When Saint Goes Marching In (12 page)

“Thank you,” Terry mumbled. “I feel like a failure. I couldn’t help her.”

“And even though a bottle was used versus his body, it still felt like an affair because a man was violating your wife in a sexual way. All of what you felt was normal, Terry. It’s really important that you acknowledge the feelings and don’t take it out on her. This is also about you, not just her. It’s about what you think a man should be doing and saying. You
are
a man, Terry. And Iris is your wife. She is the same woman you married. Nothing has changed and instead of letting this situation create distance between the two of you, use this terrible ordeal to bring you closer together.” Saint patted his back.

“How?” Terry asked, looking up at him, agony etched deep in his face.

“You were blessed that you two lived to see another day. No one else has survived this man.” Saint reached for Terry’s Bible and grabbed it. “That means that God saw fit to allow you to still enjoy one another. Don’t take one second for granted. Love her. Show her. Tell her you love her at least once a day. You said she is romantic; you need to be romantic, too. She shouldn’t be the one pursuing you – it should be mutual at this juncture. Take her out. Compliment her. Tell her what a great cook and wonderful mom she is. Those are the things she probably prides herself on.”

“It’s almost like you know her,” Terry said, taken aback. “That’s exactly how she is.”

“Starting right now, tonight, you show her how much you care and that you won’t let what happened to both of you ruin your marriage. I know it’s hard; you hadn’t been doing it probably even before what happened, but you have to try. She wants you to try. She wants you so badly, in all ways,” Saint said as he looked deeply into Terry’s eyes. “You’ve been given a second chance with your Queen. Use it to your advantage, don’t squander it. I suggest that Iris get some counseling to deal with the rape and I suggest you two find someone locally to receive marriage counseling. You are the type of couple people look up to. You’ve been through a lot together, no doubt, and you both deserve to be in love, and really feel that in the depths of your souls. Don’t let this lunatic steal what is rightfully yours. You deserve happiness.”

By now George was grinning from ear to ear. Saint knew just what he was thinking.
And this is why James needs you to be in his place. Why we all need you…

Iris walked into the family room, a smile on her face. “Now it isn’t a five course meal, but I did my best!” she said cheerfully.

“I’m sure it’s splendid,” George said as he stood.

Terry also stood and looked at Iris, warmth and love on his face.

The four entered the kitchen and sat down at the small, quaint kitchen table. The smell of fresh bread and home-made chicken stew and dumplings permeated the air. Large side salads were arranged perfectly on the table at each place setting.

Saint whispered in Terry’s ear, “She did this for
you
, not for us. She wants to spend time with you, she’s lonely. Remember that. Everything she does is to impress you, to win your love back because she thinks she’s lost it. You love her. Act like it.”

* * *

“George, I want to stop by Mundell Co. before we leave,” Saint said in the cab as they made their way to the airport the following morning. “We have a little time.”

George looked up over his thin rimmed reading glasses. “What for?”

“I’m curious about some of the people Terry works with. I want to see how they react to him.”

“Do you think it’s someone from his job?”

“Maybe. They are the only survivors. Terry and his wife may be the only people that this guy actually really knew that he went after. He didn’t kill Terry right away. It was like he hesitated to do so, and despite Terry’s injuries and the brutal attack he endured, he didn’t beat him to death. Perhaps the perpetrator really didn’t want to. People like this don’t hesitate often because they really don’t have a conscious, so something caused him to slow down. A prior relationship could be the perfect explanation. His face was covered this time. He’d only done that one other time from what we know, according to witness accounts and the police records actually and that crime happened the same day, earlier in the day, and was a lot sloppier, almost like it was a practice run, like he needed to get brave to go over to Terry’s house first. He has killed everyone else and even though the neighbor came, he had plenty of time to murder both of them. He also didn’t follow his usual MO of having intercourse with the woman for the sexual assault that he is apparently so fond of. Instead, he used a prosthetic, so to speak. Something just isn’t adding up here,” Saint said as he automatically responded to a text message from his best friend, Raphael. “Sexual sadists oftentimes use tools, but this seemed less thought out. He almost did it as a second thought – running back into the kitchen to grab anything that was phallic like.”

“This is why we pay you the big bucks,” George said with a twinkle in his eye. “Driver, take us to the Mundell plant please.”

* * *

“You see him over there?” Saint said as he nursed a hot cup of green tea on the truck dock.

George, who stood next to him, nodded his reply.

“That’s the goofball Terry was talking about and he’s right,” Saint laughed. “Dude is goofy as fuck but thinks he’s Mr. Wonderful. He must be related to you, George.”

George rolled his eyes at Saint and continued to look around.

