Night Mares

by Janine R Pestel

  "Car 10. HQ, pick up made, and we are en route to the town hall."

  "Roger 10," came the reply.

  While he drove, the officer occasionally glanced into the rear view mirror to study their honorable guest. He took note that the man was not in the least disturbed by the passing of the mayor. It almost appeared that he enjoyed this. He looked out his window a few times, then sat back and allowed his eyes to close as if they were on a joy ride.

  Officer Hanley glanced in the mirror. You son of a bitch. Can't you at least pretend you're upset about Mayor Benson passing? If I weren't an officer of the law, I'd put my hands around that jelly doughnut of a throat of yours.

  Tibbs' eyes opened, and he glared at the driver. Bill almost panicked. He thought perhaps he had spoken aloud, but when his partner didn't react, he saw he worried for no reason.

  Keep talking like that, and I'll take you with me. Hatred breeds hatred, and that pleases me, a voice in the officer's head said. Startled, he looked around.

  "What's the matter?" Officer Willets asked, glancing over at him.

  "Nothing," he answered, "I thought I heard a fly or something. It startled me a little." She knit her eyebrows together. He glanced back up at the mirror, to glare at the man in the back seat.

  Tibbs' eyes opened, and he simply smiled at the lawman before once again closing his eyes to relax.

  -2-

  The air in the small bar-and-grill-style restaurant was thick with the aromas of beer and burgers, with a side of whiskey. Four people sat in a booth near a window—three men and a woman.

  Two of the men were Johann Gunter—known by many as "Father Gunter"—and Robert Durling, a former coroner. Both men formed a friendship and teamed up recently as demon hunters. The woman was Belinda Carstone, a well-known reporter for a nationally syndicated news program. Johann would watch her show nightly to find out if anything strange happened somewhere. The third man, sitting next to Belinda, was David. He was her friend and cameraman. He was wishing their relationship could be a little more than a work relationship, but Belinda never seemed to catch on to that.

  Johann and Robert met Belinda and David about a week earlier while in a small town called Mountainview, where they battled an earl and a prince from hell. They now found themselves here in the town of Clemons because of a dream Belinda had.

  Johann took a sip of his brew and scratched at his cheek. He had been busy the last few days and hadn't had time to shave. The hair on his face had gone beyond the five o'clock shadow phase and started to itch.

  "You gonna let it grow?" asked Belinda. "I like beards. I think you should keep it."

  "No way," answered Johann. "As soon as we check into a motel, this fuzz is coming off. Except for the mustache, of course." Belinda pouted her lips. Johann took another sip from his glass of beer.

  "You're aware that's your fourth one, right?" said Robert. "Your head must be spinning by now. Not to mention, you’re beginning to smell like a mobile brewery or something.” He waved his hand trying to get rid of the alcohol smell.

  "Not at all," Johann turned to his friend. "I can drink a lot more than you think before my head starts to spin." He leaned a little closer to his compadre, as though telling him a secret. "You don't think we priests put grape juice in the chalice during mass, do you?" Robert gazed at his demon-hunting partner; a touch of surprise registered on his face. He let out a slight chuckle.

  "No, I guess not," Robert said.

  "So, you used to be a priest, Mister Gunther?" Belinda asked. Johann peered up at her.

  "No 'h,'" he said. The newscaster gave him a quizzical expression. "My last name. It's pronounced Gunter, not Gunther. No 'h.' But yes, at one time I was a man of the cloth, as they say."

  "Why did you leave the priesthood?" the reporter asked. Robert rolled his eyes. Johann glanced at him before turning his attention back to Belinda.

  "There were...several reasons. All I’m gonna say is when Malphas took my sister, things…uh…happened which caused me to reconsider whether I wanted to remain a priest."

  "I'll say," Robert said, almost to himself. He remembered the story Johann told him about the last marriage ceremony he officiated over. Johann gave his friend a smile—the kind friends usually give each other when sharing an inside joke.

