The Wallet

by Roger Rapel

  I decided to go back to 64, I had to find the truth behind the address there was something I was missing, something that was staring me in the face, but what was it?

  Then I mentally retraced my thoughts to my meetings with the realtor then the bank manager; neither of them wanted to give any information. Then I remembered as I sat shivering about being in 66, when I felt I was being dragged through the dividing wall by something evil inside number 64; I had never been so afraid as I was at that moment in time; then running out as fast as I could, but why were the houses next door to 64 so cold, why?

  No matter how hard I tried to unravel the mystery nothing came forward. I had to go back and revisit 64 and break-in, I had to go back, whatever evil was inside held the key to unravelling the story.

  I shivered at the thought, but the driving force inside me made me go. I sat behind the wheel of my car as my fingers gripped the wheel, my knuckles whitened under the tension, should I go? I sat with trepidation running through my veins as I shivered and shook.

  Then I looked in my sports bag I took out the bottle of holy water and dowsed myself with a good splash, then put the crucifix around my neck. I wasn’t religious, but anything to help would do, I blessed myself for the umpteenth time. God please protect me I said to myself as I started the engine then drove in the direction of the house.

  I then had an idea to speak with the employers where Christopher was a manager first. But no matter where I tried I couldn’t find the distribution company, so I gave up. I even looked in the yellow pages of the phone book, but there was nothing to match the description given by Christopher.

  It was starting to get late as I drove towards the street, I stopped outside 64, it was the same as it was before, all boarded up nothing had changed; both houses either side were still up for sale. I sat in my car physically shaking with fear; the hairs were standing up on the back of my neck as I shivered.

  Come on, as I spoke with myself, get a grip. I opened the door as I made sure the crucifix was still around my neck. Blessing myself again I walked towards the steps leading to the door of number 64. I stood looking at the door my knees were physically knocking together as I looked at the steps, there were only three. But the enormity of climbing those steps was so immense; it might as well have been a hundred steps rather than three.

  All of a sudden I felt a chill running down my spine I became frozen to the spot, I couldn’t move no matter how hard I tried my feet wouldn’t react to my commands. I was literally like a block of ice. It was as if someone had run a stake through my head to the ground, I was rooted to the spot.

  Even my vision was fixed onto the door, I couldn’t move my head from side to side, what was happening to me; please oh god let me get out of here. Then I thought I heard a scream, it sounded like the scream as explained by Christopher, or at least how he had described it.

  If I wasn’t chilled enough that scream reached into my soul, it was a pained scream. It can’t be, get a grip; I can’t be hearing the same scream, the house has been boarded up for so long.

  Then as if by invitation I heard a cry so loud and terrifying ‘please help me!’ Then all of a sudden my feet became free and my head was able to move from side to side. Then as if by automatic movement I was climbing the three steps. As I reached the top step a cold blast of wind rushed past me like an arctic wind cutting into me, like a sword reaching deep down into my soul.

  I was now standing on the top step looking at the door, whatever was inside was calling to me; I could feel myself being drawn towards the door. I could feel the evil from inside come outside like a sheet of mist enveloping me inviting me to go in, saying ‘come inside, you will then know.’

  I have never been so frightened in all my life, I was shivering with fear, but something was drawing me in; I wanted to pull back and run, but something had me in its grasp. I couldn’t see whatever it was, but I could certainly feel it. Then like cigarette smoke something light blue came from the door and went into mouth, I couldn’t close my mouth in time, whatever it was had gone deep inside me like a vapour.

  Then the door opened as I was beckoned in by a force I couldn’t see, I had to enter. Oh my god I thought as I clutched the crucifix in both my hands. Then I heard the scream again it was blood curdling. I looked in the direction of the scream as the kitchen door opened, I was drawn inside I didn’t want to go, but the force whatever it was, was dragging me like I was in chains. The kitchen was cold; oh my god so cold, freezing, nothing like I had ever felt before.

