Eleven Days (19 page)

My mother had called, and was having trouble with her heart again, and had been admitted to the local hospital for observation. Damn.

Sue’s brother Jack had called, too, and was coming to visit from Minnesota. Good! Jack was an attorney, and one of my favorite people. He would be in the next Saturday. I could talk the entire case over with him and he
would never tell a soul. And he would offer excellent suggestions. Good deal.

I rushed through the shower and shave, and threw on my uniform. I called the office and told them that I would be up in a while, but that there was an individual at the hospital I had to talk to first. Didn’t say who. It was best that way, because if they thought it was official business they would be less likely to bother me with little things until I told them I was back in service. If they knew it was Mom, on the other hand, they would feel free to call her room. I didn’t want that.

Mom looked pretty pale. IVs, but no oxygen. Heart monitor going in the background. She was watching TV.

“Hi, there, kiddo,” I said. “How you doin’?”

“Oh! Hello, well, you didn’t have to come up.”

“Just in the neighborhood. How you feeling?”

“Just fine.”

“Obviously.”

“Well, my heart has been doing funny things, but Henry says it’s not too serious. But you know how I worry, after the heart attack.”

“Yeah. You’re looking pretty good.”

“Oh no I’m not. My hair is a mess.”

“Well, that’s okay. It looks good to me, anyway.”

We talked for a while. She was, of course, more worried about me and my tap on the head. I told her it was nothing, and that I was okay, and all that. She was worried about my job, and the dangers. I reassured her that there was no danger at all, and if there was, I would avoid it.

“You didn’t raise any dummy, Mom.”

She smiled. Obligatory. Didn’t believe a word I said.

Then she asked about the case. I told her I couldn’t say anything, and she said that she understood. Well, she might have understood, but she didn’t like it. After all, what was the use of having a son in my line of work if he won’t tell you anything?

“I can tell you that you’re in no danger, unless you have a pact with the devil or something.”

“Everybody’s worried, you know.”

“I know they are, Mom. But I don’t think they have to be.”

“One of them worked here, you know,” she whispered.

“Well, everybody has to work someplace.”

“But … come closer … maybe there are others,” she hissed.

Now, here’s a quandary, I thought. My mother, a heart patient, worried about Satanic nurses, with some grounds to feel that way. What can I tell her to make it all right?

I leaned back. “Don’t worry. Really. I can’t tell you why, but the rest of the staff here had nothing to do with it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. The rest of the staff here are really nice people, they really are. They were as shocked as anybody else, believe me. They had nothing to do with that business.”

“Thank you,” said a soft feminine voice from behind me.

I turned around. A small, dark-haired nurse, with enormous eyes, about twenty-five, was standing in the door.

“Well, uh, you’re welcome.”

She went to Mom and checked her pulse, asked if everything was all right. Mother, being a mother, introduced me. The nurse was named Lori Phillips, according to her tag. I didn’t know her.

“You don’t have to worry, Mom, until Lori here comes in a black uniform with candles in her hands.”

Mom laughed. Lori didn’t. It really hadn’t occurred to me that the hospital would take a hit on this case, but I could tell that they had. Understandable. And in a small community, with a predominantly older population, that could be serious. Rural hospitals are always in financial trouble, anyway, and if the patients weren’t comfortable, they could really get hurt.

Lori left as quietly as she came.

“I didn’t see her,” said Mom. “You were in the way, I guess.”

“I didn’t even hear her. Well, look, I have to be leaving, so take care of yourself. I’ll drop up tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to, I know how busy you must be.”

“Oh, I think I can find the time.”

I kissed her on the cheek and left.

Nurse Lori collared me in the hall.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Sure.”

“In here,” she said, indicating a small room with a table and a couple of chairs. “I’ll be with you in a minute.”

It was the nurses’ lounge, apparently. A sweater draped over a chair, plastic furniture, no ashtray. A coffeepot on a small stand, and a couple of travel posters on the wall. The coffeepot intrigued me. It was pretty clear that the nurses didn’t like the hospital coffee, either. I made a mental note that, the next time I brought a victim in at 3:00
A.M.
, I’d check this place for coffee before trying the kitchen. They also had a Tupperware bucket of homemade cookies.

