The Recluse Storyteller (11 page)

“Margaret, who is Benjamin?” asked Janice. “Come on. We need you to talk. Who is Benjamin?”

“Benjamin. Laying by a tree. Hurt his head.”

“A tree? She never even goes out of the apartment.”

“That’s not true. She goes shopping once a week. I know. I’ve seen her,” said Reverend Davies.

“Well, there’s about three trees from here to Full Brands. If there is a bloody Benjamin laying by one of them, he shouldn’t be hard to find,” said Cheevers.

“We need to call the police. She can’t be trusted,” insisted Mrs. Trumble.

Janice was beginning to think the same thing. She nodded her head. Reverend Davies said he would go down to street level and look over the trees on the way to the market. Mr. Tomsey said he could call a policeman friend of his and see what should be done. The long night was about to get much longer. Mrs. Johnson thought about her husband and wished he was there. She worried for the girls and wanted to go back to the apartment to comfort them, but she wanted to see this through. If Margaret was guilty, she would pay for messing with her girls.

Chapter 8

Tears and Truth

The whole group, every last one, cowered in the middle of Mrs. Johnson’s living room as the policeman reprimanded them.

“Was it too much to think that at least one adult would have asked the girls what happened? Ice cream and storytelling. Sounds like a good babysitter to me. Chester, I’ll see you later.”

Mr. Tomsey nodded his head as his policeman friend exited the apartment. They all felt somewhat ashamed, except for Mrs. Trumble, who was convinced that the policeman had been too hasty and certainly overlooked something.

“I’m going home,” said Cheevers and walked out the door.

“Goodnight, Mrs. Johnson. Janice,” nodded Reverend Davies and walked out after Cheevers.

“What about Margaret? What about my hand?”

“Mrs. Trumble, I would suggest that you not put it in between a door and door frame anytime soon,” said Mr. Tomsey as he exited.

Cheevers walked right past his apartment and headed down the steps followed by Reverend Davies.

“You’re not going home?” inquired the reverend.

“I need a drink. Want to join me, Reverend?”

“Oh, no. I think not.”

“I certainly need one after this evening.”

“Well, I don’t blame you at all,” smiled the reverend wryly.

Janice walked by Margaret’s apartment, hesitated a little, and then continued on down the steps. She would talk with her about the whole incident another day, but for now, she just wanted to go home, shower the venomous talk off her body, and go to bed.

Margaret stood at her window and caught a glimpse of Red Hat and Reverend Davies as they parted. She remained completely unaffected by the evening’s events, but the red hat grabbed her. It mesmerized her. She felt afflicted by the muse all around her. She thought of the red cap of her childhood, and once more fell into her hypnotic trance, alone in her world, unaffected, unattached, and relentless. Where would she begin?

* * *

“Priscilla put on her best face and proudly clutched Red Hat’s arm like a Homecoming Queen. She hadn’t been this close to a man since she turned down Richard Hopkin’s wedding proposal in college. She calculated that she couldn’t bear to be with a statistician far from her dear sister Florence, who had also settled in firmly at Red Hat’s right.

“‘Calm and cool,’ said Red Hat. ‘You got it.’

“‘Oh, this is exciting,’ said Florence, who squeezed tightly on his arm. Twice he had to break away to restore circulation.

“They descended the steps and began to walk past Quinn’s door at the end of the first floor hallway when an officer stopped them.

“‘Excuse me, ladies, sir. Do you live here?’ asked the officer.

“Priscilla jumped in first. She had a knack for pretending.

“‘Why, yes, officer. I’m Priscilla, and this is my dear sister, Florence. And you just must met our nephew—’

“‘Bartholomew,’ piped in Florence. She had always been the creative one.

“‘Yes, Bartholomew is from Key West. He flew up to celebrate our birthday with us. We are twins if you can’t tell.’

“‘Well, almost twins,’ clarified Florence in a confusing way.

“‘I see. Bartholomew, how long are you here?’ asked the bemused cop.

