 
### Simplicity Lane

_Lethal greed exists in places goodness is ignorant of_.

### By Steven S. Walsky

Copyright 2007 by Steven S. Walsky

Smashwords Edition

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_Simplicity Lane_ is a work of fiction; to include the village of Tamplation, Simplicity Lane, places described in the village, surrounding towns, events therein, and the people participating in the story.

— **////—**

Jumping Rope

Tap, tap, tap

don't look back

tap, tap, tap

eyes straight ahead

tap, tap, tap

jingle in your pocket,

waking up the dead.

Tap, tap, tap

Timothy has a secret

tap, tap, tap

Mary has the key

tap, tap, tap

hanging from the rafters,

falling to your knees.

Tap, tap, tap

toys in the attic

tap, tap, tap

book on the floor

tap, tap, tap

hiding in the darkness

he's coming through the door

— **////—**

### Chapter One

August 3, 1965

" _When death is the greatest danger, one hopes for life; but when one becomes acquainted with an even more dreadful danger, one hopes for death. So when the danger is so great that death has become one's hope, despair is the disconsolateness of not being able to die."_ ( _The Sickness Unto Death,_ by Danish philosopher Søren Kierkegaard, 1849.)

They say death comes slowly to a small town. Nevertheless, some overachieving historian will endeavor, attempt to pinpoint the watershed moment. The event so noted, the closing of an industry, a new highway, or possibly a natural disaster, is but an involuntary death throb of the corpse. But maybe, just maybe the real reason for death was a catastrophic loss of heart. The inhabitants simply lost their desire to be called townspeople, and the noted 'watershed moment' was merely the singular event that signaled the town had finally crossed the threshold from life.

The exact paradigm shift moment of death for the Village of Tamplation was so overlooked. Like a hospital emergency room, those fighting the individual symptoms could not see the overall picture; the vital signs of a terminal illness had been missed in uncharted waters.

What was pinpointed is most assuredly the funeral wake. For the Village of Tamplation, its wake commenced on a warm, humid Saturday night, the third of August, nineteen hundred and sixty-five.

Ned Hawkins was working late in the tin shed office from where he operated the Village of Tamplation Towing and Salvage Company. The thirty year old structure stood just off State Route 29; two hundred yards south of the Nice'N Good Diner and directly across from Oxford's – a two pump gas and go – and Coventry Opticians. Ned's trusty civil defense radio was providing mood 'music' as he brought the company accounts book up to date. Business had been good thanks to the tourist trade, antique hunters buying up anything that looked like the small town life they mocked while out of ear shot, and the occasional out-of-town visitor to the Village's principle source of income, the shirt factory. Then, being the only AAA hauler in the immediate area was very good for business. Cars were Ned's life, however he had a disdain for any car built after 1957; the last year Ned felt Detroit built anything decent.

For background chatter, Ned listened to the police band; least he upset himself by awakening repressed anger and memories brought to the fore by the fire band. Volunteer fireman Ned was now 'too old' to drive anything but the Village '57 Dodge Power Wagon brush truck, or the dogged '47 Mack 700 gallon tanker. He was resigned to sit by and watch the kids drive one-handed as they wolfed down Crystal Burgers held in the other, while listening to strange sounds called music; Ned was not sure who loves who in that _She Loves You_ song by those Beatles kids. Besides, the fire band was mostly static this time of night; except for the on the half-hour time checks. Been that way since 1961 when 'them airways control folks' in Washington said fire departments could not operate on the police frequency. If anything went up in flames his tone-actuated alert receiver would wake the dead. Ned was also sensible about physical activity. Not so old as to repair himself to some front porch rocker, yet old enough to know when not to exert himself; drive the wrecker on the easy calls and get the yougens to excel in feats of youthful exuberance like tire changing.

When the voice on the radio called out to Pepper and Harris for the third time, Ned looked up at the radio. "Damn, them two are probably stuffing Moon Pies in their dumb faces!" Ned spoke more to himself then to his old dog curled up on a rug by the door. Ned thought Officers Paul Pepper and Nathan Harris were too young to be police; let alone responsible enough to carry loaded weapons without parental supervision. Pepper was married to Ned's cousin's daughter. Harris was Ned's sister's middle child. Small town relations; everyone knew everyone, and everyone who stayed after high school wound up marring someone else that stayed after high school. Thankfully, out of town professionals – teachers, doctors, and ministers, etc. – brought acceptable donations to the village gene pool; albeit sometimes in unprofessional, one-sided ways.

Radio crackle, then "Pepper, damn it, get your butt on the horn!" The dispatcher, the Chief's daughter Susan, was obviously pissed. No doubt angry she was pulled away from her TV. The girl liked _Bewitched_ , and loved one of those kids on _My Three Sons_.

"Pepper?" Her voice now starting to show concern, because normally the 'get your butt' part got their butts on the radio. "Pepper?" Ned could hear the hesitant pause in Susan's voice. "Pepper?" Ned was now staring at the radio, waiting.

"Morgan, you copying?"

"Doing it love."

"Morgan, drop the love BS! The Chief wants you to go over to their area and check on them, pronto!" Her voice clearly worried.

"Will do. Probably goggle-eyeing that new waitress at Spanky's." And, thought Ned, 'it better not be Pepper.'

A man's voice replied, "Officer Morgan," it was Chief Danny 'Dan the Man' Kalt, "You get your ass over there and call me as soon as you spot them. Don't spook them. You just call. Got that!"

"Yes sir!" Morgan knew when to drop the BS, and this was one of those times. So Officer Jes Morgan, after one last kiss through the open window of his patrol car, turned off Roy Orbison, and started whistling _Oh, Pretty Woman_ as he eased out of his girlfriend's driveway and headed towards the east side of the village.

Ned put his pencil down and leaned back in his chair. "Those two are in deep shit, girl." The dog seemed to understand something was up and moved next to Ned's feet.

Five minutes. Six. Ned waited. Every now and then he would take a swig from his Royal Crown Cola. "You know dog, if them two dopes would just keep their minds on work, they might turn out to be halfway decent police officers."

"Susan, you there?"

"What's up Morgan?"

"Nothing. Don't see their car yet. You tell the Chief."

"You sure," knowing friends protect friends.

"Susan, just tell the Chief. Okay!"

"Okay!"

Fifteen minutes. Twenty minutes. Ned had lost interest in the ledger; he was absorbed by the silence emanating from the radio.

At 2051 hours Ned almost fell off his chair. In real life, not like in the movies, he had never heard anyone as scared as Morgan. Morgan's voice was chilling.

"Susan, put your father on." Morgan, no one, referred to the Chief as 'your father.'

"Morgan?"

"NOW!"

Susan was so flustered she left the talk button pushed, so Ned and the listening world could hear her calling the Chief, having to force the words out of her mouth.

Chief Kalt tossed the copy of Ian Fleming's _You Only Live Twice_ on his desk and flew to the mike, "Morgan, what the hell?"

"Chief..." in a tone reserved for the funeral home visitation room, "Chief they're dead." Morgan seemed too shocked to place emphases on his pronouncement.

At 2051 hours, on a warm, muggy night in August, the Village of Tamplation passed from irreversible cardiac arrest to handfuls of dirt tossed on a freshly lowered coffin.

Ned answered the wrecker call himself. Half out of the need to be there, to do something – even if it was only to pull the patrol car out of Stedman's Pond – and to be there as family. Ned's sister would appreciate his gesture. Pepper's wife would be too far in shock to care about anything.

The patrol car was easy to locate; simply follow the tire tracks from where the vehicle left the road and slid downward through the damp embankment into the pond. Once you walked close enough you could see the tail end of the Ford sticking out of the water. You could also see the tail of the vehicle sticking out of the water if you were standing on the porch of the house across from the pond. But Morgan never made it to the porch. He had put the cruiser in park when he could plainly see through the windshield their hands were tied behind their backs. On foot, he stopped as soon as he saw the two bodies – laying side-by-side half in the yard, half in the street – had blood pooling around their heads.

Officers Pepper and Harris lay dead on the gravel path, as if their bodies had been so arranged to point the way down the path, to the porch, to the door of the small wooden house at One Twenty-Three Simplicity Lane.

Pepper and Harris had died from single gunshot wounds to the back of the head. The initial report would say "the two Patrol Officers were in a kneeling position until the projectiles struck them, propelling them forward, faces meeting the ground. Two shots fired at the same time – if fired in sequence, the second Officer would have moved and the projectile would not have been centered on the back of the neck – thus indicating the possibly of at least two assailants." The final, official report would add that the bodies, now, as if by magic no longer 'Patrol Officers', were moved; likely realigned to ensure symmetrical positioning. Whoever shot Pepper and Harris took the time to arrange the bodies; this was not a haphazard murder.

Ned completed the recovery of the patrol car from the pond and hooked the vehicle up to his wrecker. The patrol car's windows had been rolled-up because the air condition, a symbol of pride for the Village Fathers, was on when it went into the pond; yet the vehicle still filled up with water. Even after the doors and trunk had long been opened, so the Crime Lab team could get pictures, the water continued to drain from the vehicle now tilted towards the sky, slung behind the wrecker. Ned reverently drove the wrecker to the State Police Crime Lab. He drove as if the bodies of Pepper and Harris were somehow still attached to the vehicle; as if they were now forever joined with the car. As Ned pulled away from the scene, Chief Kalt turned his head so no one would see the tears welling up. The scene took on an eerie quiet once the sound of the wrecker's engine memoried down the road. The actual bodies of his two dead Patrol Officers had been taken to the morgue an hour earlier in the Village's Cadillac Eight, Metropolitan ambulance. It was the departure of the patrol car that seemed to signal this surreal event was truth, not fiction. The officers would not be coming back.

