by J. B. Hawker
“Don’t attempt to analyze me, Bunny. I do not need any of your pop Christian psychological counseling blather. I don’t have anything or anyone to run away from. Look, why don’t we just keep things on a professional footing for the remainder of the time we work together, all right?” he said.
“I am going out, now. I have some things to do before my meeting. I am sure you must have plenty of work to keep you busy today. The Homecoming insert needs pasting up, for one thing. Also the classified billing is ready to go out. I will keep in touch and let you know, as soon as possible, when the sale is finalized.”
Max grabbed his jacket and left without another word.
Stunned, Bunny stood by her desk trying to make sense of what had just happened.
Eventually, she slumped to her desk and began to sob.
Walter Bjorglund saw Banks hurry away.
Glancing through the window, he spied Mrs. Elder put her head in her hands. She seemed to be weeping hard. That awful Banks made her cry, again. This was bad.
Walter knew he had to act soon. And he knew just what he was going to do.
That night, Walter huddled in the bushes outside the editor’s apartment, frequently peeping through the gap in Max’s carelessly drawn drapes.
Walter was uncomfortable, crouched low, as he was, and the night air was frigid. He blew softly into his cupped hands to try to warm them.
“I should have remembered my gloves,” he whispered under his breath.
“It’s going to get lots colder tonight. But it will be worth it when Mrs. Elder is safe from this guy.”
Walter was determined Banks would never make Bunny cry again.
Each time he peered into the apartment, he became more frustrated. Banks was busy on his computer. He was not even drinking.
Walter wished he could wait for the weekend, like he had planned, but after seeing how unhappy his former pastor’s widow was earlier that day, he was convinced he must not wait.
Midnight, and still Banks sat before his computer, tapping on the keys and occasionally noting something on a legal pad beside him.
Walter was nearly ill with cold and cramp and his prey was showing no signs of retiring anytime soon.
Walter feared he would not be able to swing his hammer with killing force, as cold and stiff as he was.
He made up his mind to go home and get warm.
He would return much later, around three-thirty or so, when Banks was sure to be asleep. Getting inside and bashing his head in, then, would be no trouble, at all.
Walter was dismayed when he awoke.
Dawn was creeping up over the mountain behind his house and he realized he was too late to take care of Banks.
When he’d returned from his vigil, he wrapped himself in an old comforter and snuggled down on the sofa to get warm before fixing some coffee and a snack.
He had been sleeping soundly ever since.
This was a setback, but Walter was determined to complete his assignment. He would stay close to his quarry until the right opportunity came up. When it did, he would be ready. No more mistakes.
Chapter 26
The harvest is the end of time and the angels are the ones who bring in the harvest.– Matthew 13:39
It was past eleven o’clock Tuesday when Bunny saw Max approaching the office.
“He looks pleased with himself,” she thought, apprehensively.
Banks walked into his office, turned in the doorway and addressed Bunny coldly.
“Come in here a minute, please.”
“Sit down, Bunny. I have some news about the sale of the paper.”
“Have you changed your mind?” Bunny asked eagerly.
“No, of course not. I told you my mind is made up...In fact, it is almost a done deal. We have a few minor details to straighten out, but those shouldn’t take long. I expect to be able to turn the place over to the new owners and have Thanksgiving in the harbor at Bonaire, enjoying a traditional deep-fried turkey with the other cruisers.”
“But, Thanksgiving is only a couple of weeks from now,” she protested.
“It can’t come soon enough for me.”
“Can you tell me who the buyer is?” Bunny asked meekly.
“It’s the same syndicate which owns the Redding paper. All the production and distribution will be handled in Redding. Also, the ad sales and billing, and...well, everything, pretty much.”
“What about my job, then?” Bunny asked with dismay.
“Oh, yes. Well, I got them to agree to keep you on through the transition, until the end of the year. After that, everything will come from the Redding office. Richard, the manager, did say you could apply for a job with the Redding office the next time there is an opening.”
Bunny was completely stunned.
This was happening so rapidly she could not take it in. All she knew was in a few days, Max would be out of her life again and soon after that, she would be unemployed.
She did not know what to say.
“Don’t say anything to anyone until we make the official announcement, okay? Like I said, it’s pretty much a done deal, but it’s better to have everything in writing before we publicize it,” Max cautioned.
“However, we are still the editor and staff of the Clark’s Hallow Clarion-Review, and while we are, we have work to do. I just found out we have a celebrity here in town and we never knew it. That lunatic Dinks Dodd has apparently become some sort of famous author. We need to get over to his high class digs and get a local-angle story. You know, the local-boy-makes-good type thing. Dodd and I don’t get along particularly well, but he always liked you when we went to school together. He had a major crush on you, if I remember right. Anyway, I think he’ll give us a better interview if you are there. Grab your coat and let’s go.”
Having gotten the bad news off his chest and the ordeal behind him, Max was ready for business as usual.
Bunny couldn’t seem to make her limbs obey her wishes.
What she wanted to do was to walk out of the office and never look back. Instead, she abruptly sat down in the visitor’s chair in Max’s office.