“‘I’m actually leaving today.’

“‘You have something wrong with your head?’

“‘No, no. I’m fine.’

“‘I see it’s bleeding.’

“‘Bleeding? Oh, well …’

“He quickly pulled his red hat out of his pocket and put it on his head.

“‘I’m afraid that’s my fault, officer,’ said Florence. ‘You see, I was playing baseball with a marble on my balcony, and it hit him on the head.’

“‘That’s right. When the flower pot fell,’ said Priscilla.

“‘Flower pot?’ asked the policeman. He had a skeptical look on his face as he glanced over the threesome.

“‘Yes, the flower pot hit him in the head.’

“‘I thought you said a marble hit him?’

“‘Well, no, not a marble,’ said Priscilla.

“‘Priscilla, don’t you remember. It was a marble. I can’t play baseball with a flower pot,’ Florence scolded.

“‘Sorry, officer. They are a little out of their minds. Don’t listen to them,’ Red Hat said, trying to quickly back out of this conversation that headed towards a confrontation.

“‘How did you get that blow to your head?’ inquired the officer.

“‘Does it matter? I have to go.’

“‘It matters, Bartholomew,” the officer facetiously added. ‘We have a dead body here. Can I see some identification?’

“‘Officer Monroe. Our poor nephew didn’t want to say anything. It’s rather embarrassing,” Florence said as she poked her head in close to the officer’s chest. ‘He was on the toilet and quickly stood up and hit his head on the marble flower pot on the shelf in front of the throne, if you know what I mean.’

“‘That’s right. That’s all there is to it,’ added Priscilla. ‘That flower pot is extremely close to the toilet. We’re short, though. Very short. Doesn’t bother us.’

“‘How embarrassing it was to find Bartholomew face down on the floor,’ said Florence, leaning close to whisper into Officer Monroe’s ear. ‘And he still had his pants down.’ They both giggled.

“Red Hat had about had enough and so had the officer who quickly called for backup into his shoulder-com-unit.

“‘They’re fruity officer,’ said Red Hat, motioning the crazy circle with his left hand. ‘That’s why I come here and visit them. They’d go batty without sane companionship from time to time.’

“‘Okay, people. I don’t know what you are trying to prove, but I need to see some identification, and now.’

Red Hat glanced quickly to each of his ‘aunties’ who smiled widely, feeling so proud of themselves for such a clever excuse. Then he reached back with his right hand and landed a solid punch on the officer’s jaw. Monroe tripped backwards against the wall and flopped onto the floor. The ladies stood by, laughing giddily at themselves. From Quinn’s apartment, another officer saw the punch and quickly headed their way.

“‘Run, Bartholomew. Run,’ yelled Florence, who felt an amazing rush of adrenaline overtake her. She hadn’t felt anything like it since throwing a no-hitter in high school.

“Red Hat took her cue and headed down the hall and out the door. Priscilla put out her foot, and the officer from Quinn’s room tripped and fell face-first onto the wooden floor. He quickly grabbed his com-unit and yelled into it.

“‘Perpetrator on foot, leaving the building, wearing a red hat. I repeat. Wearing a red hat.’

“Red Hat immediately saw the troopers scurrying in front of him. He had an open corridor straight ahead of him across the street, but he no longer had transportation since he had planned on hailing a cab.

“He ran between two police cars as several officers converged behind him. Across the street, diagonally situated beside a convenience store, sat an idling Yo-Yo Yoghurt truck, as the driver unloaded some plastic cartons from the back.

“Red Hat leaped up through the open door and into the vacant driver’s seat. He clutched, shifted into first, and tore off. Cartons of Yo-Yo came crashing onto the pavement as the driver ripped off some profanities. One officer drew his weapon and tried to shoot out the back tire but only managed to puncture a few more cartons, which spewed their milky-goodness onto the street, leaving a clear yoghurt trail to follow. They scooted to their vehicles to begin the hot pursuit as Red Hat nearly tipped over the panel van heading onto 9
th
Avenue, avoiding three cars and beeping incessantly. He was three hours late, but he wouldn’t fail. No flower pot in the world would prevent him from unlocking that box with Quinn’s key.”

