Grimm Reapings

by R. Patrick Gates

  "Hey, guys," Steve said softly, stopping his bike in front of them and looking shyly from Randy to Jimmy.

  "Hey, Kid," Randy said. He always called Steve "Kid" and he seemed to like the nickname; it was a lot better than "Little Steve."

  "This is Jimmy, the guy I told you about. He lives just up the street," Randy added.

  "Sounds super," Steve said, and Randy winced inwardly at his pronounced lisp. The way Steve was always chomping on bubblegum didn't help. He looked at Jimmy, who was smirking until he caught Randy's eye. He shrugged and held out his hand to Steve. "How you doin'!" he said, automatically turning the question into a statement. "Randy says you're some kinda celebrity."

  Steve shook his hand and blushed. "I don't know anything about that. Honestly, I really don't know what this show's about. I just know it happened to my family, my brother, my sister, and my mother. And my father. I think he was murdered." Steve smiled at them, and Jimmy shot Randy a quick glance that said he thought Steve was nuts.

  "But all this happened before you were even born, right?" Randy said quickly before Jimmy had a chance to let loose a snide remark.

  "Well, yeah, I guess so," Steve said. "I don't know what I'll find out, but it's got to be better than not knowing, right? I mean, how bad can it be?" Steve put one hand on his hip for emphasis as he finished speaking. Jimmy laughed into his hand, quickly turning it into a cough.

  At least he's trying, Randy thought. Then Jimmy spoke and made Randy rethink that.

  "Maybe you'll find out your dad was a Broadway musical star," Jimmy said, a smirk curling his lips.

  "No, I think he was a teacher," Steve replied innocently, clueless that Jimmy was teasing him.

  "Oh yeah? Drama teacher? Tell me, do you listen to a lot of Broadway musical scores? Barbra Streisand, Bette Midler?"

  Steve's smile faltered a little as he began to sense the insult in Jimmy's tone and in the way Randy was looking at him. "My mother likes Barbra Streisand," he said, a little defensively.

  "I'll bet she does," Jimmy said, his smirk broadening.

  "All right, let's go," Randy interrupted, gruffly. He pushed his bike between the two and shot Jimmy a dirty look. "The show starts at ten."

  The three teens pushed their bikes across the playground to the street, with Jimmy leading the way, and pedaled three blocks north and one west to his house, a faded brown Dutch Colonial in bad need of some upkeep. They left their bikes in the weed-choked front yard and went inside. All the lights in the house were on, though it appeared no one was home. Jimmy led the way down a short front hall to the kitchen where he offered them cans of Coke. They took the drinks into the living room at the front of the house. Digging the remote out from between the cushions of a threadbare, gray couch, Jimmy pointed it at the TV and brought the tube to life.

  "Where's your folks?" Steve asked, looking at the unkempt room with more than a little discomfort. He didn't like messy rooms or unclean living quarters to the point that he often felt nauseated and faint when exposed to them. The dilapidated slovenliness of Jimmy's home was having that effect on him now, and he had to fight to calm his stomach.

  "My dad's workin',"Jimmy replied, channel-surfing with the remote, his attention focused on the screen.

  Since he didn't mention his mom, Steve assumed she didn't live with them, or maybe she was dead.

  "Sit down," Jimmy said, finding the channel for CBC and sitting back on the couch. Randy flopped down next to him, obviously familiar and comfortable with the surroundings. Steve sat rigidly on the edge of a crooked Lazy-Boy recliner whose right arm was torn and bleeding stuffing. He prissily held his wad of gum in one hand while sipping from his can of Coke held in the other, wishing he had a glass and starting to regret having come.

  Then the program started and Little Steve Nailer forgot all else.

  The plaintive voice of sixties icon Donovan sings out: "Oh no! Must be the season of the witch, ye-ah-ah. Must be the season of the witch." As the deep bass notes play out the song's haunting refrain, the camera shifts from the backdrop aerial view of an idyllic New England town and focuses in on Barbra Waters.

