Creede

By Lydia Smith

After receiving Loris message, I called my parents to see if they would keep the boys while I was gone. That phone call didnt go as planned. Mom and Dad decided that they needed a vacation, and it would be great fun to take the boys and fly with me to Colorado. Mom was sure that there would be plenty of room in the jet. They could all fish, raft, hike, and have fun while Lori and I met with the local authorities and tried to help Cassie.

The big jet that Lori had chartered was certainly large enough to carry the five of us, and my parents could rent a cabin at Steiners Ranch. It might be fun for the boys. Tyler and Cody have always loved going to Colorado for vacations.

So there we all sat on a jet heading for Creede.

The trip was uneventful for the most part. Of course, my familys interpretation of uneventful is far beyond what most normal families call uneventful. An uneventful week for our family is one where only one trip to the hospital is necessary.

Tyler mostly read or played with his dinosaurs. But we almost had a drowning tragedy when the Tyrannosaurus rex got stuck in the toilet as he was getting a drink. Tyler had gone to use the bathroom and decided that the T-rex was thirsty. He tried to explain to me why the T-rex had to drink out of the toilet instead of the sink. But for some reason, I just couldnt grasp the logic in it.

I tried, but couldnt get the hard rubber T-rex out of the hole. So we called on the man that can fix anything, especially if he has his duct tape with him. Dad tried pulling on the T-rex, but it was stuck good and tight. It appeared that one of the legs was hung on something under the lid and wouldnt budge. Finally, Dad wedged his hand between the toy and the side of the toilet so he could feel what it had gotten hung on. That was easier said than done since the hole in the toilet was about five inches in diameter and had a hinged cover that opened and closed whenever the lever was pushed.

At least half of the T-rex was stuck in the hole, and the cover had tried to close over it. I could hear muttering coming from Dad. His head was turned down and away from me, and Tyler was crying as loud as he could, so I couldnt hear anything Dad said. I asked him to repeat what he had just said. I heard louder mutterings and could make out something about these damned dinosaurs.

It finally dawned on me that Dads arm was literally stuck. He couldnt pull it out, and he couldnt push it further in. Considering where his arm was, I didnt think pushing it further in was a very good idea, anyway. I didnt mention that fact to Dad though because he didnt look like he was in the mood to take any advice at the moment. In fact, in situations like this one, it was always best to call on the boss.

I yelled for Mom to come and help. Now there are three adults, one child, and one toy dinosaur in this tiny airplane bathroom. It was getting pretty claustrophobic, and Dads coloring wasnt looking very good to me. His face was dark red, and the veins on his neck and forehead were popping out. I couldnt tell if it was from bending over so long or being just plain mad. It didnt really matter. I was concerned that he might pass out.

Mom wedged her way out of the bathroom and headed to the galley. She brought back some cooking spray. I give her a quizzical look, and she shrugged her shoulders. They didnt have any oil was all she said.

She leaned over Dad and covered his arm with the cooking spray. Rubbing the oil all over his arm, she started pushing it into and pulling it out of the hole. Every once in a while, she would spray more oil on his arm. It didnt look like this was working very well to me.

Mom looked up at me and said, Lean around me and pull open the cover to the hole so I can get more oil on the lower part of your dads arm.

I looked at her like she was nuts. You are crazy if you think Im going to touch that thing with my hands, bare or otherwise, I

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jun 26, 2013
• ISBN: 9781483659626

Lydia Smith

Lydia Smith was raised in Garland, Texas, the second of four children. She has two brothers and one sister. She married young and has three children. She always wanted to write about the hilarious antics of the children. She began writing Treachery in Creede about three years ago and incorporated several of the children’s comical events for the enjoyment of her family and friends. After reading the book, her daughters and best friend convinced her to publish it.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Everything hurt. He had been sitting in the cramped storage room for over an hour, waiting for the couple to return home from the party. He was considering giving up for the night when he heard the faint sound of the keys turning in the lock of the front door. As the man and woman entered the apartment, he could hear them arguing. The man had apparently had too much to drink and had been caught with one of the female party guests. He was trying to convince his wife that he was only having some good-natured fun.

