Inside the Executive's Pocket

by Etta Faire

  Three more shots rang into the crowd. I got up and followed the smart people who were running to what seemed like the safest spot behind the big wig’s cars, even with thirty people crouching there, clinging to one another.

  I looked around, finding and counting people. Old George, Mrs. Nebitt, Shelby, even the mayor…

  The need to pee came over me, hard and heavy. Mind over matter, I told my bladder like I was in a garage in 1978.

  This was not how I expected this to go. Not at all.

  Chapter 31

  the things at stake

  The bigwigs pulled their guns from their holsters and crouch-ran through the thinning green smoke from the car to the table and toward the sound of the gunshots. I was never happier to have the fake police officers here now. Every last one of them.

  I could see the seance area clearly again, when I dared to peek out of my hiding spot. A large man in a dark hoodie sat on the ground by the back of the chairs, holding his shoulder.

  Someone was hurt. Shelby’s dad noticed too and pointed at the figure. He was a firefighter and I could tell his first responder instincts were kicking in.

  “Dad, don’t,” Shelby yelled, but her dad was already heading over to the injured person.

  “Stay here,” Justin said to me, before rushing off with Mr. Winehouse, like I needed a reminder not to run into bullets. I hadn’t heard any in a while, but the bigwigs hadn’t caught anyone yet, so I was staying put.

  The police had split up, though. Three of them were over at the old drive-in, inching along one of the dilapidated walls at the snack shop while three others were in the woods, looking around couple’s path.

  “My dad,” Shelby said. “He’s going to get himself killed one of these days, helping people.”

  “Justin too.” Justin’s thick dark hair blew in the wind as he called through his radio for an ambulance while Mr. Winehouse ripped up Rosalie’s good seance tablecloth to wrap the man’s shoulder with, something Rosalie was not going to be happy about.

  They helped the man stand and hobble over to the rest of us and I caught his face. Thick and pale with a goatee.

  Bruce Darcy.

  “Looks like he’s going to be okay,” Mr. Winehouse said. “Just a scratch.”

  “A big scratch.” Bruce shook his head. “I should sue.”

  Sylvia rolled her eyes at her brother. “He hasn’t changed one bit,” she said.

  I turned to him. “You thought you were giving Rebecca a reason to kill that night in 1978. You were really giving Paul Gelling.”

  “That makes no sense.”

  Justin pointed to the drive-in where the bigwigs were yelling, “Drop your weapon” into the forest. “I guess we’ll find out if you’re right and that’s Paul Gelling over there,” he said. But no one came out.

  My knee still stung from my fall, and I rubbed it while I watched the bigwigs inching toward the forest. “Oh, I don’t actually think that’s Paul Gelling, Myrna’s boyfriend, the Vietnam vet.”

  “Changing your story already?”

  “Nope. Just continuing. That crime scene was a mess, and the killer had plenty of time to clean it up. Someone in the military would have known the incriminating things to get rid of. Shell casings, trash, grenade spoons. A Vietnam vet also would have known what a spoon on a grenade was, and Pastor Paul over there had no clue. Not that you would have known that part.”

  Justin turned his head to the side. “Are you saying that’s…”

  “Jay Hunt. Yes. I’m not sure, but I’d bet my house on it, and I’m starting to like my house. He killed his friend along with everyone else that night…”

  I barely got the words out. Sylvia disappeared from my side.

  I looked around at the members of my town, the faces of the people who needed closure on this as much as I did. We were all sitting behind the bigwigs’ cars in the cold afternoon, wondering if the gun man about to be arrested was the worst thing to come out of the Dead Forest today.

  About six bigwigs with guns drawn moved slowly toward the forest just as a man in black stumbled out of it like he was being shoved forward by an unseen force. He fell hard onto the ground, his face smacking into the dirt. And he quickly put his hands up and gave up.

  Sylvia was finally getting her revenge.

