Defying Death in Hagerstown

by John Paul Carinci

  “Shit!” I said.

  “Worse than that!” He laughed, as he quickly walked out the door.

  The officer sat in the police cruiser and stared at Felicia and me. The romantic moment was ruined as we kept noticing Officer Cianci.

  “So how is the investigation going?” she asked.

  “We are closing in on answers. Sy was connected to Billy, and now we are going to search the church where Sy’s father and his grandfather served as pastors, and where his brother now serves. I feel it in my gut that the church is a key factor here.”

  “That’s the oldest church in town. All the prominent people, politicians, and even the founding father of Hagerstown, Jonathan Hager, are buried there. That church is hundreds of years old, and still in good condition.”

  “I know. The captain was reluctant about getting a search warrant for the church. He really has had his fill of me. If I am wrong, and we find no further clues at the church, my ass will be grass. And if word gets back to my boss from hell, I may get fired.”

  “You could always clean tables at Millie’s Diner,” she teased, her smile wide as she laughed. “Just kidding, Lou. Don’t let it get to you. Look how much you’ve already accomplished here!” she added brightly.

  “I know. But I can’t help feeling guilty for the death of Sy. Here was a successful businessman with everything going for him. Why would someone like Sy even get involved in the terror spree that just disrupted Hagerstown and almost killed Miss Lolita, me, the officer in the police station, the gas station attendant, and Sergeant Pawler?”

  “Maybe the shooter in the gas station was after you all along, and maybe shooting at the attendant was just to throw you off guard, and the shooter could have picked you off, but he failed.”

  “I don’t think—”

  “It’s a possibility, though!”

  I thought carefully about it for a while. “It is possible. Anything is possible in this town.” The more I thought about it, the more confused I was about the entire investigation. Would I be chased out of Hagerstown, Maryland, by citizens waving bats at me? Would they hold me responsible for Sy Trylan’s death? Would the 1923 murders be too old for the residents to be concerned about? All these thoughts bounced around in my head. Was my whole trip to Hagerstown just a big waste? I would find out real soon. I knew my time here was almost over. I would have to leave with or without any more answers. And my story on Miss Lolita would have to be put to paper real soon, as the newspaper and Glavin would not allow me to go much further. Glavin already wanted to fire me. He probably figured I had a story that was almost finished, so why kill it off now? Graham had even taken a bunch of photos in the past two days.

  Felicia tried to take my mind off the investigation and the danger that might still exist for me. She tried to make me laugh, even telling me how cute I looked in the hospital gown that gave everyone a peek at my cute ass. Nothing was working. Death and fear of dying have a sobering effect on people. Normally, the thought of dying didn’t really bother me too much. I figured that if God wanted me bad enough, well, He could have me. I wasn’t in all that much of a demand on earth. But now, with Felicia in my life, I would be kicking and screaming to stay alive. I had finally found something that made this crazy world worthwhile. Love does that. Love changes everything. Even a crappy, selfish, terror-filled world is much more tolerable, even pleasant, when you have a fantastic woman in your life—a woman who cares as much about you as you care about her. No, I was suddenly very scared of dying or of losing Felicia, and closing the chapter of my life without accomplishing something extraordinary. For once in my life, I knew that facing the Lord now would be like insulting Him to His face. Lolita’s words of inspiration convinced me that I had to accomplish so much more and make the Lord proud of me. After all, He had blessed me with the gift of life; didn’t I owe it to Him to present Him with the gift of a life well lived?

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  We were accompanied back to the nursing home by Officer Cianci. It was getting very frustrating always having someone following me, protecting me, and reporting my every move to the police captain. Maybe if I were able to move about freely I would forget about the possibility of an attack. But with police presence, I had no chance to forget. In fact, it made me more nervous. I kept looking around like a nut job, but I just dealt with it. Maybe Captain Krolm was correct in his thinking that with Sy dead now, the threat to Lolita and me had finally passed.