To manage the wrecker backwards into the Crime Lab parking lot, so the hoisted vehicle would be rearward to the overhead bay door, Ned had to drive past the entrance to the fenced-in yard and then back in. Both sides of the street outside the Crime Lab were lined with the media and citizens. The media, unable to get into the yard, stood atop their vans, or pressed the lenses of their still and 16 mm cameras against the spaces in the chain link fence. Flashes of Number 5 bulbs and strobe lights lit up the area as Ned maneuvered his way through the crowd and into the yard. Ned felt disgust at their behavior. While there was nothing illegal or morally wrong, just their need to know, Ned felt the solemnity of the moment was lost. He kept his focus on the job, not wanting to make eye contact with any one particular person in the crowd; least his building anger would get the best of him. The wrecker was met by Crime Lab personnel who directed the unloading of the patrol car and its sequestering behind the overhead door.

As Ned was delivering his charge, the State Police were combing the crime scene looking for anything that would answer the 'who, what, why, when, and where' and explain, better yet define, the event. Les Winford, a twenty-six year veteran with a habit of chewing on an unlit cigar, was in charge. 'Les-the-Mess', referring to his gory work, was respected for his abilities and common sense. Yet, it would be disheartening work this day. For all of their efforts, all that was and would be known for certain was simply two Officers were shot dead, their patrol car ended up in the pond, and the responsible party was not identified. No one heard the shots; no one saw any suspicious individuals; no one heard or saw anything out of the ordinary; and there was no physical evidence found that even hinted that 'nothing' would become 'something.'

Officer Morgan meanwhile sat motionless on a hard-backed plastic hospital chair, except for eyes darting left, right, left, right in some sort of tattoo. He had been fine at the crime scene until Ned started to wrench the patrol car out of the pond. With each groan of the cable, as tension was applied, like the groan of awakening consciousness, Morgan slipped further into himself. He stood there until someone noticed him transfixed on the half submerged patrol car; shallow breathing, unblinking eyes. Now in the hospital under the supervision of Dr. Ray Price, Emergency Room, Morgan sat in the same motionless trance, with the exception of his eyes darting in their left, right, left, right tattoo.

When Morgan had first seen the two bodies he was unsure of what they were. Was it his mind playing tricks, protecting him. But as his patrol car closed in, as the forms grew larger, it became obvious they were bodies; soon it became obvious they were dead bodies.

Morgan managed to get out of his patrol car and he subconsciously remembered to follow a minimum of procedure, like taking precautions against an armed attack. Then Morgan knew he would not be attacked. He would later ask himself why he just knew this for a fact. Pepper and Harris were waiting for someone to find them. Someone else had long past left the scene of the crime. What Morgan forgot to do was call in his position and status before exiting the patrol car; the same basic procedural mistake made by Pepper and Harris. Thinking back over his actions, as their patrol car was being winched out of Stedman's Pond, Morgan recognized the potential of his mistake; the jeopardy he had placed himself in by becoming lost to the central control of the station. Morgan started to admonish himself; allowing the gravity of Pepper and Harris' mistake to pull him inward. Morgan lost control of his physical being.

A review of radio and in-vehicle patrol logs revealed nothing out of the ordinary except for the fact that Officers Pepper and Harris failed to respond to Susan's inquiries as to their location. There was no indication they veered from their patrol area. Simplicity Lane was not a side trip. Nil, zip, nada, nothing. The Crime Lab would report the same. Two Patrol Officers ceased to exist.

Chief Kalt was shattered. Les Winford was shattered. Officer Morgan was shattered. Ned, third generation born into the Village, lost the desire to live in Tamplation. The Village of Tamplation buried its dead, an act of shoveling dirt on its collective grave.

— **////—**

### Chapter Two

May, 2005

Millie Peterson eased the mouse on the pad, idly thinking about where to land the cursor. She had been 'idly thinking' far too long, "I need to get on with this," to herself, nevertheless too loud.

"Yep!" It was her boss.

"Okay, I get the message," with an added "BS" under her breath.

Her computer screen was displaying base information from newspaper articles arranged for cluster analysis. The clusters were groupings of the results of her searches, with each cluster representing key word terms that shared a relationship with each other. In theory, Millie needed only to select the largest cluster first. However that was theory. Real life required perception analysis – an understanding based on knowledge of the search criteria and desired results – to guide the choice. Thus, the largest cluster may not always be the one to start with. The hard part was to decide which groups made the cut. For 'death and tax rate' was equal in hits to 'death and displacement.' Personally, Millie was tired of 'death.'

Besides, Mille was not really interested in working any longer this afternoon because she had larger fish to fry; namely, her cheating boyfriend. Nevertheless, Millie did get paid to work, and no progress could mean redundancy; a word she had learned from the British detective novels she liked to read.

Millie made her decision and double-clicked on the cluster, opening it to reveal a list of article topics. She selected the topic with the most relevance and she double-clicked to reveal a list of the headlines. _Boy Hears Wall Talking_. Millie's eye caught the headline as if it was a neon sign. _Boy Hears Wall Talking_. Millie right clicked and dragged the item to the search box, adding it to a host of other interesting items. Yet for some reason, some unexplained reason, Millie's hand, working on its own, highlighted the item and hit print.

Handing a printed copy of the results to her boss, "Don't ask me how I got this for you. Maybe it was so out of it I found it interesting. Anyway, here's your future," a joke referring to making his promotion, but an unbeknownst prophesy. "I sent it electronically, but holding it your hands is so much...more real."

Ted Dantary took the article from Mille and read it slowly. " _Boy Hears Wall Talking_. May 20, 1965. _Freedom-Harold_ special. A six year old boy claims he hears a wall at his day care talking to him during nap time. So far Danny, a Village of Tamplation kindergartener, has amazed his family and neighbors by knowing in advance about the deaths of two villagers. Earlier this month Steff Nortin died as the result of a traffic accident, and Bessie Whatts died of natural causes a week later. The boy's parents are not concerned, believing the talking wall mischief is their son's way of dealing with, not understanding death..."

Tamplation? Ted knew that name. His grandparents and mom were from Tamplation. He also thought he knew Bessie Whatts. Why? Nortin did not ring a bell; however Bessie Whatts was somewhere in his memory banks. Ok, play word association. Bessie Whatts...shots...pots...dots... slots...cots...box...that was it, box. What did Bessie Whatts have to do with boxes? He was so engrossed thinking about the article he had forgotten Millie was still standing there.

"So, Teddy, you want me to stand here for the rest of the afternoon?"

"Sorry...Millicent! Run this one, you did good this time."

"I always do good...you just don't appreciate fine women," laughing as she went back to her work area, swinging her hips in a mock 'you'd love to, eat your heart out' rhythm.

Ted went back to memory lane. When did I hear her name? Granddad told me before he died...I was, what nine, ten...we were living in Maryland...Fort Meade. Mom knows about her, Bessie Whatts was...what did she say? Boxes of cookies. Bessie always had warm cookies for the children. But who was Nortin?

He knew very little about Tamplation. Ted's family rarely, if ever mentioned life before his parents got married and the Army became their collective family history. It was the spring his family moved to Fort Meade that his grandfather visited. It would be the last time Ted saw his grandfather, who died the following winter. Ted thought about that particular time. He was too young to really care one way or the other about some town, ('no village, got to get that right') that meant nothing to a ten-year old. Now, space travel and wild game hunting in Africa would have kept his rapt attention.

But a village of seemingly no importance? Nope, that was not interesting enough for a ten-year old to remember. His grandfather persevered and explained how the family moved from the Village when Ted's mom was six; yet stopped short of explaining why. Nor did his grandfather mention that grandma was upset about the move. This Ted knew because he once overheard his mom and grandma talking about the move, both were crying. The family history Ted knew was that of his dad's; where he grew up, how he met his mom, when they got married, and the Army years that followed.

"Teddy, you awake in there?" Millie was once more standing next to his desk, curiosity reflected in her eyes as she watched Ted awaken from his daydreaming.

"My mom's home town," holding the newspaper article up as if Millie was not aware of the article. "The article is about my Mom's home town."

"Damn, no wonder the cloudy eyes. You know the boy?"

"Millie, I know you think at twenty-six I am well advanced in years, but the boy would be, what?" Looking at the date on the article, "forty-six and downright past the point of 'cognizance of living' to a twenty year old like yourself. And by the way, the WAY you swung those hips a few minutes ago, you are getting too..." He saw her look of 'okay dad ease up' and decided to drop it. "My family, before my mom met my dad, moved from Tamplation. My granddad told me a few stories, but that was when I was ten. Seems as if Tamplation was forgotten memories to the family."

"To others as well," handing him a printout. "Some very interesting items popped up, look. The village seemed to rise up the bell curve of newsliness, then, right at its apex, about a year after the talking wall story, gone. Drops off the face of the earth, so to speak."

Ted looked at the list of stories and the dates and had absolutely no clear idea why the stories just stop in 1966. "One reason could be all the old papers may not have made it to microfilm records, or from microfilm to electronic copies." Millie just looked at him like he was really stupid if he believed what he just said. Sure there were lost articles, or at least paper and microfilm records that needed to be reviewed manually, nevertheless the printout she hand just handed him indicated a sudden unexplained news blackout. It had to be a news blackout, because people continue to make news every day.

Millie's look was not lost on Ted. Almost to himself, "Forgotten memories of my family seem to fit a forgotten village." He put the new printout on his desk and looked back up at Millie. She may be twenty, but she was one of the brightest students at the University. Millie was worldly beyond her years; having spent most of her life overseas attending international schools. Then again, she had no understanding of small town America. "Let's go with Tamplation. At least for the next couple of weeks. Even if it does not pan out, you and I can get some good research experience, and maybe I'll learn something interesting about the family roots."

