Johnny Gruesome

by Gregory Lamberson

  Looking down at Gary in disgust, Johnny spat black phlegm on him. “Poseur.” He turned to Karen. “Now it’s your turn.”

  “No!” Karen shook her head.

  Johnny crossed the room, his boots clomping on the floor. “Go ahead, scream until you’re blue in the face. Then we’ll match.”

  Karen released the sheet, her hands shaking in spasms as Johnny stepped onto the bed, towering over her.

  “I might have left you alone,” he said, tapping the crowbar in one hand, “if you hadn’t screwed that asshole.”

  Tears streamed down her face. “Oh, God …”

  “It’s a little late to get religious on me, sweetheart.”

  She looked up at him. “I never loved him … I only loved you.”

  “That’s good.” He raised the crowbar over his head. “We’ll be together soon.”

  Karen dove forward, arms outstretched, the sheet falling away. Her momentum propelled her through the window, the curtains and blind protecting her from the shattering glass. Johnny watched her spiral into the night, a look of surprise on his grisly features.

  Freezing cold air stabbed Karen as she sailed into the darkness. As the curtains and the blind whipped away from her face, she saw the backyard below. For a split second she hung suspended in the air like an angel, her arms spread wide like wings. She glimpsed the swing set she had played on as a child, rusted now, and a tractor tire leaning against the wooden deck. Snow fell around her, and she felt at peace.

  So beautiful, she thought.

  Then she crashed onto the roof beneath her window, her naked body splayed out in eight inches of snow, the wind knocked out of her lungs as shards of glass rained around her. Her breasts ached, and her fingers clawed at the snow, but she found it difficult to maneuver without breathing. She dug her toes into the snow but they failed to find traction. With great pain and effort, she crawled into the rectangle of golden light spilling through the broken window behind her, toward the roof’s edge. Johnny’s shadow fell over her, filling the rectangle. She crawled faster, her heart pounding.

  Almost there—

  Hands as greasy as leftover chicken seized her ankles and pulled her back to the window.

  No! She fought back, kicking her naked legs. Her fingernails snapped and pain ripped her fingertips. Johnny’s arms encircled her hips and he lifted her up and yanked her inside. She clawed at the window frame with her bloody fingers, but the broken glass cut her hands even worse. Johnny hurled her onto the bed. Banging her head, she fell to the floor, forcing the bed away from the wall. She gasped for breath.

  “That’s my girl.” Johnny kicked the bed askew so he could get at her. “You’ve got bigger balls than Gary.”

  “Fuck you!” Pressing her back against the corner, she kicked at his groin, but he deflected her foot with ease.

  “I’m not into sloppy seconds, even if you are.” He raised the crowbar over his head, and she held her left arm up for protection. The crowbar whooshed down in a blur, smashing her arm away. Its curved end bit into the top of her head and a splotch of blood splattered the wall behind her. A surprised cry escaped her lips, and she wondered why she remained alive. Gritting his teeth, Johnny leaned on the crowbar, driving it deeper into her skull, then threw his weight against it. Karen’s scalp split open with a sickening rip, and her skull ruptured, blood and fluid spraying in all directions. Johnny pried the crowbar free, wet tissue dripping from its end. Karen slumped back, her brain exposed and her eyes open. Blood flowed down her face and over her breasts.

  Circling the bed, Johnny dropped the crowbar beside Gary’s head and stepped over him to the bureau. He picked up a framed photo of himself with Karen and held it next to his face. Staring at his reflection, he noted the changes in his appearance. Shaking his head, he set the photo down. He saw the cocaine on the plate, splattered with blood.

  What the hell, he thought. You only live once.

  Picking up the straw, he hunched over and snorted two lines of the crimson-colored powder. Standing erect and sniffing the coagulated coke up his gaping nasal passages, he stared at his reflection and grinned.

  Chapter 48

  The Carters drove home from the police station in silence. Eric sat in the backseat, gnawing on the inside of his mouth as he stared out the window at the falling snow. It had felt liberating to confess everything to Chief Crane, but now he had to deal with the consequences.