  I had given Lolita’s diary back to her earlier in the day, and I was so relieved that I had. It made me nervous as hell holding on to such a piece of history as that—all 365 pages of the year 1923, handwritten in perfect penmanship. If I had lost that diary, I would have left the country. But Lolita wasn’t worried. It amazed me how she had entrusted such a personal treasure to me.

  I wondered if, in her infinite wisdom, Lolita had known that I would be pulled deeper into the 1923 murder investigation, and that I would pick up on certain clues she had hidden away in the diary ninety years earlier. Could it also be possible that she had somehow channeled the visions I had experienced, or was it also possible that they had come through her deceased uncle to me?

  I was giving myself a huge migraine with all the wondering and worrying. The human brain is an amazing organ, but it can’t be forever overworked while being deprived of down time and sleep. How long would I have to wait until I could chill out, kick back, and not worry about anything?

  And what about alcohol? Without a drop of alcohol, I wondered how I was still alive. Then I caught a glimpse of Felicia smiling lovingly at me. Her gray eyes, so alive with life, told me that I was important and that we’d have each other forever. Alcohol really meant nothing, not after that smile. Oh, sure, one day I might have a glass of wine, but never again would I allow myself to get plastered, trying to deaden some old memory or current problem. Those days were over for good.

  Miss Lolita asked me to come closer again as she always did.

  “Listen here, Sonny, I want to talk with you before I take my nap.”

  “You want me to tell you a cute bedtime story?” I joked.

  “Listen, you! I’ll give you a bedtime story that will make your head spin!”

  “A dirty one—oh, good!”

  “Listen here, wise guy! There will be no bedtime stories. Get serious for me, if you still have any brain cells left in that head. I know you are in love.”

  “Love? Me?”

  “Yes, Sonny, love! It’s written all over your face! And you better take care of my little angel. And you better come visit me often. Otherwise, I’m a-coming after you!”

  “I’ll come visit you every week, Miss Lolita. I would be honored to see you every week. You have my word on that.”

  Lolita handed me a small piece of paper and said, “Many years ago I started reading books by a very special writer of inspirational works. His name is Og Mandino. I would like you to look at some of his books. One quotation of his has stayed with me for over forty years now. Please, will you read it out loud for me?” She smiled.

  Felicia and Graham moved very close to me, as if they were trying to read what I was about to read aloud.

  I looked closely at the typewritten piece of paper and began. “I will persist until I succeed. I was not delivered unto this world in defeat, nor does failure course in my veins. I am not a sheep waiting to be prodded by my shepherd. I am a lion, and I refuse to talk, to walk, to sleep with the sheep. I will hear not those who weep and complain, for their disease is contagious. Let them join the sheep. The slaughterhouse of failure is not my destiny. I will persist until I succeed.”

  I looked into Miss Lolita’s eyes. They were alive with excitement. Her eyes suddenly were the eyes of a twenty-one-year-old girl with her whole life ahead of her. I got a lump in my throat, and my eyes were moist as I stared at her.

  The slaughterhouse of failure is not my destiny. The words bounced around in my head, and I felt sad for a moment. I was sad for Miss Lolita, who had all t
he drive and energy of a young woman in her mind, but her body had been used up and could not accommodate the drive her amazing mind projected.

  She smiled at me, and I noticed that the room was totally silent, as if everyone was waiting for her to speak. “If you live by the words of Og Mandino, Louis, you will never allow the world, or anyone, to beat you down ever again.”

  I kissed her on the cheek and thought, Everyone needs someone as wise as Miss Lolita. May she live another hundred and ten years! But, of course, I knew her time on earth was limited. Everyone’s time on earth is limited, and we know not the total number of days with which we will be blessed. Then it dawned on me: Miss Lolita has touched many thousands of lives in her 110 years, or more than 40,150 days. What a worthwhile and amazing accomplishment, a life truly well lived!

  Officer Cianci interrupted the moment, just before any tears could run down my face. All eyes focused on him as we waited for him to come closer.

