Free Suicide Serial by Matthew Boyd Page A

of him was an intricately carved wooden chessboard.
     
    On one side of the chessboard were all of the black pieces, identical in every way to the ones found at every suicide except for their color. Some of the black pieces had been moved to different positions and were lying down, as if defeated. Only the king and a bishop remained upright. The white pieces were missing.
     
    Jake walked over to the body, covering his mouth and nose with one hand to mask the smell. A piece of paper shuffled under his feet as he walked closer. Jake looked down at the paper and saw that it was a simple handwritten note. The handwriting was identical to what had been found on the scrawled note at the pastor’s house. He bent over and picked it up, giving it a quick read.
     
    “ He was the first pawn. Finally I am free.”
     
    Jake resisted the urge to ball up the note and throw it aside. Instead, he flattened it out on the desk and left it there. On the floor underneath the desk chair another white pawn chess piece which rested on its side. He bent over and picked it up with a gloved hand. There appeared to be a bit of dried blood spatter on it, but nothing else. Jake and Stacey walked around the study to search for more evidence.
     
    The room was very large, and there were enough books to fill a small library. Fredrich Engel had collected large volumes on literature, history, and psychology. He had a prominent assortment of texts on chess and all the various elements of logic and game theory. Some of the books had been written by him, as well.
     
    The detectives exited the room and explored the rest of the house. A large television had been smashed to pieces in the living room. Glass fragments had scattered all over the hardwood floor and furniture. Other than the destroyed television, there was nothing else interesting about the room. The bedrooms appeared completely normal, tidy, and untouched. Nothing was out of place. The beds were properly made, closets were organized, and no traces of blood or violence apparent.
     
    On a dresser in one of the bedrooms was a slightly faded, framed photograph of Fredrich, Henry, and another woman that Stacey identified as “Katherine”, the matriarch of the family. All three were smiling and seemed happy. Henry looked to be about 2 or 3 years old. Someone had used a permanent marker to place big X’s on the faces of the parents.
     
    Jake and Stacey made their way to a wooden door at the end of the hallway. The floors of the hallway were dirty, like someone had walked outside and tracked in mud. The door was partially hanging off its hinges and had multiple deadbolt locks and an iron bar that could be lowered in place to prevent anyone in the basement from getting out. It had been opened and cleared by SWAT, but the darkness that led into the basement still evoked a natural fear in both of the detectives.
     
    Jake flicked the light switch on the wall and instantly the darkness was dimly illuminated. The faint odor of excrement and urine wafted up the stairs and filled their nostrils. It was almost as vile as the smell of the office and the rotting corpse of Fredrich Engel. They carefully descended the stairs and made their way into the large basement area. The floor was not finished, and other than the small tile landing at the base of the stairs, it was totally dirt or mud.
     
    The small overhead lights did little to uncover the farthest corners of the basement, but easily revealed a central area that appeared to be Henry’s living space. A completely worn-out and dirty couch with a few stained pillows rested in the very middle. Filthy sheets and clothing had been piled up on the floor. Food wrappers, Styrofoam cups, and assorted trash were strewn about the entire basement. A small table held a few books on chess and a horror novel that looked like it had been read hundreds of times. A larger metal table behind the sofa held a wide range of scattered wires, electronic circuit boards and