Help Wanted

by David Bergantino

  "I never said…"

  "Let me finish. I have big problems right now. I feel like some guy in a movie, framed for crimes he didn't commit. And you wanna talk about exes? Try dealing with Rayne, who won't leave me alone. She thinks I'm just going through a 'phase' and will come crawling back on my hands and knees any minute. The way I feel right now, if I came back to her, I'd be carrying a big ax."

  "You don't mean that, Doug."

  "Yeah, well, I'm a vandal, why not a murderer?" he said cryptically, and hung up. He didn't answer when Laura called back seconds later. Within the hour, Doug's mother answered the phone to say he had gone to work at the pool. Laura thanked her and hung up.

  She was no longer angry at Doug.

  Now she was worried.

  * * *

  That evening, Laura stayed home to watch a rented movie on video while Shelby went off with her "friends." It was great that Shelby was developing her own social life.

  * * *

  Long after Laura gave up waiting for Shelby to return home, over at the Big Game Burger, Rayne Wilcox was humming a pleasant little tune as she closed down the restaurant for the night.

  Rayne was on cloud nine this particular evening. Everything was going along smoothly, way beyond her expectations. A deep rift was forming between Doug and Laura, and when he finally accepted that Laura was an impossible goal, he would come running back to her. And she only had herself to thank.

  Well, Buck, too.

  Cleaning up around the grill, Rayne noticed the fry cook's watch lying at the edge. She shook her head. That Billy. He'd forget his head if it weren't permanently attached. He'd be back for it, though. As usual, he'd sneak through the unlocked back door, retrieve what he'd forgotten, and leave without a word. It happened all the time. Bill was always so embarrassed about it.

  Dork, Rayne thought.

  Ah yes, Buck. Rayne had pegged him for an ally the first time she had laid eyes on him at the party. His possessiveness was obvious, even though he and Laura had just met. He had been very receptive to Rayne's warnings about Doug and Laura. And even more receptive to her plan to split the two apart. Rayne wanted to get her man, and Buck wanted Laura with equal passion.

  It was Buck's willingness to do almost anything to get what he wanted that surprised — and pleased — Rayne. He had even caught the roach she had slipped into Laura's hamburger, presenting the bug to Rayne as if it were an offering to a goddess. On her orders, Buck had followed Laura and Doug to the Appleby mansion. Her suggestion that Buck trash his own car had initially been a joke. But Buck had later driven all the way back to the work site to retrieve the paint. Ruining his car, he argued, was so crazy that no one would suspect him.

  Crazy.

  The boy must be nuts, Rayne thought. Or nuts in love. Whatever the case, Rayne admired Buck's industriousness. Sure, she had slipped the roach in the burger, and left a few hang-ups on Laura's answering machine for effect, but Buck was doing the real work. If Doug weren't around, Buck would make a good pet boyfriend. I'll just continue to use him until I get what I want, Rayne thought. Then he's bye-bye. Hopefully he'll get what he wants at the same time, and all will be well. If not, that would be his problem.

  Rayne hoped he never found out how she really felt.

  The back door of the Big Game Burger opened and shut with a greasy squeak. Rayne barely looked up. Billy had returned for his watch.

  Nearly finished closing up the restaurant, Rayne went to the fryer to perform her nightly ritual. She took a single frozen French fry and dropped it in the grease that had been deep-frying food all day. The oil was still hot and bubbled the moment the fry dropped into it. To Rayne, it looked like a million tiny piranhas devouring the fry. Mesmerized, she stared into the boiling little pool, until the fry turned from white, to light brown, to dark brown, and finally became a blackened, crispy thing.

  Rayne smiled.

  Just then, a hand grasped her shoulder tightly and spun her around. Rayne shrieked.

  "Jeez, you scared me!" she whined at the intruder. "What do you want?" She got no answer. The hand still grasped her shoulder tightly. She tried to shrug off the hand, which was now beginning to hurt. "Ow! What's your problem?"

