The Light at the End of the Tunnel

by James W. Nelson

  Saying he could ever leave this jail, “Hey!” he shouted, “Anybody out there?” It was the loudest he had ever used his voice.

  Second detective Devin soon came to the door and leaned in, “Yeah! Whaddaya want? Ya hungry?”

  “Yeah man! I haven’t ate…hell, I don’t know for how long. How about a burger and a malt?”

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Hey! How about a Coke while you’re gone?”

  “You bet!” The detective’s head disappeared as he closed the door.

  Well, that brought a little action. He would remember the use of his voice next time he wanted something, especially the tone of his voice. The tone he guessed was important, more important even than the words. Even the short time he had been with Jasper the older boy had at least taught him that much, that when he wanted something he had to go after it himself. Nobody was going to do it for him. And the tone of his voice would help make a difference.

  Second detective Devin soon appeared with, “Sorry. No Coke. How about Pepsi?”

  “No prob, man.” He grabbed the can, popped the top, took a long swallow, then noticed Second Detective Devin was still there. “Well, a burger and a malt, man!” He said it kind of sarcastically, and surprised even himself at the tone of his voice.

  “Right away, kid.” The detective disappeared.

  Les Paul felt quite pleased with his newfound power.

  Chapter 33 Meet Patrolman Sikorsky

  “Occasionally they take short side trips to other states, Lieutenant, but mainly they’ve been traveling all through Nebraska and Kansas tracking that kid we’ve got back in lockup,” the uniformed patrolman said, “The one they didn’t talk to.”

  “‘Tracking’ him?” First Detective asked.

  “Yeah. They have seemed to be about two years behind him…” The patrolman stared at his computer screen, “Wow, that kid’s been to a whole bunch of foster homes…must be a hellion.”

  “Yes, ‘hellion,’” First Detective said, “And then what?”

  “Well, the story of the rape of this foster mother must have sort’a closed the gap for’em. They skipped three foster homes and came here instead.”

  First Detective strolled over to the patrolman’s desk, leaned over and looked at the screen. The patrolman pointed, “That’s the town where the kid stayed three foster homes ago.” The patrolman moved his finger to the other column, “And the same town showed a few credit card uses by Radford O’Hare. They’ve been tracking this kid for a few years.”

  First Detective straightened up and massaged his jaw, “I knew there was something about that kid, but I still wonder why….”

  “According to some of the family services—the ones that would talk to me—the PD’s claim to have been hired by the kid’s birth parents to find him.”

  “And now that they’ve found him they’ve run off to Las Vegas and got married.”

  The patrolman nodded, “They must figure they can take a break now…now that they’ve found him.”

  “Tell you what, my boy. I’ve talked to my superiors. I know it’s late in the day, but you go change into civvies, whatever you think would be appropriate for Las Vegas. Be sure of where O’Hare and his new bride are staying and then you go there. Get into their same hotel. Find out what you can of their plans—they haven’t seen or met you, correct?”

  “Correct, sir…well, we did make eye contact just as they were leaving.”

  “Eye contact?”

  “Yes, sir, but just barely.”

  “Fine…and you won’t have your uniform on.”

  “No, sir, and that eye contact was very brief.”

  “Right.”

  “But, at some point,” Sikorsky said, “I think I should make contact, actually introduce myself and….”

  “You do what you think is right, kid. Find out what you can and…when they come back, you come back. If they’ve been trackin’ this kid they’ll be coming right back here. We’ll find out if it’s true that the birth parents hired them, or if something else is going on.”

  “I’d vote on ‘something else,’ sir.”

  “So would I.” First Detective smiled, “Well, patrolman, you print out whatever info you want to take along, give a copy to me, and then get moving. You do this job right you’ll get to take the test to advance. A little early in your career maybe, but, I don’t think you’re too young or inexperienced for a detective’s shield. And, sometime after you get back, our boy Devin—“ he dropped his voice, “—will soon go back into uniform.”

