“That was never part of our arrangement.” A very traditional revolver appeared in the man’s hand. Before Dr. Johnson could say anything, the man fired twice. Both bullets tore into Dr. Johnson’s abdomen. He collapsed to the floor. Putting a hand on his midsection, it came back covered in blood.
The red eyes looked down at him. “Now there will be nothing to stop me.”
Dr. Johnson heard the door shut. He flipped himself onto his belly, screaming with pain as he landed on the wound. His only hope was to crawl about ten feet to his desk and reach the phone. With two bullet wounds the ten feet might as well be ten miles.
He forced himself to think of Lois and Jessie. He couldn’t abandon them now. Especially not Lois. What would she do without him? With this thought in mind he forced himself to crawl forward, leaving a trail of blood behind him.
By the time he reached the desk his vision consisted of two narrow tunnels. Even those were getting fuzzy. He swatted at his desk, trying to reach for the phone. His first attempt knocked the pictures from his desk on top of him. He took a deep, rattling breath and then levered himself up, screaming as he did so. His bloodstained fingers snagged the phone and wrenched it down on top of him.
He picked up the receiver, pressing it to his ear. Nothing. He still had the wherewithal to make sure the cord was plugged in. It was. Set had been smart enough to cut the phone lines before taking Dr. Johnson upstairs.
With a sigh he tossed the phone aside. His fingers brushed against the pictures on top of him. He held up the one of Jessie and Lois. He focused on Lois’s face. She had been only ten years old but already in middle school. Her freckled cheeks were slightly red and her eyes looking down, as if she were ashamed to be having her picture taken.
As he stared at her, he had a second vision. He saw the doom predicted in the ancient temple in living color. Set was only beginning. He would unleash plagues of horrors upon the world. If left unchecked, he would cover everything in darkness.
With his last ounces of strength Dr. Johnson dipped his finger into his midsection as if dipping a quill into ink. Then he began to write.
* * *
When Lois heard a knock on her door she grabbed the two-by-four she kept next to the bed. Drs. Johnson and Pavelski had warned her about this being a dangerous neighborhood. Lois knew she could take care of herself, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t use a little help. She clutched the piece of wood as if it were a baseball bat while she eased towards the door.
“Who is it?” she asked.
“A friend,” a man’s voice said.
Lois tossed the board aside and then threw open the door. She wasn’t sure how she would react when she saw Tony again, whether she would hug him or punch him in the face. She decided to hug him first and then punch him hard in the arm.
“Ow! What was that for?” he said.
“Where the hell have you been? Mom’s been in a hospital for a week now.”
“I’m sorry. Hospitals aren’t really my thing, you know?” he said, raising his voice to sound like Melanie.
“As if I were throwing a fucking party in there.”
“I’m sorry, Lois. I wasn’t sure you really wanted to see me anyway. After what happened when we went out.”
“I am still steamed about that, but that doesn’t mean I don’t ever want to see you.” She motioned to the interior of her room. “Come on in. Though I’ll warn you it’s not exactly Better Home & Gardens in here.”
“That’s fine. I’m not exactly Prince William either.”
He sat down on the lumpy bed that slanted steeply down because the two front legs were broken. She stood in front of him, arms crossed over her chest. “So what brings you here?”
“I just wanted to see you. Melanie said you were here.”
“You’re still talking to Melanie, eh?”
“I would have tried calling but you don’t have a phone.”
“Good one. Blame the victim.”
“Victim? I’ve already apologized. What more do you want?”
“Maybe I want a pity fuck right here on the bed.”
“Be serious, Lois. I’m really sorry about your mom. She was a nice lady.”
“She still is a nice lady,” Lois said. “She’s not dead.”
“Sorry.”
“Really, why did you take this long to show up? Didn’t you think I might have needed you? Do you have any idea how hard it’s been?” When she began to cry he stood up to take her into his arms. She punched him in the stomach and then pushed him back onto the bed. “Don’t think you can sweep me up in your arms like you’re fucking Rhett Butler!”
