Shades of Evil

WORD COUNT: 1,283

Tom stood there with his toes hanging precariously over the edge of the roof staring down at the stagnant pond below. He lingered for a moment longer, and then leaned forward, falling headfirst into the green, slimy water.

* * *

"I'm so sorry Mrs. Plummer," the young woman said, looking down at her notes a second time. Carly Mason, a second-year police officer, had been called to the Plummer residence only two hours before to investigate an apparent suicide. It was a far cry from the department she wanted to get into, but she knew only experience in the detective field would get her there.

Tom Plummer's broken body was on its way to the morgue, and she and Mrs. Marcia Plummer were now alone in the house.

"I just don't understand why he would do something like that...to c-c-ommit suicide?" Mrs. Plummer's voice trailed off as she cried into her lace hanky.

Carly's inquisitive stare darted about the room. Carefully watching as the older woman's gaze stopped at the far window that looked out over the unkempt pond, Mrs. Plummer's wrinkly fingers fumbled with the starched-stiff collar of her dress as several more tears slid down her shrunken cheeks.

"He just wasn't the type." The old woman sniffled and choked back another sob.

Making another note in her little black notebook, Carly stopped long enough to push her glasses back up; a constant battle she endured. "I hate asking this, but it is policy, mind you. Please understand," she murmured to the older woman.

Mrs. Plummer nodded before lowering her head.

The lilting voice of Al Martino singing Spanish Eyes cooed in the background. Marcia began humming to herself. Carly listened with mild curiosity before continuing her questioning.

"Was your husband depressed in any way?" The question produced a negative shake of the old woman's head. Carly wrote down her reaction; precise note taking was always the key in solving any crime, and in her view, this indeed felt like a crime. Flipping to a new page of her notebook, she propped the pen into her mouth and creased the center of the book. Taking the pen from between her teeth, Carly clicked it several times before placing it down upon the small coffee table.

"Might I bother you for a glass of water, Mrs. Plummer?" she asked, her fine-honed criminal instincts screaming that things just weren't right.

Marcia stopped humming. With a cold glare, she bit her lower lip.

Have I offended her? Carly was careful to hide her confusion.

The old woman stood, smoothing out imaginary creases from her dress. "Of course, I can get you a glass of water."

The hair on Carly's neck tingled. She watched Mrs. Plummer move toward the kitchen. The material of her black dress hissed like warring snakes. The sound made Carly shudder. She heard the faint clinking of glasses, the fridge door opening and closing, and then the sound of running water.

Mrs. Plummer emerged from the kitchen holding a glass out in front of her. "I hope it tastes okay. We seem to have a hard water problem lately."

When Carly took the cup, the old woman's hooded eyes flashed something cold and eerie behind its steel-like gaze. It was so fleeting that Carly pushed it aside, but she watched as Marcia made her way to the small couch. The shrouded expression on the old woman's face was one she recognized, but for the life of her, she could not recall from where.

Taking a timid sip of the water, she found that it did indeed taste bitter. She conveyed this to Marcia, who in turn, smiled for the first time, though it failed to reach her eyes.

"I hope so. I've never gotten it to taste quite right."

Carly stopped in mid-sip, her eyes opening wider than she thought possible. Every one of her instincts screamed to her of danger. Setting the glass down onto the small coffee table next to her pen, she realized the ballpoint had leaked, spreading bright blue ink all over her notes. Making an effort to stop the slight tremble in her hands, Carly reached for her notebook to clean it up and murmured, "Pardon me? I'm not quite sure I understood you." She dabbed at the ink with a piece of paper she'd torn off from the corner of her notes, creating an even bigger mess.

With vulture-like eyes, Marcia drew out a hanky from inside her sleeve, wiping at her face. "Is it hot in here ... yet?" she asked, her lips curling into a condescending sneer. The grin widened into a malevolent smile.

Carly began to tremble. It felt as if her heart was about to burst against the wall of her chest. She slumped back in her chair, the ink-stained paper falling to the floor unnoticed. Valiantly fighting to inhale any minuscule amount of oxygen within lungs that felt heavy as cement, confusion and terror filled her mind. Her face burned with heat that radiated through her entire body like cold fire. Grabbing at her throat that had now swollen three times its size, Carly's eyes bulged from their sockets. Before succumbing to unconsciousness, she saw Marcia pull out a rather odd shaped amulet hanging around her thin, bird-like neck. She grasped it tight within a hand that now looked like a claw. Carly's vision blurred as she spiraled down into the waiting arms of ebony blackness.

"Ooh, this is more fun than I could have ever imagined," Marcia cackled aloud while clapping her hands together like a child. Carly hacked one more time before sliding into a helpless heap onto the immaculate hardwood floor. The old woman's laugh sounded cruel, perforating the silence that now filled the expanse of the house.

"Well," the old woman said, catching her breath at last. "What to do now?"

The police officer lay in a stupor, barely able to hear Mrs. Plummer's next words.

"Looks like another unfortunate accident."

When Carly opened her eyes, she found herself standing on the edge of the roof looking down upon a stagnant pond below. She couldn't move an inch. The effects of whatever drug she'd been poisoned with had paralyzed every muscle.

"You don't think a helpless old woman like me is strong enough to get both you and my husband up here, do you?" The old woman leered. Errant strands of silver hair fluttered around her skeletal head like cobwebs caught in a breeze. "There is a lot to be said about power," Mrs. Plummer continued with a baleful glare. "Tom's death will be ruled a suicide and you...you poor thing, just lost your footing investigating up here. "I knew you'd come looking for me sooner or later. Carpe diem, my friend. You're the one who taught me that, remember? Or rather, your inept parents did."

Marcia's sinister chuckle carried on the breeze and Carly shuddered. My parents? Her mind collided with confusion and pain. It was then she saw what Marcia clenched in her bony fingers. The amulet! Carly tried to cry out, but nothing slipped past her numb lips.

Made from the blackest of metals, the amulet depicted a pentagram engraved with a ruby dagger at its center. It was the insignia of the very same cult her parents were involved with when they mysteriously disappeared some years back. It was the tantamount reason she became a police officer.

She stood there with her toes hanging precariously over the edge of the roof staring down at the stagnant pond below. Marcia extended two gnarled fingers out and gently eased her forward. Carly lingered for a moment longer, and then leaned forward, falling headfirst into the green, slimy water.