The Salvador Dalí Formula: a gripping psychological intellectual thriller by D. Labovich

Author:D. Labovich [Labovich, D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sea Union Publishing
Published: 2023-03-20T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 40

A red and black Evoque parked in front of the former Old George hotel in Salisbury. Redstone crossed the wooden bridge over a wide part of the Avon River, hoping he didn’t find Detective Collins in the Wilson house. He passed a few small, closed shops and a tea chalet. He continued to the right over another little bridge and came to a narrow street. Redstone stopped in front of a house with a small overgrown yard.

The wooden fence was rotting while a blue For Sale sign made creaking noises as it swayed in the wind like a scarecrow. The red bricks were moldy, the roof was overgrown with moss, and a thick layer of rotting leaves and dust covered the window frames. The scene looked like a cemetery, with the frosty morning wind howling like a lone wolf.

He tried to open the door, but it wouldn’t budge. Redstone moved to the other side of the house. He kicked open the thin door leading to the kitchen. The once-tidy house was the aftermath of a police investigation. Flies were glued to the yellow crime scene tape, dirty gloves were strewn about in trash bags, and a pair of discarded chalk sat next to a dead mouse.

Thirty years had passed. He headed up the stairs. On the night of the tragedy, Bonnet had something in his hand. Something that made the courier come to his house. The stream of doubt was clearing.

Redstone glanced at the beams on the ceiling and the torn, colorful wallpaper that resembled lettuce. The smell of rot coming from the damp walls reached his nose. He regretted coming here. He was hiding from the police for so many years, yet now he was playing the role of a detective. Redstone felt guilty about lying to the police. He had rescued Wilson that night moments before the police arrived at the crime scene. But Wilson was the key target.

He entered the bedroom door at the top of the stairs. A few books, a pair of photo albums, a gilded pen, and a small broken compass lay on the desk. Redstone put on his leather gloves and flipped through the crumbling pages. They were scientific dissertations in quantum physics. Redstone would have never thought someone had come to the house after all these years, if it hadn’t been for the courier.

Voices came from outside. Redstone went to the window. He had a view of the neighboring red brick wall. The hardwood floor downstairs creaked. Redstone cautiously walked to the door. Like in a horror movie, he got the impression someone was watching him.

Redstone turned to the left and noticed a framed photograph on the wall. It was the last Christmas photo of the young couple and their ten-year-old son. The boy’s face looked familiar. Redstone took his glasses out of his pocket and took a closer look at the boy; his blue, expressive eyes, dark hair, and dimple on the chin. The resemblance was astonishing.

“Oh, my God. Oh, my God.

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