I took hold of the doorknob and pushed. Creaking mightily, the heavy door swung on its hinges. Inside was as dark as pitch. Shadowy shapes of loveseat, chairs, and tables appeared in the beam of my flashlight.
Something was wrong here. My uncle had asked me to come. He knew when I would arrive, but where was he?
Finding the light switch by the door, I pressed it and the crystal chandelier hanging from the ten-foot ceiling blazed, revealing a deserted parlor, silent and cold.
My flashlight no longer needed, I walked hesitantly through the parlor and into the dining room. A few coals glowed in the fireplace in the dining room, like red eyes winking at me. Uncle Javin and, I suppose, my grandparents before him, had used this large room as a combination living/dining area mostly because the fireplace made it warmer. In the summer, the family ate in the small sunroom just off the dining room or in the kitchen itself. I didn’t bother turning on other lights until I got to the kitchen.
“Uncle Javin!” I called, at first softly, then louder. “I’m here! Where are you?”
I flipped the light inside the kitchen door and the sudden brightness revealed that it looked exactly as I remembered it. Evidently, my uncle did not believe in updates or simply liked the kitchen the way it was. It was a small room with outdated fixtures, the kind featured nowadays in antique shops; however, those fixtures shone. A wood table with four chairs, gleaming white stove with yellow trim, small refrigerator and single porcelain sink, a yellow vinyl cabinet top free of clutter; but, there was no aroma of food or fresh-perked coffee. The room had an empty, unused feel.
Where was Uncle Javin? What should I do now? I gripped my cell phone in my coat pocket. Who should I call? What acquaintances were left in my home town?
Something brushed against my leg. I jumped and yelped. A small, gray cat gazed up at me with solemn, unblinking eyes and then commenced twining around my ankles.
Relief flooded me. At least there was something alive and moving in this silent house. I knelt down and ran my hand over the cat’s sleek fur.
“Are you hungry?” I asked softly. “Is your food dish empty?”
The cat arched her back and turned around to trot toward the laundry room.
Perhaps Uncle Javin had to leave for some reason before he put out food for his pet. Or maybe he lay somewhere in the house, injured or ill. He was, after all, elderly and he lived alone. Feeding the cat seemed to be top priority, then I would search every room until I either found my uncle or knew for certain that he was not here.
I followed the cat into the small room next to the kitchen.
A washer and dryer took up one wall. An ironing board lay on its side. My heart seemed to stop. Stretched out under the ironing board were two legs wearing tan corduroy pants.
My breath caught in my throat and I edged farther into the room. Half-hidden by the washer and ironing board, lay a man. One arm was outstretched, hand clenched. The other arm was under him. Blood seeped from an ugly, dark blotch on his brown checked shirt.
Excerpt from Moonlight Can Be Murder Pen-L.com
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