Kevin returned behind the bar to refill a glass. “Well, hopefully Pete never hears about this.”
The hooded Satanists had formed a semicircle around the Baphomet. Aamon Lasalle stood in front of the statue, chanting into the bullhorn. Finn recognized the same foreign tongue he heard during his first encounter with Lasalle. A man in a black ski mask holding a large stick interrupted the ceremony at one point to scream at a Lasalle for leading people to hell, but the police intervened, and Lasalle continued chanting. The Satanists cheered at the end. The Bible poster-holders in the other corral did not. Then the visitors packed up, and rolled Baphomet into the truck.
“I’m glad that’s over.” Finn took a deep breath and settled back on a stool.
“You got that right,” Kevin commented as he threw a coaster in front of a new customer who had taken up residence two stools down from Finn.”
“What’s your pleasure, my friend?”
The middle age customer slightly smiled but remained silent.
“So much to choose from, I understand,” Kevin said. “Take your time.”
The man stood up and took a step back from the stool. Kevin anticipated his action. “The men’s room is in the back to the right.”
There was no response to Kevin’s direction. The man methodically reached under his shirt and pulled out what appeared to be two balloons. Without a word, the man calmly threw a balloon at Kevin. Red liquid exploded all over his chest. In what seemed like a continuation of one fluid motion, the male let fly with the second balloon at Finn. It caught Finn on his right shoulder, the red liquid splashing over the right side of his upper body.
“Satan is the real truth!” were the only words shouted before the man ran out the door and disappeared.
Finn and Kevin were still stunned. They looked at each other and their red stained clothing. “What the hell!” Finn exclaimed.
Kevin did not respond. His attention was drawn to the window of the pub. He jabbed his finger toward the window and stuttered, “Look! Look!”
Finn wheeled around to find the hooded figure of Aamon Lasalle staring through the window. Lasalle performed a series of unfamiliar gestures, but his words were clear. “Let those soaked with the sacrificial blood be tormented by the demonic underworld to atone for their sins.” After a moment of silence to display a wide, sinister smile, Lasalle was gone. The truck and SUV carried all the Satanists and their statue away.
Finn looked down at his stained clothing. Was it really blood? He turned his attention to Kevin. “Let me be clear now. If any demons ask for your home address, please give them phony information.”
May 18th
“Good morning, Gladys.” Finn was making a special effort to sound upbeat. It was a new day and he was determined to put demons, Satan, and goat statues behind him – like it had been a bad dream.
Gladys put down her crossword puzzle and shook her head. “That was terrible what went on out there yesterday – just terrible.”
Finn looked through the folders on his desktop. “I really don’t want to talk about it, Gladys. ”Already, it had become an effort to maintain the upbeat demeanor.
Gladys grunted. “I suppose you wouldn’t want to talk about it. Who would want to talk about being responsible for bringing devil worshippers into the neighborhood.”
There were no more attempts at maintaining pleasantries. “What are you talking about?” Finn snapped.
“Ha!” Gladys scoffed. “It’s the talk of the neighborhood that you and your drunk friend did something to bring those heathens here.”
Finn extended his arms to the side. “OK, Gladys. You tell me. What did we do? Are me and Kevin devil worshippers?”
Gladys shook her head and picked up her puzzle. “I’m not sure exactly what you did, but I don’t know if I should still work here. When I get to those pearly gates, working for you might prevent me from getting my passport stamped – if you know what I mean.”
Finn slammed his hands on his desk and headed toward the office door. “Believe me, Gladys, it’ll break my heart if you quit, but don’t worry, if you get turned away at the pearly gates, I’ll make sure you have a reservation somewhere else.” Finn turned into the stairway, but poked his head back in the doorway. “Somewhere nice and hot – if you know what I mean.”
Finn barged through the heavy pub door, his good mood already ancient history. He hopped up on a stool and called out for Kevin. “The way I feel right now, I’m seriously considering asking you to put something extra in my coffee.”
