Eye Bleach

by Paul E. Creasy

  “You know,” the receptionist said as she grinned. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of this earlier, but I may have a solution for you.”

  “What?”

  “Up on Route 460, there is a diner, Emma Lou’s Country Kitchen. The owner has been running it since Moses was still in high school. She knows everybody, and I mean, literally, everybody in town. I bet if you showed her the picture, she would clear this up in two minutes. I know if that man ever lived here, she would recognize him.”

  “You think?” John said. “I was sort of thinking Buddy would need to check this photo against the computer files.”

  “Honey…, that ain’t happening. Our files aren’t that sophisticated,” the receptionist said. “I been telling Buddy for years we need to upgrade, but this town is just too cheap. Any check against old case photos would have to be done manually.”

  “Oh…,” John said. “Well…, can you tell me how to get to Emma Lou’s?”

  “That I can do,” the receptionist said. “And, like I said, if you leave a copy of the sketch with me, I can tell Buddy about your situation when he gets in. But, I am telling you, Emma Lou is going to be your best bet. The woman is amazing! Every time I see her she asks about my Mom, and all my brothers, and she knows them all by name. Hell, she even reminded me about some cheerleading award I won back in ‘86. An award I had forgotten all about! I think she has some kind of photosynthetic memory.”

  “You mean photographic memory, right?” John said.

  “Yeah, that’s it,” the receptionist said. “She is definitely the woman to talk to about things that have gone on in this town. She knows where all the bones are…,” she paused. “Oh, uh, sorry.”

  “Thanks,” John said as he started for the door.

  “Be sure and order her ham biscuits,” the receptionist said. “You won’t ever have any better. I can guarantee it!”

  John nodded and left. The drive to Emma Lou’s Country Kitchen was quick. Despite not having a map, it was relatively easy to find. When he pulled into the parking lot and saw the considerable number of trucks parked outside, he knew the receptionist must have steered him right. His father always said to eat where the truckers eat, as they knew all the best places. Emma Lou, unmistakably, did quite a brisk business.

  He stepped inside the diner, all glistening chrome and glass, and walked to the counter. Fresh pecan pies were displayed on a rotating stand beneath a glass dome. The smell of fried chicken filled the entire restaurant. Every table was taken. This was the first place in Pikeville that seemed to be prospering. He spied an open stool at the counter and took a seat.

  “What do you want to eat, honey?” the waitress said as she placed a glass of water down on the counter.

  “I don’t know yet. Do you have a menu?”

  “A menu?” she replied, her eyebrow raising up as a look of astonishment raced across her face.

  “Yes, a menu,” John said. “I don’t know what you have to offer.”

  “Ah…,” the waitress said. “You must not be from around here, then. Hell, it’s been so long since I gave out a menu, I will have to go in the back and find one. Everyone tends to know what they like before they get here.”

  “No need to do that,” John said. “I heard the ham biscuits were good.”

  “Damn straight,” the waitress said. “Best in the south. And what would you like with that?”

  “What do you recommend?”

  “Our pork chops are excellent,” the waitress said. “So are our chicken and dumplings.”

  “Maybe the chicken and dumplings, then,” John said. “Pork chops with ham biscuits might be a bit too much pork for one meal.”

  “Honey, you are hilarious,” the waitress said. “Now I know you ain’t from around here. Everyone knows you can’t be too rich, too pretty or have too much pork on your plate. Hell, our bacon wrapped, deep fried, hot dogs would probably send you right over the edge.”

  “They might at that. Say…,” John said. “Is Emma Lou here?”

  “She is,” the waitress said.

  “I would love to talk to her,” John said. “I was told she knows everything there is to know about Pikeville.”

  “And then some,” the waitress said. “But, she’s kinda busy right now, you know, with the cooking and all. At this time of year…, well, it is always a madhouse.”

  “I would really appreciate talking to her,” John said. He pulled the police sketch out of the envelope and showed it to the waitress. “I need to know if she has ever seen this man before. It’s important.”

