The Pumpkin Man (A dark Halloween novella)

by Luis Samways

  He handed her a glass of wine.

  "Come on Jess. I think you're overreacting here. Our daughter may not be a baby anymore, and I’m not disputing that, but she's far from grown-up. We’ve still got plenty of years of tantrums and crying left. So much stuff to look forward to! I can hardly wait. Instead of feeling sad, why don’t you turn that frown upside down? It's Halloween, baby! And if I recall, you have a very special gift waiting for me upstairs in the wardrobe…"

  Jessica rolled her eyes.

  "Is that all you can think about, Matt?"

  "Jess, that's all any man thinks about."

  He winked at her. Taking a sip of her wine, she licked her lips. Maybe Matt was right. Maybe she was overreacting.

  "So, you going to slip into that Catwoman suit or what?"

  Jess burst out laughing.

  "You don't hang about, do you?"

  "I've never been known as a patient man. But I'll admit, if you wanna slip into a nurse's outfit, I'll be your patient!"

  Not wanting to risk another eye roll, she put her glass down on the kitchen cabinet and slowly moved closer toward Matt.

  "Who needs an outfit?" She said, undoing the buttons on her workshop.

  "Now we’re talking!"

  Matt grabbed her by the waist and pulled himself closer. Planting a kiss on her neck, she felt his rough stubble against her skin. Tingles ran down her back as they fell onto the kitchen table. The kissing didn't stop. They continued to tussle on the table until their clothes were off.

  Little did they know that they only had minutes to live.

  Chapter Four

  "Wow, what a mess!" DI Hunt said as he walked into the barn.

  Standing directly in front of him was an eerily displayed body. But it wasn't so much the fact that the body had been put in a certain position that was playing with his mind, it was the fact that the body had been mutilated beyond recognition.

  "You’re saying that the father found his son like this?" DI Hunt said, scratching the stubble on his cheek.

  "I'm afraid so, sir. I wouldn’t wish that on any father. As you can imagine, he was rather shaken up by it."

  DI Hunt looked at his right-hand man, Ian, and nodded his head.

  "Well, sometimes you just can't help stumbling onto something like this, can you?"

  Ian frowned.

  "What you mean, sir?"

  "It's just a little bit convenient, that's all. I mean, I know I shouldn't really be judging the man, but they do say that you are judged by the company you keep. And unfortunately for Jeremiah, his son so happens to be notoriously troublesome around town. So, either the father got fed up with his shit and decided to make the punk pay, or somebody else got fed up with the kid and decided to cut him up some."

  It was obvious that his deputy Detective Ian didn't agree with his summarisation.

  "I don't think that at all. I know I said that something felt off on the phone, but I didn't mean that the father is my preliminary suspect. I mean, look at the place! Look at the absolute destruction that surrounds us. It's methodical. It's not by accident. It’s on purpose. You only see this sort of carnage coming from some sort of deranged lunatic / killer. So unless we've been pegging Jeremiah wrong all these years, I'd go as far as to say that we have a serial killer on the loose."

  DI Hunt shot Ian a look.

  "Don’t you think it's a little bit early to be crying serial killer? I haven't even examined the body yet, and you're already coming to conclusions! How about we glove up and take a closer look?"

  "That's what I'm trying to say, sir. I think it's only fitting that we get the crime scene guys in as well. We’re gonna need some help with this one. I don't think we can claim this as just an everyday-type murder."

  "Yeah, you're right. Let's get the CSI blokes in. Contact the Met. They’ll be able to help out. Besides, the Director owes me a favour. We go some ways back."

  "Do you go far back enough that London will wanna help the Devon and Cornwall police?"

  "It wouldn't hurt trying, now would it?"

  Ian nodded his head.

  "Well, I’ll make the phone call outside. Tricia wants to run you through her preliminary findings anyway. I'll join you in a second."

  "Sure. Besides, I'd rather spend my time with Tricia than you, no offence, Ian."

  "None taken. I don't blame you. I mean, look at her!"

  "You know that I can hear you two over there?" Tricia said as she got to her feet and pointed at both detectives with her torch, the light bouncing off DI Hunt’s retinas as he focused his eyes on her.

  "Yeah, you’ve always been quite the eavesdropper," Hunt said as he gloved up and walked toward her.

  "So, what seems to be the damage?" He asked as he joined Tricia near the body.

  "The damage? The damage is pretty significant. This poor kid has been gutted from bow to stern."

  "Poor kid? I dunno what you've heard Tricia, but this guy was a right rascal. Caused a lot of trouble around town. From what I understand, he actually holds the school record for number of consecutive expulsions."

  Tricia raised her eyebrow. She did that from time to time. To say that she was opinionated would be an understatement.

