Murder Mayhem

           “There’s Mr. Garza. I wonder what he’s doing out so late at night.” David spoke in barely a whisper, but a chill still ran down my spine. Stacy shivered deeper into her coat. Even though it was only thirty-one degrees inside the open-walled tree house and our breaths puffed in the air, I knew the weather wasn’t the cause of our discomfort.

           It was the man. His name was Fernando Garza, and he’d lived next door to my best friend David’s house since we were born. We hardly ever saw him, and when we did, we only caught a glimpse of a hunched back and white, thin hair. Once, and only once, did we catch a glimpse of his face. He had leathery skin, squinty black eyes, and teeth that looked like they should crumble any second.

           That was three years ago, and since then a cold, yet delicious feeling of fear worked its way through my body whenever we saw him. Like now.

           I scooted closer to my two best friends as we watched him through the branches of the tree. We sat comfortably (if a bit frozen) together, our eyes piercing the dark.

           The small old man peered around his overgrown yard, and we could hear faint mumbling, as though he were talking to himself. The light from David’s back porch cast an eerie shadow over his figure as he crept around his property, unaware of the three pairs of eyes that watched him. He stopped and placed a hand on his chest as he glared around the cold yard. Then he shuffled back to his porch, his feet crunching on icy grass. The click of a latch came, and he was gone.

           “That was strange,” David said. He was Jewish, and at thirteen was a year older than Stacy and me. The dark brown of his eyes wasn’t visible in the dark, and only the whites showed. Spooky. I reached for a flashlight and was about to flick it on to chase away the darkness, but Stacy stopped me with a hand on my arm. Her pale blue eyes glowed like a ghost in the shadows.

           “Don’t, Megan!” she advised. “We need the darkness to see fireflies. Remember, Christy asked for a firefly for her Christmas present, and that means I have to get one tonight.”

           I sighed as I remembered the purpose of our nighttime freeze-fest. It was Christmas Eve, and Stacy’s little sister had asked for a firefly as a gift. She’d never been able to catch one herself. Since the three of us wouldn’t be together on Christmas Day, David had offered the use of his tree house for her firefly hunt.

           “I wonder what he was doing,” he mused.

           “I don’t know,” I said. “It was awfully suspicious.”

           “He seemed to be searching for something. Maybe he’s hidden buried treasure! I heard that he used to be a pirate.” Stacy would have climbed down right then and there to look if David hadn’t grabbed her arm.

           “Buried treasure? Stacy, he would have to be, like, five hundred years old to have been a pirate.” He didn’t say it rudely, just matter-of-factly.

           “Whooo…” I muttered, earning a hard shove from Stacy. Then I cocked my head, listening.

           “Shhh,” I said to my friends as they laughed at some joke.” Do you hear something?” They sat silently for a minute.

           “I feel like I do,” David finally said, rubbing his hands together.

           “I can’t place it though,” Stacy added. The sound grew louder, and I felt a little apprehensive prickle at the back of my neck.

           Click. Click. Click.

           “I wish it was light,” she said.

           “Well, I don’t. I would just feel better if I knew where the sound was coming from.” That was from David. He looked around again. Then, as I watched, he froze. His gaze locked somewhere over my left shoulder, and I had a strange feeling that I knew what he was looking at. The Creepy House, Mr. Garza’s house.

           I turned my head slightly, and my heart dropped to my toes.

           A window was located just below us, hewed into the rickety sides of the house. The whole time we were out here, a soft light had peeked out from behind the thin curtains. It was the only light on, besides the light on David’s porch. Now, the light was off.

           Click. The light turned back on, and a shadow filtered its shape around the curtains.

           Click. Darkness.

           “What was that?” David asked.   

“I don’t care what it was. I’m getting out of here!” I cried. Because in that split second of light, I had seen the outline of the shadow. And it was undoubtedly the shape of a man. A man that was definitely not Mr. Garza. Mr. Garza was short and skinny, and this apparition had been tall and hefty. I grabbed the ladder to haul myself down to the ground.

“Right behind you,” Stacy agreed. The strain in her voice told me she had realized it, too.

But then… click. Light wrapped itself around my body as I hung from the ladder, because there were no branches to shelter me. I came to a quick decision. I pulled myself back into the tree house, because I had no intention of staying where that person could see me.

