The Wallet

by Roger Rapel

  Another coffee arrived, I then knew I was going to be in the loo every hour for the rest of the day, but I had to get the address and do some research on the place wherever it was. I took a pen out of my pocket then found a scrap piece of paper. I sat poised with pen as I asked him again for the address. Clive looked at me as he narrowed his eye’s again, then he gave me the address. As soon as he uttered the words it sent a shiver down my spine. ‘It’s on the main road out of here, keep going for about two miles then you’ll see a big red painted barn laid back, then about another half mile or so is the house, the post box has the number on, its number 64, but be careful.’ Clive pointed in the direction I should take then reiterated the warning.

  I sat not believing firstly the number, also why hadn’t the police, FBI or the papers linked this address to the other address the one that Christopher had been kept captive in. There were more questions than answers.

  The old timer looked at me as he said ‘just be warned, anyone here will tell you, don’t go there, or you will be sorry.’ Then he checked his watch as he thanked me for the coffee and the pie then he was gone.

  Molly came over to the table as she began to clear the plates, ‘Sorry’ she said ‘I couldn’t help but hear what Clive was saying about that house, just be careful, the word is, it’s haunted. It’s been up for sale for ages, but no will buy it; they never get to the front door. I remember one person who came in here after going to see it, she told me she was frozen from just being sat outside the house, she didn’t even get out of her car, she said she felt the coldness from the house inside her car even with the heater on.’ Then Molly went to serve another customer. I went to the counter and paid my bill as Molly backed up her warning to be careful.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  I followed Clive’s instructions and drove along the main road for about two miles and there as he described was the barn. I stopped the car and got out as I straightened myself then checked my crucifix and splashed holy water over my hands and blessed myself before carrying on.

  I drove the other half mile as told to me by Clive, and there it was, the post box, it looked battered and weather beaten, but I could clearly see the number, the same number I had visited where Christopher had been kept, the same number, number 64. I had a shiver then got out and checked the mail box, then I found a letter addressed to…. Oh god I thought it can’t be surely not? It was addressed to me.

  I opened it, as I read it I could feel I was being watched by something from inside the house. The letter inside said ‘come in and find me, I’m waiting.’ I couldn’t believe it, but it could have been meant for anyone, but with my name on, it made me shiver, the envelope and letter were pristine, looking like it had just been delivered.

  Now my knees were knocking again, my faith was being truly tested. I blessed myself as I got back in the car and turned the heater up full blast. I was so cold the chill had gone right into my bones again. I sat rubbing my hands together trying warm to myself. I couldn’t get warm, so I went for a drive to increase the heat of the engine. I drove for half a mile then went back, and drove along the driveway to the house.

  I sat outside looking at the front door; there was something cold about this place, the same kind of coldness I felt at the other 64. Okay nothing for it as I talked to myself. I reached for the door handle of the car and as I opened it I felt a strange presence enter, it was swirling around me like a thin white veil. I went stone cold frozen not able to move. Then there was whooshing noise and it was gone. I sat and shivered. I looked at my hands they were shaking and blue with the cold, even though the heater had been on full blast I was shivering.

  I was now trying to talk myself-out of going inside, there was no way I wanted to feel the evil that had been there in the other 64. I sat for what seemed like an eternity. Then I said to myself, if you don’t go in, you will always wonder and regret it for the rest of your life; also what was inside could help Christopher.

  I got out of my car and blessed myself again then touched the crucifix. I stood on the porch as the shivers increased. I gazed at the half brick half wooden construction. The curtains were drawn across the windows. The front door had the traditional fly screen in front of it.

  I reached forwards pulling open the fly screen; as I did so the front door seemed to say come in, please come in. The anticipation of what was inside the house was growing, it was like some Hitchcock movie; I could hear the violins screeching in my head as my hand reached for the door handle. My hand was nearly at the handle as the violins had reached a crescendo, I touched the handle as my heart nearly stood still with fright, a blue tinged light raced up my arm. I heard a scream the same scream as before it was one of intense pain that chilled the bones and sent shivers inside me, my hair was standing on end. I was being drawn inside something wanted me; it wanted me inside, whatever wanted me, was pulling me so hard trying to drag me in.

