by Jeff Strand
But he hadn't gone for the razor. He was sitting against the bathtub, his eyes vacant. "Why can't you leave me alone?" he asked.
"I'm sorry if I'm inconveniencing you," I said. "I know what a pain it is when somebody shows up uninvited and exposes you for the twisted deviant that you are."
"You just don't understand."
"No, I don't, and thank God for that. But here's your chance to redeem yourself. I need names. Besides Michael Ashcraft, who is involved in making the tapes?"
Mr. Tandy shrugged.
"Look, man, if you don't want your face plastered all over the front page of tomorrow's newspaper, you'll answer my questions. Now who's involved?"
"It was his wife," Mr. Tandy said."And some other guy."
"What other guy?"
"He never told me his name."
"What did he look like?"
"Sort of creepy.Old guy.Big white beard."
Great.The Apparition.No help at all.
"Who else?"
"Nobody else."
"You're lying. There's somebody else working for Ghoulish Delights that you haven't told me about."
Mr. Tandy's voice abruptly switched from a pained whisper to a shout. "What do you think, they took me around and introduced me toeveryone?I don't know who you're talking about! All I did was order the tape. That's all."
"Where'd they get the girl?"
He lowered his voice again. "I don't know! All they said was that they take people who won't be missed. Maybe she was homeless. I didn't ask. Why are you asking me all this stuff instead of bugging Michael Ashcraft? He's the one you should be talking to! I didn't do anything!"
I noticed Mrs. Tandy standing in the hallway, staring at us as her hands shook. I shut the bathroom door in her face.
"I don't care what you did or didn't do," I told Mr. Tandy. "You're the one I'm talking to."
"But Idon'tknow anything!"
"How did you find out about Ghoulish Delights?"
"The Internet.A chat room."
"Must've been some chat," I said with a dry chuckle.
"Hey, you don't know anything about me! You have no right to stand here acting all haughty and arrogant!"
"I'm going to make two points. One, `haughty' and `arrogant' mean the same thing. Two, because of you an innocent woman was tortured to death. I don't need to know anything about you to figure out that there's something seriously wrong with you."
Mr. Tandy buried his face in his hands and began sobbing. His shoulders shook, his head bobbed, and after a couple of minutes of trying to calm him down I had to accept that I wasn't going to get anything out of him.
I opened the bathroom door. Mrs. Tandy stood there, her face pale and tight. "Please, tell me what's going on."
I ignored her and walked toward the front door. I knew the secret behind Ghoulish Delights now, but I couldn't see how this was supposed to help me find the hidden clues in the video.
As I stepped outside, I saw an envelope taped to the passenger door of my car. Forget searching for leads and interviewing suspects...I needed to just stay in my damn car all day!
I hurried over to the car, glanced around to catch a glimpse of the delivery person I knew would be nowhere in sight, then ripped open the envelope. It felt like it contained several pieces of paper. I have to admit, I was feeling pretty darn uncomfortable hanging around here, and I really didn't know what Mr. Tandy might be capable of, so I got in my car and sped off.
I drove out of the neighborhood and pulled into the parking lot of a small library, then carefully opened the envelope and removed its contents.
Five pieces of notebook paper.
One Trojan-brand condom.Ribbed.
I didn't even want to know what the condom was for yet, so I looked over the first piece of paper. In crayon, in a child's scrawl, was the following letter:
"DearGramma , I miss you.Arizona is fun. Momsed that I could have all the soda I want during the trip. I love you.XOXOXO. Love, Amy."
The next letter was similar:
"DearGramma , I miss you. Its hothear but I stilllik it. We will be back soon. I love you.XOXOXO. Love, Amy."
There were three more letters, all toGramma from Amy, allto basically the same effect.
Five letters and a condom.And somehow this was supposed to tie in with the tape.
I held open the envelope and looked inside to make sure I hadn't missed anything. And I had. A message written on the inside of the envelope read: "One after the creation of the other."
Huh?
I tore open the foil wrapper to make sure there was nothing else of importance hidden inside the condom. As I removed the condom and examined it, a woman walking past the car with an armload of books noticed me and picked up her pace. Looked like a normal condom. The kind I no longer had to wear ever since the birth of Kyle, when Helen decided that our child quota had been met and it was time for me to get a...but that's bringing up a horrible memory I don't want to discuss.
I unrolled the condom completely just in case the killer had written some sort of message on it, but no, it still looked like your standard-issue prophylactic. Wow, these things were huge when you unrolled them all the way.
