The_Amazing_Mr._Howard (33 page)

Dave walked to the dresser and picked up something. He returned with an opened box of Ding Dongs. “We’re done talking to you, asshole.” Dave climbed onto his chest.

“Get off me, damn it!”

Margo approached the bed with one of his leather belts. She snapped the folded belt across his thighs and he flinched. “Stop hitting me, you little shit!”

“I love you, Dad,” she said, whacking him again. “This is because I love you.” Again and again, she whipped the belt over his legs.

His thighs burned.

Dave pinched his nose. “Open your mouth!”

“What?”

Dave crammed a Ding Dong past his teeth and reached for another. Willard sputtered and gagged as the sweet cake filled his throat. Dave shoved another Ding Dong into his mouth. “Sumo wrestling, huh? Well I’m going all sumo on your ass!”

Willard twisted and fought against his son and the handcuffs, while trying to spit out the Ding Dongs. Dave mashed another one down his throat and turned to Margo. “Get me the tape.”

She grabbed a roll of duct tape from the dresser and tossed it to him. Dave ripped off a long piece and pressed the tape over Willard’s mouth. “Now the bag.” She handed him a plastic bag and Dave worked the bag over his father’s head, duct taping it around his neck. Willard tried to scream, but nothing came out. For a moment he was a boy again, locked inside a toy chest.

They’re killing me. The little shits are killing me.

Dave climbed off his chest. He joined Margo beside the bed. They stood side by side holding hands. White light flashed before Willard’s eyes. Blood hammered through his skull. On the television, the dwarf flew overhead like a circus performer. He would reach for her. He would bring her against his chest and everything would be all right. Ménage a trios. Siamese twins. Fuck.

Evening rain came down over the campus. Raindrops pattered against the roof. Water pooled on sidewalks captured the reflection of lamplight. Mr. Howard turned from the window and walked to the podium. His students waited patiently for him to begin. He thumbed through his textbook.

“Ah yes, we were about to discuss Caribbean Voodoo and the spirits of love, a subject most of you should find interesting. For those who remain bored, I will change their name to the spirits of sex. This will please you, yes?”

A soft chuckle rose throughout the classroom. “You find the subject of sex amusing?”

“Only when taught by someone as old as you,” Spriggs shouted.

Mr. Howard reached for his reading glasses and put them on. “I may be old, Mr. Spriggs, but unlike you, when I make love, it is to a woman and not my hand.”

He ran his fingers over a page in the textbook and started to read. “Among the family of spirits, the Erzulie were the most common, and among the Erzulie, the most important spirit is Erzulie Freda. She wears three wedding rings, which symbolize her marriage to the serpent spirit Damballa, the sea spirit Agwe, and the warrior spirit Ogoun.”

The door opened and Killgood slipped into the room. He took his familiar position against the far wall and waited.

My business with the police is finished and yet still he comes. Perhaps he’s here about Willard. Why didn’t he wait until my class had ended? Did he come to thank me for making him a hero? Probably not.

Mr. Howard acknowledged him by dipping his head and continued with his lesson. He lectured on Voodoo ceremonies and explained how the spirits took possession of the participants and spoke through them. He went on to discuss the association of Voodoo with black magic, or Hoodoo, and Satanism. The class appeared enraptured when he explained how certain Voodoo sorcerers were said to create zombies. When the bell rang, students rushed toward the door.

“Interesting lecture,” Killgood said, approaching the podium. “Voodoo, zombies, sounds like something straight out of a movie.”

Mr. Howard took off his reading glasses and slipped them into his shirt pocket. “That is why my class is popular. It exposes impressionable minds to infinite possibilities.”

Killgood stopped several feet away, his expression solemn, eyes moving back and forth as if seeing Mr. Howard for the first time. “Infinite possibilities such as the reality of vampires?”

Mr. Howard retreated to his desk where he gathered loose papers into a pile. “Something like that, yes.” He looked up and forced himself to smile. “So, Chandler, what do I owe the pleasure of your visit? Are you here on official police business?”

“Did you hear what happened to Willard?”

