LLOYD, PAUL R. (9 page)

“23 skidoo?”

“Yeah. You know, time to get out of
town. It’s an old expression.”

“So in each generation, there never
was a father?”

Denise pointed a finger to the
ceiling. “There was a father, of course. You have to have a father. But we
Appleby women aren’t very good at picking our gentleman. The ones we choose
don’t hang around long enough for marriage.”

“But you said you knew your
father.”

“I said he was dead. I knew who he
was. Oh, Micah, is this necessary? My father is my business. He came around
once in a while when I was a child for birthdays, Halloween, that sort of
thing.”

“Halloween?”

“Yeah, he liked to take me trick or
treating and all that jazz when I was a kid.”

“And that’s pretty much the way the
fathers have been in your family for generations?” Micah asked.

“Ye-es. I’m uncomfortable answering
these personal questions, especially from the town pervert.”

“Ouch.”

Denise threw her sandwich to the
floor. “You know what? You’ve got issues to deal with, like clearing your name
or whatever it is you came back to Naperville to do. And learning to get along
with lovable cats like Fritz. Why don’t we take a pass on this relationship
until you figure out who you are and what you want? Then we can worry about who
or what I am.”

“You sure?” Micah asked.

“Sounds groovy to me. You can’t be
for me and against me, Micah. Make up your mind. Resolve your other issues. In
the meantime we can be friends and neighbors, okay?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“It’s best for both of us. Trust me
on this one.” Denise gave Micah a peck on the cheek, stood up and promenaded
out the door with a swirl of her miniskirt. Fritz followed.

Micah followed them with his eyes.
“Groovy?”

“I’m in deep enough, Lilly. And it
possesses sufficient length. No, wait. A bit deeper will be better.” Lionel
Langdon scratched away at the dirt to make the hole deeper.

He hoped the sounds would not
disturb the otherwise peaceful evening. He paused long enough to admire the
radiant red and azure colors of the sunset behind the trees. A few rays filtered
through the darkness sufficient for him to sigh as he realized what digging in
the dirt was doing to his dress trousers, oxford shirt and Ivy League blue and
red striped tie. He tugged at his Gucci leather belt and surveyed his dig.

Lionel poked his head out of the
hole in time to observe a movement hidden by a bush. While Lionel jumped back
with his mouth wide and his eyes wider, a cat strutted out of the bush, sniffed
the air and said “Meowr.” The feline intruder turned up his nose and headed
away from the pile of dirt stacked by the hole.

Lionel raised himself out of the ground.
He pushed the shovel hard into the dirt pile until it stood like a sentry to
guard against unwanted witnesses. After planting Lilly at the bottom of the
hole, he reached into his shirt pocket to pull a cigarette from a pack he kept
there. He placed the filter end between his lips and reached into his pants pocket
for a lighter. The flame lit the gathering darkness around his mouth as he
puckered his lips, sucking in the tobacco smoke along with the stench of a new
death.

As he exhaled, a smile formed on
his lips despite the nicotine delivery vehicle and close proximity of a death
he had caused. He admired his work for several minutes as the last of the daylight
faded and his cigarette burned down.  He tossed the butt into the hole where it
bounced off Lilly’s forehead before settling into her hair. Her hair began to
smolder. He tossed in a load of dirt scooped up with his shovel.

“Hey, what are you doing?” The
sound of the commanding voice froze Lionel.

He glared over his shoulder at a
forest preserve police officer striding toward him. “Burying my dog, officer.”

“This ain’t no pet cemetery.” The
officer approached the hole and shined his long police flashlight in. “Holy
shi…”

The rusted steel spade end of Lionel’s
shovel smashed into the back of the officer’s head, knocking him into the hole.

Lionel checked to see if the
officer moved.

He didn’t.

Lionel resumed filling the hole
with dirt. When he finished, he carried arm loads of dead leaves to the
gravesite. Once satisfied the grave was no longer visible, he scattered branches
and sticks about the tomb for a more natural appearance. He picked up his
shovel and was about to depart the area when a loud buzz caught his attention.
He glanced up expecting to witness a swarm of bees but discovered instead a man
circling about fifty feet above his head. The man wore blue jeans and work
boots. He had a red tee shirt tied around his waist.

Ahlman Brown spiraled down until he
landed about ten feet in front of Lionel.

