The Duce of Pentacles

by S. A. Gorden

  Frank's last conscious thought was that he had failed for a third time.

  The old man was shaken. Who did he just kill? He had seen the car pull up in front of his house. He had recognized the man behind the wheel as one of the policemen that had come to the school. As he watched the cop stare out the windshield of his car, the old man got some duct tape, his twenty-two, and an empty milk jug. He was ready to kill the cop when he finally got out of his car. The old man had never been worried by the cop. He knew that the cop was trained to try to arrest a suspect before shooting. That's why people were so easy to kill. They always had to talk first.

  But now the old man was worried. Somehow the cop had known him. The killer didn't like the idea of anyone knowing him. The old man got his Coleman cooler from the closet. Filling it with ice he went into the basement and loaded it with his trophies. He was about ready to leave when he glanced at the cop. Something bright showed from the dead man's mouth. The old man bent closer and saw that it was a gold tooth. The old man went to the closet. On a shelf in back, he found a claw hammer. Two blows with the hammer and the cop's jaw was broken. He reached into the mouth with the claw portion of the hammer. It took very little prying to pull the broken jaw from the dead man's flesh.

  The old man giggled at the way the gold tooth contrasted with the piece of white jaw and the other remaining teeth. He whistled the theme from the _Andy Griffith Show_ as he packed the jaw into the cooler. The old man loaded his pickup. He drove to an old abandoned barn at the edge of town. He got comfortable on the bench seat.

  The old man looked at his cooler. He could sense the ice already melting in it. He would have to find a freezer soon or everything would spoil. He forced himself to sleep through the night. He needed the rest. He also knew he had his best ideas in the morning shortly after he woke. There was more killing to be done before he left town.

  * * * *

  Henry called the sheriff's department of Sioux Bluff, South Dakota. The current sheriff didn't recognize the names of Frank Jenson or Jefferson Shermon but he promised Henry to call him right back after he talked to his father. He assured Henry that his father had lived in Sioux Bluff his whole life and knew everything about everybody.

  Henry tried to make the time pass quickly by reviewing the other records to find more links. Instead of accomplishing anything, he only succeeded in shuffling papers. It was nearly two-thirty in the morning before he got a phone call from Sioux Bluff. The sheriff had called in to his night deputy with the information from his father. He had the deputy look up the old records that his father had remembered. After locating the records, the deputy had called Henry.

  Vernon had followed Henry back to his office. Henry asked him to go to the main office and pick up the faxes the deputy was sending while he made a call back to the sheriff. Vernon read the faxes as soon as the machine spit them out. By the second sheet of paper, Vernon called another BCA agent and sent him to Frank's room.

  By five o'clock, the sheriff's station was filled with cops as the news spread that another officer had disappeared. Groggy from lack of sleep, Henry tried to coordinate the search for Frank and plan the questioning of JW Shermon.

  * * * *

  Chris had driven through the town of Deer Lake Falls three times before the sun started to rise. He was nervous and a little scared. He had only been a town cop for ten months. He had taken the job because he needed the health insurance and the local union mills were not hiring. This killer had him scared spitless. He got queasy when he thought of what happened to Al. When he got off shift, he swore to himself that he would apply again at the union paper companies.

  As the pink glow in the east faded into the long yellow shadows of early morning, the town woke up around his patrol car. Houses lit up and the streets started to empty as people left for work. Chris had not driven down every street but had stopped at the head of the occasional cul-de-sac to look down the side streets. The traffic slowed at seven forty as the first large group of commuters had already left for their eight o'clock jobs. As Chris pulled up to an intersection, he noticed a cul-de-sac empty of vehicles except for a nondescript tan car. Chris noted the state license plate. He pulled past the intersection and radioed in to the station that he had found Frank's car. Chris pulled his gun from his holster and prayed that backup would arrive before anything happened.

