Lightning at 200 Durham Street

by Ron Finch

  “I’m glad you’re our chauffeur, George,” said Det. O’Neill.

  Once their coffee had arrived, they had a good discussion. Chief Petrovic and Det. O’Neill were pleased to have uncovered some new information. The Carter brothers had agreed on some things, but they certainly differed in their opinion of Bella.

  “Very interesting interviews this afternoon,” said the chief. “But there are two things that stand out in my mind: first, that I didn’t detect any concern about the fact that their sister may have been murdered; and second, I didn’t detect any concern at all about how their mother must feel. That’s unusual, especially considering her dependent condition.”

  They finished their coffee, purchased some additional doughnuts to take with them, then had Cst. Brown drive them back to the hotel.

  When they arrived at the hotel, they thanked the constable for his services and Chief Petrovic told him he would put in a good word about him with Assistant Chief Rutherford. Cst. Brown left and Chief Petrovic and Det. O’Neill arranged to meet again that evening after supper to summarize what they’d learned from the interviews. That would help them decide what would be the next step in the investigation. They had a train to catch early the next morning.

  Friday, June 1 - After the Storm

  I BECAME AWARE SLOWLY. At first, I wasn’t certain where I was. Had I fallen asleep? I couldn’t say. I felt unusual, that was for sure.

  What happened?

  Everything was dark. Quiet. Then I thought I heard a noise.

  Who is that?

  I must have been waking up. I didn’t feel well. It must have been my dad.

  Why is my dad waking me up?

  Usually, I got myself up. I never had a problem getting up on time. I had an alarm clock, but I usually woke up before the alarm sounded anyway. Things didn’t seem right this time.

  What’s wrong? Why do I feel so strange?

  My head was really bothering me. Everything seemed confusing. I was disoriented. I’d heard about strokes. My aunt Addie had had one. She had died a day later.

  I’m pretty healthy for 17. I couldn’t be having a stroke.

  On top of the confusion, I suddenly felt a severe pain in my lower right leg.

  My leg was resting against one of the steel legs of the small cot I slept on. I thought I heard my dad’s voice, but it seemed a little muted.

  This doesn’t make any sense. What is my dad doing in the attic?

  I couldn’t see very well.

  Is it morning? It’s still dark. Why is he waking me up?

  I heard my mom coming up the stairs. She was crying. Something must have happened. But nothing seemed to fit together.

  Someone put something cold on my head. I could hear my parents’ voices. Someone was trying to sit me up.

  Why won’t they just let me sleep? I’ll feel better when I wake up.

  I could see a little better now. The daylight was gone. There was a lantern shining in the attic. I could make out my dad now. I could see him quite clearly. My mom was there too. They were talking to me.

  I tried to concentrate. I still wasn’t sure what they were saying to me. My head hurt, and the pain in my leg was severe.

  “Can you hear us? Nod your head if you can hear us, Joel.” It was my dad.

  I slowly nodded my head. My eyes were working a little better now and so were my ears.

  “Can you talk?” said my dad. “Just answer with a simple yes.”

  I licked my lips, flexed my cheeks, and got my tongue in the right place.

  “Yes, I can hear you,” I said.

  “What day is it?” said my dad.

  I frowned, trying to remember. My mother started to cry.

  “It’s Friday,” said my dad.

  “Why is it so dark in here?” I said. “What’s wrong with the lights?”

  “It’s night,” he replied. “Do you remember anything about Friday?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I know if it’s Friday, I probably went to school. And then I probably went to the store. But I don’t know. I don’t remember. Why is it dark? I’m in the attic. I’m in my room. That’s all I know.”

  “Your thinking seems okay, Joel,” said my mom. “You are in your attic bedroom. And it’s dark because it’s almost 10 o’clock at night.”

  “So was I at the store?” I said.

  “Yes,” said my dad. “We know you were there because we stopped to check on the store on the way home and found everything in order. The store was locked up properly. We were really fortunate there wasn’t any damage.”

