“Did you go out with Arleen because she was a friend of your mother’s?”
“I went out with her, as you call it, because I wanted to fuck her.”
“You’re more like your mother than I thought,” said Ryan.
“You mean because we both like sex?”
Looking at Aaron, Ryan was again bothered that he could see Janice’s face buried in her son’s. It kept him from being able to think of Aaron clearly. And he thought of Harriet Malcomb and how she had said that Aaron had told her to have sex with him. Ryan wanted to ask Aaron about this, but he wasn’t ready to. The subject still made him angry.
“I’m not sure what I meant,” said Ryan. Then he left. He didn’t want to see who was in the bathroom. Part of him wanted to know who it was, but another part didn’t want to complicate his thinking. Later he told Franklin that it might have been Harriet, but it might have been somebody else entirely.
As he drove back to City Hall, Ryan thought about Janice’s appetite for men. She had no sexual restrictions other than the fact that she didn’t like pain—or serious pain, since even spanking pleased her. Sometimes she liked to masturbate Ryan, squeezing his penis so it hurt, holding back his orgasm so the sperm would shoot farther. Sometimes she liked to have the sperm shoot in her face. She called it an absolute turn-on. She would rub it across her cheeks or forehead or make Ryan rub it until all trace was gone. Ryan had been excited and repelled by this. But he had never been with another woman, before or since, who had a passion for such recreations.
Twenty-two
Hark Powers was the first person to maintain that the L-shaped scar on Aaron’s cheek stood for Lucifer, as if Lucifer had given Aaron a special tattoo, claiming him for his own. Soon everyone was saying it. Indeed, it was the sort of assertion that people liked. It clarified the world. Of course, it was always said as a kind of joke, but for some people it was less of a joke than for others.
Bullies often have a sentimental streak. They dislike believing in meanness for its own sake. They like to put their desire to hit and control in the service of some larger cause. This is no more than pretext, but it allows the bully to enjoy his feelings of power with a diminished degree of guilt. He is able to tell himself that he is hitting his victim not because he likes to hit but because his victim deserves punishment. This is how it was with Hark Powers.
It was not surprising to me, as it had been to Ryan Tavich, that Hark became involved with the Friends of Sharon Malloy. Like many others, he believed that whoever had abducted Sharon was somebody passing through town, though he also felt certain this person was connected to Houari Chihani and Inquiries into the Right. Hark had been incensed that someone from the IIR would put bombs on the window ledges of two of Aurelius’s schools and he was outraged at the desecration in Homeland Cemetery. Hark had family buried in the cemetery, so that sacrilege hit especially close to home. He kept thinking about how the tombstones had been tipped over and the image was always fresh and awful in his mind. Or at least this was how he made it sound when he talked about it at Bud’s Tavern. “Atheists” was how Hark described the members of the IIR, even though Hark had rarely seen the inside of a church himself.
Hark was not stupid but he was one of those young people common in small towns who have chosen ignorance. It was almost a philosophical position adopted against the outside world and he wore his blinders with pride and defiance. On the bumper of his pickup truck was the slogan “Buy American” and on his rear window he had a little American flag. There was also a bumper sticker that said something about having to peel his cold fingers from the butt of his smoking revolver. Needless to say, he believed in assault weapons for everyone. On the other hand, he was said to be a good mechanic and he could be kindhearted: he often helped on his father’s farm, which was run by his older brother. This is not to exonerate Hark, but neither would it be fair just to dismiss him as deficient. He distrusted whatever came from the outside. He didn’t only dislike Houari Chihani, he disliked the whole college. And the fact that Aaron had gone to school in Buffalo was one more point against him.
