Side Story #1 - Colt - Page 11 (Patreon)

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Colt was a bit reluctant to simply break through the wall, as that would be difficult to conceal, but he wasn't seeing much choice in the matter. To properly investigate the crime scene, he would have to get in there somehow.

He took it slow. Instead of busting open a giant hole for himself, he started with just a small peep hole, big enough to shine his flashlight through. If there happened to be any relevant evidence near the wall, he didn't want to accidentally destroy it.

From what he could tell, however, the area looked fairly clear. He spotted some cardboard boxes and a couple old mattresses against a far wall--as well as a rather large pile of wooden planks that looked like they would serve to help conceal the hole he was making, if only a little.

Odds were, the Lagoroc cops wouldn't even bother to go through the whole house again, so he wouldn't need to worry too much about leaving evidence behind, but the possibility was still non-zero. He intended to refill the tunnel that he'd dug before leaving as well, just to to help improve his chances.

Carefully, he widened the peep into a rectangle, just barely large enough to squeeze his head and shoulders through horizontally. Then he just had to wriggle the rest of his body through. It was a tight fit, but he made it, and once he was inside, he checked to make sure that none of his clothing had torn. Didn't want to leave any fabric behind for someone to match later. In fact, he was considering burning all of the clothes he was wearing once he was done here.

He gave the basement a quick once over with his flashlight, but he didn't stay long, as he was more interested in looking at where the body was found. He ascended the stairs, mindful not to touch the wooden handrail, and searched for the living room.

He found it.

If the capital cops had followed standard procedure--or at least, Atreyan standard procedure--then everything in here should have still been exactly how they had found it, apart from any collected pieces of physical evidence and, of course, Rex's body. By now, the guy would probably in the morgue, awaiting an autopsy, if one had been ordered--which it might not have been, if these cops really were convinced that it was a suicide.

Colt took his time.

He scanned the room carefully with his flashlight, trying to take in the placement of each item, each piece of furniture and decoration.

An overturned stool. A disturbed rug. A brown couch. A coffee table full of cup stains. An unopened bottle of beer.

Hmm. Brand? Bartello.

Eugh. Utter horse piss, as Colt recalled, but then again, it had been many years since he'd last drunk any alcohol whatsoever.

What else?

A grandfather clock by the door to the kitchen. Stopped. The glass on the front was cracked.

Footprints all over the hardwood floor. Police, no doubt. They would have taken photos of the floor beforehand, along with everything else in the house. Colt doubted he would be able to get a look at any of those himself, but Boh might.

A big television. Expensive-looking. Not much dust on it. Recent purchase? Video game console on the nearby shelf. Controllers still out. Two of them. Playing with the nephew, maybe?

A painting on the wall. Weird-looking. Like a swirl of red-orange snakes around a sun. Abstract or some shit. Colt had never much cared for art, but Rex hadn't struck him as the kind of guy to care for it, either.

Colt approached the painting for a closer look. The frame was pretty ornate. Lined with silver? Hard to tell in this light. Could've just been paint. Hmm. He pulled out his pocket knife and tried to chip a tiny chunk out of it.

Wasn't coming off. Not paint. Left a tiny scratch but not enough to be noticeable normally.

Colt gripped the painting and gently pulled it off the wall. No secret safe behind it, unfortunately. That would've been nice. The gloves that he'd chosen to wear for this were not disposable ones, unfortunately, but he intended to throw them away after this, regardless. It was a shame, because he'd like to use them when driving. He could always find a new pair, though.

He checked the back of the painting's frame. No marking as far as he could tell, but he saw where it opened. He removed the back of the frame in order to inspect the back of the painting's canvas.

Ah. Writing in the bottom right corner.

To my savior, Rex:

Allow this painting to serve as a token of my eternal gratitude. ~ F. M.

Interesting. Colt wondered if the capital cops had noticed this. Probably, he figured. They knew Rex way better than he did, after all. They must have taken a photo of the note and placed it back where it was. He might've done the same now, if he wasn't worried about carrying around suspicious or incriminating evidence. For all he knew, those same cops could show up at his cabin in a couple days and search it.

And that signature? "F. M.?"

Fred Millerman? The owner of the biggest store in Orden?

It was the only name that was coming to mind, but it could just as easily belong to someone else. And the message itself was hardly evidence of foul play. Dust on the frame implied that it had been hanging there for a while, too.

Once he'd returned the painting back to its rightful framing and position, Colt decided to inspect the grandfather clock next. Specifically, he wanted to look at the cracked glass on it.

Had something bumped into it? And if so, how recently? He could see an apparent point of impact--a white crater in the glass, about the size of his palm. Could've been made by something the size of a baseball, perhaps.

Generally speaking, broken objects in the surrounding environment were indicative of a struggle having taken place, but Colt couldn't see any other objects in the living room that appeared to be damaged. And even this amount of damage wasn't exactly significant. The glass had only cracked, after all, not fully broken.

