by Len Norman
It was Thanksgiving and she was grateful to be with her family. Her husband thought of the turkey and dressing and her children were appreciative for time away from school. Theresa cooked the turkey and set the table, her husband was listening to a football game on the radio and dinner wouldn’t be ready for at least an hour. The Detroit Lions were hosting the New York Yanks at Briggs Stadium. Lions quarterback Bobby Layne had just scored a touchdown on a one-yard keeper and about the time Doak Walker kicked the extra point, Theresa walked out the kitchen door.
She used her time wisely and went to the garage and got the hose that she’d purchased from the hardware store earlier that week. She hooked the hose to the muffler and placed the other end of it through the rear window, when she started the car she thought of her family and her friends at work. She thought of poor Dr. Drake and her last passing thought was that damned baby. How she wished he would have been stillborn. She hated that baby.
******
Evelyn was as unhappy as anyone could be and her thoughts about life and death had changed; she was good to go. The nightly dreams about car accidents were an omen and she died in every one. Evelyn lived alone and her parents lived in upstate New York. She visited them every weekend unless she was working. They were elderly and she spent as much time with them as possible. This Christmas they would go to Mass and then spend the day together, just the three of them. She found herself going through the motions of Christmas and the usual preparations, but she no longer cared. As a devout catholic she suspected it was wrong to question her faith. Evelyn knew the sin of suicide was a sure-fire ticket straight to hell. She didn’t care, because that was exactly what she wanted most.
On the way to her parents’ house it was no surprise to her that she accelerated on Highway 221 when the sign by the curve warned everyone to slow down to twenty-five miles an hour. Evelyn was going sixty when her Chevy left the road and catapulted over the guard rail to a fiery crash a hundred feet below. When the car was airborne, Evelyn thought of nothing, she couldn’t help looking in the rearview mirror. She was actually smiling.
The REAL People and the First Deal
1954
Richard and Meredith were intimidated by Harley. He wasn’t at all like other four year olds. Harley required little sleep and was reading at the same level as a high school student. There were no standardized IQ tests for children under the age of ten, which was just as well; they would have been shocked. Harley’s IQ was 173; thirteen points higher than Albert Einstein’s.
Meredith told her friends, “Harley remembers events and things you wouldn’t even notice; he has a really good memory for places and details.” What Meredith never told her friends or Richard was how Harley frightened her. She actually trembled sometimes when he looked at her.
It never occurred to Harley that he was mad as a hatter; he was clever enough to keep things to himself. Like his father’s favorite deck of playing cards. They had two baseball players on the back of each playing card as well as two large circles with baseballs inside each circle. A single baseball was between two baseball bats. Harley spent hours looking at the cards; he was sure they were very important. Time would tell.
By year’s end it occurred to Harley that the number of cards in that special deck he pilfered from his father were all he needed. He was cagey and ingenious when it came to self-preservation. Harley had an epiphany of sorts. He was certain there were only fifty-two other people in the entire world that were like him...REAL people! All of the others were nothing more than props in a stage play. They mattered little to him as none of the others could harm him; if he wanted to survive it was imperative that the other fifty-two REAL people had to go.
His immediate concern was his parents. He had to be careful, at least for a few more years. He was getting older and learning. He was very adaptable. It had already occurred to him that his parents were REAL people...two of the only fifty-two REAL people that existed. He knew they could mess him up, so he placed them on his short list. Harley was as patient as he was clever. Their turn would come soon enough. He beamed from ear to ear.
In 1954 the average cost of a new house was $10,250 and Richard could have written a check for a thousand such homes. Business was picking up. The Dow Jones recovered back to the pre-Wall Street Crash high of 381 points. For all of their millions, Richard and Meredith would soon realize how little money mattered.