“How many times do I have to apologize to you?”
“At least be honest. Why didn’t you come see me?”
He looked down at the grubby motel carpet. “Because I’m a coward, all right? I’ve already been through my parents dying. It tore me up inside. Thinking about you and your mom, I just couldn’t do it. I’m so sorry, Lois. I really do care about you and your mom. You’re very special people. I was just scared. Can you forgive me?”
Lois glared down at him, wondering if he were telling the truth. She had thought he cared about her before only to have him ditch her at the club. Maybe he was hoping that by apologizing he could wring a pity fuck out of her. Yet when she looked into his eyes, she couldn’t help but believe him.
She unfolded her arms and used them to hug him. She kissed his cheek and then whispered into his ear, “I’ll forgive you. This time.”
They were kissing when there was a second knock at the door. Lois didn’t have time to answer it; Melanie was already bursting inside, her face red and tears streaming down her cheeks. “Oh my God, it’s so terrible!” she wailed.
“What? Is something wrong with Mom?” Lois asked. The hospital had the motel’s phone number and her room number. They had promised to call if anything changed. Maybe they were still pissed at her for assaulting Dr. Pavelski. In which case this was the cruelest revenge of all.
“No! It’s Dr. Johnson! He’s dead!”
* * *
There was already a cordon of cops surrounding the Thorne Museum—again. They had just left and now they were back again, this time for Dr. Johnson. Melanie had seen the report on television about another murder at the museum. The staff grapevine had indicated it was Dr. Johnson the cops had found dead.
Lois prayed they were wrong. Or that it was the Dr. Johnson who worked in the zoology department and specialized in the mating habits of birds on the Azores. She knew Mom would tell her that it was wrong to wish for anyone’s death, but when it was the man she had thought of as her father, her uncle, her mentor and her future husband she couldn’t help herself.
A beat cop stopped them at the yellow tape. “No one’s allowed in there,” he said.
“My uncle is in there!” Lois shouted.
“Sorry, ma’am. No exceptions.”
Lois trembled with rage. Only Tony’s arm around her shoulder kept her from punching out the officer and facing a year or two in jail. “We’re employees of this museum,” she said.
“Sorry,” the cop said again.
She hadn’t worked with Melanie long, making it amazing how quickly they came up with the plan, all without saying a word. Melanie simply gave Lois a look and she understood. She nodded slightly. If Tony was in on it, he didn’t show any sign.
Melanie screamed like a girl in a horror movie. Then she dropped to her knees, hands pressed to her chest. “Oh my God!” she screamed. “My pills! Where are my pills?”
As she began rolling around on the ground, the cop left his position by the yellow tape. Tony knelt down to take Melanie’s hand. She kept rolling around and even got her eyes to roll back in her head; she probably would have started foaming at the mouth if she could manage it.
Lois took her cue and ducked beneath the tape. She broke into a run towards the museum. No one seemed to notice her yet, all of their attention focused on Melanie. If she didn’t end up in jail, Lois promised that she would
never think of Melanie as stupid again.
She had just reached the top steps when the door opened. Lois thought for sure the jig was up, that she was going to be busted before she ever got to see if it really was Dr. Johnson up there. That was until she saw it was a paramedic opening the door.
She took a step aside, watching as the paramedics wheeled a gurney out the front doors. A gurney covered with a white sheet. “No!” she shrieked. She pushed one of the paramedics aside to tear the sheet away from the gurney.
She dropped to her knees, knowing there was no need to go any farther. It was Dr. Johnson on the gurney, his body pale, his chest and hands smeared with blood, and two holes in his abdomen. Clutching the sheet in her hands, she curled into a ball against the front of the museum.
He was dead. Her surrogate father, her surrogate uncle, her mentor, and her future husband were all dead. Him and Aunt Betty were dead and Mom was in the hospital, probably crippled. It was as if a vengeful God were getting even with her for running away from that diner seven years ago.
