Deadly Cheese Lovers

Deadly Cheese Lovers

  Dane Theodore

  Copyright 2012 Dane Theodore

  All Rights Reserved

  ISBN: 978-1-4658-3317-4

  For William and Debbie

  Michael and Sarah Harroway stood in the chilly autumn breeze on the doorstep of what they hoped would be their new home. The man who owned the home, an old rustic looking fellow by the name of Cornelius Dirk, had taken weeks to get a hold of. Once they had, he’d been slippery at best. They’d made the drive from New York City to Vermont three times, only to have him cancel the meeting at the last minute.

  Michael and Sarah were both in their late 20s, and still wet behind the ears as far as Cornelius wagered. He didn’t know much about the Harroways, but he knew enough. Michael had risen from a grease monkey in his own auto shop to an executive owner of what was now a chain of auto body shops New York wide. He could work out of a house now, away from the hustle and bustle of the concrete jungle.

  Cornelius grimaced. They probably thought it was wonderfully picturesque and quaint to get a countryside house in rural Vermont. His disgust with their outside ways and cliché decision to retire from the city to the country was certainly present, but it wasn’t the reason he didn’t want to sell them the house. He didn’t like them, but he didn’t wish them the misfortune that would inevitably befall them if he let them move in.

  “Now look here,” Cornelius said, “You don’t want this house. I’m askin’ you to reconsider. Nothin’ good ever come from this place.”

  Michael flashed a cocky grin, as only a millionaire still in their second decade of life could. “Are you saying it’s haunted, Mr. Dirk?”

  “I don’t know nothin’ about that, Mr. Harroway,” Cornelius responded. “All I know is that everyone I let move into this place didn’t have a happy ending.”

  Michael wrapped his arm around Sarah. “Oh? What we are talking, here? They couldn’t make ends meet and became destitute? They became dreadfully sick and passed away? They had seven years bad luck? What? I don’t believe in ghosts or bad luck. I don’t believe in old wives tales, either. Those are for superstitious drunks and country bumpkins.”

  Cornelius shook his head. Hopeless. “Listen. I don’t have to sell you this home. The only reason I might is because my old ma and da passed away and I got two funerals to take care of, not to mention hospital bills that’d make Jesus weep. I’m 65 years old and got more important things on my platter than trying to bargain with a cocky flatlander. So I’m going to tell you something, and you’re gonna listen.”

  Michael tapped his foot and looked impatient, but Sarah looked at him with undivided attention and interest.

  Cornelius continued. “The last couple I rented this place to didn’t come out alive. The husband was found on the floor missing all of his fingers and toes, along with his Adam’s apple. His wife was found dead of suffocation, but the autopsy revealed nothing in her throat, no water in her lungs, and nothin’ toxic in her blood stream.”

  Sarah piped in. “Maybe he suffocated her with a pillow or something.”

  “No, ma’am. His time of death was three hours before hers. As for their three-month-old infant, she was never found.”

  Sarah gasped.

  “Before them it was an old single man that moved in. Wife died some years back and he wanted to get away to the country, just like you folks. They found him dead in his bed, with the only wound bein’ through his belly button. A hole the size of a kiwi, but his guts was torn all up inside. From his gallbladder to his heart.”

  Sarah was clearly disturbed. “Don’t believe this horseshit, Sarah. It’s all lies,” Michael said. “He just doesn’t want us to move in.”Michael was livid, and his normally arrogant visage was the color of a ripe tomato. “Shut up, mister. Just shut up. You’re upsetting my wife.”

  “As well I should be, Mr. Harroway, as well I should be. You ought to be a little put-off yourself, seeing as how these stories are true. Have you heard enough, Mrs. Harroway? Or do you want to hear about what happened to the first couple I let live here? They were your ages, or close enough to not matter. Same circumstances, even.”

  Michael looked at Sarah pleadingly. “Don’t listen, Sarah. This is our dream house, you even chose this place! It has a gorgeous view, and when we decide we want to have kids, it’ll be—"

  “Shut up, Mike. Let me hear what he has to say.” Michael shut his mouth and looked downward. “I’m sorry Mr. Dirk, please continue,” Sarah said.