Richard and Meredith eventually agreed Harley was very different. Meredith thought about the possibility of Harley seeing a doctor. Surely there must be professional help for him. Even Audrey Leck had said things to her about Harley. A few months before Harley was even born, Audrey was hired as a nanny. As Harley’s caregiver, she’d seen things even Richard and Meredith wouldn’t believe. Many of those things petrified her and kept her up at night.
Earlier that year Harley was playing in the living room. The Ames had a little puppy named Brewster. Harley was teasing Brewster and the puppy nipped at him. Harley went into his father’s office and brought back a letter opener from his father’s desk. He coaxed the puppy with a dog treat and Brewster forgot all about the teasing, but Harley hadn’t forgotten about the nipping. After Brewster ate his dog treat he began to prance and jump and clearly wanted to play with young master Harley. The letter opener was immediately driven into one of Brewster’s eye sockets. Before Audrey could intervene, Harley had stabbed the little puppy several times as he screamed, “Not real. Not real like me at all. You are NOT real!”
Richard and Meredith had been travelling abroad when Brewster met his demise. When Audrey explained the puppy was dead she kept it simple, fearing she would get in trouble leaving Harley alone long enough to retrieve the letter opener. The official story was poor Brewster got away on one of their walks and was hit by a car; she also told them it would probably be a good idea to wait on another pet. According to Audrey, Harley cried himself to sleep for the next three nights.
In truth, Harley slept better than he had in months, he was well rid of something that only ate, pooped, and nipped at him that one time. He was delighted to free himself of the puppy that wasn’t even real.
Richard wouldn’t think of allowing Harley to be treated by someone that specialized in things like child psychiatry, rather, he’d be allowed to grow out of his phase. He was three years old and besides, Meredith was expecting a second child. A brother or sister would set Harley straight, or so Richard thought.
Clifford Richard Ames entered the world on a spring day in New York and the streets were filled with dirty snow. He was normal in every way. Clifford was born into privilege and he had no way of knowing the shit storm that awaited him at home.
Richard and Meredith loved Clifford in ways they couldn’t imagine, he was as wonderful as Harley was not and ordinary in every way. Poor Clifford never had a chance. Harley had his number the day he came home from the hospital, even Audrey fawned over the infant. This was a child she would love to care for, unlike his older malevolent brother. Audrey would soon be put in her place.
Clifford was in his nursery and Harley slipped in for a visit. It was a warm day in August when he realized Clifford was one of the fifty-two REAL people that existed. Standing on a stool next to the crib and watching Clifford laying on his back and looking at a giraffe mobile was all it took. Harley whispered, “You want to get rid of me like the others? The other REAL people? You think I don’t know? I know plenty! I think it’s time you take a really long nap. Sleep well, Clifford.”
Harley crawled into the crib and grabbed a pillow that lay close by. He held the pillow and looked at the baby. The infant was smiling at him when the pillow was magically placed over his head. Harley held it there for a very long time, gently against Clifford’s beautiful face. When Harley placed the pillow where he had found it, Clifford looked like a sleeping angel.
A few months after the funeral, Richard boxed up all of Clifford’s toys and clothes to give to charity. There were a few books as well; books that Richard and Meredith had read to him. Inside
one of those books was a playing card. It was the Two of Clubs. That card wouldn’t mean a thing to the lucky family that received Clifford’s worldly possessions, but it meant everything to Harley. The Two of Clubs was from his father’s favorite deck of playing cards. They were the same cards that had two baseball players on the back of each playing card as well as two large circles with baseballs inside of each circle.
Harley wasn’t even four and he’d already found one of the REAL people that could harm him. He’d taken his first human life and was jubilant; getting rid of Clifford was a lot more fun than dispatching Brewster. At night Harley dreamed and wondered about the other REAL people, fifty-one more of them! The best part was two of them lived under his roof, and they were next. Harley slept with a smile on his face.
Audrey stayed on with the Ames family for the remainder of 1954. She was terrified of Harley and believed he might have been involved in Clifford’s death. When she went to check on Clifford he appeared to be sleeping. When it was apparent he was dead she was devastated.