  "So," Johann said, turning to the newscaster. "Tell me about that dream you had." Belinda glanced down at the table for a moment before she took a sip of her gin and tonic.

  "Well, from what I remember, Dave and I were in our van. We were on our way someplace to do a live broadcast. The thing was, we had no idea where we were going. So, we got to this filling station and the man told us he'd been having nightmares lately about going out of business and closing up his place. I thought it was odd that he would tell us total strangers about this, but we filled up with gas and kept going—"

  "That doesn't seem so bad," Robert interrupted. Belinda peered at him. "I'm not to the bad part, yet."

  "Oh, sorry."

  "So, anyway…we finally got into town. The sign said we were in Clemons, and all hell broke loose. No pun intended. Everyone was walking around crying and screaming. When I asked someone what happened, they said something was in the water, and whatever it was gave all the people nightmares. People were committing suicide and murder. Some people were having tragic accidents. No one had any idea what to do, or how to clean the water."

  "Wow. That’s a pretty messed-up dream," Johann said.

  "Yes, it was," Belinda said. Johann glanced around the room. To him, nothing immediately warranted any closer scrutiny.

  "I'd say everyone here was normal," Johann said. He turned back to Belinda. "Think there may be any chance of a false alarm?"

  "I don't know." Belinda gazed down at the table. "I hope so."

  At that moment, someone entered the restaurant and raised a bit of a commotion. The man carried a radio, which was broadcasting the local nightly news. He walked over to a small group of people and placed it on the table. He called for everyone's attention, so they could all listen to what the newscaster said.

  Johann turned his attention to the disturbance. Everyone wore expressions of great concern while this new addition to the crowd let his radio play. The bartender turned off the television, so no other sound would interfere with what was happening. Some people began to wipe tears from their eyes, while some broke down and cried. Belinda, David, and Robert all gave the man their attention too.

  "My god," one of the men sitting at a nearby table said, "That can't be true."

  "You're not deaf, Jonathan," the man with the receiver said sadly. "I wish it weren't, but it is true. I drove by her house and saw the police cars myself, not five minutes ago."

  The two demon hunters exchanged glances. They got up from their seats and walked over to the now growing group of restaurant patrons.

  "Do they have any idea who did it?" someone asked.

  "No," answered the man who brought the news to the restaurant. "They say they think it was an accident."

  "Accident my American ass," another man said. "You can bet anything that damned running mate of hers had something to do with this. Everybody knows he hated her."

  "I don't know, Tom. I don't think that's really true," another man said. The first man glanced over at him, an expression of disgust on his face. The gathering crowd started to talk among themselves.

  Belinda and David joined Johann and Robert near the crowd of people. The broadcast came in loud and clear now. Belinda put her hand on her chest and caught her breath as she listened to the sad news.

  "To repeat our latest story," the radio announcer said, "we received confirmation that Mayor Benson of Clemons has been found dead in her bedroom, by family members. They have not yet released her cause of death, but the police are investigating."

  Belinda took her phone out of her purse and dialed a number. "Just like my dream," she whispered to Johann.

  After a few rings, the person answered. "Hi, Simon. It’s Belinda. Dave and I ar
e in a small town called Clemons. We just got word that the mayor has been found dead in her bedroom. It appears to have been an accident, but some of the people here believe the vice mayor may somehow be involved in it. I think there's a story here. Call the Clemons Police Department and let them know we're covering the event, please."

  She glanced over at Johann, who motioned for her attention. He listened to her conversation with Simon and wanted to make sure she included him. He gestured between himself and Robert.

  Belinda picked up on what Johann tried to convey to her. "Oh, Simon. One more thing. Tell them to expect four of us." She paused while the anchorman spoke "Yes, four of us. I know we may not get air time for this, but please do this one favor for me. I'll tell you about it later, sometime. Thank you."

  She ended the call and placed her phone back in her purse. "Did I do good?" she asked Johann.

  "Thank you. Yes, you did."