  "You," was the answer Rayne received. And it was the last word she ever heard.

  In a blur of speed, the intruder spun Rayne back around. She was facing the deep fryer now. The intruder's other hand shot up and pushed against the back of her head. Rayne's face was being forced down — toward the hot grease. She struggled against the force that was pushing her closer and closer to the smelly, boiling oil. Her hands flailed helplessly. She was unable to scream. Even a foot away, her face began to burn.

  The tip of her nose touched the oil and began to sizzle immediately. The pain was intense and concentrated on a small area. Now, suddenly, she was able to scream. But it was too late.

  Rayne's entire head was suddenly plunged into the boiling grease. Her last sensation was of being stung in the face by a million, billion wasps.

  The hand held Rayne in the grease until her struggling ceased. When she was let go, Rayne's body slumped backwards and onto the floor.

  Her face had become a blackened, crispy thing.

  Chapter 12

  Correction.

  Summer did not die immediately with Allison Heath. Instead, Allison's murder was but one spasm in the ultimate, painful death of the season. Rayne's murder was another, even more violent spasm.

  Laura unfolded the front page of the newspaper she retrieved from the front porch. It blared:

  HELP WANTED: DEATH FOUND

  "Oh my God!" Laura cried when she read Rayne's name. She forgot about the weird headline and started reading, absorbing the hideous story sentence by ghastly sentence.

  The phone rang. Her eyes still glued to the paper, she reached for the receiver.

  "I guess this isn't the best day for the pool, huh?" Buck had seen the article as well.

  "What?" Laura said, in a daze. "Oh. No it isn't, is it? I don't know what else to do, though. I need to be around people."

  "We'll go, then," Buck agreed, and hung up. Transfixed as she read, Laura found herself listening to a dial tone before she hung up.

  According to the article, Rayne's body — they didn't describe how she had died — was found by a fry cook around 2:00 a.m. when he returned to get a watch he had left behind. The police had held him as a suspect initially, but later released him.

  Then came the real shock: The police had found, scrawled in blood on the counter above the victim, the words help wanted. Laura looked back at the headline and almost fainted. The article stated that the same two words had been written on the mirror beside Allison Heath's body at the mall, but the police had succeeded in keeping it out of the papers. Now everyone knew. Laura was breathless.

  She ran upstairs to wake up Shelby.

  Shelby was as mortified as Laura when she heard the news. Sitting up in bed, Laura noticed that she looked pale.

  "I think that cold is coming back," Shelby said when she noticed her sister studying her. "I'm gonna bow out on the pool thing. But you should go. No use in both of us stewing in our own juices."

  "You sure?" Laura would stay if her sister wanted her to.

  "Go ahead. Summer's not over yet." Shelby smiled. "No matter what they say."

  * * *

  Buck's bright beach towel and colorful swim trunks were in stark contrast to his mood as he climbed in Laura's car. It took him a few moments to notice that Shelby was missing. After Laura told him she was sick, he lapsed back into silence.

  "You seem worse than you were this morning, and you barely knew Rayne," Laura pointed out.

  Buck shifted listlessly in the passenger seat. "Actually, she was the only other person who was nice to me."

  Laura recalled how Rayne had seemed to adopt Buck at Doug's party. No wonder he was so blue.

  "I called the hospital this morning," he said suddenly. "Apparently the blood used to write those words was W
arner Holbert's."

  "You mean, they still haven't found him?" Laura asked.

  "No," Buck said. "It seems he's the prime suspect. But the police aren't saying anything to the press because they're afraid of being laughed out of town."

  "Why?"

  "Their theory is that Holbert got out of the hospital, was brain-damaged or something, and is going around killing kids responsible for the car accident."

  "But it was his fault," Laura pointed out. "He had the heart attack that caused the wreck."

  "I know, but he's brain-damaged now, or so the police think. And he writes 'Help Wanted' in his own blood because of his job."

