The Last Ritual

by S. A. Sidor

  Nina and I carried Freddie and Winston over to the ditch where we’d rolled the log. We lowered the men into a trough of soft snow and covered them with pine boughs. Our conclusion was that whoever disposed of Clark in the cave had also killed Freddie and Winston. They were freshly deceased, their blood still warm when it ran from their terrible wounds through our fingers.

  “Were they guarding the camp?” Nina asked.

  “If they were, then whoever murdered them did it prior to our arrival. Freddie and Winston would’ve recognized us on the road. If we drove past their guard posts, they certainly would’ve caught up with us at the camp.” I wiped Freddie’s blood off my hands on the rag I’d brought for the Colt. Nina did the same. We threw the rag into the ditch.

  Back home at the Colony apartments, I reconsidered calling the police. I’d leave an anonymous tip about the bodies in the woods and the cadaver inside the Black Cave. I picked up the phone.

  Nina grabbed my hand. She convinced me not to call.

  “Half the force is on the O’Bannion family’s payroll. News will reach them eventually. When the boys don’t report back, the bootlegging crew will check the camp. They’ll find the bodies.”

  “I don’t know. We hid them pretty well.”

  “They’ll notice the log missing and look in the ditch. Trust me, Alden. The O’Bannion gang takes care of their own. No one’s calling the cops. Not us, anyway.”

  She was worried about the police again. My call wouldn’t help the dead.

  Nina poured two whiskies and handed me one. “It’s for the best. You don’t want Freddie and Winston buried in some Potter’s Field owned by the city of Arkham, do you?”

  “I guess not.” I polished off my drink, feeling it burn all the way down.

  Nina played with her glass, rolling it between her palms. “Listen. I’ve been thinking. Clark’s murder fits with the others. It matches the pattern. He’s from the elite class, and that’s who’s being targeted. If the murders are rituals, maybe they’re leading up to something bigger. First, they send out a call. To what? We don’t know yet. Then the rites offer a kind of protection to the ones doing the killing. It can’t be just one person doing it, either. It’s too complicated. All those murders… physically it must be a group behind them. For whatever reason, this group attracts a spirit or entity, sends out a signal. If the entity is pleased, it bestows power on the offeror.”

  “I like what you’re saying, except Freddie and Winston weren’t elites. Freddie was a farm boy. They were… ordinary.”

  Nina exhaled and shook her head. “Their deaths weren’t sacrificial. They were killed because they got in the way. The method wasn’t ceremonial. They were simply dispatched. The only signal being sent was to you and me. Like that message on the cave wall.”

  “You think these men were killed because they helped us?”

  “I’m afraid so.” She looked sad but not defeated.

  “It makes me sick to think it’s my fault.” It tore me up thinking those two guys had their throats cut over me. Dead in a cold ditch. If I hadn’t snooped around, they’d be alive.

  “You can’t blame yourself.”

  “But I do.” I finished my drink. “What about Calvin? Think he’s alive?”

  “I hope so. We have no reason to believe he’s dead. In danger? Certainly.”

  So, in the end we didn’t call the police. I saw no story of the killings in the city papers. As far as we knew, the dead men were still out there on the dirt road, under the pines.

  •••

  I was in my apartment a few days later when someone knocked on my door. Nina and I had made a habit of locking our apartments. But we had keys to each other’s places. Nina never knocked. I knew it couldn’t be her. Besides, she was out tracking down a lead on the dancing Galinka sisters act and who hired them to work at the Clover Club. Nina thought maybe that’s how they were selected to be sacrificed. She took the Rolls, which I hadn’t bothered to return.

  I lifted the Colt off my dresser, holding it behind my back as I answered the door. I opened it a crack and was surprised to see Minnie’s cat eyes blinking at me.

  “Hiya there, Alden. May I come in?”

  I stepped back, tucking the gun into the small of my back. Pulling out my shirt, I hoped she wouldn’t notice the pistol.

  “Funny seeing you here. Shouldn’t you be out planning a wedding?”

