A short story by Lynn Ann Lobo

WEB OF TREACHERY

Like a seaman searching for land, Seth McKenzie an adherent gambler searched for means by which he could ante up his debts. It was an affable day. The emerald leaves gleamed brilliantly against the clear cloudless blue sky making the influx of spring apparent. He squinted against the glare as the bright sun shone on his face. His recent endeavors had eclipsed the advent of this congenial season and suddenly the qualms of his deeds had taken precedence above the pleasant spring. Seth McKenzie had staked his earnings and belongings and was now totally insolvent plus he had borrowed huge sums of money from the gambling den goons and had to repay them as well. The fear of facing their wrath loomed large in front of him and in order to obtain an immediate solution, anguished, he scurried off across to the lodge that was situated in proximity to the river banks. Seth McKenzie was relatively aware of the response he was on the brink of receiving, but the nature of the circumstances left him no other alternative.

A certain Mr. Travis Adams was in deep slumber when a sudden persistent knocking awoke him from his deep snooze. Uncertain of whom this unexpected visitor was, he hazily walked down the old cottage stairway towards the door only to find his friend Seth agitated and distraught.   Although they were roughly the same age, Seth McKenzie’s pleasant face wore the look of a man weighed with quandary. His burly, balding and aging features faded in contrast to Travis Adams lean, slender and sound posture. Although at first glance Travis came across as a polished and distinguished man, his means and methods of earning the big bucks said otherwise. After carefully listening to Seth’s dilemma, Travis could think of just one immediate solution and suggested it to Seth. “Steal why don’t cha!  Gamble your way out of this mate, a little fleece won’t does nobody no harm aye… it’s like a little white lie” he said with a speck of greed and selfish drive in his expression. Although an insurance agent for the town residents, Travis could not find the money to fund his needs and luxuries therefore bearing his own self-seeking benefits in mind he suggested the gambler to gamble his way out via conning an average townsman.

The ice cubes in the whisky laden glasses rattled as Travis and Seth engaged in a taut colloquy. Seth McKenzie could sense his heart pulsate as the conversation intensified further. The azure sky swiftly transformed into shades of auburn and ginger at the crack of dusk. The strategy was set, Miss Brie-Ann Jones, a wealthy middle aged local and Travis’s client by far seemed to be an apt target. She had no immediate family and had made out an insurance policy to a far off relative. The lady was recognized as an introvert who barely mingled much with the rest of the townsmen. Her cottage stood bleakly on the corner of the lane. Although a loner, she stepped out just once a week on Sunday evenings to pay visit to the local church after which she lingered around to engage in a little game of housie. Miss Jones would return relatively not a minute before 9 pm.   Her fancy ornaments were gossiped more about than her curious persona.    It was clear now; Seth McKenzie would break in after the church bell chimed at 7 pm on Sunday. Since most of the people would be attending the service, the streets were bound to be desolate.

Sporting a shady, black attire so as to blend with the dark surrounding and go unnoticed prowling around, Seth McKenzie anxiously sneaked into Miss Jones’s cottage equipped with the appropriate tools. The back gate creaked open as Seth McKenzie made his way into the backyard. A cold chill ran down his spine as he camouflaged his way in the dark. The old cottage was uncomplicated to break into. The curtains swaying in the light breeze added to his already quivering frame. The shadows from the tress added to the eerie tone of the dark house. The mistiness spooked him.   He tried to keep his attention focused on his task. He started upstairs with the bedroom.   Surrounded by oak cabinets with a single bed in the centre and a huge dresser, Miss Jones’s bedroom was an uncluttered sanctuary.   On the dresser stood no pictures of family or friends making her solitary life evident. With the silver moon imparting adequate light through the dark clouds, Seth began rummaging through all her possessions. He moved guardedly around the room ensuring he left no part unchecked. A nondescript box at the bottom of the dresser drawer caught his attention. On opening the box to his delight he stumbled on expensive ornaments and quite a handful of cash neatly stacked. He found quite a haul but was skeptical the loot would pass muster. He then decided to proceed downstairs to check for valuable objects that could be sold for a reasonably profitable price. The kitchen seemed like an appropriate target as it could probably hold pricey crockery and china.

