99 Souls
Page 5
Coogan asked his wife, Sally, to call the parents of Peter and Tony making up some story saying that Billy had invited them to stay for a sleepover. Coogan knew that no one in town would pass up the opportunity to have their kids stay with the most prosperous family in the county, not to mention staying in the biggest home in town. He knew that this would buy him enough time to work out a plan and help come up with a plausible story. He instructed his wife to make them some of her special cocoa. She understood what he meant was, that she should give them her special Mickey Finn - cocoa laced with whiskey to help the boys relax and possibly sleep through the night.
He left the boys with Sally, then drove to the lower end of town where he found a pay phone near the local Esso station that was closed for the evening. The area around the pay phone was dark making it perfect for his needs.
Disguising his voice, Coogan called the operator and asked to be connected to the Ashton police department. Not leaving his name, he reported that some boys were injured up at the abandoned mine and that someone should get up there immediately. Then he hung up the phone, got back in his car and headed back home.
By the time he got home, the boys seemed to be much more relaxed, although half-hammered might have been a better description. Coogan sat with them and discussed the events of the evening. Billy, Peter and Tony went over everything that happened again. He felt that from a legal standpoint he was covered, since the boys were trespassing on his property, but with Billy going along with them to the mine, things might not be so simple. He had to come up with an alternative plan.
Coogan asked Peter and Tony, “Don’t your fathers both work for me at the gas depot outside of town?” When they confirmed his suspicions, Coogan knew that he had what he needed to get control of the situation. “Excuse us, Billy,” he said leading the boys outside to the back porch, “I have to speak with your friends alone for a minute. We will be right back.”
Out on the porch, Coogan said, “Boys, I need to discuss a few things with you. The police have been called, and the proper authorities are handling the situation. I have no idea what the condition of the other boys is at this time, but none of that should matter to either of you. Especially, since neither of you were at the mine when the attack happened.” He stopped for a second staring at the boys to see if they understood what he was trying to say.
The two boys looked at each other confused then stammered, “.. but … but..”
“No boys,” Coogan interrupted, “No buts! You both were right here with Billy this evening; all evening. Do you understand?”
They looked at each other still not comprehending. Coogan tried another approach, “Now let me make this simple for you. You boys know that your fathers work for me, which means, if I want to, I can fire them both any time I choose. And if I do, then your families won’t have a pot to piss in or a window to throw it out of. Do you both understand what I am trying to say to you?”
Finally comprehending, Peter said, “We won’t say nothin’ about nothin’, Mr. Coogan. We promise. Don’t we, Tony?”
Tony agreed finally understanding the consequences of his answer, “Yes, Mr. Coogan, if you say so. We were right here with Billy all night. We don’t know nothing about any mine or nothing.”
Confident that he had made his point, Coogan gave them their final marching orders, telling them that they could never say anything to anyone about their being at the mine. They could not even tell their parents about it, no matter what pressure they put on them.
Then in typical Coogan fashion, he sweetened the deal by slipping each of the boys one hundred dollars in cash and telling them that he would give them each another hundred in a few days when all of the publicity died down.
The boys couldn’t believe their sudden change in luck. What had started out as one of the worst nights of their lives quickly had become one of the best. “Holy crap, Mr Coogan,” Tony said, “Two hundred bucks!… you got a deal!”
Coogan assumed that Billy’s other friends at the mine might actually still be alive, but he honestly wished they were not. It would make things so much easier if they were dead. Coogan came up with a story, which the boys agreed to swear to. It started with the group going up to the mine. But then, Billy and the other two boys changed their minds and left the remaining boys behind. The boys would swear that he had told the other boys to leave the mine and that they were trespassing. Billy would say that he threatened to tell his father about it and that Coogan would call the police when he found out about the trespassers. None of the boys would have any idea of what happened after they left the remaining boys behind at the mine. If the other boys chose to stay, and they ended up getting hurt it, it was tragic but not their responsibility.
Now, the next morning as Coogan sat in Maggie’s restaurant, he believed the story might actually work. The only two uncertain factors had been Johnny Carter and Tommy Marchinsky, and from what Coogan had been hearing around town, the younger child was catatonic and the older boy’s mother was keeping him quiet and away from everyone. That was good news for Coogan; very good news indeed.
Coogan tried to look unconcerned as he forced down his breakfast, all the while developing a plan to deal with the bad publicity he was about to receive. If things went according to his plan, by tomorrow he would look like a hero to the community. He would be on his way to making tons of money, and he could put all of this behind him.
Chapter 7
At the mine, vehicles from a number of television, radio and print news venues lined up along the access road leading up the hill toward the mine. Reporters scurried about, speaking with local residents, videotaping footage, taking notes and shouting out questions.
At the head of the line of news vehicles, several police cars sat with dome lights flashing, preventing the vans from getting close to the scene.
Police tape stretched across the road behind the last police cruiser. Several police officers stood stern-faced on the mine side of the tape preventing anyone from crossing, while up near the mine police continued their investigation.
