{"id":1163,"date":"2026-01-03T21:16:30","date_gmt":"2026-01-03T21:16:30","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/a-noise-downstairs-barclay-linwood\/"},"modified":"2026-01-03T21:16:30","modified_gmt":"2026-01-03T21:16:30","slug":"a-noise-downstairs-barclay-linwood","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/a-noise-downstairs-barclay-linwood\/","title":{"rendered":"A Noise Downstairs – Barclay, Linwood"},"content":{"rendered":"
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Book Preview<\/h3>\n
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Prologue<\/span><\/p>\n

D<\/span>riving along the Post Road late that early October night, Paul Davis was pretty sure the car driving erratically in front of him belonged to his colleague Kenneth Hoffman. The ancient, dark blue Volvo station wagon was a fixture around West Haven College, a clich\u00e9 on wheels of what a stereotypical professor drove.<\/p>\n

It was just after eleven, and Paul wondered whether Kenneth\u2014always Kenneth, never Ken\u2014knew his left taillight was cracked, white light bleeding through the red plastic lens. Hadn\u2019t he mentioned something the other day, about someone backing into him in the faculty parking lot and not leaving a note under the windshield wiper?<\/p>\n

A busted taillight was the kind of thing that undoubtedly would annoy Kenneth. The car\u2019s lack of back-end symmetry, the automotive equivalent of an unbalanced equation, would definitely irk Kenneth, a math and physics professor.<\/p>\n

The way the Volvo was straying toward the center line, then jerking suddenly back into its own lane, worried Paul that something might be wrong with Kenneth. Was he nodding off at the wheel, then waking up to find himself headed for the opposite shoulder? Was he coming home from someplace where he\u2019d had too much to drink?<\/p>\n

If Paul were a cop, he\u2019d hit the lights, whoop the siren, pull him over.<\/p>\n

But Paul was not a cop, and Kenneth was not some random motorist. He was a colleague. No, more than that. Kenneth was a friend. A mentor. Paul didn\u2019t have a set of lights atop his car, or a siren. But maybe he could, somehow, pull Kenneth over. Get his attention. Get him to stop long enough for Paul to make sure he was fit to drive. And if he wasn\u2019t, give him a lift home.<\/p>\n

It was the least Paul could do. Even if Kenneth wasn\u2019t the close friend he once was.<\/p>\n

When Paul first arrived at West Haven, Kenneth had taken an almost fatherly interest in him. They\u2019d discovered, at a faculty meet and greet, that they had a shared, and not particularly cerebral, interest. They loved 1950s science fiction movies. Forbidden Planet<\/i>, Destination Moon<\/i>, Earth vs. the Flying Saucers<\/i>, The Day the Earth Stood Still<\/i>. The Attack of the 50 Foot Woman<\/i>, they agreed, was nothing short of a masterpiece. Once they\u2019d bonded over the geekiest of subjects, Kenneth offered Paul a West Haven crash course.<\/p>\n

The politics of academia would come over time, but what a new guy really needed to know was how to get a good parking spot. Who was the<\/i> person to connect with in payroll if they screwed up your monthly deposit? What day did you avoid the dining hall? (Tuesday, as it turned out. Liver.)<\/p>\n

Paul came to realize, over the coming years, he was something of an exception for Kenneth. The man was more likely to offer his orientation services to new female hires, and from what Paul heard, it was more intensive.<\/p>\n

There were a lot of sides to Kenneth, and Paul still wasn\u2019t sure he knew all of them.<\/p>\n

But whatever his misgivings about Kenneth, they weren\u2019t enough to let the man drive his station wagon into the ditch and kill himself. And it would be just<\/i> himself. As far as Paul could see, there was no one in the passenger seat next to Kenneth.<\/p>\n

The car had traveled nearly a mile now without drifting into the other lane, so maybe, Paul thought, Kenneth had things under control. But there was an element of distraction to the man\u2019s driving. He\u2019d be doing the speed limit, then the brake lights would flash\u2014including the busted one\u2014and the car would slow. But then, it would pick up speed. A quarter mile later, it would slow again. Kenneth appeared to be making frequent glances to the right, as though hunting for a house number.<\/p>\n

It was an odd area to be looking for one. There were no houses. This stretch of the Post Road was almost entirely commercial.<\/p>\n

What was Kenneth up to, exactly?<\/p>\n

Not that driving around Milford an hour before midnight had to mean someone was up to something. After all, Paul was out on the road, too, and if he\u2019d gone straight home after attending a student theatrical production at West Haven he\u2019d be there by now. But here he was, driving aimlessly, thinking.<\/p>\n