  Minnie walked in, in a rush. She threw off her hat and dropped her purse on my sofa, and then plopped herself there too. With a smooth scissor move, she slipped off both her shoes, pointing her silk-stockinged toes at the rug and flexing her tight calves while letting out a deep, exhausted-sounding moan. “Oh, Aldie, I’m so worried I don’t know what to do. I didn’t know who else to come to. Because if you can’t help, I don’t know where I’ll go. Insane, probably. It’s all too much. I can’t take it. I absolutely can’t, not like this.”

  She started crying. Not big heaving sobs, but shiny, bubbly tears like glass beads rolling down her cheeks. Her dimpled chin quivered.

  “Minnie, dear, what’s got you so upset? It can’t be all that terrible, can it?”

  Minnie looked at me, and her eyes flooded.

  I sat beside her. She draped her arms around me. Her breath smelled of peppermints.

  “I think Preston’s in real trouble,” she said. “We both are.”

  I was alarmed but didn’t want her to see that. “I’ve known Preston a long time. Longer than I’ve known you. He’s gotten into plenty of pickles. But I haven’t seen one yet that he can’t wriggle out of. Usually smelling like a prize rose.”

  I rubbed her back.

  She scooted closer. Her forehead brushed my cheek. I felt her laughing. Not happy but laughing. That’s a start, I figured. “Tell me what he’s done.”

  Minnie sat back. But her face stayed near to mine. The last time we were this close we were lovers, I thought. My heart tripped faster. I tried easing back and ran into the stiff arm of the couch. My gun did, anyway. So I moved up again.

  “Ever got in your head that somebody you love has changed?” she said.

  “That’s why we broke up. Isn’t it?”

  “I don’t mean that. I mean that the person you knew checked out, and somebody, a stranger, checked in. Preston is not himself. He looks like Preston. It sounds like his voice. But he’s different. I can’t explain it exactly how I want. He’s Preston, but he’s not Preston, too.”

  “I’m lost here, Minnie.” I didn’t want to dismiss her concerns. I’d noticed Preston changing too. A man under pressure, I thought. Slowly cracking. I’d chalked it up to wedding jitters. It sounded worse than that. “He hasn’t called the wedding off, has he?”

  “Called it off? No. He’s actually moved it up! To March! Oh, I know he’s hiding something from me. That’s nothing new. We lie to each other. Small things, the way all couples do. I’m not talking about that.” She wore poinsettia red lipstick, dark and artificial, but it looked good on her, a dramatic contrast to her complexion.

  “He mentioned pushing up the date to me. But I thought that was a mutual decision?”

  “It was. It is.” Minnie seemed a woman bombarded by thoughts and emotions. “I’m not against getting married earlier than we planned. I love him. I think he loves me. It’s just such a total turnaround. If anything, I would’ve guessed Preston wanted to delay the wedding. He was anxious. He told me so. Now it’s just the opposite. He’ll only say he wants us together sooner. But where did that idea come from? It’s not like him. Preston puts things off. His father is the restless one. Lately, it’s as if a stranger were wearing Preston’s body as a disguise. The way he moves. The expressions on his face. They’re off kilter.” Minnie squeezed her tiny hands into tinier fists. “Oh, it’s so frustrating. You think I’m crazy. A crazy woman who complains about her new man to her old man…”


  “I’m your old man?”

  She punched me lightly in the chest, right over my heart. “You know what I mean.”

  Minnie left her hand there. Her fingers spread and pressed against my shirt. She felt my heart pounding. How could she miss it? I held her wrist, gently moving her hand away.

  “Men often don’t know how to express their feelings. Might it be simple as that?”

  “Don’t you think women get nervous too? Is he the right man? Is this it?”

  An idea dawned on me. “Are you having second thoughts, Minnie?”

  She waited a few beats, thinking it over. “No,” she said, with finality. “Preston and I are perfectly matched. Only, I want him back the way he was. Do you know what I think it is?”

  “What?”

  “It’s not a what but a who.” Minnie dipped her chin and aimed a lacquered nail at me.

  “Who then?”

  “Juan Hugo! He’s the one that’s changed him. The man’s practically taken over our lives. He would’ve if I didn’t stop him. Preston is under the man’s spell. Worse than another woman.”

