Defying Death in Hagerstown

by John Paul Carinci

  “An angel? You need to get some sleep, Lou!”

  “Look, Miss Lolita is the sharpest senior I’ve ever seen. She is so philosophical, and she can read people’s feelings at will. She had all those visions very early in her life. Maybe, just maybe Lolita sent me those dreams, being that she couldn’t get out of the home and her sight is gone.”

  “Pal, I don’t know.” He shook his head.

  “I’m just wondering out loud,” I said.

  “I will admit that someone wanted your help in finally getting justice for those girls’ murders. It could be the uncle or even the dead girls, but someone gave you that intense desire to dig deeper. Even when you should have escaped this town to protect your own ass, you kept driving on, trying to find out more. So, yes, someone helped you. But you may never know who.”

  We waited around a bit longer in the conference room, just in case anything new might be shared, and we spoke about Felicia, my plans for the future, and the amazing Miss Lolita.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Graham and I spent some time that evening watching a Marx Brothers movie, Horse Feathers, just for a few laughs. We pigged out on chips and dip and had a good time. Anything to take our minds off the violence we had experienced.

  Graham left for his own room after the movie and called his family again. I called Felicia, and we stayed on the phone for at least three hours. When people are in love, they can talk on the phone for hours, talking about nothing in particular, but they never get enough of each other. The conversation can be ridiculous in nature, but oh so important.

  Felicia asked specifically about the investigation of the murders, but I explained the gag order and that the next morning I would be able to tell her everything. She didn’t press me for more information, but rather was more concerned about my safety and mental state. She was worried that there were others out there looking for revenge against Miss Lolita and me, but I assured her that everyone connected to the violence was already behind bars.

  Still, she was concerned, and she cautioned me to be extra careful in my comings and goings. I explained that Graham and I still had round-the-clock police protection. She felt much better when she heard that.

  I explained that I had had a conversation that evening with the police captain and had gotten permission to visit Miss Lolita at eight o’clock the next morning to tell her in person what had happened in the investigation. Captain Krolm told me that Hagerstown’s most celebrated citizen deserved to be informed of all the developments prior to any media coverage from a press conference. After all, he affirmed, “she lived through that time in history. That alone is truly amazing.”

  The early morning air was crisp and cool due to the heavy cloud cover and misty rain. Graham and I once again were being chauffeured in the back of the police cruiser. Officer Robert Cianci was driving us this morning.

  The wiper blades seemed to tap out a musical rhythm as we made our way out of town to the nearest open diner since Millie’s was still closed. It was rumored that Sy’s family would have a grand reopening of the diner in about two weeks. They were renovating the inside to make it look entirely different and new.

  It was early when we reached the nursing home. Most of the workers had yet to punch in for the day. Many of the residents were still not up and out of their rooms. No one expected any earth-shattering news or was even aware of the eight o’clock press conference. I was looking around nervously out of habit.

  Miss Lolita was up and dressed early, as usual. She rose no later than six a.m. each day. In my interviews with her, she had said, “Life is for the living!” and “Time is a-wasting! We’ll all be dead a long time; might as well shine now!”

  Felicia was at the nursing home early that day, knowing that I would be seeing Miss Lolita before the press conference. She was waiting for me and came running over when she saw the police cruiser pulling up to the entrance. We hugged long and hard as if we hadn’t seen each other in a month.

  “You scared me silly yesterday!” she said in a nervous tone. “Especially when you wouldn’t answer the phone or return my calls while you were at the church.”

  “Well, I’m fine now . . . .”

  “That’s not the point, Louis.” She grabbed my arm.

  I knew she was right, but I had felt at the time that I couldn’t speak to anyone—though if things had been turned around and it had been me wondering about her well-being, I would have been nervous as hell thinking the worst.

  We hugged a few moments more, not caring who saw us anymore. After all, the cat was out of the bag now. We were crazy about each other, and the threat of danger had finally passed, as far as the authorities were concerned. I would slowly accept that, too.

  We walked into the dining room to visit Miss Lolita. Graham had stayed behind, talking with the officers standing watch at the home’s entrance. He wanted me to have privacy when I spoke with Miss Lolita.

  I was there primarily to tell Miss Lolita about the discovery at the church, and the fact that her former pastor had been the killer everyone had sought for the past ninety years.

  Felicia walked over to Miss Lolita and told her I was there to see her. Miss Lolita’s face lit up and a big smile emerged. Her eyes were alive with excitement.

  “Well, time’s a-wasting! Get over here, you big lug, and kiss me one big one!” She laughed.

  “I know, I know, get close. I know the drill.” I smiled as I gave her a kiss on her cheek.