From the reporters’ location far down the access road, the opening of the mine was not visible. They could see only the crest of plateau, the top-most timber of the mine entrance and the upper two thirds of the telephone pole. Several reporters put their cameras on top of their news trucks but the road was too steep to allow for a much better shot.
From the top of the plateau, Chief of Police Max Seiler stood watching the activities below; displeased by the almost carnival-like atmosphere taking place at the scene of his investigation. “What was wrong with these people?” he wondered to himself.
He stood with his arms folded across his chest, wearing his police cap and mirrored sunglasses. He was a tall man, about six feet three inches with a muscular build. The forty-something man had brown hair slightly graying at the temples and an air of confidence earned from many years in his position. He had seen a surprising number of horrible things for a small town police officer, such as gory auto accidents, fatal fires, suicides as well as domestic killings often known as 'crimes of passion'.
It was only a year ago that Wilbur Waleneski had come home and found his wife in bed with his best friend, Charlie Martinson. Apparently, Wilbur had suspected something was going on because he came loaded for bear in the form of a Smith and Wesson thirty-eight. He had practically blown his wife’s head off and had managed to disintegrate poor Charlie’s genitalia as the wounded man screamed, bleeding to death while Wilbur calmly sat and watched. Then Wilbur had turned the gun on himself and that was all she wrote.
However, Seiler had never expected to encounter anything quite like this. He knew before this was all over he would be receiving a few extra distinguishing grey hairs on his head. Reporters shouted a variety of questions at Chief Seiler, but he ignored them all.
A young police officer in his late twenties named Tim Michaels approached the Chief and stood on Seiler's left. He was awestruck with all of the commotion. He wore an overwhelmed
expression that was in direct contrast to his Chief’s stern look.
“Jee-sus!” Tim said with astonishment, “Will you look at that circus down there! What a mad house!”
Seiler gave a sideways glance at Tim and calmly replied, “Yep. That it certainly is, Tim. That it certainly is, indeed.”
Tim continued, “So, Chief. What are you going to tell those reporters about all of this? What will you say?”
“I've already told them all I intend to tell them at the press conference earlier this morning, Tim,” he said, “Anything else is not for their ears - or anyone else's ears for that matter. Is that clear, Tim?”
Tim thought for a moment then assured, “Clear as clear can be, Chief…. But what if someone from town tells them… you know …and they starting asking about the legend and all…”
Seiler hated any mention of the local legend of Coogan’s mine. Being a realist, legends, superstitions, myths, old wives’ tales had no business in police affairs.
Seiler looked directly at Tim, “About what legend, Tim? There is no legend. We don’t know anything about any legend. Do you understand?”
“Ah yes, yes, Chief”, Tim responded. “I understand completely. We don’t know anything about any legend.”
Seiler took a deep breath, looked down and scanned the activities below, then instructed Tim, “The last thing we need is to have those reporters listening to a few old wives’ tales, blowing this whole thing out of proportion. We would be swamped with idiots with guns up here shooting and anything that moved, including each other.”
Then he said, “Tim, I want you to wait about another hour or two, and then take a couple of the boys and start backing those reporters out of here. We will give them their time here then send them on their way so we can get back to work.”
Tim replied, “Will do, Chief.” Then he turned and went back to watch the activities at the entrance to the mine where criminal investigators were gathering evidence from the mine door and the surrounding ground. The boy’s body had been moved to the morgue. The coal dirt in front of the mine was sickeningly darker than the surrounding soil. The investigators were taking samples of this area, still saturated with Jimmy’s blood. Clumps of hair and flesh were stuck to the top of the mine door and a few unidentifiable tufts of what appeared to be fur was near the base of the door.
Though the investigators were doing their best to stay professional, from time to time they would glance sideways at the mine opening as if they were expecting that something might come out of the darkness and attack them.
The Chief looked up toward the first foot rung of the telephone pole. “What was it about that pole that felt out of place?” he wondered. He believed he might be missing something, but from his current position and the glare of sunlight, he couldn’t tell for sure. He sensed that somehow this pole was important. Perhaps it was simply because they found the dead boy’s body at the base of the pole. Maybe that was all it was. Nevertheless, in his gut he had an uneasy feeling that he just couldn’t quite explain. Then he saw it. “What was that on the footrest?”
Down the hill below, Elizabeth Matthews and Jason were filming random news footage for their evening broadcast. Jason had the camera trained on Elizabeth as she delivered her report.
After completing her presentation, Elizabeth waited a few seconds giving Jason the cut signal. She turned and noticed Chief Seiler looking curiously up at the telephone pole. Squinting her eyes she tried to follow his gaze to see where he was looking.
Then she got an idea. She asked, “Jason, do you have the binoculars with you?”
“Yeah,” Jason replied, “They're in the truck. I'll go get them.”
Jason turned and headed to the news truck. Elizabeth returned her gaze to Chief Seiler. What was he up to?
The chief slowly turned, looked down and saw Elizabeth watching him, his face unemotional. Yet, even with his mirrored sunglasses, she got the impression that he seemed to be very uncomfortable with her watching him; as if she had just caught him discovering something that he really did not want anyone else to know.