And why was the clock itself stopped? It looked pretty old, so it could just be in need of maintenance. He didn't see a cord, so it probably didn't require electricity. Seemed to be a typical pendulum clock.

Bah. Too soon to tell if it was related in any capacity, but this was how the process went. Paying attention to things that seemed off in some way and hoping to find a connection.

He decided to consult Boh for more information. 'Tell me about the evidence the cops gathered today,' he said. 'Start with the physical collections from the scene. Don't worry about the pictures, statements, or speculation yet.'

'There wasn't all that much, really,' said Bohwanox. 'Aside from the body itself, they only bagged up the pile of excrement in the middle of the room, a bit of hair, and a metal object that they found beneath the couch.'

Upon closer inspection, Colt could see the dark stain on the already-dark rug. 'The excrement was right below where Rex was hanging, I take it?'

'Yeah.'

It was good that they'd bagged it up. They'd be able to test it for common drugs. If the last thing that Rex remembered was falling asleep, then were a was chance someone had slipped him some kind of sleeping agent.

Not particularly relevant to him at the moment, however.

'Can you tell me anything else about this metal object?' Colt asked.

'It was round. Small. Kind of a fat cylinder. Didn't get the best look at it, unfortunately. I was trying to listen to Rex, at the time.'

A small, fat cylinder...

Colt was reminded of a passing thought he'd had earlier and decided to look up at the ceiling.

Eh. No holes or markings up there. Just a light fixture. He thought about finding a ladder to go up and check the light for any more clues, but he decided to hold off on that for now. 'What about this hair that they picked up? How much are we talking here?'

'A little clump. I think it might've been animal fur.'

'Where'd they find it?'

'Also beneath the couch.'

Colt eyed the massive, ugly piece of furniture another time. He scanned along its base with his flashlight, looking for any kind of tears or scuff marks--or anything, really. But he wasn't seeing much. The big brown thing seemed pretty old. He removed the cushions from it to look inside, but he didn't find anything, so he put them back.

Animal fur, huh?

'What color was the hair?' Colt asked.

'Black and brown.'

'Short?'

'Yeah.'

That sounded like it could've belonged to a certain Dantean Shepherd he'd met yesterday, but Colt supposed that wouldn't be so abnormal. Brick had probably visited this house with Rex's niece, recently.

'Hmm. How's Rex doing, by the way?'

'Not well. Can't understand him anymore. I should reap his soul soon.'

'Were you able to get anything else out of him regarding the last things he remembered?'

'Nothing earth-shattering. He'd recently taken a shower. Brushed his teeth. Put on his pajamas. Went to bed.'

'That's it?'

'That's it.'

His brow lowered as he considered that information. If the last thing Rex remembered was going to bed, then Colt figured that he had better go take a look at the bed next. On the way to locating the master bedroom, he decided to pitch another question at the reaper.

'Did he corroborate his nephew's story about being out late with friends?'

'He did. You think the kid could've done it?'

'Doubtful, if he's got an entire group of friends as an alibi.'

When he found Rex's room, he stopped in the doorway first to scan over it with his flashlight. When he saw the light switch on the wall, he almost considered flipping it before thinking better of it. A part of him was concerned that the local electric company might be able to notice usage of any extra electricity in the house.

Eh, he was probably being overly cautious, but whatever. He stuck with his flashlight as he searched the room.

The bed wasn't made. Not surprising. He did spot a couple tufts of black and brown fur on the sheets, though. Had Brick been sleeping here, too?

Again, not exactly the greatest revelation.

Colt had to suppress the urge to get frustrated. It was far too early in the investigation to start with that.

He inspected the floor around the bed more closely. Unlike the living room, this was carpeted. And they were faint, but Colt could see tracks in it.

Something pretty heavy must have been wheeled through here. The tracks went right up to the bed and extended all the way back out onto the hardwood floor of the central hallway.

Something heavy...? Like maybe a trolley weighed down by an unconscious sheriff? Or an already-dead one, perhaps?

For all he knew, this bedroom could've been the true scene of the murder.

Colt touched his chin as he thought. Things were still pretty unclear, but he was at least beginning to get an idea of the killer's methodology.

'Did they remove anything from Rex's bedroom?'

'Not that I saw, no.'

Odd. If Colt's working theory was accurate, then this location might've been even more important than the living room.

Colt decided to have a look in the adjoining bathroom.

He had to wonder if Rex had been sharing his bed with anyone. The bathroom sink was often a good clue about that. Two people using the same sink meant more crap would be on the counter and in the drawers, but unfortunately, this very well could've been the sink of a bachelor. Same with the shower.

'Any idea if Rex was seeing anyone romantically?'

'I asked. He said he wasn't.'

Colt couldn't help being a little disappointed at the dead end, but he also knew that ruling things out was just as important in an investigation as coming up with new suspects or theories.