by JN Lenz
The ropes and the metal of the chandelier moaned under the stress from the weight of the dead body as it inched ever higher towards the bottom of the large lamp. Once Mitchell’s feet hung freely in the air and well above the floor below Clyde would tie the end of the rope securely to the end of the solid wood bed post. Clyde would be glad for the double Latex gloves as the rope had begun to wear through the first glove, the second pair the only barrier as he reluctantly pulled Mitchell’s penis out of the woman’s under wear left to hang freely on the outside of the woman’s under wear. There was a small table Clyde would pull directly below the hanging body.
To ensure the room was to be set up properly Clyde propped the dead body of Mitchell up on top of the table before allowing the dead body to fall off the table spilling the table off its legs landing on the face of the table as the stiff body fell with the loud sound as the weight of the body completely snapped Michelle neck as it resonated through the house with a large crack. The body would swing back and forth as it began a slow circular spin as Mitchell’s legs hit the end board of the large solid wood bed where his mother laid dead her eyes closed and her mouth wide open. As the rotation began to slow the body began to swing in a lazy counter clock wise direction with his pink satin robe hanging half off, almost touching the floor below.
Walking over to the side of the large bed Clyde removed the syringe from the chest of Eleanor Elderson her eyes closed but her mouth still wide open as she stared at the ceiling of her former bedroom. Walking back over her hanging son Clyde would wrap Mitchell’s hand firmly around the syringe several times before placing it neatly on the night stand directly beside the dead body of Eleanor Elderson. With the drapes remaining fully drawn, Clyde turned on the bedroom light to aid in the search for the second syringe that had been knocked from his hand during the struggle with Mitchell; he also wanted to ensure the room was in order from the earlier scuffle. A small ottoman had been tipped on its side so it was returned to an upright position centered on the chair behind it, sliding the footrest over Clyde spotted the missing syringe lying at the corner of the baseboards next to the tall upright lamp.
Reaching down and collecting the second needle he placed it neatly back into his pocket after placing the small plastic needle end cap on the syringe which he still had in the jacket pocket. Taking one last look around Clyde turned the bedroom light off and returned to the window at the end of the second floor hallway which he had entered over an hour earlier, Clyde made sure the window was closed tightly before pushing the metal tab to lock the window.
Before descending the stairs Clyde would walk into the bedroom one last time to ensure nothing had been missed, first walking over to the dead body on the bed of Eleanor Eldridge who’s closed eyes and gapping wide open mouth with her head facing directly up to the bedrooms ceiling, Clyde preceded past the hanging Mitchell Eldridge who’s body no longer rotated on its rope his head hung in an exaggerated slump against his chest as the pink silk and satin covered body now hung there motionless.
After passing the body Clyde walked out of the bedroom and down the stair case stopping at the bottom stair so he could peek out from behind the staircases supporting wall and out through the windows, Clyde would use the dining room windows for a view out towards the street which remained motionless and clear of traffic under the domes of light cast down from the street lamps.
Clyde quickly slipped around the front of the stair case, walking tight to the walls of the main floor to remain in the darkness, so not to be visible from the street. The round push style lock on the door handle was pushed into the lock position as Clyde pulled the kitchen door closed behind him. He would make his way out to the back yard of the adjacent property, staying in the shadows of the tall borderline cedar fence before hopping over the fence and making his way back out the street.
Walking on the deserted sidewalks and streets, Clyde would be back to the old pickup in a matter of minutes. Firing up the old truck he slowly made his way back to the rental townhouse, arriving back by two in the morning. After packing a bag, Clyde would head back out to the Ford and drive back up to the Funeral Home in Largo. I would not even hear him come into the apartment that night at what would be close to four in the morning.
It would not be until the following morning when I was making coffee in the apartment kitchen that I would see his bag by the front door. After realizing Clyde had arrived through the night, I wondered what the early return was about since he normally returned from school on Friday’s after six pm. I would not see him until later that morning, coming back into the apartment living room around eleven that morning, Clyde was watching the news as he sat there drinking a coffee.
“The news has not reported a word about a murder or a suicide so far.”
“What murder would that be?”
“The murder of Eleanor Elderson and suicide of her son Mitchell. I have not heard a word about either of them on the morning news.”
“Eleanor and Mitchell, why are would there be two dead bodies Clyde?”
“Nothing I could do, I had to kill them both. The son got in the way, a bit of a funny one he was”
“Funny how?”
“Funny in a like’s to dress like an old lady funny.”
“Really, so what happened?”
Clyde detailed the events of the previous night. The end result was that there would be two cadavers to be picked up in the city; he added how the second murder had been unexpected. Mitchell’s presence had caught him by surprise, he had no choice but to kill Eleanor’s son. Clyde and I would spend that entire day wondering if the news had broken on the murder. Tuning into the news throughout the day, there was to be no news concerning the murder or death of either of the Eldridge’s for that entire day. I remember how the two of us discussed the detail again late that Saturday night as we shared a bottle of Crown Royal; we had decided the bodies must not have been discovered in the home yet.