She felt a hand on her shoulder. A woman’s voice said, “Lois Locke?”
“Yes,” she said without looking up.
“We need to talk.”
“I don’t give a—” She stopped when she saw the gold badge in the woman’s hand.
* * *
They held the interrogation in the cafeteria. The woman with the gold badge introduced herself as Detective Allison Murphy of the Ren City Police Department. She wore a weather-beaten green army jacket and jeans with holes in the knees. That along with the sloppy dark brown ponytail made her look more like a transient than a cop. Maybe they’d gotten her out of bed for this.
“You want a coffee or anything?” Murphy asked.
“No, I’m fine.”
“Then you won’t mind telling me how you got past the barricade?”
“I waited until the officer was looking away and then I ran inside.”
The detective shook her head. She reached into her pocket for a cigarette. “You mind if I smoke?”
“Yeah, I do,” Lois said. “My mother runs this museum, you know. Or she did.”
“I do know that. She was shot about a week ago, right?”
“Yes.”
“And you got a bump on the head too, right?”
“Yes.”
“What’s your relation to Dr. Johnson?”
“He’s a family friend. A really close family friend.” Lois wasn’t about to tell this stranger, especially not a cop, about her relationship to Dr. Johnson.
“Now he’s dead.”
“You think I did it?”
“I’m not saying that.” The detective stuffed the cigarette back into her jacket. She took out a pad of paper. She made a show of consulting this, although Lois figured the cop probably already knew what was written on it. “You came back just a few days before the robbery, didn’t you? I see they got you in Texas for reckless driving and assault.”
“Good to know you’re doing your homework.”
“Where were you about two hours ago?”
“In my room at the Palladium Motel. You can ask them if you want.”
“Anyone vouch for you?”
“My friends outside. They told me what happened.”
“But were they in the room with you at that time?”
“No.”
“So you were alone in there?”
“I was trying to sleep.”
“I’m sure.” Murphy took the cigarette out again and tapped it on the table. Lois wanted to snatch it away and smash it, but she knew she couldn’t. “What about the other night? How’d you get that bump on the head?”
“One of the thieves knocked me out.”
“They knocked you out but didn’t kill you like the guard? Or like they tried to do to your mom?” Murphy smiled, which on her gaunt face looked anything but friendly. “And they were so considerate that they tucked you away in the gift shop until someone could find you.”
“What do you want me to say? That I knocked myself on the head?”
“Not at all, Miss Locke. I think that robbery was an inside job. I think you helped them get inside. They were supposed to cut you in on the take, but they got greedy. So they knocked you out.”
It was Lois’s turn to smile. “Just one flaw in your theory. If I let them in and they got greedy, why did they leave me alive? Why not kill me so I couldn’t roll on them?”
Murphy was sharp enough to already have an alternative in place. “So maybe the little genius planned the whole caper. You had one of them knock you out so it would look as if you were innocent. But your dear old friend Dr. Johnson got wise to the scheme and you decided to cover up by putting a couple of bullets in him.”
“I could never shoot Dr. Johnson. Or let anyone hurt my mother. I love them.”
“You love them so much that you ran away from seven years and only came back when someone caught up to you.”
Lois glared at the detective, but Murphy was far too hardened for this to have any impact. “Fine, make me a suspect. Haul me down to the station if you want. Then I’ll call my lawyer and we can do this all by the book.”
Without looking, Murphy flicked the cigarette into a trashcan, which Lois found most impressive of all. The detective stood up. “I’m not taking you in. Not yet. But I’m sure you know not to leave town. I’ll be keeping an eye on you. In the meantime, you want to get something off your chest, give me a call.” She flicked a business card just as deftly against Lois’s chest. “See you around, kid.”
A uniformed officer motioned for Lois to stand up and then escorted her back outside. She looked all around, but Dr. Johnson was already gone.