  That’s okay. It was the right thing to do. I should have done it right away. Rhonda is dead because of me.

  Tears formed in his eyes. Johnny had murdered Todd and left his head in Gary’s locker. Had Johnny really intended to frame Gary for the slaying, or was he just toying with him, the way a cat plays with a mouse?

  I saw him. I really saw him.

  Had Johnny been playing with him, as well?

  Yes. He left that handprint on my window. He wanted me to see him at The Bus.

  And Karen?

  He made those phone calls to her. She wasn’t crazy. Neither am I.

  Johnny had also done—something—to Carol Crane. He had torched the Lawson funeral parlor, with three of the Lawsons inside. And he had murdered Mr. Milton.

  Rhonda. He dug his fingernails into his palms. Why Rhonda?

  Because he wanted to send me a message, the same as he did with Gary.

  Message received.

  “I’ve never been so humiliated in my life,” Pat said as soon as Robert closed the front door to their house. “Picking up my son from a police station! All of those reporters stationed outside. Thank God they didn’t know anything about this. I just don’t understand how this could have happened.”

  “That’s because you don’t understand anything about me,” Eric said.

  “I certainly had no idea I was raising a grave robber.”

  “For God’s sake, I am not a grave robber!”

  Robert unbuttoned his coat. “Don’t use that tone of voice with your mother, Eric.”

  Eric stared at his father with a look of disbelief on his face. Before he could respond, his mother cut him off.

  “What do you call it, then, if not grave robbery? You sneaked into a closed cemetery. That’s called trespassing. You dug up that grave like some kind of ghoul. I’ll see to it that Carol Crane never even works as a substitute teacher in this district again. She should be arrested—”

  Eric raised his voice. “This was all my idea. I would have dug up Johnny’s coffin whether Mrs. Crane came with me or not.”

  “—feeding the delusions of a troubled minor—”

  “‘Troubled’? You’re damned right I’m troubled!”

  Robert stepped between them. “You’re in enough trouble as it is. Do you have any idea how much we’re going to spend on legal fees because of you? Thank God Abe Kaufman came out in this weather and at this hour to handle your paperwork.”

  “You’re just as bad as she is,” Eric said.

  “We’re going to have to move. Do you understand that? This little village of ours is going to be in the media spotlight for years, and you’re going to be in the eye of the storm. Do you think we’ll ever be able to lead normal lives again?”

  “No, I don’t. And right now, I don’t care. My classmates are being slaughtered one by one. All Mom cares about is that the neighbors will gossip about us, and all you care about is how much it’s going to cost to keep this off my precious record so I won’t embarrass you.”

  “That’s enough, Eric!”

  He looked from his father to his mother. “What’s the use? You don’t even communicate with each other!” He stormed upstairs and slammed his bedroom door, leaving his parents to contemplate his sanity.

  Inside his bedroom, Eric locked the door. He ran to his desk and snatched a set of keys from the top drawer. Switching on the radio, he cranked the music and faced the window, which he unlocked. He pushed on the window’s frame, but it didn’t budge.

  Damn it!

  He pounded on the frame, then tried again. This t
ime it ground open, and cold wind blew the curtains at him. Sticking one leg over the sill, he touched the roof with his sneaker. Ducking low, he stepped outside. The wind whipped at him, numbing his face. He closed the window, leaving it open just a crack so he’d be able to get in again, then walked to the roof’s edge and looked at the snowdrift below.

  In better weather, he’d have climbed down the latticework on the side of the house, but with all of the ice, he might break a leg. Raising one foot, he stepped off the roof and plummeted through space. His stomach barely had time to lurch before he landed in the snow up to his ass.

  Getting up, he brushed the snow off his clothes, then made his way to his father’s Lexus. Peering at the house’s picture window, he saw his parents’ retreating shadows behind the curtains. He used his key to unlock the Lexus, rather than the remote control, to avoid unnecessary noise. Easing the door open, he cringed as the dome light came on and the vehicle’s alert system chimed. Sliding behind the wheel, he shut the door just hard enough for the latch to catch. He started the engine, then backed out of the driveway and drove off.

