What Not To Do In The Valley

Meat House

People do not make good wallpaper. They also tend to block the drains.

John Doe had been struggling to balance both Kimber's case and the one he was officially supposed to be solve - the Meat House. 

The house had a very bad track record for keeping its residents alive. It sat on a foggy hedge-lined street with neighbours far away on either side. 

John strongly disliked the kitchen because of the garbage disposal. Upon investigating it for the first time, he turned it on and tried to stick his hand in it. Thank goodness for his work partner Aster. 

They'd barely figured out how much flesh was stuffed down the drains and through the sewage before that same house had yet another problem. 

John arrived to the house that day and could feel it in the air. It pricked up the hair on the back of his neck.

The basement was lined with mashed flesh flattened against the walls, floor and ceiling like thick wallpaper. The bones were ground up and mixed in - the only intact piece of the victims was a wedding ring. The dim old lights were tinged orange from the juices. 

They were still looking through the records of missing persons to see who it could have been. The neighbours saw nothing. 

He'd felt no draw to any of the equipment in the house, finding wheelbarrow tracks from the road to the front door. The two crimes in quick succession muddied his process. 

Aster said they'd look into the house's history while they were out sick. Jay hadn't seen them since, on account of getting shot on the weekend and staying over at Carver's place.

He didn't know how much this house craved blood. 

No human document could capture how much it hungered. 

John returned to the scene after sleeping for two days and thanking Carver for his hospitality. In his absence, the meat mix covering the ceiling had sloughed off in chunks. He sat on the basement stairs, waiting to get a feeling. 

The first crime had a semi-rushed approach to it. He could feel something about the pipes, and some of the flesh was stuck halfway in, or cut up with the kitchen tools. 

The second left wheelbarrow tracks from the house to the house to the sidewalk. He paced there, figuring a work van was used for transport. It reminded him of how the first crime gave him the thought of steel-toe boots. 

He considered finding every van in town when he had to sit down from intense pain. It had all come back at once. 

He crawled into the road and lay where the van could have been, trying to get some sort of feeling from it. Ground up meat and bones with shreds of clothes here and there, in buckets or bags of some sort. It was a lot to transport.

John waited for the pain to pass and walked down the roach to the neighbour's door. Their doorbell was worn and quiet, but they answered and he explained himself and asked what they remembered about the neighbours. If they had any plumbing problems or worked in the industry. 

The nice old lady sat him down in the living room and reminisced over the conversations had. The couple that owned the meat house weren't very friendly at all and didn't share that sort of thing, however, the houses on the street were prone to a lot of electrical issues.

She smiled and paused thinking about their death. 

"I hope the next person in that house has some good stories," She sighed. "I have a lot of tea and not many people to share it with."

John nodded thoughtfully. 

"Not many people that don't come bearing bad news..." She muttered. She went to her cabinet and brought out a pen and paper. "I'll give you the number for the electrician. He's the only one that comes to this street."

John took the paper and raised an eyebrow. The number was long enough to be two numbers, and he didn't even have a phone.

He thanked her and asked if he could use hers to make a call.

When he stepped outside to talk, he sat on the stairs and dialled Carver's number first. It was only his work number, so John didn't expect an answer - he wasn't even sure he remembered it right. He saw it a long time ago. 

 He'd first met Carver unknowingly interfering with a crime scene, so John was unsure if he continued to work since. He bit his lip remembering how angry he'd gotten at him and hoped it hadn't put him off. 

Carver answered and John was almost upset from the work spiel. 

"Hi..." 

"Detective? You scared me! Where are you?"

"I went to a crime scene. I just wanted to assure you I'm not calling the police or dead."

He heard Carver exhale softly. 

"You have my phone so of course I'm coming back," John promised. 

"You shouldn't be working in your condition."

"Don't worry, I'm here alone so nobody can see me limping."

Carver was silent. John didn't know how to end the call normally, but decided now would be a good time because it wouldn't interrupt anything.

John then called the electrician. 

He tried to fit in all the numbers she wrote and went about calling people. He was met with a voicemail for Husker Electrics. A one-man-owned business with very few clients. The message kept repeating how much they valued their customers.

John accidentally left a voicemail of silent breathing and then returned the phone to the old woman. He planned to walk to the library and research the company; if it wasn't too small to be known.

As he limped slowly down the street, a sleek black car drove down the road and stopped beside him. The driver got out and it was Carver, quickly approaching with an air of panic to him.

John crossed his arms tiredly, then wincing as his shoulder ached and his other arm touched the bullet wound, trying not to show it too much. "I told you I was coming back?"

"Please don't call the police," Carver begged. 

"I won't. I just didn't want to sit around in some stranger's house when I could be working."

Carver looked back to his car awkwardly. "Sorry... Your painkillers will probably run out soon."

John nodded. They wore off at four in the mourning, actually, but he hated to complain. "Have you heard of Husker Electrics?"

Carver shrugged. "I think I drove past the place a few times. I can show you when you're healed."

He gestured to the car and John begrudgingly followed. Staring through the windshield of the fancy car. It felt like a spaceship and he was not a fan. It looked easy to rob.

Carver started the car and John said, "If you go with me to Husker Electrics right now, I won't go out again until I'm normal. I'll say I caught Aster's flu."

They drove further into town. Carver side-eyeing him and tapping his fingers on the wheel. "It's up to you how soon you'll get more painkillers."