Devil's Playground

by D P Lyle

  “Come on, Charlie. Just give us an overview,” Lanny said.

  “OK. Garrett killed the three children. Walter Limpke confessed to killing the Hargroves and Roberto Sanchez. Last night Betty McCumber was murdered, but since that case is only twelve hours old, we don’t know who is responsible yet. So, what’s the question?”

  Sam could barely suppress a smile. Vintage Charlie. He always managed to boil conversation down to the bone and gristle, tossing the fat aside.

  “Charlie, don’t get testy,” Lanny said.

  “I’m not. If I was, you’d know it. Now, I don’t like being hauled in here under some official pretext and finding Reverend Billy here. Right away I start thinking that something ain’t right. That there’s some other agenda here. So, why don’t we just cut to the chase? What’s this all about?”

  “We’re scared,” Marjorie blurted out. “Four members of the jury have been killed and I might be next. What are you doing about that?”

  Charlie tilted his Stetson back. “We’re going to find out who did it and arrest them.”

  “When?” Her lips trembled as she spoke.

  “Soon, Marjorie.” Charlie sighed heavily. “I know you’re scared. But, trust us to do our job.”

  “Like Betty did?” She sniffed back tears. “Like Roberto and Margo did?”

  Paul Blankenship jumped to his feet. “Will my son have to find another body before you put an end to this?” His hands curled into tight fists. “He’ll never get over what he saw this morning.”

  “I know,” Charlie said. “None of us will.”

  “But, it’s your job to see things like that.” Paul’s eyes flared with anger. “My son is only a boy.”

  “I’m sorry, Paul.”

  “You Goddamn well better be.”

  Lanny interrupted. “Let’s all calm down.” He turned to Reverend Billy. “Reverend, would you care to say anything?”

  Here we go, Sam thought as Billy pulled himself from his chair and turned to face them.

  “I understand that both of you are good cops," Billy began. "Everyone says so and I see no reason to doubt that.”

  Well hallelujah Sam wanted to shout. We have the big man’s approval.

  “But,” Billy continued, “this situation is beyond your means. This is not a police matter, but a matter for the Lord.”

  “The Lord?” Charlie said. “Are you kidding?”

  “Let him finish, Charlie,” Lanny said.

  Billy expanded his already over-inflated body and began to pace as he spoke. The wooden floor creaked and popped like arthritic joints beneath his mass. “You have a series of killings here that you can’t explain. I have been told that Walter Limpke was a kind and good and religious man. Why then did he brutally murder three people? Was that not out of character for him? Did that not shock everyone who knew him? And now, you have another member of your community that has met a similarly horrible fate.”

  The pace of his prancing picked up and Sam half expected a Bible to materialize in his hand.

  “Doesn’t it strike you as odd that four members of Mister Garrett’s jury have died? Three at the hands of murderers and one in a terrible freeway accident. These occurrences are beyond coincidence. They are the work of Satan. He is here, protecting and avenging his disciple Richard Earl Garrett, who is himself possessed with Satan.”

  “Come on, Reverend,” Charlie said.

  “It is true. I know. I have seen it in his eyes.” He cleared his throat. “You can neither see nor comprehend this fact from your secular point of view. You are not attuned to the works of Satan.”

  “Look, Reverend,” Charlie said, “I admit that if anyone has the devil in him, it’s Garrett. That’s why he was convicted. That’s why he’ll probably go to San Quentin’s Death Row. That’s why someday, hopefully, he’ll be executed. So, what else can be done to him? He’ll pay for his sins.”

  Billy fixed him with his blue eyes. “You do not see the truth before you,” he said, condescension dripping from every word. “This will never end so long as Garrett and that group of followers that hang out down the street have Lucifer in their blood. Satan must be cast out, forced from them. And it must be done soon, or these killings will continue.”

  Lupe Rodriguez crossed her chest and mumbled a quick “Hail Mary.”

  Sam saw a look of shock spread across Father Tom’s face. He stood.