  “Sir…?”

  First Detective and the patrolman looked up to see Second detective Devin just entering and looking their way, and carrying a sack from Burger King and a drink with a straw sticking out.

  “Oh, nothing, Devin,” First Detective said, “We were just wondering if you were getting some food for our young guest…I guess you were.”

  Devin lifted the drink with the straw in toast fashion, then disappeared through the door leading to lockup.

  “I guess I’m surprised Devin isn’t going instead of me, sir.”

  “Sorry to say, but Devin probably would get lost traveling to Las Vegas. No, he’ll be back in uniform before long no matter how well you do, and I do expect you to do well, patrolman.” First Detective leaned over slightly to look at the patrolman’s name tag, “Si-kor-sky…did I pronounce that right?”

  “Perfect, sir.”

  ****

  “I think it’s time we’re heading back, my dear,” the chaplain said, “Les Paul could be anywhere by now. But we at least have a more legitimate way to track him. I suspect the police will be more cooperative than the many family services we’ve dealt with. We maybe didn’t give that station in Brentwood much chance.”

  “I was a bit nervous there but I agree.” Nicole pulled the bedcovers up, then lifted her arms and stretched, “And I think he’s still in jail waiting for the local Family Services to pick him up—he didn’t do anything, Radford.”

  “He maybe didn’t do anything, but, as that one foster parent said, he probably wanted to. And what about Jasper? That boy could rat him out, whether he did anything or not, and whatever, it’s time we get back.” He leaned over and put his right arm over Nicole’s waist. She brought her arms down from her stretch and enveloped him, and kissed him. It still amazed him that this young woman found him so attractive, and he thought about all the years he had remained celibate, and for what?

  To do God’s work? No, celibacy was man’s idea. God wanted man to be married and happy, and through marriage and satisfied happiness men could double God’s work. He had met no other woman who he would have considered marrying anyway, and had thanked God, often, for bringing Nicole to him. He kissed this woman back and they locked into each other’s arms for an invigorating two minutes before he pulled back and just looked at the enchanting young woman in bed with him.

  She sent her most gorgeous smile yet, “Yes, Radford, we need to go.”

  Forty minutes later, refreshed from the shower, they walked into the hotel’s restaurant.

  ****

  Patrolman Sikorsky hadn’t ordered breakfast yet. He had sat down fifteen minutes earlier, ordered coffee, and then had decided to wait, Why not just walk up to them and introduce himself? They would get to know each other, and, eventually, what they’re doing would come out. Probably not quite that easy, but...he could certainly share his job of software sales and they would think nothing of it, but likely they wouldn’t so easily share what they were doing. They might not even share that they’re private detectives. He guessed that a good private detective would be…quite private.

  They made quite a pair. An old man with white hair and a young beauty queen with luscious brunette hair. He suspected she was older than himself though, but still under forty. The man appeared to be fifty or sixty. Of course, who was he to judge? Maybe they got married for other than love and sex. Maybe the woman just wanted a sugar daddy, but then she wouldn’t have needed
to marry him...and a private detective likely wasn’t too rich. Not sugar daddy rich, anyway. Maybe just a matter of convenience, Maybe neither just plain did not want to be alone anymore. Somehow they met, decided to stay together, and then just decided to get married for tax purposes, or insurance, or a nice house. Whatever.

  Sure, one of them had a nice house and simply didn’t want to be alone any more, but still, that gorgeous gal certainly could have found a better man, but then maybe he had the house. But the two have been traveling together for years…just tracking this kid? Nothing was making good sense. He began to consider more strongly just walking up to them and starting to talk.

  Boy, the way his head was working. He should be thinking about his own future. First Detective had all but promised him advancement. Of course he had to pass a test first, but it almost sounded like he would get to partner with First Detective himself. Poor Devin, the man had made detective just a year earlier, but no way had proven himself. Had to be told what to do all the time, told how to fill out reports, and that golden-haired kid had practically led him around by the nose.