Of course, Hark hated Aaron because of what Aaron had done to his ear. But in the years since, there had been a number of new insults that kept Aaron fresh in Hark’s mind. For instance, the young woman who had been using Aaron’s bathroom at the time of Ryan’s visit was not Harriet Malcomb but Jeanette Richards, who was an assistant manager at Ames department store. She had a somewhat plain face but a dramatic figure. The problem was that she had been dating Hark Powers all fall. Then he learned that she was also seeing Aaron. In a town like Aurelius—where there are few entertainments other than TV—romance and melodrama become exaggerated. The fact that Hark’s girlfriend was observed going in and out of Aaron’s apartment complex set telephones jangling. Certainly, Hark offered his services to the Friends of Sharon Malloy because he was disturbed by Sharon’s disappearance, but he also joined because his girlfriend was seeing his enemy.
At the storefront rented by the Friends of Sharon Malloy, Hark answered the phone, opened mail, and licked envelopes. He also took part in a few searches. Since he had his regular job at Jack Morris’s Ford dealership, his time with the Friends was limited to about ten hours a week. Sharon’s uncles, Donald Malloy and Paul Leimbach, were often in the storefront and Hark attached himself to them as a one-man honor guard. His muscle was in their service. He cheerfully ran errands for them, as if his connection to them gave him special importance. Hark was a large man with a moon-shaped face. He had an ironic, joking manner that suggested he knew a little more than the people around him and couldn’t be fooled. Donald Malloy and Paul Leimbach liked him. They considered him one of their best volunteers, though I am sure they had no idea what a dangerous instrument he could be.
Hark began to keep an eye on Aaron and the others. And Hark had cronies, minor bullies whose help he enlisted. Sometimes, when Chihani drove to Wegmans to do his weekly shopping, one of these men followed him. It was clear to Hark and his friends that the police were interested in Aaron, apart from the charges stemming from the vandalism at Homeland Cemetery. Consequently, they saw their actions as being in the interest of helping the police, just as their work with the Friends of Sharon Malloy was in the interest of helping the police.
Occasionally Hark followed Barry Sanders as well, though he found Barry so repulsive that even the name Little Pink was not good enough for him. Hark didn’t give him a name, only a label: The Pink Turd. Hark could see that Barry was terrified of him, which made this kind of minor harassment a pleasure. And the fact that Barry was frightened indicated he had something other than Hark that he was frightened of, meaning he felt guilty.
Hark may not have known that Barry was gay, but he had gone out of his way a number of times to be unpleasant to Jaime Rose. The population of Aurelius contained a number of gay men, but Jaime Rose was the only one who was obviously gay, though he didn’t hold up a sign. On the other hand, he liked to say, “If you’ve got it, flaunt it.” I once asked him why he didn’t move to a city with a clearly accepted gay community.
“I’ve already done that,” he told me. “The queers in Aurelius are so sweet. They like to pass for straight. It makes them desperate. A nice boy like me can always get a date.”
Hark limited his treatment of Jaime to glaring looks. A year earlier, Hark had seen Jaime in Bud’s Tavern and made a number of loud remarks about fags. But Jaime turned it around on him. He was with three of the women from Make Waves and they all went up to where Hark was standing with his cronies at the bar. “Listen to him talk,” said Jaime. “I believe he wants to kiss me. Do you want to kiss me, Hark?” And Jaime pursed his lips.
Even Hark’s cronies laughed. After that Hark said nothing to Jaime in public.
When minor events like these occur, they are talked about, then forgotten. It is only in the light of other events that they become significant. For instance, there was Hark’s encounter
with Houari Chihani. What happened was that Chihani had gone into Malloy’s Pharmacy to buy a bottle of aspirin. It was unlikely he knew that the owner of the pharmacy was Sharon’s uncle, despite the huge picture in the front window. As I have tried to indicate, flesh-and-blood re-ality didn’t mean much to Chihani. His brain was too full of conversations with the dead, intellectual arguments, and philosophical ruminations. That particular day, Donald Malloy wasn’t in the store. Chihani was waited on by Mrs. Porter.
Chihani paid for the aspirin and thanked Mrs. Porter. He was always polite in a rather formal way. As he left, he was blocked at the door by Hark, who was just coming in. This was told to me by Barry Sanders, who had been out on the sidewalk. Hark’s entrance at that moment, Barry said, was no accident. Hark had seen Chihani and timed his entrance to coincide with Chihani’s exit.
