Chapter 4 - The Smell of Rot
The heavy wooden door creaked open, releasing a stale, suffocating wave of old dust and an unmistakable, sickly-sweet scent of decay that made both police officers wrinkle their noses in disgust. Officer Vance placed a gloved hand over his mouth and nose, stepping cautiously across the threshold with his flashlight drawn.
"Arthur, what is that smell?" Vance demanded, sweeping the beam of light down the dimly lit hallway. "When was the last time anyone cleaned this house?"
Arthur lingered in the doorway, his shoulders slumped as if a heavy physical weight had just been dropped onto his back. He stared at the worn floral carpet near the stairs.
"We haven't... we haven't used the downstairs rooms in weeks," Arthur muttered, his voice barely audible. "Not since she took sick."
Elena hurried up the steps, ignoring the police officer's warning to stay back. She pushed past Arthur and looked down the hallway toward the master bedroom. Her eyes widened in absolute horror.
"Mom’s medical equipment," Elena whispered, her voice trembling. "It’s all gone."
Clara marched up the driveway, her sparkly yellow dress catching the light of the police cruiser as she stopped at the open doorway. She peered inside over Arthur’s shoulder, a dark, victorious smirk playing at the corners of her mouth.
"Of course it's gone," Clara said coldly. "He sold it to the medical supply liquidator three days before she supposedly stopped breathing. He was clearing out the evidence before the coroner showed up."
Vance turned sharply, pointing his flashlight beam directly into Clara’s face, then back to Arthur.
"Arthur, is this true? Did you sell her oxygen tanks and heart monitors while she was still alive?" Vance asked, his voice hardening into a dangerous interrogation tone.
Arthur slowly raised his head, his eyes shining with unshed tears. He didn't deny it. Instead, he reached into his jacket pocket once more, pulling out a folded piece of yellowed parchment paper and holding it out toward the officer.
"She asked me to," Arthur said softly. "She knew the cancer had spread to her brain. She didn't want to spend another dime on machines that weren't going to save her."
Elena snatched the paper out of Arthur’s hand before Vance could grab it. She unfolded it frantically, her eyes scanning the faded handwriting in the dim hallway light.
"This... this isn't her signature," Elena cried out, her voice cracking with despair. "This was written months ago. This is my father's handwriting! Clara, you helped him forge this!"
Clara’s smile vanished instantly. She lunged forward, grabbing the edge of the paper and ripping it neatly in half right down the middle.
"I didn't forge anything!" Clara screamed, struggling with Elena in the doorway while the rookie officer stepped in to pull them apart. "He wrote it to steal the deed to the lake house, and you helped him cover it up!"
Vance grabbed both women by the arms, pushing them back onto the porch.
"That's enough! Both of you, shut your mouths right now," Vance commanded, shining his light into the dark living room to the left of the hall. "We are sealing this entire house as a crime scene. Nobody moves."
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As Vance swept his flashlight beam across the living room sofa, the light caught something glittering beneath the cushions. A small, heavy object wrapped in a bloodstained handkerchief.
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