Like a juicy worm on a hook, Rusty dangled from a line that had been passed through the metal hole in the top of the flipped over trailer. The redhead had been outfitted with a harness that was secured tightly around his crotch and waist and wore a miner’s helmet complete with a bright, shining flashlight secured to it.
“Hold me tight, boys,” Rusty shouted up to Cole and the firemen, who were busy holding the line. “I don’t want to fall into any of this…”
Rusty studied the surroundings. The chairs, the couch, all the furniture, all of Roxy’s belongings were scattered all over. It was as if some dark force grabbed hold of the giant tin can and given it a great big shake. Worse, the walls were soaked with blood and…
“Shit,” Rusty said as he turned to Paul. “Hey kid, when this all happened, was Roxy on the pot?”
“Huh?” Paul asked.
“Son,” Rusty said. “I know you’ve had one helluva night but I’m hanging in mid-air from a rig that’s given me a weapons grade wedgie so pay attention. Was Roxy taking a shit?”
“Yeah,” Paul said. The young man was in such a state of confusion that he was having a hard time figuring out what was going on all around him.
Rusty shined his helmet light downward to find hundreds of smashed up pieces of…
“Porcelain,” Rusty said. “Cole!”
“Yeah?” Cole asked.
“We’ve got another one!” Rusty said.
“Another what?” Cole asked.
“Another toilet murder!” Rusty shouted.
Cole groaned. “You’re shitting me.”
“I shit you not!” Rusty said. “There’s shit everywhere! Roxy must have been having a big time blow out when the killer…”
Rusty caught himself mid-sentence. He looked around frantically. “Kid, is the killer still here?”
Paul pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?!” Rusty asked. “How could you not know?”
“I don’t know!” Paul repeated. “One second everything was fine. The next, the whole place has been knocked over!”
Rusty looked up at the ceiling, which had previously served as the floor. In the part of the trailer that once served as Roxy’s bathroom, the toilet was missing.
“Get your ass over here, boy!” Rusty cried.
Paul obliged his rescuer.
“Lower me down a few feet more!” Rusty shouted.
Rusty’s feet hit the floor. He tied a rope around Paul’s waist, secured it to a metal ring on his harness with a hook, then tugged on the line.
“Pull us up!” Rusty said.
Cole and the firemen heaved and heaved until Rusty and Paul were safely on top of the trailer.
“Is he down there?” Cole asked as he shined a light into the square hole.
“No,” Rusty said. “He’s gone.”