“To catch the cryptic killer,” I answered, trying to sound nonchalant and probably failing.
“That was you?” she asked, looking amazed.
“Me and Earl,” I shrugged. “You heard about the arrest?” I asked, connecting the dots of what she had just said.
“I got the word early this morning,” she nodded. “I didn’t know you were involved, though…”
“Earl arrested him, but I was there…” I clarified, looking into my mug and feeling inordinately ashamed. “We… couldn’t save the last victim…”
“Jane…” Carter sympathized, reaching for me, hesitating before our hands touched, cupping my hand in hers as her concern and sympathy for me washed through me. I considered pulling back, but when I saw her face reflecting the emotions in a way that was totally unguarded, I reconsidered. She knew what she was doing, how she was opening herself up to me, but she was doing it anyway.
When you find a friend like that, you hold onto them!
“I know,” I affirmed the unsaid platitude and wiping away a small tear that had escaped. “It’s not my fault… but I was there! I was with Mr. Silverton and I felt the terror he was feeling! And… I felt his heart give out…”
“That’s one part of your gift I never considered…” Carter remarked after a moment, looking down at her own mug. “Being inside the head of a victim as they’re suffering must be double-tough…”
“The killer was like me…” I blurted, digging down to the what was really bothering me.
“What do you mean?” Carter asked, sounding greatly concerned about me.
“He could hear ghosts…” I answered, too afraid to look at her. “He couldn’t see them, like I can, but he could hear them… It’s how he chose his victims…”
“Like Mr. Boday…” Sheriff Carter stated, sounding more like the sheriff she was than the civilian she was pretending to be.
“Mr. Boday killed his wife and framed his friend for it,” I told her, finally looking her in the eyes and confessing something I should have told her as soon as I had found out. Maybe if I wasn’t such a coward… “His wife’s ghost was anchored to him and was screaming about it to anyone that could hear…”
“That’s a serious allegation,” the sheriff warned me.
“An allegation against a dead man…” I rebuked.
“Are you sure about this?” she asked me, looking official.
“Harriett was sure,” I answered, somewhat evasively. “It’s possible she was lying, but ghosts tend not to lie… they have no reason to…”
The woman seemed to consider this for a long moment, probably making some decisions, before nodding, like she had made up her mind about something.
“I’ll look into it,” she told me decisively. “If you’re right, an innocent man will go free.”
“Good,” I smiled, relieved that I had finally done something right!
“But Jane…” she intoned, looking at me seriously. “You are nothing like the killer…”
“We both hear the dead…” I countered.
“Yes, but he chose to use that to kill,” she rebuked. “I can’t imagine you hurting anyone…”
“I guess…” I shrugged, unsure of what to do with that.
“Jane…” she tried again, her voice going softer. “You’ve chosen, several times now, to put yourself on the line for the sake of total strangers. You even gave up your secret to people you barely know to do it! You put their well-being above your own. That’s what makes you different!”
I considered her words carefully. She was sweet for saying it, but I wasn’t entirely sure I believed it. The logic seemed sound, but I worried that my slide into the way that Mr. Eagan thought would not be terribly difficult. If anything, it might be too easy to decide to punish people on my own…
But that’s why I have friends, right?
“Hey,” she consoled some more, “you know I’m here for you, right?”
“I know,” I smiled, appreciating her more and more. “By the way… would you mind giving me a ride to work?”
“You’re going to work?” she asked, looking incredulous. “After what you’ve just been through?”
“After what I’ve been through,” I sighed a little, “work would be a relief! It would get me back to normal… Normal is what I need, right now, more than anything…”
“Well, if you’re sure…” she muttered, scanning my face.
“And besides!” I added, laughing a little, “I’ve been pushing my luck with Anne enough as it is…”
“Okay,” she relented, seeing no way to dissuade me. “Will you need a ride home as well?”
“Well, if it’s okay with you…” I hesitated, unsure of how to graciously accept her offer without coming off as entitled. “Or I could ask Anne for a ride home!”
“I’ll give you a ride,” she smiled. “Besides, with Mr. Astard still out there, I wouldn’t feel right letting you go out there alone…”
“I’m less afraid of him than I used to be…” I assured.
“But, before you go…” she mentioned, looking me over, “you should probably remove the makeup and change into different clothes…”
My disguise! I had completely forgotten! Oh, I was really feeling embarrassed now! I glanced down at my clothes, noting the wrinkles and the smell that was coming off of them… They were the same clothes I had worn to the stakeout and subsequent confrontation in the cemetery…
I looked like a wreck…
Carter seemed to be holding back a small chuckle as she saw my plight, but didn’t say anything.
Peter and Wendy on the other hand… Well, they were laughing their ghostly asses off at me!
“I’ll be right back!” I told Carter before bustling upstairs. If I hurried, I might have just enough time to lose the makeup, use a washcloth on the worst parts of grime, slap on some deodorant to hide the worst smells, and change into some normal clothes, including a hat to cover my wig-hair, and get to work in time to start my shift!
You see! This is what I get for doing the right thing…
Chapter 22
Richard B. Astard
Sheriff Carter dropped me off at Anne’s Antiques and promised she’d give me a ride home after my shift. I thanked her and waved to her as I made my way to the back of the store, to the employee entrance.