I breathed a sigh of relief as soon as I was out of sight, but that feeling didn’t last long.

“He’s murdering him!” came a choked whisper by my side. David’s ruddy face was so pale that it glowed in the darkness. I looked…and wished I hadn’t.

The strange man had the small, skinny form of Mr. Garza wrapped in his arms. He gave a tight squeeze, and I felt that no man could stand that pressure. Another heave. A loud choking sound came wafting through the night air, and I realized that the window was open slightly.

Great. We weren’t only seeing a murder, now we were hearing one, too! The man gave one last squeeze, and then, apparently satisfied, let the limp shadow of Mr. Garza slide to the ground.

Click. And then the terrible moment was gone, replaced by another sound that floated around in the dark and seemed to twine around the branches.

We sat in the tree house, too terrified to move, as we listened to the strangest music we had ever heard in our lives.

Deedee dee. Deedee dum. It sounded rich and felt like angels were rushing past my cheeks. Then abruptly, it stopped.

As I got my bearings back, I realized that we had been holding each other’s hands in a death grip. We all shook with more terror than we had ever felt in our lives. There was no doubt in any of our minds that we had just witnessed a murder.

Then, as one, we clattered out of the tree house, stumbled over each other as we fled across the yard, and slammed into the house, away from that awful place.

It was an experience that would haunt us for many years.

Ten years later.

In a one-horse open sleigh… Hey! Bells on…

The strains of Jingle Bells followed me out into the hallway as I escaped from my living room. The happy voices of people partying grew fainter as I strode toward the door.

“Who could it be at this time of night?” Stacy asked. She had heard the doorbell and come to see who it was.

           “Don’t know,” I said.” Maybe it’s Santa Claus.”

           “Ha-ha. It’s probably David, making a late and spectacularly conspicuous entrance, as always.”

           “No. Remember, he said he wouldn’t be here. First time he’s missed one of my Christmas Eve parties in ten years, and he didn’t even give me an explanation.” I opened the front door and almost got conked on my head as the wreath fell down in a flurry of snow. I tossed it to the side of the porch and peered into the darkness. There was nobody there. I stepped out a little farther.

           “Hello?” I felt a little quiver work its icy fingers around my back. I tried to shake the feeling off, but when you’re traumatized on Christmas Eve when you’re twelve, you feel a little odd on the Christmas Eves to come. Or at least I did, and I knew my friends felt the same. The day before Christmas always felt eerie to me, like the spirit of Mr. Garza was calling to us from the grave.

           At the thought, I shivered and slipped back into the house. Okay, that’s enough, Megan.

           I was about to shut the door on the inky blackness and return to my boring Christmas party when Stacy muttered something.

           “Odd,” she said.

           I turned to look where she was pointing. A pretty, wrapped gift lay in all its splendor on the porch swing, it’s bright red bow lightly accented by the glowing hues from the light in the house.

           I stepped forward and gingerly picked it up.

           “Is this a joke?” I asked as I examined it. “There’s no tag, no name, nothing to tell who sent it. It just says ‘give to person hosting party. Anonymous.’ Now that’s creepy.”

           “Maybe Santa Claus sent it,” Stacy said, trying to joke.

           We made our way to the kitchen and shut the door as happy voices drifted from the living room. I didn’t think anybody even noticed that I ditched my own Christmas party.

           “Open it.” Stacy said impatiently.

           I yanked at one end of the bow, and it untied easily. At the same time, the sides of the box fell of their own accord. Huh. Nice.         

Inside was a record marked Megan. It didn’t even have any writing on it to tell what the song was.

“Well?” Stacy asked, raising one blonde eyebrow. “Are you going to play it?”

We went back to the living room and wove around the guests toward the back wall, where my record player was playing a hearty version of Frosty the Snowman. I replaced that record with the strange gift and waited for it to begin playing.

My guests had noticed the break in the song, and every eye was turned toward me as the song began to play.

           As I listened, only one word popped into my head. Sinister.

           Deedee dee. Deedee dum. Stacy gasped, and the memory I had tried to bury came back to me full force. That music. It’s like a soundtrack to the worst day of my life…

           The partygoers had noticed our strange reactions, and Mayor Gormley later told me I looked like a fish with a hook in its gum, the way my jaws hung open.