They had been standing throughout their conversation and now her knees were weak.
“Bunny? Come on. Let’s go,” Max urged impatiently.
Bunny shook her head slowly, looking down at the floor. She wasn’t going anywhere until the room stopped spinning and her life came back into focus.
“What’s going on, now?” Max thought. What was the matter with the woman?
Max reached out to touch Bunny’s shoulder, to get her attention. Before his fingers brushed the fabric of her blouse, he thought of the other times he had reached for her and of her response to his touch.
His hand dropped to his side and he turned away.
He was just a little ashamed of the way he had been treating Bunny.
He looked at her, sitting there, and saw for the first time how ill she looked. Her face was pale and grayish and she seemed to be trembling.
She couldn’t be reacting so strongly to the news just because he was leaving. If she had cared for him that deeply, they would be together. No idiotic religious ideas could have stood in their way, he was sure.
It must be the news about her job that had been such a blow to Bunny. He began to think he could have broken the news more gently. After all, he did care about Bunny...if only she didn’t have such ridiculously old-fashioned ideas.
“Bunny?” he whispered tentatively, “Are you okay? Can I get you an aspirin or something?”
That struck Bunny as so ludicrously inadequate she wanted to laugh.
Her life had just flipped upside down. This time she felt she might not have the strength to turn it upright, again.
It seemed odd to her to realize she was feeling a greater sense of shock and grief at losing Max and her job than she had experienced when losing her husband of more than twenty years.
With a rueful grin, she said softy, “No thanks, Max. I’m oka
y. Just had the wind knocked out of me for a minute there...let’s go interview the famous author.”
Bunny got to her feet as she spoke and led the way to the door.
Max hesitated a moment in surprise and then, relieved, he hurried after her.
“We’ll try to catch him at the old Cemetery Lane house. My car’s over here.”
The place by the cemetery looked deserted, just like always.
Bunny noticed a light in the attic room and pointed to it.
“Looks like there’s someone home, anyway. What a creepy-looking place to live. Since he writes horror stories, I suppose he must have picked it for the atmosphere, rather than style.”
Max parked across the street from the house and walked to the door, with Bunny in his wake.
Banks knocked loudly, hoping Dodd would be able to hear him upstairs.
At the force of his rapping, the door creaked open.
Hesitating only a moment, Max stepped in and shouted to Dodd to come down.
Getting no response, Banks stepped to the foot of the stairs and called up.
“Hey, Dinks! It’s Max Banks and Bunny Elder. We want to talk to you.”
Hearing a muffled sound from above, Max began to climb the stairs.
“Max, don’t you think we should wait for Dinks to come down?”
Bunny felt like a trespasser and wanted to leave.
Max waved a dismissive hand at her and continued up the steps. As he reached the top, Bunny came to the foot of the stairs and looked up, just in time to see Walter step into the doorway, his upraised hand holding a hammer.
“Walter! What are you doing here?” she cried in surprise.
Was Walter doing repairs for Dink, now?
When she cried out, both Walter and Max were startled and thrown slightly off balance.
Walter’s swinging blow struck Banks on the neck and shoulder, missing his head and forcing him to twist to the side as he stepped back.
Max’s foot missed the step and he toppled, bumping and crashing, down the stairs, landing in an awkward heap at Bunny’s feet.
“Max! Max, are you alright?” Bunny cried as she knelt down beside him.
“Walter! Quick! Max is hurt. Call an ambulance,” she shouted as she took off her jacket to protect Max from the cold in the drafty hallway.
She could see he was breathing, but she was afraid to move him. She didn’t want to make his injuries worse.
There was a gash on his head from the fall and a bruise on his neck where the hammer had landed. His leg seemed trapped under his body at a strange angle.
Walter stood silently at the top of the stairs watching Bunny as she fussed over the man on the floor beside her. He was thinking.
Walter had not known Bunny was coming with Banks.
He was outside the newspaper office and overheard the editor talking about coming here to interview Dodd, but he could not hear everything they were saying.
He probably would not have planned to kill Banks in front of Mrs. Elder. That would not be polite.
He knew she would be glad to get rid of the man, but being a lady, she wouldn’t have wanted to see it happen.
Still, the way she was acting now seemed like she was worried about Banks and wanted him to get better. It didn’t make much sense.
Walter remembered the time when a mouse got its paw caught in the trap in his mother’s kitchen. She made a big fuss over it, about how the mouse was suffering, and all.
Walter offered to kill it for her, and she said, “Just get rid of it! I don’t care how you do it, but don’t let me see it ... Poor little thing.”
Mrs. Elder was probably just like his mom.
She would feel sorry for the man while he was alive, but happy once he was gone.
With his confusion gone, Walter started down the stairs to finish the job he had begun.
Bunny looked up and said, “Hurry, Walter. Mr. Banks needs help.”
Walter stood over Max for a moment, repositioned himself near the unconscious man’s head and slowly raised his hammer.
With a scream, Bunny threw herself across Max’s body to ward off the blow.
Walter halted in mid-swing, uncertain once again.