“What?” Kevin emerged from the basement door, carrying a rack of clean glasses.
Finn waved his arm. “Aw, forget it. Just gimme some coffee – nothing extra.”
Kevin dropped the rack on the end of the bar. “It’ll be a few minutes. I just put it on.”
Finn eyed his friend curiously as Kevin began moving clean glasses from the rack to shelves behind the bar.
“What’s wrong with you?” Finn asked.
“What?” Kevin’s mind seemed preoccupied.
Finn repeated. “I said, what’s wrong with you? No greeting, no snide remarks or witty sayings – nothing.”
Kevin arranged the last of the clean glasses. He leaned his hands on the bar in front of Finn and sighed. “To be honest, I didn’t sleep well last night.”
“What happened?” Finn quipped. “Your mommy didn’t tuck you in.”
Kevin didn’t react to the remark. “I’m serious, Finbar. I’m worried about that devil guy.”
Finn turned on the stool and waved a dismissive hand. “Come on! You can’t be serious. What do you think? That guy is so worked up over the chickens that he is going to stalk us and kill us.”
“He may not have to stalk us himself,” Kevin responded.
“You think that girl or any of those other nuts will do his dirty work. Get a grip.” Kevin stood behind the bar, slowly nodding his head. It took a moment, but finally Finn received the non-verbal message. “Wait a minute, you think that guy can really………”
Kevin cut Finn off. “That’s right. He can send demons after us. You even said so yesterday.”
“Oh my God!” Finn put his head in his hands. “I was just breaking your balls.”
Kevin shook his head. “You tell me I should read more, and that’s what I did last night. I read all about this stuff online and I believe demons are real.”
Finn took a deep breath and looked out the window. He didn’t know what to say. As he stared out to Woodhaven Boulevard, something caught his eye, and his nose. “What’s that smell?” He noticed something in the window that wasn’t usually there. He got off the stool and slowly approached the window. A small round object was hanging from the curtain rod. The smell seemed to be coming from the object.
“It’s garlic,” Kevin volunteered.
“What?” Finn turned toward Kevin.
“That’s right. It was all part of my reading. That guy put the evil eye or something on this pub yesterday, and I read that garlic protects a place.”
“Yeah, from werewolves, you idiot.” Finn shook his head. He couldn’t believe he was actually engaging Kevin in an intelligent conversation on the subject.
“Not quite correct, Finbar,” Kevin countered. “Garlic also protects against vampires and devils.”
“Oh, then by all means, place garlic everywhere,” Finn deadpanned. “ARE YOU NUTS!” he shouted.
“I’m just being cautious,” Kevin calmly responded. He walked to the window and made an adjustment to the string supporting the garlic. “Yes sir, Finbar, you really got us into a jam.”
Finn was beside himself. “I got us into a jam? I got us into a jam? Who gave that creep his home address and place of employment? Not me.”
“Calm yourself, Finbar.” Kevin placed a hot cup of coffee in front of Finn. I have to go back downstairs and get another rack of glasses.
Finn gingerly tested the coffee. He couldn’t believe that less than thirty minutes ago he was in a great mood.
/>
“FINN!!!”
The cry from the basement communicated fear. Finn was off the stool and down the basement steps in a flash, despite the throbbing jolts of pain to his knee. “Kev, where are you?” he bellowed as he came off the stairs.
“Over here!”
Finn looked to the right of the doorway. Kevin had wedged himself into the corner of the room, a look of terror on his face.
“What’s wrong?” Finn exclaimed as he approached his friend.
Kevin was breathing heavily. “There’s someone here!”
Finn wheeled around and scanned the small room. There wasn’t much to it. Bar supplies and boxes of unopened liquor took up most of the space. In one corner, the owner had a small desk and file cabinet – that was it. There was no place to hide. Finn turned back to his friend. “There’s no one here, Kev.”