  "As a headhunter," Laura mused. "But if that's true, then we're in trouble. Us, Shelby, Doug — and Chester, too." The scenario seemed impossible. "It can't be. I'm sure the police don't really believe that. It's ridiculous." Laura was suddenly aware she was trying to convince herself, not Buck. She was scared. Timidly she continued. "I don't believe it. You don't, do you, Buck?"

  "Not at all," Buck answered. "But the police? They're searching the Thompson house."

  "Why there?"

  "If you were a crazed child killer, where would you hide out?"

  * * *

  By the time they arrived at the pool, Laura was convinced they were making a mistake. But at the same time, she felt like there was no turning back. As they walked across the parking lot, Laura made Buck promise to behave.

  "If he's here," Laura said, "he probably won't cause trouble because he'll be working. But I don't want you to give him any excuses, okay?"

  "I won't lift a finger," Buck promised. "Unless, of course, he starts something."

  Laura looked him over carefully. "He better not. Same goes for you, too. Okay?"

  "Deal!"

  The poolside itself held two surprises. For one, Chester was nowhere to be seen. Even more surprising was Doug's presence. She had tried calling him earlier, but his line had been busy. Now he sat slouched at the top of his lifeguard chair.

  "Now, there's your murderer," Buck said under his breath before he could stop himself. Laura looked at him sharply. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

  But she wasn't angry. He had just reminded her of what Doug had said last night about Rayne. "It's all right. What makes you say that, though?"

  "I told you. I have a sense about him."

  "That hardly makes him a murderer."

  "True," Buck conceded. "But I've been thinking about my car. Maybe it was him, not Chester. He hasn't been too friendly, and I bet it's because he sees me as a threat to his relationship with you." He waited for Laura to deny his words. She didn't. "As for the murders," he continued, "that cut on his finger sent up a big red flag in my brain."

  Laura glanced quickly over to Doug. His finger was no longer bandaged. Doug saw her looking. His eyes were dead. Laura turned away. "I saw it, too," she told Buck.

  "Let's just say I'm surprised the police haven't tested his blood yet."

  Laura could say nothing, but she was thinking the same thing.

  Then her thoughts were abruptly interrupted as Buck suddenly was jolted away toward the pool. He landed with a painful belly flop. Out of breath, he thrashed about in the water.

  Laura glared at Chester who stood at the pool's edge, smug and laughing.

  "Sorry about that," Chester called to Buck. "I guess I tripped and got thrown really off balance. I didn't mean to knock into you." He leaned over and reached for Buck's hand.

  "Chester, don't…"

  He ignored her.

  "Give me your hand." Chester reached out farther — and missed Buck's flailing hand. Instead, he found Buck's head and pushed him down under the surface of the pool. "Ooops!" he cried facetiously, and reached out again. And dunked Buck again. Laura took hold of Chester's arm and tried to haul him away from the water's edge, but it was like trying to budge a boulder.

  "Stop it!" she yelled.

  After one last dunk, Chester stood up. "I was just trying to help," he said, with an evil grin on his face.

  Buck finally found the edge of the pool and pulled himself to it. Holding himself up on his arms, Buck clung to the side, his breath heaving.

  "You nearly drowned him!" Laura cried, and tried to help Buck out of the water.

  "If I wanted to drown him, I would have," Chester hissed. Looking at Buck, he practically spat, "You came to the wrong place today, buddy. Coming here was like walking into the lion's den smeared with bacon fat."

  Buck still hadn't recovered enough to reply. Satisfied, Chester disappeared into the pool administration building.

  "That's it," Laura said, looking after him. "I'm going to get him fired. He can't do that."

  "No!" Buck choked out finally. "Let me take care of it." Anger seeped from him like dense fog. "I've taken enough of his shit."

  Laura didn't even try to contradict him this time. For once, she felt that however Buck decided to handle this was his business. Chester deserved to be put in his place once and for all.

  "Let's go," Buck said. As they left, Laura caught a glimpse of Doug. His eyes seemed to register blank. If he had seen the altercation with Chester, he gave no sign of it. He looked like a zombie.

