Imp

by Andrew Neiderman

  He wasn’t going to analyze any of this; but, throughout the day, certain images had lingered on the surface of his mind, and he knew that it was because of those feelings and thoughts that he was so eager to enter his home and close the door on the world outside. He was even haunted by an odor. As ridiculous as it might seem to someone else, he was sure he had caught the scent of Death when he visited The Oaks, and that scent remained with him all day. He hardly ate his lunch because of it.

  Being a policeman and a wild game hunter, he had smelled it many times. Caked blood, battered flesh, the carcasses of animals, and the bodies of traffic accident victims all produced that same revolting putrescence. Once he came upon it, whether it happened in the evening or early in the morning, it lingered about him. One of the first things he did after such experiences was take a long and soapy shower. Even so, it usually took him a while to get the scent from his mind. Today, although he had seen nothing dead and had handled no fatal accidents, he carried such an impression of death in his mind, that he thought he detected the odor everywhere, even in George’s Luncheonette. It was only now, when he pulled up to the brightness of his own home, that the images diminished. He was glad of that.

  He hated bringing his work home with him. Instead, he enjoyed listening to Barbara’s school stories. It didn’t take much to get her going and he so relished sitting back and watching her dramatically relate something “outrageous” that one of her students had done or one of her fellow teachers had said. Barbara had been a teacher for some time now, and despite the radical changes in the job and in the nature of the students, she still had a new teacher’s idealism and enthusiasm. He didn’t know whether to term it naiveté or faith, but she always gave the child the benefit of the doubt. He was reminded of the movie, Boys Town and Spencer Tracy. “There’s no such thing as a bad boy.”

  “There’s always a reason why one of them acts up,” Barbara said. “If you knew some of their home lives …”

  “I know some.” He usually didn’t interrupt her when she went on and on, at least not until she got very excited and her face turned red with emotion. Then he would simply have one of his laughing smiles on his face and she would stop abruptly in the middle of a sentence. Her hands would go to her hips and she would stamp her foot.

  “You’re teasing me again, Edward Allen Morris.”

  “No, honest.” He quickly cleared the smile off his face and tried to look attentive, but she saw through him every time. Sometimes she threw a dish towel at him and swore she would never discuss her school problems with him again. Sometimes she ignored him and went on until one of the children distracted her.

  Once, he half seriously said, “What about those kids who are pure evil and would be in trouble no matter what their home lives were?”

  “I don’t believe there’s any such thing, Eddie. You’d have to believe in the existence of the Devil.”

  “Sometimes … I do,” he said, but he said it too softly for her to hear.

  Now, as he sat there in his car, he thought about that conversation again. Toward the end of the day, driven partly by curiosity and partly by this unexplainable sixth sense, his “policeman’s sense,” he had decided to go back to Wildwood Drive and visit the O’Neils. He knew Dick O’Neil all his life, Dick having been only two years ahead of him in school. When he arrived there, Dick hadn’t yet returned from work, but Cindy seemed sincerely grateful that he had taken the time to stop by.

  “I just heard today what had happened to your little boy,” he told her, “while I was investigating another matter on this road.”

  “Come on in, Eddie.” She stepped back to make way for him. He took off his hat and entered the house. He had been there only a few times before, back when he was in high school, but he remembered Dick O’Neil’s father, a giant of a man with wrists as thick as most men’s forearms. He recalled being at Slat’s Garage in Centerville one afternoon when John O’Neil and Gary Slat had a contest to see who could hold a twelve pound, short sledge hammer straight out the longest. John won by a good ten seconds more. Eddie was already fourteen, but neither he nor any of his friends could hold it out for more than a second or two. Most couldn’t even hold it straight out.

  “Been a while since I was here,” he said, looking around. “I always admired this house.” Cindy smiled.

  “Dick’s great grandfather and grandfather built it.”