  “Shew-eee!” the waitress said as she held the picture up to her face. “That boy is one ‘hunka hunka of burning love’.” Her eyes drank in the sketch, studying the chiseled features and movie-star-good-looks of the subject with great intensity. She paused when she saw the Roman collar around his neck, and her face dropped. “Don’t it just figure. The hot ones are always either gay, or something else is wrong with them. A man of the cloth, too. Ain’t it a shame? Such a waste.”

  “I bet that wouldn’t stop you, Doris,” the trucker sitting beside John teased. “But it don’t matter. You know, my offer still stands. I’d be a much better man for you than some sissy preacher boy.”

  “In your dreams, Frank,” Doris snapped.

  After a long belch, Frank said, “I just laid out some new AstroTurf in the back of my El Camino. I would love to have you be the first to break it in.”

  “Charming, ain’t he?” the waitress said as she quickly turned back to John. “Well…, tell you what. I’ll go show Emma Lou the picture and see if it rings a bell. Trust me, if he were from around here, she’d know.”

  John thanked her and sipped his water as Doris took the picture back into the kitchen. A few moments later, Doris and another woman came out. The woman looked to be in her late eighties at least. From the sallow look in her complexion and the extra hundred pounds she was carrying around her waist, she was not in good health. Her face was friendly and inviting, though, so his hopes rose.

  “Is this your picture?” the older woman asked.

  “Yes, and, are you Emma Lou?” John said.

  “I am,” she replied. “Where did you get this? I am very curious. I think I know this man.”

  “I knew it! I just knew it!” John said.

  “Yes…, I never forget a face,” Emma Lou said. “But…, why the sketch? I am confused.”

  “He may be related to an old case I am working on. Did you ever hear of any children going missing around here, say, back in ‘76?”

  “Oh dear, yes,” Emma Lou said. “Tragic. Just tragic. I heard about it from a friend. She said the girl’s parents were beside themselves with grief. Police never did find her.”

  “I never heard about any of that,” Doris said. “And I have lived here all my life.”

  “Well…, not everything makes the papers, you know,” Emma Lou said.

  “Oh, thank God,” John said. “I can’t believe it. I just can’t believe it! I was right!”

  “Maybe you need to tell me what this is all about,” Emma Lou said.

  “It is a long story, but, I think my wife is the little girl that went missing.”

  “And this picture?” Emma Lou said. “What does it have to do with the case?”

  “That man kidnapped our son!”

  “Mercy! How awful,” Doris cried. “And you think—”

  “—What is your name, sir?” Emma Lou asked.

  “John…, John Delaney.”

  Emma Lou took off her apron and said, “I think you need to come up to my house, right away. I have something to show you that might help with this situation. This is serious. Very serious indeed.”

  “Oh, Jesus,” John said. “So, you really do know this man? You know what he is capable of, then. Tell me! Tell me what you—”

  “—I know of him,” Emma Lou said. “But…, I have something up at my house that might help. My late husband always chided me about being a packrat, but, I do kee
p everything. I know I have a letter that…” She paused before adding, “But shoot…, my ride ain’t going to be here until nine. My son-in-law borrowed my truck today.”

  “I can take you,” John said. “We can go right now! If…, if you don’t mind. I am desperate here. I…, I…,” he added as he choked back a sob.

  “Yes. I see we need to go, right now, just like you said. We need to go find your little boy, and we will,” Emma Lou said. She turned to Doris and said, “Do you mind taking over in the kitchen for me while I’m gone?”

  “No sweat, Emma Lou,” Doris said. “I can get Francine to wait tables in my place.”

  “You’re a doll,” Emma Lou said. She turned back to John and said, “Now, let’s go. I sure hope your car has good traction. I live way out in the sticks.”

  *****

  Forty minutes, and at least forty stories later, John and Emma Lou turned onto yet another narrow and unpaved road. He had long ago lost track of where they were. She had not exaggerated. This was about as rural as it got.