“That’s going to do it then, that’s the six you had planned. The pair will both be a high end services and should give us more than enough to pay that fucking scum bag Vito off even before these last two” I would say to Clyde that night at a point that I was getting a little drunk from the whiskey, Clyde’s detailed stories of murder only exacerbated the speed of the whiskey’s consumption.
“Well my plan was six individual killings from that list of pre arrangements. To me this one was more of a bonus, I was thinking about that and there should be no reason of not still going through with number six perhaps next weekends. The urgency on time is not the same as the others so there is no rush to get it done sooner but I’m sure we can use the money over and above the amount we need for Vito, besides that will give us a couple of days with nothing to do but get drunk and stoned” Clyde too began to slur slightly as he talked, after the past few weeks he needed the drinks as much if not more than I did. Clyde and I drank the remainder of that forty pounder that night along with a few beers and a few joints; we would talk for hours that night into the early morning hours on Sunday.
The entire weekend passed without a word on the news or by way of anyone requesting a pick up for the Eldridge’s. We both assumed that no one had been to the house so the bodies had yet to be discovered, that assumption proved correct as the news of the dead pair did not make the local evening news until Sunday late afternoon.
Clyde and I used what had become a rare day off on the Sunday to get the bikes out, and carve up some twisty roads; nothing cleared all the shit out of your head faster than a plus two hundred kilometer shunt through some winding roads on a high performance motor cycle. We stopped in a small village pub halfway through our ride for a beer, on the small TV perched up high above the bar tenders head Clyde motioned to the images of the Eldridge’s home on the screen, although the sound was muted numerous Police vehicles and personnel populated the clip
“Hey turn that up man” Clyde called to the slumping bar tender perched on a small round stool at the far end of the bar, he would r
aise his left hand lifting it up directly above his head without looking to find the small dial and turn the volume up substantially.
“Unofficially I have been told the double deaths may be the result of a murder suicide. Autopsy results normally may not be released for three to four days according to the Police spokesman. This is Adrian Grubstake reporting live from Toronto” Clyde would yell over to the bar tender that he could turn the TV back down.
“Thought they were talking about something else” comment for the bar tender and the four other patrons of the small roadside bars benefit.
The two of us would leave the bar without talking at all about what we had both just heard and seen on the television; riding for several miles down the road we would find a small rest area to park the motor bikes so we could talk in privacy. The two of us would rehash the same things we had talked about a night earlier while we shared a joint and pondered the up and coming week, Clyde would be back off to school in the morning or late tonight. If the reporter was correct on the three to four days to determine the cause of death we would not be going to pick up what was likely a pair of cadavers on Thursday and a Saturday service. Although the pre arrangement was for Eleanor Eldridge only we both speculated that the son Mitchell would be buried alongside his mother during the same service.
I would be the first receive the news of the dual family burial at the Shackles Funeral Home having answered the phone call from the estate lawyer informing me that the coroner had authorized the release of the bodies on Wednesday morning. The lawyer went on to detail the instructions on having Eleanor Elderson’s funeral service performed at our funeral home and under the circumstances would be authorizing us to also perform the services for her only son.
Although there were no provisions in Eleanor’s will concerning the burial of any of her children, the surviving three daughters of Eleanor had agreed with the estate lawyer on having Mitchell’s funeral service take place with their mothers regardless of the results of the Police investigation. The results of the coroner showed through the toxicology reports that Eleanor Elderson had died from a lethal injection of poison into her system, although the coroner would have some inconclusive findings in regard to the death of Mitchell. There was conflicting evidence in the man’s neck wounds.
Despite a report from the coroner’s office in Toronto raising questions as to whether Mitchell had been strangled before having his neck snapped from the force of the rope the Police investigation classified the case as a murder suicide and closed the case. Both Fred and I would need to take both the service van and the hearse on the drive down into Toronto to pick up the mother and son cadavers from one of the city morgues.
The funeral service for the pair on the following Saturday would have an even more profound eeriness surrounding the entire event, it was like you could see the disgust and horror on the peoples face as they paid their last respects to Eleanor knowing the body of her murderous son sat somewhere in the same building.
Following the release of the Police report and determination on the death of both Eleanor Elderson and her son Mitchell, the three surviving daughters had made the determination that Mitchell was to be buried without any visitation before a closed to the public service on the Friday afternoon before his mother’s Saturday service. The three daughters had also made the decision to burry Mitchell in his own plot, on the opposite side of the cemetery to the family plot which already held their father Mr. Elderson.
Mitchell Elderson would be the first person Clyde would kill and not see in the embalming room or dead in their casket prior to being burnt or buried. The service for Eleanor Elderson would take place on the following day; the Saturday service would take place in the early afternoon and was lightly attended. All three of the surviving daughters would be seated and driven to the cemetery by Clyde who the youngest of the three daughters appeared be taking a liking to Clyde.