Satisfied that this condom was in fact a regular condom, I rolled it back up as well as I could and stuffed it back into the wrapper. I returned all of the parts of the clue to the envelope, and began to drive home.
One after the creation of the other.
Wasn't the whole purpose of a condomtoprevent creation? So "creation" had to refer to the letters.
A condom after the creation of the letters.
WasArizona the important part? Or maybe it was the misspelled words, such as "sed" and "lik."
One after the creation of the other.
I was completely baffled.
Then my heart rate doubled as I saw the red and blue lights flashing in my rear-view mirror.
Chapter 18
OH, THIS was bad. This was really bad.
I glanced around quickly and saw that there were no other cars near me. The flashing lights on that police car were meant forme, and me only.
What was I supposed to do? If the killer or one of his flunkies was watching and saw me talking to a cop, that might blow the whole deal. Even if they were listening in somehow and I didn't say anything suspicious, they'd probably assume I'd relayed a message some other way.
I briefly considered flooring the gas pedal and testing my car chase skills, but quickly decided that would be a bad idea. If I got caught, I'd be taken in to the station, and then the prisoners would be doomed for certain. Besides, the officer had probably already noted my license plate number.
Wonderful.Just wonderful.
I pulled over to the side of the road and killed the engine. I looked up in the rear-view mirror and ran a hand through my hair. God, I looked terrible. The combination of big-time stress and lack of sleep gave me the appearance of an intoxicated zombie. Bloodshot eyes, bruises, rumpled clothes...I looked like somebody that any local cop would want to throw out of his town.
I rolled down my window as the officer approached. Naturally, he was tall, had a muscular build, and facial features that looked carved out of stone. Naturally, he had an expression that said "I've had a lousy day and I'm in the mood to stomp somebody."
Naturally, I patted my jeans and realized that with all the distractions this morning, I'd forgotten to bring my wallet.
The officer stopped at the door and leaned down toward the window. He had to lean a long way. "May I see your license, registration, and proof of insurance, please?"
"Yes, sir," I said, opening the glove compartment. I thought about how interesting it would be if another hand dropped out, but there was only the usual assortment of receipts, useless papers, and various junk so jam-packed in there that it took a full two minutes to locate my registration and the auto insurance card.
I handed it over. "I'm sorry, but I left in a hurry and forgot my wallet at home."
"Did you, n
ow?"
"Yes. I can tell you right where it is on the kitchen counter, if that helps." I tried to smile.
"That won't be necessary." The officer looked me over carefully. "Do you know why I pulled you over?"
"No, sir."
"When you made that left turn after leaving the library, you failed to signal. That's very dangerous to other drivers, who cannot be expected to anticipate your moves."
"Oh, that's right. I'm sorry. I'm just tired, I guess."
"Perhaps if you're that tired you shouldn't be driving at all. Some rest would probably do you good."
I nodded. "I was on my way home."
"I see. Returning some overdue library books, were you?"
"Yes."
"I see. Please wait here in your car."
The officer walked back to the squad car and got inside, presumably to check on my registration and insurance information. I wiped my sweaty hands off on my jeans and tried to breathe calmly. If I played it cool, everything might work out fine. The killer might not even be watching.
I nervously drummed my fingers on the steering wheel.
A few minutes later, the officer returned. "Are you Mr. Andrew Mayhem?"
"Yes, sir."
"And this is your car?"
"Yes, sir."
"Do you have any sort of picture I.D. on you?"
"No, I don't."
"Mind telling me how you got those bruises?"
The bruises?Well, you see, after digging up this guy who turned out to not really be dead, some psychopath hit me in the head with a chain and then tied me to a chair and punched me a couple of times. Yes, I know, it seemed a bit odd to me at the time,too .
"Two-by-four," I said. "My friend was carrying one on his shoulder when he spun around to look at something.Bashed me in the face."
"You should tell your friend to be more careful."
"Oh, I did, believe me."
"That's the whole problem.Idon'tbelieve you."
"Sir, I realize how bad I look," I said. "It's been a really rough couple of days. And I'm sorry I don't have my driver's license with me—things have just been so hectic that I forgot it. I don't know what I need to do to convince you that I am Andrew Mayhem and this is my car, but tell me what it is and I'll do it."
"Are you attempting to bribe me?"
"What? No! I don't even have my wallet!"
"I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to come with me to the station until somebody can verify your identity."
"That's not necessary, I'll—"
"Don't you tell me what is and what isn'tnecessary. I'm not completely convinced thatthisis your automobile, sir."