  “I know. Solid,” he said. Little Billy O’Neil appeared in the living room doorway just off to the right. “Hello there. How’re you doing?” Eddie asked, noting how the boy’s arm bulged from the bandages under his shirt. Billy didn’t say anything. He just eyed him curiously for a moment and then ran through the hallway to the stairs so he could go up to his room.

  “Billy!” Cindy shook her head. “He hasn’t been the same since …”

  “Oh, it takes time to get over something like that. I remember when this stray cat scratched me. I was stupid enough to go for it. It got infected and I had to go to the doctor. Been a little timid about cats ever since.” Cindy nodded, but he felt she wasn’t in complete agreement.

  “Come on in; come on in. Can I get you a cup of coffee or…”

  “No thanks, Cindy. I was just wondering … did Dick confirm what he originally believed happened?”

  “Confirm? Oh. Well, he didn’t go out there looking for the animal. There are so many of them, anyway, but the doctor seemed to think that what he thought was probably what happened.”

  “Your older boy …”

  “Bobby?”

  “Yeah, he wasn’t with Billy at the time?”

  “No. He’s not home from school yet, anyway. He had to run some errands for Dick. They’re building a deck for the Millers.”

  “Nice feeling when your son works right beside you. So,” he said, not sure of where he was going with his questions, “Billy was out by himself that day?”

  “Yeah, but he won’t go anywhere alone now,” she said sadly.

  “Understandable. I tell you, those raccoons …”

  “He won’t let go of his story,” she said quickly, as though she just had to get it out. “And he’s been having nightmares. I have to leave the light on in his room.”

  “His story? A lot different from what Dick thinks, is it?” She nearly laughed and then a thought occurred to her.

  “You know,” she said, “maybe if you spoke to him, being a policeman and all, maybe he would …”

  “Sure, be glad to,” he said.

  “Thanks.” She went to the bottom of the stairway and called up to Billy. He came to the top of the stairs slowly and looked down at them. Eddie didn’t know the boy, but he did note what he thought to be an unusual timidity. He looked pale and small, like a child who was constantly beaten. “Officer Morris wants to talk to you, Billy. Come on down.”

  “No, I don’t want to,” he said and turned and ran back to his room.

  “Billy!”

  “Hold it, Cindy,” Eddie said. “Let me see what I can do.” He started up the stairs.

  “First room on the left,” she said.

  When he reached Billy’s doorway, he paused and looked in. Billy was sitting on his bed fingering some toy soldiers. Eddie knocked on the doorjamb.

  “Can I come in?” he asked. Billy shrugged and continued to look down at his toy soldiers. Eddie walked in and looked around the room. “Nice room,” he said. “Oh, you’ve got an Atari, huh? My son Carl’s got that other one, what’s it called …”

  “Intellivision?”

  “Yeah, I think that’s it. You have Naval War?”

  “No.”

  “I like that one, but I don’t get to use it much,” Eddie said and put on a look of disgust. Billy smiled. Eddie walked to the window across from the bed and looked down at the O’Neils’ backyard. He could see The Oaks looming across the field. It looked gray and quiet, yet somehow ominous as well. Then he saw the O’Neils’ dog chained beside its doghouse. “Oh, so there’s your dog.”

&
nbsp; “Captain,” Billy said.

  “Captain, huh? Nice dog.”

  “My father says we got to keep him chained up on account of … on account of what happened.”

  “He does, huh? Well, I’m sure he doesn’t want any more problems.”

  “Captain doesn’t want to be chained up.”

  “Maybe it’s for his own good, though. This time of the year, they go off chasing so many animals, especially raccoons. Some dogs just have it in them to go after coons. I had a dog like that once.”

  “It wasn’t a coon,” Billy said. He said it so defiantly that Eddie understood the boy was tired of repeating his tale.

  “Oh, it wasn’t?”

  “No.” Billy looked back at his toy soldiers.