  * * * *

  The only reason Jacob McKinsie ran for county sheriff was that he wanted to be elected to the state senate. He knew that he was not a cop but a politician. He had let Henry Hakanen run the county's portion of the investigation, because he knew Henry was a good cop. He also knew that if anything went wrong, he had a readymade scapegoat. The phone call at four in the morning from the state headquarters of the BCA had threatened his plans. How could Henry let a BCA agent disappear? Jacob knew he had to fire Henry from the job but he had no idea who he could put in charge. He knew he wasn't able to do the job.

  Jacob entered the sheriff's station and into a maelstrom of activity. The station had turned into a way station for the out-of-town cops working the case. Jacob vaguely remembered giving permission for the BCA agents and the state highway patrol to use half of his office space, but he had never realized how many people that would mean.

  Jacob was only five feet, four inches. The average highway patrolman was six feet. A human barricade of waiting officers stopped him before the office area. From the other side of unwashed bodies, he heard Henry.

  "I want you to quickly and quietly get Jefferson away from his surroundings and into the interrogation room. We need to find out what he told Frank. We get him on our turf. We give him no opportunity to get mad or oriented. We give him no reason to resist our questioning and no chance to organize any lies. Vernon will handle the interview. We need to have someone in authority that Jefferson is unfamiliar with. I don't want Jefferson to be left alone. If he goes to the bathroom, you go with him. Four of you will be going to his house. Two will go in and pick him up; the other two, Mike and John, will go in after he leaves for the station and talk to his wife.

  "Now... "

  "Sorry, Henry, but I think you need to take this call," interrupted Nancy. "Makinen is on line two."

  "Hello, James, this is Henry ... What! ... How do you know ... Thanks."

  In a loud voice, Henry shouted, "Who's got the information on Billy

  Jones?"

  At nearly the same instant, another voice shouted, "We got Frank's

  car!"

  The bodies moved, pinning Jacob's face into a smelly armpit. He tried to talk, tried to move. The mass of bodies surged around him. Suddenly the mass broke for the doors, carrying him with them. Outside, the gas fumes from the starting patrol cars settled into the same pocket that he retreated to. Jacob stood lost and alone, breathing the leftover fumes. Suddenly realizing who they were searching for, he took a breath and smelled death in the air. He left. He knew he had no business here. At his home, he called the BCA and in his most authoritative voice told the BCA "We are doing our job and we're doing it right. Back off! Or we'll just have to see which side the reporters will take."

  Shaking, he poured himself a whiskey. He didn't know if he had done the right thing or not. He did know that he wasn't going to be out there with a killer on the loose. That is the job of a deputy, not the sheriff.

  * * * *

  James Makinen came in from his night watch. Unable to sleep, he started searching through the papers he got from the church. He found the church board's meeting notes. Every comment made by Shermon was studied. During the last year, the only comments Shermon made had to do with finances except for a recommendation that a wife's church membership be revoked for adultery. The year before that was the same, as well as the year before that and finally the year before that. On the second meeting after Shermon was elected a deacon, James finally found something. Shermon recommended a parishioner for membership. The parishioner, a William Jones, had moved from the town and church that Shermon had come from. The m
embership had been granted, although two other deacons had trouble remembering if Jones had ever attended a church service.

  William Jones. William Jones. Why did the name sound so familiar? William, William, Will, Bill, Billy ... Billy! Billy Jones! The man who glared at him and then avoided his eyes when he confronted Kawalski and Shermon. The man, Jim remembered, who watched him from the shadows. Jim remembered watching the kids during breaks or hall duty and seeing the man with his faded blue uniform standing in the doorway or the side of the hall glaring back at him. James knew! James realized he had known all along who it was. He had just never wanted to believe it.

  He picked up the phone. It was Henry's job to track the killer down. He was too tired. When he finished the call, he saw the others, Lori, Jeffrey, Marion, John, Ben, Bob and Betty.

  Marion said, "Billy Jones. He was at the VFW right after you asked for help, Jeff."

  "I always thought he was a little strange. But a killer?" Jeffrey replied.

