Punish the Sinners (32 page)

To Peter Balsam, it was obvious that the girls were caught up in a hysterical response to their friend’s death. He rose and moved toward them.

But, as quickly as it had begun, it was over. It was as if the girls had come out of a trance, and the moment they became aware of each other again, they looked at each other, giggled nervously, and hurried out of the church. Behind them, more slowly, Judy Nelson walked up the center aisle. As she passed the spot where Peter Balsam stood, she suddenly turned to him, and smiled. He supposed it was intended as a friendly smile, but it made him cold. He felt a shiver in his back, and quickly looked away. By the time he got hold of himself, and turned back to face her, she was gone.

   Only one figure remained in the church. Marilyn Crane sat huddled in her pew, and seemed unaware of what had been going on.

As, indeed, she was. She had been concentrating on the Sorrowful Mother, and when the strange wailing
had begun she was sure it was inside her own head. There was no other explanation for it; such sounds as these were never heard in any church Marilyn Crane had ever attended. And then, when they ended, she realized she was alone in the church. She decided that the Blessed Vrigin wanted something from her, and was sending her a sign. She approached the statue, and lit a candle.

She waited for the message.

For a long time nothing happened. Then the urge swept through her. She wanted to put her hand in the flame. She fought the urge, but it grew inside her: this was the message from the Sorrowful Mother; this was the sign.

Marilyn Crane reached out and put the palm of her hand over the flame of the votive light. She lowered her hand until she could see the flame touching her skin. There was no pain. The Virgin was protecting her from pain. It was just as Judy Nelson had told her. It was beautiful.

Marilyn held her hand steady, and didn’t remove it from the fire until she smelled the sickly-sweet odor of charring flesh. When she did pull her hand from the flame, she stood still for a few moments, staring awestruck at the wound. Yes, she told herself, Judy was right There is no such thing as pain.

As she pondered the new truth, Marilyn Crane crossed herself, thanked the Blessed Virgin for the message, and slowly walked from the church.

   Peter Balsam had almost reached the sanctuary doors when something caught his eye, and he paused. Then he realized he was staring at one of the saints.

St. Acerinus.

St. Acerinus, the canonized Piero da Balsama.

The saint seemed to be staling down at him accusingly, as if Peter had started something, but not finished it Peter Balsam told himself that he was being ridiculous, that he was imagining things. He tore himself away from the saint’s sightless gaze, and started from the church. But he had a feeling of being watched.

When he turned around, Monsignor Vernon was standing in the chancel, observing him, a look of strange serenity on his face.

Earlier they had all gone to church; now they were gathered on Main Street, the parents at the drugstore, their children across the street. There was something new in Neilsville—a discotheque—and the St Francis Xavier crowd had flocked there tonight.

Leona Anderson stabbed fretfully at her banana split, part of her attention focused on the meager size of the dessert (which she was sure had shrunk by at least fifty percent since she had been a teen-ager), the rest of it silently protesting the noise from across the street

The Praying Mantis—she wondered how they came up with such a silly name—had opened only a month ago, and Leona’s worst fears had been immediately justified. A few of the Neilsville High students had drifted in, but it quickly became obvious that the disco was going to be the headquarters for the youngsters from St Francis Xavier’s. Leona had visions of drug traffic—or worse. She was sure the opening of the Praying Mantis spelled the end of decent living in Neilsville.

“Isn’t there a law against making that much noise?” Inez Nelson complained from the opposite side of the booth. Leona shook her head grimly.

“I checked, of course,” she said. “It’s zoned for commercial use. They can do whatever they want” Her tone implied that she was sure they were doing exactly
that, and that “whatever they want” went far beyond blasting a jukebox at top volume. “I’m not sure we should allow the girls to go there,” Leona continued. She glared out the window at the offending building, as if by simply staring at it she could make it disappear.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Inez Nelson said tentatively. “Things just aren’t the same as they were when we were teen-agers. I suppose you have to bend with the wind. Times change.”

“Do they?” Leona asked crossly. “Then why are we sitting here in the same drugstore we sat in twenty years ago? It’s more than that, Inez. Sometimes I fed as if we’ve lost control of things.”

