The Dead Speak Ill Of The Living (The Dead Speak Paranormal Mysteries Book 1) by Robert Wilde
Authors: Robert Wilde
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much lighter thanks to sunlight, pausing at
the back gate. After a tense moment when they thought it was locked, they
worked out Joe was just opening it wrong, and soon they were in.
“This looks much better in the day,” Pohl remarked, seeing even fish swimming
in the pond.
“If only we had time for a picnic,” Dee smirked.
They were soon at the back door.
“Are we really going to do this?” Pohl asked. “Are we really going to break
into someone’s home and rifle through it?”
“You have to admit, it’s better than going in to kill him,” Nazir counselled,
“we’re just looking for enough evidence to give the police.”
“And it’s not like we’re just going to nick all his hi-fi,” Joe added.
“Okay, I remain persuaded, wobble over. But how do we get in?”
“He keeps a spare key under the gnome with a red hat.”
“How do you know that?” Joe asked Nazir.
“Stop looking at me as if I’m psychic, I just checked the area out.”
“Right people, stop chatting, gloves on,” and Dee issued the kit.
Soon they were inside, and the first room was a kitchen. Joe casually opened a
cupboard door and found some cat food.
“That’s a fuckload of cat food.”
There were indeed an awful lot of cans, and when Joe opened the door next to it
found only more.
“How many cats does he have?” Pohl asked, expecting to be rushed by angry
moggies.
“And how many does he talk to?” Dee wondered out loud.
Soon they found themselves in a small hallway with a lounge and a study leading
off, and the group split in two, searching through drawers and desktops. It
turned out the best material was in the study.
“Okay, got something,” Joe called out, and they all gathered round. “This
appears to be,” and his voice was rising in incredulity, a set of minutes kept
at a series of meetings.” Joe waved the folder he’d just taken the papers out
of. “These meetings are a group of people, men and women judging by the names,
who are interested in cats. Very interested in cats.”
“Sexually?” Dee asked disapprovingly.
“Religiously. They believe cats talk to them, and they do what the cats say.”
“Like in Egypt?”
“They don’t even have that as a weight professor; like in ‘these people are
fucking mentals who are carrying out the cat's’ plan’.”
“And what is the plan?”
“I don’t actually know, there’s just lots of dates, vague statements of intent
and action, and success figures. But they do keep referring to the cellar.”
“Oh that’s just fucking superb,” Nazir said, realizing where they’d all be off
to soon.
“I take it you don’t want to lead the way?” Dee grinned at him.
“Ladies first.”
The cellar door was under the stairs, and as they opened the door there wasn’t
the strongest smell of animal and litter tray they’d ever smelt.
“Jesus,” Joe said, looking like he wanted to gag.
“I think we found the cats,” Pohl said.
“I think we found a rotting corpse, never mind anything living,” Dee said, and
they descended, the lights already on.
Well they found the cats alright, a large number of capacious cages housing
some distinctly unfriendly looking animals.
“Even for cats they look mean,” Joe commented.
And normally the cats would have drawn their full attention, but this cellar
had something which worked on the mind far more. Because as well as scratching
posts, and food placed on what for looked all the world like an altar, there
was a wooden shelf placed so high a cat could never get to it, and on the shelf
were eleven skulls. And they weren’t cat skulls.
“Are those human?” Joe asked, beginning to understand that Stuart wasn’t just a
grade one eccentric.
Nazir took one down and turned it over. “Looks very much like one. And this
one’s
the back gate. After a tense moment when they thought it was locked, they
worked out Joe was just opening it wrong, and soon they were in.
“This looks much better in the day,” Pohl remarked, seeing even fish swimming
in the pond.
“If only we had time for a picnic,” Dee smirked.
They were soon at the back door.
“Are we really going to do this?” Pohl asked. “Are we really going to break
into someone’s home and rifle through it?”
“You have to admit, it’s better than going in to kill him,” Nazir counselled,
“we’re just looking for enough evidence to give the police.”
“And it’s not like we’re just going to nick all his hi-fi,” Joe added.
“Okay, I remain persuaded, wobble over. But how do we get in?”
“He keeps a spare key under the gnome with a red hat.”
“How do you know that?” Joe asked Nazir.
“Stop looking at me as if I’m psychic, I just checked the area out.”
“Right people, stop chatting, gloves on,” and Dee issued the kit.
Soon they were inside, and the first room was a kitchen. Joe casually opened a
cupboard door and found some cat food.
“That’s a fuckload of cat food.”
There were indeed an awful lot of cans, and when Joe opened the door next to it
found only more.
“How many cats does he have?” Pohl asked, expecting to be rushed by angry
moggies.
“And how many does he talk to?” Dee wondered out loud.
Soon they found themselves in a small hallway with a lounge and a study leading
off, and the group split in two, searching through drawers and desktops. It
turned out the best material was in the study.
“Okay, got something,” Joe called out, and they all gathered round. “This
appears to be,” and his voice was rising in incredulity, a set of minutes kept
at a series of meetings.” Joe waved the folder he’d just taken the papers out
of. “These meetings are a group of people, men and women judging by the names,
who are interested in cats. Very interested in cats.”
“Sexually?” Dee asked disapprovingly.
“Religiously. They believe cats talk to them, and they do what the cats say.”
“Like in Egypt?”
“They don’t even have that as a weight professor; like in ‘these people are
fucking mentals who are carrying out the cat's’ plan’.”
“And what is the plan?”
“I don’t actually know, there’s just lots of dates, vague statements of intent
and action, and success figures. But they do keep referring to the cellar.”
“Oh that’s just fucking superb,” Nazir said, realizing where they’d all be off
to soon.
“I take it you don’t want to lead the way?” Dee grinned at him.
“Ladies first.”
The cellar door was under the stairs, and as they opened the door there wasn’t
the strongest smell of animal and litter tray they’d ever smelt.
“Jesus,” Joe said, looking like he wanted to gag.
“I think we found the cats,” Pohl said.
“I think we found a rotting corpse, never mind anything living,” Dee said, and
they descended, the lights already on.
Well they found the cats alright, a large number of capacious cages housing
some distinctly unfriendly looking animals.
“Even for cats they look mean,” Joe commented.
And normally the cats would have drawn their full attention, but this cellar
had something which worked on the mind far more. Because as well as scratching
posts, and food placed on what for looked all the world like an altar, there
was a wooden shelf placed so high a cat could never get to it, and on the shelf
were eleven skulls. And they weren’t cat skulls.
“Are those human?” Joe asked, beginning to understand that Stuart wasn’t just a
grade one eccentric.
Nazir took one down and turned it over. “Looks very much like one. And this
one’s
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