  "Witches, monsters, child-stealing demons-the stuff of Halloween myth, horror movies, and bad paperback novels. We tell our children such things don't exist. We tell them there is no bogeyman, that there are no vampires. We tell them there is nothing to fear in the dark ... and when we do, we are lying. Witches, monsters, child-stealing demons all exist, only not as supernatural beings, but as people, regular, normal-looking people who have monsters hidden inside them. The bogeyman is real, only he's not a man, and tonight we have her story. The worst child serial killer in the history of the United States, and perhaps the world, Eleanor Grimm. "

  Waters does a half turn in her seat and, smiling, addresses a new camera: "Good evening, I'm Barbra Waters. Tonight, we turn our clock back thirteen years, for it was thirteen years go today, on Halloween, that police in the tiny western Massachusetts town of Northwood uncovered the grisly truth behind the disappearance of dozens of children throughout western New England and upstate New York. The atrocities discovered by police at the small, little-known, little-used Grimm Memorials Funeral Home are the subject of tonight's broadcast. I must warn parents, though, what you are about to see and hear may not be suitable for children.

  "The quiet little town of Northwood, Massachusetts, nestled under the protective crown of nearby Mt. Sugarloaf, had been a peaceful haven since its settlement in Colonial days. Though the nearby village of Deerfield was the site of a famous frontier Indian massacre, Northwood had passed the years in quiet obscurity ... until police uncovered the horrors that had been committed at the Grimm Memorials Funeral Home."

  The picture on the screen changes from Barbra Waters's frozen-smiling face to an aerial shot of the sprawling grounds and woods of Grimm Memorials Funeral Home. The camera slowly drops down, focusing in on the graveyard behind the main house. The picture blurs as the camera rushes the ground and refocuses on a black-and-white photo of Eleanor Grimm. She is standing by a long, black hearse. She is dressed entirely in black, from her high-collared blouse to her patent leather shoes. Slowly, the camera focuses in on her intense, mesmerizing eyes. Her salt-and-pepper hair is caught in a breeze and frozen in billows about her head, making her look wild and scary.

  "This is the last known photograph of Eleanor Grimm, taken a year before her death and the uncovering of the horrible crimes and atrocities she had committed. Over a dozen known murders, though authorities suspect she may have been responsible for hundreds more over the past fifty years. The story of Eleanor Grimm is like something out of a twisted fairy tale come real. She was a self-taught, self-professed witch who lured little children to her funeral home estate deep in the woods. There, she performed unspeakable acts of depravity and murder in a series of bizarre rituals whose purpose authorities are still debating. Some have come to believe they were designed to somehow prolong Eleanor Grimm's life, perhaps even grant her immortality.

  "Or so she believed.

  "Some will say she was successful-after all, it is thirteen years later and she is still immortal enough, if you will, to be the focus of this news program. Perhaps. But there is an old saying. Those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it."

  During the above, the camera slowly, deliberately focuses on Eleanor Grimm's mad, staring eyes until they fill the screen. Then the picture cuts to a cute, blond-haired, blue-eyed, red-cheeked little boy.

  "Though police now believe Eleanor Grimm and her brother, who died a year before her, were responsible for the disappearances, and assumed murders of hundreds of children in the past fifty years, our story begins after her brother's death and is about the disappearance and murder of thirteen little boys, two little girls, and four, perhaps as many as seven, adults. It started with the disappearance of this boy, Jerry Hall."

  The screen lingers a moment on the angelic, blondhaired picture of Jerry Hall, then cuts to a picture of a dark-haired, Hispanic-looking boy,
smiling into the camera. His two front teeth are missing.

  "Next was Davy Torrez."

  The picture cuts to a photo of twin boys, arm in arm, grinning madly for the camera.

  "Twin brothers, Michael and Mark Lafleur, were next to disappear, taken from the Pioneer Mall in Deerfield. Police would uncover drug connections to their mother, Linda Lafleur, that would lead them to falsely accuse her of, and arrest her for, the murders of her own children."

  The screen shows Linda Lafleur's arrest photos, then cuts to a split screen, the left showing a smiling blond-haired girl in braided pigtails. Her face is fiercely freckled and her teeth are crooked, but she has a winning smile. On the right of the screen is a picture of a slender boy in a street hockey outfit, complete with hockey stick, posing as if he is about to take a shot. His uniform, which reads Tim's Pub, is too big for him and hangs loosely. His hair is in a crew cut and his face is somber. His eyes are looking forlornly off camera, as if for someone to rescue him from the agony of having his picture taken.