  Oh, there they are. The white-haired man and his gorgeous partner. The man looked younger that morning—and why wouldn’t he? Making love with a gorgeous woman like that would keep any man looking young. Certainly they’re making love. Boy, if he was that man, that woman would be locked in his arms every night, and all night. He would let them get settled at least, then he would just take his cup and jug of coffee over and ask to join them. They looked his way. Both of them. They even acted like they knew him. Or maybe they saw him looking at them and were just looking back.

  They reached a table. The white-haired guy pulled her chair out. Wow, don’t see much of that anymore. Maybe that’s why she likes him. Because he’s an old-fashioned gentleman.

  Time to go. Without thinking about it further, Patrolman Sikorsky grasped his half full cup and the jug of coffee, rose, pushed the chair with the backs of his legs, stood, and started for their table.

  ****

  Three couples and one lone young man were seated in the spacious dining area when the chaplain and Nicole came in. They got settled, then that same young man looked up and smiled…in recognition…?

  Who on earth?

  The chaplain didn’t have to wait long for his answer, as the young man stood and started walking toward them.

  “Sikorsky’s my name.” The young man set the coffee pot and his cup down and held out his hand, “Mind if I join you folks?”

  The chaplain stood partway and grasped the young man’s hand and glanced at Nicole. She opened her hands and her expression suggested it was probably permissible.

  “I guess you can, Mr. Sikorsky.” The chaplain squeezed and released, “But…have we ever met…somewhere?”

  “First everybody sit down,” Nicole said, “So we can order.”

  They sat. Sikorsky was first to speak, “We haven’t met, folks, but I’ve been traveling to several towns in my sales position and I’ve seen you folks several times—in the distance, you know…and running into you here in Vegas, well, I just felt it was time for us to meet.”

  “What do you sell?” the chaplain asked.

  The young man’s face colored—for a couple seconds a bright pink just glowed, especially an obvious birthmark on his forehead—but he answered quickly, maybe too quickly, “Software…for…business applications.”

  “Un-huh,” the chaplain said.

  “Yes, mostly I approach small businesses, places that likely have their new computer but don’t really have it up and running good yet—course I do have leads as to where to go.” Most of the young man’s normal color appeared to return, except for a narrow strip from the bridge of his nose leading up into his hair on the left side.

  The chaplain felt pretty sure that the young man did not sell software, but he would move slowly, and he hoped Nicole saw it too. Likely she did, because she missed very little. “So, any luck here in Vegas?” he asked.

  “Luck…? Do you mean…gamboling…?”

  “I think my husband means sales,” Nicole said, “Or maybe small businesses needing software in Vegas are rare.”

  “No, I—I—“

  “So why are you really here, Mr. Sikorsky?” Wow, Nicole is going to take no prisoners this time. “And is that your real name?”

  “Yes. That’s my real name.” Sikorsky smiled and shook his head slightly, “Wow, you folks are quick, so I guess you really are private detectives.”

  “A waitress arrived, “May I take your order here?”

  All three ordered a traditional American breakfast of bacon, eggs, whole wheat toast, and hashbrowns.

  “I want some ham too,” Nicole said, “I’m famished.”

  The young Sikorsky grinned toward her but said nothing.

  “Nicole and I are on our honeymoon,” the chaplain offered, “We need to…rejuvenate, a bit.”

  Sikorsky increased his grin at the chaplain and nodded.

  “We’ll eat first, Mr. Sikorsky,” the chaplain said, “And now that we understand each other better, we can both probably shed some light on how we know each other, and what you actually want from us.”

  “Agreed,” Sikorsky said.

  ****

  “And that’s about the story,” the chaplain said, “We think the nine-year-old boy who goes by the name of Baby Boy-Doe9, is the reincarnation of Les Paul, a worst-of-the-worst criminal, executed by the state nine years ago.”

