A Honeybun in Hell by Sam Cheever

Author:Sam Cheever
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: suspense, thriller, action and adventure, Halloween, horror, paranormal mystery, supernatural mystery
Publisher: Sam Cheever
Published: 2013-09-03T00:00:00+00:00

WILLIAM PLAITHE WAS indeed dead. The hotel manager was arranged tidily on top of a grave site, his long limbs settled as if he were laid in a coffin. His dusty, brown hair was still slicked back into its immobile, plastic-like coif, making him look as if he’d risen right out of the grave below where he lay.

Brita illuminated the weathered limestone above his head with the flashlight beam and read the inscription. “Joshua Hellsworth, Beloved husband of Cyndi.” She glanced at Detective Tim Ward, Hell’s borrowed plain clothes detective, “You know anything about this guy?” She swung the light over the headstone again to indicate she meant the buried dead guy rather than the super terra one.

Ward’s easy smile flashed, his gaze never leaving her face as he nodded. “Everyone around here knows about the Hellsworths. The town was named after them.” He jerked his head toward the stone. “Joshua and Cyndi Hellsworth were murdered several decades ago. They were buried here just like all their ancestors.” He pointed to an empty spot next to Cyndi Hellsworth’s grave. “Their son was to be buried there, but nobody ever found the body.”

Brita frowned. “Body? He’s assumed dead then?”

Ward nodded. “He disappeared in 1949. The body was never found but his abandoned car was, alongside the river, and there was blood all over the front seat and dashboard. It was his blood.”

“Strange that the body was never found.”

“Yeah it is strange. But the cops just figured that whoever killed him dumped the body in the river.”

“Makes sense.” Despite her words, Brita’s face was filled with doubt.

“But you don’t believe it?”

“Seems a bit too tidy doesn’t it?”

Ward shrugged.

Brita’s flashlight beam travelled over the dead hotel manager. “Any guess on cause of death?”

Ward pointed to dark finger marks on the dead man’s throat. “Strangulation?”

Brita slipped a rubber-gloved finger over the purple marks. “Could be. Or he could have just been throttled until he passed out. It’s a pretty easy way to subdue someone.”

“True. I guess the coroner’s report will tell us.”

Nodding, Britta indicated a dark line along the bottom of Plaithe’s trousers. “What do you make of that?”

Ward knelt beside Plaithe’s body carefully examining the cuffs of the man’s dark slacks, they were gray and stiff, covered with something that looked like brine. “I’d say he’s been in the catacombs recently.” Leaning down, he sniffed the man’s slacks. “Smells like mildew and fish. So I’d say he was close to the river.”

Brita expelled a breath. “I thought you’d searched the catacombs.”

Standing back up, Ward shook his head. “We searched the ones we know about, but tunnels and caves run like veins underneath Hell and along the river. There could be hundreds of miles of tunnels here that we haven’t found yet.”

“Whoever placed him here had to have carried him. That would take a certain amount of strength. That also tells me the catacomb we’re looking for has to be nearby.”

“You’re right. We’ll have to search them again.”

Brita cast her eyes toward the sound of rushing water in the near distance.

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