  “Lou and Graham, Captain Krolm asked me to escort you to the Lord’s Reformed Church. We will be meeting the captain and detectives at the church in thirty minutes. So, please, if you will, wrap it up here, and I’ll meet you in the front of the nursing home.”

  Felicia and I moved off into a corner of the large room. I kissed her cheek lightly, and she told me to be careful and very aware of my surroundings at all times, and also not to trust anyone.

  I assured her that with Graham by my side, I would be very well protected, and I would always be escorted by an officer as long as I remained here in town. Captain Krolm didn’t want my death on his conscience, as he had said to me earlier.

  Graham was as excited as I was at being involved in an actual search warrant investigation. We didn’t know what we would find in the centuries-old church. According to Miss Lolita, the Lord’s Reformed Church was built in 1792. It was the first church in Hagerstown, and most of the important businessmen and politicians had been buried there since 1799, including the founding father of Hagerstown.

  I hadn’t been to the church and looked forward to visiting. I was never very religious, and usually just spoke my mind with God whenever I needed to. But there was a certain mystique about the very old church and the history of all the souls, now gone, that worshipped there.

  The fact that Lolita, as a little girl, worshipped there, went to Sunday school, and then was married there really intrigued me. The fact that Sy’s brother, his father, and his grandfather were all pastors at the church made it that more interesting.

  As soon as we exited the nursing home, Graham and I were met at the entranceway by Sergeant Pawler.

  “Where’s Officer Cianci?” I asked.

  “What, aren’t you happy to see me?” Pawler smiled at me. Smirked would be more like the word, actually.

  “Of course! You are my favorite sergeant in all of Hagerstown,” I said sarcastically.

  “You’re a real wise ass, aren’t you?”

  “No, really! Cianci was going to—”

  “Well, things changed, lover boy. You’re stuck with me. Captain wants me to be solely responsible for your sorry ass, and your sidekick there, Robin!” His laugh sounded sinister.

  As I looked him over with his military style crew cut and muscle-packed five-foot-seven build, I tried to figure out if he was the type of guy who has a couple of drinks, then looks to pick a fight just for the hell of it. I couldn’t figure him out as hard as I tried. Was Pawler the kind of officer who would lay down his life for a stranger like me? Because many would not. He might just be that dedicated under that hard shell of an exterior.

  My faith had to be in him, as he had the firearm, just in case there was another attack from a crazed gunman. He had stood his ground, after all, when the motorcycle gunman was coming right at him and me the night before. But Pawler was still a tough guy to read, and as much a loose cannon as they come.

  “Now, you guys were invited special by the captain to look over the church. But I want you to stay real close to me. Don’t you two go off exploring and trying to be the Hardy Boys detectives!”

  We assured him that we would both be staying right behind him every step of the way since he was holding our protection, the loaded gun.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  The sun was shining brightly as we slowly made our way through the heavy traffic in town. Hagerstown is busy every day from three o’clock through six o’clock. What is normally a fifteen-minute trip takes twenty-five minutes in traffic. There were no clouds, and the sun made the eighty-degree air feel like one hundred.

  I was talking with Graham in the back seat of the cruiser. It’s strange to be riding in the back seat of a police car with another man. I hope I am never arrested for anything and wind up in the back of a cruiser again!

  Graham was asking more questions about Miss Lolita’s early days, as described in the diary. I was telling him how life was spent in 1923 when my cell phone rang loudly, startling me.

  Who could be calling me now? Harold Glavin had already spoken with me, and, for a change, he had not been minutes away from firing me. Felicia and I had just spoken, and Graham was with me.

  The phone number of the caller was unknown to me as I answered the phone.

  “Lou? Is this Mr. Louis Gerhani, the reporter?” the shaky voice asked.

  “Yes, who’s calling?”

  “Hi, it’s Brian, Lou.”

  “Brian?” I asked.

  “Brian, from Wally’s gas station, in town.”

  “Oh, yeah. How are—”

  “Listen, I think you’re in grave danger!” he said loudly.

  “What?”

  “Don’t go to that church. I think it’s booby-trapped. It’s gonna blow up big time!”

