacerations. That tells us nothing,” I muttered, flipping through the photos. One in particular caught my eye. I drew an inward breath as I studied the latest development.
Charlie saw it. “Shit.”
Lying next to Ben’s face was a red plump thing which at first glance you’d mistake for a chunk of raw beef.
It was his tongue.
To be continued
Photo by more noir
Read Part 1