  "I guess we all go in the van," David said. Johann turned to the cameraman. The unspoken "No shit" hung in the air. David became a little self-conscious. "It'll be a little strange if we arrive in two different vehicles," his voice trailed off.

  A short while later, the four approached the mayor's house. A crowd had gathered, many of them holding lit candles, shielding the flames from the rain. People openly wept.

  "She must have been an awesome mayor," David said as he glanced around at all the people. He drove along the wet street and tried not to hit anyone. "Look at all those candles, and the people crying. Very touching. Something like this doesn't happen every day when someone in office dies."

  "Now, remember," Belinda said, turning in her seat to speak to Johann and Robert. "You're the sound guy." She pointed to Robert. "And you're my producer." She gestured to Johann.

  "Figures you would outrank me," Robert said with a snort. He nudged Johann lightly.

  "Hey, I have connections," Johann answered. "So, what exactly do we do?"

  "Try not to do anything. Robert, you'll have a microphone on a boom; all you need to do is keep it positioned so you're recording my voice. Just make sure it stays over my head, and a little in front of me." Robert nodded.

  "What do I do?" asked Johann.

  "You will have a clipboard with some papers on it. All you have to do is tell us where you want us to do the shots, what angle you want the camera at, stuff like that. Basically, just look important."

  "Ah. So, if I see something that I think we should investigate, or looks suspicious, we can capture it on film."

  "Bingo," Belinda said. She handed them each a small, plastic credential holder on a lanyard. Inside was a small plastic card emblazoned with the KMTN News logo. "Here," she said. "Put these around your necks. If anyone questions you, show them these. They're press credentials." The two demon hunters took the passes.

  They finally reached the area cordoned off by police for official vehicles only. An officer untied the police tape to allow the van passage into the restricted zone. David got as close to the house as he could and parked the vehicle.

  The house was an unassuming, two-story, Tudor-style home in a moderately upscale neighborhood. It was white with brown trim. The front lawn was well manicured with a small pine tree. Lining both sides of the front walk were small shrubs, and along the front of the house were rose bushes. Where the walk to the house joined the sidewalk, there was a lamp post and a mailbox. Parked in the driveway was an SUV and a late model Lexus sedan.

  The four got out of the van. Though the gathering crowd had grown, everyone stood silently. The only sound was the transmission being picked up by the radios in the nearby police cars and an occasional clap of thunder. The whole area was awash in red-and-blue strobe lights. The periodic flash of lightning gave a horror-movie feel to the surreal scene. No less than seven marked patrol cruisers, four or five unmarked cars, an ambulance, and a police forensics van sat parked in front of the house. Some with their doors still open.

  Several officers had been stationed outside at the police line, to make sure no one crossed the yellow tape. On the front lawn near the door to the house, some detectives talked with uniformed personnel.

  The “television crew” prepared all their equipment. When the other three appeared ready, Belinda held an umbrella and turned to face the camera. With the house in the background, she was ready to begin her broadcast.

  Johann looked at the reporter, then turned his face up to the rain. She’s so lucky to have that umbrella. All we got are these plastic ponchos. I hate these things. He turned his attention to the throng of onlookers.

  Johann tapped David on the shoulder and did his best impersonation of a real producer. "Get a shot of the crowd, please." David followed Johann's instructions and took a slow pan of all the spectators. "Thanks," Johann said. Robert gave Johann a questioning glance.

  "If we're dealing with a demon, he may be in with all the people, so he could admire his handiwork. They stand out on film," said Johann.

  "This ain't film. It's video," David said.

  "Whatever. The bastard would still be obvious."

  David brought his attention back to Belinda. Robert knelt next to David and positioned the microphone as Belinda had instructed.

  The reporter faced the camera and began her broadcast. "Hi, Simon. We're at the home of the mayor of Clemons. The report we received said that she was found dead earlier this evening by members of her family. Her cause of death as yet, has not been released. We arrived on the scene only moments ago, so we don't have much in the way of information yet ourselves. We're going to find out if they will allow us access to the house, or to any witnesses. So, we'll be back if and when we know more. Back to you, Simon."