  “Yeah, well you know when people are in a dangerous situation, they often get confused. I see it all the time in police work, you know,” he said and Billy looked up with interest. “Like when someone sees a bad accident or maybe a fight … things often get mixed up. It takes time and careful investigation to straighten it all up.”

  “I’m not mixed up,” Billy said, “because I saw it before.”

  “Before? Before what?”

  “Before he hurt me,” he said, holding up his arm for emphasis. “He was out there and Captain was barking at him and I looked out the window and saw him.”

  “Saw who?”

  Billy snapped his mouth closed and looked down again. Cindy O’Neil had come to the bedroom doorway and stood just outside, trying to be inconspicuous.

  “If it’s something unusual, maybe I should know. I have to keep the police department on alert, you know.”

  Billy looked up and searched Eddie’s face for sincerity. Eddie kept his look as stern as he could.

  “It was an E.T.,” Billy said. For a moment Eddie continued to stare at him.

  “An E.T.?”

  “Like in the movie.”

  “Oh. Oh, yeah, yeah. Why don’t you describe him to me?” Eddie said and took a small note pad out of his back pocket. Billy’s eyes widened when Eddie clicked his pen and sat on the little chair across from him. “Now remember what I told you about people getting confused, so give me only what you’re sure you remember.”

  “OK,” Billy said. His eyes grew smaller as he focused on his memory. Eddie was both amused and impressed with the boy’s determination. “He was only about up to here on me,” Billy said, pointing to his chest. “But his hair was down to his shoulders. He had big eyes and a funny nose that moved like a rabbit’s.”

  “Rabbit’s?” Eddie said, looking up.

  “Uh huh.” Then Billy smiled. “He wasn’t wearing any clothes either.”

  “What did he do to you?”

  Billy stopped smiling and pressed his lower lip under his teeth. His eyes took on the inner terror as he ran his left hand softly over his right arm.

  “He … he grabbed me and scratched me with his fingers.”

  “His fingers?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Was there any hair on his arms?”

  “Nope.”

  “Did he make any noise?”

  “Noise?”

  “When he scratched you. Like a bark or a growl or…”

  “He screamed like a baby,” Billy said quickly. “Is he gonna come back here?”

  Eddie shook his head. “No, no. Why do you think he grabbed your arm?” Billy looked guilty. “Did you do something to him?”

  “I just reached toward him.”

  “Oh.” Eddie shot a glance toward the doorway. “Did you tell your parents that?” Billy shook his head. “So you must have scared him, huh?”

  “I don’t know. I kept telling him I wanted to be friends.”

  “Yeah, but maybe he hadn’t seen anything like you before. Don’t you think that might be it?”

  “Maybe,” Billy said. “Maybe he went back to space, huh?” he asked hopefully.

  “Oh I’m sure that’s what he did. Maybe he had gotten lost in the first place and his parents found him. I wouldn’t worry about him anymore. He’s probably telling stories about you.”

  Billy started to smile, but then remembered something else.

  “Captain still barks a lot at night.”

  “There are a lot of things for him to bark at, especially this time of the year.” Eddie closed his notebook. “That’s why your father is right about keeping him close to the house.”

  Billy nodded and Eddie stood up. He walked over to him and put his hand on the little boy’s head.

  “There’s nothing to worry about, Champ. You’re safe now. I’ll report this to all the other policemen and they’ll be on the lookout anyway, OK?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Tell me one more thing, Billy. You didn’t see any pet rabbits around, did you? I mean, one with a leash or a collar?”

  “Pet rabbits? No. I saw rabbits, though.”

  “OK. Best thing now is for you to forget it, but just to make you feel safe when you’re outside …” Eddie snapped the whistle off his belt chain and handed it to Billy. “This is an official police whistle. If you see anything that scares you, just blow it, and anyone who hears it will know.”

  “Thanks,” Billy said, eyeing it like it was the most valuable gift he had ever received.

  “I’ll be seeing you, OK?”

  “OK.”

  “Don’t go blowing that in the house now.”