The youngest and only one of Eleanor’s daughters not to have married appeared to be attracted to Clyde. I was easy to tell the way she continued to stare at him throughout the afternoon that she was taking a liking to the young murderer, but Clyde being Clyde, he either ignored her blatant interest in him or her attention simply did not register with him. Regardless the pretty daughter of Eleanor, seeking love from the depths of her sorrow, had laid eyes on the wrong attractive man, if she was looking for love and compassion. Clyde would allow her to leave that day without even an attempt on getting to know the woman personally. Even Fred would rib Clyde later in the office, how the youngest daughter
“She had a real eye for you Clyde, could you not see it? What don’t you like pussy boy?”
“Fuck off old man, how much action has you seen in all the years I’ve been alive?
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Chapter 9
The recent surge of funerals had meant we now had invoiced more than enough money to pay off Vito, all that we required now was payment against those invoices. The unexpected bonus of getting two high end services from one pre arrangement meant having the funds weeks earlier than we had initially planned. We could pay Vito in full, the original twenty five grand, and the insane weekly interest rate. Six weeks after we started and the sixty grand we had gathered would end this thing with Vito, how fitting.
The money from the pre arrangements Clyde had murdered, along with our traditional, non-murdered business at the funeral home had brought us to this grand total. Each payment cheque had been taken directly to the bank to be turned into cash; this was a frequent occurrence with Fred at the Bank. We kept the denomination of the bills to one hundred dollar bills, all it sat counted and banded neatly, sitting in the small office safe in the back of the funeral home.
I was planning a midafternoon run into Toronto, wanting to finally pay Fred’s tab that day before we incurred more of the interest charges against the total Fred owed. If I could get Vito paid on that weekend it would be for sixty thousand dollars instead of the eighty thousand that would be due in three weeks. I will say that much for both Clyde and I, we had been wise enough to stay clear of scum bag loan shark types until Fred unwittingly pulled us in.
The pair of us usually had more cash hidden than we cared to use, but after all that prudence with our own money I was ready to hand over another sixty thousand dollars for what began as a twenty thousand dollar loan. This would certainly be a first and a last time Clyde or I are willing to do this for Fred. How Fred could resort to a dirt bag loan shark when he had already almost lost everything (after having been given everything he could ever need after the death of his father) I could never understand, nor could I ever tolerate it again in the future.
Any business offered in exchange for cash during an illegal game of Poker inherently comes with it a fair share of risk; I think both Clyde and I knew that at the time. You would need to be fairly inept and dense to think someone would risk the loss of a viable profitable business with no blemishes for a total cash pot that was worth less than sixty thousand dollars. The magnitude of Fred’s indebtedness still shocked us even though we entered into this business venture with our eyes wide open.
This loan from Vito was made before he offered up the business that night, so Clyde and I would pay this one last tab. After this last loan we will have mitigated and settled all the risk Fred had laid on the table on that Tuesday night back in Parsons. Legally we had Fred completely removed from all portions of the property deed and business ownership papers, removing his legal avenues of securing funds for gambling.
Should Fred ever pursue less than legal avenues in obtaining gambling cash in the future, neither Clyde nor myself would stop the fuck from being hung by his bloody toes.
He’s on his own from here on in.
. No cash infusions from us after this round, Clyde and I had already agreed and explained that to Fred in no uncertain terms. There was no way we were about to let Fred’s degenerate gambling problem have us lose out on our future financial freedom, we had invested tens of thousands of do
llars of our own money and we had no intention on losing any of it.
If Fred was a case study on gambling addiction he would show that being addicted to gambling not only robs you of your money and your life but also steals that part of your mind that normally makes reasonably sound financial decisions along the way. What sane person would wager the roof over their head and their very livelihood when stacked against the odds Clyde had faced that night at the Poker table, having already lost far more than he had one even that night.
Fred’s gambling cost him everything financially, the gambling was taking a human toll on him as well including losing one of his digits, all in pursuit of Fred’s obsession of the big win. That big win that never came for Fred, that damn illusiveness of the big win would drive him to want it that much more always believing that magic moment was one Poker hand result away, he had come so far it had to be around the next corner. Fred was just the jackpot of losers when it came to gambling, his friends and the residents of Largo would clearly see Fred possessed simple bad luck, yes everyone could see that bad luck plain as day, everyone but him.
With the cash now locked in the office safe my plan had been to drive to Toronto that Saturday or Sunday, I wanted to pay Vito before another day could go bye with hundreds of dollars adding to the total. We had been a little surprised to see the payment cheque for Macy Mae the third victim’s service arrived by special post at the Funeral Home early enough on Friday to still make the bank and to convert it into cash to add to the stacks in the office safe. The cheque from the estate lawyer of Harry Winslow also arrived on the Friday but first thing in the morning, that had been the payment we had really been waiting for providing us with sixty percent of the cash I would take Vito on Saturday or Sunday.