  The door wasn’t locked; I couldn’t stop myself I was being drawn inside. I opened the door which gave a creaking sound; then I stepped inside. My body had been taken over I wasn’t able to resist the force. My mind wasn’t mine, all I could hear was that scream the blood curdling scream as described to me by Christopher. I could feel a presence an evil presence circling me it was like a wolf circling its prey, just waiting for the right moment to strike. Then, oh my god I felt a cold icy hand touch my face, as a vision appeared in front of me, it was a woman, I knew it was a woman, even though the vision wasn’t clear. She smiled at me as she curled a beckoning finger inviting me in. I was being drawn further into the house. The force that had taken me over was so strong so powerful I couldn’t fight it, all my strength had gone. I followed the vision into the kitchen. It was even colder than the hallway. It was like standing in a freezer room. My breath was condensing as I exhaled. The vison moved closer to me, she was now face to face with me as her lips kissed mine, I could feel her tongue probing inside my mouth, as she moved away I breathed-in, then she followed my in-breath entering inside me attaching itself to my breath; whatever evil had been outside was now inside me.

  The next thing I knew I was sat in my car. That is the strangest thing, I can’t remember if I had been in the house or I had dreamt it. I had to get away now I was so scared, whatever the presence was it scared me to death. I started the car and was gone.

  The heater was on full as I drove back to Molly’s Kitchen. It had been a straight road; I passed the barn and knew it was only a couple of miles to go before I arrived, but I couldn’t find it. I wanted the newspaper I had read, I wanted to show it to the police and to Angela; shit I thought, I should have brought it with me. No matter how hard I tried there was no Molly’s kitchen.

  I saw a man in his garden doing some weeding so stopped. ‘Excuse me, I’m trying to find Molly’s kitchen can you help?’ ‘Sure can, but you’re about 10 years too late; it was pulled down after Molly died.’ Fuck it I thought, I then asked him how long he’d been in the locality. ‘Oh all my life, my dad was here all his life too. Yep my dad, he was character, when he passed away, the headstone read’ as he laughed; ‘Clive loved Molly’s blueberry pie.’ You mean your dad was Clive. Sure was, why did you know him. Now if I said yes I was going to sound like some nutter so said, ‘no, but somewhere I heard about Molly’s kitchen and her famous pies.’ ‘Yep she was missed when she passed away then her place closed.’

  I thought shall I ask him or not, oh why not as I talked to myself. ‘I’m looking for a place to buy around here and passed a place a way’s back, not far from the big barn. It looked empty; I just wondered if it was up for sale?’ ‘Don’t think so, the people there moved-on all of a sudden after it was rebuilt, no one knows why; my dad used to say something bad had happened there years ago before it was rebuilt, but he would never say what?’ I thanked him for his time. I looked in my rear view mirror and saw him resting his chin on his hands leaning on his hoe looking at me as I drove away.

  This was ridiculous I was only in Molly’s Kitchen a couple of hou
rs ago and now it wasn’t there anymore, this was Déjà vu, this had happened before, as I recalled the old store which was now a shop, it had been ten years ago when it closed, ten years must be the connection.

  I struggled to remember the name of the newspaper I’d read in Molly’s Kitchen, I had some recollection of the Daily Bugle. I looked in the phone book and found their address.

  I stood outside of the old building, the windows were dirty and grimy; they hadn’t been cleaned for years. I wasn’t sure they were even still operating. I touched the door handle, one of those old ornate brass handles; once it would have been shiny, but now it was tarnished. I tugged the door and it opened. I stepped inside as I heard in the distance the clatter of machinery; this gave me hope as it sounded like the printing press was still running. I saw an entrance to an office which had editor etched into the glass. I knocked the door and walked in.

  Once inside I saw an old man with the archetypal peaked visor on. Without looking up he said ‘make it quick I have a deadline to meet.’ I coughed; then he said ‘doctors down the road, not here.’ I laughed at his comedic response. ‘Sorry to bother you, but I’m looking for a story you ran about 10 years ago about a gruesome murder, not far from the café called Molly’s Kitchen.’ The editor looked up as he smiled ‘well don’t just stand there sit down. You’ve got five minutes and that’s it.’