“I asked the nightshift line manager who he was. I doubt this Clarence guy is him. He talks too much, look at him. He’s dumb but confident. The person we are after is introverted and not confrontational unless he is going through one of his paranoid episodes. He’d have a history of rejection as it pertains to love and sex and doesn’t function well with women romantically on any level.” Saint continued to scope the area as he spoke.

“Then basically he’s a sociopath, like you said,” George grimaced.

“Most likely,” Saint answered. “I don’t know how long we can continue standing here pretending to be auditors.” Saint laughed, but not with mirth.

 “You think quickly on your feet, that’s for sure. I’m surprised they bought it.”

“They’re in a hurry and have a lot to do.” Saint tried in vain to catch a glimpse of Stanley.

After some time, they walked out of the facility, back to the waiting cab. On their way out, Saint stopped in his tracks. He closed his eyes and inhaled the air deeply; his eyebrows furrowed as he pursed his lips. Saint looked around frantically.

He’s here
.
I can smell his hatred. This really stinks! It’s way worse than Lance
.

“What’s the problem?” George asked as he got into the cab.

“Nothing. Wait right here. I want to check out one more thing,” Saint said hurriedly before sprinting off through the parking lot.

He stood in the middle of the parking lot and evaluated all the multi-colored cars, feeling lost in the sea of metal, hues and black rubber. He glanced around from side to side as he swiftly made his way down the football field length of the parking lot. He came upon a white 1994 Honda Accord. The odor of cigarette smoke bellowed out. A man was slumped down inside, his eyes closed and the windows cracked while a cigarette dangled from his twitching left hand.

Saint cautiously walked around to the right side of the car and peered inside. His chest began to heave and he suddenly had the urge to vomit. He quickly put distance between him and the car before he was seen and stood several feet away, trying to gain his composure.

Jesus! It’s like his soul is dead. No wonder no one notices him, he isn’t even really alive. He’s soulless.

Saint never imagined anyone like this existed. This was a whole new level of evil and damn that smell…

Saint coughed into his hand and walked back over to the car. This time, the man was looking directly at him. Their eyes locked for a long time.

“What do you want?” the man asked as he opened his car door and stepped out. “Do I know you?”

He threw his cigarette butt on the ground indignantly and ground it with his dirty blue and gray Nike sneaker.

“I was walking past and saw the smoke. I was concerned you may set yourself on fire,” Saint lied as he tried to get closer to him.

Stanley
cocked his head to the side. “Who are you? I’m on my break so don’t say I was slackin’ off,” he said as he shoved his hands into his pocket.

Saint took notice of the cut on his upper lip and the man’s get up comprised of a gray sweatshirt, slouchy brown stained pants, and a look of genuine utter confusion.

“My partner and I are here to conduct an audit and I was just pursuing the perimeter of the building. We’re finished now. Be careful with fire. You might get burned,” Saint warned as he started to back away.

“I’m always careful. Always,” Stanley retorted as he got back into his car and closed the door.

“Not always, Stanley, you’ve messed up. I know who you are, where you live, where you work and what you’ve done…and that for you is a
very
bad thing. From the odor coming off of your soul, or lack thereof, your ticket to Hell can’t come soon enough,” Saint said under his breath as he made his way back to the cab.

* * *

“And that’s why you ain’t gettin’ none!” Xenia teased.

“Getting none of what? Dinner? A present for Valentine’s Day? I know you couldn’t be saying what I think you’re saying. That’s grounds for dismissal,” Saint said as he picked dead insects and debris out of the swimming pool.

Xenia
laughed. “Why are you doing that? The pool guy will be here tomorrow. Come on in the house, the boys are sleeping.” She winked.

Saint turned on the set of brighter backyard lights so that he could see better. “I want to go swimming tonight. I know how you are about bugs so I’m trying to get them out.”

He extended the long pole with the net on the end of it again and again, removing more miscellaneous instant sea life.

“Um, you said
you
were going swimming. When did I enter into this equation? Besides, I just conditioned my hair.” Xenia smiled as she crossed her ankles and leaned against the side of the patio door.

“Don’t give me that Black women and your hair deal. You don’t have a relaxer or weave. There is no excuse. Your hair will just snap right back. You’re not dealing with a novice here,” Saint laughed.

“Don’t act like you know all about my hair just because you read a couple of Hype Hair magazines!” Xenia giggled and walked closer to him.

Saint’s grin widened. “Go upstairs and get on your bathing suit. Or…you could just skinny dip. No one can see you.” He pointed to their high hedges that surrounded the entire backyard like a tall, lush green fence.

“I like how you ignore me and go ahead with your plan of thought. You’ve been doing that since our first date.”

Xenia
looked on in disgust as she examined something Saint pulled out of the water.