  “Damage? Why would there be damage at the store?” I said.

  “Chaseford was hit by a very bad storm,” said my mom. “Earlier this evening. There’s quite a bit of damage. Most of it from the wind. Tree limbs are down and some of the fences have been knocked over. Even some trees have been blown over. The winds were extremely strong. But it wasn’t a full tornado, thank heavens.”

  When my mom was a girl, their farm had been hit by a tornado. They’d lost their barn and their farmhouse and quite a bit of livestock, but no one in the family had been injured because they’d hidden in the storm cellar. Since that time, a tornado was my mother’s greatest fear.

  “Tonight we lost the big maple at the end of our garden,” my mom said, sighing. “The wind didn’t get it, but the lightning did. We were lucky it missed the house. And the neighbour’s house, too.”

  “There was an awful lot of lightning,” said my dad. “Very severe. Four fires broke out around town. Fortunately, only two of them were in homes. And they were put out by the fire department before they could do any serious damage. Other than that, a small shed and a garage burned to the ground. It’s the worst lightning anyone around here can remember. That lightning that took out our maple also caused some minor damage to the house next door. It struck pretty close to our house. I want to have a good look when the sun comes up to see whether our home sustained any damage. Mrs. Jensen from across the street said that it looked like a great big fork of lightning hit our house. Like there was lightning all around it. But it must have been the big maple tree in the side yard that she saw being hit. She was pretty shaken up by the whole thing.”

  By this point, I was starting to feel a little bit better. But my leg still hurt and my head still felt peculiar. I could see okay now, and my hearing was almost back to normal, but I still felt strange.

  “Do I look okay?” I asked my dad. “Take a look in my eyes.”

  “You look okay, Joel,” my dad replied. He gave me a reassuring smile. “You’re just a little woozy and not quite yourself.”

  My mind was clearing and I realized that I was lying on the floor.

  “Are you well enough to stand up?” asked my dad.

  “I think so,” I said. “But my leg hurts a lot.”

  “Let me look at your leg before you try to get up,” said my mom. “Where does it hurt?”

  I lifted my pant leg above my calf and pointed.

  “See that weird spot? Just above my ankle? It’s really painful.”

  My dad helped me sit up on the edge of the bed. From this position, my mom was able to get a better look at the angry looking spot on my lower leg.

  “That looks like a bad burn,” she said.

  “How could I get a bad burn? There’s no sign of a fire.”

  “Look at the metal support leg of the bed,” said my dad. “The paint is peeling off. It wasn’t like that before. There’s also some minor discolouration. I don’t see any other signs of damage, but maybe you got hit by lightning, Joel. If that’s the case, I think we’re all very lucky. The lightning must have gone from your ankle to that metal support, travelled through the bed frame, and then found another conductor.” He pointed along the bed to show me.

  “Now that you mention, it sure hurts like a burn,” I said.

  “You need to put something on that burn right now,” said my mom. “I’ve got a remedy for burns that I bought at the drugstore a week ago. Let
’s try that. If the burn doesn’t start to get better in the next few days, then we’re going to have to take you to the doctor. But let’s try the salve first. It’s Friday night and we have the weekend ahead of us. I’m sure you’ll be fine for school on Monday.”

  “Okay,” I said, slumping somewhat.

  My mom must’ve recovered from her shock; she was already reminding me about school.

  “I’m still kind of foggy about what happened today,” I said. “Why are we using the lantern? It looks like you’ve got one on the second floor, too. Why don’t we turn on the lights?”

  “Have you heard anything we’ve said, Joel?” asked my dad. “You look better, but are you taking things in? The wind took down a lot of power lines. It’ll probably be two or three days before they have everything up and running in town. Let’s go down to the kitchen. We can put the lantern on the kitchen table and have a cup of tea and talk some more.”

  Mom agreed and we headed down to the kitchen. My brother and sister joined us and we all sat around the table.