  I then relayed the story in the briefest way about Christopher and then my visit to Molly’s kitchen and my conversation with Clive. I finished it off with me saying ‘I’m not mad although it sounds like it.’

  The editor, put down his pen, then said ‘come with me.’ I followed him as he went into the next office, the etching on the glass read Reporters. The editor said to the only person inside ‘Marsha, give this guy some time, you might need the key to the archive section as well.’ He took out a bunch of keys and removed one of them handing it over to her. I thanked him and shook his hand.

  I sat down with Marsha as I told the longer version of the story about Christopher, she sat in awe of the story I was unfolding to her, then she put her hand to her mouth when I told her about my visit to Molly’s kitchen.

  Marsha looked at me with a kind but untrusting expression on her face. I said ‘yes I know it sounds like I’m some kind of nutter, but I‘m not, if we could research the archives and find the story it will give some credence to my story?’ ‘Okay come with me, but I can’t give you that long as I have reports to run with deadlines.’ I smiled and nodded as she led the way.

  I looked at her nice figure as she walked slightly ahead of me; although her clothes were dowdy they didn’t hide her hour glass shape. Marsha looked back at me as she smiled saying ‘nearly there.’ I inwardly wished I was. I smiled back at her as I looked at the outdated premises. The walls and floors were dirty. The cobwebs were covered in dust so was everything else.

  I put my hand on a pile of old papers, as I lifted it off my palm it was covered in thick black grime. We were heading for a dingy corner then to a mezzanine floor as we negotiated an old set of stairs. I watched as she climbed the stairs ahead of me with her confident walk emphasising her figure.

  Marsha said ‘here we are; although it looks like there is no system, there is if you know it.’ Then she went through what the system was. ‘Okay this is the domestic and criminal section it’s in half year sections so choose the year and go through it; I’ll be in my office if you need me.’ I’d hoped Marsha would stay for a while, but no joy, she walked back down the stairs her heels click clacking as she went.

  This was going to be some task. I only had a rough idea of about 10 years ago, it could be 9, 10, or even 15 years ago. There was nothing for it, but look in each box, fortunately inside each lid was a brief handwritten description of the content, which made it slightly easier although some papers were filed wrongly which didn’t help.

  It was a dirty and dusty work. I had been searching solidly for about two hours when Marsha brought me a coffee in a styrene cup with the lid on. ‘How are you getting on?’ ‘It is some task, but at least there is a reference in each box top which aids me.’ ‘I didn’t put any sugar in your coffee, as she offered me a sachet.’ ‘No thanks I’m fine.’

  I said to Marsha ‘look I know you don’t know me, but I would love to offer you a bite to eat to thank you for your help.’ ‘Look I’m not dressed for dinner…’ I stopped her mid-sentence as I said ‘just dinner, I’m not dressed either this is just a thank you.’ ‘Okay I finish at six.’ I checked my watch two hours to go. ‘Okay I’m in your hands you choose the venue and we’ll eat just after six.’

  I continued to pull and search box after box, then I came across one that seemed to call to me, my hands hovered over the top as something said this one. I tugged at it as I managed to pull it from the depths of the racking. I opened the box, as I did so I heard a kind of whooshing noise as if something that had been bottled up inside had just escaped.

  I shivered for a moment, I began to feel the trepidation build up inside me as I fully opened the lid. I picked up the reference sheet as I scanned the contents, then I found what I was looking for halfway down the list; murder at lonely old ranch house. I unloaded the papers delving inside then found it, the same paper I had read earlier that day in Molly’s Kitchen, everything was there. I was like a dog with two tails.

  I got up and was just about to leave to go and find Marsha when from inside the box there was a big sigh then silence. The sigh sounded in some way satisfying, a pleasing sigh as if there something to celebrate.