Kevin was still gasping as he spoke. “I’m telling you – I was leaning over to pick up a rack of glasses, and I felt this breeze, like someone brushing by me – and I saw this shadow.”
“A shadow of a person?”
“I don’t know. Just a shadow.”
Finn motioned for Kevin to follow him. “Come on. Get the glasses and let’s go upstairs. There’s no one here.”
Kevin’s continued heavy breathing concerned Finn. He went behind the bar and grabbed a shot glass and a bottle of Sambuca. “Here,” He extended the shot to Kevin. “It’ll calm you down.” Ten minutes and another shot later, Kevin’s respiration had returned to normal. Finn tried to put his friend’s mind at ease. “That was just your mind playing tricks with you. You’ve always been susceptible to stuff like that.”
“What are you talking about?” Kevin questioned.
“Remember when you swore that there were UFOs over Juniper Park every night one summer, and it turned out to be a guy flying a glow-in-the-dark kite.”
Kevin shrugged. “Anyone could have made that mistake.”
“Just don’t get yourself worked up over this,” Finn continued. “I can assure you that there is no demon in the basement, just as I can assure you that neither Count Dracula or the Wolfman is going to walk into the bar anytime soon.”
“Well, of course they’re not coming here,” Kevin smiled and pointed to the window. “I have the garlic up.”
“That’s it!” Finn slapped the bar and hopped off the stool. “I gotta get out of here!”
“Where are you going? Stay and finish your coffee,” Kevin pled.
“Nope,” Finn stated as he moved toward the door. I have to go to Alley Pond Park and visit that crime scene.”
Chapter 10: Crime Scene
May 18th
For the first five or ten minutes of Finn’s trek into the woods of Alley Pond Park, the trail was wide and civilized. He mused that the city had obviously used his taxes to lay wood-chips and place garbage bins along the route. The trees were so separated by this swathe they cut that he wished he had brought his sunglasses. The brilliant rays were not dappled but shone hotly from above as strong as at any beach without the benefit of a cooling onshore breeze. Very abruptly, however, the environment changed. It was as if the noble efforts of the bureaucrats and their money only reached so far until the woods reasserted itself.
Finn had to pay more attention to his steps as the trail twisted and snaked around the ancient trees. The roots crisscrossed, gnarled and uneven- were as beautiful as any picture book illustration. Finn took in the colors with unshielded eyes and used his hands to grasp nearby branches where the path rose in steep, uneven rocky steps.
Finn stopped and took several deep breaths. The trees had grown so thick there was no undergrowth at all. About his feet were only the browned remnants of branches and needles that had fallen in the recent winds. If there was a path there Finn couldn’t see it. He wound his way through the skinny trunks that grew so tall, racing for their share of the sun's rays. In some places they were so thickly clumped he had to alter his path or risk becoming wedged. Finn took several additional deep breaths. The air now had that smell of woodland before rain. Had the weather changed? He couldn’t tell. Perhaps above the canopy there were now clouds fit to burst. In the darkness of these thick woods, only faint distant drone of cars on the Cross Island Parkway served to remind Finn that this woodland experience was an illusion. He was still in New York City.
The trail became recognizable again, and the sky visible. It was still blue. Without warning, Finn found himself in a circular clearing that was probably fifty feet in diameter. He stopped and checked his map. Finn nodded and looked around the clearing. This was it. This was the crime scene. Now what was he supposed to do? Besides agreeing that this clearing seemed to be a great place for two teens to have sex, or to perform a satanic ritual, he didn’t know what other information he would glean from this expedition. Finn stood in the center of the clearing and scratched his head. The only movement was the occasional bird, startling in the trees or a squirrel dashing up a nearby trunk. Suddenly, there were additional sounds to join the birds and squirrels. The noise was faint at first but grew steadily in intensity. The rustling of brush and leaves became louder and now included the sound of voices. There were people about to enter the clearing.
