The Duce of Pentacles

by S. A. Gorden

* * * *

  The day started for Henry with a sticky stillness. Nature as well as man seemed to sense something was going to happen. At the station, everyone was jumpy. Vernon and the other BCA agents had been told to wrap up the investigation. They were needed in Minneapolis. No one wanted to leave. Everyone did their job as slowly as possible.

  In a fog caused by lack of sleep and worry, Henry sat at his desk. He tried to fill out overtime forms and other backlogged paperwork. Instead of reading and filling in blanks, he found himself staring at the walls. _Where will Billy show up next?_

  James, Lori, and Jeffrey spent the day trying to decide what to do next. The VFW boys had gone to their homes for some rest now that Billy had disappeared. Lori wanted to go back to her apartment. James argued against it not want her to be alone. His fear communicated itself to her father. Finally by the end of the day, they convinced Lori to stay through the week. Lori couldn't stand the troubled look on her father's face.

  * * * *

  *Click.* _In the silent darkened room, the hands reach for the card._

  A horse charges across the card. His armored rider's sword is raised in challenge.

  _The hands hold no hesitation when they turn off the light. The footsteps leaving the room are swift and sure. For one brief second, a silhouette is seen in the doorway leaving the room._

  CHAPTER 20: The Knight of Swords

  James woke refreshed. It had been another quiet night. There was a feeling of safety with the VFW boys still keeping watch at night and the killer, Billy, being on the run. James's mind was actually clear. He saw Lori walk into the living room. He was still using the couch for his naps between his perimeter prowls. For possibly the first time, he saw her in complete clarity. She was not beautiful, but in the morning light she was so pretty it hurt. The precise delicate features, the curls of hair framing the face, the slight squint of the eyes from behind her glasses to the following shadow of a smile on her lips seared his mind with their intensity. In his mind, she didn't walk across the room but flowed in an undulating rhythm. His clarity of vision was lost as his eyes filled with moisture.

  "Good morning. Did you sleep well?" Her hands brushed his cheek. She

  smiled.

  Paralyzed with the intensity of emotions, James sat there unmoving.

  Her hand tousled the hair on his head. Smiling she said, "Breakfast."

  James watched her turn to leave. As he marveled at how she moved, his mind locked in to the last time he sat watching the sway of her body as it walked away. The cold anger of the preacher's sermon and the pride in Lori's dignity and strength washed through his paralysis. He got up to eat.

  During the meal, he watched her eat. He never knew what he consumed but knew about each and every bite of toast, eggs and drink of milk that went past her lips. He never realized how intensely he was watching her until the laughter from her father across the table and the resulting red flush that traveled from Lori's cheek to the curve of her jaw.

  Jeffrey wistfully said, "I remembered looking at your mother the same way ... Lori you have a big decision you need to make. This man loves you.

  "Jim, you better not ever hurt her... "

  Jeffrey left the table with tears in his eyes.

  Lori opened her mouth to say something and then closed it. She opened it again and closed. She sputtered. "I can't talk here. I need fresh clothes from my apartment if I'm going to stay here another week. Come along and we'll talk."

  Lori yelled as they left the house, "Dad, I'm going to my apartment for clothes. Be back in an hour or so."

  On the drive down, neither spoke. Although both had left the house to talk, neither could start. At the apartment, James followed behind Lori. He was still enthralled with her movement.

  * * * *

  Henry woke to the day confused. What would the killer, Billy, do next? That was the trouble with serial killers. They were not quite sane.

  When Henry was little, he remembered hunting with his father. His father always said, "Think like what you're hunting. If you're hunting a deer, be a deer. What would you like to eat? Where is a good place to sleep? How would you travel between... "

  Henry had used that technique many times before. A young child lost in the woods, a drunk trying to hide after a car wreck, a series of burglaries at some lake cabins, it had always worked. But how do you understand insanity without becoming insane yourself? Insane. Insane! Tom Peterson! Tom Peterson was insane. Lori Waithe and James Makinen were the rocks that Tom dashed his soul upon in his single-minded attempt to destroy them. They had not been phased by his assault. Their indifference had hurt him even more then his failure to harm them. He still wanted to see them destroyed.