  “That exercise going down the stairs helped,” I said. “I think the fog’s lifting. I’m starting to remember what happened. I remember going to school. I felt good because it was Friday. Then I went to the store to look after things, like I usually do. When I got there, you went home to pick up Emmylou and Ralph. The four of you were going to the church picnic.

  “Things are coming back pretty clearly now. I left at 7:00 PM, closing time, and went home. On my way home, I could see that there was a storm coming. I decided to relax and sit on the front porch for a few minutes to watch the sky. As the storm got closer, I could hear the thunder and see lightning way off in the distance. The sky got dark enough to be evil and that’s when I got really nervous about the storm. I guess you could say I was pretty uneasy. I’ve been feeling that way now and then since Jay and I found the body in the bush.

  “Things didn’t seem quite right. I felt kind of scared. And weird. So I came in the house and went up to my room. I got to the attic just about the time the storm arrived. It really was a heck of a storm. I remember the lightning, now, and all the noise. The storm was so loud, blowing against the house, and the lightning was so vicious, tearing up the sky. It bothered me so much that – I’m kind of embarrassed to say – I wanted to hide. Then there was a really bright flash and a noise that was louder than I could bear. And that’s the last thing I remember. That must have been when I lost consciousness.

  “You know, now that I think about it, I do remember one other strange thing: when that lightning struck, I thought I heard a voice. It seemed to come from somewhere in the attic. I heard it just before I blacked out.”

  “What did it sound like?” said Ralph, entranced.

  “It sounded like a man. He said something like: ‘I don’t believe it. Who are you? Are you Joel?’ Maybe my memory of the storm isn’t too good. Did any of you see anybody else in the house when you came home?”

  The four of them looked at each other and all shook their heads negatively.

  “I think your imagination might be getting the better of you, Joel,” said my dad. “You were right to be scared by that storm, though. You could have been hurt a lot worse than you were. And you’ve had a very difficult week. I’m not surprised you’re feeling unsettled. But there’s nobody else here and there’s no sign of anybody else having been here while we were gone. It was a pretty bad storm. People weren’t out wandering around in it.”

  “Tell him about the picnic,” said my mom.

  My dad gave her a grim smile. “A little after 5 o’clock, everyone was at the park, just below the pavilion. The tables were all set up, and the Ladies’ Auxiliary was busy decorating, setting the tables, and getting the goodies ready. The meal was supposed to start at 6 o’clock, and that left almost an hour for a ballgame and other kids’ activities.

  “There was a really good turn out. The younger people had lots to do and the older people had lots to watch and plenty of time to chat. The baseball game was the highlight for Ralph.”

  Ralph grinned at me. He loved to play baseball and he was good at it.

  “Emmylou was having a good time running around with the other girls,” my dad continued. “When they weren’t laughing, they were squealing. Lots of hijinks.”

  Mom and dad both smiled.

  “We got cleaned up and sat down to eat at about five after six,” he continued. “After the blessing, we got to enjoy some first-rate food. I think most of us probably ate too much. Just as we were finishing dessert, we heard the first rumbles of thunder. Everyone could see the big, black thunderhead coming straight toward us. The minister said ‘I guess the picnic is over. Time to pack up.’ He could see we didn’t have a lot of time. By the time we got the tables cleared off and the picnic baskets and other hampers packed the rain had started. I should say ‘the hail started’.”

  “Hail?” said Joel.

  My dad held out his hand, with his fingers separated. “The pellets were big. Size of a pea. They came down so fast and furious that we were all yelping and cursing, even though it was a church picnic. We raced to the new pavilion for protection. Remember that controversy last year about spending money on the pavilion in the park? Well, we were all in favour of the spending right then.

  “We’d just gotten in when the wind came. Thank God for those strong supporting walls they’d installed as part of the pavilion design. Even with that protection the storm was frightening. You don’t need to feel embarrassed about wanting to hide because I can tell you we all wanted to hide right about then.

