Ibarely slept because I couldn’t stop seeing the hanging body of Doctor Thomas T. Tuttle, or what was left of him anyway. His frozen corpse, his white coat soaked through with blood and snow, missing head and all.
I sat on the edge of my bed, staring blankly at the objects ofCLUE #8on my dresser. The bloodied Santa hat, the bloodstained star. The letter:
“Learn of my deadly task, he only needed to ask.”
What the hell did that mean? What were they referring to?
My stomach turned just thinking about it. Colton was a killer, and apparently, I was next.
The knock at the door came sharp and sudden. I flinched, coming back to the present.
“Lenny?” a voice called. “It’s Joseph. You in there? Let’s talk, man.”
I wiped my face, stood too fast, and stumbled to the door.
Joseph stood on the porch, cheeks red from the cold, snowflakes caught in his hair. He held a brown paper bag in one arm, a bottle of red wine swinging in the other.
“Hey man, let’s just forget about what happened. I know you’re going through hell, and this is probably the worst Christmas you’llever have,” he said. “I figured you could use a drink. Well, maybe more than one, and I won’t let you drink it alone—amigo.” He winked at me.
Without saying a word, I let him in. Not because Iwantedhis company, but because part of me was afraid to be alone. I didn’t know if I could trust myself after what happened with George. I didn’t know what I was becoming.
He hopped inside, unbothered by the mess. I hadn’t bothered cleaning anything up since Angela’s disappearance. Files and unopened mail thrown about on our central table, empty cups toppled over on the floor, dirty laundry hanging off of chairs—I was a complete disaster.
I took a quick whiff and gagged. My place smelled like wet rats and dirty socks. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up because of how ashamed I was.
Joseph dropped the bag on the kitchen counter. “Eggnog,muydelicious,” he said, pulling out a half-gallon bottle. “With a little holiday spirit.” He cackled as he poured half eggnog and half wine into two mugs he pulled from my cupboard.
He pushed a mug into my chest, forcing me to grab it. “You frickin’ need this, my friend. With all the shit that’s been going on—we’re living in a damn horror movie!”
“Yeah, you’re right. Thanks,” I muttered.
He shoved my shoulder and nodded. “You’re damn right I’m right! It’s Christmas time! Why do we have people getting their heads chopped off and shit?! What the fuck is happening, bro?! Goodexcuse to have a drink, though.” He chugged down his special Christmas concoction and quickly poured himself more.
I looked at him carefully, wondering how much he was going to drink. He caught my stare and shook his head. “No, no. Fuck you. Don’t judge me. This butcher motherfucker might come slice my ass off and eat it like a ham. I’ll enjoy myself until then.”
I let out a dry chuckle. “Fair enough, Joseph.”
We sat down on my couch and tried to enjoy our drinks, even with all the murderous chaos around us. At first, we talked about the town—how everything had flipped upside down. The Xmas Day Butcher, the fear, the way Whisper’s Creek felt like it was unraveling thread by thread, primed to explode.
“I mean, George St. Nicklaus?” Joseph shook his head. “Never thought I’d say this, but I actually miss the crazy bastard. I can’t believe he was murdered like that, bro, and then his daughter showing up like that next to him?! I mean—what the hell?!”
“Yeah,” I replied, sipping my drink. “It’s all going to shit, Joseph. Angela…still nowhere to be seen, nowhere to be found. I’m worried, man. I don’t know if I’ll ever find her.”
Joseph nodded solemnly and poured more eggnog for me. “You deserve a break. You need to take it easy. This is all too much for oneamigo.”
I didn’t answer and accepted the refill.
A few hours passed. The bottle was drained—mainly by Joseph. My tongue got heavier and the ache in my chest softened. The snowfall outside deepened, pressing snow into the windows.
Joseph leaned back on the couch, eyes glassy.
“You know,” he slurred, “I always had a thing for Angela. Not just the looks—though damn, those didn’t hurt. She’s smart, so sharp, so hot, hot, hot! I used to find excuses to talk to her at the mayor’s office.”
My grip on the mug tightened.
“She flirted with me, man. I swear she did. One time, she touched my arm and laughed at something stupid I said. That laugh…man…”
He trailed off, smiling like he was remembering something precious.