As light footed as possible, Seth McKenzie discreetly made his way to the kitchen creeping on his tip-toes. His conscience triggered off a bizarre whirling sensation in his abdomen. But Seth was obstinate regarding his task. This was no time to let the generic credo of moral code to avert his focus. “It’s like a little white lie”, Travis Adam’s words kept recurring and echoing in his head. Eschewing the distracting thoughts, Seth McKenzie decided to continue. The kitchen had a snug air to it. Its timber flooring, antique cabinets and jade plants gave it a pseudo- sylvan tenor. Expeditiously he started opening all the cabinets and drawers and began cramming up the valuable cutlery into his rucksack.   An inexplicable, vague stench filled his nostrils and for a split second distracted him and stopped him in his tracks. Seth decided to ignore the woozy reek and continued on with the hauling.   His anxiety was swapped over with feelings of exhilaration and avarice. The thought of having filched loot that he could pawn off later for a relatively satisfactory sum of money made the immoral, malicious characteristic in him take control.

A sudden electronic, robotic voice alarmed Seth right when he was done filling up his haversack. “It is 20:30 hrs, it is 20:30 hrs” monotonously chimed the kitchen clock. He breathed a sigh of relief after his heart skipped what seemed like a hundred heart beats and knowing that the loot would suffice, Seth decided to make a quick getaway. The resonant hunger pangs struck a chord and reminded him about a trip to the grocers. “The grocery store would have shut down by the time I got out of here, I can’t been seen prancing the streets buying groceries with a satchel full of loot in hand”  thought Seth. “I might as well just pick a leg of lamb or meat from the freezer, I’ve pilfered enough already, what loss could a little missing meat do the lady” mumbled Seth. As he moved towards the freezer the quaint reek in the air got stronger. The moment he lifted open the freezer door, a cold puff of air and unpleasant odor clouded his face and distorted his vision. When the fog settled and Seth McKenzie regained his sight and composure his body went numb with the shock of what lay in front of him.   He stood benumbed, stunned, with his jaw dropped wide open, his heart throbbing faster than ever. In the freezer lay the corpse of Miss Brie-Ann Jones. Seth McKenzie was so intensely jolted by disbelief he couldn’t feel his body. After the ‘bolt from the blue’ had sunk in, he took a closer look at the body. It was Miss Jones alright. The petite framed lady, with a pale tone to her skin and russet colored curls now lay lifeless in her own freezer.   “how. . h-h-h-ow… whe-when and who could have, but I was here all the while… She left for the service…. ”  Seth’s mind was congested with a great deal of questions when suddenly he noticed certain plum colored marks around her neck. It was clear Brie-Ann Jones had fallen prey to cold-blooded murder. “But who could have committed this gruesome crime, and when” questioned Seth. When he realized he had no time for questions and answers, “Run Seth, run” he thought to himself, “The cops are not an option, your presence in this house will not only be questioned but you will become one their prime suspects, perhaps they will just incriminate you for the felony, flee away from the house before you get apprehended for murdering the lady”.

As Seth pulled himself together and headed towards the main door, he heard the sound of a key turning the lock. He wanted to run but it was too late, the intruder had opened the door and snapped the lights on. If Seth McKenzie thought stumbling on Miss Brie-Ann’s carcass was all the turmoil he could have for one evening, the subsequent minutes would most certainly avow otherwise. Standing in front of him at the main door, with an equally traumatized expression, in flesh and blood was Miss Brie-Ann Jones herself. Their eyes were transfixed on each other. For a minute Seth felt like he was having an ‘out of body’ experience. It was as though his life had derailed out of control in a jiffy. Before Seth could absorb the situation and comprehend what was happening, Miss Brie-Ann grabbed hold of the coat rack and took a swing at Seth McKenzie’s head, knocking him unconscious.