  * * *

  Laura and Buck decided to scuttle the rest of the day. Chester had ruined whatever good time they might have been able to have. When Laura dropped Buck off at home, she called him back to the car before he went inside. He leaned in the driver's side window much like he had clung to the side of the pool.

  "What's up?" he asked, his mood only slightly lighter than since they'd left the pool.

  Laura hemmed and hawed, but finally spoke. "There's something I never told you about the night we went to the movie."

  "What?" A dark cloud seemed to hover over Buck.

  "I found a ring under the car that night. Chester's class ring. I even called him and he admitted that he had messed up your tires." She paused. Buck waited for her to go on. "Anyway, he even dared me to tell you. But I didn't. And now I'm sorry."

  "Why didn't you tell me?" he asked carefully.

  "Because I didn't want there to be trouble. Trouble was exactly what Chester wanted. Now," she admitted, "I just don't care. Least of all about Chester." Laura braced herself for Buck's anger. Instead, he relaxed.

  "Oh, well, that's okay. Doug or Chester — knowing for sure doesn't make that much of a difference to me, actually."

  "So are you mad at me?"

  "I guess I should be," he said. "But I'm not. Lucky you."

  "Yeah, I feel lucky," she said, smiling.

  Buck managed a smile of his own, but it seemed labored. "Let's try again tomorrow, okay?"

  "Not the pool, right?"

  "Not the pool," he echoed. "I wouldn't be caught dead there."

  * * *

  The rest of the day seemed to last forever. Shelby was still feeling poorly, and napped on and off during the day. Laura realized suddenly that she had no one to talk to. When the sun finally set, Laura anxiously awaited sleep. She wanted to escape today and hope for a better tomorrow. How pathetic, Laura thought. I'm acting like all I want is a day without tragedy. Could things get any worse?

  Laura shuddered.

  Lately, that seemed to be the wrong question to ask.

  * * *

  At midnight, large hands appeared on the top of the stone wall that surrounded much of the pool. Muscles flexed. Chester's muscles. He gave himself three pull-up reps before lifting himself to the top of the wall and over.

  "Quit flexing and pull me up," said Chester's female companion on the other side of the wall. Obliging (not because he was obliging by nature, but because he was finished flexing), Chester lifted his date over the wall. She giggled to have his arms around her. She was so much smaller than he was, she was like a feather by comparison. Soon she was standing beside him.

  Shelby Walcutt looked around the dark, empty pool area. A thrill rushed up her spine.

  "You have a key. Why didn't we come in the front door?" she as
ked.

  Chester laughed as if she were a clever little child, threw his arm around her, and they began to walk toward the pool building, which loomed like a large blank spot before them.

  "Because, silly, anybody can come through the front door during regular hours. Coming over the wall is more exciting."

  "I guess," Shelby told him, but she seemed playfully unconvinced. She giggled again. "Did you ever bring Laura here late at night?" she asked.

  "Nope. She's a little straitlaced for pool-hopping."

  "I bet," Shelby said in a voice Laura would not recognize. It was more adult, and more harsh. "She'd be really upset if she knew I was here now."

  "Oh, who cares about her?" Chester purred. Girls liked it when he purred. Shelby was different, though. At his comment she whirled in his arms.

  "I do," she said sharply. "I don't want her to get hurt, which is why she can't know what's going on." Chester recoiled slightly, then Shelby wrapped his arms around her waist again like he was a sweater. "That doesn't mean I don't want to have fun," she purred, even more effectively that he had. "I can't believe how boring I've been my whole life."

  "Personally," Chester said, lifting her up off her feet, "I think you're cured."

  Shelby shrieked, then covered her mouth out of embarrassment.

  "Ready for a swim?" Chester asked.

  "Not yet," Shelby told him. "You go ahead, though."

  Chester instantly stripped to the swim trunks he had worn under his cutoffs. In the dim light of the stars and the crescent moon, Chester could barely see Shelby. Too bad, he thought. That means she can barely see me.