  Cornelius looked grateful, and made a gesture of tipping his hat, even though he wasn’t wearing one. “Yes, ma’am. Last couple that come to live here were very nice, from over in New Hampshire. The wife was seven months pregnant at the time she died. Anyway, they didn’t find anything but skeletons. All the flesh, tendons, everything, was stripped. No sign of her baby, either. They looked like they belonged on an archaeological display, even though they they’d been seen in town two days before they died.”

  Sarah pursed her lips and looked Cornelius in the eye. Her voice quivered as she spoke. “Tell me right now that this is a joke. Tell me you’re just trying to spook us so we won’t buy the house.” Tears filled her eyes, and the glossy coating reflected the setting sun.

  “Wish I could, ma’am.”

  She looked to her husband, who had calmed down considerably and was even showing a bit of amusement.

  “Show us the police reports,” Michael said.

  “Don’t got ‘em,” Cornelius responded curtly.

  “Oh, how convenient. Well, we’ll just head down to the station and ask for them. Surely so many deaths in one town would be reported to the local law enforcement.”

  “Won’t do ya no good. They won’t show you, won’t even acknowledge anything happened.”

  “And why is that?”

  Cornelius snorted. “Don’t know. They wouldn’t give them to me, and I own the place. Near as I can reckon, they don’t want people knowing about it. Vermont, and this area especially, gets a lot of tourism. Bad for the business.”

  “Well, near as I can reckon,” Michael spat, “You’re just full of happy horse shit. Making it look like you won’t sell so we up the offer. I’ll tell you what, I’ll give you an extra 25 thousand in cash up front if you sell.

  Cornelius thumbed his nose. “Supposin’ I say no? Supposin’ I want you folks to live, and that your lives are worth more to me than an extra 25 thousand?”

  “Just stop with that, okay? It’s crap. There’s no police report. No report, no crime. Nothing happened, so spare us your Good Samaritan bullshit and make a decision.

  Fair enough. What happened to them wasn’t his concern anymore. At least that’s what he told himself.

  Cornelius nodded. “You got yourself a deal. I can have the papers ready by tomorrow. You can move in when you like. Will you be here tomorrow?”

  Michael nodded. “We’re staying at our hotel tonight. We’ll be here tomorrow morning.”

  Hopefully with 250 green papers with Ben Franklin’s lovely mug on them.

  “Yup.” That’s all Cornelius said before he walked down the cobblestone path to his pick-up truck.

  He pitied them more than anyone he’d met before. But oh, he sure did need the money.

  One Month Later

  Michael and Sarah finally got settled in their new home. With two floors, four baths, and five bedrooms, it was more room than they needed before they started having children, which Michael secretly hoped wouldn’t happen for at least a few more years.

  They were sitting down to a dinner of sautéed asparagus; white beans with tomato, basil, and Swiss chard; bowls filled with oriecchietti with lentils, onions, and spinach, and even bigger bowls brimming with a stew of mushroom, tofu, and brown rice
.

  “I kind of want some meat,” Sarah muttered.

  Michael put his spoon back in his bowl of stew and looked up at her. “Why? It’s terrible to kill and eat animals, and it’s bad for the environment. We have to do our part, Sarah. Come on, you know that.”

  “But this is hard. I grew up on meat. I love meat. It’s delicious. This rabbit food doesn’t fill me up the same way. I need protein.”

  Michael sighed. “Vegetables have protein. Beans, rice, spinach, all of those do.”

  “Not a lot. Besides, I read about amino acids. Meat has all the essential ones, veggies don’t.

  “Look, can we just drop this and talk about it later? We have to discuss how we’re going to deal with your mother in two weeks.”

  Sarah’s eyes opened wide in surprise. “Deal with my mother? She’s something so bad we have to deal with her now?”

  This is going to get bad, Michael thought. “I didn’t mean it that way, okay? I’m sorry.”

  “What did my mother ever do to you? Hmm?

  Don’t get into this right now. Not now, Mikey. “Well, how about the time the old witch told me I was filthy? And that if I ever wanted to marry you I should wash myself with pure lye and bleach every day?”Oh well. Here cometh the shit storm.