  His shocks were taking quite a beating as they bounced over the uneven dirt and gravel path, but he didn’t care. Shocks can be fixed. Tires can be patched. To finally have a big break, and possibly find Billy, was beyond value. For the first time in weeks, he felt he was making progress. He turned and looked at Emma Lou and smiled. She was the first person to actually help him in this whole process.

  “I can’t thank you enough, Emma Lou,” John said. “This has been rough. Rougher than I can —”

  “—No need to say anymore,” she said. “I just can’t imagine what I would’ve done if someone had snatched one of my youngins back when they were little.” She paused and added, “And, before we go any farther, you need to do me a favor.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah, we’ve been in this car for a while, and, gotten to know each other quite well.”

  “We have,” John said.

  “So, you don’t need to call me Emma Lou anymore,” she said. “All my family and good friends call me Maw Maw.”

  “OK, you have a deal,” he said. “So…, Maw Maw, how much further to—”

  Maw Maw pointed to a turn off into the woods and said, “—Oh, it’s right up there. Not much farther now, I swear.”

  Chapter 23

  April 21st, 2017 - Mountain View Antiquarian Books and Supplies - Mountain View, California - 11:30 AM

  The bell over the door rang as Father Morales walked inside the bookstore. After a quick glance around the interior, he sighed. He knew he was out of his element. To his right, on a small table, a collection of magic crystals were for sale. The sign was hand written — Love crystals, buy 2 get 1 free — this week only!

  A thick cloud of patchouli and sandalwood incense assaulted his nostrils and he struggled to hold back his cough. It was an age-old problem. Even back at his church, he had issues with incense. His life-long allergies created a sneezing fit every time he swung the censor for Mass. He cleared his throat and walked further inside the store, taking out his handkerchief and covering his nose to try and filter out some of the scent.

  Thankfully, it worked, and he breathed clear as the smoke dissipated a bit. Despite the thin grey haze in the air, the shop was surprisingly bright inside. He looked to his left and saw several rows of book-filled shelves. A quick glance at the titles told him this wasn’t the neighborhood Barnes & Noble. A title caught his eye — A Modern Witches Guide to Love, Life and Attracting Prosperity. He picked it up. The cheery pastel colors of the binding and the beautiful, half-clad female model on the cover concealed the sinister contents inside. So many people play with forces they don’t comprehend. Fools! He shook his head and turned to his left.

  More shelves were stocked with every conceivable herb and spice imaginable. Some he recognized as being used in benign healing rituals. Others, like the jar of Mandrake he spied, were for more diabolical purposes. He saw something else, too. It was something he was sadly very familiar with and he sighed. Several rows of jar candles, all emblazoned with the image of a cloaked, female skeletal figure, lined the top of the bookcase. He knew this image well, having seen it not only back in Alyssa’s apartment, but in great abundance in his native Mexico. They were icons to the ultimate abomination, Santa Muerte, the patroness “saint” of death. He grimaced in disgust as he turned away from them and walked to the front of the store. To think the land that venerated Our Lady of Guadalupe could devolve to this atrocity.

  The clerk at the cash register was an attractive young woman, her beauty still apparent despite the enormous dragon-shaped ring protruding from her bottom lip. She exuded cool aloofness beneath her overly pale makeup and jet black dyed hair. She smirked as he approached and said, “Checking out the competition today, eh Father?”

  “I was wondering if you could help me?” Hector said.

  “Oh, I bet I could help you with a lot of things, Father,” she said as she lazily ran her eyes up and down his tall frame. She closed her eyes, opened her mouth, and ran her long, pierced tongue over her face jewelry. Dropping her voice an octave, she mockingly added, “all kinds of things. Things your woman denied mind could never imagine.” She laughed as she added, “I was wondering, do you boys in black still wear that cilice around your thigh? Kinky! I bet I could take that thing for a whirl and tie it around your —”

  “—I am serious, Miss,” Hector interrupted. “I really do need assistance.”

  The clerk shrugged and stood up straight, “OK, OK, I’ll play it straight. No need to get your panties in a bunch. I was just having a little fun with you.”