  Lori, her face focused on the past stated, "It's Jones."

  The others nodded and drank more of their morning coffee.

  * * * *

  _The table, the hands, the cards and the single light. The dark room is silent as the next card is turned over._

  A lighted casement window with five yellow pentacles stands out on the bottom of the card. The scene is filled with snow. On the reversed card, a hunched man with a bell around his neck and a bandaged foot hobbles on homemade crutches behind a woman dressed in rags. Her head is bowed in the snow-filled night. Her bare feet leave meager prints in the fresh snow.

  _The still room asks the question the card presents._

  CHAPTER 17: The Five of Pentacles reversed

  Nicole had always been a bitch. Although her parents were well off, she had not been spoiled by money and toys but by the absolute belief in her words by her parents. The first time she realized she had power over her parents was when she got in a fight with another girl in pre-school. Suzy was playing with a doll that she wanted. When she told her she wanted the doll, Suzy refused to stop playing with it. Nicole pulled the doll from Suzy's arms and raked her fingernails across her face. Nicole laughed at the sight of blood on Suzy's face, even when the jolt of pain from Suzy hitting her in the nose radiated through her head. When her mother picked her up from school that day, she complained how Suzy hurt her. Her mother held her so close to her breast that her bruised nose started to throb. Nicole's mother promised to take care of everything, and by the next week, Suzy was not in class.

  The next time Nicole remembered using her control over her parents was in second grade. The teacher had been hired fresh from college. She was tough and wouldn't let Nicole get away with anything. Nicole came home every night for a month complaining how her teacher hated her. Nicole was transferred to another class and her parents hounded the teacher until she left the school at the end of the year.

  By the time Nicole was fourteen, she had her parents totally deceived and in her control. She was the envy of every girl in school. She went to any concert or game she wanted to. She would stay out late at night, even during the school week. She wore the latest style hair and clothes. All the boys wanted her. Of course, she didn't want them. They were too immature!

  In late spring that year, she heard about a keg party at a lake that the high school jocks were holding to celebrate the end of the school year.

  She had to go. She told her parents that she was staying with a girl friend for the weekend. She packed a backpack with her clothes and make-up. A quick discussion with her parents and they drove her out to a lake cabin that she claimed belonged to her friend's family but was only a half mile from the party.

  After her father dropped her off at the _supposed_ lake cabin of her friend, she walked down the road until she found an empty cottage. With a rock, she broke a window and climbed in. Inside she applied her make-up and dressed in a tight set of jeans, a satin blouse, and doused herself with some fifty dollar an ounce French perfume she'd stolen from her mother. It was still a quarter-mile walk to the site of the party. It was completely dark by the time she got there.

  Nicole savored the sights and sounds of her first unchaperoned teenage party. The music from a tricked out car stereo echoed down the road for most of her quarter-mile walk. As she got within a few hundred feet of the party, tendrils of bonfire smoke hung over cars parked along both sides of the road. Soon a scattering of partygoers surrounded her. Couples were laughing and talking. Some couples made out by the sides of the cars or in the nearby woods. A few cars moved up and down, seemingly of their own accord. A figure shrouded by the dark was throwing up his last beer and another closer to the bonfire urinated noisily against some bushes. As she entered the circle of light, a beer was handed to her and she started to drink.

  Nicole was spotted by a group of boys waiting off to the side. The group had prowled the keg parties for the last year, challenging themselves with wilder and wilder sexual exploits. A boy from the group soon had her drinking her second beer. Before the hour was up, three boys from the group led the staggering Nicole back into the woods where they had a van parked. The boys then took turns fucking her.

  Nicole was mostly unconscious by the time she got to the van. She was grateful to lie down. She barely noticed the first boy on her but somehow the primitive movement between her legs registered in her mind. She raised her legs and tried to move back in rhythm but failed. Every time a new body shoved itself between her legs her body tried to react until it was Dean's turn.

