by Joel Jenkins
He said, “Miriam has asked me to find you. She cannot find her way.”
Why strange? You see, my wife, my dear, sweet, lovely Miriam, has been dead for ten long years.
And I am responsible for her death.
6
Mount Airy Eagle
Late Edition, Sunday, May 10th
Flood Waters Threaten Town
“Worst Flooding in Decades,” Say Some
After a pronounced rain storm that lasted nearly six days without cessation, the Airy River rose beyond record levels and flooded the entire area of Mount Airy and neighboring villages. Though now subsided, the flooding has caused widespread property damage as well as robbing several townspeople of their lives.
The first day of flooding brought the deluge to homesteads along the riverbank, but by the second day it had reached Mount Airy proper. Mayor Spinnett called for emergency measures to insure public safety and asked that all able-bodied men assemble in the town square to build several bulwarks against the spread of the flood. It is estimated that one-hundred and twenty men answered that call and worked for nearly seventy-two hours to clear the area of citizens and to construct walls and reinforce existing structures.
Many longtime residents of Mount Airy said that they had never seen such flooding before.
The Mount Airy Fire Department was called to the scene of at least two fires that broke out due to electrical wiring exposed to the flood waters. One Fireman, George Masters, expired from injuries he sustained while fighting a blaze at Michaels Bakery on High Street, while three of his fellows were hospitalized due to their injuries at the same location.
Noted “spirit-breaker” Sgt. Roman Janus of Raynham Road was seen attending Fireman Masters alongside two physicians at the scene of the fire, though it is not currently known whether or not the man had expired by that time. Moments after Masters was removed from the site, Sgt. Janus was witnessed aiding workers who were building a temporary dam along Mason Avenue, where he remained for at least twenty-four hours.
One of the worst scenes of destruction brought about by the flood waters was at the cemetery of St. Barnabas Church on the east side of Mount Airy. Graves and mausoleums, some of them dating to one-hundred years old or more, were washed away by the flooding, as well as trees, fencing, and sheds. The priests of St. Barnabas report that more than eighty of the ninety-seven graves encompassed by the cemetery have been disturbed and, they fear, are unrecoverable. The Church is calling for help from the community to search for remains and artifacts.
Mayor Spinnett will speak on this matter and on other efforts to rebuild areas damaged by the flood tomorrow, Monday the 11th, at Town Hall.
6
I have done many things in my life of which I am not proud; it would be pointless to go into them here and now. Perhaps they will all be revealed when I am gone, but suffice to say that I had long answered to a certain individual and had done his dark bidding, which quite often entailed the destruction of his enemies and of their assumed plots against him. In return, I had been rewarded with creature comforts and had seen much of the wide world.
But I had never truly been a happy man—until I met Miriam. Miriam changed everything.
She was not well in her own mind; I see that plainly now, but for the first year of our marriage it was not clear at all and I suffered many a day and night in confusion over it. You see, Miriam was not always herself and she could become easily lost, both in physical space and in spirit. But I loved her, oh Lord how I loved her, and we crafted a semblance of a life together despite her illness and my being a very, very bad man. I kept her hidden away from the prying eyes of the world and, so I thought at the time, from my master.
One day, after a particularly onerous night of Miriam’s wanderings, I spoke a word to my master after receiving his orders, the likes of which he was greatly unfamiliar:
“No.”
And then I left his presence and wandered myself for a time and then returned to my home and there found my beautiful, lost wife dead.
This is what may transpire when a very bad man tells his very bad master “no.”
That was ten years ago. Since that deeply evil day I have endeavored to be a good man. Oh, I know that the stain on my soul can never be fully scoured away, but I tried to slow its spread and lighten its dark ichor with deeds I, perhaps foolishly, deemed good. The Lord knows I tried - if he hasn’t abandoned me all together—and I comforted myself in thinking that Miriam, wherever she wandered after death, also knew I tried.
