Cemetery Club (20 page)

In retrospect, his parents had been right. She hadn’t been worth the effort, hadn’t been smart enough to realize how lucky she’d been.

And now she flaunts her new man, as if she’d never been happier.

It just wasn’t right. It made him - Jack Smith the Deputy Mayor - look bad, because if people saw that Marisol was happier without him, they’d start to think that maybe some of the things she’d said were true, that Jack Smith might not be the nice guy everyone thought he was. He’d gone to great lengths to cultivate his public image and he’d be damned if some two-bit spic from the Lowlands was going to tarnish it.

No, in order to keep things right, it was necessary that Marisol’s public face be a sad one. Or at least untrustworthy.

Which meant it was time to put the heat on Mister Cory Miles and his friends.

His lips pursed in grim concentration, Jack pulled out his Blackberry and dialed his assistant
.

Cory closed his cell phone and turned to Todd Randolph. “Marisol’s still in the lab. She said that when she finishes her work, she’ll call me so I can drive her home.” He looked at his watch. “It’s only nine; the library doesn’t open for another hour. What do you want to do until then?”

Todd wiped his mouth. They’d just finished a quick breakfast of coffee and donuts Cory had picked up from the bakery and taken back to Todd’s house. John was already in Todd’s study Googling reported cases of alien abduction and possession in the New York Tri-State Area.

“I’d like to go to the police station and talk with Chief Travers. I think it’s time we came clean about what happened in high school. Maybe something we know will help him with his investigation.”

“You think Travers will talk to us?” Cory rolled his eyes. “The man’s as stubborn as a two-year-old. He wouldn’t believe something supernatural was going on if a zombie came up and bit him on the ass. Which almost happened last night, from what Marisol told me.”

Todd shrugged and downed the rest of his coffee before answering. “We owe him the opportunity to listen. If there’s the slightest chance something we know prevents someone else from being killed...” His words tailed off and he stared at Cory, an earnest expression on his face.

“What the hell. We’ll go see him. Marisol’s lab is right next door anyhow.”

“I’ll tell John,” Todd said. Before he could leave the kitchen, Abigail Clinton came downstairs.

“Mister Todd? You get those medicines for your mother?”

Todd patted his shirt pocket. “I’ve got the prescriptions right here. I’ll drop them off today. She’s still got enough for a few days.”

“You sure? I can do.” The home health aide held out her hand.

“No, that’s okay. Cory and I are going out for a few hours anyhow.”

“Okay Mister Todd.” She turned and went back upstairs.

“How’s your mom doing?” Cory asked.

Todd sighed. “Not good. The drugs keep her pretty much out of it most of the time. She doesn’t even get out of bed anymore. And my arrest didn’t help.”

“I’m sorry man. That sucks.” Cory stood by the table for a minute, coffee in hand, not knowing what else to say. Losing his own parents had been a tragedy that left a big hole in his life, but he’d always been comforted by the fact that death had been quick and painless for them. The idea of watching a loved one slowly fade away like Todd’s mother was doing, it seemed wrong somehow. He didn’t know how Todd could stand it, especially considering he’d never had the chance to spend much time with her when she was healthy.

Thanks to us.

“Yeah. It does.” Todd turned away and started cleaning the table.

Cory waited another moment, in case his friend had something else to say, then left the room when the silence began gaining the heavy weight of awkwardness.

As he walked down the hall to the study, it struck him that all four members of the Cemetery Club had lost their parents. The only ones left were Todd’s mother, clinging to life by her aged fingernails, and Marisol’s father, who’d left town - and possibly the country - not long after she’d graduated high school. She assumed he was still alive, since she’d never heard anything from Social Security about his passing away.

“Probably rotting in a jail cell somewhere,” she’d said when he’d asked her about it. The deep bitterness in her voice stopped him from pursuing the matter.

I wonder if there’s any significance to that,
he thought, as he walked up the stairs.
None of us are even forty yet.
It sure was an odd coincidence that six out of eight of their parents were not only dead but had died young. And when it came to the Cemetery Club and Rocky Point, he had a feeling there were no coincidences.

