Maggie chewed her lip for a few moments. Finally she gave an almost imperceptible nod. “Okay. I’ll do my best. But you lead. I’ll follow.”
“That’s good. Just stay right behind me, so I know where you are.”
“Trust me — I’m not going anywhere on my own.”
“Good. So where should we start? Did you look upstairs here?”
Maggie shook her head. “I’ve only been in Wilma Mae’s bedroom and downstairs in the kitchen. But the smell is stronger down there.”
“Have you been in the living room? Or the dining room?”
“Not yet.”
“Okay. That’s where we’ll start.”
They checked on Wilma Mae, but she had fallen into an uneasy sleep, so they let her be as they started back down the stairs.
The putrid smell grew stronger as they reached the bottom and turned into the hall.
“Let’s look in there first,” Candy said, pointing to the living room. She had been here just a couple of days ago, interviewing Wilma Mae, but now the place looked foreign to her, and for a moment her head spun. She stopped to orient herself.
“Are you okay?” Maggie asked, touching her lightly on the shoulder.
Candy jumped involuntarily. “Yeah, I’m just... nervous.”
“Me too.” Maggie sniffed. “The smell’s pretty strong in here.”
Candy nodded. “Come on.”
She made a quick tour of the living room, checking under and behind the sofa, in the corners behind the tables, underneath the cabinets, and even behind the grandfather clock.
“Look in there,” Maggie said, pointing to a coat closet tucked into a back corner of the living room.
Candy nodded and took cautious steps toward it. Closing her eyes, she reached out, grabbed the doorknob, turned it, and flung open the door. She opened one eye and peered into the darkness as Maggie looked over her shoulder. “See anything?”
A musty smell came from the closet. Candy opened the other eye and leaned in for a closer look. She saw some old coats hanging on a wooden rail, boxes stuffed on a shelf above that, and well-worn boots, galoshes, and sneakers on the floor. A broom and dust mop stood in one corner, while a few more boxes were stacked on the floor to the left of the door.
“Nothing,” Candy said. She turned, surveying the room. “Whatever it is, it’s not in here. Let’s check the dining room next.”
The formal dining room occupied the right front corner of the home’s first floor. They found an antique mahogany table with a half dozen chairs, an oak hutch with dinner plates and more ketchup bottles arranged neatly on shelves, and an old cabinet-style stereo that probably dated back to the sixties. Again, Candy checked in the corners and under the furniture, as well as another closet stuffed with tablecloths, linens, and other soft goods, but found nothing.
They moved back out into the hallway and stood for a few moments eyeing the kitchen at the rear of the home. “I guess that’s next,” Maggie said, obviously not really wanting to move at all.
“I guess,” Candy said, her voice sounding a little hoarse.
Reluctantly they both started along the hall. As they moved toward the back of the house, the smell grew worse, more potent, like rotten trash that’d been left out in the sun too long. Maggie made a little sound of disgust in the back of her throat, and Candy had to swallow several times to settle her stomach. But they kept moving forward.
When they reached the kitchen, Candy immediately crossed it and opened the back door, letting in a cool breath of air. They both lingered by the door as they looked around the kitchen.
“I should check the cupboards and cabinets,” Candy said finally.
Maggie nodded. “I’ll check the pantry.”
They moved in different directions, opening doors and peering into the dark recesses inside. A few minutes later they rejoined by the back door. “Nothing,” Candy said.
Maggie looked back out into the hallway and pointed at a door halfway along, underneath the staircase. “Where does that lead?”
Candy shrugged. “A storage area? Or the basement?”
“The basement?”
They both looked at each other.
“I guess we have to look down there too, don’t we?” Maggie asked finally.
Candy nodded, feeling chilled. “I guess we do.”
“Okay.” Maggie paused, breathing hard. “You go first.”
Candy clenched her jaw tightly, pushing down her fear. She’d just checked out a basement yesterday, over at Mr. Sedley’s house. That had been creepy enough. Now she had to go down into another one. For some reason, the basements of these old homes always gave her the willies. For the most part they were dark, silent, cold places, full of spiderwebs, shadows, and secrets. She didn’t relish the idea of what she’d find down there. But she knew it had to be done.
Gathering her courage, she walked along the hall to the door, with Maggie right behind her. Gingerly she turned the knob and pushed open the door. Instantly they were assaulted by a smell that reminded her of decaying meat, only a hundred times worse. Candy held her hand to her nose and started breathing through her mouth, while Maggie coughed violently.
“It’s coming from down there,” Candy said, stating the obvious.
Maggie trembled in fear but managed to put her hand on Candy’s shoulder. “I’m with you,” was all she could say.
Her hand still holding shut her nose, Candy reached out to flick on the light switch, then stepped through the door onto a landing. With only a moment’s hesitation she started down the wooden steps, which creaked loudly as they descended. She had a fleeting concern that one of the steps would break on her, like she’d often seen in the movies, plunging her down into a dark abyss. So she held tightly to the railing, while Maggie held tightly to the back of her blouse, whimpering softly.
Fortunately none of the steps broke, and they reached the bottom safely. Here, the smell was partially consumed by the dankness of the basement, resulting in a sickening miasma of odors. Candy had to fight down a sudden urge to gag. Her eyes began to water.
“This is crazy,” Maggie whispered in a high voice behind her. “We should go back up and call the police.”
“Just give me a minute,” Candy told her. “I have to find out what’s causing it.”
“We know what’s causing it,” Maggie said, finally giving words to what they both were thinking. Her voice crackled in anguish.
“Then where is he?” Candy’s eyes swept the room.
Finally Maggie pointed. “There.”
Candy studied the area of the basement Maggie had indicated. She saw it then: a bulging blue tarpaulin, wrapped around something thick and heavy, stuffed into a far corner.
Slowly Candy approached the tarpaulin, feeling numb, as if she were outside of her own body and someone else was doing what she was about to do. Maggie didn’t follow her now; she stayed behind at the foot of the stairs, unable to move any farther. Candy didn’t blame her. She couldn’t believe she was doing what she was doing. Only thoughts of Wilma Mae and Mr. Sedley, and the love they shared, drove her on.
When she reached the tarp, she knelt on the cold, dusty cement floor. Holding her breath, she held out a hand and placed it delicately on the bulky wrapped mass in front of her. Whatever was inside felt cold and stiff.
She quickly removed her hand and looked for a seam, a way to unwrap it. But she could see nothing.
Uncertain of what to do next, if she should even disturb the macabre bundle in front of her, if it indeed turned out to be a crime scene, she did the only thing she could think of.
She started to roll it toward her.
Slowly she unspun the bundle across the floor, and slowly the tarpaulin began to unwrap, the leading edge falling away. She rose and stepped over it, so she could push the bulk of it along across the cement floor. It was a