The wife whirled around and faced her husband. She walked over to him, raised her face so she could look him in the eyes, and told him that they were finished. She was through putting up with his lies and deceit. She informed him that she was going to stay with her friend Gillian over the weekend. Monday morning, she was going to call a lawyer and file for divorce. With that final bit of information, she turned around to walk out of the room. The husband couldn’t believe what he had just heard. He grabbed her arm before she could take two steps and swung her around to face him. As she swung around, her right hand lashed out and struck him on the side of the face. The ring she was wearing caught him just under the eye and scratched a long line down the side of his face.

He grabbed the offending hand and held her by both arms so she couldn’t strike him again. She was squirming and twisting, trying to get out of his grasp. He refused to let her go until she promised that she would not hit him again. When she nodded her head in agreement, he released both of her arms.

She spun around and ran up the stairs to go to their bedroom. He followed her to the bottom of the stairs. He could hear slamming drawers and vases shattering as they were being thrown against the walls. She was really mad this time, and he wondered if she was really packing to leave. His life had taken a definite turn for the worse, and he wondered if it could be fixed.

The intruder watched the entire scene play out before his eyes. He couldn’t believe his good fortune. This was going to work out perfectly. Mel and Cassie have a huge fight. Mel gets killed. Cassie gets the blame. He couldn’t have planned it better himself.

Mel turned around and went back to the bar to pour another drink. His face burned like hell where Cassie’s ring had scratched it. He threw back the drink in one big noisy gulp, spilling a good portion of it down his chin and onto his white shirt. Then he poured himself another one. After several more drinks, he decided that he was going to go up to their room and give Cassie a piece of his mind.

As he turned to walk out of the room, his foot caught the leg of the barstool, sending him twirling and stumbling into the leather sofa. Hitting the sofa off-balance, he went headfirst in a somersault over the back. When he finally landed, he was in a sitting position on the floor with one leg stretched out in front and one leg bent behind him. He looked back at the barstool and thanked God he had not broken his neck.

Holding on to the sofa, he gently pulled himself up. He grabbed his head with both hands to keep it steady. As he walked to the door, the whole room swirled around in a vicious circle, and he had to grab hold of anything he passed to steady himself. He finally made it across the room to the doorway. The lights in the foyer were blinding, so he squeezed his eyes tightly shut. Slowly, he opened his eyes a tiny crack. When his eyes became adjusted to the light, he opened them a little more. After several minutes, he was able to fully open them.

Cautiously he made his way across the foyer to the bottom of the stairs. Looking up at the top of the stairs made him so dizzy he thought he was going to vomit. It felt like his eyeballs were swirling in his head. Trying to steady himself, he held on to the banister with his right hand. In his left hand, he was holding the crystal glass containing the remains of his drink. He looked down and saw multiple sets of stairs. They were all swaying back and forth and over each other in circles. He tried several times to place his foot on the bottom step, but he kept missing. Careful not to spill his drink, he reached down and tried to push the swirling staircases together into one. It worked. But when he removed his hands, they started swirling again.

He tried blinking his eyes several times and then holding them closed. He opened them one at a time, staring intently at the staircase and commanding it to stop moving around. The damn thing wouldn’t stop swirling. Giving up on the idea of stopping the movement of the stairs, he lifted his right foot, swinging it in a circular motion to match the rhythm of the stairs. When he felt he had the timing just right, he slammed his foot down on the bottom step. His foot caught the edge of the step and slipped off. Somehow he managed to keep his balance. He tried it several more times before finally landing his right foot squarely on the middle of the step. Next came his left foot.

So far so good, he thought to himself.