  “You aren’t proposing some type of exorcism are you?” Father Tom asked. “The archdiocese would never allow it.”

  Billy arranged his face into a look somewhere between patronization and contempt. “Father O’Malley, not meaning to insult you, but I didn’t request your presence at this meeting. That was Mister Mills’ idea. If the council agrees to turn Garrett over to me, I will perform the exorcism service. I have a great deal of experience in such matters and I am sure that you do not.”

  Sam ran past miffed, hurtled perturbed, crashed through angry, and landed square in the middle of furious. Even though she no longer attended mass or services at Our Lady of the Desert, the bond she had formed with Father Tom during her mother’s illness and death remained strong. She was not about to stand by and let this pompous whale and this confederacy of dunces insult and intimidate him.

  “What the hell are you talking about?” she stormed, glaring at each of the councilmen in turn. “An exorcism? Of Garrett? Of those innocent mixed-up kids? Have you all gone over the edge?”

  “Deputy Cody...” Billy began.

  She whirled on him, eyes flashing. The insulation on her nerves melted away, leaving behind raw, sparking wires. “You shut up! I’ve had about enough of your crap.” Turning back to the council, she continued her harangue. “I can’t believe you let this charlatan windbag come in here and blind you with his bullshit. I can’t believe you think we would ever hand over a prisoner, any prisoner, for this obese piece of dirt to burn at the stake. This isn’t Salem. This is our home, for Christ sakes!”

  “Sam,” Lanny said. “Calm down.”

  “Like hell I will. You can’t fire me. The county pays me. But it wouldn’t matter anyway. There is no way this puffed up ass is going to get his hands on Garrett or those kids.” She turned toward Paul. “And Paul, I’m sorry Ted found Betty. I wish he hadn’t. But, that’s the way life is. Deal with it, talk with him, rather than joining Billy’s little self-promotion crusade. Now, if all of you would go home and let Charlie and I get back to work, we might get to the bottom of this.

  “You haven’t done such a bang up job so far,” Reverend Billy said.

  She consumed the distance between them with angry strides. He towered over her, which only infuriated her further. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You’ve got more bodies around here than Omaha Beach on D-Day and I don’t see a solution in sight.”

  “Really? We convicted Garrett, Walter confessed, and Betty McCumber’s body isn’t even cold yet. Give us more than twelve hours and we’ll figure out who killed her, too.” She fixed her jaw and glared up at him. “By the way, where were you last night?”

  Billy’s face puffed purple with rage. He stammered, but for once was speechless.

  “That’s right,” Sam said, “I forgot. You and Blue Eyes were having a prayer meeting.”

  Billy’s eyes bulged as did the veins in his fleshy neck. He hissed and wheezed as he spoke. “Where I go and what I do and with whom I converse is none of your business.”

  “Sorry Billy, you’re wrong. This is my town and that makes it my business. Maybe I’ll have a chat with one of my friends at the FBI and see what they think.”

  “OK. Let’s calm down.” Lanny slammed his gavel on the table. “We will take this under advisement and make a decision.”

  “There’s no decision to make,” Sam said. “You don’t have the authority. And you.” She turned to Billy. “Why don’t you crawl back to your swamp before things get really nasty around here.” She looked at Marjorie and Lupe. “You two should be ashamed of yourselv
es. Coming in here and siding with this snake oil salesman. He can’t help you. He doesn’t give a shit about you. He’s only using you.”

  Sam stormed out of the building, Charlie, Lisa, and Mark in her wake.

  “I’m sorry,” she said to Charlie. “I didn’t mean to blow up like that.”

  “Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Charlie offered, putting his arm around her shoulder. “Just watch yourself. I get the feeling, the Reverend doesn’t play by the rules.”

  “Billy I can handle. It’s that Carl Angelo creature that bothers me.”

  “Sam?”

  She turned to see Father Tom approaching. “Father Tom, I’m sorry I got so angry, but that man infuriates me.”

  “It’s OK.”

  “I wanted to shoot him.”

  “I’d have absolved you if you had,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.

  She smiled and hugged him. “I love you.”