  "Betty Boone and Timmy Walsh both disappeared on the same day from the playground of Northwood Regional Elementary School. And for her next victim, Eleanor Grimm struck close to home again, taking Margaret Eames, who lived less than a mile from the funeral home, and who had been the neighborhood friend of Jerry Hall, the first to disappear."

  The TV screen shows a happy faced, curly red-headed girl. Next the screen splits into four square boxes. In each box appears the picture of a small boy.

  "The top two are brothers, Jimmy and Jeff Best, who lived less than five miles from Eleanor Grimm," Barbra Waters's voice-over explains. "The bottom two are Bobby Willis on the left, and Danny Stanski on the right, friends and neighbors of the Best boys. All four disappeared on the same day after setting out to play in the woods surrounding the Grimm Memorials Funeral Home."

  The scene returns to the studio and a medium shot of Ms. Waters that includes the screen behind her.

  "Eleanor Grimm next took a break from children and went after the parents of Margaret Eames, Roger and Judy Eames." Behind her the screen shows a picture of the Eames family standing on their front porch. "Police are uncertain why but have speculated that the Eameses presented some sort of threat to her. They may have discovered the grisly truth about Grimm Memorials and were stopped by Eleanor Grimm before they could ever get help. Four other deaths, the result of an apparent murder-suicide at a local tavern, Roosevelt's Bar and Grill in nearby Amherst, have also been generally attributed to Eleanor Grimm, who was seen in the vicinity at the time, though her duplicity in these deaths has never been proven." The screen behind her ripples and a new photo appears of a serious-looking boy with short-cropped black hair.

  `Jason Grakopolous of Deerfield was the next boy to disappear, and he was followed by Mark Thomas and Billy Schmidt, also of Deerfield." Photos of the two boys appear side by side on the screen. "Police believe that during this time, Eleanor Grimm also murdered Joe Conally"-a photo of a balding, pug-nosed, angrylooking man appears on the screen-"the athletic director of Deerfield Academy. Police believe Steve Nailer, who lived across the street from the Eameses, less than a mile away from Grimm Memorials Funeral Home, and who was a teacher at the same school as Conally, aided her in this. It is believed Nailer helped Eleanor Grimm in several of the abductions, including those of his own pregnant wife and stepchildren, before she turned on him, murdering him, too. When we return, the story of the modern-day Hansel and Gretel who defeated the wicked witch of Northwood."

  "Whoa! "Jimmy Walsh exclaimed as a commercial for that evening's news broadcast came on. "Dude! That's your family they're talkin' about? Your stepdad?"

  Steve Nailer smiled weakly. "No, actually, he was my father. I have a half brother and sister. That's who they're talking about."

  "They said your mom was pregnant. Was it with you?" Randy Gaste asked.

  Steve nodded. The other boys stared at him with open awe. He didn't know how he felt about discovering his father was a murderer-he guessed he was in shock about it-but he knew he was uncomfortable with the way Jimmy and Randy were looking at him.

  "Dude, you're famous! Your family's famous, and you never knew about this?"Jimmy asked, Randy nodding his agreement with the question.

  Steve shook his head. "I knew there was something weird about my family's past, but when I asked my half brother and sister about it they told me to ask my mom. When I did she almost had a breakdown and swore my dad died in a car accident, but I didn't believe her."

  "Wow,"Jimmy and Randy said in unison, after which Jimmy promptly punched Randy in the arm, saying, `Jinx! You owe me a Coke. Go get it." He nodded at Steve as Randy got up and went into the kitchen. "Damn! Wait'll I tell my buds at school that I watched this show with the kid whose own father tried to kill him," Jimmy exclaimed.

  In the kitchen, Randy didn't like the sound of that, but by the time he got three Cokes from the fridge and returned to the living room, the show was on again.

  At the commercial break, several people got up to go to the bathroom or the kitchen, depending on their needs. Whether they stayed or went, everyone in the room avoided looking at Jackie, except for Chalice. She leaned over and kissed his cheek and smiled at him.

  "I think it's goin' well," she said.

  He shrugged.

  "I gotta pee," she added, getting up. "Be right back."

  He watched her go, avoiding the eyes of those returning to the living room as much as they seemed to be avoiding his. One brave soul, a boy by the name of Darryl, with even more facial piercing than Chalice, sat on the floor next to Jackie and asked, "It must be, like, really weird to, like, watch a show about yourself, huh?"