“Walter Bjorglund! What’s the matter with you? Are you insane? Go get help! Right now!” Bunny yelled with an edge of hysteria.
Bunny was frightened.
Seeing Walter raise the hammer brought back the image from the top of the stairs, just before Max’s fall.
It was no accident. Walter struck Max deliberately. He seemed to be trying to kill him.
The odd little man really was insane, even murderous.
Dear God, what was she going to do?
Praying mightily, she looked up at Walter, again, and spoke more calmly.
“Walter. Mr. Banks is my friend. Why are you trying to hurt him?”
“He’s not, either, your friend. He made you cry. He shook you and yelled at you, and today he sold your job away from you. I saw and I heard and I avenged for you. You scared me a bit when you hollered up the stairs and I didn’t hit him good. Get out of the way and I’ll fix him right now. Then you won’t have to worry about him making you cry, anymore.”
This was much worse than Bunny could imagine. Walter was doing this for her.
“Walter. I am afraid you misunderstood my relationship with Mr. Banks. You see, Walter, he was my husband before I married Pastor Elder. I am very fond of Mr. Banks. We have had some problems and disagreements and, unfortunately, you overheard them. We have caused each other some unhappiness from time to time in our lives, but I do not want Mr. Banks killed, Walter. I care about him. He’s my friend.”
Bunny was pleading for Max’s life.
She was afraid all her pleas would fall on deaf, or uncomprehending, ears, or, worse yet, Max would die from his injuries while she was arguing with his killer.
Hearing Banks was once Bunny’s husband stunned Walter.
It was because Walter killed Eustace that Bunny had to work in that office. Walter felt bad about that.
How bad would he feel if he killed her husband twice?
Would Walter have to marry her then? He liked Mrs. Elder, but he never wanted to marry anyone.
Now, Mrs. Elder knew he tried to kill this husband...would she guess it was him who killed the other one? Would she tell on Walter?
He just bet she would. She would blab to her friend who played the organ...they told each other all kinds of things.
Before long, everyone in the church would know.
The congregation wouldn’t let him keep on being custodian if they knew he killed Pastor Elder.
Those folks talked about forgiveness, but they would never forgive that.
Walter needed time to think. He needed to do something to keep Mrs. Elder from talking to her friend while he figured things out.
Bunny wanted to run and get help, but she didn’t dare leave Max, for fear Walter would bash his brains in.
For the first time she regretted her resistance to cell phones...but, wait, Max took his cell phone with him everywhere. He even wore it on his belt.
Slipping her hands slowly along the waistband of his jeans, Bunny felt for the phone’s holster.
It was difficult to feel beneath Max without moving him or drawing Walter’s attention to what she was doing.
He seemed preoccupied with his thoughts for the moment, but there was no knowing how long it would last.
While she was inching her fingertips around Max’s waist, a glint of silver just inside the kitchen doorway caught her attention.
Peering more closely, she could see it was the case of Max’s phone. It must have come loose in the fall and bounced into the adjoining room.
How could she get it without leaving Max’s side?
What would Walter do if he saw it?
Walter came to a decision. He needed more time to think, but he had come up with a temporary solution.
“Mrs. Elder, get up, now.”
“I’m not leaving Max, Walter. I won’t let you hurt him again.”
“I won’t hurt him, anymore, Mrs. Elder. I didn’t know he was your husband, before.”
“Then what are you going to do?”
“I’m going to do some more thinking on that. Right now, I need you to get up. We are going to go downstairs for a little while.”
Walter reached down to grab Bunny’s arm.
She recoiled and pulled herself up using the wall. She noticed a smear of blood near her hand and felt sick.
“I can’t leave Max alone, Walter. He’s badly hurt. He needs help.”
“He can come, too. I can carry him. I’m real strong,” Walter boasted, reaching down to lift the injured man.
“Please be careful, Walter. He shouldn’t be moved at all. We don’t know the extent of his injuries.”
Bunny thought she could probably run away from Walter while he was carrying Max, but if she tried that, what would happen to Max?
Walter was capable of carelessly casting him aside and coming after her, leaving Max more seriously injured than before.
Walter had his hammer tucked into his waistband.
She might be able to get it, if she moved quickly. On second thought, she knew even if she miraculously got the hammer and knocked Walter out, without being disarmed and attacked with it herself, knocking Walter down would result in more harm to Max.
It was no use. She would have to do as Walter said for now.
They were all in God’s hands and she would have to trust him to show her the way.
Walter led the way through the kitchen to a door leading down into a dark, evil-smelling basement.
He nudged a wall switch with his shoulder, then carried his burden carefully down the wooden steps, illuminated now by a single bulb hanging from the floor joists.
Reluctantly, Bunny followed.
The cellar was remarkably filthy, with stacks of ancient newspapers, dilapidated cardboard boxes and derelict furniture all draped about with cobwebs and coated with dust.
The sounds of tiny scurrying feet made Bunny’s flesh crawl.
She looked around for windows or a door.
Her gaze fell on the small oblong windows set high up on each of the thick outside walls.