Raw

            by Ellie Tandeta

 

“Good morning Lastrup! It’s snowing again, no surprise, so make sure you stay warm today, and don’t forget to shovel your driveways. Temperatures today will probably be in the low teens so bundle up…”

Elton Becksjorn’s radio alarm quietly clicked on and he slowly opened his eyes. The snow was softly hitting the windows and it was still dark outside. He slipped his feet into his brown shearling slippers so not to touch his bare feet to the cold winter floor. He walked over to his closet, and put on his cerulean, terry cloth robe, and made his way to the kitchen. It was nine steps to the coffee maker, two more to the cupboard where his mugs were, and it took exactly seven minutes to make his perfect cup of black coffee. He had never put sugar, sweetener, milk, or cream. Elton’s morning routine had been the same for as long as he could remember.

            “Good morning Henrietta,” he cooed. The small green turtle raised her head. Elton slipped the two perfectly round cabbage leaves into the tank. Elton walked four more steps to his front door, down thirteen stairs, and out into the freezing January air. Hastily, he grabbed the Lastrup Daily Newspaper from his front steps, and then headed back up the stairs to the warmth of his apartment. It was seven steps to his old orange chair by the front window. Elton lowered himself into the timeworn cushion, and opened the newspaper. The front-page headline read,

            NEW BUTCHER SHOP OPENING IN OLD ROBINSON BUILDING

JONAH AND SID KELLY LOOKING FORWARD TO OPENING

            “Hmmm,” Elton muttered.

            For forty years, Elton had worked in the family owned Becksjorn’s Meats, the only butcher shop in Lastrup, Minnesota. The Becksjorn family had owned the shop for eighty-seven years, started by Elton’s grandfather, Ollie. Elton knew that he would have to give up the butcher shop someday, because he had no children to take over when he died. The butcher shop was Elton’s life.

            Elton scratched his short gray beard. In his whole life, he had never had any competition. In a town with a total population of 116, it was strange for there to be more than one of anything. He looked at the clock above his front door. 6:09. Six minutes until he needed to be downstairs at his shop to receive the first meat shipment. Elton walked into his bedroom; dressing in the uniform he wore everyday. A newly pressed blue shirt, khakis with a very prominent front crease, and brown leather shoes that he replaced every four months. Elton heard the meat truck pull in front of his store. Right on time. He walked down the stairs out into the blistering cold.

            “Eight boxes today Elton,” the truck driver yelled over the rumbling of the engine.

            Elton just nodded, and started to unload the truck, all the while, thinking about the new butchers.

            How could there be another butcher shop? How could the mayor allow them to open one? The more he thought about his competition, the more annoyed Elton became, furious, and by the time he was on the last box of meat, he could feel the vein in his forehead throbbing with anger.

             After all the meat was in the back freezer, Elton got out his knives and bone saws, and turned on the meat grinder. He went to the cash register, and right underneath it, was a stack of brilliant white aprons, never been used. He put one on, smoothing it over his shirt. Carefully he cut apart the carcasses into steaks, shoulders, roasts, and legs. Each piece was the same size, stacked neatly behind the glass. Slowly, he fed the beef through the grinder, making perfectly square sections. He looked at his watch; 7:15. Time to open. He flipped over the sign so the OPEN side was facing out. There were no customers yet, it was too early. Elton just sighed and looked around his store, admiring the shiny black and white checkered floor, and the smudge free glass that protected his meats from the dirty hands of customers.

            Mrs. Aaden, a regular of Elton’s shop was the first shopper, at 8:00.

            “Good morning Elton. How is business going?”

            “Fine as always Mrs. Aaden.”

            “Can I have two pounds of ground beef today please?”

            “Of course you may,” said Elton. He quickly put on a brand new pair of latex gloves, and reached into the meat case. He grabbed two of the square chunks of ground beef, and placed them on the scale.

            1.87 pounds.

            “That’s fine, Elton. I think that will be enough,” Mrs. Aaden said softly.

            Elton felt his chest tighten. He had to make it even. He reached under the counter for another square, replacing it on the scale.

            2 pounds exactly. Elton’s chest relaxed.

            “I’ll give you what you asked for Mrs. Aaden, that’s my job.”

            After Mrs. Aaden left, Elton walked to the garbage can and dropped in his too light chunk of meat, letting it make a loud thud when it hit the bottom.

 

            The day continued without trouble, the regular shoppers trickling in now and then. At 8:30 PM, Elton flipped over the closed sign, removed his apron, and turned off the lights. He walked out onto Main Street. The light from the street lamps spread an orange glow over the snowy sidewalk.

That’s when he remembered about the new butcher shop. He looked down the road, squinting to see the glow from their front window. He figured he would have just enough time to quickly check it out before he had to be home to feed Henrietta her dinner at 8:45. The old Robinson building was on the corner of 3^rd street and Main, just 2 blocks from the Becksjorn Meat Shop. It had stopped snowing, but the temperature had gotten down to the low teens. Elton trudged through the ankle high snow until he got to the store, which had been painted blue, and a neon sign flashed brightly in the window. KELLY BROS. BUTCHERS. Elton pushed open the door, setting off a small jingle from the bell on the handle. Two young men, both with flaming red hair, turned around at the ring.