  “Don’t you wise off on me. I’ll put you over my knee! Don’t let this gray hair fool you!”

  We all laughed. “That’s why I brought my buddy, Graham. I may need protection from you!”

  “Where is that young hero?” she asked.

  “Oh, he’ll be here soon.” I squeezed her hand.

  I looked at her old eyes and suddenly felt bad for her. I thought about her possibly being an angel from above, sent here to help us all to help ourselves. I felt bad that Miss Lolita probably didn’t have too many more days on earth to help others. I squeezed her hand and felt tears welling in my eyes.

  “So why are you here so early? You trying to get a free breakfast?” She giggled.

  “Yeah, that’s it,” I said as my voice cracked and the lump in my throat grew. I had come to love and admire this special treasure of a wise and loving person.

  “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” She sounded concerned.

  “Oh, I’m fine. I just have to tell you something important.”

  “You’re not going to propose to me, are you?” She cracked herself up.

  “Damn, you ruined it!” I laughed. “No, seriously now, Miss Lolita, what I came to tell you is that we found evidence hidden at the old church—evidence from the 1923 murders. And the killer of those young girls was Seymour Trylan.”

  “That kid was a cornball even as a young’un!” she exclaimed. “We all had our suspicions about him. He was nothing like his father, bless his soul. Pastor Harvey Trylan was a saint, a gem of a man. Pastor Harvey is saving me a spot in heaven.”

  “Well, Seymour was a very sick individual who tried to change his ways, according to the evidence. And his son, Sy, came across the evidence many years later. He tried to protect his father and his family name, but he went too far.”

  Miss Lolita now had tears running down her face. “I remember all those girls, all the families of the girls. It was a terrible time, yes, it was, back then. The funerals were the hardest of all. Heartbreaking, it was, for everyone.”

  Felicia and I both put our arms around Miss Lolita and held her tightly until her sobbing stopped.

  “There will be a press conference in about twenty minutes. Police Captain Krolm and the mayor will be disclosing all the evidence and suspects. The captain has a gag order on everyone, but he gave me permission to inform you before anyone else learns the details.”

  Miss Lolita blinked rapidly. She was utterly silent, as if she was lost in thought. Her mind was suddenly back in 1923. I was worried about her, and watched
her closely.

  Felicia sat quietly, held her hand and continued looking loving at her. I had zoned out. I was lost in my own thoughts, wondering what it must have been like for Miss Lolita and the citizens of Hagerstown after the three girls were murdered: the anger, the heartbreak, the frustration of being helpless in apprehending anyone connected to the murders. So many years passed without any kind of closure. No wonder Miss Lolita couldn’t discuss the murders. That kind of pain remains dormant, but it is easily rekindled.

  We all moved to the recreation room and spread the word about the upcoming press conference. Everyone in the general area gathered around, and the buzz of talking increased by the minute. This was a big story for Hagerstown, even for the very young. The murders of 1923 were so shocking that information about them had been passed down from generation to generation.

  We listened closely as the captain and the mayor spoke for perhaps ten minutes, and then they answered only three questions. What they shared was very informative, but just a little more than what I’d known already. The people in the recreation room, though, were mostly in shock. it was hard to believe that the pastor, the father of Sy of Millie’s Diner, had been the killer. And the news that Sy had been hiding evidence and trying to kill people in order to protect his father’s name was an unexpected turn of events. There was a lot of silence and gasps, but the buzz turned to a loud roar after the press conference was over.

  Miss Lolita now had a smile of satisfaction on her face, knowing the puzzle had finally been solved. It didn’t matter that the pastor, Sy’s father, was long gone. Justice was important, and the reputation of the Trylan name would never be the same again.

  Miss Lolita asked me to wheel her to her semi-private room and asked Felicia to follow us. Graham had viewed the press conference, and was happy to remain in the recreation room talking with many of the residents.

  Miss Lolita’s room was small. She shared it with a younger, sicker woman. It was clean and neat, and had inspirational quotes hanging on the wall on Lolita’s side of the room. No one was in the room as we rolled her to her dresser.

  “Louis, I want to talk serious with you for a few minutes, okay?” she said with a cute smile.

  “Okay,” I answered hesitantly.

  “First off, I want to thank you for visiting and doing a story on me. I want to thank you for solving the murders. I think you are a fine young man. If I were only two years younger, I would allow you to marry me.” She laughed.

  “You’d be quite a handful!” I joked.

  “I know, my handsome man. I want you to remember what I say to you,” she said seriously.

  Reaching for my notebook and holding my pen at the ready, I waited.

  “We are each a reinvented and motivated force of those who have passed, but who so positively inspired and influenced us.” She smiled and waited as I scribbled. “You got that one?”

