Defying Death in Hagerstown

by John Paul Carinci

  Pawler was on his radio calling for backup and an ambulance.

  Another solid minute must have elapsed, though it seemed like forever. And not until Sergeant Pawler backed away from the motionless and heavily bleeding body did I slowly rise to a kneeling position on the sidewalk.

  From there, I watched and waited. There was no movement from the body. Pawler didn’t move from the scene but kept his gun drawn and remained staring at the body of the yet-unknown assailant. People crowded into the street, looking, wondering, staring somberly as the blaring sirens grew louder and closer.

  Within minutes four police cruisers, two ambulances, and a fire engine had pulled up. I rose to my feet in time to see Captain Krolm get out of the trailing police car and walk up to the scene. The paramedics worked on the body to no avail. The helmet was removed and the captain bent down to look closer. He stood up straight and shook his head in disbelief. Then he turned around and shot me a long, stern look as if to say, “See what you are responsible for?”

  I kept my distance, not wanting a confrontation. I didn’t want to see the bloody, dead body of someone who had been trying to take my life. My hands were shaking uncontrollably, and I was sweating profusely. It wasn’t until that precise moment that I felt the intense shaking. I kept my distance, mostly for my own state of mind.

  People were asking questions of me as they passed by to get a closer look. All I could say was a polite “I don’t know.” I wanted no conversation, no looks, and no sympathy from anyone.

  Louis Gerhani was not the bad guy here. I didn’t ask someone to shoot at me and set the town on edge. All I had sought were answers or leads to an investigation that had been ongoing for ninety years. This was not new, but clearly, I had hit a very sensitive nerve somewhere, and someone felt he had to silence me at all costs. And now someone was dead. No doubt that “someone” was key to the Billy Blaine connection and had some direct connection to the girls murdered all those years ago.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Graham running up the street toward me. He had come back after hearing all the commotion.

  “What the hell is going on?” he screamed, trying to decipher the scene some fifty yards away from us.

  “Someone on a motorcycle tried to kill me as soon as I came out of the restaurant,” I said as calmly as I could.

  “Damn! You’ve got this whole town really pissed, my man!” He slapped me on the back. “You okay?”

  “Oh, I’m fine now, but I think I just chapped my lips from kissing the concrete.” I gave him a shaky smile.

  “I’m sure you did!” Graham smiled. “The motorcycle guy got into an accident?”

  “He hit the pole straight on after Sergeant Pawler shot out one of his tires. He’s dead as a doorknob,” I said, and I suddenly felt nauseous.

  “Holy crap! One dude in prison, and one going to the morgue. How many more are there?” Graham asked.

  “Don’t know. But my nerves are totally shot,” I said, shaking my head. “Is Felicia okay?”

  “I saw her get into her car and head home before that maniac came barreling down the road. I’m sure she’s safe,” Graham said.

  “That’s a relief,” I said, and exhaled a long breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. “Hey man, it would be great if you could stick around tonight,” I added.

  “Don’t you worry about that, buddy. I’m staying with you all night.”

  “Thanks. I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep anyway. I just don’t want to be alone right now.”

  We watched the crime scene, the police, the onlookers, and the paramedics for about fifteen minutes longer. Finally, Captain Krolm looked my way and slowly walked toward Graham and me.

  “Here comes trouble, buddy,” Graham said when he saw the look in my eyes.

  “I’ll be all right,” I smiled, knowing I didn’t really want to face the captain, who had originally tried to get me to leave town before sunrise, to use his exact words.

  The captain was looking me up and down carefully as he slowly approached. Maybe he was looking for bullet holes or blood. Or maybe he was just giving me a chance to calm down.

  He looked at Graham, then at me, and said, “Graham, Louis, I see you boys are all right.”

  “We’re fine, Captain,” I said. “Graham just came on the scene when he heard the commotion.”

  The captain shook his head once, then narrowed his eyes and said, “You know the assailant is dead, don’t you?”

  “I figured as much, Captain. Was this the same guy that was following Sergeant Pawler and me earlier in the day?”

  “Yes. Do you know who he is?” He looked at me, then at Graham.

  “No, Captain, but I bet he’s related to Billy Blaine somehow.”

  “It’s Sy. Sy Trylan.”

  “Ah, so it was Sy . . . .” I said.

  “Who is Sy?” Graham asked.

  “Sy has been one of the most respected businessmen of Hagerstown for many years,” I answered. “His brother is the pastor of the oldest church in Hagerstown. His family goes back for centuries. His father and grandfather also were pastors in the same church.”

  The captain shook his head in disbelief. “I knew him personally, and went to many town functions and meetings with him. I’m shocked and honestly baffled. I can’t figure out why he would be involved in this mess.”

  “It makes a little sense to me,” I said.

  “How so?” he asked, somewhat annoyed. “You know, none of this would have happened if you had minded your business. I warned you.”

  “You know, Captain, cut the bull. . . .”

  “Hey, Lou!” Graham warned.

