The night before, when Leo realized that he had a dead body on his hands, a small dead body, one that he could lift easily and hide without much trouble, but a dead body none the less, a dead body that, in a few days would bloat and start to stink up the place, he decided he couldn’t just leave Mariah in the wall, in the passage she had popped out of and he had hidden her in. Someone, one of the detectives most likely, was bound to notice the stink, or the disappearance, or something, and while they might not put two and two together to get four it was still too risky. Anyway, Leo, or Lionel, or whatever he called himself when he went into this mode, the mode he tried to shut off when in polite society, had his methods, and they included leaving no trace of the body.
There was an old fashioned meat grinder in the kitchen. He had encountered it a few times, when he had gone in to make coffee or steal food, and it had always fascinated, the handle, how easy it would be to pulverize something, or someone, in it. very Sweeney Todd, to be sure. So, the night before, at two in the morning, when everyone was asleep, and he knew they were asleep, as he crept, ghost-like, from room to room, peaking in around the door, so careful not to make a sound, after he neatly trimmed limb from torso and took out her organs, heart, kidneys, liver, stomach, like she was just an animal he had killed and was going to eat, he carried her dismembered body downstairs and into the kitchen, wrapped in garbage bags.
The grinder, old as it looked, ran smoothly, and the whole process took no more than an our, quietly and quickly grinding her up, looking around every so often to make sure nobody was approaching. Some bits, the skull mostly, took longer to grind into the fine mash he was seeking, but in the end, there was no more Mariah and enough pink goo to make patties and feed the entire manor. Now there was an idea, feeding the poisoner to the poisoned, and such an easy way to make sure Mariah was never, ever found. No, but Leo didn’t want to eat her, and it would be suspicious if he didn’t.
Fertilizer was easy enough to make, he decided, as he broke into that gardener’s, Jack, was that his name, shed. Idiot didn’t even have a proper lock on it. Jiggle the knob a little and the door popped right open. What a fool. There were several open bags of soil and manure, and it was easy enough for Leo to make his own bag, mix Mariah in. He was careful to put compost, which stank of rot and death, in with the mixture, and when he flicked on the light, nobody would now the difference, except for maybe the stupid gardner. Fuck. Leo would have to use his fertilizer, and soon.
So, the next day, when he set himself up in the far corner of the garden, one that hadn’t been used in a very long time, careful to avoid the gardener on the way, a packet of blood red rose seeds jammed into his back pocket, the bag of his mixture and Mariah over his shoulder, and he saw Jeff approaching, he couldn’t help but raise a hand and wave at the boy.
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