  “Does a Darryl Summers work here?” Hector asked. His tone was even. He would not give her the satisfaction of seeing him rattled.

  “Yeah, we have a Darryl Summers here,” the clerk said. “And he is a real asswipe, too.” She sneered as she added, “Why do you want to know? Darryl never was one to hang around with the priestly sort.”

  “It is a personal matter. I really do need to speak with him.”

  She shrugged. “So, would I. The little bastard picked a horrible time to run off. I can’t imagine what his Mom will say when I tell her. Especially at this time of year.”

  “Mom?”

  “Yeah,” the clerk said. “She owns this place, but he ‘runs’ it,” she added with an emphasis on the scare quotes, “and I use that term loosely. Lately, I have been running it by myself.”

  “Do you have any idea where he went?”

  “You sure seem very curious about a little creep like Darryl,” the clerk said. She crooked her mouth into a sly grin and added, “Was he an old altar boy of yours, or something? You wanting to restoke an old flame? And here I thought you and I made a connection. I’m very jealous.”

  Hector fought back his scowl and said, “This is no joke. It is very important. Do you know where he went?”

  “He split a couple of weeks ago. I thought it was just another example of his getting his dick stuck in a mousetrap. That boy sure never could keep his zipper closed, and trust me, I should know. But, yesterday he called to check on things and said he would be back after Beltane. You can always come back then.”

  “Beltane?”

  “Yeah, you never heard of Beltane, Padre?” the clerk said. “Oh, you’d love it! All sorts of silly fun, just like your Mass. It’s only a few days away now, on the 30th. There is a big ass festival taking place up at his Mom’s.”

  “And where is that?”

  “It’s all listed on the poster in the back of the store,” the clerk said as she pointed. “Hell, we’ve been swamped with these Wiccan hippie assholes for days now, getting ready for the big day. I’ll be glad when it is over.” She sighed and said, “I guess I should have been a dental tech just like my Mom said.”

  “So, I take it you don’t buy into any of this, then?” Hector said.

  The clerk grinned, picked up a pink crystal from the counter, held it in the air and said, “No. It’s all crap, but hey, it pays the bills. If people want to fo
rk over good money for some two-dollar rock they think will bring them true love, more power to them. If they want to buy some stupid candle that looks like a drag queen Skeletor from the old He-Man cartoons, who am I to stop them? It’s the American way, right?”

  “I don’t think so,” Hector said. “It is a sin to take advantage of people’s primitive superstitions — especially when you are messing around with things that should not be disturbed.”

  “Well, it’s funny you should say that,” the clerk said as she laughed. “You boys in the Catholic Church have your own racket going pretty nicely, don’t you? What with the holy water and rosaries and such. Don’t like the competition, do you?”

  Hector cleared his throat and said, “About Darryl — is he a believer in all of this?”

  “Yeah…,” the clerk said, “I think so. I used to think Darryl thought it was all crap too, but, I was wrong. I suppose when you have a mom like he has, it’s going to warp your mind. Or…, who knows, maybe that redneck bimbo he knocked up screwed with his head? He never was that bright.”

  Hector raised an eyebrow and said, “Oh? So, he was the father.”

  “Wait a minute, Padre,” the clerk said as she narrowed her eyes and stared at Hector, “what is this all about, really? Are you some kind of cop? You seem a little too interested in…” She opened her eyes wide before nodding. “Oh…, yeah. I get it now. This isn’t about Darryl at all, is it? You must be friends with that crazy-cracker babe, Alyssa! She must have told you about my call.” She threw her head back and laughed, “Jesus H. Christ, this is rich! I must have spooked her so badly she needed to sic her priest on me.” She scowled as she leaned across the counter. “Well, you can tell that mountain whore that she can keep her man all she wants. I don’t give a shit about him. I just want my money. Can you remember that? Can you remember that, Father?”

  “I can remember,” Hector said.

  “Good…, now…, either buy something, or…,” the clerk paused as the door opened and a couple of customers entered. She observed their dismissive side glance at the priest. She continued in a whisper, “get the hell out. You are bad for business, you know.”