by Jeff Strand
I hung up. When I turned around, the young officer was standing there with a pair of black cops. They were both about forty, heavyset, bald, had thick mustaches, and were identical twins.
“These are SergeantsFrenkle andFrenkle . They’ll hear what you have to say.”
I’D NEVER been in a real interrogation room before, and this one looked just like those I’d seen in the movies. A long table, uncomfortable chairs, bright white lights, everything.
I told them the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Except that I left out the people’s names.
Now, I could have waited for Roger to show up with my I.D., convinced them that I was merely some tired driver who forgot to signal, and then left. But if the killer knew I’d been arrested, he’d naturally assume that I’d spilled my guts, whether I really did or not. So if I was going to be penalized anyway, I decided I might as well talk to them. It’s not like I’d been able to figure things out all by myself. Might as well let them have a shot.
I also considered leaving out thegraverobbing , but quite honestly I was too mentally exhausted to come up with a good cover story as to how I’d become involved. And I didn’t want them to catch me in any inconsistencies. Better to tell the whole truth and worry about the consequences later.
“That’s quite a story,” said Sergeant TonyFrenkle , who was distinguishable from his brother Bruce only by a small mole above his left eyebrow.
“If it’s an excuse to get out of a traffic ticket, it’s the best one I’ve ever heard,” said Bruce.
“Do you believe me?” I asked.
Tony shrugged. “Not really. But you say your friend is on his way with the tape, so we’ll have a look at it together and see if that changes things.”
I checked my watch. Twenty minutes since I’d called Roger. He’d be here any second, as long as Theresa and Kyle weren’t giving him any problems.
“Please, you have to promise me that you’re not going to do any investigating,” I said. “He’ll kill them.”
“Your story isn’t leaving this room for the time being,” Tony assured me. “I am, to get some coffee, but your story stays here.”
“Thank you.”
Bruce asked me some to clarify some parts of the story while we waited for Tony to return. When he did, it was with three cups of the worst coffee I’d ever tasted. The stuff made my tonguewant to leap out of my mouth and never return.
“While we’re waiting, why don’t you tell us your story again, to make sure we’ve got everything straight?” suggested Bruce. What he meant was, tell us the story again so we can try to catch you in a lie.
So I told them the story again.
After about ten minutes, I was starting to get a bit nervous. What was taking Roger so long?
After thirty minutes, I was more than nervous. I was frantic.
After an hour, I was terrified.
Chapter 19
AFTER ANOTHER fifteen minutes, there was a knock on the door. Bruce answered it and stepped outside to speak with somebody. Less than a minute later he returned.
“Your friend, his name is RogerTanglen , right?”
“Yes! Is he here? Does he have my kids?”
“Maybe you should come with me.”
“Why? What happened?”
“Just come with me.”
I followed Bruce and another cop out into the front area of the police station. Tony walked close behind us. I made every effort to think positive thoughts, even though a voice in my head kept shrieking that my children were dead.
As we walked through the front door I saw about five cops crowded around something in the parking lot, partially blocking it from my view. We hurried over to the crowd as the policeman who’d spoken to Bruce shouted for them to clear a path. The cops stepped aside to let us through, revealing what they were gathered around.
Roger.
He was standing against a large plank of wood, about the size of a door.In fact, itprobablywas a door. Bands fastened his legs at the ankles, and another band wrapped around his neck.
His eyes were wide and frightened. Duct tape over his mouth looked like it was wrapped all the way around his head. Above his head, neon orange letters proclaimed that this was “The Dismemberment Game!” Smaller letters in black magic marker said “Starring RogerTanglen and Andrew Mayhem.” A note taped to Roger’s chest read “Pigs, stay away! This is Andrew’s game.”
Fixed to the door were six machete blades, the flat edge of each blade on the wood. The bottom of each blade was attached to a mechanism that was clearly designed to swing it. A blade on each side of his head was positioned to lop off his arms at the shoulder, while blades on each side of his waist were positioned to lop off his legs. A blade next to his right shoulder was set to decapitate him. The sixth blade was at the very bottom of the door, resting on the pavement perpendicular to the door. Between Roger’s legs there was an enormous slab of raw meat, probably a cow flank.
