On The Devil's Side of Heaven

by Roger Peppercorn

  By the time he had half crawled, half ran to the house, his clothes were almost dry and the cold had left his body altogether. Ronald had chosen a path that would take him to the left, and behind the house. There was an open field; he combat crawled through it until he was flush with the parking lot of a church.

  Cars had begun to spill into the parking lot. He assumed a service was in the offing, which he would use to his advantage to mask his final approach to the house. Ronald stood up behind a large oak tree. He brushed the dirt and grime off of his clothes as best he could, but there would be only so much he could do. He waited for the carloads of worshipers to head into the church before he started off.

  The first thing he noticed as he got closer were the security cameras that surrounded the house. Not only were they up high – near the rooftop – but also down near the ground. There were others mounted at oblong angles that he figured would provide overlapping cover. He kept walking, making sure to keep close enough to the parking lot. Any casual observers would assume he was there for the service rather than to kill someone.

  Ronald knew this was the house he was looking for and what’s more, he also knew the only way into that house was going to be through brute force. He was going to need a car or a truck large enough to provide cover and heavy enough to stop bullets. He turned his attention back to the parking lot and began to look for a vehicle that was suitable for his needs. It didn’t take him long to find what he was looking for.

  Near the front of the parking lot was a Silver 1979 Buick Regal. Ronald approached it carefully and after making sure no one was around to stop him, he removed a boot knife he carried. Using the end of it, he shattered the driver’s side window. After that, he climbed in and hot-wired it, before putting it in reverse and driving slowly out of the parking lot. He was tempted to drive through the back of the house, but what if he was wrong? Ronald needed to be sure, so he drove around the block until he was close enough that he could watch without being seen. He decided he would wait for a half hour just to be satisfied he wasn’t wrong and to think about his approach.

  Ronald reached into the backpack beside him and powered on the phone. After it was booted up, he saw he had a dozen messages from his adversary. They started off in a taunting manner and then became wild and speculative, until they dovetailed into detailed descriptions of what Ronald was going to have to suffer before he was allowed to die. He laughed to himself and was about to turn it off again, when it rang. Ronald looked at the screen and after seeing it was from Walter, went ahead and answered it.

  “Hello,” Ronald sang out cheerfully.

  “Where the fuck are you? I’ve been trying to call you for hours?”

  “Looking for opportunities. How about you?”

  “Well, for starters, someone tried to kill me again this afternoon.”

  Ronald straightened up and said, “When did this happen?”

  “Shortly after you hung up on me.”

  “I assume you’re not hurt too bad?”

  “Just more cuts and bumps. But never mind that, I’ve got other things you need to know about.”

  “Such as?”

  “Such as I know who's behind this, so you can stop lurking about in the shadows and we can put an end to all of this.”

  “You have proof?”

  “I’m sorry, were you just gargling with semen just now? That why you didn’t hear me?”

  “Name?”

  “Not till you stop whatever insanity you’re up to and come in so that we can discuss it.”

  “So if I brought along someone who could verify your assertions, then that would be a good thing, right?”

  “What have you done?” Walter asked reluctantly.

  “Nothing… yet, but I’m about to sit down and talk to someone who I’m sure will be more than willing to substantiate your assertions.”

  “NO, Ronald! Stop whatever you’re going to do right now and meet me so we can go over it together.”

  Ronald thought about Lori and Earl the dentist. Obviously, Walt didn’t know yet that they were dead. He thought about telling him now but decided to wait until they were face-to-face. “You remember that place where your cousin got married when we were kids?”

  Now it was Walter’s turn to pause. “Vaguely.”

  “Good. Meet me there in two hours… no, make it three.”

  “Ronald, I have no idea where that place is anymore. How am I going to find it at this hour?”

  “Three hours and don’t be late.” Then Ronald disconnected the call. Then he sent a text message to the man he hoped was inside the house. ‘Knock, knock, ready or not, here I come.’

  Pete woke up to the sound of his phone announcing a new text message. He picked it up and read the incoming message from Ronald. He put the phone down, rubbed the sleep from his eyes and was just picking up his phone again when he heard the roar of a car engine. He jumped to his feet and stepped to the window just in time to see an older model sedan jump the curb in front of the safe house and then tear into the front of the house. Stunned, he stood there staring, his mind refusing to believe the sight before him.

  Pete went back to the couch and picked up his shotgun and .40 caliber handgun. After he had chambered a round in both guns and secured the handgun in the holster on his belt, Pete brazenly opened the door and with the shotgun at port arms, headed toward the car parked inside his safe house. He made it no more than ten feet when he was struck on the side of the head. Pete crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

  Ronald stood over the guy he had just knocked out with his blackjack for just a moment, so that he could look him in the face. He didn’t recognize him, but that didn’t mean anything either. He looked around for anyone who had heard the commotion or who had visions to be a Good Samaritan. When it appeared nobody had noticed or was taking action, he leaned down, picked him up and carried him back into the house. Once inside, he checked for ID and the phone he had used to send him the messages. The ID said he was a Pete Silas and gave an address up on the Redlands. Next, he looked for the phone and when he found it, Ronald was unable to verify for certain this was the guy because the screen was locked. However, after he had taken a quick tour of the house, he no longer needed the phone to verify this was the guy he was looking for.