            “Hello there old timer, what can we get you today?” said one.

            “Perhaps some fresh Halibut? Caught this morning with my very own hands,” said the other, raising both palms above his head.

            Elton looked at the small name tags both had pinned to the blood stained aprons. Jonah, the one who offered fish, had a short beard the same brilliant orange as their hair. The other, Sid, seemed younger, maybe around 25, Elton guessed, and had longer hair and a faint orange mustache.

            “No. I’m just looking,” Elton replied slowly. He couldn’t take his eyes off their aprons, smeared with blood, which had now turned brown. Then he noticed their meat; chunky, uneven. His chest began to tighten, and he could feel his left eye begin to twitch. The air around him began to close in, making his lungs hurt, and his breath shallow. Without saying another word, Elton walked quickly out the door, deeply breathing in the freezing January air. Looking through the glass windows, he could see the two brothers smirking. Elton was never an angry man, but now, he was furious. They were so out of place; such a disruption.

 

At 2:19 AM, lying in his bed, Elton’s eye stopped twitching; he knew exactly what to do about Jonah and Sid Kelly. At 3:27 AM, he knew exactly how to do it.

 

Elton had only been behind the Robinson building once before, but it wasn’t hard to find a place to hide. It was early, almost 4:30, snowing lightly, the snowflakes sticking to his eyelashes. He kept checking his watch, wondering when Jonah and Sid were going to get there for the first meat shipment of the day. At 5:12 he heard the rumble of a truck engine and voices coming from inside the building. He pushed himself further behind the dumpster, covering his nose with his scarf to escape the faint smell of rancid meat. The voices got louder.

“I dunno man, this town is bonkers! I don’t understand how Grandma Katherine lived here for so many years,” said Jonah.

“I know, luckily we have something to do during the day or else I would go insane,” Sid replied.

Their voices faded as the truck roared into the back alley. Elton waited behind the dumpster until the truck drove away, and quietly, padded through the snow back to Main Street, dragging his snow shovel behind him to make sure he didn’t leave any footprints. But this was only the first step in Elton’s elaborate plan. He looked at his watch. 5:16 AM.

Wait. It had been longer than four minutes since he last checked the time.

That couldn’t be right. He stared at his watch. The red second hand twitched, and then stopped dead.

Elton’s eye shuddered. He picked up his speed, still slow weighed down by the metal shovel. He had to get there; being late was never an option. When he got to his store the truck had already arrived, the driver peering through the glass door into the dark butcher shop. Elton waved at the driver and yelled,

“I’ll be there in a minute, let me just go up to my apartment quickly.”

Elton bolted up the stairs and strode over to the drawer by his orange chair. Four brand new watches were lined up neatly. He took off his broken watch and quickly strapped on the new one. He looked at the old grandfather clock to his left, setting the time on his wristwatch, 6:18. Elton breathed deeply, relieved to have order again. He went down the stairs and started unloading the truck, a sly smile spread across his face.          When Elton closed that night at 8:30 PM, the smile was still present, out of place, substituting his ever-present solemn frown.

The next morning, Elton went back to the Robinson building, just as early as before. He had to make sure that the brothers always arrived at the same time. Sure enough, at 5:12, he heard the rumble of a truck, followed by the distant voices of the two young men. Right on time.

At 8:30 that evening, after he had closed for the day, Elton wrapped two brand new butcher knives in that day’s Lastrup Daily Newspaper. He then wrapped them in an old grey t-shirt, carefully folding over the sleeves for the perfect fold, and then stuffed them into his briefcase. He paused for a minute, then walked over to the cash register and placed the black leather case on the shelf next to the stack of crisp white aprons. Satisfied, Elton walked up his stairs to the warmth of his apartment. He walked the familiar seven steps to his orange easy chair, settling into the cushions, sighing deeply. Just the thought of their blood stained aprons and their messy red hair made his eye twitch uncontrollably. He gripped the sides on his chair in anticipation.

Sunday was Elton’s off day. His routine was the same as ever, he got dressed, made his coffee and fed his turtle her two cabbage leaves. But this day would be different than all other Sundays, because today, he would go out. Elton was rarely seen on his day off; he usually spent it inside his house reading one of his ten ancient mystery novels next to his chair. Instead, today, Elton went down his stairs and stepped out into the brisk winter air. He looked down the street, straining his eyes to see the other butcher store. Although it was daytime, the clouds darkened the sky, allowing him to see the faint light from the neon signs. He breathed in deeply, and started drudging down the street. He counted his steps,

“…20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25…” he mumbled under his breath.

It took Elton 46 steps to walk to the Kelly Bros Butcher Shop. He opened the door, the bell on the handle clanging, seeming louder and more annoying than usual.