Anne was waiting for me at the door, her face looking relieved to see me.
“Are you okay, Jane?” she asked me after a moment.
“Just tired,” I assured her. “I had a long night.”
“Lots of kids coming to your door?” she asked me, quirking an eyebrow.
I confess that it took me a minute to understand what she was talking about. All Halloween ever meant to me, growing up, was that Benjamin, the dead twin brother to my step-mother, Billi Rubin, was more active and alert and the wails from the dead outside were either new or louder than before. It’s only recently that I’ve learned how most everyone else sees Halloween.
“Something like that,” I lied, letting her fill in the blanks.
“Well, I’m sorry for what happened right before you left…” Anne confessed, looking forlorn.
“It’s not your fault,” I reassured her, touching her arm and feeling the guilt she was carrying. She thought she had hurt me, or put me in a position to be hurt, which was sweet and kind of her and something I absolutely needed to do something about.
“Like you said,” I continued, “it’s that Mr. Astard’s fault!”
Anne nodded with a smile and told me, in no uncertain tones, “Well, if you see him come into the store, you call me and I’ll come running! That man is not welcome here!”
“Good to know!” I chuckled, trying to imagine what Anne would do.
“Well, if you’re feeling up to it,” Anne commanded gently, “I could use your help stocking shelves and I’ve got a list of markdowns… mostly the spooky décor, now that Halloween is over…”
“Sounds good!” I assured her, heading t
o the basement to put my coat away. I’d have to eat out for lunch, but there was a place just down the road where I could grab something good and fattening. The basement is also where Anne kept the merchandise before it went on the shelves. I found the table with the items and a list next to a sheet of price-tag stickers. The items on the table already had their price tags on them, so they’d just need to be put on display. I put the items carefully into the laundry basket, putting the list and stickers on top, figuring I’d mark down items as I restocked the shelves.
It looked like it was going to be a long day… I promised myself a big meal and early bedtime to make up for my utter lack of sleep, not to mention my near-starvation, I had inflicted on myself.
Still… it was nice to get back to normal, whatever that was…
The afternoon shift had me at the cash register, with Anne always hovering within shouting distance. I think Anne was feeling a mite overprotective of me, but I was running on empty, so I didn’t have the energy to think of it as anything other than sweet.
It was mid-to-late-afternoon that the ‘incident’ occurred… the one that would make the papers…
I was at the cash register, fighting hard to stay awake, when Richard B. Astard came into the shop, with his face as red as the paint he tried to spray onto my house! He looked ready to rage at me with a righteous fury that I was too damn tired to take.
“Don’t you think for one minute that just because they have a suspect in custody that that lets you off the hook for killing my friend!” he shouted at me, almost foaming at the mouth.
Before I could let him have it, Anne pounced on him, putting on a face I would forever call her ‘mamma grizzly’ face!
“Now, you just get your hateful ass out of my store!” she raged at him menacingly.
“Or what?” he sneered back at her, apparently not intimidated by a woman that would have me shrinking back!
They shouted back and forth for several minutes, my eyes widening at every volley they threw at each other. Astard accused Anne of being in league with the devil, while Anne accused him of being too stupid to see the truth!
“Is there a problem here?” Sheriff Carter asked from the doorway, back in her official sheriff’s uniform, and stopping the shouting match dead in its tracks. Directly behind her I could see Tim Foyle in a bright yellow suit scribbling furiously at a small notebook.
It was Tim’s presence, more than anything else, that set off alarm bells in my head. I figured it couldn’t be a coincidence that Tim and the sheriff were here at the same time. The sheriff must have brought the journalist here… But why?
“Sheriff!” Anne smiled maliciously. “I’d like you to escort this man from the premises! He is harassing employee and I won’t stand for it!”
“Actually,” the sheriff countered, a small smile coming to her lips that was much subtler than Anne’s and infinitely more predatory, “I came here to have some words with Mr. Astard…”
The entire store went deathly quiet as customers stopped what they were doing to openly stare at the scene unfolding before them. It seems like everyone was holding their breath, especially those of us directly involved in the situation.
“I’ve been working with the FBI,” Sheriff Carter continued, breaking the silence. “We’ve searched Mr. Boday’s house based on evidence obtained from the suspect caught last night.”
Part of me automatically corrected the timeline to this morning, but I didn’t dare say anything out loud. I’m just a civilian and I’m not supposed to know such details.
“It seems the suspect, one Bjorn Eagan,” the sheriff continued, pretending to refer to some notes, though I could see her eyes locked on Mr. Astard, “kept files on all his victims, including Mr. Boday… According to Mr. Eagan’s files, Mr. Boday killed his wife, Harriett, then framed Rhett Herring for the crime, even going so far as to testify against him in court…”
“He’s lying…” Astard whispered harshly. “He must be!”
“Not according to the diary we found in Mr. Boday’s house,” the sheriff countered, the trap finally sprung.
“Now you’re lying!” Astard whimpered feebly.