So, in May, knee-deep in flood waters, I found myself looking into the queerly crystal eyes of a man I did not know and heard him tell me that my wife was searching for me from Beyond, and that she was lost. It played well with me superficially, the words like a topical balm, all pleasing and cool to the touch, but I looked at Mount Airy’s famous Sgt. Janus and, with the cries and moans of the victims of the flood all around me, asked him what it was that I should do about it. And Sgt. Janus asked me in return to come directly with him to his home and talk to Miriam, to help her find her way.
Standing in the filthy waters which pooled around my legs and my muscles screaming from my exertions, I spoke a word to the Sergeant the likes of which he may or may not have been greatly unfamiliar:
“No.”
6
Mount Airy Eagle
Early Edition - Tuesday, May 29th
‘Spirit-Breaker’ Nabs Crooks
Two Persons Accused of Robbery
At approximately 3:40 on the morning of May 29, Mount Airy police officers took one Kenneth Shabbinski of No. 8 Lionel Street into custody. He was subsequently charged at the Jehovah Precinct Station with breaking-and-entering and assault. Mr. Shabbinski was seen to have had bruising on his face and a broken finger on his left hand.
Deputy Police Commissioner Domple reported that officers were called to the Playdium Theater at 1958 Front Street in the early morning hours by a complaint from the owner of a neighboring establishment, the Bells & Whistles. The complaint concerned “strange noises, like moans and shrieks” issuing from the Playdium. The complainant, who had stayed open late for the holiday, said that he knew the Theater had closed for the night and that no such noises should be heard on its premises while not open for business.
Upon entering the premises, the officers encountered one Sgt. Roman Janus of No. 4 Raynham Road who claimed he was “investigating a spirit infestation” at the Playdium. The officers recognized the sergeant as Mount Airy’s well-known “spirit-breaker,” a reputed hunter of ghosts, and a frequent police consultant. Having determined that Janus was not the source of the reported noises, they were then confronted with Mr. Shabbinski and a lady friend, Miss Adeline Montrose of no fixed address. The gentlemen told the officers that he and Miss Montrose had been imbibing heavily not an hour or so before and that they had “slipped into the Theater for a bit of fun.” He further explained that this was the source of the odd sounds heard by the owner of the Bells & Whistles. Sgt. Janus then reportedly informed the officers that Mr. Shabbinski was, in fact, lying and that he was on the premises to rob the Playdium’s box office of its receipts. These accusations were supported, said Janus, by “messages from the spirit world,” given to the Sergeant on the spot.
Mr. Shabbinski took umbrage to the accusations and assaulted the Sergeant. Before the officers could act, Janus had defended himself and produced bruising on his assailant’s face and broken his finger. Mr. Shabbinski was then taken into custody and later charged. Miss Montrose was also apprehended and charged with aiding and abetting. Bail has not yet been set for either of the accused.
After the incident, Sgt. Janus told the police that “the Playdium is a vortex of immeasurable super-natural proportions” and that it “must be sealed off for fear of further spirit infiltration.” He also noted that he very strongly believed the recent flood’s destruction at the nearby cemetery of St. Barnabas Church was a likely reason for said infiltration. Though reconstruction of the cemetery con
tinues at this time, there have been no disturbances of any kind reported by the priests of the church involving the disturbed graves and mausoleums.
Sgt. Janus could not be reached for further comment on the matter.
6
I will explain.
As I have said, I loved my wife and hold myself responsible for her death. Her face still haunts my thoughts, but after ten long years without her I have found something resembling peace over her absence. She led a harsh life, her sanity waxing and waning and her days filled with anxiety and fear, but Miriam is in a better place now; I believe that. I have to believe that. And that is why I told the so-called “spirit-breaker” that, in no uncertain terms, I would not come at his beck and call to fall back into that all-too-familiar spiral of pain and misery.
Miriam - if it were indeed my wife that spoke to Janus—would understand. That, too, I believed.