  Dean saw the sloppy mess between her legs and belched, "Can't any of you fucking idiots clean up after yourselves? Somebody get me a God damn beer!"

  Dean took the beer. Shook it. Stuck the foaming bottle up Nicole's vagina. As the beer washed away the sticky mass between her legs, Nicole tried to scream from the pain of the alcohol burning her raw abused tissues. All Nicole was able to do was a few sharp inhales of breath. A rough towel was used to wipe the last remaining drops of residue from between her legs. Nicole nearly made it back to full consciousness but then Dean entered her inflamed vagina. Beyond all reason, the tortured tissue delivered to Nicole her first orgasm. It would be her only clear memory of the night since drinking her first beer.

  The next day Nicole awoke in the back of a pickup belonging to an old man living halfway between the lake and town. She had been dumped there by the boys. She talked the old man into letting her clean up in his house before driving her into town. A little fast talk to her parents and they never suspected anything unusual ever happened that weekend. But she was scared and sore.

  Afraid to tell her mother about what had happened, she treated her inflamed tissues herself. She soaked for hours in the bathtub. She used various salves. Finally, later in the week when the healing of the flesh caused itching, she started to rub herself with a powerful antibiotic salve. The itching, the burning pain and the rubbing combined to give her a second, a third and a fourth orgasm. In her mind, the need to hurt to produce pleasure had been forged. She became an expert in both pleasure and pain. She loved to give it as well as receive. She would seduce younger boys in school, make them whimper in pain, and watch their faces when she left them for someone else.

  Her sadistic swath of sexual conquests continued until her senior year in college when she met Jeff. He was more than a match for her. She decided to marry him the night they destroyed his ex-girlfriend.

  Jeff left his apartment to pick up his ex-girlfriend on the pretext of getting back together. Nicole waited in his closet naked except for a dog choke collar around her neck and a small whip in her hands. Jeff brought his old girlfriend back to the apartment. A little wine and a little smooth talk and she was in bed with him. In the closet, Nicole used the whip on herself while Jeff slowly seduced the girl. He had regularly tied her to the bed before so the girl let herself be bound again. After she was strapped down, Nicole came out from hiding. Together they abused the girl through the night.

  Later in the week the
girl killed herself. That summer, Nicole and Jeff married. Nicole loved her marriage. Both shared their pleasure and pain with each other and the occasional innocent they caught. That was until a year or two ago. Jeff became a little bored with his job and it showed up in their bed. Nicole had been ready to leave him until just a few weeks ago when he came back from work rejuvenated. His thirst for pain and pleasure was unquenchable. Nicole planned to bring home a young girlfriend for them to enjoy, but everything started to fall apart. The murders and the investigation shook Jeff's assurance in himself. Nicole again planned to leave.

  Last night, Jeff's uncle showed up. In amazement, she heard him confess everything to him. After his uncle left, he paced through the night. Nicole fingered herself while she watched her husband's strength crumble before her eyes. He was completely broken by the time the cops arrived for him that morning.

  After Jeff left with the cops, Nicole started to pack. She had barely started when the doorbell rang. Two more cops wanted to talk to her about her husband. One was good looking. The other was ugly. Nicole knew she looked good to men. She paced the room in apparent nervousness in such a way as to accent her curves and sex. When she was sure they both were looking at what she was showing, she walked up to the ugly one and told them everything about her husband. She held the ugly cop's hands while she talked so he couldn't get away. As Nicole talked, she shifted her weight from foot to foot. From the corner of her eye, she watched a bead of sweat form on the ugly man's face as she brushed the inside of her thigh and the tip of her breasts against him. At the same time, she maintained a direct eye contact with the good-looking cop.

  After the cops left, Nicole added to her bags the handcuffs she stole from the ugly man. In a slight way, Nicole wanted to stay; both cops showed some potential for fun. Instead, she finished packing. At Jeff's bank, she withdrew all of their money and from the safety deposit box, she took everything but Jeff's birth certificate. She left the bank and drove south.