“Oh dear Lord…” whispered Tony.
“All right, everyone back!” shouted Bruce, waving his arms. “Clear some space! We need anything solid we could use to block those knives!”
I walked up to the door. “Can anyone get a chainsaw or something to cut him free?”
The officer closest to the door shook his head. “Look at the back.”
I did so. From behind, I could see that the door was propped up by two pieces of wood at the bottom. The entire back of the door was a maze of what must have been thousands of multi-colored wires. Connected to the door by several other wires was a laptop computer, which the cop who’d taken my fingerprints currently had balanced on his palm.
“We don’t know which one of those wires will spring the machete blades,” said the fingerprint cop. “If we cut the wrong one, it could go off.” He extended the laptop toward me. “Take this. It’s for you.”
I took the laptop from him and looked at the low-resolution, black-and-white display. “GET ANDREW MAYHEM,THEN PRESS ANY KEY. YOU HAVE 43 SECONDS REMAINING.” The countdown continued.
“Don’t press it yet,” said the fingerprint cop. “We need as much time as possible to figure out a way to get him out of this.”
The wires were long enough that I could walk around to the front of the door while still holding the laptop. I looked up at Roger and asked “He’s got Kyle and Theresa, hasn’t he?”
Roger gave me a small nod, and then closed his eyes.
Only sixteen seconds remained on the display. I couldn’t panic. I couldn’t lose it. I had to stay calm, focus, and make everything all right.
When only three seconds remained, I pressed the space bar. A new message appeared: “ENTER YOUR MOTHER’S MAIDEN NAME.”
With my free hand I typed inKENDALL and hit return.
“BAD BOY, ANDREW.I SAID NO COPS. I’D PLANNED TO SAVE THIS GAME FOR A LITTLE LATER, BUT YOU’VE FORCED ME TO RUSH THINGS.TOO BAD FOR YOU.AND ROGER.”
The screen went blank,then a new message appeared. “YOU MUST ANSWER FIVE QUESTIONS CORRECTLY. EACH TIME YOU MISS, ROGER LOSES AN APPENDAGE.”
“My God,whois this guy?” asked Tony, looking at the screen.
“I don’t know.”
The number 10 appeared at the bottom of the screen, and went down by one with each passing second.“PRACTICE QUESTION. WHO WAS THE TWELFTH PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES?”
“Who was our twelfth president?” I shouted. The cops began discussing it amongst themselves, and one counted on his fingers while reciting names.
“Hurry!I only have three seconds!”
“Tyler!” said the guy counting on his fingers. “No, no,Taylor ! Zachary Taylor!”
I typed in T-A-Y…
“TIME’S UP.”
The bottom machete blade swung upward like an enormous mousetrap going off. It split through the meat and smashed into the wood with aloudthunk! The top of the blade came less than an inch from splitting Roger’s jeans and the sensitive parts beneath them. Then it swung back and returned to its o
riginal position.
There was a gasp of shock from the crowd of police officers. Roger’s eyes were closed so tightly that his head looked ready to burst.
“QUESTION ONE. RIGHT ARM. WHICH SKULL WEARS THE COWBOY HAT?”
Which one?Gaggles or Boo-Boo? I couldn’t remember!
No, it had been Gaggles, right?
Five seconds remained. No time to replay the video in my mind. I typed GAGGLES and hit enter.
“CORRECT. RIGHT ARM SPARED.”
I let myself breathe a sigh of relief.
“QUESTION TWO. LEFT ARM.WHICH SKULL BIT FIRST?”
I definitely knew this one.Boo-Boo.
I typed in BOO-BOO. Enter.
“CORRECT. LEFT ARM SPARED.”
If they were all questions from the video, I could handle this. I’d certainly been paying attention when I watched it.
“QUESTION THREE. RIGHT LEG. WERE THERE MORE OR FEWER THAN FIFTY BITES THAT KILLED THE WOMAN ON THE BED?”
