The Dark: A Collection (Point Horror) (15 page)

"If you love the
young lady, Mr. Fellini, you sure have a strange way of showing it!"
The judge looked down his long nose. "In my day if a young man
admired a young lady, he'd give her flowers, ask her out to dinner,
and carry her books home from school. He wouldn't try to drown her
in the high school pool!"

"I was only trying
to save her! I heard her screaming and thought somebody was trying to
murder her."

"Strange way of
trying to save her!" the judge barked.

The district attorney
stood up at the table for the prosecution. He was an impressive
figure, dressed in a three-piece suit despite the hot Georgia
weather.

"Your honor, the
prosecution would like to object. I've already laid out copious
evidence against the defendant. I've established nefarious links
between the defendant and his notorious brother, Mike Fellini. They
form a crime team. I'm charging Mike with kidnapping, and Harry
with the murder of Mrs. Ingersoll and the attempted murder of
Bianca."

Again Mrs. Fellini
let out a sob.

Bianca wasn't sure
what "nefarious" and "notorious" meant. But she was willing
to swear that Harry wasn't either. Mrs. Shipley, sitting next to
her, patted her on the arm to give her courage. Little Katie saw her
"Anca" was troubled and gave her a hug.

"I certainly
agree," the judge remarked to the district attorney, "it would be
a sad day if this bench started listening to criminals. You can sit
in jail, young man. Maybe that'll make you come to your senses. It
might be too late. The district attorney, distinguished gentleman
that he is —" The district attorney inclined his head in a little
bow and smiled. "The district attorney," continued the judge, "is
in the process of collecting evidence against you. He's already got
enough to convict you of killing Mrs. Ingersoll, in my opinion. A
conviction there could land you in jail for a long time, son, maybe
for ever."

"But—" Harry
never gave up.

The judge struck the
bench with his gavel. "Arraignment over. Put him in jail!"

Applause came from
the back of the courtroom. In the last row Rick was cheering and
snickering. No doubt he thought he could escape blame for whatever he
might have done if Harry were carted off to jail. So far the district
attorney had been able to connect him with nothing except the
cemetery pranks.

The district attorney
leaped up. He started chatting with the judge about a dinner party at
the Cloister Hotel that they were both attending with their wives.

Bianca rose. Mrs.
Shipley, holding Katie in her arms, stood beside her. "Judge, I
want to pay the bail," declared Bianca. She didn't know how she
had the courage. But when Harry was involved, the courage just came.

Harry gaped at Bianca
in disbelief as the jailers were about to nab him. He turned around
and hid his face, hunching his shoulders. He was trying to conceal
his tears.

Mrs. Fellini jumped
up from the defendant's table and raced back to the first row of
seats. She hugged Bianca, kissing her on each cheek.

The defense attorney
dropped his cards. His mouth fell open as he gaped at Bianca.

"Order in the
court!" The judge pounded his gavel on the bench.

"The money's part
of my trust fund. I didn't care about it until I knew it could do
good for somebody else. Mrs. Shipley's signed special papers to let
me use it before I turn eighteen."

Mrs. Shipley's
Atlanta attorney, a slick-looking fellow wearing a toupee, rushed up
to the bench and dumped a whole briefcase of signed papers in front
of the judge. Not even the district attorney could object to how
legal everything was.

"Well, young man,"
the judge quipped sarcastically, "maybe you do have some hidden
talents with the ladies we haven't appreciated. No wonder you and
your brother make such a dangerous team. You've got the
millionaires on your side!"

"Judge —" Harry
wiped his eyes with his fists — "I don't know if I can accept
Bianca's money. I—"

"Feeling guilty,
eh?" The judge eyed Harry. "Didn't know the Fellinis had a
conscience."

"Harry!" Bianca
stomped her foot in frustration. "This means so much to me!"

Their eyes locked.
She tried to make him understand that the money was as much for her
as for him. She didn't know if she could stand the guilt of having
him in jail because he'd come to her rescue. A certain, quiet
understanding passed between them.