Finding someone before him, Chihani stepped to the left. Hark stepped to the right. Then Chihani stepped to the right and Hark stepped to the left. This was done without Chihani’s looking at Hark. Now he looked up. “I beg your pardon,” said Chihani.
“And I beg yours,” said Hark. He was shorter than Chihani but he was also wider and more muscular.
Chihani stepped to the left and Hark stepped to the right.
Chihani stopped again. “You’re doing this on purpose.”
“You’re doing it on purpose,” said Hark.
“Stop this foolishness,” said Chihani. He stepped to the right and Hark stepped to the left.
Such events have their little escalation. Chihani raised his cane and shook the handle in Hark’s face. “Let me by.”
Hark reached out, plucked Chihani’s beret from his head, and sailed it into the street.
“That is my hat,” said Chihani. “I demand you get it.”
Hark grinned. Barry ran into the street and retrieved the beret. Chihani lifted his cane again and Hark grabbed it, so that both men were tugging the cane at the same time. This is when Mrs. Porter intervened.
“Leave him alone, Hark.”
Hark let go of the cane and Chihani staggered back. Barry brushed past Hark and gave Chihani his beret. Hark entered the drugstore. Once on the sidewalk, Chihani turned to look at the huge picture of Sharon Malloy in the window.
“What is the reason for that picture being so big?”
“This is her uncle’s drugstore,” said Barry.
“Ah,” said Chihani, “that explains it.” He straightened his beret, thanked Barry, and walked off toward his car.
I asked Barry, “Were you going into the drugstore as well?”
“I never go there,” said Barry. “I was just walking by. I mean, I go out to Fays Drugs by Wegmans.”
Barry had moved back to his mother’s house because the suspicions aroused by the IIR after Sharon’s disappearance and the fact of his having been charged with vandalism made him nervous about living alone, or so he claimed. He felt claustrophobic at his mother’s, but he also liked the attention. At least he was the center of someone’s universe, even if it was his mother’s. She would look at him and say, “Oh, Barry, what are we going to do with you?” Barry would roll his eyes and sigh but he was asking himself the same question.
When he couldn’t stand being at his mother’s, Barry would often come visit my house. I say “my house” rather than “me” because Barry often came to see Sadie, whom he liked, especially because she was a friend of Aaron’s. In this relationship Sadie was the stronger, even though she was thirteen and he was nineteen, and she would give Barry advice and order him around, though in a kindly way. Sadie was making a braided rag for a project at school, and Barry would help her. Both would sit on the floor, braiding and sewing, while I sat in my old chair reading lab reports. Sometimes I’d make a fire. Late in the evening Sadie would make cocoa. This was at the beginning of October. Often I reminded myself of the falseness of it, the illusion of comfort and familial warmth, even with such an odd family as the one Barry, Sadie, and I made. Sadie was here because her father was pursuing the person responsible for abducting Sharon and because he was afraid to leave her by herself. Barry was here because people thought he had something to do with the abduction. Our domestic pleasure existed only because a young girl had disappeared.
But on Wednesday, October 11, there was a new development. A man in Somerset, Pennsylvania, east of Pittsburgh, was arrested for trying to coax a ten-year-old boy into his van. His name was Daniel Layman and he described himself as a part-time plumber. He was unmarried and in his late thirties. He had gotten in trouble about five years earlier for fondling a little boy at a Sunday-school picnic.
Under questioning, Layman confessed to abducting three other children and killing them. One of those children was Sharon Malloy. He said he had lured her into his van, taken her to a state park about thirty minutes away, raped her, and buried her body in the woods. He described her wavy brown hair and blue sweater. He said she kept asking for her daddy.
When the state police in Potterville were contacted about Layman’s confession, Captain Percy called the Friends of Sharon Malloy to say he needed volunteers to search Henderson State Park more carefully. That was the closest park, but thirty-five miles south of Aurelius there was Hannible State Park. Percy also sent two men down to Somerset to question Layman.