About Charlotte.<\/p>\n

He\u2019d invited her to come along. Although Paul was not involved in the production, several of his students were, and he felt obliged to be supportive. Charlotte, a real estate agent, begged off. She had a house to show that evening. And frankly, waiting while a prospective buyer checked the number of bedrooms held the promise of more excitement than waiting for Godot.<\/p>\n

Even if his wife hadn\u2019t had to work, Paul would have been surprised if she\u2019d joined him. Lately, they\u2019d been more like roommates who shared a space rather than partners who shared a life. Charlotte was distant, preoccupied. It\u2019s just work, she\u2019d say, when he tried to figure out what might be troubling her. Could it be Josh, he wondered? Did she resent it when his son came for the weekend? No, that couldn\u2019t be it. She liked Josh, had gone out of her way to make him feel welcome and\u2014<\/p>\n

Hello.<\/i><\/p>\n

Kenneth had his blinker on.<\/p>\n

He steered the Volvo wagon into an industrial park that ran at right angles to the main road. A long row of businesses, every one of them no doubt closed for the last five hours or more.<\/p>\n

If Kenneth was impaired, or sleepy, he might still have enough sense to get off the road and sleep it off. Maybe he was going to use his phone. Call a taxi. Either way, Paul was thinking it was less urgent for him to intervene.<\/p>\n

Still, Paul slowed and pulled over to the side of the road just beyond where Kenneth had turned in. The Volvo drove around to the back of the building, brake lights flashing. It stopped a few feet from a Dumpster.<\/p>\n

Why go around the back? Paul wondered. What was Kenneth up to? He killed his headlights, turned off the engine, and watched.<\/p>\n

In Paul\u2019s overactive imagination, the words drug deal<\/i> came up in lights. But there was nothing in Kenneth\u2019s character to suggest such a thing.<\/p>\n

And, in fact, Kenneth didn\u2019t appear to be meeting anyone. There was no other car, no suspicious person materializing out of the darkness. Kenneth got out, the dome light coming on inside. He slammed the door shut, circled around the back until he was at the front passenger door, and opened it. Kenneth bent over to pick up something.<\/p>\n

Paul could not make out what it was. Dark\u2014although everything looked pretty dark\u2014and about the size of a computer printer, but irregularly shaped. Heavy, judging by the way Kenneth leaned back slightly for balance as he carried it the few steps over to the Dumpster. He raised the item over the lip and dropped it in.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat the hell?\u201d Paul said under his breath.<\/p>\n

Kenneth closed the passenger-side door, went back around to the driver\u2019s side, and got in behind the wheel.<\/p>\n

Paul slunk down in his seat as the Volvo turned around and came back out onto the road. Kenneth drove right past him and continued in the same direction. Paul watched the Volvo\u2019s taillights recede into the distance.<\/p>\n

He turned and looked to the Dumpster, torn between checking to see what Kenneth had tossed into it, and continuing to follow his friend. When he\u2019d first spotted Kenneth, Paul had been worried about him. Now, add curious.<\/p>\n

Whatever was in that Dumpster would, in all likelihood, still be there in a few hours.<\/p>\n

Paul keyed the ignition, turned on his lights, and threw the car back into drive.<\/p>\n

The Volvo was heading north out of Milford. Beyond the houses and grocery stores and countless other industrial parks and down winding country roads canopied by towering trees. At one point, they passed a police car parked on the shoulder, but they were both cruising along under the limit.<\/p>\n

Paul began to wonder whether Kenneth had any real destination in mind. The Volvo\u2019s brake lights would flash as he neared a turnoff, but then the car would speed up until the next one. Kenneth, again, appeared to be looking for something.<\/p>\n

Suddenly, it appeared Kenneth had found it.<\/p>\n

The car pulled well off the pavement. The lights died. Paul, about a tenth of a mile back, could see no reason why Kenneth had stopped there. There was no driveway, no nearby home that Paul could make out.<\/p>\n

Paul briefly considered driving right on by, but then thought, Fuck this cloak-and-dagger shit. I need to see if he\u2019s okay.<\/i><\/p>\n

So Paul hit the blinker and edged his car onto the shoulder, coming to a stop behind the Volvo wagon just as Kenneth was getting out. His door was open, the car\u2019s interior bathed in weak light.<\/p>\n

Kenneth froze. He had the look of an inmate heading for the wall, caught in the guard tower spotlight.<\/p>\n

Paul quickly powered down his window and stuck his head out.<\/p>\n

\u201cKenneth! It\u2019s me!\u201d<\/p>\n

Kenneth squinted.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s Paul! Paul Davis!\u201d<\/p>\n