  "It doesn't really matter what sort of trouble he got up to in his young life or how many times he's been suspended from school. He didn't deserve to be gutted. The kid’s eyes were gouged out for Christ's sake!"

  "I see. How peculiar."

  "I wouldn't say it's peculiar. I'd say it's more fitting, given the M.O."

  Hunt gave the body the once over, paying a lot of attention to the gashes on his exposed skin.

  "So, you’ve got an idea about what the motive might be?"

  Tricia belly laughed, which was a strange sound to be coming out of anybody's mouth at a scene like this. Hunt just hoped that the father wasn't lurking around somewhere or they'd hear about how officers were laughing over his son’s corpse in the newspapers. Jeremiah was known to be a little proud. Proud enough that he'd make a scene if he saw such a thing taking place.

  "Finding the motive is your job, Mr Hunt. I'm just here to ascertain the time of death and cause of death. Surely by now, after all your years on the force, you'd know the differences between our job descriptions?"

  “What can I say, Tricia? I'm a slow learner."

  "Slow or not, I think you're right about something."

  "And what's that?"

  "The kid was a terror. Even I've heard stories about what he got up to at school. I think you're on the right track when it comes to taking into consideration his previous brushes with various people around town. If anything, the fact that he was such a troublemaker will make it a lot harder for us to find somebody who actually wanted to harm him. As far as I can tell, pretty much the entire town hated this kid’s guts. So, you're on the right track, but I'm afraid it's a track that’s long and winding."

  Hunt nodded.

  "I guess you're right. Looks like we’re headed for a storm here. A shit storm. I'll be sure to bear that in mind when I’m knocking on hundreds of possible suspect’s doors looking for leads."

  "That's the spirit, DI Hunt! If you can’t laugh, then cry. It’s all we can do at the end of the day."

  "I think there's going to be a lot of crying going on around here from here on out. I can already tell this is going to be a cluster fuck of a headache. We've got the overly strict father of a loud, obnoxious, 20 stone boy known for troublemaking, plus we’ve got a town full of people who hate both the father and the son. So the possibilities of who’s responsible for this are vast. I'm just looking forward to all the paperwork."

  "Good luck with that," Tricia said as she jotted something down on her clipboard.

  “So, what's the time of death?"

  "I'd say that Nathanial has been dead for around an hour, maybe an hour and a half. The father's story of finding him and immediately calling us seems to add up with the body’s spoil rate. So maybe the father is telling the truth? Heck, can a fath
er really do something like this to their own child?"

  Hunt smiled.

  "Tricia, you'd be amazed at what some parents can do to their children."

  "Is Hunt telling you about the time his father didn't buy him that trendy toy he wanted for Christmas?" Somebody said behind them. Turning around, Hunt saw his deputy smiling from ear to ear.

  "No, I was just telling Tricia how some parents can be rather abusive. Anyway, what’s with the smile? Made any headway with the Met?"

  Ian smiled again, this time bigger, which was hard to believe was even possible.

  "Yeah, you could say that."

  "Well, spill the beans!"

  "They're sending their best forensics guy down here. Goes by the name

  Black? Ashton Black?"

  DI Hunt didn't look happy.

  "What?"

  "Nothing. You did your best. You couldn't help it."

  "This Ashton Black a bad apple, or something?"

  "No. Far from it, actually. But he is a ball breaker."

  "Well, from what I've heard, Hunt, you’re into that kinky shit," Tricia said, snorting.

  "Obviously you haven't been talking to my wife. Her idea of kinky is going to bed early."

  The three of them chuckled amongst themselves before they all diverted their attention back to the boy on the ground.

  "So, what are we going to do with him?" Deputy Detective Ian asked.

  "I guess we wait for Ashton to show up. He’ll know what to do. He's a pro."

  "I thought you said that you didn't like this bloke?"

  "Just because I don't like him doesn't mean that he isn’t good at his job. You'll see what I mean."

  "I can hardly wait, Guv."

  Chapter Five

  "Did you hear that?" Jess said, her eyes widening all of a sudden.

  "No, are you sure you heard something?" Matt replied, panting for breath.

  The two of them had been at it now for a good 20 minutes, which was way past Matt's usual effort. He wasn't the most romantic, nor the most impressive man in the sack, but he was a genuinely caring soul.

  Jess couldn't have asked for a nicer man.

  "I'm sure I heard something. It sounded like it was coming from the kitchen."

  Matt rolled his eyes.

  "Come on Jess, I'd rather we continue this little expedition of love we’ve got going on here. You know that we don't get much time to ourselves. So there's no way in hell that I am getting up and checking in the kitchen. We were just in there five minutes ago! There was nobody in there then, and there’s nobody in there now!"