Harry turned toward
the judge. "I accept the money, if it makes Bianca feel better."

"Very well!" the
judge remarked. "As much as I don't like it, you're free to go
on bail, son, only because you have no previous criminal record. I
warn you not to skip out on bail, though. That is a serious offense,
especially when the crime's murder."

Rick cupped his hands
to his mouth and made loud catcalls. The officers, who were stationed
about the courtroom, escorted him out. He made lewd remarks and dirty
hand signs the whole way.

Doc, who had until
now been sitting beside the district attorney, stood up. "Think of
your own safety. Think of Little Katie's safety, if you don't
want to think of your own. You're letting the killer loose to prey
on you. Don't you want to reconsider?"

This was the first
major decision she'd come to in the past two years without his
help. She'd gone to Mrs. Shipley because she'd known that Doc
would object. They had planned the move with the help of Mrs.
Shipley's big-city attorneys. Mrs. Shipley had deferred to Bianca's
feelings in the matter because she was so grateful to her.

Doc's eyes bored
into Bianca's. She turned away and hung her head. When the judge
asked for the check, her hand shook as she wrote it. She couldn't
approach the bench. Mrs. Shipley's attorney had to convey it to the
judge.

Harry's mother,
with her arms around her son, stumbled up to Bianca. Harry struggled
for something to say, so overcome with emotion that he looked as if
he were ready to burst. He kept on shuffling his feet, biting his
lip, and stuffing his hands deep into his pockets. Bianca stepped
forward and took Harry's hands. Harry kissed her.

"None of that in my
court!" The judge pounded his gavel.

Bianca squeezed
Harry's hand. Harry gave her a parting look and left the courtroom
with his mother.

Bianca and Mrs.
Shipley got no farther than their lawyer's car before Doc caught up
with them. She looked down at her feet. She could tell as soon as Doc
started to speak that this was going to be bad. She'd never seen
Doc in a temper. He didn't shout. Instead, there was an icy tone to
his voice.

"This is a bad
sign, Bianca, when you start conspiring with the killer to torture
and punish yourself." He regarded her through his thick,
horn-rimmed glasses. "You are suffering from survivor's guilt.
Mrs. Ingersoll died. You didn't. I'll have to mention this to
your other doctors."

This bad feeling
between Doc and Harry made tears start up in Bianca's eyes. Why
couldn't she convince Doc of Harry's innocence? But then,
everyone was suspicious about the Fellini brothers, and Doc was
protective of her. Maybe he was jealous of her feelings for Harry. At
one time this would have given her a thrill. Now it made her
confused.

Bianca reached for
Doc's hand with her own cold, clammy one. He did something he'd
never done before. He shook off her grasp and stalked off without a
backward glance. She collapsed in tears. Mrs. Shipley had to catch
her.

When Bianca called
later, Doc's parents said he couldn't come to the phone. She
phoned the house again and again. He never called her back.

Bianca sat prostrate
on her sofa in the living room. She couldn't stop crying about Doc.
She had a wastebasket filled up with Kleenex.

A druggist's
assistant arrived on her doorstep. Doc and her other physicians had
prescribed stronger pills to soothe her nerves. Attached to the
prescription was a note from Doc. She recognized his handwriting. It
curtly told her how many pills to take. There was no personal
message.

Bianca took one of
the pills to make Doc happy, as if he could see her doing it. She put
the rest into her medicine cabinet. The pill made her conk out on the
sofa. She could barely stumble to the phone when her chief
psychiatrist called later to say he was as concerned as Doc. Bianca
couldn't give up on Harry no matter what. Her gut instinct was that
he was telling the truth despite the evidence. She sniffled when she
remembered the letter he'd written her before the bail hearing,
telling her goodbye. He'd thought he was going to jail:

Dearest
Bianca,

Chin
up! Maybe it's for the best that we won't be able to see each
other. I'm poor as a church mouse. I wouldn't have much to offer
a nice girl like you. You deserve much better than a charity case for
a boyfriend.

