by J. B. Hawker
“I really don’t think so, Mrs. Elder. I found them hidden away in the very back of the locked drawer of the desk.”
“The locked drawer? Well, then that explains it. You said yourself you couldn’t think of a safe way to dispose of the magazines. That must have been my husband’s quandary, too. Someone Eustace was counseling must have turned them over in an attempt to break free of the bondage of sin in this area. My husband locked them away, so they wouldn’t tempt or taint anyone else, while he tried to think of their proper method of disposal.”
“Couldn’t he have just burned them?” Richards sneered.
“Not here in the mountains during fire season, he couldn’t. He died in the summer before he had a chance to dispose of them. It all makes perfect sense, you see.”
Now Rev. Richards seemed less certain. He could see it was just possible he had jumped to the wrong conclusion.
“Perhaps you are right, Mrs. Elder. On the other hand, perhaps my conclusion is the correct one. Your late husband took the truth to his grave. I am afraid all we can do now is pray for forgiveness. God knows the truth of the matter.”
Bunny allowed the pastor to pray for both of them.
She was too upset to utter another word. She would talk to God later. Right now, she had a lot to think about.
Pastor Richards gathered up the disgusting magazines, vowing to burn them in the rubbish barrel that evening, and took his leave.
Bunny sat rocking by the fire for a long time; thinking and, eventually, praying.
Max Banks sprawled in front of his television, smoking and drinking a beer. He stared at the screen, but all he saw in his mind was the man going into Bunny’s house earlier.
When Max drove over after work, he had been surprised to see another car turn into the drive ahead of him.
Banks had pulled over to the curb down the block and Bunny hadn’t notice him when she answered the door.
He sat in the car for more than fifteen minutes, waiting for her visitor to leave.
When no one came out of the bungalow, Max got fed up and drove away.
Who was that guy and what the hell was he doing with Bunny? As he fumed, his doorbell rang.
Banks reluctantly hauled himself out of his chair and went to the door.
When he jerked it open, he was greeted by a small cluster of miniature ghosts and goblins mumbling “trick-r-treat” and thrusting grocery bags and pillowcases towards him.
“Oh crap, I forgot! Tonight’s Halloween and I’ve got no candy,” Max moaned to himself.
Looking over the heads of the motley throng at his feet, he could see, in spite of the recent killings, the streets were crawling with Trick-or-Treaters and their parents.
He reached into his pockets, grabbed a handful of change and divided it up among the little beggars before him, then quickly shut the door and switched off the porch light.
Grabbing his keys, he slipped out to the carport, started his car, and, once the way was clear, backed out into the street.
He drove cautiously until he was away from the pedestrian traffic.
Max considered driving to a convenience store for candy to hand out, but the thought of hopping up and down all night answering the doorbell discouraged him.
He soon found himself pulling into the now empty driveway of Bunny’s place.
He sat in the car a moment, wondering if he should have called, first.
He was pleased to see this neighborhood wasn’t attracting much attention from the tiny extortionists, at least so far.
Bunny was jolted out of her reverie by a knock on the door.
She remembered what night it was and rushed into the kitchen to retrieve the large bowl of Hershey’s kisses she prepared earlier.
Opening the door, expecting costumed children shouting, “Trick-or-Treat,” she was surprised to find Max standing on the doorstep.
“Is that candy all for me?” he smiled.
“I actually prefer this kind of kisses.”
He demonstrated exactly what he meant.
Bunny asked him in and closed the door, while she tried to gather her wits.
This was turning into a very unsettling evening and she felt slightly dizzy.
“How’s your headache, Honey? Are you feeling better?” Max asked.
“Why, yes, thanks. It is almost gone.”
“That’s good. I came by earlier to check on you, but you had company, so I didn’t stop.”
Max looked the unspoken question.
“That’s right. The new minister at my church stopped by for a pastoral visit. I’m sorry you didn’t come in and meet him.”
It occurred to Bunny this sort of lying was becoming a habit with her.
“Thanks, but no thanks. That is not really my style. I don’t get along too well with preachers.”
“Oh, and why do you suppose that is?” asked Bunny, distractedly, more to make conversation than due to any real interest.
She was willing to talk about anything, so long as she could avoid discussing the details of the pastor’s visit.
“I suppose it is because I don’t get along with people who are trying to push a lot of hogwash down my throat. That’s why. Only idiots believe that load of bull,” Max answered, belligerently.
He was in a dangerous mood, for some reason.
“I see. Well, I am sorry you feel like that. There are a great many Christian ministers who do not attempt to push their beliefs down anyone’s throat, you know. Perhaps you haven’t met the right ones.”
Bunny was attempting to be calm and not respond to Max’s insults to her faith. It was not easy after the day’s distressing experiences.
The insistent doorbell interrupted whatever response Max had been about to make.
Bunny admired costumes and handed out candy to the children.