Inez stirred her coffee silently, wishing she could deny the truth of what Leona had said. If she had ever been in control, that time was certainly over by now. Ever since Judy had come home from the hospital, Inez had felt like she was walking on eggs. Being manipulated. She knew it was wrong, knew she should be more forceful with her daughter, but she couldn’t. She just couldn’t She was too frightened of what might happen. Particularly after last night. Inez knew she’d never forget the look on Harriet Morton’s face as they led her out of the house to take her to the hospital.

Leona’s right, she thought. We have lost control. She followed Leona’s gaze and she, too, began conjuring up images of the bizarre things that must be going on inside the Praying Mantis. A few minutes later the noise became too much for them, and the women fled.

   The truth was that not much at all was going on in the discotheque. The jukebox was blaring, but from inside the large room, the music seemed somewhat hollow and desperate.

A few of the teen-agers were dancing, but it was a desultory
kind of dancing. For the most part, they were clustered around tables, sitting, the music vibrating against them, trying to forget that Karen Morton was no longer with them.

Except for Janet Connally, whose mother had insisted that she go home right after the services ended, the group of girls who had created the disturbance at the church were there. But they were no longer all together. Judy Nelson was sitting alone, taking in her surroundings unhappily.

It was sleazy, hastily thrown together, without the money to do it right. Rock posters covered the walls; a sensuously sweating Mick Jagger, apparently in a state of sustained orgasm, presided over a gallery of his second- and third-rate imitators.

A makeshift light panel had been tied into the jukebox, but instead of creating the psychedelic visual symphony that had been intended, the crude box could produce no more than an occasional flash of red or green. Because of the poor quality of the light show, another lighting system had been installed, consisting of several strings of outdoor Christmas lights that glowed eerily in the dimness. In the center of the room, slowly revolving, hung the immense papier-mâché insect for which the place was named. Had Leona Anderson seen the inside of the Praying Mantis, much of her worry would have been displaced by disgust, and she would have wondered why the kids wanted to be there in the first place. But it was, for the students of St. Francis Xavier’s, the only game in town.

And so they were gathered, trying in their own way to pretend that everything was all right. It might have worked if Jim Mulvey had not been sitting alone at a table, a constant reminder of Karen Morton’s absence.

Penny Anderson broke away from the group she had
been standing with, and glanced around. She saw Judy Nelson sitting alone, and started across the room to join her. Before she had taken three steps, she realized that Jim Mulvey was also sitting by himself. On an impulse, Penny changed her course and approached Jim’s table.

“Hi,” she said. He looked up disinterestedly. “Okay if I sit down?” Without waiting for an answer, she slipped into the chair next to Jim. He glanced at her once more, not smiling, then turned his attention back to his Coke.

“I wanted to talk to you,” Penny said softly. “About Karen.” She waited for a reaction, and when there was none, she continued talking. “We’re all going to miss her, you know. I mean, Judy and Janet and me. We’ve always been sort of a foursome, ever since we were little. Of course, in the last year or so—” Penny suddenly broke off. It had been in the last year or so that Karen had started dating Jim Mulvey.

Now Jim looked at her curiously. “What were you going to say?” he said bitterly. “Were you going to say that in the last year or so—
ever since she started going with me
—Karen changed?” Jim stared accusingly at Penny.

“N-no—” Penny stammered. “I wasn’t going to say that at all.”

“Yes, you were,” Jim said flatly, leaving no room for argument. “Don’t you think I know what’s been going on? Don’t you think I’ve heard the talk? Hell, I started some of it.” He stared sourly into his Coke, and when he spoke again, Penny wasn’t sure he was talking to her. “It’s my fault,” he said so quietly Penny could hardly hear him. “I never treated her the way she wanted to be treated. I never talked to her. I should have talked to her. If I had, none of this would ever have happened.”

Penny reached out and touched his hand. He seemed
so unhappy, so unsure of himself. Not at all like the Jim Mulvey she had grown up with. The cockiness, the self-confidence, had vanished.

“It isn’t your fault,” she said. Then, as if trying to convince herself, she added, “It isn’t anyone’s fault.”

Jim’s head snapped up, and he realized he’d been talking out loud. “Shut up,” he said savagely. “Just shut up about her, all right?”

