The Missing Piece [Discontinued]

Chapter Sixteen

            “Anything you need?” Matthew asked Bird after leading him to another bedroom. Bird stared at the stripped bed.

            “Yeah. Sheets. Blankets. A pillow,” Bird replied.

            “Oh,” Matthew stared at the bare bed, “that may be a problem.”

            “What? I have to sleep on a mattress?” Bird asked.

            “Well no one lives here and it’s not like I’ve slept in the past twenty or so years,” Matthew pointed out.

            “Fine. Better off than Joy, at least,” Bird mumbled.

            “G’night, buddy,” Matthew said, patting Bird on the back and drifting out the door.

            “Night,” Bird called over his shoulder, collapsing on the bed. He couldn’t believe that he had just had a very long conversation with a ghost—and now, he was sleeping in the same house as one. That is, if he could ever fall asleep.

*****

            The floorboards creak under the intruder’s feet.

            “Hello?” the call comes from the bedroom. “Victoria? Are you home already?” Silence follows the call and the intruder continues on. He pulls on his black gloves to keep them from falling off.

            “Who’s there? I’m warning you—don’t take another step!” Matthew yells, but the intruder could hear his voice shaking. The intruder’s lips curve into a smile. Finally, he came to the bedroom door and steps in.

            “Derrick, oh God! You scared me,” Matthew says, relieved when he recognized his brother-in-law. Derrick didn’t say a word, instead he began to raise his knife.

            “What are you doing?” Matthew asks, his brow scrunching in confusion.

            “Tell me where the money is, Matthew,” Derrick demands.

            “Money? What money?” Matthew tries moving his hand across the dresser he stood by in an attempt to grab the lamp that was on top without Derrick noticing.

            “Don’t play innocent! I know you have the money around here somewhere!” Derrick yells back. Matthew grabbed the lamp and quickly swung it at Derrick’s head. Derrick dodged it effortlessly.

            “I gave you a chance to tell me, Matthew,” Derrick whispers, his face unsmiling, “I wish I didn’t have to do this.” Derrick lunged at Matthew with his knife. Matthew grabbed Derrick’s hand and held him back. With one swift move, Matthew grabbed a flower vase from the dresser and smashed it on Derrick’s head. Derrick grasped his head wound, getting blood on his hands.

            “This ends now,” Derrick rasps and stabs Matthew before he can react. Matthew collapses, still holding onto Derrick’s wrist and rips off his glove. Matthew holds his bleeding stomach and stares up into Derrick’s eyes.

            “You’ll never find the money,” Matthew whispers, and closes his eyes. Derrick watches as Matthew breathes his last breath.

            “I’ll find it,” Derrick promises Matthew, “No matter how long it takes me, I’ll find it.” Derrick began opening drawers and searching under all the furniture. He tried all the desks and file cabinets. The panic set his eyes is noticeable as Derrick realizes he needs to get out of there. He was sure he could pass off his head injury as a simple wound from falling down the stairs at his office. No one would question him. He was a man that everyone trusted. But he needed to keep his last promise to Matthew. He was going to find that money, even if it took him his whole life.

*****

Bird woke up breathless.

            “Oh my god,” he whispered, staring at the old room around him, “that’s what happened.” Images flashed in his head: how Derrick stared at Matthew, showing no remorse. How he wiped the blood off his head and killed Matthew. He was probably sitting at home right now, the fact that he was a murderer not even bothering him. He never found the money, Bird realized with a smile. The smile didn’t stick around for long, though. And neither will I. Bird, Joy, and Skittles had come to the Hastings’ Manor and promised Matthew that they’d pass on the money to the rightful owner. That may be hard considering Matthew never told them where the money is. Bird jumped up from the bed, and ran out of the room.        

            “Matthew?” he called into the empty house, then cursed quietly to himself. I guess one myth was true about ghosts: they don’t stick around until morning.

            “Hey, Matthew!” Bird yelled again, staring at the ceiling, “could you give me a sign of some sort? Like, showing me where the money is?” Suddenly the lights lining the walls lit up, first the one right above him, then the next one over. Bird followed to lights until he reached the master bedroom again. As he entered the room, the light on the dresser turned on. Bird walked over to the lamp, picking it up and shaking it to see if it did anything. Nope. The lamp was useless. Bird stared at the dresser, trying to not think about Matthew slumped against it, dead. Bird opened the top drawer. Empty. He moved onto the next one. Empty again. And then to the last one. Empty.

            “Dang it!” Bird kicked the still-open bottom drawer in frustration. When he kicked it, the drawer bumped sideways. He glared at the dresser like it was his worst enemy. He tried kicking it again to close it, but it wouldn’t close. Instead, it only knocked it more sideways and caused it to fall out of the dresser and onto Bird’s foot.

            “Arg!” He screamed, bending down and holding his foot. As he was on the ground next to the fallen-out drawer he noticed something. Where the drawer had fallen out, there was what looked like another, smaller drawer with a keyhole in it. Bird stood up and pulled out the next drawer up. It went deeper than the fallen one. He tried pulling on the hidden drawer, but it didn’t budge. He stared at the keyhole.

            “I need a key,” he said, trying to direct it to Matthew, wherever he was. But no magical key fell from the sky. Bird stood up from the floor, putting his hands on the dresser to help hoist him up.

            “Ow,” he muttered, lifting his hands. Under one of his hands was a key, which he was sure wasn’t there before. “Next time, Matthew, try giving me some signs that aren’t so painful,” Bird mumbled. He took the key and quickly inserted it into the lock, opening the hidden drawer. The only thing in it was a shoebox-sized chest. Bird grabbed it and put it on the wood floor in front of him. His hands were shaking as he opened it, staring at its contents: hundreds of dollars. No, thousands of dollars. Also some expensive-looking jewelry tucked to the side of the bills.

            “It’s like a treasure chest,” Bird said absently-mindedly. Bird’s awe of the ‘treasure chest’ didn’t last long, though. Not when he realized that he was responsible for every single cent of the money. After all, one man had already been killed over it. What was going to stop Derrick from killing another?