by J. B. Hawker
Banks’s mood improved by the second, now he had a plan.
The barmaid threaded her way between the tables and was passing closely behind him. Max shifted his position slightly and she bumped against him, splashing a drink on his thigh.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, sir!” she exclaimed, wiping at the wetness with a napkin.
“My fault entirely, darlin’,” Max drawled, looking into her eyes.
Avenging Angels can get bored between assignments.
Visiting the scenes of his work and reliving each episode could not compare with the excitement of the deeds. Even almost getting caught was not as thrilling. In fact, the more he thought of that near miss the more likely it seemed his protection might be wearing off.
He definitely needed another evildoer to punish.
Where should he look?
God brought the others to him, like offerings. All he did was find the weapons God provided and use them.
Why hadn’t God brought him any others?
Maybe this was a test of his ability, before God gave him greater duties. That must be it.
He must not fail the test. He had to think.
How had it happened with the others?
That one he hung in the tree came reeling out of the Oasis right into his arms.
He knew what happened between the men who went in there.
When this man knocked him down on the sidewalk and looked at him so strangely, it was frightening. The awful smile on the man’s face while he helped him up and insisted on “making it up” to him had been hypnotizing.
There was no doubt about what would happen when the man took his hand and pulled him down to the dry creek bed beneath the bridge.
God provided a rock that time.
God led him to the men’s restroom in the park, at just the right time to see that other bad man, the one who lived on the streets.
He had seen what the man did with the boys in the bushes last summer, so he knew what God wanted him to do.
Bob Miller had been his personal retribution. All God had to do was stand by and watch.
If God were going to be only a spectator for this test, too, it would be hard, very hard.
Now, who did he know who needed punishing? That was the question.
Choir practice was not going very well.
The men’s section was weak without Bob. They all knew it, too.
Almost every one of them who spoke at the funeral mentioned how much Bob’s voice was missed in the choir. They were not merely being polite.
Not just the men’s section was off tonight, though.
Bunny was not able to feel the music. For some reason all the joy seemed to have gone out of her singing.
She supposed it was a reaction to the emotional highs and lows of the past few weeks.
It would be a relief to put all of the turmoil behind her. She was too old for romance and adventure.
Just a few days ago, she had felt like a teenager, but not tonight.
Not ever again, most likely.
Her link with Max was special. Because she and Max were sweethearts in their youth, they could still see each other as they once were.
Even if she did meet someone new someday, he would only see her as middle-aged, at best. Thinking about that made Bunny sad.
Why couldn’t Max open his mind and see the truth? What possible advantage could there be for him, or anyone, in denying God? It was all such a waste.
The director, Carol, gave up on her lackluster choir and called it a night.
Bunny put away her music folder and waited for Emily Ann to close up the organ.
Walter was puttering about, doing a little listless sweeping in the foyer, when they went out.
“Good evening, Mrs. Elder, Mrs. Wilcox. That was pretty music tonight,” he addressed the two women.
“Thank you, Walter,” said Bunny.
“You are working late tonight,” Emily said.
“God don’t work eight to five and neither do I, Mrs. Wilcox,” Walter replied.
“Walter is getting awfully full of himself these days,” Emily commented to Bunny as they crossed the parking lot to her car.
“Oh well, if it makes him happy, we might as well humor him. He’s harmless enough,” Bunny responded.
At that moment, across town, Dinks Dodd was slumped in his desk chair, gazing out at the cemetery and ruminating on his interview with Detective Fuchs.
It didn’t get off to a very good start.
Seeing the detective’s name plate on the desk, Dinks rather badly mispronounced Fuchs’s surname in greeting.
He laughed aloud when he thought about the look on the policeman’s face. It certainly got the old boy’s attention.
You would think he would be used to it by now, though, with such a stupid name.
Perhaps it was a cheap shot, but Dinks had to be sure to make a lasting impression.
Dodd was fairly certain there would be more interviews to follow. He hoped he had been sufficiently vague and evasive to raise the detective’s suspicions.
Dinks never imagined things would work out so well when he decided to rent this house by the graveyard.
The contest was a wonderful opportunity and the murders were a bonus.
He had been worried for a while there, when the expected press coverage had not materialized, but now that was changed and everything was turning out beautifully. Or, at least, it would, if the local Keystone Kops managed to do their part.
“So, Michelson, what do you think about today’s interviews?” Fuchs asked his sergeant as the two men prepared to go off duty for the day.
“Pretty routine, for the most part, I’d say,” Michelson responded.
“Nothing strike you as needing a bit of follow-up?”
“Well, I didn’t much like that Dodd character. I don’t think he was being completely truthful.”
Fuchs smiled.
“I agree. Dodd was playing some sort of game with us. It was as though he wanted to make us think he was involved, somehow.”
“Maybe he did it. I learned in my Criminal Psychology class that some of these guys have a compulsion to get caught,” Michelson commented.