He was hanging on to the banister for dear life. It didn’t matter how many times he blinked his eyes; those blasted stairs would not be still. His eyes would roll around in his head whenever he looked down at the stairs, and the movement was making him nauseous. He had made it up about six steps when he missed the next step, suddenly lurched forward, and landed face-first, striking his chin on the stairs. His arms were outstretched in front of him as he bounced and bumped his way down the six steps he had so recently climbed. When he finally stopped sliding, he opened his eyes and looked up at the stairs, cursing under his breath.

He looked in his left hand and stared in wonder at the crystal glass still in his hand. He brought his arms down and turned over on his back. Gently and ever so slowly, he began to rise to a sitting position. Once seated, he brought the glass to eye level. To his amazement, not a drop of the liquid had been spilled. He rose to his feet and, after several more attempts, was finally able to make it to the top of the stairs. Looking down at the stairs below, he raised his glass in salute and took a big drink.

As he was saluting the stairs, he noticed that the door to the entry closet was slightly ajar. That was a big surprise because he didn’t remember either him or Cassie going into the closet. For a split second, he thought about descending the staircase to go shut the door. He shook his head in denial. His chin hurt like hell. His head was on a fast track to catch up with the pain in his chin, and there was no way he was going to climb those stairs again tonight. Turning to look in the direction of the master bedroom, he shook his head, deciding he would be better off in the guest room tonight. Leaning against the wall for support, the husband slowly made his way down the hall.

The intruder sat in his hiding place, watching the man through the small crack in the door. He couldn’t see all the way to the top of the stairs, but he assumed the man had made it safely since he hadn’t fallen down a second time. Watching the man ascend the staircase would have been funny under normal circumstances. But he wasn’t here for comedy on this dark night.

He heard a door shut on the second floor and knew the time was at hand. He slipped out of his hiding place and closed the door. Slowly he climbed the stairs being careful to miss the creaky third step. He stopped at the top, leaned against the wall and carefully listened for Mel and Cassie. He didn’t hear voices coming from either direction.

He decided to check the master bedroom first. He looked in both directions to make sure the hall was empty before he tiptoed to the door. Slowly he turned the door knob and opened the door a crack. He stood and listened for any movement or sound within. He could hear the faint sound of water running and walked over to the bathroom door. He opened the door just enough to see inside the bathroom. The wife was in the shower apparently talking to herself.

There was no sign of the husband so he left the master bedroom. Softly he walked down the hall to the next bedroom and slowly opened the door. He just caught a glimpse of the husband’s bare butt as he walked into the bathroom. Clothing littered the floor of the bedroom as the husband must have shed one article of clothing at a time on his way to the bathroom.

The intruder stepped into the bedroom and quietly closed the door. Cautiously he walked through the bedroom to the bathroom door. Peeking inside the bathroom he could see the husband standing in the hot steamy shower. The bathroom was open and spacious. It was nowhere near the size of the master bathroom, but it was considerably larger than most standard bathrooms. There was a separate commode room with a door on the opposite side of the bathroom from the shower. He quietly walked over to the room and stepped inside. He gently closed the door and began taking off his clothes. He folded them neatly and laid them on the commode. He put on the latex gloves he had brought with him and picked up the long hunting knife that he had purchased that morning. Taking a deep breath, he stepped out of the commode room.

The intruder walked over to the shower. Steam from the hot water had filled the shower stall, and he could barely make out Mel’s form. Mel was standing in the shower with his head bent down and his hands on the wall on either side of the showerhead, letting the pulsating spray of water beat down on his neck and head.

Evening, Mel, he said over the running water.

Mel swung around at the sound. Before he could get a sound out of his mouth, the knife came up and stabbed him in the chest. Terror and pain were warring with each other on Mel’s face as the knife was brought up again and thrust into his body.

Mel backed into the corner of the shower, putting his hands and arms up to ward off the knife. But it was relentlessly held up and thrust down into his body over and over, slicing through organs and bouncing off bone. He knew he was going to die, so he looked up into the face of his assailant and whispered, Why?