  I went on, explaining things to the people around me. “After everyone turned up dead, Myrna couldn’t handle it. She had played both sides. And helping her boyfriend that night with an alibi so no one would know he was out here roughing Curtis and Rebecca up probably was too much for her.”

  “The anniversary,” Bruce said. “Then when Paul was nowhere to be found the next day, she snapped.”

  I nodded. “And told you how you should go to the police.”

  Bruce held his shoulder, grimacing at the pain.

  I continued. “Jay slashed the bodies up, so it would look like a shifter attack, and also so people wouldn’t know he hadn’t died.”

  Justin leaned an elbow on the hood. “Should be easy to find out conclusively if that’s Paul or Jay. Paul was ex-military, so his fingerprints should be on file.”

  Rosalie stood up. “Well, that was one seance I could have done without.” She pointed at Bruce’s shoulder. “And is that my good tablecloth?” She turned to Mr. Winehouse. “You cut up my tablecloth for a scratch?”

  I heard the ambulance coming for Bruce in the distance. He was lucky the Paul Gelling in the forest wasn’t nearly as good a shot as the real Paul Gelling probably would have been.

  “I wonder how long Jay had been lurking in the forest, watching for Bruce so he could take his anger out on him,” I said. “I don’t think he realized up until recently that Bruce and Myrna had been his blackmailers.”

  Bruce didn’t say anything. He lowered his head, tugged on his shoulder.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a shadow, running in the woods toward couple’s path. It was the same boxy dark figure as before. The thing Jean thought was a vampire. I lost my train of thought, following it, wondering what to do. I couldn’t just follow it now, could I? Not with everyone watching me so closely.

  Jean didn’t wonder and she didn’t hesitate. She unzipped the duffle bag by her feet that she’d apparently taken with her when she was running from the bullets, pulled out a thick wooden stake that was as long as her forearm, and took off into the Dead Forest, hiking up her blue velour sweatpants the whole way.

  Everyone turned and gasped.

  I smiled as I watched her, never happier that there weren’t any bigwigs around to stop her.

  Everyone stared at me for an explanation. I was answer-lady, after all.

  When I didn’t do or say anything, they slowly moved closer to the forest, but no one went in it. They stood just far enough away to see, talking about the rumors that involved man-eating shapeshifters dragging victims off and people becoming disoriented.

  Marylou Marvelton tugged at one of her necklaces. “Oh my Lord,” she said, turning to Mrs. Carmichael. “She’s gonna turn up mutilated like those kids in that incident, that’s for sure.” Her face went ghost white, making me realize my seance had been a flop. No one believed the real story behind the incident. But at least the food had been good.

  “That woman’s loony,” old George said, his neck bones protruding through his thin skin as he strained to see into the forest. “Has to be loony to go into the Dead Forest like that.”

  “Last month, you went in there,” Mrs. Carmichael reminded him, looking over at me, shaking her head, as if to say “See? Dementia.”

  The ambulance blared its siren, kicking rocks and dirt as it made its way down the narrow path leading to the drive-in.

  Justin put his hand on my shoulder. “Not exactly how I pictured this going, but good job. I think you may have solved another cold case,” he said, making me smile. “Now, if somebody could only solve the reason Rosalie’s cousin ran into the woods…”

  “You already know, Ricky,” I said, pecking him on the cheek. “
It’s the same reason I have to get in your show.” Before he had time to process what I meant, I took off past my seance setup and into the nearby clearing of the Dead Forest, off the beaten path, down through the thick of the twigs and branches.

  I was pretty sure no one but Justin saw me doing it. And it felt amazing, running full speed through the trees, toward the light I knew was here in the distance somewhere and the vampire. And possibly toward Bobby Franklin.

  I looked around at the bony finger-like tree trunks that seemed to be cheering me on, telling me I wasn’t crazy for doing this. I didn’t let myself dwell too much on the fact that if trees were the ones telling me I wasn’t crazy, that might not be saying what I thought.