  “And this book you say you found—“

  “I didn’t just find it,” the chaplain cut in, “I was led to it by a dream that showed a wall-locker in a location where I knew there was no locker. I got out of bed immediately, went there, opened the locker—“

  “It wasn’t locked…?”

  “Who on earth would have locked it?”

  “Pun intended?” asked Sikorsky, who immediately grinned.

  “’Pun intended?’”

  “You said ‘who on earth,’ well, if it had been locked it wouldn’t have been locked by anyone on earth.

  “What…? I don’t understand.”

  “It was a joke, man, I said—“

  “It’s okay, Sikorsky,” Nicole cut in, “My husband sometimes lacks in the humor department. Possibly too much time wearing the cloth.”

  “Cloth…?”

  “A man of God, Sikorsky. My husband is—was—a prison chaplain. I think he made that pretty clear.”

  “Oh, yes. He did.”

  “And to continue,” the chaplain went on, “The book was there, I opened it, and the verse was right there, ‘If the state kills a worst-of-the-worst criminal, that person will reincarnate to be even more evil than he was before.’ Or words to that effect. I only read it the one time. The warden wouldn’t stop the execution, and when I returned to the chapel basement, the locker—and the book—no longer existed.”

  “That’s one hell of a story, my man,” Sikorsky said, “Nicole, do you believe everything? Do you go along with…?” He nodded toward the chaplain.

  “Yes, I do. I consider what happened as a direct communication from God to my husband. Now, what about you, young man? Why have you tracked us down?”

  “It’s my lieutenant back in Brentwood.”

  “The detective we spoke with.” She said as a statement.

  “Yes, he thinks you aren’t really trying to track this kid down for the sake of his birth parents.”

  “Well, he’s definitely right,” Nicole said, “Les Paul’s birth parents abandoned him at a hospital’s back door. He was still an infant.”

  “I’d like to talk to those people, to find out why. Normally babies are abandoned—what?” He glanced at Nicole.

  “The hospital determined from his weight and general health—which was good—about two months old.”

  “So what did that tiny child do to rate abandonment?”

  “I’ll tell you what he did to me!” Nicole’s eyes snapped, “He peed in my face, twice—“

  �
��Which babies have been known to do,” Sikorsky offered.

  “But earlier he grabbed for my boob. My supervisor—the vicious old bag—said he was just hungry, and, for the moment, I accepted that. But when I changed his very clean diaper, he waited till I was wide open and then he let fly! He waited, till he could get me good! And the second time he waited till he was laid down in a fresh new diaper and then he peed, and smirked!”

  “Smirked? You want me to believe a two-month-old baby smirked?”

  “Believe it or not, young man. I was there. You weren’t! The little bastard cost me my job!” Nicole looked to her man and smiled, and took hold of his arm, “But if that hadn’t happened I wouldn’t have met the chaplain here.”

  “Pretty fantastic story, folks, but, I believe you.”

  “What about your lieutenant?”

  “I’ll call him tonight, and I’m pretty sure I can convince him that you folks are on the up and up—I don’t right now know what I’ll tell him, but I won’t tell him this fantastic story.” Sikorsky grinned, then continued, “Not yet, anyway, and maybe I can help you…like, for instance, his birth parents. If reincarnation happened, don’t you think it would have happened very close to where the execution took place?”

  “That makes good sense, honey,” Nicole said, “We thought about that but haven’t gotten to it yet.”

  “It does,” the chaplain agreed, “If we could find the parents we could get their DNA—could you get us Les Paul’s DNA?” he asked Sikorsky, “I mean, the boy you have in lockup?”

  “I’ll ask my lieutenant tonight.”

  “And,” Nicole cut in, “As my husband and I decided awhile back, we—all of us—should continue referring to him only as ‘Baby Boy-Doe9,’ or, for short, ‘Baby Boy.’”

  “You’re right. Of course.” Sikorsky, serious again, shook his head, “I have to wonder, though, how the kid’s doing with other kids, with a name like that. You know how kids are.”