"You don't like the hip swish routine?" Millie loved to tease Ted, and maybe, you never know, he might drop his twenty-three year old girlfriend for a young vivacious, extremely pretty, well-built – no modesty problem here – soon to be twenty-one year old.

"Millie!"

"Okay boss," departing the area with a hip swing that almost knocked a chair over.

Millie could care less about the 'research experience.' Her motivation was sitting next to Ted as they researched and analyzed data. This was the order of business: you analyzed the current data to identify the direction and depth of additional research, leading to new data to analyze. This was a circular process. However always open to branch out, lest you got caught up in the old trap of writing the question to fit the answer. She thought sitting next to Ted was fun, and the closeness was exciting, even if Ted refused to show the interest in her she felt had to be lurking within. 'You never know,' she reminded herself. For Ted the closeness was not unpleasant; nevertheless it was professionally and personally taxing, as he felt the need to be careful with every gesture or word, spoken or unspoken.

Later, as he turned out the lights of University office they were using for the research, Ted jumped across the threshold of the doorway; one step faster than 'the Darkness Man;' the name he gave his lingering childhood dread of dark rooms. When both feet lit on the ground Ted realized what he had done and looked around the hallway to ensure no one had seen him. 'Shit, how many people cringe, and avoid walking down the stairs into a dark basement!' Now sitting in his 2001 Honda Civic, Ted thought about the Darkness Man and, like a thousand times before, he asked himself why a grown man was still leery of being in a room once he turned off the lights. 'Darkness Man is just a figment of an over active imagination,' he thought to himself as he used the rearview mirror to recheck the back seat for the second time.

Ted could vividly recall he was seven years old, the family was living at Fort Bragg and one day, 'a cold, dark, foreboding day' as he liked to remember it, he was sitting in the front room reading a book about fire engines. He liked the book because it had pictures of big red fire engines, with firemen, and a Dalmatian. Ted could read at a ninth grade level at age seven, nevertheless he still enjoyed children's picture books. He also had a child's imagination and could envision pirates anchoring their ship in the lake with the Jolly Roger flying high on the main mast, or jet fighters using the street in front of the house for a makeshift runway. Of course, along with a great imagination came the goblins that lived in the closets. Ted knew goblins were make-believe, but he couldn't help explaining away the strange noises coming from dark recesses as a playful goblin. On that late October day when Ted was seven years old, a goblin was really acting up in the attic; considering Ted could hear the racket down in the living room, which was on the first floor of the two-story house.

Closing his book, Ted walks to the steps and listens. No voices. Just a tap-tap-tap on the floor of the attic. Ted stands there for almost two minutes, just listening. "Code, that's code! Well, it sounds like code." There is no one else in earshot to hear Ted, as his parents are in the back yard occupied by conversation with some neighbors. Tap-tap-tap....tap-tap-tap. Ted puts one foot on the first step, and still thinking out loud, "If it's code, then maybe it's a spy using the attic as a hiding place." Two feet on the step. Now he makes his way up the stairs and stops on the landing. Ted is facing the door to the stairs to the attic. The tap-tap-tap is louder. "I bet it's a spy. I wonder how much money they will pay me for catching a spy? How much is a fire engine?" Ted walks to the door that leads to the attic and reaches for the door knob. The tap-tap-tap stops. He looks at the door knob, contemplating if he should turn it. The house is suddenly quiet. If he was older, Ted would have felt the stillness of the air.

Nothing. No tap-tap-tap. Did the spy hear him? Trying not to make a sound Ted slowly turns the knob. He eases the door open and looks cautiously into the stairway. Only the first step and half the second step are lit by the hallway light. Ted eases to the steps, bends, and squints to looks up the stairs into the dark silence. Outside the first threads of a thunderstorm begin to crackle, but Ted is too young to perceive the irony of this. He hears a faint tap-tap-tap and his spirits are lifted. The spy is still there! So he reaches out his hand to turn on the stairway light, then thinks 'Wait, the light will scare him and he'll run away.'

Onto the darkened stairway intrepid Ted ventures; slowly mounting the nine, steep steps leading to the attic. Just before his head would rise above the attic floor Ted stops and listens to a faint tap-tap-tap. Ted thinks about how much fire engines cost and the reward for catching a spy. He thinks about what he will say to the spy; settling on 'halt, who goes there,' just like the soldiers are taught to say.

Ted crouches to get a good running start. Suddenly he remembers he is holding his book. Ted lays the book down on the steps and then launches himself into the dark attic. Propelling himself into the center of the room, slamming face first into a stack of boxes. Unlike the storage boxes on TV – always empty and cascading to the ground – these were full and Ted bounces off them like a rubber ball coming off a concrete wall. Ted bounces back towards the stairs, his body hitting something firm. Not another box? It feels like a person. Ted, in a spilt second, has gone from running full tilt into the boxes to bouncing into...a person? He frantically tries to turn his head to see who it is, to ward off an attack from the spy. Just before Ted passes out he sees the face of the Darkness Man.

When Ted woke up his parents were sitting on the attic floor with him. Ted tries to get up, to run as fast and as far from the attic as he can, but his dad tells him to stay put until they can be sure there is nothing wrong with him. Ted's mom is cradling him in her lap.

What Ted does not realize is that his mom, looking down at his ashen face, saw the terror in Ted's eyes more correctly than his dad could ever know. Ted did not have to tell her about Darkness Man. Teal met 'him' at age six, the day he came for her twin brother Danny.

And Ted...he never did find his missing fire engine book.

— **////—**

### Chapter Three

June 25, 2005

The hot dogs were almost black and the hamburgers were still blood-red; yes, Ted's dad refused to listen when it came to timing what went on the grill. He also refused to remove any item until everything was ready; lest the guests fill up on the first items and skip the others. Nevertheless, free food was free food, and Ted did not make enough as a Research Team Leader at the University to pass up free food at mom and pop's.

As Ted relaxed on a lounge chair next to the pool he thought about how he should mention the Tamplation trip to his mom. Ted was sure his mom would be happy. However, considering the fact that Tamplation was not a word spoken in this household, Ted did not just want to blurt out about his plans to go there to interview people. His project was simple enough: he was comparing first-hand, or oral, accounts to the media accounts to identify any psychological divergences – excluding a commercial versus non-commercial objective - between the two versions. Was there a psychological explanation for the difference? Are people prejudiced, predisposed, or whatever, that caused what should be a mirror image to be askew? Millie was researching the written and oral documentation, while Ted analyzed the findings. The problem with the village was a lack of recorded oral history. It seems only outside media reporting existed, and that ended abruptly.

"Mom," easing into the conversation when she sat near him and dangled her feet in the pool, "I have to go out of town next week...to Tamplation." Teal turned her head to look at him. The plastic cup she was holding dropped from her hands into the pool; the contents of ice tea discolored the water for a few moments before dissipating. All the while, oblivious to the cup now bobbing up and down in the pool, Teal just looked at him; her face caught between disbelief of what she thought she had just heard Ted say and a sudden rush of memories. All Ted could do was say "Sorry, guess I should not have sprung that on you so fast?"

"You're going to Tamplation? Why?" now looking at the cup to avoid looking directly at Ted.

"The project. I'm going to use it as a test case."

"Why," a plea more than a question.

"Is there something wrong? I know we don't talk about Tamplation, so I thought you would be happy...well if not happy, at least pleased I'm taking an interest in the old family stomping grounds?"

"Ted...I am pleased," she lied, "it's just...your out of the blue pronouncement caught me by surprise." Then, as his mom kept her feet in the warmth of the pool, she turned slightly to better face him. Ted saw her eyes. They no longer shone teal, but seemed to be dim. He saw she was scared.

"You don't want me to go, do you?"

"Ted, I'm sorry, Tamplation is...it's not a place I have fond memories of. It's a long story."

"I know that grandma did not want to leave. When I was about eight you and Grandma were talking and crying about the move."

Pausing to measure her words, "It was not the act of moving itself, but the reason for the move."

Now it was Ted's turn to pause. He was not prepared for his mother's hesitancy. He had thought she would be pleased, that she would say how the family was so distraught about the move they refused to talk about it.

Teal saw Ted's discomfort and used retrieving the cup from the pool as a distraction. Her face away from Ted, "What have you learned about the place? What brought it up? There must be a million, gazillion small towns in this country?"

"There was this really interesting article about a six-year-old boy who heard..." Ted never got to finish his sentence. Teal had jerked her hand to her mouth and let out a moan...she slid off the edge into the pool and started to sob, to shake, to cry. His father came running to her, jumping into the pool so he could hold her in his arms. Ted had no idea why, or what caused this reaction. He was at a complete loss. Teal continued to cry – her face buried in Thomas Dantary's chest. Tom looked at his son, questioning what the hell was going on. Ted had no clue.

The scene was frozen in time. His mother crying while his father rocked her back and forth, comforting her with soft words, as Ted sat hypnotized.

After what seemed to be an eon, Tom was able to lead Teal from the pool to their bedroom, where she fell on the bed, blanket wrapped around her, now her sobs were turning to murmurs. Finally, Teal kissed Tom and with eyes and her hand signaled she wanted to be alone. Tom stood outside the bedroom, out of her view, for at least fifteen minutes; not leaving until he felt she was okay to be alone.

