Renovations Read online

  “Sorry about the wait, Mr. Albright--”

  “Gibson.” James said, clearly annoyed by the second time Damianos made the mistake.

  “Damn, keep messing that up. Spent so much looking into your father, I only really think of you as his son so the name thing kind of screws me up.” Damianos said with dramatic innocence.

  “Look, I told you I have places to be today--”

  “I know, I know.” Damianos said, brushing him off. “Hopefully this will be done soon.”

  Damianos put down the sealed bag and pulled out a few plastic gloves from his pocket. He relished the look of confusion on James's face when he pulled the gloves over his hands and reached unzipped the bag.

  “You know, the pictures don't quite do the actual events justice. Happens a lot, there's just only so much they can capture.” Damianos said.

  “They've shown quite a lot.” James said defensively.

  Damianos stopped his movements in the bag and looked James in the eyes.

  “Remind me, your father really didn't molest you?”

  “No!” James said forcefully. “I have never been molested! Are we really going back to that again?”

  “Just couldn't remember your answer from the other day...you said you didn't think too highly of him, right?”

  “We weren't very close.”

  “Yeah, you said he was a bit of a pest.”

  Damianos finally pulled out the contents of the bag—one of the bloated dead rats found in the basement of Leon Edward's house.

  It was wrapped in plastic but very visible and Damianos dropped it onto the table in front of James.

  “Pests are annoying. Pests are disgusting. And pests...well, they're hard to get rid of.”

  The dead rat lay flat on top of the pictures of the elderly victims, and James stared down at it with wide eyes—though they didn't seem to be wide from fear or surprise. They were wide with something that seemed almost like excitement.

  “You ever have a rodent problem, Mr. Albright?”

  Damianos used that last name again as someone would use a knife, to make a quick jab that could cut deep.

  However, James didn't correct him this time. He just looked down at the dead rat with the wonder of a child.

  “We did once when I was a kid. We had mice...not quite as big and gross as our friend right here but they annoyed the hell out of my folks. Were just a pain to get rid of; hard to catch and hard to find once they made their home. You could hear them at night, scurrying inside the walls. Drove my parents crazy. You ever felt like that, Mr. Albright? Especially considering how hard your dad worked to create beautiful perfect homes that should be pest-free.”

  James said nothing but when he looked up from the rat to Damianos, there was a new-found expression on his face. With large eyes, it seemed to be a mix of hatred and crazed joy.

  “Am I free to go? I told you I have errands to run.”

  “Off to buy some more rat poison?”

  “I don't know what you're talking about.”

  “Of course not,” Damianos smirked. “You ever help an old lady across the street, Mr. Albright?”

  “Gibson!” James roared suddenly.

  “You keep saying that but that's not your name...not really. Your name was given to you by your father, the pest.” Damianos said, leaning across the table like a predator ready to pounce. “Your father who spent his life salvaging and fixing things that seemed old and decrepit. You don't seem to share his respect for old things...especially when your father was one.”

  “My father was evil.”

  “Really? Funny, since just the other day you were saying he wasn't that bad.”

  James grew quiet again and looked down once more at the rat and the photos. Damianos decided it was time to drop the pretenses and take the leap.

  “Is that why you abused him, James...because he was evil?”

  “You have no idea,” James said without looking up. “He was the grim reaper. Nothing but a sack of old bones slowly creeping through the house, tormenting me every moment of my life. Coughing, aching, and stumbling about...a constant reminder that I would be like that someday...old and worthless...clinging to life even though I have nothing left to offer it.”

  There it was—Damianos wanted to tear the man's throat out but he kept listening.

  James looked up, his face red with rage.

  “To live with that every day looming over you. A pathetic husk—a corpse—just walking around and showing me what my future what be! But I will never be that! No one should be! Being old is to be useless! Pointless! To be nothing but pitied by those who have more time and energy than you.”

  “You killed him for that...you killed them for that.”