*  *  *

The first surprise Cory got when they arrived at the police station was finding Chief Travers alone in his office. The second was when the Chief looked up at Cory’s knock, saw them, and still motioned for them to enter.

“Take a seat,” Travers said, gesturing towards the two uncomfortable wooden chairs by his desk. “What can I do for you?”

Cory eyed the police chief carefully, alert for some kind of trick. But try as he might, he couldn’t see any malice in the man’s square face, only a weariness expressed in gray pallor, dark bags under the eyes and hair that looked as if it hadn’t been combed that morning. Even his mustache seemed unkempt.

“You look like you could use some sleep,” Cory said, then wished he could’ve taken the words back. The last thing he wanted to do was antagonize the man.

Travers gave him a half-hearted glare, his breath escaping in a long, drawn-out sigh. “Tell me something I don’t know.” He rubbed his eyes with his fists. When he stopped, they were more bloodshot than when he’d started, but they had also regained a little of their customary fire. “I’m busy Mister Miles, as you might have guessed. I hope you didn’t just drop by to shoot the shit.”

“Actually, we wanted to talk about the murders,” Todd said.

“What about them?” Travers looked at Todd the way most people look at Jehovah’s Witnesses when they came to the front door.

“Not the current murders, the ones twenty years ago. We think there are some, uh, facts about them you might not know, facts that might be helpful with what’s been happening lately.”

Travers scowled. “Well, if anyone knows about how those poor people died it would be you, wouldn’t it?”

Todd gave a slow nod of his head. “Yes, you’re right Chief, but not in the way you think you are. I didn’t kill any of those people, just like I haven’t killed anyone the past few days. But I hold myself responsible just the same.”

“Not just him,” Cory added. “All four of us played a part.”

Travers stared at them, his gaze suddenly alert. “What do you mean?”

Cory looked at Todd, who nodded. “We agreed to tell him everything.”

“It’s like this,” Cory said. “We - Todd, myself, Marisol and John Boyd - did something twenty years ago, something we shouldn’t have done. But we were just kids, we didn’t know better.”

“We didn’t believe,” Todd interrupted.

“Believe in what?” Travers asked, his gaze darting from Todd to Cory and back again.

“The supernatural.” Todd’s face remained impassive as the Chief’s eyes went wide and then narrowed in anger.

“What the fuck are you doing, wasting my time with this bullshit? Get the fuck out of here!”

“Chief, listen to him.” Cory leaned forward. “It’s true. We were messing around in the cemetery, using a Ouija Board. We...made contact with something. It scared the shit out of us and we ran away. But the next day...”

“The next day the first murder happened,” Todd finished. “And they went on all summer long, until we stopped them.”

“
You
stopped them?” Travers looked from Todd to Cory and back again. “You? Not the police who worked their asses off day and night. You did it. Four teenagers who spent more time stoned than awake, from what I remember.”

Cory ignored the sarcasm. “That’s right. In fact, it was Todd who put an end to things.”

“And I suppose being found with the half-eaten bodies of the victims was part of solving the case?”

“We went into the tunnels and confronted the demons,” Todd said. “I used Holy water and the Bible. The tunnel collapsed. When they found me—”

“You mean, when they caught you,” a new voice said. “The police - the real heroes - captured a sick little bastard and put him where he belonged. In the nuthouse.”

Cory jerked around and saw Jack Smith standing in the doorway. Cory started to rebut the accusation but Smith kept talking, raising his voice over Cory’s.

“Say Chief. Did you know that while Mister Randolph was in Wood Hill, they fried his brain? Gave him the ol’ zapper-oo? Or that he allowed himself to be used as a guinea pig for experimental drugs? I’ve got copies of his medical records in my office, if you want to see them.”

“Those were confidential,” Todd said.

“Confidentiality doesn’t apply to murder suspects.”

“That’s enough!” Cory shouted. “Everyone has rights and if you violated his—” He started to get up from his chair but Todd placed a hand on his arm.

“It’s okay Cory. He’s right.”

“What?”

“When I was in the sanitarium, they did do shock treatments on me. Three times I think. And I willingly took part in several pharmaceutical protocols during my time there. The drugs were simply new types of sedatives, not narcotics or hallucinogens. And by agreeing to participate in the trials I earned special privileges, such as extra library time and a chance to work in the kitchen.”