Chapter 11
Lois didn’t bother with changing, showering, or putting on any makeup the next morning. She bought a coffee on the way to the hospital, hoping that it would pick her up, but one look at the morning’s newspaper and she knew nothing would help. The Renaissance City Daily News didn’t give out Dr. Johnson’s name in their description of the murder at the museum, for which Lois was grateful.
Still, she didn’t dare bring the paper with her into the hospital. Dr. Pavelski had warned Lois that Mom wasn’t to read anything, especially not something as upsetting as the newspaper. Knowing Mom, she would tear out the tubes and wires and then drag herself back to the museum, up to the office.
When Lois got to the hospital, she found her mother still asleep. It was hard to tell this until Lois crept around to the other side of the bed to see Mom’s face. As she always did, Lois sank down on the chair to wait for Mom to wake up. Sometimes that would happen right away or other times it would take hours.
During the long periods of waiting, Lois wished for a newspaper, book, or even some cards to entertain herself. But she didn’t want Mom to see her goofing off, as if she were just passing the time until her shift ended like back at the diner in Durndell. She wanted Mom to know how much she cared, how dedicated she was.
As Lois waited, she saw Mom’s left cheek twitch. This was followed by the left side of her lips. Lois took her mother’s hand and gave it a squeeze of reassurance. At the same time she wondered if her mother were having a stroke and if she should press the button to call for a nurse.
Her hand seemed to be enough to calm Mom down. Her mouth stopped twitching and pulled into a slight smile. Her eyes fluttered before finally opening all the way. Lois smiled at her mother and said, “Hi, Mom. I’m here.”
“Hi, sweetheart. I was dreaming about you.”
“A good dream?” Lois reached for the pitcher of water to pour some into a cup. She placed the straw in Mom’s lips to let her take a pull. This was part of their ritual, Mom usually being thirsty after she woke up.
“No. A nightmare. Until I felt your hand.”
“Mom, you’ve got to stop this,” Lois said. For days Mom kept having nightmares about something terrible happening to Lois. She didn’t give much detail, just saying that Lois needed to get out of town and go b
ack on the road. “No one’s going to hurt me. It’s you we need to worry about. We have to focus on you getting better.”
“I don’t think I’ll be getting much better.”
“Don’t talk like that, Mom. You’ll get through this. I’ll help you.”
Mom’s Glare wasn’t what it had been, but still enough to make Lois cringe. “What have you been up to, young lady? You look a mess.”
“I haven’t been sleeping well.”
“It’s more than that. You’ve been crying.”
“So? I think I have reason to cry with you in bed, like this.”
“You weren’t crying all the other times you’ve come to visit.”
“I was just putting up a brave front.”
Mom shook her head a little, as much as she could with her neck in a brace. “It’s Richard, isn’t it? He’s the one who died.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about—”
“One of the nurses had the radio on for me last night. They said on the news report that a man was killed in the Egyptology department. Only Richard would be up there at night.”
“It could have been a janitor. Or a guard.”
“Lois—”
“All right, Mom. It was him. Someone shot him.” Lois began to cry again. Mom squeezed her hand, which was about all she could do at this point. “Why would someone do that? Richard would never hurt anyone. He was so nice and caring, like a father.”
“I know, sweetheart. I cared for him a lot too.”
“But he’s not my real father, right?”
“No.” Mom sighed. “There was a time when I thought he would be, but things didn’t work out between us.”
“Why not?”
“It’s complicated. Then he and Betty started dating and they hit it off.”
“And you weren’t jealous?”
“Maybe a little at first, but then I met your father.”
“Oh.” Lois wiped at her eyes, not daring to tell Mom about seeing Dr. Johnson’s body or being interviewed by Detective Murphy. “I wish I could have gotten the chance to work with him, like we always talked about. I wish—” She couldn’t say the rest, how she wished she could have made him proud of her. Instead she was a screw-up working at the gift shop. He would never get the chance to prove herself to him, not anymore. Someone had taken that chance from her.
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