  “Got it. Love it. I’ll use it in the story!”

  “Remember that those loved ones who have passed are the same ones who are watching you, rooting you on from the hereafter.” She continued. “Always, always remember that you are the greatest living miracle in the world.” She looked deeply into my eyes and continued: “Think about this carefully, tomorrow morning, bright and early: You wake up, open your sleepy eyes while still in bed. Then you notice that God is standing at the foot of your bed, studying you for minutes. He is staring, admiring the greatest miracle of his creation. No words are spoken. He smiles a loving smile at you, then suddenly disappears. Let me ask you this: How will you live that day?”

  Before I could answer, she went on. “Just remember, every day, God goes through this entire routine with you and every one of us. Why? Because he is God, and God loves each one of his greatest living miracles!”

  Felicia had tears rolling down her cheeks. I had a lump in my throat that stopped me from my usual quick-witted response. I had nothing I could say, so I said nothing. I blinked rapidly and just stared deep into her eyes, and I waited.

  Miss Lolita was truly an angel from God. She had to be. There was no other explanation.

  “And remember this, too,” she said. “Every day is a precious gift that must be carefully unwrapped and thoroughly enjoyed.”

  “Miss Lolita, I will include all these in your news story.” I tapped my pen on the notepad.

  “Great! You know, Louis, enthusiasm is contagious. It will multiply and affect and infect those who most need it!” She smiled a motherly smile at me.

  Miss Lolita asked Felicia to wheel her closer to the dresser. She instructed Felicia to reach inside the bottom drawer for a small strongbox. With the strongbox on her lap, Miss Lolita worked the combination lock and opened the box. She pulled out a newspaper clipping. She looked at it, showed it to me, and quickly read from it. “This,” she said, “is from 1923. It pertains to the murders. You see, my Uncle Walter, the doctor, created a fund for a reward. It was for a sum of $100,000 for the identity of the murderer or murderers of the three Hagerstown girls.

  “You, my fine friend, will be the recipient of this reward fund. I will see to it.”

  Miss Lolita handed the original, yellowed clipping to me, and I read it twice. With my mouth agape, I looked at Miss Lolita and said, “I can’t . . . .”

  “You can’t? My tiddlywinks, you can’t! You can, and you will accept the reward. I will see to it that my daughter, who is the trustee of my uncle’s trust account, has it awarded to you. No doubt it will be presented to you by our esteemed mayor himself at some kind of ceremony.”

  Felicia looked at me and said, “Louis, you earned every dime of that reward. If not for you, no one would ever have figured out that Pastor Seymour was the killer and his son was hiding all the evidence. Besides, you need the money.”

  I looked at Felicia with her warm, loving eyes and her smile that melted my heart. I knew she was right.

  Miss Lolita reached into her strongbox again and pulled out what looked like a handkerchief. She handed it to me and said, “This is something very special. I give it to you from my heart. Use it in good health.”

  I took the crumpled handkerchief and looked at it. It was very old, had a design embroidered on it, and was discolored with age. I slowly unwrapped it to find something inside. When I got it out, I discovered that it was an engagement ring. I looked at Miss Lolita. She studied me for a second and said, “That ring was my mother’s engagement ring. I kept it all these years, saving it for the right moment.”

  “I don’t understand . . . .”

  “Listen to me, you young whippersnapper! I’m an old lady, and I want to be happy for my short time left on earth. You want me to be happy, don’t you?”

  “Yes. More than anything.”

  “Then, look that angel there in the eyes and do the right thing. Make me proud.”

  I looked at Felicia long and hard, dropped to one knee, and said, “Felicia, I love you, and I would be honored to spend my life with only you. Would you do me the honor of being my wife?”

  Felicia’s eyes welled up as a beautiful smile stretched across her face. She glanced at Miss Lolita then looked at me for a second or two, and said, “I will marry you, Louis Gerhani. I will spend my life happily in love with you forever.”

  “Well, get off your knees, knucklehead, and place the ring on her finger, before she wises up!” Miss Lolita laughed loudly.

  The ring fit perfectly, and we kissed. I heard loud clapping and turned to see Graham and Sergeant Pawler in the doorway, smiling.

  “Now, that’s the first good thing you’ve done since you invaded my town,” Pawler said.

  Miss Lolita said, “Now, that made me happy! Thank you!” Tears were rolling down her face.

  “I have one last saying for all of you,” she announced.

  I quickly reached for my notepad.

  She waited three full seconds until we were all paying attention. Then she said softly, “There are only two ways to live your life: one, as though NOTHING is a miracle, and the
other, as though EVERYTHING is a miracle.”