Brett McBean: Tales of Sin and Madness

She started down the hall, towards the room where she thought the crying had come from, her pad and pencil clasped firmly in her right hand, the flashlight slippery in her left. The door was open a fraction. She stopped, waited, listened. Her mouth felt dry and gritty, like she had downed a cup of sawdust.

She wanted to kick the door open and shine the flashlight into the room, like some groovy detective in one of those pulpy crime stories or Hollywood movies, but instead she inched the door open and waited until it was all the way against the wall before she raised the flashlight and scanned the room, giving any maniac inside plenty of time to prepare and attack. Nobody did. The only movement in the room was a scurrying black spider. It moved away from the glare of the light and into a huge, ornate web, disappearing, destined to remain there until either she left or some unfortunate insect got stuck in its trap.

Julia stepped into the room, swiping the flashlight over the roof, floor and corners, coming to the conclusion that it had once been a bedroom, most likely a child’s, but now it was gutted save for a few empty beer cans and chip packets.

No girl.

Julia waded through the junk on the floor, kicking up volumes of dust, keeping the light on the wall, fascinated by the wallpaper. It was peeling and where there wasn’t the usual spray-painted tags and obscenities, patches of filth that could’ve been shit or vomit or food or blood defiled what had once been pictures of fairies, elves and wands.

A little girl’s room?

Julia was suddenly overcome with feelings of loss and sadness.

Was it that something so pretty and innocent had been so brazenly tainted? Or was it something else, something deeper that had to do with what happened in this house?

Eyes blurry, Julia turned her back to the wall. She wiped her eyes and let out a quivering breath. “Get a grip, Jules.”

It wasn’t like her to get so emotional. She was glad Claire wasn’t around to see her blubbering over stupid wallpaper.

As she cleared the last of the tears from her eyes and stepped forward to leave the room, the light reflected off something on the floor. It wasn’t very bright, but the shimmering piqued Julia’s interest, so she wandered over to the other side of the room and crouched down to investigate. Underneath a film of brown dust was a photograph. She gripped one end and shook off the dust, coughing as particles entered her lungs.

Brilliant Jules. Just brilliant .

She wiped the rest of the dirt off on her sleeve then directed the flashlight at her discovery.

The small photo was of a family: a man and woman, both young and attractive, a boy of around ten and a black spaniel sitting beside the boy. They were standing in front of a white weatherboard house with large leafy trees flanking them. A typically modern, upper-class suburban family. Julia turned the photo over, but there was nothing on the back to identify them. The photo was, however, severely creased down the middle, so both the dad and dog had white lines running the length of their bodies. It looked as though whoever owned the photo had kept it folded over for a long time.

What’s a photo like this doing in here?

A photo of a young teenager, dropped by one of the many horny trespassers she could understand, but a photo like this seemed out of place.

A noise from behind made her jump. She whirled around and shone the light into Claire’s face. “You scared me.”

“Sorry,” Claire said, shielding her eyes from the glare. “I got nervous waiting outside all by myself. Can you shine that flashlight away from me please?”

Julia dropped the light to Claire’s stomach. “Well I’m all done here. We can go.”

“Thank God. This house…”

“I know it gives you the creeps. I admit, it’s starting to give me the willies too.”

Claire looked past Julia and scanned the room. Her expression changed from disgust to astonishment in a matter of seconds. “You know, I think this is where they found her. I think this is the room where it happened.”

“Where what happened?”

Claire sighed and dropped her shoulders. “What else, the little girl. Amanda Waters.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I think I remember reading something about a room with fairies and stuff like that on the walls.”

Julia didn’t recall anything about a room with fairies, but she hadn’t read as much about the case as Claire. “Well all the more reason to get out of here.”

“I hear that, sister. What have you got there?”

Julia followed Claire’s gaze and realized she was talking about the photo. “I found it on the floor.”

“And…?”

“What?”

“Did you lose it last time you were in here fucking some college stud?”

“I just…shit, let’s just get out of here, okay? We’ll stop off at Lucky’s. I’m buying.”

“That’s the best thing I’ve heard all night.”

Julia tucked the photo into her cut-off’s right pocket then followed Claire out of the room with the fairies and elves and wands.

Julia awoke to a blindingly bright room and the temperature an already scorching ninety degrees. With eyes half-opened, she sat up and saw that she had forgotten to close the curtains. The windows were open but there wasn’t much of a breeze coming in.

“Brilliant Jules,” she muttered and then the dull throbbing she got only after a night of too many vodkas settled in. Her mouth tasted like an ashtray and her stomach felt queasy. She also needed to urinate badly, so she swung her legs over the side of the bed and hopped down. She stretched, farted and saw that her sheets looked like someone had dropped a bucket of water over them.

I’m surprised I’ve got any water left in me.

Julia frowned. The photo lay just below the damp pillow.

Was I looking at it before I fell asleep?

She didn’t recall doing so — after getting home last night she had a cool shower then went straight to bed. Then again, everything after the third vodka was hazy. Julia shrugged, plucked the photo from the bed and put it on the bedside table, then hurried into the bathroom.

She emptied her bladder, washed her hands then stepped into the shower, turning on the cold tap a lot and the hot a little.

She showered for twenty minutes then hopped out. She felt nice and cool.

I’ll be hot and sweaty again soon enough , she thought, patting her body lightly with the towel.

She didn’t mind the warm weather — but this heat wave was too much. She had planned on doing some writing today, but always found it hard to concentrate when the mercury was up so high.

Just have to write nude and keep plenty of…

There was a tiny mark just above her left breast. It was faint, like a smudge of dirt. She rubbed it, but the mark didn’t come off.

Damn dirty house , she thought, thinking back to last night. She dabbed some soap on the towel and rubbed her skin even harder, but it still wouldn’t come off.

“Great,” she said, the smudge now surrounded by a red hue.

It looked like her body had decided to bestow her with a nice new blemish. It seemed so out of place. Her body was tanned, smooth and tight in all the right places — not bad for a woman approaching forty.

Probably a bruise , she told herself as she hung the damp towel on the rack.

She left the bathroom and entered the kitchen where she prepared a bowl of fruit and some coffee — even if she was living in the fiery depths of Hell she would still need her morning fix.

Heat be damned , she thought and continued with her breakfast.

It was impossible. She just couldn’t concentrate. The funny thing was, it wasn’t the heat that was the problem, nor the hangover.