Lionel backed up a few paces. “Mr.
Brown? I… I…”

 “You don’t understand, do you?” Ahlman
folded his four gossamer wings against his bare back and put on his tee shirt.

Lionel glanced down on the ground
to avert his eyes. “Well, you see…”

“No need to explain, Dr. Langdon.
We all have our foibles, don’t you agree?”

Lionel gazed up into Ahlman’s eyes.
“Bu… but flying’s not a foible, Mr. Brown. It’s just not… not… done.”

A lengthy smile crept across Ahlman’s
face. “Haven’t you heard, Dr. Langdon? I’m an absolute angel. You do realize
angels have wings?”

“I suppose you…. you… you’re…

“Wondering what you’re doing here?
Oh, I’m not wondering, Dr. Langdon. I know about your nasty habit.”

“Ha…habit?” Lionel backed up a few
more steps.

Ahlman followed him. “This is not
the first time, is it? You’ve been having fun for years with the young ladies
of Ulysses S. Grant High School, but this spring you’ve learned a new game,
haven’t you?”

Lionel waved his shovel. “I don’t
know what you’re talking about.”

“You’ve just committed your second
rape and murder of the spring, Lionel.”

“You can’t prove a thing.”

“Excuse me, but aren’t you holding
a shovel? And isn’t that a fresh grave right behind you? In fact, it’s a double
grave isn’t it? Lilly Thompson may be written off as a runaway teenager, but a
missing forest preserve police officer?” Ahlman sniffed the air. “He is a special
case, indeed. More fresh than you know.” He sniffed the air again. “They’ll
come searching for him. They’ll suspect foul play. They’ll go over every inch
of this forest preserve. Dogs will be involved. They’ll sniff out the grave.
They will find him.”

“I’ll leave now, Mr. Brown. You’ve
said enough.” Lionel pushed past Ahlman and took several steps forward. He spun
around while swinging the shovel at Ahlman’s head. Or at least where Ahlman’s
head used to be.

“Looking for me?”

Lionel turned around again and
discovered Ahlman somehow had gotten past him. “How’d you do that?”

Ahlman reached out and took the
shovel from Lionel and snapped it in two. He dropped the pieces at Lionel’s feet
where they burst into flames, lighting Lionel’s face against the night.

“Let’s not have anymore of your
nonsense, Dr. Langdon.”
            Lionel took another step backwards into the darkness. “Who are
you?”

“Don’t you listen to the people
around you? I’m an angel. Think setting a shovel handle on fire is a simple
parlor trick? Watch.”

Lionel jumped back and fell to the
ground as the metal shovel head glowed red and then white before melting into a
puddle on the ground. The stench of molten steel burned his nostrils. “What do
you want, Ahlman?”

“What angels always want. But first
I desire your cooperation. If you assist me, then I’ll see this hobby of yours
goes undiscovered.”

“You… You won’t turn me in?”

“Think of Lilly as a sacrifice you
have made to please me. And feel free to make more sacrifices to me, Dr.
Langdon.”

“You’re not an angel, are you?” Lionel
stood up.

“Of course I am. I like having
friends, Dr. Langdon. Do you want to be my friend?”

Lionel brushed the dirt from his
clothes. “I… I… don’t think so.”

“Ha! You already are my friend, Dr.
Langdon. Everyone in Naperville knows how much you like me because I gave your
school one million dollars. That money came from my friends. Now you are one of
them. My friends always do me favors. I’ll let you know what I need when the
time comes. Now, I suggest you leave before another forest preserve officer
happens by.”

***

A nosy Fritz poked his head out of the
bushes and pondered the wisdom of digging about the big hole the human had dug
earlier and then refilled. Fritz thought he might turn up a bit of food the
human left behind. As he sniffed and scratched about the area, a hand shot out
of the unmarked grave. Fritz greeted the hand with a loud and lispy “meowr.”

“You have me as a witness.” Micah
stared at the steam rising from the teapot on the stove behind Detective Lawson.
He hitched up his blue jeans and adjusted his black tee shirt.

“You’re a convicted felon. Mr.
Brown’s an angel. Which do you think a jury would believe? Your girlfriend
stated she found you at the bottom of the steps and you appeared to have fallen.
Did you fall or were you attacked?” Lawson folded his arms, crinkling his blue
suit and pushing up his red necktie.