* * *

Margaret was leaning face first against the window overlooking the street. The street lamps created shadows against the corner of the small vacant café where Red Hat often ate his breakfast. Cheevers sat at McHeely’s down the street, tipping back a pint with his buddies. Reverend Davies was at home with his wife and kids, and Pam and Sam had been snuggling in their beds for hours by now. Margaret thought over the whole evening. She knew she wasn’t crazy in the clinical sense. She knew how she loved the twins. She would surely stock up on ice cream the next time she went to Full Brands—but even the thought of that made her feel nervous. She always went on Tuesday at midnight, but now Reverend Davies knew her schedule. She wasn’t sure if she would have the strength to change it. She thought of how the Reverend Davies stared at her this evening in her apartment like she was guilty of something. He disapproved. He always disapproved. She thought of her mother who had long left her alone.

“My rifle butt leaned against the ground and the barrel pointed directly up at me. I stared into the small dark hole that could bring me relief with one quick flick of my finger.”

Margaret saw him sitting on the edge of the village. His mind held the image of forty years past. He looked right down the barrel, wanting to end it all. Off to the side, some two hundred feet away, she saw Nicki and Quan still sitting on the small plastic stools, sipping the strong green tea. She had to find out what this was all about.

* * *

“Nicki lifted her left hand and rubbed her forehead for a moment.

“‘Are you all right?’ asked Quan, genuinely concerned for her quickly changing mood.

“‘Yes, I’m just hot.’

“‘Do you want to go into my house? There’s a fan there.’

“‘No,’ she replied quickly. ‘How did you choose Mt. Goshen College?’

“Quan paused for a moment.

“‘Your father.’

“‘You know my father?’ asked Nicki incredulously.

“‘Yes. I’m sorry. I do. Without him, I never would have gone to college.’

“‘I don’t understand.’

“‘He helped me a lot, and I am very grateful for him. Without him, I would have never learned English, or gone to America, or have been able to provide for my family.’

“‘I still don’t understand.’

“From the side, Reverend Taylor jumped into the conversation. He had climbed down over the ridge and had silently approached them. It was time to set the record straight.

“‘I killed Quan’s grandfather. Right here. Right from that ridge.’

“‘No,’ Quan stood up immediately and tried to shield the reverend from having to divulge any more information.

“‘Dad, what do you mean? Quan told me there was a battle here one night. I know you were here, but … You don’t have to relive the past.’

“‘That’s right.’

“‘It was me,’ the reverend said, staring out over the rice expanse. ‘Only me. I stood there and opened fire. And I fired and fired, and I slaughtered them all. Everyone last one. I killed Quan’s grandfather. And uncle and aunt.’

“Tears streamed down all of their faces.

“‘War is hell. Everything about war is hell. It doesn’t matter,’ said Quan.

“‘I never even got a reprimand. My commanding officer reported that the VC slaughtered the villagers in the dead of night for providing assistance to us. It was one big lie after another which covered up the whole incident. I walked out of the army a decorated war hero, but I couldn’t face anyone when I arrived back home. I swore I would make it right.’

“He wiped his face of all the sweat and tears.

“‘It’s been my obsession. All those times I was away on conferences, I was tracking down information about this village. I scrimped and saved and shaved off earnings and went out of my way to help the people I hurt. I worked my way onto the board at Mt. Goshen College simply for the reason of setting up a veteran’s scholarship fund. That’s how I found Quan. Nicki, I’m sorry for not being completely forthright with you.’

“‘Did you know Quan was going to be here?’

“‘Yes. We planned it.’

“‘And does Mom know any of this?’

“‘No. I was going to tell her, but she decided not to come, so I didn’t.’