Tom found Ted still sitting by the pool with his head hung in his hands. Not sure of what happened; Tom tried not to jump to any conclusions. Obviously from Ted's reaction, the boy was also at a loss. "Ted, what happened?" "I told her I was going to Tamplation next week for my project." Ted could see his father register something in his mind. "Mom did not take it very well. But she seemed to be interested. She asked me what perked my interest in Tamplation and I started to tell her about a newspaper article about a six-year-old boy who heard walls talking," he saw the shift in his father's stance, his eyes widening in alarm, the tensing of his fingers, "she never let me get past the word 'heard'."

Tom took a second to think about a response, this was Teal's life and he did not want to go back on his promise – the promise she required before she said 'I do' – that he was to leave Tamplation alone. "Ted, your mom does not talk about Tamplation. Her memories of the village are not a subject of discussion." Tom was in a quandary. He wanted to put his son's mind at ease, to let him know all of this was not his fault, but he did not want to go back on his promise to Teal.

Before Tom had to make his decision a voice answered for him, "The boy in the article is my brother." Teal was standing behind them, having silently approached. The men were startled. Nevertheless, Ted keyed in on the word 'brother;' he did not know he had an uncle.

At her request, she led Ted into the house to sit in the afternoon restfulness of the living room. Tom did not follow them, knowing this was what Teal had silently asked.

Teal takes her time, as if catching her breath after a hard run. Ted is uneasy, still not sure what happened in the yard.

"Bessie Whatts was the Cookie Lady," Teal begins, "I have very little memory of Tamplation. I was only six when we left and the family did not talk about Tamplation, so much of what I am going to tell you is based on what granddad and grandma have told me. I think you need to know about the Cookie Lady first. Danny, my brother, and I went to this after school child care place because Mom and Dad both worked. Mom was a teacher and Dad worked at the shirt factory. Miss Bessie, the Cookie Lady is probably the one person I remember...no, the only person I 'have' to remember from Tamplation. She was old. I mean she was old, old. My Dad knew her when he was a kid, and I think it was the same for his dad. Ted, she was the heart of the village. How do I explain? My dad said "she had a heart as wide and deep as the Grand Canyon and when she died, the very essence of Tamplation died with her."

Teal and Danny were playing in the Miss Bow Peep block pile; the place where you could build a thousand things using the hundreds of colorful wooden blocks. Danny was the real builder. Teal, well she was the organizer even at age five years and eleven months. As Danny placed the last red block on their barn he told Teal that the wall talked to him. Teal look around questioning what Danny was talking about. Who was talking to him? "To me, the wall talks to me when we have timeout time."

"Does the wall tell you where Billy gets his candy from?"

"No Teal, it just tells me things."

"Things?"

"Yep. The wall told me Cookie Lady was dead."

"Dead?" as to the word itself.

"Like your gold fish Fin."

This upset Teal, as she loved the Cookie Lady. All the kids loved the Cookie Lady. The Cookie Lady always had warm cookies for the children and 'children' was not an age, but a designation because even young adults knew they were welcome to come to the Cookie Lady and get a warm cookie to ease life's burdens.

That night when she said her prayers, as the song of an indigo bunting entertained outside, Teal asked God not to flush the Cookie Lady down the toilet. Teal's mom, who was standing by the bed ready to tuck Teal in when her prayers were finished, did not know if she should laugh or what (?). Teal seemed so serious and concerned with her request.

"Teal honey, why would God want to flush Miss Whatts...down a toilet?"

"Oh Mom, Danny said she died like my Fin and she has to be flushed down the toilet!" Before Teal's mom could say anything, Teal started to cry, "I don't want her to die!"

Teal's mom reassured her that Miss Whatts was alive and well and they would go over there the next night. As for Danny, Mrs. Stedman was not very pleased and intended to have a few words with her son. With Teal in bed, Mrs. Stedman softly exited the room and, mind preoccupied on this revelation of Danny's, she bumped into her husband who was standing in the hall, having just come from Danny's room on the other side of their bed room. She silently signaled her husband to follow her downstairs and once in the living room, "Teal thinks Miss Whatts is dead and when people die they get flushed down the toilet like dead gold fish. We need to have a word with your son."

"My son, why is he 'my son' when he's in trouble? Besides," putting his arms around her hips and pulling her into an embrace, "maybe Danny has hit on a solution to the high cost of funerals."

"Dan, be serious," her hands against his chest – not really trying to push her way out of his arms, but letting him know that she was serious – "Why would Danny say Miss Whatts was dead?"

"Active imagination?"

"Yeah, like yours," sliding her hands up his chest and around his neck, bringing his lips to her own.

The next morning at breakfast the Stedman explained to their little ones that 'A' Miss Whatts was alive and well; 'B' people are not flushed down toilets when they die, and 'C' walls do not talk. While you can sometimes hear people talking on the other side of a wall, the one at Little Bow Peep is an outer wall of brick and on the second floor of a building at that. Nevertheless, Danny was insistent the wall talks when he takes his nap and it said the Cookie Lady was dead. That night the four Stedman visited the Cookie Lady and she was as fit as ever; even if ninety-three years old. The cookies were warm; tasty, oatmeal.

When the Stedman left the Cookie Lady's house they did not see the two men who were sitting in the nondescript car half a block up the street. The men had arrived after the Stedman had entered the house, but upon seeing a station wagon in the driveway they assumed the Cookie Lady had visitors. They stayed in the car for a while once the Stedman drove off. "She gets a lot of visitors." "We have time."

Bessie Whatts died two nights later. The cause was attributed to old age.

The entire Village of Tamplation and people from hundreds of miles around attended the funeral. It was Teal's first funeral and she would remember the long line of people waiting to pay their last respects. When the citizens of the Village of Tamplation silently passed by the open casket of Miss Whatts, the Cookie Lady, they silently knew they were paying their last respects to the heart, the binding thread of their community. Nothing would be the same after that day. As for Teal, with the death a reality, she was now convinced that Danny, not her parents, knew what was going on, and she earnestly looked around the funeral home for the big toilet the Cookie Lady was going to make her last trip in.

That last trip was on May 14, while Steff Nortin had died in a car accident on May 6th. Both events were before Teal and Danny turned six. The newspaper article was wrong about Danny's age and was also wrong about his premonition concerning Steff Nortin. Neither Danny, nor Teal, knew who Steff Nortin was. Danny only knew that the Breadman died and he had not told Teal. It was at the Cookie Lady's house the two children heard the Cookie Lady confirm the Breadman had died. When Teal told the Cookie Lady about the magical wall, Mrs. Stedman explained – less the toilet part – that the wall 'talked' to Danny, adding, "At least no one else is dead."

"The Breadman," piped up Danny. "The wall said he was dead." To the Steadman's horror the Cookie Lady said Danny was correct. The Breadman had died. Teal was now convinced that Danny had a magical friend.

The day after their visit with the Cookie Lady, Teal told a neighborhood friend about Danny knowing the Breadman was dead and that the Cookie Lady, "most have lost dead, because she is, like Fin." The boy asked her, "How do you know?" "Danny heard the wall talking."

The neighbor's child asked his father how someone could 'lose dead,' and a lost metaphor became parents telling parents. It was the name Breadman the newspaper reporter wrote down in his reporter's notebook during the human interest interview. 'Breadman' became Steff Nortin in the article. When Mr. Stedman read the article to the kids, Danny looked at Teal and shrugged his shoulders, wondering if Teal had the answer to who was Steff Nortin?

Teal stopped her story, sitting back deeper into her chair, momentarily lost in thought. She idly played with the top button of her blouse. "If Danny heard anything else from the wall he kept it to himself. We...we went on vacation to Aunt Bev's soon after. For Danny and me this was a watershed event. Look, Ted I never asked my dad or mom why a vibrant village became a ghost town. You're the psychologist," voiced a little too strongly, "sorry, didn't mean to sound so cold." Ted smiled and let his mom know no offense was taken.

"Ted nothing was the same after the Cookie Lady died. We were too young to understand, to appreciate the magnitude of change, but, you know I don't think anyone did, even my parents. And by the time I was old enough to ask the right questions we had long placed Tamplation in a box of forgotten mementos. I meant to be cold that time. Where was I...okay, we went on our yearly vacation the first week in August. While we were at Aunt Bev's two policemen were killed in front of our house in Tamplation."

Ted had seen the heading 'policemen killed' however, as with the rest of the material Millie had put together once Tamplation became the subject, the article was unread and in a folder back at the office. Considering the huge impact the death of the Cookie Lady had on Tamplation, he was sure the folder also held stories about her death and also about Steff Norten. Ted had a different project to get finished over the weekend and he knew should he start reading the new material he would become lost in the Tamplation project.

"My mom was the one who did not want to return to Tamplation, not my dad. She was spooked by the policemen's deaths and I also think it was the loss of desire to live in the village after Miss Whatts died. She took a job teaching in Atlanta and turned her back on the place her parents, her parent's parents, and their parents were born and raised." Teal looked at Ted and smiled, "You have been a great listener. I wish you had been this attentive when you were younger." Ted laughed.

"My dad agreed to the move, went back and brought our worldly possessions to Atlanta. Mom was able to get a job teaching easily enough and Dad went to work at the airport. Like I've told you, Atlanta became our home, our history, and it's where I met your father. At six years old I was...what...the family set out on a new adventure. The only thing of importance I remember about Tamplation is the Cookie Lady."

Teal would have liked to end the story there, but she knew Ted needed an explanation about his uncle's disappearance from the family. This was going to be uncomfortable. "Danny did not take the move as well as I did; he seemed to grow into himself. Now that I think about it, the change started before we moved, but it became more pronounced in Atlanta. He started to distance himself from me. That hurt because we had always been so tight as brother and sister. It was if he was scared for me to be near him. Not scared of me, nevertheless as if his presence was dangerous to me. At the time I thought he was mad at me for the trouble he got into thanks to my running at the mouth. But, no, it wasn't that. What I do know is that eventually, as I got older and made new friends, I did not miss being with him as much. Don't get me wrong, Danny did not hate me. No, his eyes told me that he adored me as a sister, just...just he needed to stay away from me."