Mr. Howard struggled to hide his enthusiasm. If he still had the body of a human he knew his cheeks would flush. Of course he knew what had happened to Willard. He read the article on the Internet a half-dozen times. “Strange what children are capable of these days. Imagine, killing your own parent. A tragedy. Have the investigators pieced together a motive?”

Killgood jammed his hands inside his pockets. “From what I’ve heard, Willard would never have been nominated for father of the year.”

“Oh?”

“Apparently he treated his wife and kids like shit.”

Mr. Howard stashed the papers inside his attaché. “And for this he was killed?”

Killgood’s left eyebrow arched. “Don’t you know?”

“Should I?”

“Someone filmed him having sex with a dwarf and dropped the disc off at his house. Willard’s kids found the disc. Apparently watching their father with the dwarf drove them over the edge. Now they’re in jail for God knows how long.”

“Dwarfs are best left to fairytales.”

Killgood didn’t crack a smile and a nervous flutter rose in Mr. Howard’s stomach. “I should not make jokes. A man has died.”

“Someone set him up.”

Mr. Howard closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His carefully spun tapestry of lies was coming unraveled. “Do you have evidence of this?”

“A private investigator, Jason Stanis, has gone missing. Does the name ring a bell?”

He opened his eyes. “Should it?”

“Come, Professor, I can’t believe a man of your intelligence doesn’t see it. The sex tape, Willard’s death, the PIs disappearance all happening around the same time are more than coincidences.”

Mr. Howard went over to the window. He pressed his hands against the glass to frame the shimmering moon. The rain ended and the moon bathed the campus in ghost light. “Why would someone want to blackmail Detective Willard?”

“I was hoping you might know.”

“What does your experience tell you?” Mr. Howard asked, turning around. He strolled to his desk and sat.

Killgood folded his arms over his chest. “Perhaps Willard was close to solving a case and someone needed to stop him.”

“Or perhaps the dwarf has a jealous boyfriend.”

“I doubt that. Have you ever seen a naked dwarf?”

“No,” Mr. Howard said, “and just the thought of it makes me nauseated.”

Killgood did smile at this briefly before his stony countenance returned. “Willard may have been an asshole, but he was a good cop. He saw things others missed.”

Mr. Howard nodded. “He had passion for his job.”

“Willard thought you killed Stephanie Coldstone,” Killgood said without emotion.

Mr. Howard straightened in his chair. Killgood had come to arrest him. No. On what evidence? Then what was it? To kill him? Killgood. His friend? Not likely. “I seem to remember you coming to my house with similar concerns.”

“Willard put together an interesting case against you.”

“But not interesting enough to take to the District Attorney.”

The muscles on the sides of Killgood’s face flexed as his jaw set. “You do know your way around the law, Professor.”

Mr. Howard considered the detective’s demeanor. Whatever friendship they enjoyed faded like a winter sun across a gray and desolate plain. “Do you believe I killed Stephanie Coldstone?”

“It doesn’t matter what I believe, only what I can prove.” Killgood walked to a chair and sat. He slouched in the seat. “I lied to Willard,” he said, and blew out a breath with a puff of air. “Willard asked if I had ever read your book about vampires and I said no. The truth is I read it several years ago.”

“What did you think of the book? And please, be honest.”

“I always wondered,” Killgood said. He sighed, his gaze on the table before him.

“If I was a vampire?”

Killgood nodded. “But everyone knows vampires aren’t real.”

To hear these words brought Mr. Howard a fleeting sense of relief. “And when Willard came to you suggesting I was a vampire you—”

“Stopped investigating.”

“Because you believed Willard had lost his mind?”

“Because I was afraid,” Killgood said in a low voice.

“Afraid?”

“Of something I didn’t understand. I knew vampires weren’t real and yet—”

“You considered me a threat to your family?”

“The thought did cross my mind.”

Mr. Howard tapped a finger against his lips.

“You were the one, not Susan, who did not want Reann and Gail coming to stay with me.”

I should have left for Florida last week. I could be on the beach right now with a stiff drink and soaking up the moonlight.

“That’s right.”

“I never would have harmed them.”

Killgood twisted his wedding band on his ring finger. “You killed Ryan, didn’t you? You killed him to protect Reann.”