  David turned off his equipment and dropped it to his side. Johann walked over to the reporter. He looked at her a moment and quirked his eyebrows. She turned and faced him.

  "I was wondering. How did you convince Simon to do this?" he asked. Belinda gave him a wry smile.

  "Who do you think pays his salary? I'm the producer of the show." She flashed a smug smile at Johann and walked away. The demon hunter stood motionless to let it sink in. Smart kid. Ya had me fooled.

  Johann, along with the other three, followed Belinda as she walked up to an officer.

  "Excuse me Officer, where can I find the commander?" she asked. The officer turned to face her. Captain Edward Stahle, a proud, twenty-five-year veteran on the force, took a discerning glance at the woman who addressed him. "That would be me, young lady. Can I help you?" he asked. She showed her KMTN card to him. He studied all four of the people in front of him. One of them smelled a little like beer to him, but he couldn’t tell which one.

  "Belinda Carstone, KMTN News. I believe my station called you to tell you we were in the area, and we're going to cover this tragedy."

  "Yes, ma'am. We did receive that call. What can I do for you? Do you want a statement?"

  "Not yet. Can we go inside?"

  "No, ma'am. The house is an active crime scene at the moment. We can't let anyone in there until the lab says they’re finished with what they have to do."

  "Crime scene?" Belinda paraphrased the captain's words. "So, is that a confirmation of a belief there was foul play?" The assumption angered Captain Stahle, and he glared at her.

  "You know, I smell beer here. I think I have a pretty good idea who drank it." He gave Johann a sideways glance. "No. It does not mean any such thing, young lady. You should know better than to ask something like that. Until we’re told otherwise, nothing is ruled out. And, until you’re instructed otherwise, you will stay out of that house. When forensics is finished with what they need to do, and the deceased is removed, you may be granted entry. Depending, of course, on what the lab finds."

  Belinda stared at him. She felt she did nothing to warrant this rant from the man. But then she softened. She realized that being a police officer, he most likely knew the mayor personally. Knowing the mayor individually would make his job tonight a little harder.

  "I'm sorry. Of
course, you're right," the reporter said. She pointed to the news van. "We'll be over there. Just in case anything happens, and you clear us to enter." The four went back to the van. They stood next to the vehicle and talked among themselves.

  While the group talked, and the rain came down outside, the investigation continued inside. The CSI photographers went about their business of documenting every inch of the room where the corpse was. Downstairs in the living room, detectives questioned the two young adult children of the deceased mayor. They also happened to be the last two to see her alive.

  "Okay, now. One more time, Miss Benson," the detective said. "What did you hear?"

  "I've told you four times, already," the young woman sobbed.

  "Yes, ma'am, you did. But, I need you to tell me one more time."

  "I heard a scream. Then, it sounded like mom said, 'get away from me.' Then, she screamed again, and in the middle of the scream, there was a loud crashing sound, and then all the noise suddenly stopped." She put her head in her hands and began sobbing heavily. The investigator knelt beside her and put his hand on her arm in an attempt to console her.

  "And what did you do?" he asked gently. The deceased mayor’s daughter lifted her head and gazed straight ahead. Tears were streaming down her cheeks.

  "I ran to her room and pounded on the door. When she didn't answer, I went in."

  "And what did you see?" the well-seasoned detective asked as he stood back up and glanced at the notes he had taken from the previous times he had asked these questions.

  "My mother. She was laying in the fireplace with the poker coming out of her mouth."

  "Did you see or hear anyone else in the room with your mother?"

  "No."

  "Then, who would she be telling to get away from her?"

  "I don't know. The bedroom window was open. Maybe the bastard came in and went out that way."

  While the two spoke, some men came down the stairs carrying a large, blue vinyl bag. Inside was the corpse of the deceased mayor. It had already been several hours since the accident, so there was some odor leaking out from the zipper. The coroner and his assistant tried to ignore it. The young woman turned her attention to the noise on the staircase and quickly turned away.