It was the sunrise that woke me. Laying on the sodden mattress in the bedroom that I had made my own, my head pounded with what felt like the worlds worst hangover and there was a bitter taste in my mouth like I'd been chain smoking cheap tobacco and drinking pond water all night long.

Had it all been a bad dream? The events did seem rather fantastical, defying common logic and then suggesting there was the most beautiful murderer I'd ever seen living under the house was just absurd. I laughed to myself at how real it had all felt: The tunnels, the girl, the murder, our brief conversation and the way she kissed me as she placed something in my hand.
Realising at that moment that my hand was still clenched, stiff like rigor mortis had set in, protecting whatever was hidden inside like my life depended on it. I loosened my grip slowly, every muscle ached as I uncoiled my fingers. There in my palm lay a small brass key, it was tiny, no more than half an inch in length.

What was its significance? I had no idea, I hadn't even explored the Maybrick property entirely let alone found anything worth unlocking. I placed the key on top of the bedside dresser and made my way carefully down the hallway toward the bathroom. Surely seeing the bathtub and its condition would confirm my doubts.
The bathroom door made an unnatural moan as it opened it, and a small breeze brushed past but other than that the bathroom was all intact as I suspected. It was still unsanitary and unusable but everything was in place, especially the bath tub which was still filled to the brim with grimy water, which left nothing but soot and wadded paper pulp at the bottom as I allowed the water drain.

Just a dream. Either that or there are some serious toxins emanating from the various species of fungi growing about the place.

I needed to clean this shit pile up. Gut it from head to toe and start all over again from scratch and explore the place while doing so.
I'd seen a small township on the way to the estate (while in the taxi) which wasn't too far to walk, so I headed off on foot early In hopes of avoiding the afternoon sun.
There was still a sullen feeling outside of the house despite the glow of the morning light. Again there was not even a hint of an insect chirping nor a bird calling. It made me wonder if even God had forgotten about this place or whether there was something that all his creatures great and small knew that I didn't.

As I left the front gates to the Estate I was chilled with a welcomed summer breeze. The sound of the rustling leaves on trees near by broke the silence followed by the sound of nature coming alive.
I stopped and watched a formation of Geese fly in the direction of the Maybrick property. It was pleasant to see signs of life and signs of normality - or at least I thought. The Geese flew towards the property, however upon reaching a certain point they abruptly changed direction as if struck by an unseen force field. A cacophony of warning calls from the front of the formation alerting those behind whom made an equal amount of shrieks back. Was it a sign of bad weather up ahead or were they avoiding something on the property, or the property itself?

I reached town just short of an hours walk from the house. It was just like in an old western movie. The wind blew loose dirt and dust in every direction and the main road would have seemed deserted had it not been for the sight of a rooster chasing a hen, and an old dog following me with its eyes as it shaded itself under a rusty pick-up truck.
Many of the stores appeared to be closed, the hardware store included, which had a sign above it simply reading : "Ketch's hardware - can't find it here....won't find it hardly anywhere". The sign was obviously weathered and looked as though it hadn't had a fresh lick of paint since being put there in the first place. I looked through the dusty shop window to see if there were any signs of it opening up but there didn't appear to be any.
"Can I help y'all" came a voice from across the road. He spoke with an dribbley speech impediment and the reasons for that were plain to see. Across the dirt road stood a sweaty, unshaven man, perhaps in his late thirties - early forties. His face bright red with either too many hours in the sun or too many hours on the bottle and his mouth drooped with an obvious lack of teeth and jaw structure to hold it up.
"The Hardware store, what time does it open?" I replied.
"We don't git many strangers out here that often" He said as he adjusted his tattered truckers cap and squinted. He stared at the ground for some time kicking the dirt, I thought he ignored my question until he answered "The Ketch boys'll be in church till noon, you can come back then". He turned to walk back inside the building he came from.
"Wait" I called "it's an hours walk back to the estate, is there anywhere I can go around here to wait until noon?"
The man turned back towards me and rubbed his bristly chin. "Estate? you mean the Charles Maybrick Estate?" He asked, as if he had some knowledge of the place "best y'all c'mon in then you can wait with me, I'll fetch you sommin' to drink". He beckoned for me to follow him through the doors to what was obviously the local drinking hole where yet another flaky sign embellished with a 1950's pin up girl and the name : "Lady Belles Bar and Gentleman's Club". There were similar posters displayed outside, some may have been of Betty Paige or someone who looked very similar, but I really couldn't be too sure as It was an era well past my time.

The inside of the bar was pretty much paint by numbers. Nothing more from what you'd see or expect from a bar out in the middle of nowhere. Sticky wooden floors, pool tables galore, duke box ( that may or may not be in working condition ), and bar stools that looked as though they'd had a million asses on them in their lifetime. The only added bonus to this bar was a curtained stage with strippers poles at either side and a catwalk that nearly ran right up to the bar.
I sat down on one of the vinyl cushioned bar stools and rested an elbow at the bar while taking in the seedy charm of the place.
"So, what'll it be?" Said the man as he shuffled his way behind the counter.
"Jack, on the rocks please" was my reply as I observed behind the counter and noted a lack of mixers.
"Jack? wha' the fuck you on city boy, who the fuck is Jack and why the fuck would he be on the rocks?" He shook is head and chuckled to himself showing a toothless grin. I mean was this guy for real or was he
really that backwards? Without being too sure I replied simply "Ummm....make it a Whiskey.....Bourbon or whatever, with ice".
He laughed again "Are you deaf or summin' shit for brains, we don't serve that kinda horse piss 'ere" he dribbled spit as he spoke and wiped it off his chin with the back of his hand.
"Pick again numb nuts" he said with a slight grumble to his tone. Being the smart ass that I am I tested by saying " I'll have a glass of your finest house red" expecting a barrage of abuse for even suggesting such a thing.
"Now you're talking son" he said to my surprise and shuffled out back behind the bar. He returned with a dark coloured, dusty bottle. A thick cobweb trailed from its cork as he swooped the bottle down on the bar. He dusted off the label and rotated the bottle by the neck to face me.
"Now, you say'n you're from the Maybrick Estate?" The amateur looking label on the bottle clearly stated Maybrick Estate Winery.

"This here is a very special reserve" He said with a proud grin "this 'ere bottle must be over a hundred years old, I was gonna keep it for a special occasion and all but seens as we be neighbours an'all I figure now's a good a time as any. Plus I'm sure you're bound to find me some sorta replacement up there in that ol' house of yours" His gaze drifted off into no where for a second, "rumour has it there's plenty to be uncovered there in that house"

He popped the cork and poured the dark red liquor into a semi-clean wine glass and pushed it across the bar toward me.

"yep there's plenty a story to be told"



To be continued......

Next Issue: The Bartenders Story