  “Holy crap! Why?”

  “I think someone is on their way over to blow up the church when you get there.”

  “Brian, hold on for me. I want you to tell someone what you just told me.”

  “Sergeant, stop the car! Pull over!” I shouted and I held up the phone and pointed to it.

  He didn’t respond. Rather, he looked in the rearview mirror, somewhat annoyed, and said, “What is it now? You’re getting as bad as a whiny little girl.”

  “Pull over! Stop everyone from going to the church! It’s Brian from the gas station, and he believes someone is about to blow up the church. Pull over!” I shouted.

  He abruptly pulled over and slammed on the brakes. He picked up the cruiser’s radio and called in to headquarters.

  He yelled into the cruiser’s microphone, “It’s Sergeant Pawler. Patch me in to Captain Krolm ASAP, and send the bomb squad and the fire department to Lord’s Reformed Church!”

  As soon as the captain came on, Pawler relayed Brian’s urgent warning and convinced the captain to draw everyone back from the church until further notice.

  The radio was blaring with all kinds of orders, half of which I couldn’t hear or understand. The sergeant then spoke with Brian, and I could hear his normally calm tone get very excited and agitated.

  “What? Are you sure you heard him correctly? Why would he want to . . . oh, really? How long ago did he leave? How many containers of gasoline? Do you know if he owns any type of firearm, hunting rifles, any other weapons? What was he driving? Now you listen to me!” he screamed. “Go directly to the station house right now, and wait for us to get back there! . . . I don’t give a damn! Lock the door if you want to, but get out of there and get over to the police station. Don’t speak to anyone except Captain Krolm or me! Understand? And keep the line clear for me to call you back!”

  The captain and the sergeant were speaking again as we sat in the police car, still idling on the side of the road. The sergeant’s voice, normally calm, was now impatient and edgy, even with Captain Krolm.

  “I told you! Wally, from Wally’s service station. I don’t know what set him off, but he has numerous large containers of gasoline, five or ten gallons each. The kid overheard him discussing the investigation moving to the church. I don’t know w
ho the leak is! Okay! Yes, the tow truck with the station’s name on the side. Okay, we’ll meet you there in a few. Yes, Brian will be waiting.”

  Pawler turned his attention to us. “Well, we will soon find out if your buddy Brian was full of crap or very helpful in saving your asses and maybe ours too!” He was pissed. Not really at anyone in particular; just fed up with the terror spree like nothing Hagerstown had seen in many years. Maybe he blamed me, but I didn’t care, because there was something going on much bigger than Louis Gerhani, something much more sinister and ugly—a major cover-up of some kind. This thing was out of hand now.

  And now we had Wally, another business owner, caught up in the stream of terror. What the hell was going on? How many people did Wally want to blow up? And what the hell was his motive? There is always a motive. No one risks their world, their kingdom of riches, for a prison cell without having a solid motive.

  Graham looked long and hard at me then said, “There’s some heavy shit going on in this boring little town, bro!”

  Suddenly, Sergeant Pawler slapped the cruiser into gear and left rubber behind as he peeled away from the curb.

  “Where to?” I asked, not really expecting him to acknowledge me.

  “There’s an all-points bulletin out on Wally’s head. I figure we’re blocks away from the church, and what the hell—”

  “What the hell?” I snapped, now more worried.

  “Listen, Mary, don’t go crapping your pants just yet. We’re only cruising the perimeter of the blocks leading to the church. He can’t hide. Not with that large tow truck,” Pawler scoffed.

  He drove very fast and erratically while I held on to the door handle for dear life. What if Wally had a gun? Or worse yet, what if he had some sort of bomb? Sergeant Pawler seemed to thrive on this sort of action. I didn’t know whether Pawler was just crazy, like a real-life Rambo, or if he had a death wish. In any event, Graham and I were bouncing from side to side during the rough ride. The sergeant didn’t use the siren. Maybe he didn’t want to give Wally any warning, and hoped to catch him off guard.