  “Of course I did! Because clearly, it was taking too long for them to die naturally! They stuck around this life way too long that even their own bodies were shutting them down! But not quick enough! They take up so much space and contribute nothing! Just old bones that are waiting to die! They latch themselves onto our lives, people who actually have a future, and anchor themselves there like a damn wart! Ugly. Visible. And impossible to get rid of!” James yelled, rising from his chair.

  “Clearly not impossible. You seem to have done a pretty efficient job getting rid of helpless old men. Does it make you feel tough, hurting your elders? Make you feel young and strong, Albright?”

  “NOT ALBRIGHT! GIBSON!”

  Damianos stood tall, above the pudgy and sweaty James Gibson.

  “You killed all of those men.”

  James smiled wickedly, sweat dripping from his chubby face.

  “...they were too old to live anyway.”

  Damianos looked over at the mirror where he knew his partner was watching from the other side and gave a nod. He made for the door, having gotten what he needed from James but stopped when he was about to step out. Turning around, he saw the serial killer gasping for breath.

  “You're right. Someday, you are going to be old. But while you could've been enjoying your golden years in the comforts of say, a retirement home...you're going to be doing nothing but rotting away sitting in a prison cell. Enjoy.”

  With that, Damianos left the interview room with that wild animal finally in a cage.

  **

  Several weeks had passed before they were able to even begin to determine how many people James Gibson had killed over the years. Though, out of all of the serial killers in history, he would go down as one of the vilest.

  Damianos read over analytical report that psychologist's gave his profile.

  It was an interesting read, much of is he had determined for himself through the interrogation he had given but some things jumped out at him as just horrifying.

  According to the report, James Gibson needed to return those men to the dirt, like the waste he believed them to be, burying them in shame as if they had never existed at all. He didn't think the old should take up any more space than they already did, even a grave in a cemetery. They were nothing but garbage to him.

  The reports came to some of the same conclusions as Damianos had. Gibson's methods and pattern of killing, for one thing. The need for it to be a refurbished home due to his father and the rats being a totem and symbol for his views toward the old. Nothing but pests that burrow inside of a life and eat away at the soul.

  However, just when James Gibson's demented mind seemed to reach its pinnacle, something else would come up.

  The anthropologist on the case, having examined the deceased very thoroughly, had come to a discovery that would no doubt haunt Damianos's dreams in some form or another.

  Most of the victims, if not all, had been conscious during the rats' feast. They had all been eaten alive—and had died in great pain.

  It was terrible for someone who had lived through so many years to not be allowed to just fall into a well-deserved sleep. That had been taken from them.

  It made Damianos sick.

  Damianos looked forward to the hopefully long l
ife he had ahead of him: to growing old with Annie beside him, being able to enjoy the last years of life with no other cares in the world; no criminals to tame.

  Though, Damianos knew that no matter how many years passed, no matter how old he got, he would always get a small shiver up his spine when he'd hear something scratching in the walls of his home.

  Thank You

  I hope you enjoyed ‘Renovations(Horror Suspense novella)’ and would love to know what you thought about it. If you have a moment to spare, I would appreciate it if you could leave a review of this book at Amazon. Your opinion goes a long way in helping others decide if a book is for them.

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  Also, if you can, please help other readers find this book by recommending it to friends, readers’ groups and discussion boards.

  Thank you so much.

  John Stone

  Author of ‘Renovations(Horror Suspense novella)’

  Booklist

  A list of other horror suspense books published by John Stone:

  http://www.amazon.com/Ghost-Spirits-Thriller-Mystery-Supernatural-ebook/dp/B00H1FBFLU/ref=sr_1_26?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1429889928&sr=1-26&keywords=ghost

  http://www.amazon.com/Ghost-Thriller-Mystery-Supernatural-Spirit-ebook/dp/B00JDJ07C0/ref=sr_1_19?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1429889858&sr=1-19&keywords=ghost