After the kids left, she asked Max if he would like something to eat or drink.
Bunny hadn’t eaten dinner and she was beginning to feel the lack.
She had not fed the cats, either, and they became emboldened enough by hunger to come into the living room, in spite of her visitor.
Veronica jumped onto the sofa beside Max and made a tentative move toward him.
Max roughly brushed her off onto the floor.
“Damn cat. Stay away from me.”
Turning to Bunny he growled, “Cats are worthless creatures, why don’t you just drown them?”
“She was only being polite, Max, which is more than I can say for you this evening.”
Bunny scooped the indignant cat into her arms, protectively.
Max stood up and walked to the door.
“I guess I can take a hint. Good night,” he snarled, slamming the door as he left.
“Good night!” Bunny responded.
She took a deep breath and walked into the kitchen to prepare something to eat.
What a dreadful day.
The children at her door interrupted her dinner several times. When she switched off her lights at nine o’clock, the candy bowl was empty and, Bunny was too.
She supposed she ought to feel upset about her spat with Max, but this new worry about Eustace seemed to take all of her emotional energy.
Drat that man! Even dead, he was a pain in the neck.
Bunny needed some quality time to herself, so she could get a handle on things.
She looked forward to being alone for the weekend, just doing housework and cleaning up the yard. No men.
Chapter 17
All of us have sinned and fallen short of God’s glory. But, God treats us much better than we deserve–Romans 3:23
“Michelson, we’re finally getting a break. I have arranged for us to get some outside assistance on this case and I think it could make all the difference,” Lieutenant Fuchs addressed the sergeant while walking out of the inner office.
“Are the State Police getting involved? The FBI wouldn’t be interested, would they?” Michelson asked.
“You’re still on about that? All our inquiries have come up empty. No one at the Oasis has ever heard of him,” the sergeant argued. “I think that’s a dead-end.”
“Maybe, but my instinct tells me differently and my friend, Robert Simpson, is going to help us find out if my instinct is right.”
“What’s so special about this Simpson guy, anyway?” Michelson asked.
“He’s got a lot of experience with cases like this. You’ll see. He will be able to get the information we need. He’ll be up here tomorrow and I can’t wait to see what he comes up with.”
“I hope you’re right, Lieutenant. I just hope you’re right.”
The killer was feeling out of sorts. He had grown accustomed to the excitement of the past few weeks and he was becoming restless.
It looked like no one was going to find the headless body, after all.
It was a disappointment. That one should have turned up long ago. He hid it more completely than the other ones, but it was in a very accessible spot. Maybe he should have put it in a Halloween display, after all.
If no one found the thing soon he might just have to move it.
Too bad the holiday was over, though. There would not be any more yard decorations to provide the proper setting for this last jewel.
He did not suppose it would last long enough to set up as a Christmas surprise and folks do not decorate outdoors much for Thanksgiving.
Thinking about ways to use the decapitated corpse as a prop in various holiday displays made the man chuckle. But, remembering no one stumbled upon it in time for Halloween saddened him again.
This last body would have made more of an impact during the spooky season.
He supposed it would be the last body. He no longer felt the rage that had driven him.
His first killing was almost an accident, really, but it felt so very right. It was justice, actually, he was like an avenging angel, and it felt good to be an Avenging Angel.
The second time was different. He never thought about killing again, but then everything just fell into place and when he saw his opportunity, he was ready.
He went hunting for the third victim.
The last one was personal. It felt even better than the first one.
He wished certain people never died on their own, or moved beyond his reach. Personal vengeance felt good.
He guessed an avenging angel could bring justice without personal reasons, though. Superman saved people at random, whether he knew them or not, even though he liked saving Lois and Jimmy the best. Avenging was sort of the same thing, maybe.
He would have to think about it some more.
Chapter 18
You are in the garden with friends all around. – Song of Songs 8:12
Sitting by the fire the next morning sipping her coffee, Bunny could feel her troubles drifting away like the smoky haze over a burnt-out pile of leaves.
Walking around town while the sun came up had helped.
Knowing the day ahead was hers to enjoy, all by herself, did the rest.
Now Halloween was officially over, things could return to normal in Clark’s Hallow.
The police would catch the killer soon and everyone could begin to think about Thanksgiving and Christmas.
Bunny needed to get the yard and garden tidied for the winter, before she could make her own holiday plans.
On the top of her list for today, was tackling the giant pile of leaves by her driveway.
Showers had fallen during the past week, so the leaves were damp.
Bunny decided to give up her plans for a bonfire and shovel the leaves into bags, instead. There were really too many leaves to burn safely, anyway.
Bunny changed into her gardening shoes, pulled on work gloves, grabbed the box of trash bags and went out to scale her mountain of decay.
She filled half a dozen bags and was scooping up another load of leaves, when she noticed the arm of a child’s doll sticking out from under the bottom of the pile.
