Spencer pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and squinted down at Dean's body.
"This is not good."
"I know. That's why I called you."
Gretchen sat at the kitchen table nursing a mug. She was wearing the kimono dressing gown that went with the cord Dean had used to tie her up.
Kobie was pacing backwards and forwards in the dining room biting her fingernails.
"How do you know Michael again?" Gretchen asked.
"We work together," Spencer glanced up from the where he was crouched next to the body on the kitchen floor. His eyes lingered on Gretchen's cup.
Gretchen looked down and saw what he was looking at.
"Would you like some Vodka mate?"
"I thought it was tea," said Spencer.
Michael frowned, he thought it was tea too. For a moment he tried to figure out why Gretchen was drinking vodka out of a mug, before remembering she'd just been held at knifepoint and watched a demonic entity disembowel her attacker. She was perfectly entitled to a mug of Vodka if she wanted one.
Considering he'd just dragged Spencer out of bed on a Monday at 9.30 pm to a crime scene, he was entitled to a mug of something as well.
"I can get you a cup of chamomile if you like," Michael said
"I need to think, I might need something a bit stronger. Do you have any earl grey?"
Michael walked to the tea cupboard, a towering wooden IKEA monstrosity sitting on the corner of one of their kitchen benches. Tea, much like books and clothes was something that it was easy to horde and then never actually get around to using. He rifled through their collection, pulling out bright pink boxes of echinacea berry fruit tisane and green foil packages of nettle and raspberry flower. Somehow amongst the hundred variety's, they didn't seem to have any earl grey.
"I've got English breakfast."
"That will suffice," Spencer stood up and leant against the kitchen sink. He stared down at Dean.
Kobie paced into the room, opened the fridge and then closed it again without looking inside.
"Guys, what are we going to do. I'm starting to freak out here."
"Do you have any carpet in the apartment?" Spencer asked.
"In my room," said Michael
"Show me."
Michael led Spencer to his room and showed him the thin grey wall-to-wall carpet visible under piles of discarded clothes and towels.
"This is stuck down to the floor, I mean a carpet you can lift up. A large rug."
"In here," called out Gretchen. They followed the sound of her voice into the lounge room. A large oval-shaped rug with flower details was spread out underneath the television cabinet and the couch. Michael was so used to it being there that he'd forgotten about it.
"If you're gonna say what I think you are, the answer is yes. We can use the rug. I always hated it anyway," Gretchen said.
"A rectangular shape would be better but this will be fine," Spencer said.
The sound of the kettle coming to the boil and then the click of it switching off came from the kitchen.
"I've changed my mind about that tea," Spencer continued, "I've lost my stomach for it I'm afraid. But that boiling water will be useful."
"Bags not cleaning," said Gretchen, "I'm calling knife attack victim privileges here."
Michael gave her shoulder a friendly pat: "That's alright, I'll-"
"This is my mess, I'm gonna clean it up," Kobie said suddenly.
"Darlin you really don't have to," Michael said.
"He only came here because of me. I need to do it. Please" She looked up at him with a pain in her eyes so close to the surface that Michael didn't argue. He pulled her gently towards him and kissed her on the forehead.
Kobie turned to Spencer: "Okay what's the plan".
"The first thing we have to do is get the body out of the house, and find some way to dispose of it that doesn't get linked back to you."
Everyone nodded, listening intently to Spencer as he spoke very matter of factly, as if he was discussing the itinerary for a school excursion.
"I agree with what you told me when I arrived. Your story is too far fetched for the police to believe you. It's a pity that this man's family won't get the closure that any grieving family seek, but in the circumstances, I don't think we have any choice. If you were to do 'the right thing' it would needlessly imperil the future for the three of you. However much a tragedy this man's death is, although based on what I've heard from you this is mitigated somewhat by his course nature... regardless, the tragedy of destroying three lives is worse. Kant's categorical imperative is insufficient to guide moral choice in this instance because of the unique-"
"Mate this isn't a fucking philosophy lecture" chipped in Gretchen, "the guy was an absolute psycho. I'm not saying he deserved to die like he did. But I'm not gonna cry myself to sleep over it either."
"We're agreed that we're going to deal with this ourselves," said Michael. Gently trying to nudge the conversation back to the topic of the plan.
"The first step, is disposing of the body," Spencer continued as if nobody had interrupted, "Who has a car that we can use. My Swift is too small."
Michael looked at Gretchen. She had an old beat-up Commodore that you could almost fit a fridge in the back of.
Gretchen sighed. "Okay, but if we get caught I'm taking you lot down with me. I want some company if I'm going inside. And make sure you wrap old-mate-no-guts in there properly with the carpet so he doesn't leak."
"Gretchen is correct. The next step is to wrap the cadaver in the carpet. To prevent any transfer of DNA. Also to hide the body from view."
"Won't it still look pretty suspicious if someone sees us carrying a rolled-up carpet around in the middle of the night?" Kobie asked.
"True," said Spencer, "Ideally we won't be seen by anyone. Luckily it's a weeknight, your street seems quiet. Gretchen can prepare her vehicle, we'll need enough space in the back to fit our guest. Kobie, if you're going to do the cleanup, I'd advise you to pour that boiling water into a bucket and scrub the linoleum with bleach and hot water. You should wear gloves. That leaves Michael and me."
Michael gave Spencer a resigned look, "We'll be moving the body then."
YOU ARE READING
Feathers
Paranormal*** COMPLETE *** After a freak accident, Michael is left with dark visions that he's too embarrassed to tell his girlfriend about. But what if they're not all in his head? A novel about love, trauma and friendship. About the things we hide from th...