  “No!” I said. “I’m the guy that everyone tried to kill here, and I’m the bad guy? Holy crap! I’m sorry Sy is dead, but he was giving me dirty looks in the diner the first time he laid eyes on me. Sy is the one behind it all. Billy’s just a pawn. He has no brains. Captain, you may have been chummy with Sy, but there’s a connection to the 1923 murders here. I feel it in my bones—”

  “You are very fortunate that you don’t feel bullets in your bones,” the captain snapped. “And if my sergeant had gotten hit, I’d shoot you myself! That being said, I will see you in my precinct, both of you, at seven a.m. sharp.” As he walked away, he added huffily, “And be prepared to get out of town real soon.”

  “It’s amazing. Really, Lou, someone always seems to be ultra-pissed at you,” Graham said as we watched the captain leave.

  “I just manage to bring the poison out of everyone. I’m like a glorified punching bag; people just can’t keep from punching the crap out of me.”

  Graham stayed in the second bedroom of my hotel suite that night. I was actually quite happy that he insisted on staying with me. My nerves were really shot, and I was constantly looking over my shoulder.

  As soon as we arrived at my room, I called Felicia. She wanted to know why I hadn’t called earlier, so I told her about the accident and the gunman who was a local businessman.

  “Sy? Are you kidding me?” she exclaimed. “I’ve known him for years! He’s always so sweet to me. He jokes with me whenever I see him in the diner. I’m shocked!”

  “Other people were shocked, too, but it was he who was orchestrating the terror against me all along. He hired Billy Blaine, and he is somehow connected to the 1923 murders, or else he wouldn’t care. The investigation had been ice cold. No one even cared or remembered much any longer. And not until I started knocking on doors and questioning everyone did the hornet’s nest explode.”

  “Sy is going to be missed. His brother . . . .”

  “I know, his brother is the most well-loved pastor in this town. And, yes, Captain Krolm is somewhat pissed at me, like it was all my fault.”

  “Why you? This whole fiasco is not your fault. You were only doing your job, investigative reporting. It’s not your fault that people got spooked because you were getting too close. I’m scared for you, Louis!”

  We spoke some more. I told her that I liked
her very much, and that I wanted us to go out together, meaning, I wanted us to only date each other. She told me that I was very special and smart, and that she liked me more than she had liked anyone in quite some time. I felt so happy I could have giggled. I controlled myself, but I knew I had a big, stupid smile on my face for a very long time. Life is good. But life also can be very unpredictable and dangerous. So I’ll just try to live each day to the fullest.

  Graham went to bed early. I stayed up thinking and reading. I analyzed my time thus far in Hagerstown. I thought carefully about the various characters I had met: the ones from the precinct, the library, Millie’s Diner, the gas station, the nursing home, and the restaurant. I reviewed every person as a possible link to Sy. But I couldn’t come up with anyone else who could be a threat to Miss Lolita, me, Felicia, Graham, or anyone else I’d encountered along the way. I couldn’t bear the thought of anyone else getting hurt.

  I picked up Miss Lolita’s diary from 1923. I would be giving it back shortly. But I wanted to read it carefully, just in case I might pick up any additional clues about the murders. There had to be some damning evidence somewhere, something powerful that could tempt a successful and respected businessman to attempt murder by hiring a potential killer. What could be so important? Why would Sy or anyone risk everything—his business, his family, and his standing in the community, and the embarrassment to his brother the pastor and his church?

  The diary once again was delightful, an escape from the hustle-and-bustle stress of 2013. The year 1923 was an amazing time in an amazing town, where most people were as close as family members—a special time and place that could never happen again, anywhere. I reread the diary and refreshed my memory.

  Miss Lolita was very young, age twenty, and a teacher’s aide, teaching young teens. I read again how Lolita danced often, baked cakes, breads, and muffins, and sat around the piano with her family. She met her future husband that year, and the relationship flourished. Her beau and she spent many a night on the swinging love seat in the yard.

  D. K. would drive her to town for occasional romantic dinners and weekly movies. They frequently went swimming and canoeing often, and he would have to repair the coupe car very often. That year would change Lolita’s life forever—not only because of falling in love and knowing that D. K. Croome was the one she would marry, but also because of the murders, which changed her philosophy on life. Lolita became more spiritual, and the townsfolk became even closer because of the horrific murders.

  These types of killings were very unusual for the early 1920s. The churches were all packed each week, and new parishioners flocked to the church in an effort to understand how God could allow such killings to happen.

  Then something new jumped out at me from the diary. It was on December 31 of that year, New Year’s Eve, when Miss Lolita was reminiscing about the year that was ending. She was so happy about her love, D. K., her family, and in particular, her Uncle Walter, the doctor.

  But it was on the evening of December 31 that she described her disturbing dreams of the dead girls, the lion’s head, the cross, and the chipped red bricks. As she recollected the dreams, she stated that the cross was on top of a large headstone that was old and very tall, and that it was by looking over the top of the cross that the chipped bricks could be seen. This was a new lead!

  It was three o’clock in the morning when I read that passage after downing four Diet Cokes to stay awake. I reread the date over and over again, knowing it was a key to the killer and the investigation. My eyes were closing as I fought to keep reading. I knew one thing: a search warrant would have to be issued for Millie’s—and for the Lord’s Reformed Church.