Penny felt herself blushing. She wanted to leave the table. But something held her, something told her to stay with Jim. She held his hand a little tighter.

“I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am,” she said desperately. “I know you were crazy about her, and I know you’ll miss her, too.”

Now Jim looked at her, and saw the hurt in her eyes. “Pm sorry,” he said. “I just don’t want to talk about her. Not now. It’s too soon. Maybe not ever.” He looked into Penny’s eyes, and thought he saw an invitation. “I’ve got to forget her.”

“Then let’s talk about something else,” Penny offered.

“What else is there to talk about?” Jim shrugged. “Look around. It’s like a morgue in here. All anybody’s thinking about is Karen.”

“I’m not.”

He looked at her questioning. “What are you thinking about?”

“You,” Penny said. “How you aren’t at all like I always thought you were. You’re really very nice.”

She felt Jim’s hand respond under her own. The pressure sent a thrill through her, and she returned the squeeze.

“I like you, too,” Jim said. He looked at her speculatively. Was she telling him what he thought she was telling him? “Why don’t we get out of here?”

Penny started to refuse, but then she looked around the room. Judy Nelson was watching her, as were several of her other friends. What would they think, Penny wondered. What would they think if they saw me leave with Jim Mulvey? Particularly after what I said at lunch—my God, was it really only yesterday? They’d all heard her. They’d all heard her say she was going to take Jim away from Karen. Well, Karen was gone now, but why wait? If she left with him, wouldn’t they think that Jim had been planning to break up with Karen anyway? Karen wouldn’t care. She was dead.

“Where would we go?” Penny asked, stalling for time.

Jim shrugged. “I dunno. Not the drugstore, That place is really gross.” Then he had an idea. “How about Bill Enders’ cabin? I haven’t seen Bill in awhile.”

Penny thought it over. She barely knew Bill Enders. Bill was another of her mother’s favorite gripes. The young man had built a cabin for himself about a year ago, and because he had long hair and lived alone, Leona Anderson had immediately labeled him a hippie and begun agitating against him all over Neilsville. It turned out Enders had paid cash for the land he’d built his house on, and kept a steady, if modest, balance in the bank. But he kept pretty much to himself, and as far as Penny knew, Jim Mulvey was the only person in town who knew him well enough to drop in on him. The prospect excited her.

“Isn’t it a little late?” She half-hoped Jim would agree.

“Not for Bill He’s always up.” Jim smiled at her reassuringly, wondering what her reaction would be when she found out Bill Enders wasn’t at the cabin at all.

Penny made up her mind, and stood up. “Well, what
are we waiting for?” As they left, Penny saw Judy Nelson beckoning to her.

“You’re not leaving with Jim Mulvey, are you?” she whispered.

Penny, feeling terribly adventurous, did her best to look sophisticated. “We’re just running out to say hello to Bill Enders,” she said, loudly enough to be heard at all the tables in the area. Then, as Judy Nelson’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, Penny took Jim Mulvey’s arm and walked out of the Praying Mantis.

As they drove out of town a few minutes later, Penny thought she heard it—faintly in the distance, a sound that was becoming familiar to her. She put it out of her mind and turned her attention back to Jim.

   But Penny was right; she
had
heard it Somewhere in the night an ambulance was wailing through town. The music stopped in the Praying Mantis, and everyone began looking around, trying to assess who was there, and who was not When they realized what they were doing they became self-conscious, and a nervous buzz of conversation grew in the room as the siren slowly faded.

   Penny looked apprehensively at the darkened cabin, tucked away in a tiny stand of cottonwood trees.

“He must have gone to bed,” she said, feeling slightly relieved. All the way out from town, she had been wondering if this was a mistake. Now she relaxed. They would turn around and drive back to Neilsville. But Jim switched off the engine.

“Nah,” he said. “Too early. He must have gone out for a while. Come on, I know where the key is. We can go in and wait for him to come backs.”

Penny wanted to ask him to take her home, but then she told herself that that was silly. She’d come this far,
and she wasn’t going to chicken out now. Besides, everyone at the disco knew where she’d gone, and who she’d gone with, and if she made Jim take her home, he’d be sure to spread it around. Penny could hear Judy Nelson’s caustic remarks about people who talk big and don’t follow through. She got out of the car.