I didn’t know! Possibly more than fifty, but I hadn’t counted.
I typed in MORE.Hesitated for a couple of seconds. Then hit return.
“CORRECT.FIFTY-EIGHT, TO BE EXACT. RIGHT LEG SPARED.”
If that question ever popped uponJeopardy I’d be set.
“QUESTION FOUR. LEFT LEG. IN MULTIPLES OF FIVE MINUTES, HOW LONG DOES IT TAKE TO CLEAN UP AFTER THE AVERAGE GHOULISH DELIGHTS MURDER-ON-TAPE?”
How the hell was I supposed to know that?
“Give that here!” said Tony to someone behind me. As he walked up to the door, I saw that he held a metal pipe, about two feet long. Bruce stepped forward and each of them took an end. “Left leg, correct?” he asked me.
“Correct!” Three seconds remained on the timer.
I typed 60 and at the last second hit enter.
“WRONG. THE CORRECT ANSWER IS 45. LEFT LEG SEVERED.”
The blade positioned by his left leg swung with incredible force, striking the metal pipe with aloudclang. Bruce and Tony both let out a grunt as the pipe was wrenched out of their grasp. It slammed against Roger’s leg with a sound that had to be bone breaking. Roger let out a muffled cry of pain.
The blade swung back to its original position.
Roger was badly hurt, but at least he still had his leg.
“FINAL QUESTION.NECK.”
“The next one’s going for his neck!” I shouted. Bruce and Tony quickly positioned the pipe so that it would block the blade, and two other cops joined to help them hold it.
“WHO AM I?”
If I knew that, I wouldn’t have been in this situation to begin with! Carl, Farley, Dominick, Linda…maybe even Rachel…who could itbe ?
I had a one in five chance of guessing correctly.
One in four, if I discounted Rachel.
Even if the pipe stopped the blade from cutting him, if I got this wrong my best friend was going to end up with a broken neck.
Five seconds.
I typed in CARL.
Three seconds.
I placed my finger over the enter key.
Two seconds.
No! The odds were too much against me!
Better to try something where Ididn’tknow the odds.
I spun around and flung the laptop into the air as hard as I could. The wires connecting it to the door snapped.
The bottom blade snapped up, slamming into the wood between Roger’s legs again.
A split-second later, the blade to the right of Roger’s waist sprung. The cops spun the pipe downward, and the bottom of it passed in front of Roger’s right leg an instant before the blade hit. Though there were four cops holding it, the pipe was still wrenched away from them, and crunched against Roger’s leg in the same area as before, but at a new angle. Roger shrieked beneath the tape.
The blade to the left of Roger’s waist sprung, slamming against the opposite blade.
The blade on the right side of Roger’s head, the one intended to chop off his right arm, sprung, coming down upon the upper end of the pipe and crushing it into his shoulder. It was immediately followed by the blade on the left side of his head, which struck the right blade and elicited another shriek from Roger.
The blade aimed at Roger’s neck sprung. It connected with the other two blades, giving the pipe against his shoulder a third slam.
And that was it.
Roger remained fastened to the door, probably with a shattered leg and shoulder. But he still had his head. He’d live.
“We need some saws and a metal cutter!” shouted Bruce, but somebody had already retrieved the metal-cutting shears. While the cop with the shears went to work on the band around Roger’s right leg, Tony pulled out a pocketknife and began to cut through the duct tape.
He ripped the tape away from Roger’s mouth, and Roger spoke in a weak voice. “Under my shirt…an envelope…”
I lifted his shirt to reveal an envelope folded into quarters and taped to his chest. I pulled it off, tore it open, and read the letter inside.
“So, how does your friend look without his head? Sorry that there was no correct answer to the last question, but I couldn’t give anything away incase you made a lucky guess. You’re probably wondering what happened to your kids. Are they still alive? Did I chop their heads off, too?Nope, not yet. I’ll save that for later, unless you cooperate. We’ll consider your involvement with the cops an unfortunate little detour that cost your friend his life. If you ever want your kids back, you’ll proceed exactly as planned. Go home and relax, then come to the taping. Join the fun. Try to solve the mystery. Otherwise I’ll get to add a new age bracket to the listofGhoulish Delights stars. So you make sure those pigs stay out of it. I have insiders on the force, so don’t try anything remotely sneaky. If I get the slightest bit suspicious, your son and daughter will be screaming in pain for days, and they’ll be dead for months before you find them. Got it? Good.”