Lori came back with an older nurse in tow. Her I knew from a previous stay of my own. Nice, gave the impression of being very stable and levelheaded. About forty, stocky. Curly hair. Named Carrie something.

They both looked concerned and anxious. They shut the door.

“We have a little problem,” said Carrie.

“What’s that?”

They looked at each other. “It’s about Phyllis,” said Carrie.

“What about her?”

“Well, when she … when it all happened, we were pretty shook. Things didn’t happen quite the way they were supposed to. Anyway, we remembered her locker, so, well, we decided to take the things out of it, and we
thought that they should be turned over to the next of kin. It’s not like we were snooping or anything …”

“That’s fine. I’ll just give you a receipt, and we’ll take care of it.”

“No, that’s not it.”

“What, then?”

They exchanged glances again.

“We found this,” said Carrie, and reached under her cardigan and produced a spiral notebook. She handed it to me.

It was thin, the kind you find anywhere. Light blue cover, with the brand name on the front. And in black ink, very carefully drawn, was the word “
GRYMNYAR
.” Below it was a star, point down, within a circle. Very finely drawn. On the lower right-hand corner was the name “Phyllis H.”

I leafed through it quickly. It was a sort of a diary, with dates, events, things like that. A couple of sketches. Several pages appeared to be oaths, or something of the sort.

“I think I’d better keep this.”

I went to my car and put the book in the trunk. I came back in, gave Carrie a receipt for the notebook, and obtained a written statement from both of them, detailing how it had come into their possession.

“Are we going to have to get involved in this?” asked Lori.

“You’re sort of involved already. But, no, not really, I don’t think. I don’t know, though.”

“Will we have to testify?” asked Carrie.

I grinned at her. “Not unless we solve this one.”

Lori looked up at me with those enormous dark eyes. “Do you know who did it?”

“We have some idea,” I said. What I didn’t say was that we had it narrowed down to a human.

“I hope you get him soon.”

“So do we.” She looked pretty concerned. “Listen, if you’re spooked or anything, just call the office. Ask for
one of us to come up. If you have any cookies left, ask for me personally.”

“All right.”

“By the way, have you been interviewed regarding this case at all? Except now?”

“No.”

“Well, I have the feeling you will be.”

I went directly to the office, grabbed the notebook out of the trunk, and told the dispatcher that I would be a little busy for a while. I turned on the Xerox machine and put on a pot of coffee. My first task was to copy the notebook: it was going to have to go in as evidence, and I wanted to be able to read it at my leisure. I also had the feeling that, as soon as it was submitted, it would disappear into DCI and never come back.

We had a box of surgical gloves in the evidence room, to be used when dusting for prints—not so much to keep your prints off the surface being examined as to keep the damned dust off your hands. I put a pair on and Xeroxed the little notebook. There were only about fifty pages that had been used, out of about a hundred.

When I was finished, I put my copy in a manila envelope and took it out to my car. I came back in, called the motel, and asked for Hal. I told him what I had, and asked him and Hester to come to the office. He said they would.

Then I told Sally to get hold of Art on the radio and see if he could meet me at the office within an hour.

I kept my gloves on, and using a toothpick to turn the pages, I began to read the notebook. The first page was sort of a title sheet: “The Recording of the Progress of the Coven of the Dark Messiah.” Oh brother. “The Second Book. The Chronicle of Our Journey to Become One with the Prince of Darkness, As Recorded by Shade, a Humble Servant of Your Spirit. From the 11th Day of September to”—with no final date. That was understandable.

The second page listed the members of the group. Unfortunately they were listed by their coven names. They were: Darkness, Virgil, Shade, Dark Princess, Handmaiden, Soothsayer, Benefactor, Nathane, Mystic Fog, Shaman, Dusk, Mist Queen, and Dirge, in that order.

Darkness we already knew about, and since he was first, it was a confirmation that he was the high priest. Shade was pretty obviously Phyllis Herkaman. Eleven to go.

On page three, the chronicle began with the date of September 11.