  The killer had wanted to destroy them as well. He had failed. It would burn in him. He would try again.

  Henry called. "Hi, Mr. Waithe. I would like to talk to your daughter or James ... Not there now ... Uhh huh. When will they be back? No, no, nothing wrong ... Just need to talk to them ... Her apartment ... Thank you ... talk to you later."

  For the first time in days, Henry felt he had a handle on the situation. He hummed while he drove.

  * * * *

  Billy had been rocking in the same chair for three days. The back corner of the room where he sat had the stale musty smell of a confined animal. Every time he returned to the corner after eating or going to the bathroom, he would inhale deeply the smell. He would imagine that a component of the smell was the decaying flesh of the jawbone that he carried. Frank's jaw had become his second most important trophy, after the portion of Julie's rib.

  His pickup was hidden in the woods a quarter mile from where he was now waiting. In order to preserve his other trophies, he had carried his twenty-quart cooler through the thick scrub brush surrounding the town to the apartment. By the time he had placed his prizes in the refrigerator, he was covered with scratches and little flakes of blood. The sting of sweat dripping into his open cuts was a delicious inducement for his plans. Unlike what had happened to Pike, he hoped that the next victim would be lucid during his death.

  A car finally pulled up to his ambush site. From his vantage point in the corner of the room, he was able to see who it was. He picked up an axe he had placed next to the chair and stood silently in the shadows of the room.

  The key rattled the door. Steps traveled across the room. Finally, they saw each other.

  Billy was filthy, unshaven, smelly, and standing in the shadows with an upraised axe. There should have been terror, screams or escape coming from the victim. Instead, calm eyes dissected his appearance and a soft voice said, "James, Billy finally showed up."

  The calm eyes filled his vision. For the first time since his father's beatings, Billy felt physical terror. The eyes moved aside replaced by an even more assured pair. Billy had trouble catching his breath. With a scream of anguish he attacked, swinging his axe.

  Beyond all reason the calm eyes locked on his. Somehow the swinging axe stopped its forward motion. Numbness traveled down his arm. Billy heard the axe rattle to the floor. He stepped forward and a powerful blow threw him into the wall. He tried another swing with his fist and found himself on the floor.

  He looked up and saw the two sets of calm eyes watching him. He felt the broken jaw bone gouging his leg where he fell on it. He felt for the rib. He got up from the floor, clutching his talisman. With all of his strength, he tried to move against those eyes. Instead he whirled, diving through the window. Landing in a heap in the postage stamp sized front lawn he picked himself up. Looking through the broken window, he found the eyes still watching him. With a scream, he turned to run.

  Deputy Sheriff Henry Hakanen was standing there. His gun was out, pointed directly at his head. Billy wanted to turn but he felt those eyes watching. With another scream, he lunged at Henry. Billy watched the flash of light come from the muzzle of the gun. He felt a blow, then his face was on the ground. Grass stubble scratched his face. His ears rang from the explosion. As darkness came, he finally lo
st the sense of being watched by those eyes but then other eyes started to examine him, Julie, the unknown driver, Jenny, the cop ... He tried to escape in the blackness but the eyes followed.

  Henry was shaken. He had never before killed a man. What the hell happened? Billy had been crazed with fear. He looked up at the apartment and saw James and Lori. He saw the two touch hands, love. He felt good watching them but his eyes then turned to the body at his feet. What had happened?

  Henry called for backup. When the deputies started to arrive, he went inside to interview James and Lori. He tried to do a thorough interview, but the two kept sneaking looks at each other. Henry felt like a voyeur. Finally, he called Jeffrey to come and take them home.

  James sat on the Waithe's couch. Its softness encased him like an old friend. He had stumbled into the home barely able to keep his feet under him. The energy surge that had coursed through his body during the confrontation with Billy had finally subsided. His muscles felt weak and rubbery. He must have been hyperventilating because he felt his balance go with every deep breath.