  “I won’t.” He thought for a moment. “Maybe I should go outside and test it.”

  “Maybe you should,” Eddie said and walked out. Cindy greeted him in the hall.

  “That was very nice, Eddie. I’m sure it’s going to help,” she said. The words were no sooner out of her mouth when Billy ran by. “Button your jacket,” she called as he went down the stairs. They laughed.

  “He had quite a scare. I’m sure that’s why he came up with such a story. The way he described the scream makes me think Dick’s right. Those raccoons can sound like little babies.”

  “Sure.” They stopped at the doorway. “Why did you ask him about pet rabbits?”

  “Oh, that’s what I was checking on earlier today. Cy Baum had a problem with pet rabbits … someone stealing them, hurting them, that sort of thing.”

  “Terrible.”

  “Yeah. OK.” He stepped out.

  “Thanks again,” she said.

  He got into the car and drove off, gazing only perfunctorily at The Oaks as he passed it on the way home. Even so, the image of it set against a darkening gray sky lingered in his mind now as he remained in his vehicle in his driveway.

  Barbara opened the front door of the house and stepped toward him. He turned and looked at her almost as though he were looking through her.

  “What are you going to do?” she asked. “Sit in your car until supper?”

  “What?” He smiled at himself and got out. “Watch-in’ me, huh?”

  “Carl pointed you out. He said Dad’s just sitting in his car for the longest time.” Her face turned to concern as he approached. “Trouble?”

  “I don’t know. Probably not. I’ll tell you about it later,” he said and put his arm around her waist. Then he kissed her, the kiss lasting a little longer than usual. When they parted, she looked at him askance.

  “There’s something bothering you, Eddie Morris.”

  “I’m hungry, that’s all. What’s for supper since you’re using it to tempt me inside?”

  “I am not, even though it happens to be one of your favorite gourmet meals. I just got into the mood,” she explained. He stopped at the doorway.

  “What?”

  “Rabbit,” she said.

  Cy Baum checked his basement door again. The original lock that had been sufficient all these years had suddenly looked puny to him and to Hilda, so he went downtown to Mac’s hardware store and bought a hasp and a padlock. Naturally, there was a card game going on in the rear of the store. When it was interrupted so that Mac could get up to serve him, all of Mac’s cronies became int
erested in what Cy wanted and why. There’s no need for a newspaper in this hamlet, he thought. His story set off a whole slew of “I remembers,” and it was nearly a half hour before he got out of there.

  He didn’t like having to double up on his door locks. It made him feel like those old people he saw on the television news. Some of them had four or five locks on their apartment doors in the city; some had taken to having watchdogs and installing alarm systems. “It’s a helluva way to grow old,” he said and he felt thankful that he still lived in an area where such crimes against the elderly were practically nonexistent. He couldn’t remember ever feeling insecure in his own home.

  Now, here he was testing the firmness of two locks on his basement door. He looked back at Gina and the rabbit and shook his head. Once again, with a new leash, the rabbit was tied securely to the post. Gina had placed a small plate of lettuce in front of him and stood by watching him nibble peacefully on his food. The animal looked content. Perhaps the bizarre incidents were over, Cy thought.

  “You think Daddy’s going to let me take him back with us, Grandpa?”

  “I think your grandmother’s going to convince him of that,” Cy said and laughed. “OK,” he said. “I think it’s time we went back upstairs now. You’ve got to wash up for supper. He’ll be all right.”

  Gina nodded, knelt down, and stroked the rabbit a few times. Then she turned and headed up the stairway. Cy went to the leash and tested it one more time. His eyesight wasn’t spectacular anymore, but it was remarkably good for a man of his age. He never suffered from cataracts or glaucoma, and he hadn’t even taken to wearing reading glasses until he hit sixty-five. That’s why he often wondered why Arnie had such bad vision. He blamed it on Hilda’s side of the family. She did have a younger brother who was terribly nearsighted.