The Somnibus: Book I - Finding the Mark (A Paranormal Thriller) by Craig McGray Page B

a
special individual.”
     “Yes he is, or was. What can I do for you,
Mr. Honeycutt?”
    “Well, it’s more a matter of what I can do for
you. He left his possessions to you in a document he had me draft just before
buying and subsequently moving into your house. He gave me your contact
information. He told me he would call me every morning at 7 a.m. and let the
phone ring once. Until this morning, he did just that. He told me if the call
was not received on time, it would mean he had met with an unfortunate event, and
I was to contact the proper people to carry out the orders of the document.”
Honeycutt ruffled through papers as I waited for more information. “Seeing as
how it is late afternoon and I haven’t heard from Mort since yesterday, I will
assume such an event has indeed occurred. Judging by your reaction, it appears
as though I am correct in my assumption.”
    “Yes, you are. I’m sure he will not be contacting
you in the morning,” The stain at my feet assured me of that.
    “Well then, we must get together so I can go over
the documentation with you and have you sign the
paperwork.”
    “What exactly is it that I’m getting?” I regretted
asking as soon as I’d said it.
    “Well, there is the house, of course. You will receive
full ownership of it. He paid cash, as you know, so the house is yours to do
with as you please. There’s also a briefcase for you. I’m not sure what it
contains, but he insisted that you….”
    I interrupted him mid-sentence.
    “Why was he so set on taking care of me?”
    “I’m afraid I don’t know the answer to that. He
was a very private man, and as an attorney, I make it a habit not to pry into
the lives of my clients. They tell me what they want me to know, and some
things I’m better off not knowing.”
    “I understand. When would be a good time to meet?
I can come to your office anytime.”
    “It would be easier if I came to your house. I
don’t keep normal office hours anymore, I’m more of a
freelance attorney. How about I stop by tomorrow morning around ten?”
    “Sounds good, I’ll see you then.”
    “Okay, have a good evening Mr. Black.”
    “You too. Thanks.”
    I hung up the phone and held it in my hand,
realizing that may have been the call that changed the direction of my life.
Now I wouldn’t have to find a new place to live.
    I recalled part of my conversation with Mr.
Honeycutt. He said Mort had a briefcase as well. My mind raced with the
possibilities of what might be inside.

-Chapter 15-
     
    T he doorbell rang at exactly ten o’clock the next
morning. The night before, I had gone to sleep on the couch and had the best
night’s sleep in a while. The room spun when I jumped up a little too quickly.
I sat up and steadied myself before heading to the door. I peeked through the
window at a man standing on the porch. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and
opened the door, greeted by Mr. Honeycutt.
    “Hello, Mr. Black.”
    A portly man, Honeycutt’s wrinkled suit looked as
though it had come from the back of his closet, from a time when he was younger
and his waist a bit less expansive. The buttons on the front of the jacket
struggled to hold their position and his belt, which hovered around his belly
button, barely hung onto the first hole. His hair was
disheveled , as if he had driven over in a convertible. Honeycutt’s eyes were pinched closed by the puffiness of his cheeks pushing
up into his lower eyelids, and his upper eyelids drooped into his vision.
    “Good morning. Come in.”
    “Nice to meet you.”
    He extended his ballooned right hand to me, and I
shook it as best I could. I held the door open as he waddled through the
doorway and stood in the foyer, awaiting directions.
    “Let’s talk in here,” I motioned him into the
kitchen.
    I pulled the chair out at the end of the table, and
Honeycutt sat down with a thud and a grunt. He removed his hat and put reading
glasses on while I took the seat across from him. I waited with