  “But Balthazarr spends all his time at the Colony. I’ve never seen Preston there.” I was surprised to hear her mention the Surrealist’s name. If Preston existed at one remove from New Colony, then Minnie was at least two away. How was a visiting painter having any impact whatsoever on her relationship?

  “That’s just it!” Minnie jumped from the sofa. “Is it always so dreadfully chilly in your rooms?”

  “I hadn’t noticed.”

  “Don’t you have a bottle we can open?”

  I frowned, confused. “Of alcohol?”

  Minnie put her hands on her shapely hips. “Alden. I want a drink.”

  “Why didn’t you just ask?”

  “I just did. Give me a cigarette, sweetie. I’m going through difficulties.”

  I handed her my case and lighter and went to fetch a bottle of whiskey.

  “God!” I heard her calling out. “Men are so literal. And they can be frightfully dull.”

  I returned with the bottle, handed it off to her, and went in search of glasses.

  “Where is Preston off to constantly? I’ll tell you. It’s Balthazarr. Balthazarr at the Lodge with Carl Sanford and his pops for brandies. ‘I’m out for a drive with Juan Hugo, love’. We’re the two getting married. He needs to think about us. Our event. Especially if everything is happening sooner than we planned.”

  I guided Minnie back to the sofa. She snuggled against me.

  “You’re saying Balthazarr is influencing Preston in a negative way…”

  “Yes, he is.” I noticed Minnie’s perfume. Loud and citrusy when it first touched the nose, then settling back into a warm blue vanilla scent. Elegant, sad. Silk sheets and hours alone. I wondered how life would turn out for her.

  “Care to elaborate?” Without thinking, I saw my hand stroking her bare forearm, the light fuzz rising from my attention, an appearance of goosebumps. I noticed I had them too.

  Minnie relaxed; her shoulders drooped like a hypnotist’s volunteer.

  “Preston moved the wedding because of him. He won’t admit it. But I know that’s the cause. He’s got me to shift the party over to the Silver Gate Hotel.”

  “Balthazarr suggested that? Preston told me you were thinking about it the morning Juan Hugo arrived. Oh now, see there, he couldn’t have put the idea into Preston’s head.”

  “Well, I don’t know how he did it. But he did. Like a Houdini trick or something…”

  I was the one having doubts now. About Preston and Balthazarr. Was Preston under the man’s influence to a degree I had not perceived? I felt a fool for missing it if it was true.

  “Having the wedding at the Silver Gate will be so terrific,” Minnie continued, unaware of my mental reevaluations. “I’m not complaining about the quality of things. Preston keeps telling me how bright our future is becoming with each new day.”

  The winter sun broke from the clouds and shone white on the floor of my apartment.

  We watched it like our ancestors watched their fires. Mesmerized. Seeking meaning.

  “He said that? Here I always thought you two had a bright future together.”

  “Me too…” Minnie topped off her glass. “It’s like he’s suddenly gotten a vision, or something, about not only the wedding. But about everything. As if he’s made an investment and the payoff is coming in bigger than he expected. He sounds like one of those creepy old schemers. It’s not that bad, really. Only… there’s something else attached to it. A secret. A double event that he’s not letting me in on. Saying it out loud sounds crazier than when it’s murmuring on in my head.”

  Dread, when it arrives, is like a falling inward. I was falling now. My two friends…

  Minnie curled against me. I felt a kind of exposure then; involuntary fear crept over me like sickness. I was afraid to touch her. Yet I did and said nothing about it.

  “Is Preston in some sort of secret society?” I asked, shifting my inquiry.

  Minnie lifted her head to look at me. “The Silver Lodge? That’s more his father’s thing.”

  “What about here at New Colony? Has he said anything curious related to that?”

  Minnie blinked. I could tell she was reviewing conversations past. “I don’t think so.”