  I made my way to Marsha’s office as I entered she looked up and smiled. I couldn’t get the words out fast enough ‘I’ve found it; I was reading this same story this afternoon.’ I handed the paper to her as she read it with interest. ‘Wow this is some story. You say you’ve been to this house?’ ‘Yes earlier.’ ‘Okay let’s wrap this up and have that dinner.’ I smiled as I looked at my hands. Marsha smiled and said ‘the rest room is across the hall over there,’ pointing to a door opposite.

  I looked in the mirror which was also dirty and grimy as I washed my hands in a dirty sink. The soap was good though, it was scented which hit my nose as I washed my hands and then my face. The roller towel was also clean as I dried my face. I took one last look in the mirror and saw something standing behind me, something dark and evil, I couldn’t see it, but the presence sent those cold chills racing down my spine again. The image behind me was dark and ominous just a black shape. I turned and like falling leaves it was gone in a puff of wind it vanished from whence it came.

  I shuddered as I exited the restroom and brushed myself down. Just before I left I poked my head around the editor’s door and thanked him. Marsha had given him the paper to read. ‘I would like you to come back and see me tomorrow this will make a great story.’ I smiled and nodded as I was joined by Marsha. I shook her hand as she said, ‘my you’re cold come on let’s have that meal.’ The editor took a bundle of dollar bills from his pocket handing them to Marsha and said ‘this on the paper.’ Marsha thanked him as we went in separate cars with Marsha leading.

  We arrived at quite a nice looking restaurant. I parked the car as I looked at the swish exterior. Marsha took me by the arm as she said ‘come on let’s eat I’m starving.’ I felt under dressed for such a place, but Marsha took the lead as she spoke with the owner. He smiled at her in a knowing manner saying ‘of course, our local reporter is always welcome.’ He acknowledged me then led the way to a quiet table for two in an alcove.

  I looked at the surroundings ‘this is a nice place.’ ‘It is one of the best in the area and very popular, but because we’re early we have got a table without booking. The paper does bring a lot of business here too, both with me and also by recommendation.’ I smiled at her as we looked at the menu.

  The menu card was white with gold inlay on the front, also when opened the selection of food was in gold writing. The prices matched the opulence of the surroundings. I was glad the editor had palmed Marsha for the meal
.

  I looked at Marsha and said ‘what’s the best choice?’ ‘Well it’s all good, but my favourite is their mixed grill.’ ‘That sounds good to me, two of those then.’ The waiter came and took our order as Marsha ordered the wine.

  We sat and chatted about everything, but always returning to the reason I was there. Marsha was really easy to chat with, she had a broad range of subjects to call on and like most reporters could chatter till the cows came home; she could also ask searching questions.

  The wine arrived as I was given the taster to sample; it was good, I nodded to the waiter who then poured the wine into our glasses. ‘Nice wine Marsha, really nice.’ ‘Yes it’s my favourite when I eat here.’

  The conversation went back to my visit to Molly’s kitchen. ‘You know I had this happen to me before when I was researching what my friend Christopher had told me. I had gone into a store where I spoke to the owner and when I went back to find it later and do some more research, it wasn’t there, it was now some other modern shop. When I asked someone about the store, they told me it hadn’t been there for a long time. It sounds crazy and you must think I am some nutter, but I’m not.’

  The dinner arrived, Marsha had been right it was a massive platter of mixed meat with a baked potato and sour cream. We thanked the waiter then I laughed ‘wow this is some spread.’ ‘It sure is you won’t need to eat for a week after this.’

  Marsha looked at me as she said ‘no I don’t think you’re a nutter, a little confused maybe but not a nutter. If I had thought you were a nutter I wouldn’t be here now.’ I smiled as I cut into my steak it was cooked to my liking, just right; the other meat was tender and succulent as well.

  We continued talking and laughing. Marsha was one easy woman to talk to; we were getting on like a house on fire. The meal finished we looked at each other as we patted our stomachs at the same time, we were both full to the brim. The sweet menu arrived as we both burst out laughing shaking our heads, but thanking the waiter who also smiled knowing what we meant. We accepted coffee with an after dinner mint and a liqueur.