  Jackie nodded and shrugged.

  Daryll took a sip of his beer. "Was she, like, really a witch? Or is that just media bullshit?"

  Before Jackie could answer, the loudmouthed, joking girl spoke up.

  "That's media hype. She wasn't a witch, because witches do not kill people and practice black magic. People always fuck that up. Witches practice Wicca, white magic, earth worship. People who worship evil and perform black magic are sorcerers."

  Her deadly seriousness was the only thing keeping Jackie from laughing. He was thankful that Chalice returned, bringing him a beer on her way back from the john. A few moments later, the program returned. Jackie drank deeply, bracing himself.

  Even before the commercial break Jennifer Watson (nee Nailer) was up and in the kitchen getting more hors d'oeuvres. More friends arrived, several of Jeremy's cousins who lived in the area and whom he was close with. Jen was content to greet them, take their coats, fetch their drink orders, and push finger food on them while Jeremy did introductions and the room buzzed with conversation. Mrs. Holcromb helped, even thoughJen considered her a guest at the moment. She tried to tell the older woman that in the kitchen, but Mrs. Holcromb wouldn't hear of it.

  "If you're worried about payin' me for this, don't be," she said gruffly when jen told her to relax.

  "I wasn't worried about that," Jen said quickly, lying; she had been wondering if Rosie expected to get paid for helping out tonight. She gave an inward sigh of relief until Mrs. Holcromb added:

  "I'll take it in comp time, here and there when I need it."

  Jen had to smile at the old woman's gumption. She left Mrs. Holcromb to loading the industrial-size dishwasher they'd had installed in the kitchen while she made another pass through the living room to see if anyone needed anything before the program returned. She didn't notice the way conversation quieted when she entered the room, or the way Jeremy's cousins were looking at her. If she did she gave no sign of it. Unlike her mother and brother, she had no emotional stake in this-it was as if all that the show was telling about had happened to someone else.

  Diane Nailer wished it had happened to someone else. Thirteen years after the fact, she had lately been revisited by old nightmares. She was having one now sleeping in her rocking chair on her front porch in Sunderland while her youngest son and
apple of her eye learned the truth she had always tried so hard to keep from him.

  In the nightmare, one of several that had recently been pulled from her dream vault and rereleased in the cinema of her mind, she was standing at the end of the driveway to the main house of Grimm Memorials Funeral Home. A figure was on the porch waving to her, and she realized it was her father. She tried to run to him, but the faster she ran, the more he receded, the porch and house with him. She woke out of breath, confused and frightened. And, as she had thirteen years ago and countless times since, she wondered: How did Eleanor Grimm appear to me as my father?

  The power of suggestion, Dr. Gibbons, and every other shrink she'd been treated by, had repeatedly explained. But it was more than that. She had not just appeared to be Diane's father, she had become her father. Diane didn't know how to explain that, but it was true. The police hadn't understood, all the doctors hadn't understood; only her son, Jackie, understood. "She had magical powers, Mom," had been his simple explanation to her shortly after the ordeal. "She was a witch." Being an adult, and liking to think of herself as rational and modern, she had overlooked that explanation as cute, but childish. She was no longer so sure. She had gone over it all a million times in her headeverything with Steve, the kids, the baby-there was no explanation for what happened to her and her family other than Jackie's: Eleanor Grimm had been in possession of powers that were beyond those of normal human beings.

  "She was a witch," Diane whispered to the darkness of the porch. She sat up and looked around guiltily, suddenly wary of Little Steve being nearby and overhearing. She got up and went into the house, crossing the small floor area to her son's bedroom at the back of the cottage. She quietly opened the door a crack and put her eye to it, careful not to touch it, careful not to make a sound. In the gloom she could make out his figure in the bed. He appeared to be sleeping on his side, his back to the door. Stepping back, she soundlessly closed the door, turned, and tiptoed to the living room. She pulled a footstool over to the TV and, with a momentary pause to listen for any sound from Little Steve's room, sat and turned the television on. She fumbled with the remote, turning the volume down, and found the CBC channel just as Barbra Waters returned from a commercial break. With another guilty look toward Little Steve's room, Diane turned the volume up just enough to hear, and bent close to the screen.