The tea kettle whistled. Lawson
stepped aside to allow Micah access to the stove.

“Besides, we have no evidence to
back up your claim, Mr. Probert.” Detective Lawson shifted over so he could
lean back on Micah’s avocado boomerang pattern kitchen counter top between the
sink and the stove.

The ghost of Mary O’Dare appeared
in front of the stove, but she stepped out of the way as Micah approached.

“I filed a complaint, didn’t I?”
Micah removed the kettle from the stove and turned off the flame. He poured
water over a teabag in a cup. “Tea?” The aroma of tea mixed with exotic spices
and orange rind wafted around the room.

“No, thanks. We took your complaint
seriously. I interviewed Ahlman Brown. He denied everything and can produce an
alibi for the evening.”

“Another angel?”

“No, your girlfriend, good old Denise
Appleby.”

“Ex-girlfriend now.” Micah blew
across the hot tea and smiled at the ghost of Mary O’Dare who was busy drying a
ghostly metal plate.

“That didn’t last long. What did
you do, tell her about how you spent fifteen of the past twenty years?”

Micah glared at the police
detective. “She seemed fine with that. She didn’t like when I accused Ahlman
Brown.”

“Because he’s an angel?” Detective
Lawson smirked.

“Funny you should mention that,
Detective. Have you noticed how everyone in town calls him an angel? They don’t
say he’s nice or good or special. Everyone says he’s an angel. Why is that?”
Micah dunked his teabag.

“Because he is an angel?” Detective
Lawson smiled and adjusted his necktie.

“Okay, so he’s an actual angel from
heaven above. Don’t you think someone in Naperville, a city with about
one-hundred-fifty-thousand citizens, would think of one other way to complement
him? They might call him ‘God’s beloved messenger,’ for example. Or simply ‘a
nice guy.’ But no one does. It’s always the same word.” Micah sipped his tea.

“Haven’t noticed myself. Why do you
care what people call him?”

“It’s like everyone is brainwashed
or under a spell, and we’re reading from the same script.”

The detective scratched his head
and then pointed at Micah with his index finger. “Tell you what, I’ll call him
an angel. That make you feel better?”

“Why would it?”

Detective Lawson pressed his lips
together and turned his palms up. “Because he is an angel.”

Micah put his teacup down on the
kitchen counter. “Why not listen to what other people say? If everybody calls
him an angel, and they never use another way to describe him, something is
wrong. As a police officer, you might want to think about that.”

“I have no interest in Ahlman Brown
at this time, but since you brought it up, I’ll keep an ear open for the way
people describe our resident angel.”

“Thanks. Oh, one more thing.”

“Yes?”

“I noticed you called my ex-girlfriend
‘old’ Denise Appleby. Do you think she’s elderly? She appears young enough to
me.”

“Meowr.”

“There’s that darn cat again.”
Micah shooed Fritz away with his foot.

Detective Lawson made a dismissive
wave of the hand. “It’s a Naperville joke. The old timers think she’s a witch.
You grew up in Naperville, so you should know all about it.”

“Hag. She’s supposed to be a hag.
Apparently there’s a difference. As far as knowing about her, I don’t remember
much about my youth in Naperville. Prison kind of wipes out anything good in
your past. But what about the old timers?”

“She’s been called a witch or hag
since I was a kid.”

“And so that would be like decades
ago, right?”

“Yeah, so?”

“And she’s about twenty-eight now?”

“Yeah, I see what you mean. The old
timers must have been thinking about her mother or grandmother. I guess they
passed the hag torch onto a new generation.”

“Could she be the original Denise
Appleby who has somehow kept herself young?”

“Old timers say it, too. But how? They’re
just making talk because everyone in her family has the same name.”

“What about the men?”

“What men? No offense, but who
would marry an old hag? They give it away for free. You didn’t think you were
the first, did you?”

Micah lowered his head and let out
a long breath. “I don’t expect girls in their late twenties to be virgins.”

Detective Lawson chuckled. “I don’t
expect girls in their late teens to be virgins. You should see the way the kids
mess around in the forest preserves and the back lots of the mall when they
think no one is around. What goes on in their homes while mommy and daddy are at
work is something I don’t want to think about.”