“The preparations for the ultimate sacrifice continue. All will be complete by the anniversary of the birth of the ultimate fool and the great misleader. Handmaiden will provide. Darkness approaches communion. The Benefactor has achieved.”

That’s as far as I got when Hal, Hester, and Saperstein came in the door.

“You got something?” asked Hal.

“Oh,” I said, “I believe so.” I turned the book back to the title page and pushed it across the desk. “From Phyllis Herkaman’s locker at the hospital.”

I pulled off my gloves and lit a cigarette, while they read the first page and used my toothpick to turn to the second and third.

“We might need a translator,” I said.

Saperstein looked up. “Not too hard. I would have expected it to be encoded—at least a different alphabet.”

Hal indicated the first entry. “How about this?”

Saperstein looked at the page. “Okay, an ultimate sacrifice is a human sacrifice. The birthday of the ultimate fool is Christmas. Whoever Handmaiden is, is going to bring the victim. Probably use sexual favors to attract somebody and get them out to the scene of the sacrifice. Darkness is preparing himself to conduct the ritual, by meditation and secondary rituals. Benefactor has finally become a full-fledged member of the group, which means that he has participated in their final initiation ceremony. That would require, by the way, that all members be present.”

He smiled at us. “Like I said, it’s easy.”

“Maybe for you.”

Art came in. “What you got?”

I told him.

“They change shifts at the hospital at eleven?”

“I think so.”

“We’d better get both those nurses,” said Art, “and get an interview done tonight. At shift change.”

“Good idea,” said Hal.

It was 21:40. “I’ll call them now,” I said. “They may have to make arrangements and let their family know they’ll be a little late.”

I picked up the phone, then put it down. “Hey, I’ll bet that the one called Benefactor is McGuire. Even money.” I grinned. “Cause Helen told me so.”

An aide answered at the hospital, and I asked to speak to Carrie. While I waited, Saperstein was reading another entry.

“Definitely a human sacrifice,” he said to nobody in particular.

Carrie came on the line.

“Hi, Carrie, this is Carl up at the sheriffs office.”

“Yes?” She sounded a little suspicious.

“Carrie, we’d like to see you tonight. After your shift is over. And Lori, too.”

“Well, I don’t know about Lori, but I have to be home right away tonight.”

“An emergency?”

“I just have some things to do.” She was using her official nurse voice, not about to brook any arguments.

“Just a second, Carrie.” I put my hand over the phone. “Hey, Hal?”

“Yeah …”

“Our nurses are a little reluctant. Making excuses.”

“We need them tonight?”

“I think so. How about you, Art?”

“Yes.”

“Well,” said Hal, “let me talk to her.” He went to another phone. “What’s her name?”

“Carrie. I already have a written statement from both of them.”

“We’d better talk to ’em anyway. Hello, Carrie?”

I listened in on my phone.

“Yes?”

“This is Special Agent Hal Greeley, Iowa Division of Criminal Investigation. We have to talk to you tonight.”

“That’s out of the question, I’m afraid.”

“I don’t think you understand, Carrie. It’s very important.”

“I don’t think you understand, Mr. Greeley,” she said, and hung up.

I looked at him. “Gee, I wish I could do that.”

“We’ve been to special classes,” said Hester, grinning at her fellow agent. “Hal excelled.”

“Shut up.” He was visibly embarrassed.

Saperstein interrupted. “Hey, they have the first appearance of the victim on the 24th of November. She says that ‘the sacrifice was revealed to us at last.’ ”

“Wonder who the poor bastard was?” I said to nobody in particular.

While Hal was explaining some of the details to Art, I
went over to Saperstein and read along in the diary. Weird stuff.

“I can’t wait,” he said. “Let’s look at December 25th and see if they got him.”

He flipped several pages ahead. The pertinent entry was on December 26.

“Darkness has led us to the ultimate power,” he read. “The power flows through us all. We are supreme. We are complete. We are accomplished. Handmaiden has given us the vessel for our advancement. She is elevated. The sacrifice is in the arms of the Master and is safe. The Nathane bites deep into the heart of the sacrifice, releasing the life force and enhancing us all.”