I touched my hand to my cheek. I hadn’t even realized I was crying.
“I’m so sorry, Andrew…” said Roger. They were having trouble getting the metal band off his arm, and it didn’t look like he’d be free anytime soon. “I didn’t see it coming.”
“Do you know who it was?”
“No. I was knocked out with something, and when I came to I was in the back of a van. I couldn’t see who was doing it…I was just dumped off here.”
“Was it more than one person?”
“I don’t think so. They used a cart or something, so one person could have done it alone.”
I turned toward the crowd of police officers. “I have to go home,” I said. “I have to find the person who did this on my own. He has my kids and he has four other prisoners. If he thinks there’s any police involvement, any at all, he’ll kill them. He doesn’t want anyone else playing his game.”
“That’s crazy,” said Bruce. “You’ve got it narrowed down to five suspects. We’ll just round `emup and bring `emin!”
“No! If he sees any cops, my kids are dead! He’ll kill them before you finish knocking!”
“We at least can have people keep an eye on you,” said Tony. “Plainclothes cops. They’ll blend in. He’ll never know they’re there.”
I shook my head. “Please, you’ve got to stay completely out of this. All of you.” I pointed to The Dismemberment Game. “Look at what kind of stuff this guy sets up! I mean, do you honestly believe he’ll hesitate to kill my children? I don’t know what his resources are, I don’t know who he has working for him, I don’t know anything except that if thereisany police involvement in this matter, there’s a really good chance that I’ll never see my kids alive again. Please, let me do what I have to do.”
A middle-aged man in gray pants and a rumpled dress shirt stepped forward. “My name is JamesGeldern , Chamber County Chief of Police. We’ll get your friend out of there. Go get your kids.”
“I mean it, you can’t have me followed,” I insisted.
“We won’t have you followed. The mind that created a contraption like this is
not the kind of mind I want to make angry. Now get the hell off police property before something like this happens again.”
“Thank you.” I looked at Roger. “You’ll be okay, don’t worry.”
“I’m sorry, Andrew…I tried to do something but I…”
“Forget about it. It wasn’t your fault.”
I walked away from the police parking lot and onto the sidewalk. Theresa and Kyle would be okay. Everything would turn out okay. It had to.
In my mind I heard the delighted cackle of a wicked witch. “Would you like to see my little puppet show,dearies ? Fifty-eight bites between the two of you! Don’t forget, my puppets love it when youscreeeeeeeaaaaaaaaam .”
Chapter 20
TWO BLOCKS from the police station I reached a pay phone. It had to be safe to call a cab…the killer couldn’t expect me to spend a couple of hours walking home. After being told the cab would be there in about ten minutes, I leaned against the brick wall of a hardware store and waited.
Sharpened skull fangs, digging into Kyle’sleg ….
No! That wasn’t going to happen!
I had to put my kids out of my mind and focus on the problem. Focus on the riddle.
One after the creation of the other.
Letters to grandma and a condom.
What did a letter create?Happiness.Knowledge.Waste paper. What else?Aletterwas a creation, not something that created.
What could possibly be the creation of a condom, besides something icky to throw away after it was used?A sense of security?A sense of protection?
How could any of this relate to the video?
I kicked the wall in frustration.
Okay, I had another problem to deal with. Should I call Helen and tell her that our kids were currently in the hands of a murderer?
All my instincts said no, absolutely not. Because Helen would certainly not sit in her hospital bed and wait for news. She might demand that the police try to find her babies. She might hop into a wheelchair and look herself.
No, I couldn’t tell her. It was too dangerous.
If Theresa and Kyle died, she’d hate me forever.
No she wouldn’t. She would never hate me.
Ididn’tthink she would.