  He heard in the background Lori and her father talking but didn't have the presence of mind to understand their conversation. His mind continually played back the confrontation with Billy.

  He followed Lori into her apartment, watching the sway of her body. He knew something was wrong when she stopped. He saw her muscles tense through her clothes. Her voice telling him that Billy was there was anticlimactic.

  He stepped forward. He saw his left hand in slow motion brush Lori's shoulder and move her aside. There was no fear but just emptiness as the wild-eyed Billy attacked. He stepped inside Billy's swing, blocking it with a speed block against the nerve center in the forearm. The axe went flying, with Billy staggering backwards. Billy lunged again and this time James delivered a snap kick to the chest. Billy bounced away from the blow and was flattened into the wall. During the replay of what had happened, Jim realized that he couldn't remember any sound of the struggle, no clanging of the axe on the floor, no gasping for air. The eerie silence brought back the memory of each move and countermove with a surreal clarity.

  Billy's mouth opened in some unknown utterance and he lunged again.

  This time James caught his outstretched arm with his left hand. He pivoted on his center of gravity, bringing his right hand behind Billy's back. The Aikido throw was perfectly timed and Billy flew into the far wall and slid to the floor. For the first time since Billy started his attack, Jim saw Lori. He stepped to her, brushing her hand with his fingertips. They watched Billy struggle to rise. When he finally got to his feet, Billy's crazed looks had changed to fear. He jumped through the window.

  Jim and Lori held hands as Billy turned to attack Henry. The sound of Henry's gunshot broke the silence of Jim's recall. He saw again the hair fly up as the bullet passed through Billy's head. His hand tightened its grip on the couch's armrest. In slow steps, Jim relaxed his grip finger by finger. He rubbed the feeling back into his cramped fingers as he relived the last few twitches of Billy's dying body.

  And then the scene played back again, and again, and again...

  Jim finally forgot when he felt his head being eased upon a soft shoulder by gentle hands.

  * * * *

  _The solitary light eases back the darkness. The hands silently turn over a card._

  _A dark-cloaked man stands, head bowed. At his feet, three cups are spilled. Behind him are two cups still standing. In front of the man is a small stream. There is a bridge with a small keep on the other side._

  CHAPTER 21:

  The Five of Cups Shermon packed up his _new_ used car. A quick stop followed at the office of Jack Andrews, the school board's attorney, for his severance check. He thought the term severance was a joke. Why didn't everyone use the term for what it was, blackmail? It was common practice to give a principal or superintendent a large check when they were fired. He never understood why the public never complained about the cost. Shermon knew he had to leave before the police found enough evidence for an indictment on embezzlement. With Kawalski dead, he would skate free on the other charges.

  He had very little bargaining pressure with the school board. He had started by asking for one hundred thousand dollars. Andrews countered with twenty-five thousand. Shermon then came back with the statement that both Andrews and the school board should have known about the _loss_ of funds.

  After all, they signed all the necessary papers. Andrews then came up with the offer of fifty thousand.

  Shermon thought for a while that he might have to settle for that when he remembered that Amy, Kawalski's secretary, had also signed all the paperwork. After reminding Andrews about the readymade scapegoat they had in Amy, he agreed to seventy-five thousand.

  Shermon had insisted on a cashier's check for the money. He would drive out of state before cashing the check. He decided on South Dakota. The state had weak banking laws and a couple of the banks there were trying to get into interstate banking. Shermon knew he could use the bank to hide most of the money and keep only enough cash to let him disappear. Maybe, he should use a few thousand to hire a detective to try to find Nicole. She did have most of his savings, besides he wanted to see her one last time. She needed to be punished for running out on him. He knew exactly how he would punish her.

