(no subject)

29.
“Atlantis Rising”

“Everybody, please remain calm,” The Trooper said to those quivering in the lobby.

Pappy looked around the room, and calm was something no one was going to achieve.

He walked with Tooley and Archie as they were taken to be cared for, and then he returned to find out just what was going to happen next.

Porter Gates was out in the field, along with his top men, trying to find the shooter.

Sebastian Freemont was sitting in the corner talking to the two reporters who were still standing. Freemont was wiping the deluge of perspiration that was cascading off his forehead.

The Barsimmon boy was speaking on the phone with someone in a rather heated conversation, while his father and sister were looking rather pale while sitting on a sofa at the far wall.

Hannibal edged toward the door, trying to get a look at the progress up on the hill.

“Mr. Agamemnon?” A female voice came from behind him. He turned to find a young nurse he didn’t recognize speaking to him. He wondered just what it was she was saying, but he was having a bit of trouble focusing.

“Scuse me, darlin’, what were you saying?” He finally urged out of his own mouth.

She smiled back at him, and then said, “I just wanted to know if you were alright. I’m checking everyone involved.”

He thought for a moment, did an internal inventory, and then said, “I think I’m alright, but then, what do I know?”

She smiled and then said, “If anything comes up that just seems wrong, let me know and we’ll have a doctor check you out. It’s not like they are going to go anywhere until the police find out that its okay out there.”

He nodded and turned to look back out at the hills.

Suddenly Sebastian Freemont stood at his side. “It’s just horrible, isn’t it?”

“It’s crazy,” Han said.

“It ruins my happiness on the sale of my white elephant,” The Mayor said.

Pappy turned and looked at him.

“Someone is buying Atlantis?”

He scowled at Pappy, and then said, “You know I hate that name. But, yes, Mr. Barsimmon is buying the whole acreage. He wants to build something there.”

“He wants to build a swamp museum?” Pappy joked.

“I don’t know what he wanted it for, but I am happy to be rid of it,” The Mayor said, “There are just too many bad things to remember about the place.”

At that point, 4 shots exploded in the distance.

Was it possible it was all starting again?

 

© 2005 by C. Wayne Owens

(no subject)

30.
“Wrapped Up In a Bloody Bow”

The shots had not been the light ripping sound of the rifle bullets, but more like the heavy thunder of side arms. The shots probably came from Police guns.

The reporters crowded past him into the window area, trying vainly to see anything. It would be ten minutes before there would be anything to see.

Every theory you could imagine flew around the room.

“Maybe he had another gun and was laying in wait for the cops.”

“Maybe one of the parents found him while he was shooting at us.”

“They may have lost him and shot each other by mistake.”

“Maybe the rifleman was a copycat and the real killer caught him.”

It was amazing to Hannibal how much energy people were able to expend on rehashing possibilities that might or might not ever come into the realm of actual investigation.

Then, at the top of the hill, came a sight that was greeted with an urge to applaud that was, thankfully, quelled.

Porter Gates was carrying a body over his shoulder. Other police officers were following him, they all seemed to be smiling and joking among themselves.

Just from the man’s clothes Pappy made an identity connection. The outfit was a janitor’s uniform that was normal uniform for the local school custodians.

He believed the deceased was Wiley Earl. The man had been a suspect in the early killings, but then most everybody had been at one time or another, and nothing was every really concrete in the case.

As Gates drew closer it was obvious that at least two of the shots they had heard had impacted on the man’s head. The man’s face was barely recognizable as such.

As the State Trooper got to the door of the hospital he did not, as one might expect, enter. Instead he dropped the body of the man he had carried down onto the ground. He might have been presenting a fish for cleaning.

His shoulder was covered with the dead man’s blood, but he did not move to wipe it off. He wore it. He wore it as a badge of success. He beamed as the reporters exited the hospital and began taking pictures and asking questions. They had a lot to say to the man who had killed the monster who perpetrated the “Setonville Summer Murders.”

 

© 2005 by C. Wayne Owens

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