  Next, Ronald took out a roll of duct tape from the backpack and after he had secured him good and proper, he picked him up and took him out to the garage, where he tossed him into the truck. After that, he went back inside for a quick look at the place. Satisfied he had everything he needed, Ronald went out to the truck, got in, and started it up.

  A few minutes later, they were back at the dog park where he had left his own truck. Ronald took everything he needed out of the bed of the pickup and then locked it up behind him. When he opened the truck, his new friend Pete stared back at him defiantly.

  “Scoot back.”

  Pete glared at him.

  “You’re about as scary as a dung beetle,” Ronald said and then hit him several times with the sap. Blood leaked down the side of Pete’s face, his eyes glazed over. Ronald reached out and checked his vitals. Satisfied, Ronald picked up the items he had sat on the ground and put them in the truck.

  When that was done, he got back behind the wheel and headed towards a throwback to his youth. Once there, he would ask some questions politely and then torture Pete Silas if his answers were coming reluctantly.

  ***

  It took me almost two hours to figure out the name of the little dance hall my cousin was married in almost thirty years ago, then another forty-five minutes to find it on a map, and then still another hour to drive out and find it in the dark. Pea Green was a little one-story brick building that had seen more weddings, gatherings, family reunions and country dances than any other building in the Mesa Valley, bar none. I wondered if Ronald chose it out of nostalgia or because it was the one place he knew I would remember. Either way, it didn’t matter because whatever he had planned was probably both illegal and
immoral.

  It was located six miles south of Delta, on state Highway 348. I found it only after I stopped and bought a GPS to take me out there. It had once been a school and then later, it had served as the local dance hall for teens and adults alike in the 1930s. My parents told my sister and I a lot of stories about how our grandparents had met and how they had begun courting.

  When I was about ten, my cousin got married and held her reception at Pea Green. Ronald had tagged along with my family that afternoon. My mother had made a casserole and baked a pie, as did all the mothers on that day. My uncle stole the show for having outhouses delivered so that drunken men and sober women and children had some place to relieve themselves other than in the cornfield next door or against one of the many trees that surrounded the place.

  As I pulled up, I noted the small store next door looked like it was closed. There were cars still out front though, so I wondered if someone lived in the back. If they did, it could be a problem, especially if they became nosey.

  I drove past Pea Green and noted a black sedan parked in the back, close to the cornfield. Turning the jeep around, I drove back and parked behind the sedan. Taking my new gun out, I checked the action and made sure it was loaded. I also took the badge and folded it back so that I could wear it on my belt and it was exposed. At least if someone was looking, I was hopeful that my badge would give them pause before they called the real cops.

  Stepping out of the jeep, I quietly pushed the door closed and kept my gun up and in front of me as I approached the small green building. I paused twice to listen for any sounds that didn’t belong, before I made it to the back door and saw that someone had pushed it in. I stepped to the side and again listened for sounds coming from inside. Hearing nothing, I eased it open and quickly stepped inside, keeping my back against the wall. My heart was racing and my breath became shallow and quick.

  The lights were off, but I could see a glow coming from inside. I tried to keep near the wall to limit any creaking boards. As I got deeper inside, I could hear someone moving around. The air smelled old and fetid in the darkness. The room I had entered into was the kitchen and as my eyes adjusted, I could make out cabinets and a sink. I pressed my back once more against the wall and then stepped around the corner. This is when I saw where the glow was coming from.

  “Freeze! Police!” I yelled. I wish I could have said I was prepared for what I saw, but I would be lying if I did. Ronald was standing next to a man who appeared to be naked and duct taped to a chair. He had the man’s penis in his hand and appeared to be gently stroking it. Ronald had taped the man’s mouth shut and had wrapped duct tape over his eyes.

  On the floor behind Ronald and laid out on top of what appeared to be blankets, was a nail gun, a portable air compressor, industrial staple gun, a hammer, more duct tape, and what appeared to be a variety of nails and screws. There were also some rags, bottles of chemicals, a gun, and a large pair of pliers.

  “Well looky here, Pete. My man Joe Friday finally showed up.”

  “What in God’s name are you doing?”

  “I worked with a guy one time whose orientation was not of the hetero persuasion. He had a unique way of getting a man to confess without the need for violence. Thought I’d give it a try.”

  “That’s not… I mean Jesus, Ronald, why is he naked and duct taped to a chair?”

  “Pretty sure I just covered that.”

  “For the love of Christ, what the fuck are you doing?”

  “I’m interrogating the suspect.”

  “By giving him a hand job?”

  “Different strokes.”

  “Ronald, cut him loose! Now!”

  Ronald shook his head, “Can’t. This here is a real dangerous man.”

  “I’m serious. Knock it off and cut him loose. And quit playing with his dick!”

  Ronald straitened up and spread his hands out in front of him. Then he shrugged. “Before I do, you should know that this is the guy who put the hit out on you, me, Jessica, and had your ex-wife and her new husband killed.”