Another pause. Teal turned her head and looked at the family picture over the fireplace; Teal, Tom, and Ted, the three 'T's. In a rush of words, "When Danny was fourteen he tried to kill himself." The too-the-point soberness of the statement caught Ted by surprise. Seeing Ted's reaction, "I'm sorry I had to get that out fast. Ted, I loved my brother. Even though he withdrew from the family, and became a loner, I still loved him deeply. We're twins and you should know that twins have an unexplainable bond between them." She used her hand to wipe the tears from her eyes. As Ted looked for a tissue, Teal said "Thanks for the thought, but I forgot to buy some."

Ted uses the moment to speak, "Mom, I understand how something like what you just told me could be so...so hard to talk about, so please don't think you have done anything wrong by not telling me sooner."

"I should have told you earlier. My brother was getting more and more into himself. Mom and Dad took him to doctors; however they just said he was going through a stage. Then it was teenage depression. Then it was coming home one day from the library and tying a rope around a rafter to hang himself. I was shattered." Catching her breath, "My Mom found him. The rope...he had stood on his toes on a chair and tied the rope to a rafter, and when he..." She stopped, looking straight ahead with both of her lips tucked in under her teeth. Then, "When he jumped, knocking over the chair, the part of the rope around his neck stayed loose and it slid up to his chin. Mom heard the noise in the attic and ran up there. She grabbed him and held him up as best she could while screaming for my Dad. Danny was taken to the hospital. When he had recovered he refused to see anyone in the family. He was unresponsive to the psychological assistance at the hospital, so he was institutionalized. We tried to visit him; he would just tell us to go away." Teal wanted to say something more, yet held off.

Ted, feeling she needed to be asked, "When was the last time you saw him?"

"On our sixteenth birthday. We went to the place to visit him. Visit? Wrong word, we went to sit in a room and watch Danny look at us. The doctors had no idea what was wrong with him. Danny carried on life in the place like he was eager to study and learn; he talked to the staff...but not us." Teal could not hold back the rush of tears, burying her head in her hands.

Ted did not know what to do. Thankfully Teal reacted to his plight and used her hand to signal she was OK. "When we were getting up to leave, my parents' backs were to Danny, I was still looking at him. I was so lost. Then, he puts his finger to his lips and smiles at me with the grin I had always sought when I needed the support of my brother. He reached out and handed me a little folded note and closed my fingers around it. Danny got up and walked away."

Teal reaches inside her blouse and withdraws the locket she always wears. "I keep the note in here. This is all I have of my brother. I never told Mom or Dad, and your father would never tell anyone; not even you. I waited till we got home, alone in my room, before I read it: _Teal, I will always love you. I understand what I did was dumb. It was my choice, a stupid choice, because I wanted to run from my demons. But you have to stay away from me. I love you so much and I don't want you to die like the Cookie Lady_." She needed a moment, adjusted herself on the seat cushion, "Ted, it...Danny was scared he was a danger to me. Not that he would hurt me, yet for some reason he felt his presence was a danger to me. I never went back, that was his wish. They let him go to a half-way house when he was eighteen. He left there and disappeared into a new life."

Fifteen minutes later Teal stood by the living room picture window watching Ted walk to his car. Tom, having said a quick goodbye to Ted in the backyard, now stood behind her. Teal watched Ted get in to the Honda, then leave the driveway. As the Honda grew smaller, Teal unconsciously took hold of the drape with her right hand. The feel of the velvet crush and brocade was cool to her hand; she idly twisted the fabric. Tom placed his arms around her waist and Teal leaned her head back against his shoulder. As the Honda turned a corner and was no longer in sight, Teal started to shake, "I did not tell him about the hardware store."

Tom saw her twisting the fabric; it became taut from her grasp. "I just could not tell him. I told him about the note from Danny, but not the hardware store Tom...I just could not tell him." Nor, could she ever tell Tom what she saw in Ted's eyes that day at Fort Bragg; when she was barely able to hide her own fear of what her son's eyes reflected. The fabric pulled tighter and Tom heard a snap as one of the plastic rings holding the drape to the rod broke. The snap was not like a hypnotist snapping his finger to waken you from a trance; no, for Teal it signaled she had once more lost her grip on the situation; awakening to the darkness.

As Teal started to cry, Tom gently reached for her hand and guided it away from the drape. Teal pulled Tom's hands snug around her waist, turned her head into his neck, and let the tears cascade. Tom knew the nightmares would return; he just prayed they were the old ones, not new ones about Ted's impending trip.

A week or so after the newspaper article about Danny was published, Teal and Danny were in downtown Tamplation with their dad. He took them to the hardware store. The store occupied a cavernous old place and Mr. Montgomery let them play Hide-and-Go-Seek in the unused rooms while their dad talked with the other men. The Stedman kids were good kids and Mr. Montgomery was not concerned. It was a hot July day and the store's windows and doors were opened to catch what little breeze there was.

Danny was good at the game and Teal always had trouble finding him. She had looked for at least twenty minutes, as there were a number of areas to hide in the backrooms and cellar.

Teal knew that Danny would probably go into one of the darker places to hide; he was so smart. Teal idolized her brother; even though she reminded him that she was ten minutes older. "Danny I know you're in there," Teal saw the last room, the one near an open door to the back alley. "You're caught Danny!" But Danny did not respond to her call. Teal did not like dark places and hesitated going into the room. However, if Danny was in there she had to go. So into the windowless room she went. Teal stayed to the right of the door frame knowing the light switch should be on the wall somewhere above her head. The room was so still. She called softly in an 'I found your voice,' "Danny? Oh, Danny." No reply, nevertheless she could hear his breathing coming from the far wall. Teal reached up, found the light switch and flicked on the overhead fixture.

What she saw was Danny standing frozen in fear with his back pressed against the wall; his face was ashen. He was staring at the wall to her left. Teal looked at her brother. It took a second before the scene registered. She did not want to look to her left, fearing what was there. Danny did not move. Then Teal felt the breathing, the harsh breathing. She tried not to look, but she did, and when she turned she saw him, the man. Her scream was stuck in her throat as she instinctively moved backwards towards Danny. When Teal saw the man sneer with such evil – his yellowed teeth, his bloodshot eyes – she screamed!! As the man advanced on her, she screamed; as he reached for her, she screamed; even after Danny had broken his trance and rushed at the man yelling "Leave my sister alone," she screamed, and screamed, and did not stop screaming until long after her father was hugging her and her face was buried deep in his arms.

The man was gone by the time the adults had made it to the storeroom where they found Teal standing in the center of the room screaming and Danny in front of her, still protecting her from the horror that had fled the room. She remembered the moment the man's fingers touched her shoulder, then sensed Danny rushing towards her, yelling at the man; then Teal's mind had blanked out the memory of everything until her father was holding her. They never found the man, and the whole episode was explained away as some tramp wondering through the village.

At first Danny was like a shadow to Teal, not wanting to leave her side. Then, Teal believed, as he got older and reasoned out the situation he came to believe that his presence was a threat. Danny never told Teal what the man had said to him before she walked into the room, nevertheless Teal knew the man had told Danny something and Danny was too scared to tell her. At six Teal could not reason it all out; but at sixteen she did.

— **////—**

### Chapter Four

June 30, 2005

The week of research had its ups and downs; particularly downs if you asked Millie. Her best blue dress was now stained with ink from a ruptured toner cartridge; her best friend Gloria was now dating her 'former' boyfriend, whom Millie had caught Saturday morning sneaking out of the apartment of Brit from the Biology Department; and to make matters worse, Ted announced an hour earlier that she would not be going to Tamplation with him; "Asshole."

"You say something?" Ted had just wandered back into the office from a meeting with the Department Chair.

"No. Besides, I'm not worth listening to, am I?"

Not sure if her comment was serious or not, Ted exercised some caution, "Millie I need you here to continue gathering data. We cannot stop the process, it's vital to the project...that's why you're doing it. No way am I going to jeopardize our work by allowing someone else to do it."

"Bullshit," oooopppps, realizing she probably had just lost her job, regardless of how 'vital' she was, "sorry," meaning it.

Ted recognized the problem, the one he had been avoiding every minute they sat next to each other these past few days, "You're mad that Connie is going with me," leaving off 'and not you.' "Millie, we have been over this road before. She's my girlfriend and she is going with me as my girlfriend, not as an assistant." As soon as he said this Ted could have kicked himself in the rear end, 'damn, that was smart.' "Millie..."

"I know my name Ted, get on with it, OK?" So much for caring about the job, this was love on the line.

Softly, for who knows how many times since Millie first broached the subject, "We are not making any progress in the Connie acceptance arena are we?"

"No," nevertheless her resignation was reflected in the way she avoided his eyes.

"I'm sorry Millie." Ted had a difficult time talking about this personal subject with Millie. Maybe this was why he never said the right words that could have ended the 'discussion' months ago. He liked Millie and thought she would make a fine girlfriend for someone, just not him.

Millie looked at him and forced a smile, "A woman needs to try. I'm sorry I allowed my feelings to interfere with the work, so...so, if you want to fire me, I'll understand." She waited for his response. This time not sure, not like in the past when they laughed it off. Ted shook his head, "No. You're the best research assistant around. So, even if you can be at times a pain in the butt and provocative as a woman, no. I want you to work with me."

