by Peter Ponzo
whoever did it was really after me."
He closed his eyes and whispered something. I couldn't hear what he said but his face looked in pain. I waited and when he opened his eyes he looked straight at me.
"Great God of the World, forgive these trespasses for they know not what they do."
My God, he thinks I killed her!
I tried to get up from the couch but he pulled me back. I pulled away and he let go and I slipped to the floor, then half-ran, half-crawled to the door. It was locked! When I turned he was there, standing beneath the candle, beneath the Son of God, all in black, his hands folded in prayer, his eyes glowing like they were on fire - and he was staring at me.Then he walked toward me, slowly. I was shaking, sobbing, my hands trembling.
"Father Pollicciano? Are you in there?"
It was a voice from beyond the door! Somebody was trying to get in! I turned and held my hands to the heavy door, shouting: "Help! Let me out!"
I heard a key click, then the brass handle turned and the door swung open.
"Father? Is there something wrong?"
It was Mrs. Walker, the housekeeper. I pushed past her and ran. I didn't look back.
It wasn't until the bus reached Dunnborne that I stopped shaking. He knew everything. Father Pollicciano knew that it was Leah who had been butchered. The police didn't know that, but he knew.
Why had he locked the door to the room? Why did he blame me for Leah's death? He would come after me.
Dear Jesus, my magical world has turned to a nightmare.
The next morning I called in sick. I just couldn't be cheerful and smiling to all the customers at Jim's Lunch. Yet I knew that's why they hired me; I was cheerful - usually. Life had been, for me, a magical experience and I can't remember ever being sad or unhappy, except maybe once ... long ago ... when I was very young ... but I can't remember.
The old house had been boarded up for years and when Clem suggested I use it, for free, I was delighted. Clem is such a nice man. I guess he owns many properties in the county and I guess he's pretty rich, but he's always been so helpful and so kind.
I slept very little that night, thinking about Father Pollicciano. The next morning I put on my heavy coat, even though it was a mild day, and walked to Clem's house with the collar pulled high, covering my face. Everyone seemed to be staring at me. Clem was setting the type, but he stopped immediately and we went to his rooms in the back. I told him everything. Then I ran home, locked all the doors, pulled the curtains and hid in the basement. I would live there, forever.
And Father Pollicciano would not find me, ever.
Yet, that very same night I heard noises and I knew somebody was trying to get in. I curled up and pulled the blankets about me and closed my eyes and the world turned to pink.
I could see the devil and he was in a pink robe and fire flickered from his nostrils and he stood at the head of the stairs and I rose from my bed and walked to him as in a trance. He spoke to me, softly, and beckoned me to come.
Great Lord of the World, Breath of Life, I am thy servant. Command me and I shall obey, for the devil rides this way and shall inherit the Earth lest I cleanse the world of his kin.
Rita Bullas
Terry was lookin' over my shoulder, impatient. I had to make this good. I punched up the number as fast as I could, keyed in the userid and password and immediately asked for all files containing the word Fenton. There was a little pause, then the screen was filled with an alphabetical listing. Terry was breathin' hard and I knew he had been holdin' his breath; he always does that.
"There!" he said. "See?" He pointed to the file labelled: Fenton.body. It had been created August 18 and modified most recently on September 8. I opened the file and we stared at the contents without speakin'.
The body had been found on the 18th. There was a listing of items found with the body, includin' a reference to braces. After each item was a time. The collar of the bathing suit was found at 12:11 and some body parts at 3:12, 3:13 and 5:04. The braces were found at 10:08 and there was some other notation after this: LF.body.
"What the hell's going on here?" Terry's voice was shaking. "12:11 then 3:12 then 5:04?. And what does LF.body mean?"
It came to me like a flash and I knew I was right.
"They aren't times. They're locations where they found stuff. I think -" and Cleaver finished my sentence. He ain't so stupid.
"Clock directions. 3:12, three o'clock, twelve feet away. 10:08, the braces were found at 10 o'clock, 8 feet away."
"And what's 12 o'clock?" I mumble, even though I know the answer.
"Uh ... I'd say North is 12 o'clock," he says. Cleaver's a smart dude, but I know what LF.body means.
"Leah Farrel has some files of her own, and one of them is called LF.body." I said it loud.