She stuffed the shovelful of leaves into the bag and tied it off, then bent down to remove the toy from the muck.
Grasping the small grayish-white arm of the doll, she began to lift it up. It was softer than she expected and she let go of it in surprise.
What had looked, at first glance, like the arm of a plastic doll, was actually the little finger of a man’s hand. Lifting it had exposed the rest of the hand and part of an arm.
Bunny turned away and heaved her breakfast into a nearby hydrangea bush.
Shaking uncontrollably, she managed to stagger into the house and pick up the telephone.
With trembling fingers, she pushed the buttons and whispered her name and address through quivering lips.
“Please send someone... right away....there’s a hand in my leaves...a hand and an arm under the leaves...not a doll...please send someone...it smells...I can’t go out there...please,” she begged the anonymous operator.
The emergency response staffer urged Bunny to stay on the line until the police arrived, but her cold, shaking fingers dropped the phone and she could not make herself retrieve it.
She was not able to think about it, anymore. It made her feel too sick.
Bunny curled up on the sofa, hugging her knees, as she waited for the authorities to take away the obscene thing lying in the leaf mold.
Max Banks arrived at Bunny’s house as the ambulance was driving off. He hoped Bunny was not inside it. She’d had some nasty shocks, lately.
Max asked the officers on the scene a few questions for the newspaper before crunching along the graveled walk leading to Bunny’s door.
He stepped onto the porch and rang the bell.
Emily Wilcox opened the door.
“Yes? Oh, it’s you. Come in,” she said.
Banks expected to see Bunny in her rocking chair with a mug of tea in her hands, but Mrs. Wilcox was the only one in the room.
“Where’s Bunny? They haven’t taken her to the hospital, have they?”
“No. Her doctor called the pharmacy with a prescription for a sedative. I picked it up and brought it over. Bunny’s in bed, asleep.”
“Is she going to be okay? Can I see her?”
“She’s shocked, of course, but she seems to be all right, otherwise. No chest pains, palpitations, or anything like that. She just wanted to sleep and not be bothered with thoughts and images for a while.”
“Doctor McDermott said the pills would knock her out for about eight hours, so I don’t think she’ll be ready for company before tomorrow. It might be better to wait until Monday. If I know Bunny, she will probably be at work bright and early Monday morning, in spite of everything.”
“Can you tell me exactly what happened?” Max inquired.
Emily relayed the facts, as much as Bunny had been able to tell her, and then ushered Banks out.
“I’ll be sleeping here, so she won’t be alone, if she awakens in the night. You needn’t worry,” Emily said, as she closed the door.
Max was frustrated at not being able to see Bunny. He should be the one watching over her in the night, not that busybody from the church.
Banks drove to the newspaper to write up a story telling folks the body belonging to the head in the pumpkin and the arm in the “grave” was no longer missing.
Chapter 19
Wisdom is worth much more than precious jewels or anything else you desire.
–Proverbs 8:11
When Bunny awoke before sunup the next morning, she was disoriented and groggy from the sedative.
Lying quietly amongst the rumpled bedclothes, she was wrapped in a vague feeling of unease. As though probing at a painful tooth, she tested the feeling with tentative memories from the previous day.
It was not long before she thought of the body in the leaf pile and the pain came flooding back.
&n
bsp; She moaned aloud.
Hearing footsteps in the hallway outside her room, she froze in panic.
Who was out there?
There was a soft rap on the door, before Emily poked her head into the room.
“Are you all right, dear? I thought I heard you call.”
“Emmy! What are you doing here?” Bunny blurted out in relief.
“I didn’t want you to be alone last night, drugged and upset as you were, so I slept on your sofa. Can I get you anything? Some breakfast, maybe?”
“No thanks. I’m not really awake, yet. Thank you so much for staying with me, though. You are such a good friend. I’ll be fine, now, as soon as I shake off my sleeping pill hangover.”
Emily closed the bedroom door and returned to the living room where she gathered up her bedding from the sofa and began to get dressed.
While she was in the kitchen fixing the coffee, Bunny came out of her room and began to make a fire.
“The temperature dropped last night. I can see my breath even in here,” she called to Emily.
“Yes, the wind is whipping up, too,” Emily responded, looking out the window.
“It’s November, now, so I guess we will have to get used to this weather,” Bunny commented, when she had joined her friend in the kitchen.
The two women sat at the table quietly chatting about mundane things and drinking their coffee, just as if it were an ordinary day.
After many words of gratitude and assurances the worst was over, and Bunny’s promise to call her immediately if necessary, Emily left.
Once alone, Bunny forced herself to think about what had happened.
Finding the body in the leaf pile had been frightening, of course, but it was the flashback to the discovery of Bob Miller’s body that upset her so badly.
Bunny wondered if she would ever get over that earlier gruesome find.
Remembering the innuendo planted on Bob’s defiled corpse, the images forced upon her by Reverend Richards came to her mind.