  My breath seemed unusually loud. It was almost as if it was coming from somewhere outside of my body. And my vision was different, heightened. It felt like I was tracking something, pinpointing it with an accuracy I never had before. Squirrel to my left, I thought, knowing I was right without actually seeing it.

  Jean to the right. I took a sharp right to catch up to her. She had passed out, large wooden stake still clutched in her hand. She must’ve gotten disoriented. Maybe the rumors were true. But then, why wasn’t I feeling that way?

  Maybe I already had passed out. Maybe this was all just a dream.

  I pulled the stake from her hand and kept going. I didn’t see the shadow anywhere among the trees. Everything morphed into one big blur as I swiftly ran into the thick of the woods. That same light I saw in the distance when I was at Justin’s apartment complex shone straight ahead, still pretty far away as far as I could tell. But I was going to get to it.

  About five-hundred yards ahead of me, I saw a silhouette of a person in black, back turned to me. I stopped short, heart suddenly thumping and not because I was out of shape.

  I gripped the stake in my hand so tightly my hand went numb. I wasn’t prepared for what to do when I caught up to the guy. I wasn’t Jean. I didn’t have a “beef” with this vampire, or any other one. We were just two beings taking a ride on the same side of the earth…

  He turned around.

  A long beak-like mask with large metal grommets over the eye sockets and a long cape. The plague doctor. I opened my mouth to scream to say something, anything.

  A hand grabbed my shoulder, pulling me back, causing me to lose my footing. I didn’t fall, though. I wrapped my hand around a nearby branch, easily stopping myself.

  “What the hell, Carly?” Justin said. “How… what… How can you be this far into the Dead Forest without passing out?”

  “I don’t know, but you’re here too,” I said, surprised I wasn’t out of breath, and I was not a woman who was religious about her exercise routine.

  “Did you see that?” I asked.

  “See what?”

  “You had to have seen it.”

  I looked around for the figure and the light again, but both were gone.

  “My mind’s playing tricks on me, I guess,” I said.

  “It happens in the Dead Forest, or so I hear,” he replied.

  I decided not to say anything to Justin about what I’d just seen. Dementia was spreading in this town, apparently, kind of like the plague.

  I pointed my finger at my boyfriend. “Since you’re here, walking around, I now know you did go into the Dead Forest that time you let me believe I was hallucinating. Probably your whole apartment complex goes in here, huh?”

  He didn’t say anything.

  “I knew it. I was right about the foraging.”

  “You were not right about the foraging. We don’t forage…” He paused to take an exasperated breath. He looked good in his uniform. And I momentarily thought about the naked shifting again. I kissed his cheek. “That was sweet of you to come in here after me, though.”

  “Quick,” he said, looking all around. “A couple of the elders followed you and Jean. Pretend you’ve passed out. We’ll talk about this later.”

  I knew that meant never. It was his standard brush-off. Still, I handed him the wooden stake and allowed him to lift me up as if I were unconscious. And he immediately took off running toward the bigwigs I’d seen earlier.

  “What are these people doing? And isn’t this one your girlfriend?” one of them asked. His voice was high pitched and strained like he was suspicious of Justin.

  “Afraid so, sir,” Justin replied.

  Afraid so… I almost smacked him.

  “And was she carrying that stake? She could’ve gotten hurt.”

  “They mentioned something about seeing what they believed to be a vampire in the woods,” Justin replied.

  “That’s right,” another bigwig said. “I remember the older one from the bed and breakfast. Always talking about vampires.”

  “Vampires.” Someone else chuckled.

  “You can tell your girlfriend she did a great job solving that cold case. It all seems to add up. Or, it seems pretty easy to find out if it does.”

  I held in my smile.

  On the way out, Justin whispered to me. “Whatever you do, don’t mention to anyone that you can run off the paths of the Dead Forest without becoming disoriented. And,” he added, “Never, ever mention anything about being able to read that ancient language. Got it?”