By Friday morning two hundred men and women were once again searching the park. The police had dogs and a helicopter. Hark Powers was in charge of a squad of twenty volunteers. Nothing was found on Friday and they all returned on Saturday. More people joined the search, but nothing was found all weekend.
The men whom Captain Percy sent to question Daniel Layman called in on Saturday with new information: Layman described the park as having a river. Henderson State Park had no river, but the Loomis River cut through Hannible State Park. So on Sunday about three hundred searchers descended on Hannible.
The other two children whom Daniel Layman confessed to having abducted and killed were also missing, and he gave vague directions to where he had buried their bodies. So search parties were sent out in two other locations as well, one near Northampton, Massachusetts, and the other in Vermont. But neither child was found and by the beginning of the following week the police suspected that Layman was lying, that he was crazy or wanted the publicity or was just one more guilty soul in search of punishment.
By Wednesday more than seven hundred people had participated in the searches in Henderson and Hannible State Parks. Some spent half a day, some spent several days. Some drove down from Utica and even Syracuse. The effect was to unite people in a way they had not been united before. And as it became increasingly obvious that Daniel Layman was lying, they became even more indignant.
Then something happened that turned people’s attention in a different direction.
Twenty-three
Monday morning, October 16, Chuck Hawley arrived for work at City Hall at five-thirty. It was still dark and he could see stars. The police department has a side entrance to the building and as Chuck approached it he saw a cardboard box—a Budweiser beer case, actually—resting on the step in front of the door. Chuck couldn’t open the door without moving the box, so he picked it up. People later said this was brave of him because it might have been a bomb, but my cousin is not an imaginative man and the idea of the box’s containing a bomb did not occur to him. He said the box was light. He took it inside.
Josh Riley was on duty, or rather he was snoozing at his desk with his forehead on the blotter next to several Baby Ruth candy bar wrappers. Chuck put the box on the table and opened it. Neatly folded inside was a blue sweater, a white blouse, a pair of jeans, girl’s underwear, white socks, a pair of Adidas sneakers, and a red backpack. Chuck began to open the backpack and then didn’t. Instead he telephoned Ryan Tavich, who, at twenty minutes to six, was still asleep.
Ryan answered on the third ring and heard Chuck’s excited voice on the other end of the line. “Som
eone just returned Sharon Malloy’s clothes to us.”
Ten minutes later, Ryan entered police headquarters, beating Chief Schmidt by five minutes. Captain Percy had to drive from Potterville and arrived at five past six.
Patty McClosky, Chief Schmidt’s secretary, heard about the clothes and the backpack when she got to work at eight-fifteen, though by that time the box and its contents had been sent to the state police lab in Ithaca. Just after she poured herself a first cup of coffee, she called her friend Denise Clark.
“All the clothes were washed, ironed, and folded,” she said, “even the socks and underwear.”
At nine o’clock Frieda Kraus called Franklin from the office as he was leaving the house.
“Chuck Hawley found a box with all of Sharon’s clothes right outside City Hall this morning. Denise Clark just told me.”
Franklin must have wondered how Denise Clark was privy to such information. Then he called Ryan Tavich.
“It’s true,” said Ryan, “but I can’t say anything about it right now.”
Within the hour the police received calls from the Utica, Syracuse, and Albany newspapers, as well as four TV stations. Channel 9 in Syracuse sent down a crew and they parked their white van in front of City Hall at ten o’clock. At noon Chief Schmidt announced a news conference for three that afternoon.
Because of the response, the news conference was held in the city council’s chambers on the second floor of City Hall rather than in Chief Schmidt’s office. There was some difficulty about protocol since Captain Percy was in charge of the case. On the other hand, the box had been left on Chief Schmidt’s doorstep and so Percy suggested that Schmidt take the city council president’s seat. Percy sat on his right along with one of his lieutenants, Peter Marcos, a photogenic young man who had been brought down from Albany. Next to Marcos were Ryan Tavich and Dr. Malloy. The mayor, Bernie Kowalski, was on the other side of Chief Schmidt.
The Church of Dead Girls Page 19