sides. This one had also been solved, and the stickers appeared intact.
I left the den and found the door to the basement. It was small, unfinished. The floor was bare concrete, and a florescent lamp attached to an overhead beam provided adequate light. A utility sink sat in a corner, next to a washer and dryer. On the other side was a workbench, clean and tidy. The drawers contained the average assortment of hand tools; wrenches, hammers, screwdrivers, saws, chisels. Atop the workbench was an electric reciprocating saw that looked practically new.
A closet was tucked away in the corner. Inside I found an old volleyball net, a large roll of carpet padding, a croquet set, some scraps of decorative trim, and half a can of blue paint. Also, hanging on a makeshift rack, were three badminton rackets, an extra-large super-soaker squirt gun, and a plastic lawn chair.
After snooping until there was nothing left to snoop, I met Herb back in the living room.
“Find anything?” Herb asked.
I described through my search, ending with the Swedish Fish.
“That was the only food?” Herb asked.
“Seems to be.”
“Are we taking it as evidence?”
“I’m not sure yet. Why?”
“I love Swedish Fish.”
“If I poured chocolate syrup on the corpse, would you eat that too?”
“You found chocolate syrup?”
I switched gears. “You figure out the note?”
Herb smiled. “Yeah. Funny how the note is perfectly clean when everything around it, and behind it, is soaked in blood.”
“Find anything else?”
“I tossed the bedrooms upstairs, found some basics; clothes, shoes, linen. Bathroom contained bathroom stuff; towels, toiletries, a lot of puzzle magazines. Another bookshelf—non-fiction this time. Some prescription meds in the cabinet.” Benedict checked his pad. “Diflucan, Abarelix, Taxotere, and Docetexel.”
“Cancer drugs,” Phil Blasky said. He held Wyatt’s right arm. “That explains this plastic catheter implanted in his vein and this rash on his neck. This man has been on long term chemotherapy.”
A picture began to form in my head, but I didn’t have all the pieces yet.
“Herb, did you find any religious paraphernalia? Bibles, crucifixes, prayer books, things like that?”
“No. There were some books upstairs, but mostly philosophy and logic puzzles. In fact, there was a whole shelf dedicated to Free-Thinking.”
“As opposed to thinking that costs money?”
“That’s a term atheists use.”
Curiouser and curiouser.
“I found receipts for a new stereo and camcorder. Were they upstairs?” I asked.
“The stereo was, set-up in the bedroom next to that big bay window. I didn’t see any camcorders.”
“Let me see that note again.”
The suicide letter had been placed in a clear plastic bag. I read it twice, then had to laugh. “Quite a few religious references for a Free-Thinker.”
“If he was dying of cancer, maybe he found God.”
“Or maybe he found a way to die on his terms.”
“Meaning?”
“The terms of a man who loved mysteries, games, and puzzles. Look at the first letter of each sentence.”
Herb read silently, his lips moving. “ G-E-T-A-C-L-U-E . Cute. You know, I became a cop because it required very little lateral thinking.”
“I thought it was because vendors gave you free donuts.”
“Shhh. Hold on…I’m forming a hypothesis.”
“I’ll alert the media.”
Phil Blasky snorted. “You guys have a drink minimum for this show?”
Herb ignored us. “Wyatt obviously had some help, because the note was placed on top of the blood. But was his help in the form of assisted suicide? Or murder?”
“It doesn’t matter to us—they’re treated the same way.”
“Exactly. So if this is a game for us to figure out, and the clues have been staged, will the clues lead us to what really happened, or to what Wyatt or the killer would like us to believe really happened?”
The word ‘game’ made me remember the cabinet in the den. I returned to it,
I left the den and found the door to the basement. It was small, unfinished. The floor was bare concrete, and a florescent lamp attached to an overhead beam provided adequate light. A utility sink sat in a corner, next to a washer and dryer. On the other side was a workbench, clean and tidy. The drawers contained the average assortment of hand tools; wrenches, hammers, screwdrivers, saws, chisels. Atop the workbench was an electric reciprocating saw that looked practically new.
A closet was tucked away in the corner. Inside I found an old volleyball net, a large roll of carpet padding, a croquet set, some scraps of decorative trim, and half a can of blue paint. Also, hanging on a makeshift rack, were three badminton rackets, an extra-large super-soaker squirt gun, and a plastic lawn chair.
After snooping until there was nothing left to snoop, I met Herb back in the living room.
“Find anything?” Herb asked.
I described through my search, ending with the Swedish Fish.
“That was the only food?” Herb asked.
“Seems to be.”
“Are we taking it as evidence?”
“I’m not sure yet. Why?”
“I love Swedish Fish.”
“If I poured chocolate syrup on the corpse, would you eat that too?”
“You found chocolate syrup?”
I switched gears. “You figure out the note?”
Herb smiled. “Yeah. Funny how the note is perfectly clean when everything around it, and behind it, is soaked in blood.”
“Find anything else?”
“I tossed the bedrooms upstairs, found some basics; clothes, shoes, linen. Bathroom contained bathroom stuff; towels, toiletries, a lot of puzzle magazines. Another bookshelf—non-fiction this time. Some prescription meds in the cabinet.” Benedict checked his pad. “Diflucan, Abarelix, Taxotere, and Docetexel.”
“Cancer drugs,” Phil Blasky said. He held Wyatt’s right arm. “That explains this plastic catheter implanted in his vein and this rash on his neck. This man has been on long term chemotherapy.”
A picture began to form in my head, but I didn’t have all the pieces yet.
“Herb, did you find any religious paraphernalia? Bibles, crucifixes, prayer books, things like that?”
“No. There were some books upstairs, but mostly philosophy and logic puzzles. In fact, there was a whole shelf dedicated to Free-Thinking.”
“As opposed to thinking that costs money?”
“That’s a term atheists use.”
Curiouser and curiouser.
“I found receipts for a new stereo and camcorder. Were they upstairs?” I asked.
“The stereo was, set-up in the bedroom next to that big bay window. I didn’t see any camcorders.”
“Let me see that note again.”
The suicide letter had been placed in a clear plastic bag. I read it twice, then had to laugh. “Quite a few religious references for a Free-Thinker.”
“If he was dying of cancer, maybe he found God.”
“Or maybe he found a way to die on his terms.”
“Meaning?”
“The terms of a man who loved mysteries, games, and puzzles. Look at the first letter of each sentence.”
Herb read silently, his lips moving. “ G-E-T-A-C-L-U-E . Cute. You know, I became a cop because it required very little lateral thinking.”
“I thought it was because vendors gave you free donuts.”
“Shhh. Hold on…I’m forming a hypothesis.”
“I’ll alert the media.”
Phil Blasky snorted. “You guys have a drink minimum for this show?”
Herb ignored us. “Wyatt obviously had some help, because the note was placed on top of the blood. But was his help in the form of assisted suicide? Or murder?”
“It doesn’t matter to us—they’re treated the same way.”
“Exactly. So if this is a game for us to figure out, and the clues have been staged, will the clues lead us to what really happened, or to what Wyatt or the killer would like us to believe really happened?”
The word ‘game’ made me remember the cabinet in the den. I returned to it,
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