  The Lexus crept through the heavy snowfall. As far as Eric could tell, his parents had not noticed his escape. He switched on the headlights and windshield wipers, then opened the door and slammed it. Through deserted streets, he drove downtown. Seeing a state police car patrolling Main Street two blocks away from the town square, he pulled over to the curb before dark shopwindows and waited. The snow provided ample cover, and when the police car turned right onto Water Street, he gave the gas pedal a gentle push. Passing the park, he approached Main Street and stopped. Looking from side to side, he searched for more police activity and spotted a local squad car cruising a side street in the opposite direction.

  He turned left, the Lexus’s wheels grinding compressed snow, and prowled the deserted street. Light emanated from the windows of taverns, the only businesses that remained open. A traffic light swayed in the wind. Eric wondered if the police had arrested Karen and Gary yet.

  It didn’t matter. I have to do this alone.

  His fingers tightened on the steering wheel as he passed the cemetery. Deep inside the boneyard, he saw red and blue lights pulsing like beacons. Emergency personnel were still handling the situation at Johnny’s grave.

  Rhonda.

  His chest heaved, and tears filled his eyes. The car drifted into the wrong lane. He stepped on the brake pedal, stopping the Lexus in the middle of the street, and shifted into park. Pounding the dashboard with his right hand, he howled. He tried to rock forward, but the shoulder strap held him back. Covering his eyes with his left hand, he wiped away the tears and massaged his temples at the same time. He ran the back of the hand beneath his nose, clearing mucus. Taking a deep breath, he focused on the task that lay ahead.

  A shadow fell over his window.

  Eric jumped in his seat as a figure leaned close to the glass, peering in at him through the eyeholes of a black ski mask. Eric’s heart thundered in his chest, and he shifted the gear into drive. A gloved hand reached for the glass. Eric’s right foot hovered above the gas pedal. The figure rapped on the window and he relaxed. He doubted Johnny would knock before attacking him. The figure knocked again, so he lowered the window two inches.

  “What are you doing out here, Eric?”

  Damn it! An adult who knew him. He was screwed. “Who wants to know?”

  The figure pulled off his ski mask, and Eric sighed at the sight of Henry Norton.

  “Sorry if I startled you, but when you stopped in the middle of the street like that, I thought the worst.”

  Catching his breath, Eric lowered the window the rest of the way. “What are you doing out here, Henry?”

  “I volunteered for citizens’ patrol. The cops need all the help they can get. What are you doing out after curfew?”

  Admiring Henry’s sense of civic duty, Eric gambled that the middle-aged former wrestler didn’t know his address. “I’m going home now. I live up by the school.”

  Henry glanced up the hill. “Well, hurry up, okay? I mean it. This is no time to screw around.”

  “Sure thing, Henry. Thanks.” Eric raised the window and pulled away, leaving Henry to continue his unorthodox surveillance. Staring straight ahead as he passed Johnny’s house, he caught himself speeding and slowed down.

  Can’t afford to get pulled over. They’ll think I’m making a run for it.

  He passed the high school and made a right onto Route 20. Fewer streetlights provided illumination, and the darkness beyond the falling snow grew denser.

  Chapter 49

  Ben entered Matt’s office clutching a cardboard box between his outstretched hands, which he’d gloved in latex. His face had turned ash-gray, and a muscle in his left temple twitched. Seated behind Matt’s desk, with Matt standing beside her, Carol watched him set the box down on the desk.

  “It was right where Eric said we’d find it.” Ben glanced at Matt, who stepped around the desk. “Dan just reported in from the cemetery. Grissom’s grave was dug up. The girl’s body is there, covered in snow. Do you want me to go see her parents?”

  Matt shook his head. “I need you here. There’s too much happening right now. Just make sure you send someone with a little sensitivity.”

  “Okay.” Ben watched Matt move closer to the box.

  “Take it out.”

  Grim faced, Ben reached into the box and took out a clear plastic bag containing a basketball with duct tape wrapped around it. He set the lopsided ball on the desk, positioning it so it would not roll off. Carol’s chair squeaked as she leaned forward, a look of dread contorting her features.

