The Laughing Corpse Read Online Free PDF

window. The curtains were white with little duckies and bunnies stitched around the edges. Animal cutouts danced around the pale blue walls. There was no crib, only one of those beds with handrails halfway down. A big boy bed, wasn’t that what they were called?
    There wasn’t as much blood in here. Thank you, dear God. Who says prayers never get answered? But in a square of bright August sunshine sat a stuffed teddy bear. The teddy bear was candy-coated with blood. One glassy eye stared round and surprised out of the spiky fake fur.
    I knelt beside it. The carpet didn’t squeeze, no blood soaked in. Why was the damn bear sitting here covered in congealing blood? There was no other blood in the entire room that I could see.
    Did someone just set it here? I looked up and found myself staring at a small white chest of drawers with bunnies painted on it. When you have a motif, I guess you stick with it. On the white paint was one small, perfect handprint. I crawled towards it and held up my hand near it comparing size. My hands aren’t big, small even for a woman’s, but this handprint was tiny. Two, three, maybe four. Blue walls, probably a boy.
    â€œHow old was the child?”
    â€œPicture in the living room has Benjamin Reynolds, age three, written on the back.”
    â€œBenjamin,” I whispered it, and stared at the bloody handprint. “There’s no body in this room. No one was killed here.”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œWhy did you want me to see it?” I looked up at him, still kneeling.
    â€œYour opinion isn’t worth anything if you don’t see everything.”
    â€œThat damn bear is going to haunt me.”
    â€œMe, too,” he said.
    I stood, resisting the urge to smooth my skirt down in back. It was amazing how many times I touched my clothing without thinking and smeared blood on myself. But not today.
    â€œIs it the boy’s body under the sheet in the living room?” As I said it, I prayed that it wasn’t.
    â€œNo,” he said.
    Thank God. “Mother’s body?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œWhere is the boy’s body?”
    â€œWe can’t find it.” He hesitated, then asked, “Could the thing have eaten the child’s body completely?”
    â€œYou mean so there wouldn’t be anything left to find?”
    â€œYes,” he said. His face looked just the tiniest bit pale. Mine probably did, too.
    â€œPossible, but even the undead have a limit to what they can eat.” I took a deep breath. “Did you find any signs of—regurgitation.”
    â€œRegurgitation.” He smiled. “Nice word. No, the creature didn’t eat and then vomit. At least we haven’t found it.”
    â€œThen the boy’s probably still around somewhere.”
    â€œCould he be alive?” Dolph asked.
    I looked up at him. I wanted to say yes, but I knew the answer was probably no. I compromised. “I don’t know.”
    Dolph nodded.
    â€œThe living room next?” I asked.
    â€œNo.” He walked out of the room without another word. I followed. What else could I do? But I didn’t hurry. If he wanted to play tough, silent policeman, he could damn well wait for me to catch up.
    I followed his broad back around the corner through the living room into the kitchen. A sliding glass door led out onto a deck. Glass was everywhere. Shiny slivers of it sparkled in the light from yet another skylight. The kitchen was spotless, like a magazine ad, done in blue tile and rich light-colored wood. “Nice kitchen,” I said.
    I could see men moving around the yard. The party had moved outside. The privacy fence hid them from the curious neighbors, as it hadhidden the killer last night. There was just one detective standing beside the shiny sink. He was scribbling something in a notebook.
    Dolph motioned me to have a closer look. “Okay,” I said. “Something crashed through the sliding glass