  “How did you…” My voice trailed off. I started to shake my head to clear the words he had just spoken. I could feel the heat starting to rise up my neck and into my cheeks. “Lori… he… no… Lori’s dead?” My head was spinning, my knees began to buckle and I felt myself begin to fall over. Ronald stepped over to me and helped me to the floor.

  “Sorry Walt.”

  I began to hyperventilate. No way was she dead. Ronald had to be making this up. She was safe in Florida. Had to be. “Thomas and Cassandra?”

  “Safe and with Jessica.”

  I shook my head again. “How did he…” My words trailed off again, my thoughts spinning in circles. I reached for my phone and began to dial Lori’s number.

  Ronald shook his head, “Not a good idea right now.”

  I ignored him and listened to the phone ring on the other end. I was sure it was going to go to voicemail when it was answered on the other end.

  “Hello,” said a male voice.

  “Who is this?” I asked.

  “Detective Sienna of the Tampa Bay Police Department. Who is this?”

  “Walt Walker. Lori’s ex-husband. Can you put Lori on the phone?”

  “I’m sorry Mr. Walker. I hate to be the one to tell you this, but your ex-wife was killed this afternoon.”

  I looked up at Ronald. His eyes were downcast. He said very quietly, “I did everything I could to protect them.”

  “You still there, Mr. Walker?”

  I turned my attention back to the phone. “Yea, I’m still here. You’re sure it was her?”

  “’Fraid so. She and a Mr. Earl Thompkins were both gunned down in their front yard this afternoon.”

  “My sister and my kids?”

  “Your kids are fine and are currently with your sister.”

  “I… you’re sure? I mean you made a positive ID?”

  “We did. Now, Mr. Walker, I have some questions if this is a good time? Otherwise, I can have someone local there talk to you.”

  “I’ll call you back,” I said quietly, then disconnected the call. Ronald reached out and took the phone away. I just sat there staring in disbelief. My mind was empty and I felt as if I was watching this from outside my body. I still loved her. She couldn’t be gone. Not yet. I had so much I still wanted to say and do. We still had the spark. It was going to work out, we just needed time.

  I watched as Ronald took my phone apart. My gaze fell on the naked man strapped to the chair. I felt myself begin to rise. My feet carried me forward until I was standing in front of the man who had set all this in motion. My hands balled into fists and then I began to rain down blows into his face and body.

  My first punch sent his head backward. My second took the wind from his lungs and then, like a man possessed, I kept hitting him until I felt blood begin to hit me in the face and arms. Ronald stepped up behind me and wrapped me up tight, pulling me off him. I kicked and screamed, the spittle flew from my mouth. He turned me around and let me go, my momentum carrying me into the corner. I slipped and fell to the floor in a heap.

  “Can’t kill him till he talks,” Ronald said.

  I came off the ground with pure animal hatred coursing through my veins. Ronald stood in front of me with his arms extended to try and calm me down, but I wasn’t about to be stopped, least of all by the man who had caused all of the blood and death to begin with.

  I lunged at Ronald and was on top of him before he had a chance to stop me. My fists rang out and connected several times before he was able to put distance between us. Lunging again, I aimed my hands at his throat. Ronald parried my arms to the side and hit me in the ribcage as I flew past him. I felt the wind go out of me as I hit the floor. Gasping for breath, I tried to get back to my knees. Ronald hit me from behind, propelling my body flat.

  “Easy Walt, your fight’s not with me. Don’t make me hurt you. Enough blood has been spilled.”

  I tried to get up again but his
weight kept me pinned to the floor while my lungs tried to suck wind. We stayed that way for several minutes until I was able to breathe again.

  “YOU DID THIS!” I screamed.

  Ronald kept quiet, letting the fight in Walt play out before he got up. “I’m not without blame here, but the man who called the tune is still out there and right now, you need to concentrate on that. We can do this later, but right now I need you here.”

  Drained of energy, I nodded my head and worked to get my feet back under me. “When this is over, you’re going to be spending a long time locked away in a cage for what you did,” I breathed heavily.

  “I can live with that, but later, okay?”

  I nodded my head, but didn’t answer him.

  “Good. Now this gentleman…”

  “Peter Silas,” I said.

  He looked at me and then asked quizzically. “How’d you know that?”

  “Because I’m a cop.”

  “Yeah, well, right now don’t say anything else ‘cos I want truthful answers from Mr. Silas. If you're supplying him with answers, it isn’t going to help.”

  “Whatever,” I scoffed.

  He nodded and then turned his attention back to Silas. “Shit Walt, you really fucked him up good. I mean, look at him.”

  He was right. The beating I had given him had taken its toll. His cheeks and forehead were bleeding from the cuts my fists had inflicted on him. Large purple bruises were beginning to appear on his ribcage and stomach. Silas’s nose looked like it was probably broken. Blood was freely running down his chin. Ronald reached up and took the tape off his eyes and mouth. “Can’t have our star pupil choking to death on his own blood before he talks now, can we?”

  When he took the tape off, both of his eyes were swollen shut and his lips and gums were bleeding. Silas leaned his head forward and spit two teeth onto the floor. “I ain’t telling you shit. You’re just gonna kill me anyway,” he said through the blood.