  “I only ask because Juan Hugo is the big cheese at the Colony. People worship him. Hell, I do too. It’s almost cult-like, the following he has.” I gazed at the bright sun scouring the wooden boards. “He does these mock rituals. Stagecraft, I thought. A bit of showmanship. But in front of the right crowd the effects are entrancing. Preston might find he’s charmed. Afterward he acts as though he’s still under the influence of Balthazarr, his Master, so to speak.” I did my best not to introduce to Minnie any of the panic that was growing inside me.

  Minnie had enough worries.

  She sat heavily against me; her eyes fluttered. I took her glass. When she spoke, the edges of her words were rounded off and softly slurred. “When we’re alone together, Preston is not Preston. He smiles at me like he’s pulled some awful trick. Like inside, he hates me.”

  “That sounds awful.” I cared for Minnie. But in that moment, I wanted to flee.

  “Tomorrow is Preston’s bachelor party,” Minnie said.

  “I know. I’m going.”

  “Balthazarr is his new best man. Did Preston tell you? It was supposed to be Clark, but Clark has vanished. His family hired a private detective. They think he might be dead.” Her head tipped back. Eyes closed.

  My throat rippled. I could not speak.

  “Be careful when you’re out with them, Alden. I have the most awful premonition that something ghastly is going to happen and ruin all our lives.”

  Minnie started to snore.

  The clouds hid the sun. The floor, the apartment and everything in it grayed out.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Hours later, I woke up alone in the dark on the sofa. Minnie was gone. I heard noises in the hall, a kind of scuffling, and two voices, tensed and rising in volume. I couldn’t make out the words. After a moment of disorientation, I shook myself awake and lurched for the door, hoping Nina hadn’t caught Minnie slipping out, still a little drunk and looking guilty as hell of something.

  Nina was there.

  But she wasn’t arguing with Minnie.

  The other person was a man I didn’t recognize, dressed in pinstripes and a snapped down fedora. “Mind your own business, pal,” he said to me. I smelled his whiskey breath, and his eyes were pink from drinking and smoking in illicit establishments. The bulge under his arm was hard to miss. But when he grabbed Nina’s elbow, jerking her away from her door, I had no choice.

  “She is my business,” I said.

  I decked him.

  He was slow from over-
indulging, or I got lucky, because I caught him right on the knockout button. The tough guy collapsed in a heap. I took away his weapon, and as I did, his eyelids fluttered. I hammered him with the pistol grip, sending him back to hoodlum dreamland.

  “Did he hurt you?”

  “Just what you saw,” Nina said. “I told him I appreciated being escorted home, but our night was over. He didn’t like that. I could’ve handled him. But thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  I couldn’t help but notice Nina was dressed for an evening of entertainment. She’d done herself up flapper style. Sequins and beaded fringe; her silks rustled when she moved. Her feet looked like she stepped in black tar and then dipped them in a sack of gold dust. She wore a feathery bandeau and enough pearls around her neck that any pearl diver finding her might retire. This wasn’t Nina’s usual look. She’d made a point of getting herself noticed tonight, and I guess it worked. “I tried to lose him at the door. He pushed his way in.”

  “What should we do with him?”

  I decided to roll him downstairs. Out the front door. Then I dragged him by the heels across the lawn to the street where I dumped him in the gutter. “That poor suit!” I said to myself as I lit a smoke.

  “Amigo! What are you doing outside with no jacket?”

  Balthazarr crossed the street diagonally toward me. He wore a long black overcoat, and if he hadn’t said anything, I never would’ve noticed him blending into the shadows.

  “Taking out the trash.”

  Nina watched us from the doorway to the mansion. When she saw Balthazarr, she hurried down the steps to join us. “A guest overstayed his welcome.”

  “Rudeness is a crime I cannot forgive.” Balthazarr asked us for a detailed account of what transpired. Nina told him. He acted impressed by my decisive action.

  “It’s all over,” I said.

  “I think not.” Balthazarr picked up the goon and threw him over his shoulder.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Teaching a lesson in manly behavior.”

  Balthazarr marched through the Colony mansion’s snowy side yard and out to the back. I was freezing in my shirtsleeves, but I went with him. Nina had never taken off her coat and she trailed after us, negotiating the icy grass in her gold-heeled pumps.