Relieved, "And, I'm also sexy, pretty, and kind, sweet, and...well all those things too, so don't forget it!" Thus, another hip swish routine as she went to her desk. Ted, feeling as if he had once more barely made it through a raging storm, sighed a silent sigh of relief and sat down.

Making a snap decision, Ted informed Millie that she would have tomorrow off, a three-day weekend. They had completed as much of the research work as could be accomplished before he went to Tamplation and, more importantly Ted had to get a report completed before he left on the trip. With Millie's feelings to consider, there was no use pushing the envelope. Millie gratefully accepted the surprise day off, and as Ted left for the day he could hear her on the phone making an appointment to get her hair cut.

Arriving home from the University, Ted absent-mindedly tossed his keys on the old roll-top desk in the hallway by the front door and continued to read the list of articles on the printout that Millie had given him that afternoon. Still reading, Ted opened the fridge and grabbed the bottle of Diet Pepsi, then headed to the deck. The sun was still bright, so Ted positioned the deck chair to keep the Sun's rays from reflecting into his eyes. Sitting there idly reading the printout, taking a swig from the two liter bottle, Ted's attention was far from the world around him. He missed the slight crackling sound of foliage as someone eased between the pine trees, shrubbery, and the building. He also missed the cue of the unnatural silence; the summer tanager that filled the yard with song was nowhere to be heard.

A short time later Ted missed the sound of his front door opening and closing. Ted continued to read. Twenty minutes later the phone rang and, as Ted rose to reenter the house, his front door closed once again. The call was from Connie, asking about what clothes to pack for the trip.

Back to reading, now the articles themselves, Ted studied the rise and fall of Tamplation from the news scene. There was not much news of interest between the article on the Cookie Lady's death and the murder of the two policemen. Their deaths made national news, rendering that fateful August the "fifteen minutes of fame' for Tamplation. However, the unsolved murders were not enough to carry Tamplation in the national spotlight beyond mid-October, and by then, only back page articles, a few lines at best, were to be found.

What did perk Ted's interest was the sudden lack of articles of human interest that reflect the life of a town: Little Johnny winning the spelling bee; Mary Jo getting married on an island in the middle of the town lake; or two pet pigs found in Hanna Johson's living room eating the food placed there for the women's social. All articles of social interest, and even if not seen that way by too many people, articles that let people know they are not alone. It seemed as if Tamplation just stopped breathing. Ted read about the shirt factory closing due to a dwindling workforce, with too many employees leaving their jobs for employment elsewhere and too few applications. That was in August 1966. Ted was struck by the gravity of a population shift of such magnitude in one year. Not unheard of, however wouldn't it be noted as to what caused the shift?

Ted looked for something in the articles. Since there seemed to be nothing on the scale of a major flood or epidemic, Ted looked for items in the business sections, such as the sudden influx of more lucrative employment opportunities in neighboring towns. There was nothing. No Sears, no GM parts factory, no shopping center opening, nothing. 'What did Mom say?' Ted thought about what Teal had told him, people had lost their desire to live there. If that were the case, then, based on back dating the articles, the death of the Cookie Lady seemed to be the catalyst.

Reading time over, Ted got up to go inside. His ears hearing the summer tanager, and Ted realized the evening sounds had been missing earlier. 'That's strange,' he thought, 'wonder what he's been up to, or what spooked him? Oh well, probably Abby's cat. Besides, he should be in the woods anyway.' "Hay, don't you know it's dangerous hunting loose woman in the city."

The next morning Ted was late for work; could not find his damn car keys. It took a while to locate the spare set, and thankfully the maintenance man let him into the office; least he would have to call Security and have Greg or Phil make jokes about him becoming an absentminded professor. Nor did Ted tell Connie.

Ted fumbled around at the office, his mind lost to Tamplation. And thankfully, Millie was not in, because for days every time he would mention the word, Millie would rhyme it with temptation. Millie liked to use the word temptation and the project was fuel for the fire. It was the temptation of Tamplation, the temptation of Connieplation; but, alas, not Millieplation. On the subject of temptation, after some hundred word rhymes, Millie pointed out, for some unknown reason to Ted, that fighting ageing is a temptation. She thought, somewhere in time it would catch up with you anyway. However, not necessarily on your schedule. She had read a book once, that would surprise Ted, not a textbook, which she tended to scan over, but a real book; a novel.

The book spoke of a woman's fear of aging, recognizing men saw it differently, not that men were unconcerned about aging! Men, so said the author, accepted growing old as a life condition, irrevocable and unstoppable, and had to move on with their lives. Millie thought Ted was blind for not seeing her as 'old enough,' and, of course, passing up the clear, undisputable fact she was YOUNGER than Connie. The book Millie read also spoke of man's pragmatic approach to love. She felt Ted was also a fool for failing to see her as the woman of his dreams. And even more so, for failing to see her as a willing participant in the love game. Yes a game, thought Millie, a game with such rich rewards.

After work Ted decided to eat supper at a new place, a small café and bar advertising a jazz motif. Walking into the room, the soft jazz in the background immediately filled his senses and took his mind back to his second date with Connie at a small jazz club not far from the University. Ted chose the jazz club because it would be intimate; intimacy was what he wanted. She told him later she had second thoughts about going to the club with him. Connie was afraid that her take-it-or-leave-it attitude towards jazz would turn Ted off.

That was far from the truth. Ted had known instantly that nothing would ever 'turn him off' when it came to Connie. She learned that when she answered the door in her junk-around-the-apartment clothes, hair under a ball cap, and paint dropped hands and face. Ted was early for the date, way early. His car had broken down coincidently two blocks from her apartment and, with the car being towed to a garage, his house keys and cell phone left on the front seat, he walked to her apartment and figured either he would have to sit on the steps outside for three hours or ring her doorbell. Connie had opened the door thinking it was a neighbor who said she would stop over to help move the TV so Connie could paint behind it. And there was Ted.

"Guess I'm a little early."

"A few hours."

"Long story. Short answer is the car went up in smoke and I realized I had left all my junk on the front seat as the tow was already a block away."

"You come to steal my car?"

"No, but would you mind if I wait here until six...and I'll call the tow company about my stuff?"

"You expect me to believe you? You're already dressed to go out."

"Long story..."

"Ted, get your ass inside before every flying bug in the world does and they become stuck on the wet paint."

Connie closed the door, started to say something about her appearance, Ted preempted, "Before you tell me why you decided to paint the place before our date, and before I get the impression you wanted it to look nice when I brought you home, you know, to influence my decision to take you out again, I have already decided that. Here." Connie took the folded piece of paper Ted had removed from his pants pocket.

"What's this?"

"I was making a list of all of the places I want to go with you."

She laughed, "Tonight?"

"Only if we lived in Alaska and the night lasted a few months."

Connie wanted to say 'we would be married and in bed, not out on dates,' but knew that it was too sudden to mention marriage again.

So she stood there reading the list of places, smiling. Ted hesitantly reached out and brushed a few stray strands of hair from her face. She looked up at him. Ted smiled, "Your hands have paint on them, so I was helping."

"Bull, you wanted to touch my hair."

"Bull, I was helping."

"Ted, let's get something straight. You wanted an excuse to touch my hair. I liked it. Yes, I have paint on my hands. So, if you're next helping hand contribution is to lean your ass over and kiss me hello, do it so I can get back to painting." He did. Then he helped move the TV.

Later, they hardly heard the jazz anyway.

Shaking away the daydreaming, Ted looked around the café and noted the sparse gathering. He wondered if this was the norm. Eyes. He was noticed. How could he not be, there were only three couples and a few single men occupying the tables...the entire clientele was male. His self-consciousness level rose even higher when he realized he must have been grinning to himself thinking about Connie, 'Shit, the guy in the mauve shirt is smiling at me.' Ted moved quickly over to a waitress, "Just a Diet Pepsi, thanks, and the sandwich menu for take-out."

When Ted arrived back home he never noticed the slight rearrangement of the magazines on the coffee table, nor a picture of his mother now missing from the family photo album that laid forgotten in the hall closet. He did find his keys, they were in the oddest of places, in the bathroom, on top of the toilet tank. Ted did not remember leaving them there. In fact, Ted did not even remember going into the bathroom when he came home yesterday. "Damn, I need a vacation!"

Back at her apartment Millie slipped her door key into her bag, walked down the bright lit hallway to the exit door, and out to her car. Coincidences as they are, almost the same time Ted uttered his vacation pronouncement, Millie stepped onto the black tarmac of the parking lot only to notice her car window was down, she was sure it had been up, "oh well."

— **////—**

### Chapter Five

May 6, 1965

The path of the small black ants was an instinctive straight line between two points; only deviating to go around some immovable object, like the piece of red brick on the sidewalk. The ants moved in two purposeful undulating streams; one line towards their destination, and one line back to their hole under the rose bush next to the front door of the garden apartment. Industrious were the ants; labor intensive gatherers of sustenance located somewhere inside the apartment. Officer Paul Pepper stood in front of the door watching the ants, unknowing the ants were feasting on a brown bag lunch which lay rotting on the kitchenette table; unknowing that no one was inside the apartment to answer his second attempt to rouse the occupant by knocking on the door with his riot baton.

Officer Pepper thought the riot baton was a hoot and thanked the Civil Rights movement for his shiny new, really neat persuader. He also thanked the Federal Government for the Civil Defense dollars that paid for the air conditioner in the patrol car. "Hell," he told his wife, "not more than four people in the whole damn village have air in their cars!" And Pepper and Harris gave the air work regardless of the outside temperature; they would rather, and one day actually did, freeze their balls off, so to speak, running it in the dead of winter just to impress their buddies.