  “You were filthy!”

  “I just got off work! I did work in an auto shop, you know.”

  “You couldn’t have washed your hands?”

  “I could’ve. But that wouldn’t wash away my sins for being catholic, would it? ‘All Catholics are heathens and go to Hell’ I believe she said.”

  “Yes, my mother is an over-religious and terribly abrasive nag, but get over it. Grow up, Mike. At least my mother didn’t refuse to meet you in the first place.”

  “My mom doesn’t believe in divorce.”

  “I was married to him for all of three months and I divorced him because he beat me. But I guess that’s encouraged in Catholicism, isn’t it?”

  “Alright, enough!”

  * * *

  “What do you suppose they’re going on about, Ginger?” Victor asked.

  “Sounds like they’re just arguing about their mums,” Ginger replied.

  “Yes, well, I know how that goes. It took me two years after Violet and I got married before I softened her mother’s heart.”

  Ginger giggled. “Everyone knows the story of how she beat you off with a broom the first time you went to meet her. Poor old Nitty, she won’t hardly be missed, least not by me. Meanest mouse in the whole township, she was. What do you think, Krum?”

  Krum was a large, brutishly built mouse with a deep voice and a missing eye. “Oh, stop with the bloody small talk and pay attention,” Krum said, clearly annoyed. “Look at 'em. I’ll never understand humans; they’re eatin’ all that crap when there’s perfectly good cheese to be had.”

  “I say, how do you know there’s cheese?” Victor asked. “We haven’t investigated their larder, yet.”

  “It’s called a store, ya nincompoop. Anyone of 'em can go there any time they please and get whatever kind of cheese they want from it. But instead, these numbskulls bring back a bunch of beans and leaves.”

  Victor squinted skeptically. “Are you implying that they don’t have a town larder, and that food isn’t rationed out according to the supply? Seems rather absurd.”

  “It’s true, Vic,” Ginger confirmed in her high voice, “They don’t do things the way we does. I’ve 'eard of places called stores, but never been to one. I hear they have shelves and shelves of nothing but cheese.”

  “I’ll believe it when I see it,” Victor said.

  Krum’s tail raised out of anger. “Well until you bloody do, shut your yap and quit arguing. You’re only here because his Lordship asked me to take you along. I don’t know why he thought it’d be a good idea to bring along a pampered house mouse who ain’t seen nothing beyond his own stoop. If it weren’t for you being distantly related to him, you’d still be at home reading books and eating crumpets.”

  Victor clenched his fists, but Ginger could tell he was frightened. His voice wavering, Victor said, “Just because you served in the Royal Tail Corps doesn’t mean you have the right to talk to everyone any way you please. Maybe I haven’t seen combat, but it doesn’t make me an idiot. I do a lot for the Abbey in ways that don’t require me to wear a stupid-looking uniform.”

  Krum drew his sword from his sheath. “Don’t ever insult the Corps in front of me again if you value your life.”

  Victor gulped.

  Ginger ran over to Krum and put her hands on his shoulders. “Calm down, dearest, calm down. This isn’t worth spilling blood over.” She looked over at Victor. “Vic, just do what he says, yeah? We’re on a spy mission; we should be chummin’ with each other, not squabblin’.

  Victor nodded, and Krum reluctantly sheathed his sword.

  “Okay,” Krum said, “time for the task at hand. All we’ve gathered is that this couple is nothin’ more than a bunch of loathsome dunces. Harmless as far as I can tell, but we leave the judging to the Council of Ten. The main thing we got to figure out is whether or not they have a guardian.”

  “A guardian?” Victor asked.

  It surprised Ginger that Krum didn’t snap at Victor again. Instead he answered his question calmly.

  “Yeah, mate. A guardian. Cat kind.”

  Victor’s eyes opened wide. “A feline?”

  Krum chuckled. “Well don’t look so scared, it ain’t like you’re gonna have to deal with it.”

  “They keep them as guardians,” Ginger said. “In exchange for protecting them and killing all of our kind in the house, they give it food and shelter. Sometimes they even hold them on their lap and pet them.”

