Sunkissed Innsmouth
Part Twenty Two
Phillip stood up and left without a word. Felecia scanned the small hovel for a few more moments before tip toeing out as though her full footfalls might disturb the rigid corpse splayed out on the floor.
Felecia noticed Phillip stomping through the fresh mud left by the recent storm that managed to turn most of the snow to slush and the dirt to thick, sticky mud besides. He stepped around a solid avenue of footfalls that moved to and from the outhouse near Mullen’s shack. The door to the outhouse was open and sticking in the fresh mud leaning outward. “Mullens locked his son up in here most of the time. The boy was prone to violence, against himself mostly but also his father. He spent most of his life muttering to himself in here. Thing is, this place looks opened up, not broken out of.”
When Felecia managed to reach the stinking outhouse, Phillip pointed to the wide-open door and the length of chain and rusty padlock that yawned open as it dangled from the outhouse door.
Felecia didn’t linger on the macabre growing up, her life seemed challenging enough without the want to find solace in ghost stories or dime store crime novels. Her brothers though, and her father, they all seemed fascinated by such things. She was constantly bombarded with one fantastic tale about true crime or the supernatural. This was such an obvious device that Felecia nearly forgot about the very real, very dead man still splayed out in the shack behind them. She smiled and nodded at the door. “Poisoning, missing food, a likely suspect let loose to kill the likeliest of targets.”
Phillip nodded but also spoke cautiously, “The thing is, the people of the village are simple, most can’t read, none of them have a radio. If these people wanted Mullens dead, and many likely did, they would have come here as a posse and hung him or drowned him out in the shore line. Mores like, since most are cowards too boot, they would have come up the lane demanding that I speak to him on their behalf…again.”
Fresh perspective like that had Felecia doubting her obvious assumption but also wondering, who, if anyone, would have outside concern at all for the village or its people? Especially enough to plot murders and frame an imbecile.
Father, a seemingly never-ending wellspring of knowledge, even when he was well in his cups and speaking to his sons while assuming his daughter was asleep, came to mind. Something said during a perplexing card game that involved partners and placing bets.
Always ask yourself, in any transaction, be it money or emotion, who benefits?
The lesson to be learned and the sentiment involved was lost on deaf ears as one son continued to make wild bets against the other while father waited in the wings and took advantage of both of the other players until the game concluded. Years would go by before Felecia scared her father with her take on a question she only overheard as a child.
Felecia was ten and they were playing chess and father was pointing out moves to take her queen using his knight when Felecia picked up a rook that could take that knight and put his king in check.
Father hadn’t seen the move coming, neither had Felecia until she heard father equating the knight to a jack card in one of his card games. Father beat out both her brothers in that card game so many years before by using jacks. The young boys were both so busy arguing over the importance of other cards, they didn’t consider the jack a threat. Father used it to his benefit and even gave them a chance to notice his device before using it.
“You’ll take my rook with your queen after I take your knight, but my pawn will take your king. There are more pawns than anything else, they benefit by numbers. Always ask yourself, who benefits?”
Father’s mouth actually fell open, he looked like a nutcracker for a few moments before he laughed and slapped his own ample gut before taking a drink. “Who benefits, indeed! Well, little one, this time it’s the pawns, it seems.”
Felecia looked at Phillip and considered her previous lessons. “If the villagers aren’t involved, and they don’t benefit. Who does?”
Phillip nodded and smirked at Felecia before he picked a path in the mud and slush snow. “Who indeed?”