Janus looked at me with a queer expression on his roughly handsome face, as if noting a glimmer of insanity in my own eyes, but, without further word, he turned on his heel and walked away. I watched his retreat for several minutes then gathered my coat and other things and returned to my simple home, hidden away from the eyes of the world and my former master. Or so I thought.
That was May. I half-expected to hear from Janus again—was he not known to be dogged and persistent in his “crusade” to help those vexed by spirits? How I figured into this profession of his I did not now then, but alas, he did not come ’round again.
That is, until just yesterday when the crisp November air brought a letter from him.
In it, he told me that Miriam had once again made contact with him and that her “misplaced steps are leading her farther and farther into chaos” and I was to come at once to Janus House. After reading the letter one, two, three times, I crumpled it into a ball and flung it into the fire and watched it burn.
I was livid, consumed by rage as I sat there. I was also filled with…dread? For what? I do not know. I had never been afraid of anything before, having lived and worked at the side of a master criminal, but perhaps having subsequently lived with my head down, peering around corners and cloaked in shadows for a decade, had taken its toll with me. But I was also angry, and anger has always fueled me. Oh, yes, a good heated bout of rage can do wonders for my gumption.
I threw on my coat and headed out with Janus House as my destination and murder on my mind.
6
The Mount Airy Eagle
Early Edition – Tuesday, June 2nd
About Town with Yours Truly
I can’t tell you how simply divine it is to be sitting down with you once again, Dear Readers. And today, though my missive to you is short, I believe it to be exceedingly sweet. Read on!
My travels took me to a very special place yesterday and it’s taken me almost a full day to recover from the sojourn. Why, you ask? Surely Yours Truly is made of sterner stuff, not some wilting wallflower who faints at even a hint of toils and travels, eh? Well, Dear Readers, you are correct in that, but this particular journey took me to a destination unlike any Yours Truly has ever visited before: the home of an infamous resident of our little hamlet.
Once inside S.R.J.’s abode – oh, I was chaperoned, have no fear – my eyes were everywhere at once. The outside of the manse is treat enough, if you like an eclectic mix of architecture that appears to be cobbled together from many different and often discordant styles and all that, but the inside…oh my! That defies description, though I will try, Dear Readers; I will try for your precious and curious sakes.
S.R.J. ushered me over the threshold—he’s still a bachelor, girls!—and into a pretty little sitting room off the impressive foyer. There, he offered me a luxurious settee on which to set my wondrous little self and once he was settled beside me—oh, golly—we gazed at an immense stone fireplace across the room. Was it romantic, Dear Readers? Propriety keeps me from answering that, you wicked little things…but between you and me, S.R.J. is even more delish up close than he is from afar. If you like the soldier type, that is. I find that I do.
Anyway, while we chatted amiably about a certain charity auction that Yours Truly is heading up in two weeks time—more on that later—I marveled at the unique room’s sights and sounds. Oh, yes, sounds! There were sounds galore, from singing off in the distance to the clatter of kitchen utensils and even the whispers of conversations seemingly in other adjoining rooms. But, S.R.J. lives alone, or so we are led to believe! Curiouser and curiouser, Dear Readers, but let’s not stop here—read on!
As we spoke on fairly dry matters like objets d’art and such things, my host came over all strangely. Why, at one point I thought he might have drifted off to sleep, a situation that Yours Truly can reassure you, friends, has never happened to the very least of my male companions. Let’s be clear on that! But, S.R.J.’s face took on a queer cast, as if he was focused on something far away, something that, well, disturbed him, or at least unsettled him enough to tear his eyes away from my delicious ensemble, Clara Bow eyes and bee-stung lips.
While we chatted amiably I marveled at the unique room’s sights and sounds.
Did we continue talking after that? No, Dear Readers, for my host stood up suddenly, looked around the room, and then reaching out for me took my hand and saw me to the front door of his strange and terrifying house. Terrifying? Yes, in some ways. It had grown darker as we continued our tête-à-tête and settled all over chilly when S.R.J. took notice of something other than Yours Truly. And, incredible though it may sound, several hours had passed while I was there, though it seemed to be only twenty minutes or so!