“How ‘bout that Chief? Right from the horse’s mouth. Any wonder he’s talking about demons living under the city? He’s as nutty now as the day they took him away.” The Deputy Mayor leaned against the door frame, a shit-eating grin plastered across his face.

Travers, who’d been looking back and forth between Smith and Todd as they spoke, finally opened his mouth. “Mister Randolph, I appreciate you and Mister Miles coming down here today. But I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave now.”

Cory leaned forward, his hands on the Chief’s desk. “We’re telling the truth. There was something under the ground that day, something - I don’t know if it was supernatural or not - that killed all those people. And —”

“That’s enough Miles.” Travers held up one hand. “It doesn’t matter what you saw. It doesn’t matter if you’re telling the truth, full of shit or just plain crazy like your friend. Fact is, I can’t trust anything either of you tell me. He’s spent the past twenty years in the loony bin and you’re too personally involved in the case, as his lawyer and the Flores woman’s lover. Neither of you are credible as witnesses in any shape or form. Now, unless you have some real hard evidence you can show me, instead of all this hearsay and crazy talk, you’re gonna have to leave me to my work.”

“Please, you’ve got to listen to us.”

“Yes, listen to him Chief. He’s got a real good team. A mental patient, a homeless drunk and a lab tech who can’t keep her pants on. Quite a crew. Maybe you should hire them.”

Travers didn’t even have the decency to cover his mouth when he laughed. “You heard me. Get out of here.”

Cory shook his head. “You’re making a big mistake. C’mon, Todd, let’s go.”

“Yes, go hunt some demons or something and leave the real work to the police,” Smith said with a snicker, as he moved aside to let Todd and Cory exit the office.

“I know why you’re doing this,” Cory said. “But just because you have a problem with me, don’t let innocent people suffer the consequences.”

Smith stepped into the hall and shut the door before replying. “Listen, Mr. Fancy-Pants lawyer. You messed with the wrong guy. I’m making it my personal mission to make life a living hell for you and your wacko friends. This is just the beginning.” He turned and walked down the hall, flashing his best campaign smile as he said hello to the police officers he passed.

Cory started after him but Todd grabbed his arm. “Don’t Cory. All you’ll do is get in more trouble. Smith runs this town, probably more so than the actual Mayor. Best thing to do is lay low and hope he gets too busy to worry about us.”

“Too busy?” Cory stared at Todd. “If he’s too busy, it’ll be because those things are killing more people.”

Todd slowly nodded. “I know. Believe me, I know.”

“So what do we do now?”

They were gathered around Todd’s kitchen table. John, who’d posed the question to the group, was nursing his third soda of the day, on top of several cups of coffee. Todd didn’t say anything, figuring if the caffeine fix helped him keep the DTs away it was an acceptable solution, even if John’s hands constantly shook so much he was in danger of spilling soda all over the table.

“Maybe we should do what the Chief said and stay out of it. Serve ‘em all right,” Marisol said. She’d already informed them of the test results she’d obtained in the lab. As she’d predicted, no traces of drugs or alcohol had been found in the dead body, nor in the blood left behind by the two men who’d gotten away. Of course, Marisol knew that wouldn’t mean anything to Travers. He’d just say that maybe the tech had been straight but stealing drugs for his friends who were high on some new, undetectable kind of drug.

She’d filed her report with the ME and then gone straight to Todd’s house with him and Cory, where Todd had filled everyone in on the events in the Chief’s office.

“How can you say that?” Todd asked. “This is our town too. Just because Travers and Smith are being assholes doesn’t mean the whole town should suffer.”

“There are still some good people here,” John added.

“Good enough to sacrifice ourselves for?” Marisol looked around the table. “Good enough to risk our lives for?”

“We have to do what we can,” Cory said.

Marisol glared at him. “Why?”

“Because it’s our fault,” Todd said in a low voice.

“Exactly.” Cory pointed to each of them in turn as he spoke. “We all share the guilt for what’s happening. We started it. It’s up to us to finish it, for good this time.”