Read Online Killer by Stephen Carpenter - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Stephen Carpenter
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hall. No bears in the living room. I peer out the window at the trash containers outside. Sealed shut and upright. No animals. I look at the clock on the fireplace mantle: 4:45. I debate putting on coffee and starting work, but I’m still too tired. I head back to bed and I’m about to put the gun back in the bookcase when the floorboard under my foot pops loudly.
That was it.
That was the sound that woke me. No question. I stand there for a moment.
Relax. The cabin was freezing. You turned the furnace on and the floorboards expanded with the heat and made a noise. Nothing mysterious.
Thank you, Mr. Science.
I half-smile at myself and decide to forget about it. I head back to bed, but stick the gun under the mattress where I can reach it. Just in case.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Six hours later I wake from a series of disconnected dreams. I sense there was something important about them so I try to remember but the harder I chase them the faster they slip away.
I get up, see that it’s almost eleven, and go make coffee. Frost covers the cabin windows. I can see only that it’s dim and gray outside. I turn the phones on and check the voicemail. Nicki Feldman’s office has called twice. I call her back and leave a message, then hang up and pull a large Circulon skillet from the cabinet beneath the phone. I turn the flame on low under the skillet, then drop a dollop of butter into it. As the butter melts, I crack four eggs into the skillet, splash in a little milk, and sprinkle in some shaved cheddar cheese. I turn the heat up and scramble the eggs while they cook.
Sara had disdained my scrambled eggs method, although she liked the results. She thought I should mix the eggs and milk in a bowl, then dump the contents into a pre-heated skillet. We had an old Teflon skillet which had begun to peel, and she didn’t like the idea of the eggs sloshing around in it too long, absorbing exotic polymers. She was probably right.
“I just like doing it this way,” I say as I stir the eggs, which are beginning to form tiny islands of solid mass in the Circulon skillet.
When I moved to the cabin, after I had bought my hardware, I had everything for the outside of the cabin, but the inside was as empty as a church on Saturday night. I didn’t even have a fork. So I drove to Burlington, went to Macy’s at the mall, and at the housewares desk I found a young man tying a ribbon on a box for a woman. He had neat, short brown hair, with a cowlick that was faintly frosted blonde. He wore a pale blue Brooks Brothers shirt, dark wool slacks, and black Kenneth Cole loafers. His socks and belt were exactly the same shade of dark cerulean. He finished the ribbon and turned to me.
“Hi, I just moved here and I need some things,” I said, and handed him a two-page list of items on yellow legal paper. He stared at the list. His nametag said “Jonathan.”
“You need all this?” he said, his eyebrows raised.
“Yes,” I said. “Do you carry all of it?”
“I’m pretty sure we do…” Jonathan said, scanning the list. “I’ll have to check furnishings for the bed and the sofa and the rugs. They’ll have to be delivered if they’re not in stock.”
“That’s fine.”
“Okay, well…guess we’d better get started,” Jonathan said, then came around from behind he cash register.
“If you don’t mind, you can go ahead and pick it all out and ring it up. I’ll be in electronics,” I said.
Jonathan blinked at me. “You want me to pick out all your stuff?”
“If that’s okay.”
“It’s fine with me, but what if I pick out something you don’t like?”
“I’m sure whatever you pick out will be fine. It’s a pine cabin. The floors and walls are pine, with a medium brown finish. The kitchen is modern with stainless steel appliances and brown granite countertops. The bathroom tile is white with navy trim.”
“What about price?”
“Just use your best judgment. I’ll be back in a couple of
That was it.
That was the sound that woke me. No question. I stand there for a moment.
Relax. The cabin was freezing. You turned the furnace on and the floorboards expanded with the heat and made a noise. Nothing mysterious.
Thank you, Mr. Science.
I half-smile at myself and decide to forget about it. I head back to bed, but stick the gun under the mattress where I can reach it. Just in case.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Six hours later I wake from a series of disconnected dreams. I sense there was something important about them so I try to remember but the harder I chase them the faster they slip away.
I get up, see that it’s almost eleven, and go make coffee. Frost covers the cabin windows. I can see only that it’s dim and gray outside. I turn the phones on and check the voicemail. Nicki Feldman’s office has called twice. I call her back and leave a message, then hang up and pull a large Circulon skillet from the cabinet beneath the phone. I turn the flame on low under the skillet, then drop a dollop of butter into it. As the butter melts, I crack four eggs into the skillet, splash in a little milk, and sprinkle in some shaved cheddar cheese. I turn the heat up and scramble the eggs while they cook.
Sara had disdained my scrambled eggs method, although she liked the results. She thought I should mix the eggs and milk in a bowl, then dump the contents into a pre-heated skillet. We had an old Teflon skillet which had begun to peel, and she didn’t like the idea of the eggs sloshing around in it too long, absorbing exotic polymers. She was probably right.
“I just like doing it this way,” I say as I stir the eggs, which are beginning to form tiny islands of solid mass in the Circulon skillet.
When I moved to the cabin, after I had bought my hardware, I had everything for the outside of the cabin, but the inside was as empty as a church on Saturday night. I didn’t even have a fork. So I drove to Burlington, went to Macy’s at the mall, and at the housewares desk I found a young man tying a ribbon on a box for a woman. He had neat, short brown hair, with a cowlick that was faintly frosted blonde. He wore a pale blue Brooks Brothers shirt, dark wool slacks, and black Kenneth Cole loafers. His socks and belt were exactly the same shade of dark cerulean. He finished the ribbon and turned to me.
“Hi, I just moved here and I need some things,” I said, and handed him a two-page list of items on yellow legal paper. He stared at the list. His nametag said “Jonathan.”
“You need all this?” he said, his eyebrows raised.
“Yes,” I said. “Do you carry all of it?”
“I’m pretty sure we do…” Jonathan said, scanning the list. “I’ll have to check furnishings for the bed and the sofa and the rugs. They’ll have to be delivered if they’re not in stock.”
“That’s fine.”
“Okay, well…guess we’d better get started,” Jonathan said, then came around from behind he cash register.
“If you don’t mind, you can go ahead and pick it all out and ring it up. I’ll be in electronics,” I said.
Jonathan blinked at me. “You want me to pick out all your stuff?”
“If that’s okay.”
“It’s fine with me, but what if I pick out something you don’t like?”
“I’m sure whatever you pick out will be fine. It’s a pine cabin. The floors and walls are pine, with a medium brown finish. The kitchen is modern with stainless steel appliances and brown granite countertops. The bathroom tile is white with navy trim.”
“What about price?”
“Just use your best judgment. I’ll be back in a couple of
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