I
don't have a job. It's better that I go to jail. That way I won't
be a burden on Mom. I'll be one less person she has to feed and
clothe. She's been fired from the temporary agency. The landlord's
leaning on us about the rent.

Mom
will have to live out of the old Rambler next, the one that was
almost totaled at the cemetery — there's no way we can have it
repaired. She'll be lucky to get it to run. Maybe she can park it
near the pier. No one will care.

Lately
we've been eating out of the church soup kitchen. We have to if we
don't want to start robbing folks the way Mike would do. The next
step for Mom is welfare and food stamps. Not much better than jail,
huh?

Find
yourself another guy who's not a jailbird. But stay away from Doc!
You don't need somebody to run your life. You can do a better job
than anyone else. You've got good instincts. Trust them!

I
don't want to sound down. I'm innocent, and I'll never forget
it. There's got to be a way to escape this. Never say die!

Love,

Harry

The bail money that
she'd provided was only a temporary fix. The district attorney
would put him on trial. Juries convicted people of murder on flimsy,
circumstantial evidence, such as the map found in his bedroom or the
lock of hair, both of which could have been planted. The feeling on
the island was so much against Harry and his family that any jury
would convict him of anything. The judge would order them to do it!

Bianca held the key
to everything, if only she could visualize the killer's face. She
was the only one who'd seen the criminal that night. It had been
dark, but there had been that shaft of moonlight coming through the
door. It had illuminated Mrs. Ingersoll's dead body and the killer
on the stairs.

When Bianca was
taking her hot shower that night, washing her hair, she flicked on
the radio. The local announcer broke in with a news flash. She paused
with the shampoo bottle in her hand.

Marianna Haynes, the
girl who's been in a coma since she fell into an open grave in
Christ's Church Cemetery, is still in critical condition. However a
source at Brunswick Memorial Hospital has told us that she has
started to talk. Much of what she says doesn't make literal sense,
but apparently she's begun to mumble something about plans for a
murder. She keeps on murmuring Bianca Winters' name.

The police have been
sent to the hospital. Yet they still haven't been able to question
Marianna, as she hasn't woken up. Legal authorities say that
whatever she seems to confess to in her present state of mind cannot
be used against her in a court of law. No one can tell for sure if
she's fantasizing or telling the truth — it adds an intriguing
twist to the unsolved murder mystery.

Marianna had seemed
to hate Bianca with a fanatical intensity. It made sense that she was
the killer. But how could she have escaped from her hospital bed to
chase Bianca around the school? How could she have pursued her on a
balance beam or jumped on a trampoline? She couldn't walk!

Maybe Marianna had
been in league with someone like Rick. Perhaps she was mumbling about
her old boyfriend's plans. Whatever happened, Bianca needed to
remember all that had occurred on that night more than ever. Time was
running out.

When she laid down to
sleep that night, she tossed, turned and thrashed about. She dreamed
about the Shipleys' house on that evening two years ago. She
relived the whole experience the way she'd remembered it time and
time again since that Friday night at the theater.

This time she
remembered a new detail. When she was struggling with the killer in
the upstairs hallway, she stepped on something small but very hard.
It was something that the killer had dropped. He was trying hard to
push her away from it. As soon as she recalled stepping on it, she
woke up.

Bianca sat up in bed.
What could the killer have dropped? Why hadn't she remembered it
until now? It must have been important, or the murderer wouldn't
have been trying to kick it away from her. She tried hard to remember
exactly how the object had felt under the soft sole of her tennis
shoe. The clearness of the memory was fast slipping away like a night
mist.

She glanced at the
clock radio. It was three am. The day was May 27, exactly two years
from the date of the killing. The Shipleys were away and they'd
given her the key to look after their house. They'd taken Little
Katie with them on their big trip to check on their investments.

Bianca reached inside
the top drawer of her night stand and retrieved the Shipleys' house
key. She had to go back and see the house at night — it might help
her to remember what had fallen on the floor that the killer had been
trying to conceal. Hurriedly she threw on her clothes. She put on
Doc's turquoise earrings for good luck. She picked up the phone.