Free The Hunt Chronicles: Volume 1 by Leo Bonanno Page B

nails.  Watcha got under there; Skin? Blood?”   I heard the phone
jostle in the nerdy man’s hands.  Paper was rustling.  The young
man’s breathing started to hasten under the pressure.
    “Well, that was
relatively easy.  There was nothing under his nails.”  I went
blank.  I was prepared for something, I just didn’t know what.
    “What do you mean , nothin ’?”
    “I mean nothing ,
Detective.  Nada, zip, zilch.   Nothing of interest anyway.   No blood, no skin other than his own , no loose threads or fibers.  Just the
usual nail gunk, dirt and etcetera.”
    “But wouldn’t the
man have tried to fight his attacker?  Claw and scratch?”
    “We both know the
answer to that question.”  I assumed the answer was yes.  “Mr.
McCune’s muscle mass in his arms is almost nonexistent.  Besides flipping
someone the bird, this guy couldn’t fight off a kitten.”  Some more pages
rustled as I sighed heavily.  “Oh, but there is one thing…”
    “What?”
    “Frankly, I’m
surprised your guy at the scene missed it.”
    “What?  Missed
what?”
    “He must have
thought that the nails would have given you guys a cut and dry case.”
    “What the hell did
he miss, pencil neck?”
    “Oh,
sorry, sorry.   Well I noticed
it when they wheeled him in.  Mr. McCune suffered hemorrhages around his
eyes.  You see, that happens when-” and I faded out to somewhere
else.  My mind floated back in time to the last time I was in Wilson’s
room.
    Okay, the
examiner is sitting on the bed, picking at Wilson’s fingers.  Check. 
The window is opened and Wilson’s chair is under it.  Check.  The pill and the glass.   The wet
spot.   The dresser.   The open drawers.   The clock.  
I’m sitting on the edge of the bed now.  I can feel the aura of his dead
body behind me.  I’m staring at Wilson.  I’m in bed with a dead
man.  I’m in bed with a dead man.  I’m in bed and
    “Oh my God, you’re
right.”
    “What? 
Hello?  Who is this?  Where is Detective Walters?”  The jig
is up Little Reevan screamed, rattling my brain from the inside.  You
slipped out of character.  You would’ve been kicked out of drama club for
that…if you were in drama club.   I had to think fast.  What to
say…what to do…I couldn’t hang up, could I?  He’d know it was all a
scam.  What to say…what to say…in the name of Yosemite and Foghorn and
Bugs and all that the Warner Brothers stood for, what was I to say?
    “That’s all,
folks!”  I blurted in a panic, slamming down the phone.  My heart was
pounding.  Though fear enveloped my body, I distinctly remember a smile
pulling at the corners of my mouth.  Hemorrhaging
around the eyes .   That meant something.  I had seen it
that morning in McCune’s room, but I was too creeped out to let it register.  I had two more calls to make.  The first was
to the Wellington Courthouse. The second was to Detective Walters.
     
    “Well, what did he
say?”  Maddie was jumping up and down like a
teenager at a rock concert.  “Well?”
    “He said no.”
    “No?”
    “No.”
    “Not a one?”
    “Not a single one.”
    “Not
a single what?”   Nona
asked.  Maddie and I were sitting in the dining
room while listened from the kitchen.  She had crept up on us by then and
made us both jump.  Someone put a bell around her chubby neck .
    “None of the others
are suspects,” Maddie said.
    “How can that
be?  Not a one of them?  Don’t tell me they all had alibis.”
    “Well, oddly enough,
yes, they all did.  Apparently yesterday was a stableman’s birthday and-”
    “Oh my gosh , it was Gus’ birthday?  I can’t believe
it.  How old is he now, Maddie ?  Seventy-two?   Seventy-three?  
Did you get him anything?  I can’t believe I forgot!”
    “I know,” Maddie replied.  “Seems like yesterday we were
throwing him a birthday par-”
    “Ladies,
please!”  I shouted.  They clammed up.
    “So what does Gus’
birthday have to