After the funeral it became evident the Ames family would never be the same. It was assumed Clifford died of “crib death,” which was so infrequent in the pre-vaccination era it wasn’t even mentioned in statistics. Crib death started to climb in the 1950s with the spread of mass vaccinations. It wasn’t Audrey’s place to mention the possibility of an autopsy. Meredith was already half out of her mind with grief and the thought of Clifford having an autopsy was simply out of the question. This was clearly a crib death and nothing more.
If an autopsy had been performed would anyone have suspected three-year-old Harley? That would’ve been highly doubtful and Harley would’ve been in a position to do some blame shifting of his own. Hadn’t he seen Audrey tuck Clifford in his crib for a nap? Hadn’t he seen her holding Clifford’s pillow and looking down at his baby brother? In many ways the lack of an autopsy was a lifesaver for her.
******
By the end of 1955, Richard threw all of his energy into the banking business and Meredith was deeply depressed. She didn’t respond to normal therapy and medication. Eventually Richard insisted on electroshock therapy or shock treatments. Hundreds of thousands of patients of all ages received electroshock treatments for every type of “disorder,” including depression, mania, schizophrenia, and even homosexuality and truancy. Richard was assured Meredith would be as good as new. Patients in the 1950s sometimes received more than a hundred treatments. Anesthetics and muscle relaxants weren’t used; patients were shackled to the gurney but there were still broken bones and vertebra.
When Meredith was released from the hospital she was a vacant-eyed soul who had trouble distinguishing friends and family.
Harley was five and his mother refused to look at him. He could have cared less. One day he walked up to his mother and said, “Mommy, I think for you hope is the thing with wings that is never meant to be. When I look at you, I see the card.” Harley took the Three of Clubs out from behind his back and showed it to Meredith.
“Do you like it Mommy? Do you? Very soon it’ll be over.”
Meredith never blinked but Harley couldn’t help but notice she was drooling and there was a dark stain on the fabric of the chair that she was sitting in. The odor of urine disgusted Harley almost as much as his mother sickened him.
“A playing card for you and a playing card for daddy. He’ll get the Four of Clubs and after that I’ll move on.”
Richard had found what he thought might be a suitable replacement for Audrey. This was after she finally approached him and told him things about Harley; things Richard absolutely refused to believe. She told him about Harley’s mean streak and how he had taunted Brewster.
“Mr. Ames, Harley isn’t normal, there’s something wrong with him. I think he wants to hurt other living things, all living things. He frightens me.”
Audrey was immediately given a month’s severance pay and a stern warning if she ever repeated such nonsense again he would make her sorry.
One of Richards’s business associates knew someone that would be able to run the Ames household. Abigail Carrier had teaching experience as well as a degree in nursing. Harley liked Abigail as much as he could possibly like anyone, she played games with him and read to him and didn’t strike him as one of the REAL people that wanted to harm him. She was kind and gentle to Meredith. All things were good in the Ames residence. Abigail had arrived.
Harley attended a private school after it was decided public schools were simply not for him. It was clear to everyone that he was a very special student. He excelled at everything. Other children avoided him and he even intimidated his teachers. How could he not—he was smarter than those who were tasked with educating him. Harley knew things his teachers would never comprehend.
Private school was a little better but only because Harley understood the situation. It was time for him to dumb down and let the others think he was actually learning things; it would take the pressure off him. He figured if he could hold on for a little longer the immediate threat could be dealt with: Mrs. Three of Clubs and her husband, Mr. Four of Clubs. Harley even made friends at Orchard Hall, a highly prestigious private school in upstate New York.
Richard Nixon and the Three of Clubs
1957
Harley was seven years old. The year before, President Dwight Eisenhower and Vice President Richard Nixon nearly ran the tables on their Democratic opponents Adlai Stevenson and Estes Kefauver. What were those seven crazy southern states even thinking…who votes against a war hero? Certainly not Harley’s dad Richard. He even contributed to the president’s reelection efforts; he donated a lot!