“We can’t rule it out, I suppose. I think he has some other motive, though. Dodd strikes me as a smartass, rather than a killer. We still have to check him out, of course. Begin a thorough background check on him in the morning. I think I’ll take a drive over by the old cemetery on the way home, and maybe drop in on our man for a friendly visit.”
“You will take a deputy with you, won’t you? Dodd may seem like a kook, but he could be our killer,” Michelson cautioned.
“Don’t worry, Sergeant. I’m too close to retirement to take any crazy chances.”
About fifteen minutes later, Lieutenant Fuchs drove up to the Cemetery Lane home of Dinks Dodd.
A cruiser pulled in behind the lieutenant’s white sedan and Officer Marilyn Short climbed out.
“You can stay with the cars, Short. I won’t be long.”
Fuchs smiled at his unintended witticism and approached the house.
He opened the rusty screen and rapped on the splintery wooden door.
Fuchs’s knuckles were becoming sore from his assault on the door before he heard movement from inside.
The door eased open a few inches, then swung wide to reveal Dodd standing there with a too-friendly grin.
“Captain Fewks! What a delightful surprise. Come in, come in. Welcome to my humble abode!” Dodd exclaimed.
“I’m a lieutenant, Dodd, but thanks for the welcome. I’m not often greeted with such enthusiasm,” Fuchs remarked.
Following his host into the living room, Foxy was shocked by the lack of any signs of habitation inside.
The rooms just off the entry hall were bare and dusty. Halloween was long past, but the house seemed to be awaiting the arrival of a dark spirit to haunt its cold, vacant space
s.
“I do most of my living upstairs, Lieutenant. I have a couple of chairs in the kitchen, though, if you would like to come through.”
Dodd’s mannerisms seemed to be from a period British novel. Fuchs wondered if perhaps he were laying groundwork for an insanity plea.
“There’s no need for chairs. I won’t be staying. I just wanted to tell you not to plan on going out of town for the next few days. My people may need to talk to you again. So if you want to get away, be sure to check in at the office before going.”
“Certainly, certainly. Any little thing I can do to help you apprehend the heinous villain who’s been perpetrating these crimes, I am more than willing to do, Lieutenant Forks.”
Fuchs didn’t bother to correct Dodd before leaving. He wasn’t sure what the little creep was up to, but he was going to find out before long.
The lieutenant waved Officer Short away, slammed his car door in frustration and drove off, looking forward to his wife’s good cooking. He had a bad taste in his mouth he was eager to get rid of.
Walter Bjorglund was tired. He had been walking around Clark's Hallow all day while keeping his eyes and ears alert for a sign.
He knew if he were to continue his work as an avenging angel he would need to find a wrong needing vengeance.
He decided not to limit himself any longer to his own particular wrong. He was prepared to bring punishment down on the next evildoer he saw, whatever the transgression might be.
He supposed it would be only a matter of hours before he came across his next assignment, since the world was such a sinful place.
Knowing how many bad people were in the world used to frighten Walter. He felt helpless to protect himself.
Now everything was different. Walter was no longer the weak, scared victim. He was an Avenging Angel working for God and he had all the power in the world.
As the nondescript part-time church handyman continued to amble down the residential street, he thought back to the day which had changed his life.
Walter had been in terrible distress that day.
He was being abused, once again, and did not know where to turn.
While cleaning the church that afternoon, he became frantic with the need to unburden himself and begged for help from the pastor.
Walter felt sure Pastor Elder would be able to stop Mr. Miller from bothering him and making him do those bad things.
When Walter told Miller to leave him alone, Miller had laughed and told him not to be “so coy, and stop playing hard to get.”
However, Walter was not playing anything. He didn’t want to play Mr. Miller’s games ever again.
He remembered that day at the church so clearly...
“Excuse me, Rev. Elder, can we talk for a bit in your office, kind of private, like?”
The custodian approached his tall, silver-haired pastor beseechingly
“Is something troubling you, Walter?” Reverend Elder responded without much enthusiasm.
“I don’t like to talk about it here in the sanctuary, Pastor. Couldn’t we go into your office? It’s a sort of uh, personal problem, you see,” Walter explained.
Eustace Elder considered himself a compassionate and loving Man of God. In truth, he was neither compassionate nor loving.
He had plans for that afternoon which did not include counseling this half-wit about why his mommy never liked him.
“Of course, Walter. Perhaps we can make an appointment for later in the week?” he replied, trying to keep the impatience out of his voice.
“I really need to talk to you now, Pastor. I just don’t know what to do. You’ve got to help me! I don’t know what to do! I just don’t! And I can’t wait, not anymore!”
Walter’s voice was climbing as he spoke.
In order to avoid a possible scene (one never knew who might be in the church), Elder ushered Walter into the Pastor’s Study, quickly, and closed the door.
He seated himself behind his massive desk.
“Calm yourself, Walter. Now, sit down and tell me what is so important it couldn’t wait until a more convenient time.”
Now he had gotten his way, Walter was feeling uncomfortable and shy. Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea.