You know why was the answer as the knife came down one last time in a wide arc and slit his throat.

All the rage that had built up against this man quickly dissipated, and the intruder was left feeling sickened and exhausted. He looked at Mel half-sitting, half-lying on the shower floor. He and Mel went back a long way, and he was saddened that their friendship had come to this. He didn’t have long to dwell on the past because he could hear Cassie calling Mel’s name. She had come into the bedroom, looking for him. She gave a quick knock on the bathroom door before opening it and finding herself staring into the eyes of Mel’s best friend and partner, Derrick.

Cassie had the most comical look on her face. Derrick could read all the questions as they crossed her beautiful face. Her eyes were big as saucers and she kept opening and closing her mouth but no words came out. Derrick knew she was thrown for a loop and was trying to figure out what was going on.

Cassie, Derrick said bowing from the waist.

Derrick! What… I mean how… Cassie left the question hanging in the air as she looked in the direction of the shower. Mel must have been taking a very hot shower because steam was pouring out of the open door. As she looked closer, Cassie realized that Mel was sitting on the shower floor.

She turned her eyes back to Derrick and realized that he was standing stark naked in front of her. She opened her mouth to speak but couldn’t put a complete thought together.

Mel had not moved or made a sound during the few minutes that Cassie had been in the bathroom. Cassie thought he must have passed out. Looking over at the shower, she found herself mesmerized by the swirling water around the drain. She couldn’t figure out what was different, so she stepped closer to get a better look. It was then that she realized that she was watching Mel’s blood swirling and mixing with the water as it went down the drain.

Mel! Oh god, what happened! she screamed. She shoved her way past Derrick and ran over to the shower to find out where Mel had been injured.

He must have passed out and hit his head on the floor, she yelled over the running water.

Derrick, go into the bedroom and call 911! she screamed.

Reaching into the shower, she turned off the water. Then she squatted down beside Mel and saw all the stab wounds. As she lifted his head, it rolled to one side. She thought it was going to roll off into her outstretched hands. She stared in horror at the large gaping wound in Mel’s neck. She looked down and saw that she had Mel’s blood all over her clothes and hands. Sputtering and gagging, she started backing out of the shower. Her brain shut down, and she couldn’t think. She wasn’t sure if she was going to pass out or vomit or do both. The scream was caught in her throat somewhere between the vomit and the air she was trying to suck in.

Calling 911 isn’t going to do Mel any good, Cassie, Derrick casually replied. Besides, we really don’t want the cops involved just yet.

She turned her tear-filled, questioning eyes up to Derrick. He had come up behind her and was standing over her with a large hunting knife. Derrick was holding the knife in the air, as if he was going to strike her with it.

Derrick, what’s going on? she finally asked. Why aren’t you wearing any clothes? What have you done? Why? Mel was your best friend—your partner, for heaven’s sake.

It’s really too bad that you came in here looking for Mel. Derrick said ignoring Cassie’s question. Now you are going to have to join him.

Cassie couldn’t believe that this was the friend that she and Mel had known for so many years. Mel and Derrick had gone to college together. Derrick was the best man at their wedding. And here he was, talking about Mel’s murder with as little concern as if he had just squashed a bug with a rolled-up newspaper. Cassie knew she had to get out of there. Her plan was to run past Derrick to the door so she could run out.

Derrick seemed to sense what she was planning. Just as she took the first step to run past him, he lashed out and hit her square in the throat with the side of his hand. She fell back to the floor beside Mel, barely able to breathe. Derrick grabbed her by the hair and an arm and yanked her to her feet. He pulled her out of the shower and shoved her, face-first, down to the floor.

Cassie saw the tile floor coming toward her as if she were watching in slow motion. She couldn’t do anything to stop it. She couldn’t even scream because of the blow to her throat inflicted by Derrick. A blinding white flash burst through her brain from the pain of the impact. And then there was nothing.

The impact with the floor broke Cassie’s nose and left a big knot on her forehead. She