Even Abigail voted for Ike. She only did so because Mamie Eisenhower was dubbed as “Hostess in Chief” and that appealed to Abigail. It was even rumored that Mamie sent birthday cards and gifts to the White House domestic staff. Mamie efficiently ran the household just like Abigail ran the Ames household.
Harley understood politics and world issues on all levels but was very careful not to share his views; he figured just about anyone could play golf and win wars, so being president probably wasn’t all that hard. He was more taken with the Vice President. When he looked in Nixon’s eyes he saw things that others didn’t. Evil things. Harley thought a Nixon presidency might be entertaining, at least for him if nothing else.
He only returned home for some weekends and the usual holiday breaks and summer vacation. It was clear to Abigail and even Richard that Harley was changing; he seemed a little different, a little more normal. Richard was certain Harley had grown out of whatever it was that made him seem unusual. Abigail would always be cautious. Meredith no longer thought of Harley as her son; she did think of Clifford nearly every day. There were times when the Three of Clubs came to mind, but she wasn’t sure exactly why.
The Ames apartment was decorated by Abigail for Christmas and it was delightful to look at. She made sure there were two Christmas trees, and both were stunning. Christmas cards were taped around the large archway in the living room. Most of the cards were from Richard’s business associates. Elvis Presley was singing, “I’ll be Home for Christmas” on the radio. The tree had plenty of presents under it and Santa hadn’t even arrived yet.
Harley of course had no belief in Santa or much else. It was December 21, 1957, and Harley would soon enjoy his eighth Christmas. This was the year he decided to give himself a gift.
Abigail was picking up a few things they’d need for the annual Christmas party. She promised Meredith she wouldn’t be very long and assured her that Harley was in his room reading. The day was unusually warm and Abigail had left a few of the windows partially open to take advantage of a mild breeze.
Harley walked out of his room as soon as Abigail left. He went to the dining room and opened the window all the way and said, “Mother, you should come and see this, it’s so beautiful-they’re having a Christmas parade in front of our house.” Meredith went to the window but didn’t see anything. “Bend down a little and l
ook closer, this is my best Christmas ever.” Meredith was a little curious and when she bent down and looked out the window, Harley pushed her as hard as he could.
As Meredith free-falled the entire twelve stories, she thought of the Three of Clubs. Then she hit the ground. She was dead only ten seconds when the playing card fluttered out the window and into the breeze. The card landed thirty feet from Meredith in the gutter and it was face down, just like her.
Harley was elated and he squealed with delight, “Ha! Only fifty more to go.” He noticed a crowd gathering and the rest was easy. He ran down the stairs and ran screaming toward his mother’s body. “Mommy, why did you jump? Mommy, are you alright?” Harley was still screaming and carrying on when Abigail returned with a few sacks of groceries. She held him close and tried to console him.
By now the police were on hand and taking statements. Several witnesses told the officer how they heard she’d jumped. Richard and Abigail eventually gave a statement as to how Meredith had a history of depression and other medical problems. Richard was shocked by what his wife had done, he never thought Meredith would end up a suicide, but in retrospect he realized he had simply missed the signs.
The funeral was well attended and the priest even allowed Meredith a catholic burial. It didn’t matter much to Richard either way, but he didn’t care for the way the priest alluded to the belief that all suicides were hellbound. Richard wrote the priest a check for the parish building fund and nothing more was said.
Abigail did all she could to console Harley. She told him that his mother was in heaven with his baby brother. Harley was sort of hoping they were both in hell with Mr. Splitfoot, if that place even existed. Something Harley never bought into was the concept of heaven and hell. His focus was more immediate—the other fifty.
They were still out to get him; he was sure of it. He made certain the deck of playing cards was in his suit jacket during the funeral and burial. Even better, the Four of Clubs was right on top.