  Later that morning, I would be sure to tell Captain Krolm my suspicions and ask him to allow me in on the investigation scene at both locations. The captain didn’t like me, and I understood that this was his town, not mine. But he had a job to do, and I would make sure that he followed through in clearing up the latest terror that threatened Lolita, me, and the town he protected.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  At six thirty a.m., Hagerstown is quiet, just before the rushing of residents frantic to get to work and school. For a smaller town, Hagerstown is like any other place during rush hour, with lots of traffic, horns, and vehicles rushing to and fro.

  The air was crisp and cool, and the skies were a picture-perfect blue with tufts of pure white clouds passing slowly by—a perfect day to enjoy on the porch of an old home in 1923, rocking on a rocking chair and sipping fresh-made lemonade like Miss Lolita used to make.

  But that was not to be. We were being driven to the precinct in the back of a police cruiser, compliments of Captain Krolm, for our seven o’clock command performance in his office.

  This morning’s officers gave Graham and me coffee and muffins after they made a stopover at a local deli. I was starving. My stomach had been rumbling since the night before. It was clearly my nerves, and I was surprised I even had a stomach left with all the stress I had been through.

  I trusted the new young officers but instinctively kept looking out the rear window for anything even the slightest bit suspicious. At this point, I trusted no one else. I knew I was not like a cat with nine lives. I had but one life to give, and I was holding on to it for dear life.

  Graham, on the other hand, was as cool as a cucumber. If I were as well trained in deadly defensive maneuvers as he was, I would be calm too. But I was never a fighter. I was one of those rare breeds who could talk his way out of almost anything.

  There was a time, a while back, when I was in a bar and this big, ugly, drunk man had clearly stolen the money I had placed on the bar in front of me. I think it was merely to pick a fight. Some drunks will use any excuse to fight someone. Some drunks get abusive, and some get very depressed and quiet. Well, this big palooka wanted to fight as soon as I accused him of taking the few dollars. He got real loud and stood up quickly, knocking the barstool right over. I knew I’d better talk quick or I’d be bleeding all over the floor.

  By the time I was done talking, we had become new best friends, at least long enough for me to make it out the door safely. I even bought him another drink, which could have been a mistake, but this time it worked.

  Talking for me has always been better than trying to punch my way out of trouble.

  The captain was sitting quietly at his desk when Graham and I were ushered in. He appeared to be deep in thought—no doubt, what with all the action his town had experienced in the past few days. I couldn’t blame him for being annoyed that I had visited Hagerstown, but he must have realized deep down that I hadn’t really started the trouble here. It was already in Hagerstown. It had lain dormant for many years, but it was like a sleeping giant with a huge toothache, similar to the nasty drunk who was itching for any reason to fight someone. I had set off something here, and it had mushroomed out of control.

  The captain looked up from his papers and said, “Gentlemen, good morning. Have a seat, please.” His tone was non-combative. He seemed resigned to the fact that there were bad people in his community, even the ones he had least expected.

  “We have done a search of Millie’s Diner,” he began. “We shut it down and informed all the workers last night and this morning that this was an ongoing investigation. We suspected Sy, the owner, to be connected somehow to Billy Blaine, and we were right. Billy was staying in the basement of the diner. He would enter after midnight and sleep on the basement floor. So, yes, Sy Trylan was paying off Billy to cause all kinds of havoc, mostly as a scare tactic. He wanted to scare you away, and when you wouldn’t take a hint, he wanted you dead. And when Billy failed to get it done, Sy tried to do it himself, although, obviously, he failed too. So, we wanted to search his office for any clues that would shed light on the investigation. We questioned Billy again, but he refused to speak, even when we hit him with the Sy Trylan tie-in.”

  “Captain, why did Sy choose Billy Blaine?” I asked.

  “Billy is a three-time loser. He�
�s done all kinds of things in his past, but he has never killed anyone. He was clearly out of his league. Why Billy? We don’t know yet, but there has to be some connection. We’ll figure it out sooner or later.” He let out a heavy sigh and took a swig of coffee. He had the worried look of a man under pressure. “The mayor is all over our asses on this one. He wants answers yesterday.”

  That explained the captain’s change of attitude.

  “Captain Krolm,” Graham began, “how do we know there aren’t others involved?”

  “We don’t, son. We believe this is the end of the reign of terror in Hagerstown from this clan. But there are always sympathizers, relatives, others who want revenge because we locked up their pals. You can’t be too safe. That is why we are keeping up our guard on this one. We are providing ongoing protection at the nursing home, the hotel, and wherever you boys go. The workers at the diner are also all under investigation, as is Sy’s wife and his teenage son.”

  “Did Sy give us any new information?” I asked.

  “Well, I was about to tell you what we found at Millie’s,” the captain said. “Besides the stash of items Billy Blaine had been using in the basement, Sy’s office revealed a little more. He had notes about where you work at the Washington newspaper. He had you tracked and had a detailed list of your comings and goings. He knew your hotel room number, and he knew you were keen on Felicia from the nursing home.”

  “No! Is she in danger?”