“I have presented my findings to the District Attorney,” the sheriff continued as if Astard hadn’t interrupted. “I expect that Mr. Herring will be released shortly in light of this new evidence.”
“It’s a mistake…” Astard continued, sounding less and less coherent.
“Now, about the complaint I’ve just gotten about you…” the sheriff remarked, her voice turning coldly menacing. “If Miss Doe wishes to file a temporary restraining order, I will help her do so. There’s also the matter of the attempted vandalism that I personally witnessed. If she wishes to press charges, I will have no choice but to arrest you, right here, right now.”
“And the assault!” Anne added for good measure.
“Assault?” the sheriff asked, turning to Anne. “What assault?”
“That bastard grabbed Jane’s arm the other day!” Anne explained. “It was hard enough to make her cry out!”
“I did not!” Astard shouted.
The sheriff turned to me and asked, “Is this true?”
“It is,” I swallowed. “I have a bruise that will attest to it,” I added, rubbing the sore spot on my arm.
“I did not grab you that hard!” Astard confessed, drawing a malicious smile from Anne as she realized what he had just done!
“I bruise easily,” I remarked, lifting my shirt, revealing a hand-shaped dark bruise on my pale skin.
If Anne’s smile had been malicious, Tim Foyle’s smile was downright feral as he scribbled into his notebook, capturing the scene the sheriff seems to have planned.
“You bitch!” Astard turned on me, his face regaining the fury he had had before the sheriff had entered. It was enough to make me take a step back while Anne stepped between us and the sheriff grabbed his shoulder in warning.
“Friend of victim-turned-suspect harasses teenage girl immediately after sheriff warns him of imminent arrest,” Tim Foyle muttered, sounding positively giddy about the story that was sure to come out. Not a lot happens in Amana, so this could make the front page, with the possibility of spinoff stories based on different aspects of the events unfolding here.
“You can’t do that!” Astard screamed at Foyle. “I’ll sue you for libel!”
“I would advise against it,” Carter told him in a professional tone. “In order to have a case for libel, what his paper prints would have to be untrue. As long as they print the truth, they’re safe.”
Foyle, who first looked alarmed at the threat, was now grinning again. “And the story is still unfolding,” he added, looking giddy again. “What happens next is up to our mysterious Jane Doe…”
It was at that point that everyone turned to me with faces that ranged from desperate pleading, to carefully neutral, to somewhat malicious.
I had an important decision to make… I could hear arguments for both sides running through my head. The angel on my shoulder told me to have mercy and not press charges, understanding that Astard had been acting out of grief, lashing out at the most convenient scapegoat he could find, namely me. The devil on my shoulder told me that this man had caused me so much grief in the past few days that he deserves the full weight of the law! If you let him off again, you’ll be nothing but a doormat! They say payback’s a bitch, so be the bitch!
I confess that the devil won this time…
“Mr. Astard,” I announced softly and slowly to everyone paying rapt attention to my every word. My eyes were downcast, looking at the countertop as I was too afraid I’d lose my nerve if I looked him in the eyes. “I told you before, when you tried to spray-paint my house, that if you ever bothered me again, I would press charges. This is now the second time you’ve done so, since then, despite the warning.”
I steeled myself and looked up into the expectant faces, including the face of Astard, who looked close to losing it as he saw what I was leading up to. I
reminded myself that actions have consequences and he knew what would happen to him if he didn’t back the fuck off from me.
“I overlooked the first time you came to this store,” I told him, my voice hardening a little with every word, “since your kids were here. Now, even with a suspect in custody that has confessed to the crime, you still accuse me.”
Astard was giving me the sad puppy-dog eyes as I continued, while the sheriff’s face was carefully neutral, that of a professional law-enforcement officer doing her job. I knew that, legally and morally, I was in the right, but that didn’t make the situation any easier for me.
“Sheriff,” I intoned loud enough for everyone to hear. “I’d like to press charges. Mr. Astard tried to vandalize my house with a can of red spray-paint. He was unsuccessful, ending up with his hands and face covered in red paint. He also grabbed me on the arm, resulting in a bruise. I’d also like your help in getting a temporary restraining order against him. I do not feel safe with him around.”
“As you wish, Miss Doe,” the sheriff answered in her professional tone before formally arresting Astard and reading him his rights in front of everyone.
Astard, for his part, was utterly dumfounded at the turn of events…
It took a while for things to quiet down after that and it was nearly the end of my shift before people stopped staring and gossiping about me.
“Well, that was something, wasn’t it, George?” I asked the large black spider that had made a cozy-looking web in the rafters above the register spot. I could see a few gnats caught in the web and figured the spider must be doing well not to have moved on, yet. I nodded in satisfaction.
“The sheriff called and told me to tell you that she’s too busy to give you a ride home,” Anne announced as she came around the corner. “But I can give you a ride, if you want.”
“That’d be great!” I enthused, smiling at the woman who, a year ago, had barely tolerated me, but now was someone I considered a good friend. “Thank you so much!”
Anne locked up the store and drove me the short distance to my home on the outskirts of town. I invited her in for coffee, which she accepted, but she adamantly refused my offer to cook her dinner on the grounds that she had to get back to her husband.
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