Short Fiction is Back! The Dweller

Chapter 1

As part of my efforts to give my subscribers more material, I’ve started up short fiction pieces again in the same style of Morbid Ink. This tale concerns a legend in a Wisconsin lake and a recently discovered body of a missing explorer from two hundred years before.

Bob Stoker vanished.

Not that I cared one way or another at the time. I read stories on the Internet about people vanishing all the time. However, the same Internet reported authorities find over 91 percent of them in a short period. Beyond that, I met him once at Lisa Bissell’s apartment. He was Lisa’s friend or lover, depending upon who told the story.

Lisa is a friend as well. The only downside for me is I don’t get ‘the friends with benefits’ feature in the relationship. She’s made it clear a few times. Lisa uses the words in a different way but it’s clear; I’m like her pet dog, old and reliable. It’s almost amusing how cruelly words can cut through hardened skin and flights of fantasy.

The rumor I heard came from a friend who stated Bob Stoker had gone up to Star Lake three months ago. Nobody was clear on the reason, but another acquaintance told me that a search party had failed to find Stoker last week. So, it did not surprise me when Lisa should up at my door a few days after I heard about Bob’s disappearance.

Lisa stood there outside my open door with her blue eyes narrowed and lips tense. She played with the edges of her blond hair, and her brow furrowed when she quietly walked inside. I recognized the classic pose she carried into the room. She struggled to pitch the upcoming favor as a benefit for both of us. No doubt, whatever she had in mind would cost me time and money. It was her way. Lisa still carried the silly college idea that comes from parents with money. A cute face and twinkle in her eyes meant she could get men under her control and have them pay for everything.

“Well, I guess it’s worked before,” I muttered under my breath as I closed the door.

Lisa wobbled slightly when she went to the couch, and I smelled a hint of liquor among the accents of her perfume.

“What’s the problem?” I asked while sitting on the other side of the couch.

She frowned before quickly recovering with a fake grin.

“Can’t I come over to see you without a problem?”

“Lisa, cut the crap,” I let out a sigh as I stared at the dirty dishes in the kitchen that waited for me. “You come here when you want something that costs me. Usually, it’s some scheme you’ve cooked up that makes no sense. Otherwise, you’ll call me to meet at the coffee shop where you’ll regale me with your week, usually about the latest TikTok stupidity. Three expensive Frappuccinos later, you’ll say you forgot your purse and leave me with the bill. Your family has more money than God, and you do that to a working stiff like me.”

Then I looked over at her.

“You know I only do this because I like to look at your ass,” I pointed out. “But I’m tired of being the reliable one you come to. If you want a poor sugar daddy with no obligation, find someone else.”

Her mouth opened, then she closed it. Her brain apparently short-circuited at my words since she repeated the lip movements like a fish out of water. The woman’s face reddened, but I wasn’t sure if it was embarrassment or growing anger.

“I heard Bob Stoker’s missing.”

I wanted to laugh at her. Instead, I went with the obvious reason that she was inside my place.

“Y—yes, that’s why I’m here!” Her eyes widened when she realized her confession to my earlier statement.

Lisa looked away and stood up from the couch. For a moment, she headed to the door. I expected her to leave, but she turned back instead.