  “Got it,” I said. “I wonder why I can.”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “But it’s probably time I brought in the expert. My mother.”

  “You want me to meet your parents?” I said. “First an I-love-you and now this? I don’t know about how fast we’re moving.” I tried to keep my voice light and humorous, but my heart was racing.

  Things were getting very strange here in Landover, and sometimes it was even a good strange.

  Chapter 32

  The war of the Prophecies

  Jackson rode with me to work the next day in the passenger’s seat like I was his chauffeur or something. He looked out the window, his body fading into the blur of passing trees.

  “We’ll have to practice your ghost tricks more,” I said. “You got tired way too quickly yesterday, and you couldn’t help Sylvia save the day.”

  “Yes, pity,” he replied, sarcastically. “I do love saving the day. Practicing tricks, too.”

  The sun was out today, but it still wasn’t warm. I pushed the button to jack up the heat, my cute spring jacket still not doing very much.

  I drove past the street leading to the drive-in. And even though I told myself not to, I still looked over at it, picturing that ride with Shelby ten years ago when she told me about the incident.

  “I’m guessing Jay hadn’t known there would be police at the seance,” I said. “He knew Bruce might show up, though.” I thought about Bruce, the man who lived at home to “take care of his mother.” The one who used to stalk women with cameras, and blackmailed people. “I hope Bruce looks at his gunshot scratch as a second chance at life,” I said. “A chance to be better.”

  “Doubt it,” Sylvia said, appearing in the backseat. She looked good, considering she had a pretty rough night last night. We all had.

  “You okay,” I asked.

  Sylvia tugged at her pantsuit jacket. “It hurts. I’m not going to lie. I died not knowing if Jay and Rebecca had had an affair. And not only had they had one, but my boyfriend was the one who killed me, to keep it from coming out.”

  “Puts my stripper indiscretion in perspective, doesn’t it?” Jackson said, talking about his own affair. “At least I let you live. You’re welcome.”

  “No,” I said. “I let you live.”

  Sylvia went on. “I actually think it had more to do with control with Jay. He was so controlling of my life, of the lives and bladders of the people in his club. He killed us because he was angry. Angry someone was getting the best of him. Angry I didn’t believe him or support him. That I was calling him out.” Sylvia shook her head. “I’m glad the killer wasn’t Rebecca, even though she wasn’t entirely innocent in this either.”

  “I know it doesn’t mean much, but she
told me to tell you she was sorry,” I said.

  “Yeah, it doesn’t mean much.” She looked out the window then back at me. “But Rosie’s right. Getting revenge doesn’t change anything about that night. It just keeps you from moving on.” The mauve stripes in her pantsuit faded into the upholstery. “Turns out, Rosalie’s not nearly as weird as I thought she was.”

  “I’ll tell her you said that. She’ll be thrilled.”

  There was no way I was telling her that.

  No one said anything, just listened to the hum of my Civic’s engine barely audible over the silence.

  “Jay will probably be on trial soon,” I said after a few seconds. “I’m going to watch part of it, if you want to tag along.”

  Her smile got brighter. “What are you suggesting? That I pay a little visit to the alderman?”

  “It’s nothing he didn’t preach about 40 years ago. He wants people to let him know when they have a beef with him.”

  “Yes,” she said. “That’s really the only way to live your truth. We’re just a bunch of beings taking a ride together on the same side of the Earth. And I think I can make his a very memorable ride.”

  Jackson turned his nose up. “I thought you were discouraging retaliation.”

  “What can I say? I make exceptions for exes who cheat,” I replied.

  Sylvia motioned to Jackson. “And whenever you’re ready to see that party at the rink your ex-husband went to forty years ago, I’m ready to show you.” She chuckled a little. “He was a real Casanova, this one.”

  “I beg your pardon,” Jackson said. “Channeling to that party was never in the agreement. We only accept payments about the curse, and that party has nothing to do with the curse…”

  Sylvia had been right. There was definitely something about that party he didn’t want me to see or know about.