"When you checked my registration, was it reported stolen?"
"That's none of your business. Please step out of the car."
"I can't do that."
"Step out of the car immediately or you will be placed under arrest."
"Look, it's crucial that you listen to me. You can't take me in! Five...no, four people will die if you do!"
At this, the officer drew his revolver from its holster. "Place your hands on the steering wheel where I can see them."
I did so. "I'mnotgoing to kill them, there's somebody else! I don't know who it is, but if you take me in, he'll do it!"
The officer opened the door. "Step out of the vehicle," he said, pointing the gun at me."Right now."
"Please, you have to—"
"NOW!"
I unfastened my seat belt and got out of the car.
"Put your hands flat on the vehicle and keep your legs apart."
I did as I was told. The officer frisked me, and then snapped a pair of handcuffs on me. He grabbed me by the shirt collar and began to lead me toward the squad car.
"Wait!" I protested. "There's an envelope on the car seat! I need it!"
"It will still be there when you pick up the car from impound. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."
"You have to listen to me!"
"Quiet! You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney..."
I QUICKLY figured out that the officer wasn't interested in anything I had to say, so I kept my mouth shut during the drive to the police station.
Well, I'd screwed things up pretty thoroughly. If the prisoners weren't dead already, they soon would be. And I didn't even want to think about how much trouble I was personally in.
If this all blew over, I was getting myself a real job.Nine to five. I'd even wear a tie. I might wear a wacky one with cartoon characters once in a while, but damn it, I'd wear a tie.
I went through the booking procedure, got a couple of photos taken (at least with a mug shot I knew I wouldn't have my usual will-you-hurry-up-and-take-the-damn-picture-already smile), and was fingerprinted.
"Listen to me," I told the officer who was doing my fingerprints. He was a younger guy, barely looked old enough to be a college student. "I absolutely have to talk to somebody right away. I don't care who...any cop you've got is fine. But I cannot stress enough how vital it is that I explain what's going on. Some people will be killed. Maybe they already have been. Do you understand?"
"I'll see what I can do," he said, leading me over to a very tidy desk upon which rested a telephone. "You get one phone call, but make it quick."
I dialed my home number. "Hello?" said Kyle.
"Kyle, this is Daddy. Could you put Roger on the phone?"
"He's not here."
"What do you mean, he's not there?"
"He's in the bathroom."
"Knock on the door and tell him it's important, okay?"
"`Kay."
There was aloudthump in my ear and I flinched.
"Daddy?"
"Yes, Kyle?"
"The phone fell. I'll go get Roger."
A moment later Roger got on the line."Andrew, what's up?"
"I've been arrested."
"Are you serious? You're kidding, right?"
"No. I'm at the police station."
"Aw, shit!"
"I need you to come down here and prove that I'm really Andrew Mayhem. Grab my wallet off the counter. Helen's keys are hanging up in the kitchen, you can take her car."
"All right.Did you find out anything when you went to that place?"
"I found what I was supposed to, but I don't have any idea what it means, yet. Before you come to the station, I need you to drive to theSouthview branch of the library. My car is parked a couple blocks away...I don't remember the street, but it's a left turn after you pull out of the parking lot. I've got a spare car key hanging on the hook next to the refrigerator, so you can use that to get inside and grab the envelope that's on the seat. You have to hurry because they'll be sending a tow truck to take it away."
"No problem.Anything else?"
"Yeah, bring the tape. But don't show yourself outside with it. Have Theresa carry herbookbag , and put it in there."
"The other tape's still at my place. Should I get it?"
"No. They might be watching your house."
"Okay. We'll be there as soon as possible."
"Thanks,buddy."
I hung up. When I turned around, the young officer was standing there with a pair of black cops. They were both about forty, heavyset, bald, had thick mustaches, and were identical twins.
"These are SergeantsFrenkle andFrenkle . They'll hear what you have to say."
I'D NEVER been in a real interrogation room before, and this one looked just like those I'd seen in the movies. A long table, uncomfortable chairs, bright white lights, everything.
I told them the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Except that I left out the people's names.
Now, I could have waited for Roger to show up with my I.D., convinced them that I was merely some tired driver who forgot to signal, and then left. But if the killer knew I'd been arrested, he'd naturally assume that I'd spilled my guts, whether I really did or not. So if I was going to be penalized anyway, I
decided I might as well talk to them. It's not like I'd been able to figure things out all by myself. Might as well let them have a shot.