  I stood in the middle of the kitchen I could feel a presence; it was looking at me from somewhere reaching out, touching my soul. I couldn’t speak I was frozen to the spot. Then I saw something move in the shadow of the kitchen, it stirred and drifted as if on a breath of air, I strained my eyes to see, but I couldn’t make it out, whatever it was, it wasn’t of this world. Then as if by command it opened its eyes; what it was I don’t know, but I saw for the first time blood red eyes tinged with yellow, it breathed out, the breath was condensing as it hit the cold air, I took a sharp breath in, the being took hold of my breath and went into my mouth I couldn’t stop it, whatever it was wanted to get inside me, I was being taken over; I was sure I was being entered by something evil.

  I tried to move, but it held me in an invisible grip my whole body was now shaking as the force of the being was entering me, the mist of its breath was getting stronger as it went further inside me. Then all of a sudden I was back outside of the front door.

  I couldn’t work out if I had been inside or not, all I knew, I was still frozen, then all of a sudden I could move, I was rushing back to my car. I sat inside and dowsed myself with holy water again. I felt exhausted as I drove home then had a hot bath then went to bed.

  My night was full of fear as I returned in my dreams to the house seeing those eyes and feeling the vapour entering inside me making my hairs freeze and stand up.

  I had to try and find some kind information on what had occurred in 64? Was it as described by Christopher or was he covering up, or was he the killer? Why hadn’t the police found Camilla and the other woman? There were so many questions that needed to be answered.

  CHAPTER TEN

  I went back to talk with Christopher after a few days, but something inside me never had the same enthusiasm as before, whatever it was, I was being held me back from the task, but what Christopher told me next really chilled me to the bone; after that I never saw him again.

  During my last visit I pleaded with Christopher to tell me what happened next? We recapped for a couple of minutes then he started. ‘I was held in the police station for some time then interviewed by a team of detectives and a psychiatrist and was considered unfit to enter a plea; I was according to them mentally insane.’

  The police told him the only person they found in the house was the woman strapped to the trolley; no Camilla or her friend just the woman on the trolley. That was it he said, ‘my head was going around in circles, I had hit Camilla so hard she would have been out of it all day, so would have the other woman, I had hit both of them with my knuckles so hard with all my strength.’

  Christopher then said ‘I had asked the detectives who lived at the address of 64, but they wouldn’t answer me they just kept on at me trying to get me to confess to cutting up that poor woman on the trolley. I tried and tried to get them to look for Camilla Brown; she must have a record or something but they refused.’

  He even told them about the bank cards in the wallet, one of them was an Amex card, they will have her record; they could trace her using the card information. ‘Damn it I was doing their job for them, but they wouldn’t listen or didn’t seem to care about the truth, they had their killer and could close the case with me being the only suspect the only one, the one who was guilty in their eyes and I would never stand trial and tell my side of the story.’

  Christopher told me he kept asking why Helga hadn’t been to see him he said ‘I had pleaded with them to let me see her she would help
me. I just kept pleading for them to bring her to me; she wouldn’t let them treat me like this.’

  Christopher rubbed his eyes with heels of his hands then said ‘I couldn’t understand why Helga hadn’t been to see me and why were they preventing her from coming. I kept on at them for days and days pleading with them to let me see her, but then I was told something that turned me upside down. The police said they had broken into my house, Helga was dead she had been eaten by something or someone; she had the same injuries as the woman on the trolley.’

  Christopher then burst out crying ‘I didn’t want to believe them, they were lying. Helga wasn’t dead, she couldn’t be dead; they told me she was pregnant, her womb had been cut open and the tiny foetus had been eaten. I was then blamed for her murder as well. I couldn’t think straight, who would want to kill my Helga, my beautiful Helga and our baby. I was becoming deranged; can you imagine how I felt?’

  Then it struck him as he said ‘Camilla must have recovered from the punch, she had gone to my house and killed Helga. I then remembered I had given Camilla the phone number and address where we lived.’