It seemed clear to Finn that the man and woman entering the clearing were more startled by Finn’s presence than he was by their appearance.
“Oh!” the woman gasped. I never expected to find anyone here.
“It’s alright, dear,” the man reassured. “He looks like a nice young man.”
Finn assumed they were married. They appeared to be around sixty years of age and the time together had melded them into a single unit. In other words, they looked like they belonged together. They were both short and slight of build, and wore khaki hiking outfits and pith helmets. In their attire, Finn would not have been surprised if a Boy Scout troop emerged from the woods behind them.
“Have you found it?” The man asked.
Finn shrugged. “Found what?”
The man became visibly upbeat as he addressed his wife. “He hasn’t found it.”
“Found what?” Finn repeated.
“Are you looking for the tunnel” The man asked.
Finn threw his arms out to the side. “What tunnel? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Well, I must say I glad you’re not looking for it.” The man extended his hand to Finn. “My wife and I have researched lots of New York City records and we think we finally found it.”
Finn accepted the handshake but again repeated, “What are you trying to find?”
The man held up his hand. “Forgive me for being rude.” He swung his arm toward his wife and then back to himself. “Betty and George Hillman.”
“Finn Delaney, nice to meet you. Now what exactly are you looking for?”
“This is our hobby,” George began. “There are many secrets in New York City that no one knows about, and we believe we have found one. Back in the 1930s Alley Pond Park and Cunningham Park extended much further than their current boundaries, and horseback riding was very common. There were bridle paths everywhere in the parks. It was during the thirties that the highway system began coming of age with the Grand Central and Cross Island Parkways cutting right through areas of these parks. Originally, the bridle paths were maintained by creating a series of tunnels so the paths could pass under the highways. During the 1960s horseback riding ended in the parks and the bridle path tunnels were filled in. There has always been a rumor, however, that one of the longer tunnels was just sealed, but not filled in. We think we located the entrance and we’re hoping there is access to get into it so that we can photo and video the inside of the tunnel.”
“That’s very interesting,” Finn commented.
“Yes, it is,” George agreed. He pointed to the trail on the opposite side of the clearing from where Finn had entered. “We believe the entrance is about a quarter mile down that trail, near the Cross Island Parkway.”
Betty joined the conversation. “
Would you like to accompany us, young man?”
“I don’t know,” Finn answered.
“Yes, yes, that’s a great idea,” George blurted. “We could really use another set of eyes if it’s difficult finding the access point.”
Finn sighed and looked around the clearing. Making the hike to the crime scene had proven to be a complete waste of time. He might as well gain something from his trip. “Sure,” he said. “Why not?”
“That’s great,” Betty sang. “We are grateful for your company.”
Finn followed the Hillmans out of the clearing and onto the trail. Almost immediately, the woods thickened again. Slowly but surely the trees thinned, and at the same time the drone from vehicles on the parkway increased. When they completely broke out from the trees, George called out a warning, ”Be careful with your footing.”
Finn was now following the couple along the top of a steep embankment. At the bottom of the winding trail was the retaining wall of the Cross Island Parkway.”
“Dead end!” Finn exclaimed.
“Not necessarily,” George responded. He pointed to something protruding from the ground approximately ten feet from the retaining wall.
Finn eyed the protrusion curiously. It didn’t appear to be pieces of trees or any other natural byproduct of the woodlands. “What is it?” Finn asked.
“It’s a railing,” George replied. “At least it’s a piece of a railing.”
“Railing for what?”
George smiled. “I believe this is a bridle path railing, and if we follow its remnants, it will lead us right to the tunnel.”
Bits of railing were visible every now and then over the next hundred yards. The retaining wall made a bend to the left, and with George leading the group, he was the first to see it. “I think this is it!” There was an air of excitement in his voice.
Finn was looking at a portion of the wall with several concrete blocks missing. George was already peering through the opening in the wall, his excitement growing with each passing second. “This is it,” he exclaimed. “This is the tunnel.”
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