Sins Of The Past Part 7
By: P.G. Barnett
Tags: Short Story, Fiction, Henry And Sunny, Fiction Series, Short Fiction

My name is Sunny Alexander-Johnson. And I’m Henry James, and we’re writers for Dark Sides of the Truth magazine.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

The idea to find Dr. Hickom’s home and poke around was a good one but had its particular drawback. It’s not like we were willing to ask the police department where the man lived, and we doubted Judy was going to give us the doctor’s address simply because we asked for it.

However, we had a couple of tools at our disposal who could give us what we needed. A quick call to the offices of Robert Johnson and Manny Hermanos and a brief conversation with the cyber twins Donnie Martin and Becca Wu, and we got what we needed.

Ten minutes later, we cruised past the deceased doctor’s house, spying the tale-tell strips of yellow and black tape blocking entry through the front door. We parked several houses down then slowly walked along the sidewalk, viewing the surrounding neighborhood for signs of life. The house, built on a corner lot, offered a view of the street on one side, and a neighboring house on the other. After satisfying ourselves, our stroll was unobserved, we veered off the sidewalk and walked along the side of the house.

And that’s when we reached our first challenge. From the back edge of the house to the property line sat a wooden fence. In the middle of the expanse of the fence was a gate. Hanging from the gate’s handle was a lock. A lock that could only be opened by moving four numbered wheels to the correct combination.

“Ah, shit. It had to be one of these.”

“Can’t you just pick it?”

“No, Henry, I can’t just pick it. See these numbers on these wheels and the four hash marks?”

“Of course, I see them.”

“The only way to unlock it is to line up the correct number sequence.”

“Shit. We could be here all day. And there’s no way I’m going to try and skinny over this damn fence. Not in my condition.”

“Think Henry. The Fixer probably knew we’re going to check out the doctor’s house. Hell, for all we know, the Fixer already knew the doctor was dead. I think we already have the code. We just didn’t know it at the time.”

“19,6,496,4,6 — Don’t just look for the gold, look into it.”

“Exactly.”

“Okay, princess. Try the first four digits.”

“Nope.”

“9,6,4,9, maybe?”

“Again, no. Hang on Henry, let me think.”

“Hurry up. We’re sticking out like a sore thumb here.”

“Just stifle it for a minute, old man.”

Fifteen seconds later and after a hard yank on the base of the lock, it sprang open, and we quickly moved into the back yard of the doctor’s house.

“What was it?”

“6,4,6,4.”

“Obvious.”

“To me, maybe. You? Not so much.”

“Bite me, Johnson.”

As we skirted the edge of a pool and headed toward the back door, we saw a dog house beneath a large shade tree in the back. Aside from the dog house, and food and water bowls sitting on the wood deck beside the back door, we didn’t see any evidence of a dog hanging about.

We’d never even thought about the doctor having an animal in the back yard. We guessed someone had seen to it to the doctor’s animal had been taken from the premises so it could be cared for properly.

“We need to thank our lucky stars we don’t have to deal with a dog. It could have been a Dobberman or something. I think we both need to buy some lottery tickets after this. Did you bring your lock pick shit?”

“Got it right here, James. You know I never leave home without it.”

“What. You practicing for an American Express commercial or something? Just pick the damned lock, and let’s get inside.”

“Damn James get a grip, will you?”

We heard a subtle click as the door lock moved back and then let ourselves in. Fortunately for us, the electricity company hadn’t yet been informed of the doctor’s demise. Stepping into a large kitchen area, we noticed a light still on beneath the vent hood over the stove, We grabbed a hand towel from the stove handle then searched for another hand towel and after finding it, began a systematic search through the house.

“What are we looking for, Henry?”

“We’ll know when it finds us.”

When we found the doctor’s office, we realized that’s where he’d been when he’d been killed. If the room, seemingly reduced to shambles, didn’t tell us this office was ground zero, the bloodstains on the floor and the splatters of blood on the wall behind the desk did.

“You think they found what they were looking for?”

“Whatever it was? No clue, princess? Let’s take a look.”

Books had been pulled from a set of bookshelves and tossed haphazardly on the floor. Almost every drawer in the doctor’s desk had been yanked out, the contents dumped on the floor, and the drawers tossed aside. There was an empty spot on the desk where we guessed a computer had once sat, the monitor attached to it yanked across the desk when whoever grabbed the computer and ripped it away.

While one of us inspected the remaining books in the bookshelf, the other began checking the sheaves of papers scattered all over the floor.

“Henry?”

“Yeah.”

“What exactly did the Fixer say about gold?”

“Don’t just look for the gold. Look into it?”

“Look at this.”

“Gold’s Storage? This looks like an invoice for some storage facility here in Lebanon. Look into the gold? As in find the doctor’s storage shed and look inside?”

“This is freaking creepy, Henry. If this is what the Fixer meant, then he knew we’d come to the doctor’s house. He was counting on us finding this and tying what he said to this.”

“Which means again, whoever this Fixer is, they know more than they’re willing to let on.”

“And using us as pawns in some kind of sick game.”

“Sounds like the Fixer we know and love don’t it princess?” Let’s go see what kind of Gold we can find.”

Read On — Sins Of The Past Part 8

Let’s s keep in touch: P.G. & Sharon Barnett (paul@pgbarnett.com)

© P.G. Barnett, 2020. All Rights Reserved.