  "If you're so sure about that, then why don't you go and check?" Jess said, her concerned expression deepening even more.

  Matt could tell that she was frightened. He didn't like seeing her in this state. Jess had a few issues with anxiety, and watching her skitter about like this was making him feel uncomfortable. So he decided that even though he was in the middle of such a passionate display of his sexual prowess, he thought that it would be best if he went and checked exactly what was going on in the kitchen. Even if it was just to put Jess's mind at ease.

  "Okay, okay! I'm on my way. But, when I get back into the living room, I expect you to be wearing that Catwoman costume! No questions asked!"

  "Just go and see what's going on in there."

  Matt got to his feet.

  He knew that she was overreacting. She did that from time to time. But he wasn't one to judge her. She'd had a difficult upbringing. And noises in the kitchen were the least of her troubles back then. So he understood where she was coming from. And he often found himself trying to make her more at ease as the days passed and they got stronger as a couple.

  He was actually under the impression that because he was so caring, they had lasted so long. So he had no issues with being a little chivalrous from time to time, even if that meant traipsing barefoot into a dark kitchen during the throes of passion to check if the locks on the door were all still intact.

  "Go on then, what are you waiting for?" Jess said, turning onto her stomach.

  Any time she did that, Matt couldn't help but stare at his wife's amazing body, glistening in the dimly lit ambience of the living room. But he could tell that his attentions weren't needed or appreciated at this very moment in time. So, without a fight, he slipped into his boxers and walked toward the kitchen.

  Everything was so dark around him. He could hear the hum coming from the extractor fan on the wall as it sucked in air and rattled violently, the blades spinning inside the mechanism, whirling all sorts of kitchen smells into the damp air outside.

  But there was another noise. A noise that he didn't recognise. It was then that he stopped dead in his tracks, practically trembling in fear. The noise wasn't all he had to contend with now. Now he had shadows in his peripheral vision. Shadows moving, back-and-forth, shadows that oddly looked humanlike. His sudden stopped frame freaked Jess out even more. She could see him from the sofa, just standing there in pure terror, and, in turn, she froze on the spot as well.

  Jess knew that something was wrong. Something wrong enough to make her usually brave and courageous husband come to stop like a freight train in the dead of the night. She could always count on him to protect her. But something definitely felt off about this. It was as if the atmosphere had turned, like sour grapes in an overly expensive fogged-up bottle of wine. The air had turned putrid. And there was a smell to it. A smell that she didn't recognise. A smell that she knew her husband was smelling too.

  She was just about to say something when Matt turned toward her, his eyes bugged out like a dear in the headlights. The expression on his face told her everything she needed to know. And with that, she let out a scream. But it was too late. The knife had already found its way toward Matt's neck. And out of the shadows a gloved hand slashed at her husband. It didn't take long for Matt to drop to the floor like he was being weighed down by an anvil.

  She could hear him sucking in air through the slits in his throat. But no other sounds were coming out of his mouth. He didn't cry for help, nor did he shout out her name. Instead, he just lay there, dying. She was just about to let out another screen when the gloved assailant stepped out of the shadows, revealing himself.

  She could hardly believe what she was seeing. Standing in front of her, a mere 5 or 6 meters away from her was a masked man. But he wasn't exactly masked per se, instead, he was wearing a pumpkin on his head. She couldn't believe it. She could hardly make sense of what she was looking at. But then it all began to come together, like super glue on bare fingers. The putrid smell was coming from the pumpkin on his head, rotting away as he stood there staring at her.

  “Ready to play?” the Pumpkin Man hissed before charging toward her.

  Chapter Six

  "What's taking him so long?" DI Hunt said as he slouched against the outside of the barn.

  Looking up at the sky, he saw that the clouds had begun to scatter, revealing a slurry of sloppy and tired-looking stars above his head. For a moment or two, he became distracted. He started to wonder about the possibility of there being a God up there, watching down on the human race as it tore each other to pieces.

  Hunt had never been much of a religious man, in fact, for many years he'd shunned the idea of even considering religion at all.

  But the longer he did this job, the more he began to soften to the idea of there being a greater good up there – if only just to make himself feel better about the state of humanity and society as a whole.

  "London is quite a drive, sir. He should be here in the next couple of hours. Maybe it's best if you and I go down to the station and have a brew?" Deputy Ian said as he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a cigarette packet.

  He lit a Marlboro, the orange tinge of light illuminated his face for a few seconds. Within those seconds, Hunt could see just how weary and battered the young deputy looked. It was obvious that this crime scene was getting to the young man. Hunt couldn't blame him, really. It wasn’
t every day that you stumbled upon a scene like this.

  "Pretty sick stuff, don't you think?" Hunt said suddenly, attempting to get to the bottom of the deputy’s solemn demeanour.