Nursery Tale
Page 18
According to Chief of Police John Hastings, some of the children involved were either "runaways" or "perhaps relatives of people living in Granada," because, Hastings says, "our records indicate that only three or four children, at most, were full-time residents of Granada, and one of them has already been accounted for." That child, Hastings told this reporter, is ten-year-old Timmy Meade, whose parents, Dora and Larry Meade, aged 30 and 32 respectively, were among the victims in Granada.
Only two other residents of Granada appear to have escaped the incredible violence there. Miles McIntyre, 35, and his wife Janice, 29, who is, with Timmy Meade, listed in satisfactory condition at Myers Community Hospital, suffering from exposure. John Marsh, a resident of Penn Yann, found both Mrs. McIntyre, and the Meade boy, on Reynolds Road, the night of the tragedy. Marsh himself was treated for exposure at Myers Community Hospital and released. He was not available for comment.
Investigators theorize that the tragedy may have begun with the murders of Dick Wentis, 37, and his wife Trudy, 32, who were found . . .
Chapter 38
April 23, the next year
Seth Freeman liked being back where his roots were. Despite the memories. And the impulses. But he could control them now. He could turn them on, he could turn them off, and the man he called Grandpa had no reason to run from him, as he had run five years ago, when he feared that Seth—glimpsing his origins, glimpsing the thing that he was—was going to turn on him.
And, Seth thought now, he might have turned on him, almost did, in fact. But at last, what he had glimpsed of himself had frightened him, and quieted him. Totally. Until a week ago. When, finally, he had accepted himself for what he was—the magnificent, exquisite, and magical thing that he was.
He turned to the man beside him. "You think the people will ever try to come back here, Grandpa?" And he nodded meaningfully at the big iron gates.
The man raised an eyebrow. "Would you like it if they came back?" he asked.
Seth thought about the question for a long while. Finally, he answered, "No. This is only where it began. It is no place."
And the man understood.
From The Rochester Times Union, June 24—two years later:
MISSING WOMAN MAY HAVE HAD UNDERWORLD CONNECTIONS
Liliane Muir, 29, missing since June 1, may have been the victim of an underworld-style execution, according to Rochester Chief of Detectives Bill Hammer. Ms. Muir, an employee of Dutton Labs in Rochester, was apparently planning to come forward with testimony in the death late last November of Sammy "The Pistol" Guillermo. According to Detective Hammer, Ms. Muir contacted him early in May about "certain evidence and eyewitness testimony relating to the Guillermo murder" which, Hammer went on, "will obviously have to wait quite some time—until we have an idea what happened to Ms. Muir—before it sees the light of day."
Ms. Muir, described as "short, blonde, and, when last seen, wearing blue jeans and a purple, bulky knit sweater," disappeared while visiting her sister, Ann, who lives near Eagle Bay, in the Adirondacks, about forty miles northeast of Utica, N.Y. Ms. Muir's sister testified that Ms. Muir "just went out for a walk that evening and never came back." A weeklong search for the woman turned up nothing, and Detective Hammer admits now that while the chances are "very good" that she was the victim of a gangland-style killing, there seems also to have been an increase in disappearances in that area of the Adirondacks in recent months, leading to the possibility that underworld activities may have little, if any, connection with the disappearance of Ms. Muir.
From The Inlet Bee—one year later:
LEPRECHAUNS IN THE ADIRONDACKS?
It's the silly season again, folks. We've got monsters in Loch Ness, Big Foot in Montana, UFOs over Utah, ghosts just about everywhere, and now, as sure as the day is long, Leprechauns in the Adirondacks. That's right—Leprechauns. The Little People!
leprechaun: Irish Folklore—a fairy in the form of a little old man who can reveal a buried crock of gold to anyone who catches him.
That's the dictionary definition, folks. We, however, seem to have our own brand of leprechaun—wonderfully unique to the Adirondacks. First of all, he's not old. He is, in fact, quite young. And no one's said anything about "crocks of gold" either (although we're waiting, and hoping). Oh, and just to keep the record straight, our Adirondack Leprechauns seem to have left their clothes somewhere—they're all quite naked. I give you this in all sincerity, and although I am honor bound not to name names, I can tell you that a certain mayor of a certain little Adirondack town we all know and love has reported seeing these quick-moving little heathens, and also the owner/manager of a certain favorite hardware store . . .
But I go too far. I would, in signing off, merely like to note that our particular Leprechaun File is circular, and that it sits on the floor close to my desk.
Have a Happy!