"Let me sit down." Cleaver nearly pulled me outta my chair. I thought I was doin' a good job but he was real fired up so I just let him go. He opened the LF.body file and there it was, clear as day:
dental identification: Leah A. Farrel
Then came all the same location info that had been in Fenton's file: 12:11 and 3:08 and so on. In fact, the first half of Farrel's file was just a copy of Fenton's file.
"Cleaver, look at the creation date of this file. September 8. That's when Connie's file was last modified."
"That means they closed Connie's file and started this one." Cleaver looked right up at me and I could see he was holding his breath again. "They know that the body wasn't Connie's - they've known it for weeks." He said it all in a rush, then he started to breathe hard. "It was Leah Farrel ... the body they found was Leah's. Then why didn't they say that, in the newspaper? I knew they were hiding something!"
Then I heard a noise down the hall.
"Cleaver, let's get out of here." I reached over and punched a key and the screen went blank.
"What'd you do?" Cleaver was looking at the black screen, but now we could hear voices so we crept to the window and crawled out. I closed the window behind me, we ran across the parking lot. Then I saw the cop car with its headlights still on, so we headed out across the field and circled back to get my old Chevy.
When we got to his basement apartment it was near 4 a.m. and I explained the function key I had programmed to logout, shut down and leave no trace of who done what to what. Cleaver thought it was hot shit. Anyway, we argued about what to do next, then I must have fallen asleep on his couch cause the next thing I know I could smell coffee and bacon and the sun was pourin' in the lousy window up in the corner of the room. He had the table set and he was beamin' so I knew he had somethin' up his sleeve.
Terry Cleaver
I couldn't sleep. Rita was snoring like a drunkard but I kept going over everything in my mind. By the time the light started coming through the basement window I think I had it all straight. I was even whistling as I cooked up the bacon and eggs. I brought a plate right up to Rita's nose and I could see her come to life. She was going to enjoy my analysis as well as she'd enjoy my breakfast. I started right in:
"Here's the way I see it. Connie lends Leah her bathing suit and tells her about Cleaver's Pond. No other way Leah could know about the pond. Leah goes swimming and gets attacked, torn apart. Connie gets worried. She'd been getting these pink letters, threatening letters. Pink, just like the bathing suit. Pink, just like her mother's dress, the day she was killed."
Rita puts up her hand to interrupt, like she was in school or something, but I keep on talking.
"Connie was just a kid when her mother was attacked, but she remembers. Especially, she remembers the pink dress, so she wears pink herself. The killer knows that and chooses pink paper to write his letters. Connie is scared stiff. She gets out of town, quick, without telling anybody. Not her dad, not her friends, nobody."
Rita has stopped eating and now she's listening with both ears.
"Except, maybe, she tells her brothers, because they knew about the pink letters. They told me, that day in K
elly's Bar." This is where I come up with the big idea.
"And where is Connie now?" I ask.
Rita is still listening even though her plate still has a strip of bacon, untouched. I reach over and take her hand. "Rita ... Connie is living in Dunnborne."
Rita pulls her hand away and goes back to her bacon. "Nuts," she says. "If she's still alive she'd go back to Gobles, to her dad." She crumples the bacon into her mouth like a stick of chewing gum. "That turd hasn't seen her since she disappeared." She takes a big swig of coffee.
"Turd? Mr. Fenton? Don't talk that way. He's a nice man, he loves Connie, he's worried."
"Did you see that bible of his? Biggest bloody bible I ever seen. And it's got red marks all through, circles and lines, all over."
"So? He's a religious man, that's all."
"Yeah? Every time there's mention of the devil, it's circled. The guy's some kind of weirdo." Rita leans back and burps. "Why Dunnborne?" She says no more, but I know what she means.
"Because that's where Connie's mother was killed." I had come to this conclusion after hours of racking my brain. I don't know why, but it seemed exactly right.
"Then she'd stay away from the place." Rita seemed disgusted, but I knew in my heart that Connie was there. I got up and headed for the door.
"C'mon. We're going to Dunnborne."
Rita looked at her watch. It was about 7:30 a.m. and I remembered that Rita had a job. She didn't have to say anything.
"Okay. I'll go to Dunnborne," I