  Victor and Krum both let out a shudder.

  “Where do you and Violet live, Vic?” Ginger asked.

  “We live in the Abbey, the top level of the northwest tower. Why?”

  “No reason, just curious is all.” He must have never left that tower in order to not have any common knowledge of humans and cats, Ginger mused. She knew that he didn’t receive his education at the public Tutorium. Most people knew that Victor Talltooth was sickly as a child, and not as clever as an average mouse. She pitied him, but he seemed a nice enough sort. He was slow, but always polite and friendly. She was glad he came along.

  “So what do we do next, Krum?” Victor asked. “Do we investigate their larder?”

  Krum looked at Victor’s oversized belly. “No need. We can tell by lookin’ over there what they got. We got to scout for a guardian.”

  Victor looked disappointed. “Alright, then,” he said with a frown.

  They were standing on the countertop. They had come in to the kitchen from one of the tunnels that connected the main upper level of the house to their town, which was under the house.

  “I know the layout pretty well,” Krum said. “We’ll scurry down the counter and head that way into the parlor. I’ll go first.”

  With agility that didn’t match his stocky build, Krum was down on the floor in seconds. Ginger was soon standing by Krum, but it took Victor nearly half a minute before he was all the way down.

  “Follow me,” Krum whispered. They headed out of the kitchen and into the parlor. “Nothing here. We’ll take that hallway down to the living room. From there we’ll check out the foyer and the master bedroom.” The dimly lit chandelier illuminated the dark lacquer hardwood floors in shades of deep gold and rich chestnut.

  Victor stood in awe. “It’s so enormous. So pretty and unbelievable!”

  “Quiet!” Krum scolded. “We ain’t here to sight see, we gotta move fast.”

  They took the hallway to the living room. After finding nothing there, they moved on to foyer where they found nothing yet again.

  Victor raised his nose in the air and sniffed. “Smells like there’s some good cheese around here. It’s definitely coming from over here.” He went over to a shoe against the wall and peered down in it. “Yep, coming
from here.”

  Ginger giggled. “No cheese in there, Vic. He just ain’t washed his shoes in a rat’s age, is all.”

  Victor looked at her as if she’d spoken to him in ferret-tongue.

  “Look, we ain’t got time to explain. Just follow us and I’ll tell ya later.”

  “But it’s such a marvelous smell…”

  “Later, Vic. Let’s go.”

  They followed the north hallway out of the living room. At the end of the hall they reached an intersection. To the right was a door standing slightly ajar, and to the left the hallway ended in another intersection. Krum turned right toward the door. “That’s the master bedroom,” He whispered. “If Cat kind is around, there’s a good chance it’ll be in there. They’re lazy sods and love to lie in bed all day.

  Victor was visibly shaken. “So what’s the plan?”

  “Once we go in we’ll fan out. I’ll go left; Ging, you go straight; Vic, you go right. We’ll meet in the middle. If there’s a cat, run like the wind.”

  “Run where?” Victor asked.

  “Out of the room and down the hall all the way. Once you reach the intersection, turn right and there will be a staircase. To the right of that it looks like just a dead-end, but it’s not, it’s our only escape. At the corner where the two walls meet will be a small hole. It’ll take us home. Everyone ready?”

  “Ready,” Ginger said.

  “Ready,” Victor echoed.

  “Then let’s go.”

  They passed through the open door and saw a bed against the far wall. Krum, with a boldness that filled Victor with awe and Ginger with admiration, climbed to top of the bed. He scurried around the whole perimeter of the mattress before he climbed down. “Nothing,” He said.

  Ginger pointed to an open door that was on the right side of the room. “What’s in there?” she asked.

  “Just the loo,” Krum replied. “A cat wouldn’t be in there. They hate water. Besides, it’s just hard tiles and stainless steel. Cat kind don’t like it if they ain’t got something plush to hunker down on. Kind of like our ol’ pal Vic, eh?”

  They looked at Vic, hoping he could take the jest with a grain of salt. It must have been the most insulting thing ever said to him, because he was shaking like a leaf in autumn.

  “Oh, come now, love,” Ginger said sweetly. “It was only a little joke.”