  Ben said, “I don’t think you want Carol to see this.”

  Matt looked at Carol with one eyebrow raised.

  “It’s okay,” she said in a strained voice. “Nothing can shock me at this point.”

  “Go on, Ben.”

  Ben located the end of the tape and unwound it from the ball. The adhesive ripped away with a sticky sound. He discarded the used tape in the box, then used both hands to pry the sections of the ball apart. He forced the rubber down, revealing Todd’s frozen hair and features.

  Carol’s mouth opened and nothing came out. Todd’s head gaped at her, his face spattered with frozen blood drops. She had seen that face on a daily basis in her classroom, but not like this. Setting his hand on top of the head, Ben rotated it to face the opposite direction.

  Matt got down on one knee for a closer look. He had no trouble picturing it attached to the body that had been strung up in the high school gym. Rising, he watched Ben photograph the head from multiple angles.

  “You’d better refrigerate it,” Matt said. “That blood is melting.”

  “Right.” Ben packed up the head and carried it out of the office.

  Watching him go, Matt sighed. “I really don’t understand you, Carol.”

  Avoiding his gaze, she felt like a child.

  “I mean, you’re married to a cop, for Christ’s sake. You know damn well you can’t exhume a body without a court order. And judges aren’t in the habit of issuing them to high school teachers. You’ve really jammed me up. Criminal trespassing, grave robbery, corruption of a minor …”

  Carol forced herself to look at him. “So arrest me.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I released Eric on his own recognizance to help keep his name and yours out of the papers. I don’t see you coming out of this one hundred percent clean, though. Hopefully, his parents won’t press charges against you if we’re able to keep some of this quiet.”

  “You still think we’re making all of this up, don’t you? Even though your men found Todd’s head at the high school and Rhonda’s corpse in the cemetery.”

  Matt sighed. “The only thing that matters right now is that we have Eric to testify against Belter.”

  “No, we don’t.”

  Matt and Carol turned to Ben, who stood in the open doorway.

  “His old man just called. The kid climbed o
ut a window and took off in their Lexus.”

  Carol rose to her feet, a worried look on her face.

  “Damn it!” Matt said. “Put out another APB, this time for Eric. Charge him as an accessory in Grissom’s murder, too. We can’t let him get away.” The intercom on his desk buzzed. Pressing a button he said, “Yeah, Diane?”

  Diane Sailey’s voice came over the intercom. “Heller’s on line one. He says it’s an emergency.”

  “Thanks.” Glancing at Ben, Matt put Heller on speakerphone. “Go ahead, Dan.”

  “We’re at Slatter’s house, Matt. Belter’s truck is parked in front, and we found a second-story window smashed in the back. We broke in through a side door. Belter and Slatter are both here. They were murdered in her bedroom. Looks like they were have a real Hollywood-style party before things went bad.”

  Matt looked at Carol, who closed her eyes in silent prayer. “Thanks, Dan. I’ll get Beelock over there ASAP, and we’ll send someone to the diner to tell Shelley.”

  “Copy that.”

  The line went dead, and Matt nodded to Ben, who scurried off.

  Opening her eyes, Carol said, “So much for your theory that Gary was behind all of this.”

  “Maybe Eric—” His words sounded hollow.

  “He was with me, Matt. I’m his alibi.”

  Matt counted on his fingers. “He was there when Belter killed Grissom, if that’s really how it went down; with Belter and Slatter dead, we only have his word to go on. Kumler roughed him up at wrestling practice just days before he was decapitated, so there was no love lost between them. He and Rhonda were at The Bus right before Derek and Cliff were killed, and he and Cliff got into a scuffle. By his own admission, he was probably the last person to see Rhonda alive.”

  “What about Michael? Eric was with me when Michael and Rhonda must have been killed. And he was in class when the funeral home burned down. You know in your heart he doesn’t have it in him to be some kind of teenage serial killer.”

  Matt ran one hand through his hair. He knew she was right. “Whatever the answer is, he’s running away and we have to stop him.”