To say Officers Pepper and Harris were immature would be cruel; they were just kids who were learning to be adults. Unfortunately, they needed supervision every minute they were in uniform, and Chief Kalt just did not have the manpower to assign someone to ride with them; his department was far too small. So Chief 'Dan the Man' Kalt simply held his breadth each time the two Officers drove away from the station.

The call had been received at 1723 hours: "See the man at Landasary Apartments, reference eviction notice." Harris was the one who said they should finish their barbeque first, cause Spanky's pulled pork barbeque was too good let it go cold, "No rush. Damn, give the poor sap a few more minutes with a roof over his head." Pepper knew it was the waitress that consumed Harris' attention and not the food. But never mind, cause the slaw would soak through the roll if he did not attend to the mound in front of him. Regardless of what Harris got from Marry, Pepper did not complain about the extra-king-size servings Marry shoveled onto their plates; he did, however, pray each time she set their plates on the table that the owner, old man Dalsen, would not venture in while the mound was still visible.

Thus, Officers Harris and Pepper did not respond until 1815 hours. Now, as Pepper stood marveling at the ants, contemplating how many he could whack with the baton before they would give up and run, Harris sat in the air-conditioned 1964 Galaxie 500 V8 Police Interceptor. The landlord stood next to the front passenger side door. Harris beeped the horn, awakening Pepper from his baton ant-tisipation and back to the situation of the eviction notice.

So Pepper gave the door a healthy whack, another healthy whack, and 'what the shit' a third healthy whack. The sound of the whacking echoed up and down the street. The three young boys, who had stopped their game of tease the kitty when the patrol car pulled to the curb cheered. The landlord gave a short second to the idea of complaining about the damage Pepper was inflicting to the apartment's door; then was smart enough to keep this to himself.

As he got out of the car, Harris broke out in laughter and almost rolled on the ground. The landlord had no idea what was so funny. Then he noticed that Officer Pepper was picking his gun belt up off the ground. Harris could hardly contain himself, "Hay Pepper, you skinny shit, I told you to tighten the belt. But no, it's Pepper the gun slinger; you dumb shit!"

A neighbor's dog started barking, then a second, then a third; soon the dogs were joined by a woman yelling from an upper apartment "will you keep it down!"

Harris joined Pepper at the door and they passed each other a look of 'should we kick it in or ask the landlord to unlock it?' To the relief of the landlord, he joined the two Officers before they had made their decision and quickly unlocked the door. The three boys booed; a kicked-in door would be a great story.

Thankfully there was still enough light from the setting sun to illuminate the front part of the apartment, as the last thing Pepper and Harris wanted to do was enter a darkened establishment.

Pepper called out to anyone who might be in the apartment, "Police, we're coming in." Harris looked at him, and with a nod from Pepper, the two quickly entered; Harris to the right, Pepper to the left, their backs immediately against the wall on either side of the door. The landlord of course stood there in the fading sunlight, a perfect target, silhouetted by the door.

Harris yelled, "CLEAR."

Pepper yelled, "What the fuck are you yelling clear for?"

"You yell clear when the room is clear!"

Pepper just shook his head; 'maybe he needed a whack with Flash,' the name Pepper had given his new baton. Obviously the place was empty; this was a small efficiency apartment and you could see everything from the doorway. As Pepper started to look around, Harris told the landlord to get out of the doorway and wait for them outside; finding the light switch he turned on the ceiling light and shut the door on the landlord.

"Harris, why'd you close the door?"

"Pep, do you know who lives here?"

"Some guy named Nortin."

"Pep! Didn't the name Nortin ring any bells?"

"No...oh crap, that Nortin!"

"Correc-ta-mon-do, that Nortin. The one and only Mr. Dope Nortin."

"No, don't even say what you're thinking Harris, I've got a wife to think about!"

"Don't be a party-poop, I just don't want the landlord nosing around in here until we tell him it's safe...you know possible crime scene."

"The only crime would be you lifting something to smoke!"

"Is that a nice thing to say to your partner?"

"Harris, let's do a quick look, call the landlord in, and get back to our patrol."

Harris was already looking around, "Party-poop." The apartment was trashy and the rotting garbage, to include the brown bag lunch on the table, made the place stink. It reeked and Pepper wanted to exit as soon as possible. "Pep, look at this," Harris was holding up a small black book, "you think he worked the whores?"

"He would be lucky if a whore did him, let alone work for him."

Harris leafed through the book while Pepper completed his cursory look around and started for the door to call the landlord in. "PEP wait!"

"Harris..." but Pepper saw something in Harris's stance, his face that said Harris was bulldogging. "What now?"

"Look at this," holding the little black book out to Pepper. Taking the book from Harris, 'I'll amuse him' he started to idly leaf through the pages. That is until his eyes saw the notation on the fourth or fifth page, "$430,000 Tuesday!"

Harris knew he had hooked Pepper; hook, line and sinker. "Interesting enough to wait a sec before letting the asshole landlord in?"

"Damn, you think it's real...that's not small change!"

"No," in a serious tone, "let's sober up here and think about what we have."

"We have something that Chief needs to see!"

"Pepper, look at the page before the dollar signs." The previous page had two phone numbers, a five digit number, an address, and the notation, "Key to box. Money!"

Pepper scratched his right cheek lost in thought; then "What you make of this?"

"I think Ol' Nortin was to pick up the money and deliver it; probably while on his bread route."

"That's a lot of money!"

"Pep, I've never seen more than a few hundred, and that was when the bank lent me money for the Ford."

"Shit Harris, I don't think you and I together will make that much in twenty years!"

The landlord was growing impatient and called to them. Harris replied, "Just a few more minutes. We need to ensure this is not a crime scene!" "Well, you are getting a call on your car radio!" "Oh shit, we forgot to call in that we were leaving the car," and pocketing the book, Harris told Pepper to look around for things. As Harris headed for the door Pepper asked, "What things?"

"Anything that would go with the book, dumb shit."

Harris got to the patrol car just as Susan said, "Get your butts on the radio."

"Susie Q, how nice to hear your voice, what's happening?"

"Harris, where were you?"

"We took a leak. Didn't think it would take so long."

"What about the eviction notice?"

"We just entered the apartment, no one was there, so we're checking it for possible signs of a crime."

"So, where you take a leak, on the renter's sofa?"

"Susan, if I was not married..."

"Harris, you're not married and I doubt you will ever be married!"

"Look, we're fine...just need to complete the look-see and then turn the place over to the landlord."

"Well, call in before you go off on your look-sees!"

"Will do." Harris wiped his brow, and it was not from the heat of the day.

Passing the landlord on his way back into the house, "Be with you in a jiffy." As soon as he closed the door behind himself, Harris told Pepper about Susan's call, "Nothing to worry about, what did you find?"

"Thought you'd never ask," holding up a small brass key. Harris reached for the key, but Pepper snatched away from him. "Nope, you have the book, I have the key."

"Pep, what you make of it?"

"It's a locker key from the Greyhound station in Fair Oaks."

"How you know that?" Pressed for time Pepper did not belabor the point, "Been there, remember."

"So, we have a key that may hold four hundred and thirty-five thousand big ones?"

"Harris say dollars, drop the movie lingo."

"Fuck the pronunciation Pep, we have hit the gold mine! Put it out of sight. You think there's anything else?"

"I looked best I could and we're out of time in here."

"Yeah."

So Harris and Pepper called the landlord in, informed him of the standard line concerning evictions, and said to call if anything comes up.

However, in all of their enthusiasm for the book and key, Harris and Pepper never stopped to consider what Steff Nortin would say, nor did the Officers even wonder where Steff was.

The answer to where Steff Nortin was at the time Harris and Pepper were lifting his book and the key was not difficult. He was hiding in the garage bay of Oxford's; hunkered down behind crates of motor oil. He had been on the run for four days since he heard that Kate was dead. Without a car he could not get to Fair Oaks. The other hitch was the apartment; how was he going to get back to the apartment without being seen? Then, Steff was hungry. Even he was amazed that someone could worry about food when they were squeezed behind boxes of motor oil and being hunted by two thugs!

Steff had little to worry about Ricky and Donatien, at least for the moment, because they were sitting in a parked car on a side street watching the activity at Steff's apartment house. They both read the vibes emanating from the two cops who beat feet once they let the Super back in. When Ricky heard Donatien say, "The small one has something," he gave a sidewise, questioning glance. "See the way he has his hand against his pocket...he's subconsciously holding whatever it is through the pants."

Never surprised at the knowledge of Donatien, "You think they found the key?"

"Yeah, and bet yah a smoke they know what it's for."

"Your blowing smoke Donatien;" which was about as close to saying Donatien was wrong as Ricky was willing to bet his life on.

"Easy on, look at the face of the other one...he's already counting the take!"

"So we follow them?"

"Nah, they're cops, they aren't going anywhere while they're on duty; and we know how to find them." Sensing Ricky needed a further explanation, "Because they have a beat to follow."

Donatien tolerated Ricky as a partner because it gave him an outlet to express his vast knowledge of crime and punishment and, more importantly, Ricky was just smart enough to get the work done without constant supervision, while just dumb enough to believe in the false security that he was not expendable.

For his part, Ricky had a real fear of Donatien and cursed the day the two set out from The Block in Baltimore to locate where Kate had disappeared to. They had not even traveled twenty miles before Donatien shot a prostitute for not wanting to hump him in the back of the Continental. We're talking BAM – once to the head – and left on a side road south of Odenton. You take one look at Donatien, his eyes, and even a whore working North Avenue would turn her head. You could see the death in his eyes; eyes of a man who would pull the hammer on his own mother if ordered to do so. Though what you missed was his brain; the man was smart, university smart, and that made him a dangerous son-of-a-bitch; a fact that was not lost on Ricky. However, Ricky had yet to comprehend the consequences.

