Murder On The Waterway: The Case Of The Kanaima Demon

Chapter Twenty

The house's interior had an eerie atmosphere, with a chaotic mess hinting at the troubled life that had unfolded within its walls. Although the place appeared empty, a sense of unease settled over me like a heavy shroud.

Michael was busy exploring a large glass cabinet in the far corner of the room. It was made of deep mahogany and held a collection of ornaments, dusty-looking books, and trinkets related to past expeditions. The room was a curious mix of items, some of which seemed ancient, possibly collected during Mr Kumar's various pursuits.

Pictures of Mr and Mrs Kumar adorned the cherry-red wooden fireplace, portraying happier times. The photographs appeared dated and had an almost archaic quality to them, making me wonder if they were associated with Mr Kumar's hidden endeavours.

The scent in the house was musty and old, and I hadn't noticed it as prominently before. Stacks of books, some reaching thigh-high, were scattered throughout the lounge. They seemed to creep into the kitchen and an unusual door that looked dirtier than the rest.

The room had an eclectic mix of furniture, none of which matched. An overturned beach-coloured coffee table revealed a crumpled, multi-coloured rug beneath it. The rug had a thin, religious-like appearance reminiscent of Egyptian or Arabian design, although I couldn't be certain.

As Michael examined an old leather-bound book with a mysterious cover, I inched closer to see what had captured his interest. The book appeared locked, and I couldn't say I was surprised; nothing in this case had been straightforward.

But as we moved around the room, my foot brushed against a floorboard beneath the thin rug. The noise it produced, although subtle, caught our attention, and we exchanged a few seconds of uncertain glances. It could have been nothing more than an old, creaky floorboard.

"Check that side," I suggested, directing Michael to investigate. The mysterious book still engrossed him, but we needed to focus on finding any potential links in the case. Our earlier conversation about the impending blood moon was weighing heavily on my mind, and I could sense that Michael was thinking about it, too.

After a moment of reluctance, he released his grip on the book and moved to the corner of the rug adorned with cream tassels. As we inspected the wooden floor beneath, we found a subtle difference – a lighter and cleaner section of hardwood beneath the otherwise aged and worn floor.

"What do you think he's hiding?" Michael asked.

"Your guess is as good as mine," I replied, dropping to my knees to get a closer look at the floorboard. It was a small, inconspicuous area, measuring around fifteen centimetres by five or six. A quick application of my claws and gentle prying revealed a hidden compartment. The act produced a muted squeak as the panel was loosened.

Inside the compartment, I found three keys with small blue tags, each bearing 72 in white writing.

"Is this it?" Michael inquired, reaching out to take the keys from my hand.

"I believe so," I confirmed. "But it's the second time recently I've come across the number 72. It was also mentioned in 'Walters' diary, 'Berth 72.' Do you think there's a connection?"

"Berth? Not like 'birth'?" Michael questioned.

"I'm not sure," I admitted. "It might have a specific meaning. Perhaps it's related to boats or water. So far, everything in this case seems tied to the water."

"Right," Michael agreed as he held onto the keys. "We should take these with us."

With the keys secured, I continued to inspect the room, spotting an open cardboard folder filled with newspaper clippings. The partial title on display caught my attention: "Police Officers in the House of Horrors." Michael grabbed the folder, and his expression turned to one of frustration. The pages of the folder contained detailed articles about the events of the past month, focusing on Andy and me, as well as speculations about my foster brother.