When Seth McKenzie regained consciousness 15 minutes after being knocked on the head, at first all he could see was a hazy blur. The preceding events were a faint reminiscence and as he began summoning his thoughts, he recouped his trail of thoughts and actions. The soreness of the blow on his head stung him. He glanced up and saw Miss Brie-Ann standing, trembling in front of him. Just when he decided to plead guilty to her only for robbing her possessions, he saw the cops’ squad entering the cottage. The next thing he knew he was being handcuffed by inspector J. D Morgan and was dragged out of the cottage by the cops. Dazed and shattered by the trauma and hysteria of the recent events, he began to shriek “I did not kill her… Brie-Ann, I did not murder her, I’m innocent inspector I didn’t do it”. On hearing this, inspector Morgan replied “yes, we know you did not kill her, you are being charged with theft”. “But I, I…” began explaining Seth but was interrupted by inspector Morgan, “you robbed her house here Mr. and that sir is a crime you are going to have to pay for” said the inspector in his callous tone. As Miss Brie-Ann stood speaking to one of the sub-inspectors, submitting her report and ensuring that all the missing objects were found in Seth’s satchel, Seth McKenzie stared at her in utter fright and distress. Devastated, he looked as though someone or something seized the living day lights out of him. Seth McKenzie began questioning his sanity. Could he be mistaken? Was he so delirious that he hallucinated the corpse of someone who was actually alive? Or did Miss Brie-Ann bizarrely spring out of the dead only to stand in front of him and have him question his senses. Seth McKenzie felt nauseous, the conspiracy and controversy of the evening made him feel like a helpless insect caught in a web of treachery. He thought it best to leave all this behind and focus on getting out of the current pickle he was in. As the police car veered away, Miss Brie-Ann silently pushed her front door shut.

On a certain spring evening, somewhere towards the dinner hour Miss Brie-Ann sat tranquilly at her mirror undergoing the process of having her hair built up into an elaborate reflection of the prevailing fashion. She was hedged round with a great peace, the peace of one who has attained a desired end with much effort and perseverance.

Brie-Ann Jones hummed as she waltzed her way down the stairs into the kitchen. With a sly smile on her face and vile glint in her eyes she headed towards the freezer. On opening the freezer door she bitterly stared at the corpse sleeping blue in the freezer. As the cool breeze blew down the streets of the lane, somewhere in an old cottage a felony was committed and had gone unnoticed. The criminal lurked in the cottage and tossed around here and there gathering means to veil its crime. A corpse was being dragged into the backyard in a gunny bag. A six feet deep, well dug hole lay open in the backyard. Miss Brie-Ann’s body was now being shunned into the grave dug for her.   At the top of the grave stood a devious and shrewd cold blooded murderer looking down at the corpse. The murderer was none another than Miss Brie-Ann’s mentally challenged twin brother, Bryan Jones. With barely a speck of difference between their appearances, evil clone stood smiling down at his sister’s corpse with a nasty look of wickedness in his eyes. “I hope you are enjoying being dead dear sister, hahahahahahahahaaha…”smirked Bryan Jones with an unpleasant tone to his voice. ” “All my life, I’ve had you steal the limelight from me, mentally challenged they called me, the weaker of the two, whose the weak one now ha… answer me” barked Bryan Jones with a great deal of fury in his voice. “They sent me away, to the asylum, said I was in dire need of medical help, while you sat home with mommy and daddy being the valued child; from attention and love right to our family riches, it was all bestowed on dear Brie-Ann” said Bryan arrogantly. “You thought I had returned to make peace and turn a new leaf, to acquire financial aid from you, little did you know my intentions. You fool; I broke out of the asylum, somewhere in the countryside they’re looking for a “run-away” psychotic, hahahahahahahahaa, now Bryan Joneses identity will be concealed under the façade of his late sister forever. Now with you, I bury my secret. We shall both rest in peace… you six feet under and me, in this house that belongs to me and me alone. I’ll steal your home, your life, your identity”.

Bryan Jones climbed up the stairway to the bathroom and took off his russet colored curly haired wig, washed the make-up off his face and changed into his robe and headed towards the bed. The evil, psychologically challenged, conniving twin lay on the bed laughing malevolently at the web of treachery he weaved for Brie-Ann and from now on the townsmen. As he closed his eyes to enjoy a little siesta, he recollected the images of how he strangled her to death with the aid of a simple rope. How she struggled during her last hours, how that prospect put off the fervent inferno of vengeance aflame in him for years. “When her body has decayed, I shall leave this town and relocate to a distant town elsewhere and till that day comes, I shall continue to wear Brie-Ann’s masquerade at day and continue to be myself at night. ” schemed Bryan. “May your soul rest in peace sister, hahahaha” he viciously chuckled. Tranquilly, he looked out the bedroom window staring at the night sky and the full moon shining bright behind the tress. Somewhere in a local prison trapped in a concrete cell, a remorseful and humiliated Seth McKenzie stared at the silver moon through the prison cell opening waiting in anticipation of a new dawn and a better tomorrow.

 

 

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