Nevertheless, he had told the truth; he just did not know what to do about things and they just could not go on as they were. It was wrong and sinful.
He needed to confess and get wise counsel.
Taking a deep breath, Walter began to explain his problem.
Pastor Elder listened resignedly, at first, then with more interest, and eventually with rapt attention.
When Walter finished unburdening himself, the pastor spoke in a soothing, almost caressing, manner.
“Walter, you have done the right thing to come to me. This is indeed a most serious situation. For one thing, there is the sin involved. Your trusting nature has been exploited by a member of our church family. That will be addressed by the Board of Elders and Deacons. You can rest assured you won’t be bothered again.”
“Oh thank you, Pastor, I knew you would know what to do.”
“Of course. But there’s a more important aspect here which must be dealt with to ensure you are never again put into such a situation.”
“What do you mean?” Walter asked. He was plainly puzzled.
Coming around the desk and putting his hand on the smaller man’s shoulder, Elder explained.
“Because of the experiences you have had, growing up and as an adult, you have been scarred emotionally. It will be necessary for us to try to undo some of the worst of these emotional injuries, so you can learn to respond to people and situations in an appropriate, healthy manner. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”
“Oh, sure...Well, I guess...Yeah, okay, sure...What do I have to do?”
“Nothing so very difficult, I assure you. In fact, I think the first thing we will do is to get clear away from this place, where you have had to talk about such unpleasant things. We will go for a nice drive, find some quiet spot where we can enjoy God’s beautiful creation, and relax. How does that sound?”
“Could we take something to eat, like a picnic?”
Walter loved picnics.
“Certainly. Whatever helps you to feel better. Shall we go now, do you think?”
Pastor Elder almost purred the words. Walter could only nod.
There was high color in Pastor Elder’s cheeks as he drove his late-model sedan slowly along the mountain roads.
Beside him, Walter held the bag of burgers from Etta’s Place on his lap. They smelled great. This was turning out to be a good day, after all.
Last night, as Walter tossed and turned in his bed, trying to figure some way out of his dilemma, he couldn’t have imagined everything turning out so well.
Pastor Elder sometimes seemed like a stuffed shirt, but he was all right.
“Ah, here we are, my boy,” Eustace exclaimed, “I believe this is the perfect spot.”
“Is there a good picnic place here?” Walter asked, as the pastor turned the car onto a dirt logging road and headed up the mountain.
“Better than just a picnic spot, it’s a scenic overlook where one can be inspired by the handiwork of God, in perfect isolation.”
“Are we almost there?”
Walter was beginning to get queasy from all the twists and turns of the rutted road. He wanted to be able to enjoy his picnic when they arrived at this peaceful place.
As he spoke, the car turned abruptly through a narrow gap in the trees and emerged seemingly suspended in space.
Walter looked out over the treetops on all sides. He craned his neck around and spied the roadway behind them.
They were perched a few yards from the edges of a narrow outcropping.
The pastor must be planning to eat their picnic in the car.
Walter was disappointed and said so.
“I thought maybe we could get out and sit on the ground to eat. You know, like a real picnic.”<
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“This will be much better. You will see. Go ahead and eat,” Eustace encouraged.
“Aren’t you gonna eat, too?”
“No, I’m not particularly hungry, just now. You go ahead and enjoy yourself. I’ll gaze upon God’s bounty and meditate on His many blessings.”
Walter shrugged and began to enjoy his hamburgers.
The pastor sat and watched him, occasionally looking at the scenery below.
“There, now. All full? Did you enjoy your picnic, Walter?” Eustace asked as he rested his hand on Walter’s shoulder.
Walter nodded and finished wiping his hands and face with the paper napkins.
“I sure did! Thanks. Where shall I put the bag of trash, Pastor?”
“Just toss it into the back seat, for now, Walter. We have more important things to do than worry about a little trash.”
This must be what the pastor had mentioned back in his study. It was supposed to be something that would make sure Walter didn’t get into the same kind of trouble ever again.
He guessed he’d better cooperate. He was sick and tired of always having stuff happen that made him feel bad. He didn’t want God to be mad at him anymore, either.
“Okay, Pastor. What do I have to do?” he asked.
Pastor Elder explained to Walter in order to change his reactions to these difficult situations it was going to be necessary to retrain him.
If he could have similar experiences which were good and wholesome, then he would be able to discern the bad and unwholesome that he had too often known.
Walter was confused. How were they going to do that?
“Well, Walter, as difficult as it will be for me, I will model how the good and wholesome person can make this a positive and loving experience, so we can erase those evil times and replace them with beautiful memories.”
As he spoke, the pastor’s hand caressed Walter’s shoulder, then his neck and back, coming to rest upon his thigh.
Walter froze in shock.
The pastor began to loosen first Bjorglund’s trousers and then his own, but Walter’s mind refused to accept what was happening.
His body reacted as it always did. Nevertheless, Walter was no longer there.