Elton immediately noticed the floor, smudged, dirty, and wet from the snow from people’s shoes. He controlled his breathing, and tried to keep his eyes from twitching and his heart from racing. He looked up at the two men, and smiled.

“Nice to see you again sir,” said Jonah.

“What can we get for you today?” asked Sid, in the same too-loud voice as his brother.

“I don't know, maybe some steaks,” Elton said slowly, forcing a smile.

“Well, we have some nice ones, we got them yesterday,” Jonah replied.

Old. Not fresh meat. Elton’s eye twitched. He jammed his eyes closed, and then opened them again.

“In that case, I think I’ll pass. Maybe I’ll come back next week,” Elton’s smile turned into a leer as he walked out the door.

 

The morning his plan would be set in motion, Elton was prepared. His backpack was ready with the never been used butcher knives. A change of clothes in case something messy should happen, and his weapon of choice, a steel pipe, capable of causing severe internal trauma without staining the surrounding snow with blood. He also had a pair of latex gloves, washed five times to remove any powder residue on his victims. At 5:12, Elton would be waiting in the alley, behind the dumpster, as before. He would wait until one of them, he hoped it would be Jonah, leaving Sid, the smaller of the two behind. He planned to sneak up behind Sid and silently, but forcefully strike him in the back of the head with the steel pipe, using all the strength he had accumulated over the past 40 years as a butcher. He then would put plastic over Sid's head, to reduce any risk of mess. Elton knew that Jonah would return three minutes later, leaving plenty of time to drag the limp body behind the dumpster out of sight. When the other brother returned, he would wait until his back was turned, and repeat his actions, the whole time making sure the truck driver didn't see anything.

Then came the part that had caused the two week long break in Elton's plan. What would he do with the bodies? He knew he didn't have the strength or the time to drag both bodies all the way to his shop. Finally, he came to a conclusion. He would wait until the truck drove away, unloading the rest of the meat off first, and then, one at a time, drag each body into their own shop's meat freezer.

Later that night he would return, late enough so not to be seen by the surrounding shop owners. Using his meat cutting skills, Elton planned to section their dead and frozen bodies with the knives into perfect cuts of steaks, legs and shoulders. After he did that, he would take their remains out to the dumpster in the alley, knowing full well that it would be no surprise to the investigators that there was old meat in there.

Elton's plan was perfect. Absolutely flawless.

~ ~ ~

            Elton stood in the center of his bedroom. It was early - 4:57 am, and pitch black outside. The excitement of his plan rushed through his veins. He breathed deeply and walked into his kitchen. Suddenly, he lurched forward, tripping on the metal doorway between the hardwood floor and the linoleum. He caught himself on the counter, but pulling himself up, he knocked over his brown coffee mug. It seemed like slow motion as the cup slipped off the counter top, then smashed loudly on the floor sending chunks of ceramic all over the kitchen tiles. As he stood up all the way, he shook his head and tried to relax. He checked his watch. It was 4:59. He had to leave in six minutes and he hadn’t even made his coffee yet. He knew he wouldn’t have time, because it took seven minutes to make his usual cup. He had never skipped his morning coffee, which caused him to feel the seed of anxiety sprouting in his stomach. Elton strode into his living room, but walking faster than usual, on the sixth step his knees smashed into the leg of the small wooden table, which scattered his books all over the floor. Startled, Elton shook his head again and walked over to where his briefcase was leaning against the wall. He picked it up, the weight of the knives and steel pipe inside tugged at his arm muscles. His anxiety was building just thinking about the rush he was going to feel as he slammed their skulls from behind. His hands shook with anticipation as he reached for the doorknob. As he pulled open the door, he jumped at the sound of the newspaper smacking the front door downstairs. He counted the steps down.

            “One, two, three, four, five, siAUGGH!” he yelled as his foot teetered over the edge of the sixth step, sending his heavyset body down, landing close to the bottom. He clutched the banister with his right hand, feeling pain shoot up from his lower back into his shoulder blades.

            Elton groaned, but limped down the last two stairs, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. He felt a bead of sweat on the back of his neck, but quickly wiped it way. He pushed open the door, but to his surprise, it only opened two feet before catching on the newspaper underneath. Elton reached around, picked it up and opened the door all the way. The cold morning air hit his face like a brick. He was about to drop the newspaper on the front step when he noticed the headline. He unfolded the paper and read the huge screaming letters in front of his face. He rubbed his eyes and looked again. He breathed in so sharply he choked.

            Was this really happening?

            In huge letter across the front page, it read,

KELLY BROTHERS FOUND DEAD IN THEIR TRUCK

            Under the headline it read,

BOTH DROWNED WHILE ICE FISHING; TRUCK FELL THROUGH ICE

                Thoughts whizzed through Elton’s head like bees. His eye twitched. All the work he had done and time he had set aside for this, useless. The pain in his back, momentarily forgotten, burned through his skin, while his eye continued to shudder.