PADS #4

An odd sensation whelmed within Wyse. It was not however, the sense of fear and foreboding which others might experience when faced with the unknown, rather it was the realisation this may at last be what he had been preparing for his entire life, his true calling.

Hope welled from within him and an excited flush which he had not experienced since his youth started to creep from his cheeks towards his brow.

‘Dead! Murdered! My friend,’ repeated the man.

            It was Wyse thought, an excellent opportunity for Elms to demonstrate what he had learnt in the past few months.

‘Right Elms, lead on.’

Unfortunately, Elms seemed to have completely forgotten the most basic lessons and remained steadfast next to him.

‘Carry on, please,’ said Wyse to the friend from the comfort of the bottom step.

Satisfied with this simple command the man nodded and shuffled back into the house.

‘Do hurry up, Elms,’ Wyse whispered, gently nudging Elms in the back, ‘I am after all the senior, and my expertise requires taking observations from an objective view point.’

‘Yes, I’ve noticed that,’ said Elms accepting the inevitable and tentatively made his way into the house.

Oak beams crossed the exposed ceiling above them and the stale air sought to escape into the night before the door closed. Wyse flicked the hallway light switch and although a light appeared from upstairs, there was no success with additional lighting downstairs.

‘No electricity.’ said the silhouetted friend without turning back towards them holding the candle high in the air.

Before Wyse could point out the implausibility of this statement the friend ignored the incongruous wrought iron spiral staircase leading to the light and they were led on a mysterious tour of every room with no explanation. Expectation rose high every time a door was opened, only to be dashed with disappointment and a certain amount of mounting weariness. Apart from the picture frames hanging on the walls waiting in vain to fulfil their purpose, the house was completely empty.

‘Do find out where the body is?’ said Wyse from a respectable distance, ‘we must find out what is going on?’

            ‘Yes,’ muttered Elms, ‘I’ll just ask him where he put his victim, might as well get it over and done with, no point dragging out our murders too.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous Elms. Why would he want to harm us?’

‘Oh, I don’t know, the fact we’re the only one’s here maybe? He hasn’t said anything about who the killer is. After all when he is brought to justice he will just say, ‘they didn’t ask if I was the killer’ and everyone will say, ‘well that’s their fault then, what were they thinking following a monster into such a house of horrors.’

‘I admit it is somewhat peculiar...’

‘There’s no television. I mean, not a wide screen plasma or anything like that but nothing. Not even a black and white,’ looking at Wyse he quickly continued, ‘not that it means anything. I mean a lot of people don’t have televisions, doesn’t mean they’re psychopaths does it?’

‘Television is not the be all and end all of civilisation. Now do keep up with the man.’

Having no other options Elms entered the next room and abruptly stopped, ‘Yes, it’s beautiful, er, Mr. Wyse do you want to have a look?’

‘I can see perfectly well from here thank you Elms,’ said Wyse impeding the retreating Elms.

Peering over his shoulder, Wyse could see the gentleman was holding a large mirror and supporting it on an antiquated cooker. It was decorated with numerous empty light bulb sockets and like the rest of the house was immaculately clean. A single chair and an ornate dressing table contained the obligatory cutlery and solitary radio.

The gentle hum of static filled the air as Elms stood still. Shaking his head Wyse took a deep breath and prepared to ask his first question.  

‘May I...’ started Wyse when suddenly the friend turned towards him.