“Do you honestly believe I would make that confession?”

Killgood pushed out of the chair. He paced in front of the table. “You kidnapped Alicia Whitmore to stop her from leading us to you. You took her to Van Adam’s house. There, you waited for his return and overpowered him. Inside the basement, you used your blood to transform Van Adams into a vampire. Knowing he would need fresh blood, you turned him loose on Alicia, locked him inside the basement, and rushed home to call me.”

Mr. Howard’s gaze returned to the window where mosquitoes pounded on the glass in a desperate search for blood.

First Willard figures out my plan and now Killgood. These cops are getting smarter by the minute.

“How did you come up with this theory?”

Killgood stopped pacing. “I blasted Van Adams a couple of times with my shotgun. The responding officers shot him as well. The man was nearly dead when they loaded him in the ambulance. An hour later, the E.R. doctors couldn’t locate a single wound on his body. People don’t spontaneously heal.”

“Are you sure you shot him? Perhaps you became confused due to all the blood in the room?”

Killgood scowled. “Don’t play games with me, Professor.”

“Van Adams is institutionalized, correct?”

“Yeah, up at Brook Haven. He attacked an orderly when they tried to wheel him outside. Started screaming, said he couldn’t be out in the sunlight. Chewed the poor bastard’s nose off. Now he wears a straight jacket and lives in a room with padded walls.”

“A most fitting end for the man, I must say.”

“You and Van Adams had a history,” Killgood said. “He tried for years to get you fired from the college.”

“And this is the reason I transformed him into a… vampire?” Mr. Howard leaned forward and flattened his hands on his desk. In the false light of the classroom, the purple in his veins deepened. “Are you here to arrest me?”

“If I could find a way to arrest you, I would.” Killgood shook his head. “I trusted you. You were a guest at my home.”

Mr. Howard rose from his chair and took a step toward Killgood who backed away. His right hand shot up toward his coat as if reaching for his gun. Mr. Howard stopped. “Are you frightened?”

Killgood swallowed hard. “Considering everything that’s happened, yes.”

“I have no reason to harm you.”

Killgood glanced toward the door as if looking to escape. “I heard you’re moving to Florida. Something tells me it won’t be long until the police in Florida make your acquaintance.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Death follows you.” Killgood’s hand came down. “I think it’s time you get out of the psychic business.”

“Anything else?”

“Yeah. Don’t come back to Colorado. If you do, I’ll be waiting with a wooden stake.”

“Maybe you should have brought one with you.”

“Maybe,” Killgood agreed.

Mr. Howard returned to his desk and sat. He surveyed the classroom and tried to remember the faces of his students, but nothing came back to him. How could he forget them so soon? He would miss teaching, but it was time for a new beginning. Life would go on, at least for some. “Please give my best to your family, Detective.”

Killgood stared at him for several seconds with the expression of a child who had awakened from a nightmare before hurrying from the room.

An orange moon rose in full glory above the black water, casting pale beams onto the sandy beach. Mr. Howard walked barefoot, the tide surging onto land and creaming around his ankles. Behind him, the lights of beachfront houses and condos burned brightly against the night. Had Leslie already gone to bed? If she didn’t need to wake up early in the morning to babysit her granddaughter, he would drop by unannounced and sweep her into his arms. He was feeling lascivious and needed her to help release the tension building inside him. Four weeks in Jacksonville and they had only made love three times. That would not do.

The air, heavy with humidity, wrapped around him like a warm blanket. He resisted the urge to go for a late-night swim. As he strolled along the beach, feet sinking into wet sand with each step, Killgood’s warning repeated in his head. Would Killgood follow the Jacksonville news to see if the city experienced a sudden surge in homicides? Would he contact the Jacksonville police and give them his name?

No, if he wanted to see him captured, he would have helped Willard with his investigation. Poor, foolish Willard, with a mouthful of Ding Dongs, and the memory of a naked dwarf to sustain him in the afterlife. At least Killgood was smart enough to fear the consequences that came from persecuting a vampire.

He paused to watch the incoming waves. He had walked the earth nearly four hundred years and what was his legacy? A trail of tears marked his passage. There had to be more to this life. There must be a purpose.