  Christopher was deeply shocked as he looked at me with tears cascading down his cheeks, his head was now swimming as anger and rage built up inside him; ‘I was ready to break out and find Camilla to prove my innocence. The detectives could see I was ready to blow so pinned me down and handcuffed me.’

  Christopher was then transferred to a secure mental hospital indefinitely. He was given injections to keep him sedated and placid. All he kept doing was pleading his innocence.

  He continued ‘one day was like the next I was given a cocktail of drugs and injections. I just sat starring at the white walls of my room; it was more like a cell than a room. Everything was screwed down or fixed so it couldn’t be moved; I was given paper plates and plastic cutlery to eat with. All I did all day was stare at the white walls; but the walls were my TV screen, I could see pictures; the vision of my Helga and the good times we had, the fun and making love; just being happy together, it was my only release. But I also saw Camilla and the graphic scenes of my poor Helga being cut up and being eaten alive.’

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  I kept my appointment with Angela. I was full of trepidation as I rang her bell, the intercom operated as someone said ‘hello’ I confirmed my name and appointment time; the buzzer sounded as I pushed open the door. Once inside there was an arrow with Angela’s name on pointing to the stairs. I climbed to the first floor where I was met by Angela’s secretary. She welcomed me in offering coffee and a seat. I accepted a coffee which was warming and nicely flavoured.

  The buzzer sounded on the secretary’s desk; I was then invited into Angela’s office as the secretary opened the internal office door; there I saw a stunning dark haired woman; she stood up as she placed her phone down then walked to my side of the desk as she shook my hand. ‘Welcome’ she said ‘please take a seat.’

  Angela was nothing like I had imagined, she had a luscious figure to match her looks. What I was expecting I didn’t know, but in my imagination I had some tweed suited woman with horn rimmed glasses. But, I was pleasantly pleased to be talking with Angela; although my thoughts would have to be controlled as my eyes were wandering over her body.

  Then Angela returned to her side of the desk where she sat then smiled. I looked around and saw the archetypal deep red Chesterfield couch with matching arm chair; which features in all the movies, the one where the client relaxes outstretched as the psychiatrist sits in the arm chair.

  ‘Now then, how may I help you?’ Angela said, I then explained the story as Christopher had told me; although I had left out some of the not so important sections so I could get it all in during my allotted time of an hour.

  Angela listened intently and made notes as I told the story. When I had finished, she looked at me and said ‘wow that is some story. Tell me what do you want from me?’ ‘I want Christopher to be proven innocent and for you to examine him then tell the authorities in your opinion he is telling the truth if you think he is.’ ‘That is a big task and I’m afraid to say it will be very expensive as there is a lot of research and interview time, but none of that can be assessed until I have had a consultation with Christopher. Give me his details and where he is being kept then I will arrange to visit him; afterwards I will give you my opinion if I can, but I can’t promise anything.’ She smiled at me showing her perfectly straight and whitened teeth. It was only then that I saw her brilliant blue eyes that had a natural sparkle to them.

  I pulled away from her smile and blue eyes as I acknowledged her honesty and business-like approach. I then wrote down the details of where Christopher was being kept, but also informed her that the police were not happy about anyone trying to prove his innocence, because with him being locked-up it closed their file on the murder, the fact that Camilla was out there somewhere didn’t seem to matter to them.

  I also informed her that I had a hard time originally tracking him down, as the police had moved him a number of times and were reluctant to give his current location, but in the end they did.

  Angela thanked me then I left her office as she handed me her business card. I wanted to go straight home and write the notes of the meeting with Angela, but decided to take a break and have a coffee and just relax. Although I never realised it all the time I had spent with Christopher and the research I had undertaken was taking its toll on me.