  “Come on,” Father Tom said, “I’ll buy you guys some coffee.”

  “I’ll pass,” Charlie said. “If it’s OK with Lisa and Mark, I’m going to go see Westbrooke. Maybe he’ll move Garrett’s sentencing up and we can get him out of here and put an end to this exorcism crap.”

  “Good idea. I’ll go with you,” Lisa said.

  “Me, too,” Mark agreed. “I’ve wanted to get rid of Garrett ever since I got stuck with his case.”

  Sam and Father Tom waved to them and walked toward Starbucks.

  *

  Lanny Mills hated Reverend Billy. He hated his arrogance and pompous self-importance. He hated his church and its fake righteousness. But, most of all, he despised his self-indulgence, giving himself to food, alcohol, and young women. Girls younger than Lanny’s own daughter.

  But, he admired Billy’s confidence and ability to get what he wanted. He never let anyone or anything, even his own conscience, deter him. He had balls. Lanny could overlook Billy’s shortcomings, if he could help Lanny get what he wanted.

  Lanny led Billy to the corner of the room, out of everyone else’s earshot. “That didn’t go well,” he said.

  “Quite the contrary,” Billy beamed. “It went perfectly.”

  “How so?”

  “They’re angry and confused. That leads to mistakes. Political miscalculations.”

  “They’ll never give up Garrett.”

  “Sure they will. Another day or two and the town will be ready to storm the jail and demand Garrett be given over.”

  “I don’t see how.”

  “Trust me.” Billy laid a thick hand on Lanny’s shoulder. “I have experience in such matters. Garrett will be mine, I will recoup my expenses and then some, Sheriff Walker will be out of a job, and this fair city will have a new sheriff.”

  *

  Sam and Father Tom stepped into Starbucks. The aroma of fresh coffee met them at the door. Sam ordered a cappuccino and he a mineral water. Carrying their drinks, they moved to a corner table.

  “How are you doing, Sam?” Father Tom asked.

  “Been better. I’ll be glad when this madness is over.”

  “It has been tough on everyone. Church attendance is up,” he smiled. “Of course, we miss having you there.”

  “I know. Maybe this Sunday.”

  “We’ll see,” he chided.

  She sipped the cappuccino, then said, “Can I ask you something?”

  “You know you can.”

  “Is Satan real? Does he really exist?”

  “Let me ask you. Is God real? Does He exist?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then, Satan must exist. If you believe the Bible...that it is a Holy work inspired by God...then you must believe all of it. Not just parts.”

  “I guess what I mean is, does Satan actually exist here on Earth? Does he take over people’s souls? Make good people evil?”

  “I believe that can happen. I also believe that God’s love can defeat Satan.”

  “And Beelzebub?”

  “Yes. Many believe they are one and the same.”

  “I thought one was the master and the other the servant.”

  “The distinction is unclear. Regardless, they are both merchants of sorrow. Whether they are separate entities or merely two faces of the same, each is a force to be reckoned with.”

  “Could Richard Earl Garrett be a pawn in this?”

  “Who knows? It’s certainly possible.”

  “Do you believe Garrett could change?”

  “We all can change. Those who have lost their faith can always restore it and find their way back to Jesus.”

  She knew he was talking as much about her as he was Garrett. He would never come right out and say so, but she sensed his disappointment in her leaving the church. He seemed to take it as a personal loss.

  “Exorcisms. Do they really work?” she asked.

  “The Lord works in many ways. I have never been a proponent of the Exorcism Ritual, but the principle of God casting out Satan, I do believe. I feel that change is best accomplished internally by opening your heart to Jesus, rather than through some external ceremony.” He smiled. “But, I could be wrong.” He leaned across the table and took her hand. “These are heady subjects for such a young woman.”

  She debated whether to tell him of her dreams and the dreams of the others and of Nita Stillwater’s slant on good and evil, but decided against it. Maybe later. “I’m simply trying to figure out what’s going on around here and rational explanations don’t seem to work.”

  “I see.”