  * * * *

  Andrews was having a busy day. First that dirty little business with that scum, Shermon, in the morning and then the bulldog of a union lawyer at one o'clock in the afternoon. He relished the idea of screwing her, that uppity little bitch. She would have no idea that with Shermon safely out of state and Kawalski dead, they could ride out any suit brought against the board. To make sure she realized how weak her case had become, he would start by firing Lori Waithe. After all, there had to be something wrong with her character in order for a serial killer to mark her for death.

  Andrew thought he was destroying Sandra until an hour into the meeting. That was when Wayne Johnson showed up, apologizing for being late.

  "My wife, Vera, still isn't feeling too well after finding that body."

  "Wayne, what are you doing here?"

  "Didn't Ms. Thomas tell you? Our CPA firm has been retained by both the teacher's union and the State of Minnesota to run a complete audit of the school's finances. Would you believe it, Jack? The Attorney General himself called to make sure we started the audit right away!"

  When Andrews looked again at Sandra, he expected to see a smile. Instead, all he saw was a grim face.

  "Mr. Andrews, I think you will be busy for some time with Mr. Johnson. Why don't you call me tomorrow? And this time, you and the school board had better be a little more reasonable. After all, I'm just getting started working on this case. I would hate to be forced to stay up here away from my husband and kids for too long. I get a little cranky being away from my family for too extensive a period of time." She then leaned closer whispering, "Don't tell anyone, but my husband says I get down right bitchy if I'm gone for more than two weeks." In even a softer voice she continued, "Tomorrow it will be thirteen days since I've seen my family. Are you at all superstitious?"

  This time she smiled and in a louder voice said, "I've got to leave now and call my husband. I usually try to call twice a day. Mr. Johnson, I'll be expecting a preliminary report before the end of the month. When I talked to the Attorney General yesterday, we both thought that would be a reasonable time frame.

  "Good day."

  * * * *

  The two men from the district office pulled in at midmorning. They helped Mrs. Peterson load the back of the van with the family's personal belongings. At noon they were ready to leave for the Arizona retreat. Tom Peterson was still shut up in his back office. Mrs. Peterson knocked on the door.

  "Honey? You remember I told you about the church retreat I wanted to go to? Well it is time to leave. The van is out front waiting. We are going to have a great time driving down. Two men from the district fellowship are also going to the retreat. It's going to be like
a revival trip. Remember that crusade we went on when you were still in Bible College? Honey? Honey?"

  They entered the dark room. One of the men questioned, "Tom? Tom? Your wife said you would lead a few choruses during the drive down. Tom?"

  A mumble came from the back of the room. As they came closer they heard, "This little light of mine I'm going to make it shine. This little light of mine I'm going to make it shine... " They gently led him from the room as he continued to sing. They nearly made it to the van before he suddenly screamed, "God will defend the righteous! His damnation will fall on all sinners!" As suddenly as the screaming started he started to softly sing again, "This little light of mine I'm going to make it shine, shine, shine. This little light of mine... "

  After they put him in the van, the men consoled Mrs. Peterson, "He'll be all right. We've made arrangements with the local churches along the way. He'll have a nice quiet room on every stop we make on the drive down."

  They drove away. Somebody forgot to close the front door on the parsonage. It swung open a crack, an empty house hoping to be filled.

  * * * *

  It was late but it was also the far north. The sun hangs low over the horizon for hours after it has set for the rest of the lower forty-eight states. The extra daylight gives many northern dwellers a summer insomnia that lasts from late May to early July. Lori and Jim had just finished a supper meeting with their lawyer, Sandra. It was an hour later when Jim started his walk. There would be a couple more hours of bright sunlight followed by an extended period of twilight. Jim had been unable to stay confined indoors and had left Lori at her father's and had gone for a walk alone to think.

  He felt cheated. The stories in the movies and books all ended with everything being all right after the bad guys were gone. From their talk with Sandra, Jim realized that both Lori's and his problems had, in many ways, just started. The mechanical action of his legs pumping up and down somehow gave his frustration a temporarily outlet. Sweat dripped into his eyes. He tried to wipe the burning sweat away but only succeeded in smearing his glasses, disrupting his vision further.