Astounding, yes? Oh, I know, Dear Readers, I know. I was there.
Still, I don’t hold his behavior against him. S.R.J. has always been an odd duck, if I may say so. And I may so because it’s my column, right?
Come back tomorrow and we shall speak of other things. Things decidedly warmer, you naughty little boys and girls. You know how it gets around here…
Ta!
6
It took me until this very morning, almost an entire day, to find a driver who would take me out to Janus House, which sits on the outskirts of Mount Airy.
In that time my anger cooled a bit and I was able to compose myself for the journey – and for facing Janus. I had words for him to hear, and strong ones, but I believed I could deliver them with a relatively rational tongue in my head. After I arrived at the house and began to slog through the mounting snow up the long path to its front door, my anger returned, though, and it was only due to the unexpected sight of the Sergeant himself waiting for me on his front porch that kept me from taking a poke at him.
I opened my mouth to remonstrate Janus for his bothering me with supposed messages from Miriam when he held up one hand, smiled, and then reached out to take my own hand in greeting. Something about his demeanor brought me up short and I meekly shook his offered hand. Nodding silently, he ushered me inside Janus House as if he and I were old friends.
The insides of his mansion were dark. I didn’t know what to expect, having heard many wild tales of the mansion’s particulars, and I could make out precious little in the gloom to confirm or deny them. Janus explained that the house was being “cleaned” and seemed to think that a sound enough reason for the darkness. I turned to him in the shadowy foyer and demanded to know why he persisted in approaching me about Miriam.
“She is lost, as I have endeavored to tell you,” he said simply. “Your wife is quite lost and even my own abilities are not enough to shed enough light to illuminate the path to her designated resting place.”
Before I could speak again, he continued. “You see,” he whispered, nodding, “her mind has not healed, even beyond the grave, as is customary. It was…shredded when she was very young, and the damage was of an extent that it was a wonder she was able to function at all into adulthood. Perhaps some credit for that was due to your very great love and depth of feeling for her.”
I was stunned. I came to Janus
House with thoughts of malice in my head and here the Sergeant had defused me completely with just a few words. Knocked back on my heels, I stammered out a reply.
“Shredded?” I asked, confused. “By what?”
“Spirits,” said Janus, his cool eyes searching mine. “Selfish, vengeful spirits…”
6
Sandor,
I have arrived in Mount Airy and have taken a room at a small inn near the center of town. Amazingly, there are little to no signs of the flooding, despite it being only two months after the event. To their credit, the townspeople have managed to rebuild their home in record time.
Once settled and waiting a day before venturing out, I walked to the cemetery. It is just as we had heard—all praise The Nameless One! Perhaps now, finally, we may begin the rites, after all this time.
The ground there is level, though I suspect it was not so before the flood. Few stones remain and those that do are for the most part still not set to right. Only one mausoleum is standing – the name on it is “Yanuse” – but I could see the foundations of at least six more. There are open graves – all praise He Who Waits!
As I walked the perimeter of the cemetery, I grew emboldened, forgive me, and approached a priest who was drifting among the plots. He was a wretched sort, all smiles and rosy cheeks and a twinkle in his eyes, and it was all I could do not to strike him down where he stood. Instead, I asked of the recovery of the site and he happily informed me of the church’s operations. The man grew even more gregarious when I hinted that I might lean toward a charitable donation to their efforts.
I left him to go about his duties—whatever those were—and left the cemetery. Later, after sunset, I returned to the grounds and gathered samples of grave soil and a few bits of broken tombstone—all praise The Multi-Horned Ram!
When I feel that the time is right, I will begin to impede the church’s progress and perhaps even murder one of the priests. That may help in the rites, though I admit it’s a bit theatrical.