           Stacy and I ignored the questions and hurried to the den. We shut the door and retreated to the far corner of the room, in case anybody tried to eavesdrop.

           “Call David,” Stacy urged. “He’ll freak out when he hears this.”

           I dialed his number accordingly and tried not to faint when the other end rang and rang. Finally, he picked up.

           “Hello?” he said.

           “You’ll never guess what just happened! I got the creepiest gift on the porch, and I have no idea who sent it. Maybe they’re stalking us, or maybe we’re next, or… how could he know where I live?” I knew I wasn’t making any sense, but I was on the verge of hysterics. Stacy was only slightly calmer, considering that she hadn’t been the one to receive the threatening box.

           “Megan. Calm down. What are you talking about?” His voice on the line was reassuring. I related the story to him, ending with,” and now I think the murderer knows we saw him kill Mr. Garza, and he wants to cover it up by killing the witnesses! He sent me the present to warn me I’m next!”

           David was quiet for a long minute, and I imagined him drawing all the blinds against a murdering maniac. Then came a response I hadn’t imagined in a million years. He burst out laughing.

           “It’s not funny!” I hollered.

           “Do you think this is a joke?” Stacy asked, speaking for the first time. Snorting noises came over the line, and then another round of undisclosed mirth. I began to get annoyed. Here our lives were in danger, and he was laughing it up!

           “Oh, boy, oh, boy!” he said, finally catching his breath. “I think that one went a little too far!”

           “Oh?” I growled testily.

           “I was home visiting my mom last week, and guess who I saw?”

           At the obvious change in subject, I took my head in my hands and gave my curls a frustrated yank.

           “What?” Stacy answered.

           “I saw Mr. Garza!” At this juncture, I nearly had a heart attack.

           “Say again?” I asked weakly.

           “No it’s true! I was just as shocked as you, actually. I thought he was a ghost! But then I got up the nerve to go talk to him, and he told me everything. I even got to see the room where the murder took place!”

           “Ha-ha,” I said.” I never knew you could commune with the dead. We saw that big guy murder him!”

           “Oh, what silly things young kids can imagine,” he responded airily.

           “Explain yourself,” Stacy ordered.

           “Well…” he began with painstaking slowness,” I saw him out in his yard on Tuesday morning while I was getting some coffee. He was getting the mail, not looking for buried treasure, Stacy.

Anyway, I talked to him, and he said that the big man was an inventor friend from the college he went to years ago. Mr. Garza is like, ninety-five years old now, so I was surprised to see him home after all these years.”

           “And?” I was beginning to believe it myself.

           “And he said that the ‘murder’ we saw was just him choking on a chicken bone. Mr., let’s see, what’s his name… Mr. Langston was trying to help him by doing the Heimlich maneuver. Mr. Garza went to live with family the next day, and he stayed there for six years. Then he was moved to hospice for some kind of heart ailment, and he stayed there for four years. But he got so much better instead of worse, so they had to let him go. That’s why nobody ever heard from him for ten years.”

           “But… the music? And the lights flicking on and off?” Stacy sounded angry that she had been duped for ten years and I figured that she was hanging onto the last thread of her argument.

           “Ah. Like I said, his friend was an inventor. He had invented a new machine to play music, and that’s where the light came from. When he turned it on, the light turned on. When he turned it off, the light turned off, too. That’s also where the music came from. Do you know, he composed it himself! He never publicized the music, so that’s why we could never find it anywhere we looked. But Mr. Garza gave me a copy.” His voice sounded triumphant. I had recovered from my shock and was blushing down to my toes from having been fooled for so long.

           “So you sent us the music?!” I asked furiously. I wanted to reach through the screen of my phone and strangle him.

           “Well, of course! I thought it would be hilarious to scare the living daylights out of you. And boy, did I! Besides, I got your reactions on voice recording! I can’t believe I managed not to laugh for so long!” He chuckled.

           I began to see the funny side of it, but I managed to keep a straight face.

           “Ah, yes, David the practical joker,” Stacy remarked drily.

           “Yup! And do you know what else? These voice recordings will make great Christmas presents next year!”