  “As we stood there, huddled in the shelter of the pavilion, we saw a couple of small trees go down. People started praying out loud for our survival, and for the survival of the town. After about half an hour of anxious waiting, the wind finally died down, the lightning became a little more infrequent, and the rain stopped. With a good deal of relief, we said our goodbyes, wished each other a safe journey, and set out for home.

  “It wasn’t easy. The streets were flooded and the going was slow. By the time we got downtown to the store it was around 8 o’clock. It had taken longer than we anticipated because of the downed trees and the wires laying across the road. There were no lights and it was still so overcast it seemed like night had come early. We had less than a mile to go, but even that was a bit of a challenge. We passed one of the houses that had been set on fire. It’s only two blocks from here. We finally arrived home around 9 o’clock, just grateful to see the house still standing and relatively undamaged.

  “When we came in the front door, we saw your knapsack in the hallway, so we knew you’d made it home. We called your name a few times but we didn’t get an answer. The house was pitch black inside so we set Ralph out to the garage to get the kerosene lanterns. Once we had some light, we started looking for you. Emmylou came running up to your mom and said: ‘I think he is in the attic. I peeked over the edge at the top of the stairs, between the railings, and I saw him lying there by the bed. I didn’t want to go all the way up because I was scared.’”

  Emmylou nodded, looking very solemn.

  “That brings you up to date,” said my dad. “That was a long story. I think I need to drink my tea.”

  “How’s your head?” said my mom, still looking concerned.

  “I feel okay now,” I said. “My head still feels different, but I guess I’m talking okay. And I guess I sound okay and I’m making sense. And you’re making sense. So, I’m okay. I think that salve is even helping the burn. I feel so good, actually, I think I’m hungry.”

  “Good, because I’m hungry too,” said my dad. “Fortunately for us, your mom kept a cherry pie at home. So let’s have a piece of that pie and another cup of tea.”

  Mom served us each a slice of pie and we chatted about other things. Finally, my dad said:

  “Well, I think we should probably hit the sack. And hope for some sweet dreams to shake off this storm.”

  I hoped my dreams would be sweet but to be honest
I was worried. I just couldn’t get that other voice out of my head.

  Friday, June 1 - First Contact

  I LOVED MY ROOM IN the attic. A little over a year ago, I’d been getting a little tired of sharing a bedroom with my brother Ralph, who is five years younger than me. He was always bugging me and getting in the way. So my mom and dad talked it over and thought they could make part of the attic into a bedroom for me. It was a great idea, and after they’d proposed it, I’d looked forward to having my own space and a little privacy. The headroom wasn’t the greatest, but in the middle of the attic, where the peak was highest, I could stand at full height. I just had to remember there was a low sloping ceiling everywhere else. The room can get hot in the summer, and cold in the winter, but with the attic door off the temperatures are a little better. We’re burning a little more coal and wood in the winter than we used to, to keep me warm, but mom thinks it’s a small price to pay for brotherly love.

  Tonight, for the first time since I got my own room, I was nervous. I really didn’t want to talk to my parents about ‘the voice’ again. They had already written that off as something my imagination had created in response to the stress of the storm and the finding of the body in the cabin last week. But I hadn’t written it off. I had heard that voice and I knew I would recognize it if I heard it again. I was just hoping that I wasn’t going to hear it again. I didn’t want bats in the attic or bats in my belfry. But, you know, you don’t always get what you want. Sometimes your mind just won’t rest. Especially if there’s a mystery involved. In this case, the mystery was a voice. And my mind was feeling anything but restful.

  Nevertheless, I took a flashlight and went up to my room. I looked around the attic, sweeping the flashlight here and there just to make sure I didn’t have a guest. Despite finding myself alone, I was still very nervous. I couldn’t quite confess to myself that I was afraid, but I was.

  I’ll read for a little while, just to calm down, I thought. Maybe I’ll get tired enough to fall asleep? I hope that flashlight lasts for a while, though, because I really don’t want to turn it off.