Seiler tried his best to look uninterested, slowly turning to join the investigators near the mine.
Jason returned with the binoculars. “Here you go boss. What exactly are you looking for?”
Elizabeth replied honestly, “I'm not sure. But I think something odd is going on up there. I saw the Chief staring at something on that light pole.”
Elizabeth panned her binoculars to the area around the lowest visible portion of telephone pole and brought them into focus. Then she panned up very slowly along the length of the telephone pole taking time to examine it thoroughly. When she got to the first metal foot rest she stopped.
Hanging on the rung was what appeared to be a bloody scrap of material. “No - that couldn’t be could it,” she thought. It appeared to be a small chunk of bloody human flesh.
“What the Hell is...,” Elizabeth questioned.
Chapter 8
“Hey!” Someone suddenly shouted from behind, startling Elizabeth.
Elizabeth jumped, dropping the binoculars to the ground where the lenses smashed against some rocks. As she looked down at the binoculars, again she heard the voice from behind her.
“Hey, lady,” the voice shouted.
Elizabeth turned slowly to face whomever it was that had the audacity to startle her. She was furious because she knew that she would have to explain the broken binoculars to her boss when she requisitioned a replacement pair. Plus, she would not be able to find out what it was she was actually seeing up on the pole. The zoom lens on their video camera was not powerful enough to get a close look at that pole. She felt as though she had just missed an important component of her story and now the opportunity was gone forever.
As she turned she found herself face to face with that senile old character from the restaurant. “What was this idiot’s name?” She thought. “Yes, Willie. That was it. Willie was what they called him.” Seeing that the man just standing staring at her pushed her anger to the brink.
She unloaded on the man, “What in the Hell are you trying to do, you crazy old fool? Give me a Goddamn heart attack?” Elizabeth grew more furious with the old man by the minute shouting, “They are right about you! You are a crazy old bastard!”
She pushed past Willie and shouted to Jason, “Let's get out of here, Jason. We got what we came for, and I just don't know how much more of these inbred web-toed mutants I can take.” She turned away stomping toward the news van.
Willie watched her leave as his face took on a serious expression. He shouted after Elizabeth, “Mutants, are we? Inbred are we? Well it just happens that us ‘mutants’ all know a lot more about what goes on in that there mine than you might think we know. And I know a lot more than most folks know.”
Elizabeth reluctantly stopped in her tracks, the reporter’s instinct within her taking over. Then she slowly turned walking back in Willie’s direction, her anger subsiding, being replaced with curiosity. She thought to herself, “What does this old fool know? What can he tell me? Is he really crazy or just a bit off?”
As she got closer to the old man, she addressed him in a more charming tone, “Mr…Willie. May I call you Willie? My name is Elizabeth Matthews.”
She cautiously extended her hand to shake his grimy paw. He shook her hand gently and now seemed somewhat intimidated by the attractive and well-known reporter.
He shyly replied, “I know who you are. I watch you most nights on the TV News from Philly. I didn’t realize that was you, up at the restaurant. I should apologize for my outburst. Sometimes I just get…. so upset… about things… that I can’t hardly control myself.”
Elizabeth continued turning on the charm. “Now Willie, there is no need to apologize. I understand that you are a man with strong convictions, and you certainly have the right to express yourself. This is a free country after all… Well, now what exactly is it you would like to tell me? What is this ‘information’ that you are
willing to share with me?”
Willie looked into Elizabeth’s eyes, appearing to have a weight on his shoulders much greater than his stooped old frame could to carry.
He said to Elizabeth, “I have a tale, Miss Elizabeth; a story. Some say a legend based on a bit of fact, but I say 'tis all fact. All true.”
Elizabeth was starting to regret her decision to speak with the man. She was in conflict. Personally, she would have loved to hear what he had to say. However, today she was on the clock and she was struggling with her personal wishes and her job responsibilities.
She tried to find a polite way to bow out, “I have to be completely honest with you Willie, I am here to get a real news story. My station would not be interested in any folk tales or legends and would not tolerate me taking the time to hear such things.”
Willie surprised her by abruptly turning away and making a dismissing gesture. “Have it your way missy. I just thought that maybe….”
Elizabeth was truly interested in local folk legends and was actually working on a book of such stories, and she was about to let what could possibly be a good one walk away. Perhaps if she listened to his tale maybe something he said she would be able to use in her news report. This way she could justify the time spent to ease her own professional conscience.
Elizabeth called out to him.” Wait a moment … Mr., I mean, Willie. Not so fast.’
He stopped and turned around again to face her. She explained, “I said my TV station might not be interested in what you have to say. …But I might be personally interested in hearing your tale. But I must be perfectly honest, I haven’t got a lot of time and I can't pay you anything for your tale.”
Willie looked at her indignantly and replied, “Miss Elizabeth, I ain't looking for no money. I'm an old man, almost eighty years old. My time here on earth is almost up, I know that. Too much hard living and hard drinking has taken its toll on this old worn out carcass. I don't want no money, I just want to pass this story on, is all, as my Daddy did for me.” He looked at her earnestly and asked “So are you interested or not?”