  They sat quietly for a minute, then Father Tom said, “Is it Connie’s death that has you so confused?”

  “Partially.”

  “And the rest?”

  “The other murders. The trial. Everything. This isn’t supposed to happen here. Maybe LA, but not here.”

  “Evil knows no boundaries,” he said.

  “I guess.”

  “It can even come disguised as good.”

  “Reverend Billy?” she asked.

  “Exactly.”

  “I think he’s more dangerous than Garrett.” She wiped a dribble of coffee from the side of her cup with a napkin. “At least with Garrett, you know what he is. Can see him coming. Billy works differently.”

  “Mankind’s history is replete with examples of atrocities performed in the name of God. The Inquisition. The Crusades.”

  “And now, here. Billy is turning the town against us. Just like Nathan said he would.”

  “Ah. Mister Klimek. A nice looking man, isn’t he?” Father Tom said with a twinkle in his eye.

  Sam wiggled in her seat as if she had been caught talking in Sunday School. “Maybe. Probably.”

  “Is he a religious man?”

  “He’s Jewish.”

  Father Tom smiled. “We can forgive him for that. Is he a good man?”

  Sam had never considered that question before, yet she knew the answer immediately. “Yes. He is.”

  “That’s what counts. Religious affiliations are choices. Character and goodness are innate.”

  “Don’t let the Pope hear you say that,” Sam laughed.

  “Rome is a long way from here,” he smiled.

  Chapter 34

  After saying goodbye to Father Tom, Sam headed up the street toward her office. The cloud cover had thickened and darkened and begun to release a fine mist of cold rain. She noticed a crowd had gathered at the corner in front of the bank. Reverend Billy stood on the top step addressing them. She had hoped her council room tirade would slow him down a bit, make him reassess his position, but apparently, it had rolled off his fat body without leaving so much as a dent. She had to admit the man had balls. As Sam approached, Billy’s words became intelligible.

  “You must regain control of your own lives, of your own community. You must rip the evil that is Richard Earl Garrett from your souls. Only then can you be saved.” He opened the Bible he held. “From the book of Psalms:

  ‘Lift up thyself, thou judge of the Earth;


  render a reward to the proud.

  Lord, how long shall the wicked triumph?

  ...They slay the widow and the stranger,

  and murder the fatherless...

  Yet they say, the Lord shall not see...’

  He paused and looked down upon the gathering. “But, God does see. He has felt your pain and has answered your prayers. He has sent me to show you the path to your salvation. Demand of your sheriff that Richard Earl Garrett be delivered for his judgment so that Satan can be driven from him and from your lives. It is only through me that Satan can be cast down into Hell where he belongs.”

  Sam waded into the crowd, colliding with Blue Eyes, who carried a basket, half filled with bills. She grabbed the girl by the arm and spun her around. “Give the money back,” she barked. “Panhandling is illegal here.”

  “Now, just a minute.” Billy clamored from his perch, Carl Angelo at his side. “Donating to the church is not panhandling.”

  “Billy, I’m not going to argue the finer points of the law with you. Give back the money and break up this little lynch mob.”

  “We have the right...”

  “No, you don’t. And you don’t have a permit for this gathering. And you cannot incite a riot or organize a lynching.”

  “We are hardly a lynch mob,” he said, self-righteous indignation oozing from every pore.

  Sam caught a glimpse of Lanny Mills at the corner of her gaze, which remained locked on Billy. Lanny eased into a position behind and to the right of Billy. Not close enough to be considered part of the argument, but near enough to signify which camp he was in. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his wrinkled pants, an act which accentuated his paunch, and rocked slightly on his heels, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. Sold his sole to the devil, Sam thought.

  “That’s exactly what you are,” Sam snapped at Billy. She turned to the crowd. “You people go on back to your work. The Reverend’s sermon is over.”

  “Haven’t you heard of the separation of church and state? We have the Constitutional right...”

  Sam turned, stepped close to Billy, and glared at him. “You have the Constitutional right to keep breathing and that’s about it.”