  I found one of those old fashioned country café’s whilst driving home. It looked like a wooden shack. The sign just said ‘Molly’s kitchen, cooking like it used to be.’ There were a few cars parked outside, mainly trucks and some old beat up Chevy’s. I went in, it was like any place with country people in; everyone looked at the stranger who walked in, but then got on with their chattering.

  There was a rotund woman behind the counter who must have been Molly, she beamed a smile as she said ‘welcome what’ll it be, I have some freshly baked blueberry pie; you can have it topped with cream or ice cream or perhaps something cooked?’ ‘Coffee and some of your pie with cream please ma’am.’ One of the old timers wearing a dirty old grey bib and brace overall, which he had probably worn for the best part of his adult life was sat near the counter, he said ‘good choice son, she makes the best pie around these parts.’ He gave a chuckled laugh showing the only few teeth he had left in his head. I nodded and smiled at him; then I took a seat at a vacant table and picked up a discarded newspaper and began to read the headlines skipping through some of the inner pages.

  The coffee and pie arrived; it was a good sized portion with thick cream drizzled over it. I thanked the woman as she smiled saying ‘my pleasure, enjoy.’ I sipped the coffee then picked up the fork as I sliced a section of the pie. I could see the old timer looking at me waiting, anticipating me tasting the pie and my reaction. It was like I was on trial just waiting for the verdict. I took a bite of the pie, there was no doubt about it when the pastry and the filling hit my taste buds it was really good; I closed my eyes and savoured the taste as it excited my palate.

  The old timer was now on the edge of his seat waiting for my response, I didn’t want to disappoint him, I nodded my approval and smiled, after I had swallowed I said ‘you were right the best pie.’ The old timer laughed as he waved his hand above his head ‘another satisfied customer Molly!’

  I continued reading the paper having folded it over to make it easier to read and eat at the same time. The coffee was good, as soon as I had finished a refill came without asking. It was at that point that I began reading a story that made my bones shiver. I looked up not believing what I had just read; I turned to the front page to check where the paper was printed and the date. The paper was local, it was yesterday’s. I then went back to the story.

  I read avidly the story of a man who was in prison for the murder of a woman, he had eaten her alive, then chopped her head off. He had pleaded insanity, but was now on death row waiting for the final appeal for clemency, but the papers already ha
d him convicted, albeit he pleaded his innocence at the trial he was convicted. The article just mentioned his innocent plea stating that he had been kept captive and it was a woman had fed him the victim; he had unknowingly eaten what she had given him

  I looked at the old timer and invited him to join me. I asked him if he would like a coffee and some pie. He looked at me and smiled as he sat down, he nodded saying I’ve already had one slice, but could always make room for another. I smiled as I raised my hand to Molly ordering two more slices of pie and another coffee.

  The old timer shook my hand as he said ‘my names Clive, you’re not from round these parts are you?’ ‘No Clive I’m not, but nice to meet you. Look I was just reading this article in the paper?’ I showed him the section I was reading. Clive shivered as he said ‘that poor woman being eaten alive, what evil could do that, he deserves to die.’ ‘Tell me where did it happen was it around here?’

  The pie and coffee arrived as Molly then said ‘you watch your diet Clive!’ Clive smiled and nodded as he said to me ‘she looks after my health’ as he laughed then he started telling me about his history and how he had lived around the area all his life, he had never gone beyond the borders of Ohio. We had both finished our pies and coffee before he finally returned to the article in the paper; there was no point in trying to rush him. I was new blood to him; he was able to tell his stories to me without contradiction or interruptions.

  His eyes went tight as he scrunched them up then said ‘word has it that he was the devil himself, many have tried to enter the place where it happened, but none had got passed the front door. I have heard stories of lights and screams from the place which puts the fear of god into people around here.’ ‘Where is this place?’ ‘You can’t go there son, its evil, anyone who had been there is never the same again, be warned just drive by, don’t go in please don’t go in that place.’ Clive’s voice had become fearful his eyes narrowed and his lips went tight as he talked.