It took a second for Kenneth to process that. Once he had, he walked briskly toward Paul\u2019s car, using his hand as a visor to shield his eyes from Paul\u2019s headlights. As Paul started to get out of the car, leaving the engine and headlights on, Kenneth shouted, \u201cJesus, Paul, what are you doing here?\u201d<\/p>\n

Paul didn\u2019t like the sound of his voice. Agitated, on edge. He met Kenneth halfway between the two cars.<\/p>\n

\u201cI was pretty sure that was your car. Thought you might be having some trouble.\u201d<\/p>\n

No need to mention he\u2019d been following him for miles.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m fine, no problem,\u201d Kenneth said, clipping his words. He twitched oddly, as though he wanted to look back at his car but was forcing himself not to.<\/p>\n

\u201cWere you following me?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cNot\u2014no, not really,\u201d Paul said.<\/p>\n

Kenneth saw something in the hesitation. \u201cHow long?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHow long were you following me?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI really wasn\u2019t\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

Paul stopped. Something in the back of the Volvo had caught his eye. Between the headlights of his car, and the Volvo\u2019s dome light, it was possible to see what looked like mounds of clear plastic sheeting bunched up above the bottom of the tailgate window.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s nothing,\u201d Kenneth said quickly.<\/p>\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t ask,\u201d Paul said, taking a step closer to the Volvo.<\/p>\n

\u201cPaul, get in your car and go home. I\u2019m fine. Really.\u201d<\/p>\n

Paul only then noticed the dark smudges on Kenneth\u2019s hands, splotches of something on his shirt and jeans.<\/p>\n

\u201cJesus, are you hurt?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m okay.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat looks like blood.\u201d<\/p>\n

When Paul moved toward the Volvo, Kenneth grabbed for his arm, but Paul shook him off. Paul was a good fifteen years younger than Kenneth, and regular matches in the college\u2019s squash courts had kept him in reasonably good shape.<\/p>\n

Paul got to the tailgate and looked through the glass.<\/p>\n

\u201cJesus fucking Christ!\u201d he said, suddenly cupping his hand over his mouth. Paul thought he might be sick.<\/p>\n

Kenneth, standing behind him, said, \u201cLet . . . let me explain.\u201d<\/p>\n

Paul took a step back, looked at Kenneth wide-eyed. \u201cHow . . . who is . . . who are<\/i> they?\u201d<\/p>\n

Kenneth struggled for words. \u201cPaul\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOpen it,\u201d Paul said.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOpen it!\u201d he said, pointing to the tailgate.<\/p>\n

Kenneth moved in front of him and reached for the tailgate latch. Another interior light came on, affording an even better look at the two bodies running lengthwise, both wrapped in that plastic, heads to the tailgate, feet up against the back of the front seats. The rear seats had been folded down to accommodate them, as if they were sheets of plywood from Home Depot.<\/p>\n

While their facial features were heavily distorted by the opaque wrapping, and the blood, it was clear enough that they were both female.<\/p>\n

Adults. Two women.<\/p>\n

Paul stared, stunned, his mouth open. His earlier feeling that he would be sick had been displaced by shock.<\/p>\n

\u201cI was looking for a place,\u201d Kenneth said calmly.<\/p>\n

\u201cA what?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI hadn\u2019t found a good spot yet. I\u2019d been thinking in those woods there, before, well, before you came along.\u201d<\/p>\n

Paul noticed, at that point, the shovel next to the body of the woman on the left.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m going to turn off the car,\u201d Kenneth said. \u201cIt\u2019s not good for the environment.\u201d<\/p>\n

Paul suspected Kenneth would hop in and make a run for it. With the tailgate open, if he floored it, the bodies might slide right out onto the shoulder. But Kenneth was true to his word. He leaned into the car, turned the key to the off position. The engine died.<\/p>\n

Paul wondered who the two women could be. He felt numb, that this could not be happening.<\/p>\n

A name came into his head. He didn\u2019t know why, exactly, but it did.<\/p>\n

Charlotte.<\/i><\/p>\n

Kenneth rejoined him at the back of the car. Did the man seem calmer? Was it relief at being caught? Paul gave him another look, but his eyes were drawn back to the bodies.<\/p>\n

\u201cWho are they?\u201d Paul said, his voice shaking. \u201cTell me who they are.\u201d He couldn\u2019t look at them any longer, and turned away.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry about this,\u201d Kenneth said.<\/p>\n

Paul turned. \u201cYou\u2019re sorry<\/i> about\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

He saw the shovel Kenneth wielded, club-like, for no more than a tenth of a second before it connected with his skull.<\/p>\n

Then everything went black.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n

Read the full book by downloading it below.<\/p>\n

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