They had stopped for the night at a motel off US 1. Donatien waited in the car as Ricky got the room. Once inside Donatien took out the Smith and Wesson, sat down at the small table, and cleaned the weapon. Rickey watched him clean the big frame .357 Magnum with the precision of a Swiss watchmaker. Donatien finished cleaning the gun, put it back in his leather underarm as he walked over to the easy chair, and seemed to go to sleep as soon as his ass hit the seat cushion.

No bath, no nothing, just ass on cushion and eyes closed. Ricky knew better than think Donatien was less aware of his surroundings now that his eyes were closed. And more than that, Ricky had seen this guy off a whore, dump her body on a street, then emotionlessly clean his weapon and go to sleep. Rickey knew when to fear someone.

As Donatien 'slept' Rickey thought about the whore incident. After Donatien closed the car door, the whore lying on the street, Donatien said something in French to Rickey. Seeing a confused look on Ricky's face, "I said she was no Juliette...Juliette knew how to fuck." Even a high school dropout like Rickey knew Romeo and Juliet had no real sex in it, or he would have read it. Also, thought Rickey, the book was written by that Shakespeare guy who was from England, not a Frenchie.

On May 2nd Rickey watched Donatien off Kate soon after she told them Steff had a key to a locker and he had left the pouch with an unaware old broad. Back at their makeshift office Donatien vented his frustration and quickly made plans to have Steff take them to the money and then retrieve the bag from this old broad. Walking out the door of the office Donatien started to say something in French to Rickey, changed his mind and said in English, "Kate would have made Juliette proud."

Now the two sat in the old car watching the scene unfold at Steff's apartment. They waited in their car as the two cops pulled away and until the landlord came out, changed the lock on the door, locked it, walked to his car, and drove away. Ricky was about to start the motor when Donatien held out his hand to stop him. Then Donatien pointed at the three boys. Once Donatien was satisfied the boys and any other nosey neighbor would not tamper with the apartment he allowed Ricky to get them down the road to the Pins N' Suds, the village bowling alley; aka homeless shelter.

On the other side of Tamplation a wren sat motionless on a low branch of a dogwood tree watching the large gray tom cat slink through the grass. It was unlike the wren not to be singing. But nature gives birds and animals a sense of danger, a perspective that humans fail to grasp. So much for the theory that man is the smartest of the animals. The cat hunkered down, crawling slowly forward one paw at a time. Each paw placed slowly, cautiously, and silently in a ballet of natural instinct. Each step preceded by a pause, a sniffing of the air. The cat learned to hunt, not by watching, but from the genes it inherited from its parents. Natural instinct to hunt for the cat and the instinct of silent survivability for the wren. For Steff Nortin, well, there was not only a lack of natural survival instinct, Steff was over abundant in parasitic gluttony. The cat's exertion of energy was plain stupid to Steff. Such work for a meal, for anything, it proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that Steff was superior to the cat; to even most humans.

The garage bay door was open and Steff could observe the cat from his hiding place. He needed to take a leak really bad and figured the cat would be heading for the hills if anyone was near. Obviously the wren understood the cat far better than Steff, because when Steff walked out of the garage bay, but three feet from the cat, the cat did not even acknowledge his passing. Even more costly to Steff was his lack of respect for greed. Had Steff stayed in his hiding place, Fat Billy would have never noticed he was in the bay. As soon Fat Billy saw Steff through the office window he wasted no time in calling the guy who would pay $150 for Steff's location. The wren had far more patience and trust in instinct.

Donatien and Ricky received the call at Pins N' Suds. The lane mechanic passing on the information. Donatien sat in the back seat of the Continental, while Ricky drove. They had pulled into the bay so fast that Steff was taken by complete surprise, pinned between the boxes of oil and the wall. Now riding next to Donatien, he sweated in spite of the Continental's air.

Ricky drove them to Pinewood Lane while Donatien introduced himself – as Ebrueil - and reassured Steff that nothing was wrong; everything was going to work out, "OK?" Just tell him about the key and if anything else was left at the apartment. Since Donatien knew about the key there was no reason to panic, at least for today. It never entered Steff's head that Donatien should not know the key was at the apartment. Steff told Donatien about the small black book. Ricky, silently, correctly guessed that was what the other cop had when the two left the apartment; he also silently laughed at the stupid names this guy used; 'Ebrueil'?

Donatein did not press Steff about the pouch; they would get to that once they had the money.

Steff had a moment of terror when the Continental pulled to the side of the road in an area that was heavily wooded. "Steff," Donatien calming him down, "man you're still in. Look over there." Parked about a hundred feet ahead of them was a gray Chevy two door. "Here," handing Steff a key to the car, "you head on down to Fair Oaks and wait for us, while we get the key. And Steff, don't let anyone know where you're going, cause you're going to be a rich man in a few hours." Steff heard dollar signs and dashed out of the Continental as fast as his feet would carry him. He unlocked the Chevy, jumped in, and started the engine before Ricky had a chance to say goodbye.

The Chevy was not the cleanest vehicle, nonetheless far sweeter than being in the Continental; and besides this guy Ebrueil was actually glad to see him and gave him a car to get to Fair Oaks. Steff put the pedal to the metal and shot off down Pinewood like a rocket. He was just glad to get away from Ebrueil, to get away from Tamplation, and he was still in the game and heading for some serious cash.

Donatien watched the Chevy pick up speed, but kept Ricky from following until the Chevy started on the downward run of Pinewood.

Steff kept the Chevy floored. With the rear bumper of the Chevy now below the rise of the street, Donatien told Ricky to drive slow.

Steff was about seven hundred yards from where Pinewood makes a sharp dogleg to the left when he first touched the breaks; they were soft. At five hundred feet Steff realized something was seriously wrong, the brake pedal was flat to the floor and the car was picking up speed as the hill became steeper. Steff's last thought – as the Chevy left the road and made a dramatic second and a half of true flight, all four wheels momentarily leaving the ground, and the Chevy sailing into Harrison's Gorge – was "Damn, the fucking door latch is stuck."

Ricky went into shock at the intensity of the noise that echoed across the valley; BANG, CRUMPLE, BANG. "Damn Donatien, that dude just took one loud ride into hell!"

Donatien, although thankful he would not have to eventually waste a .357 slug on the asshole Breadman, made a mental note to use one on Fat Billy if the two cops did not lead them to the money. Donatien controlled his temper and let Ricky stop at a payphone and call in the accident.

Officer Morgan responded and told the volunteer firemen there was no rush. Susan asked who it was and Morgan, to tease her said "Don't know if there will be enough parts to tell."

The firemen arrived and recovered the body. Sid Blankenship recognized Nortin, "The bread truck driver."

"Who?"

"Steff Nortin, the guy did the bread deliveries. Lives at the Landasary Apartments."

"I buy mine at the...wait a sec...," Morgan radioed the information in to Susan, as the address sounded familiar.

Susan radioed Pepper, "Pepper, you listening?"

"Got ya Susan."

"You wish...you were out at the Landasary for an eviction"

"Yeah, the name was Nortin."

"Well don't wait for him because he may have just went down Harrison's Gorge in his car."

"That the call Morgan has?"

"Correct."

"Damn!" Pepper high-fived Harris; while Donatien – now Ebrueil - and Ricky were headed for their makeshift office below the Little Bow Peep daycare.

— **////—**

### Chapter Six

July 10, 2005

The fax arrived soon after Ted stopped in the office to pick up a notebook he had forgotten to take home. It was the morning of his trip to Tamplation. Nobody, including Millie, would be arriving at the facility on a weekend. Alone in the office, Ted was surprised to be receiving a fax so early. The fax was also surprising. No return address. The single sheet of paper, probably computer printed, simply stated:

The difference between a coincidence and a linked event is the perception of relationships. Your work on perception in a historical-event perspective is interesting and well worth the time to read and comment. You look for the 'link' between the cause and effect as the two points must be somehow connected. This is not unlike the popular idea that everyone in the world is connected to everyone else by some power of X individuals. Think outside the box Ted. There are events that are coincidental, nothing more. Yet, you are correct in viewing all points as contributing to the whole. Common man misses the 'whole' – trees versus forests – days versus years in our lives – thus missing the signs of approaching darkness.

Babies are said to enter this world with no preconceived awareness of danger; this I disagree. What is preconceived awareness? Babies react to negative stimuli; fear of falling, long before they can experience the sensation of hitting their heads on the ground. By what, six months (?) they start to recognize strangers; fear. A small child associates fear with objects of the whole. The child is startled by a bursting balloon and becomes terrified at the sight of a balloon. The strangely dressed, foreign, aggressive clown scares the child. The child associates the breathing apparatus of the fireman with the 'masked' made-up face of the clown and hides under the bed – secreted away – safe from the 'clown,' but open to the flames.

_But enough of that. We'll have time to discuss this later_.

The fax was not signed.

Ted could not decide what to make of it. His cell phone rang. It was Connie saying it was getting late and Ted needed to get his rear in gear. Ted put the fax in his pocket. He would not completely forget about the fax; then, his mind was pre-occupied of thoughts of research, adventure, and Connie.

Ted and Connie finally arrived in Tamplation the following day too late in the evening to do much more than check into the motel, eat something, and settle in for the night.

After a quick breakfast they drove around Tamplation to get a lay of the land. Ted had made a mental list of all the places he wanted to visit; those businesses and community places that appeared to be 'old' Tamplation. Places where oral records would most likely be found amongst the older residence congregating. Traffic ran hot and cold; relative, this was nowhere near Atlanta or Baltimore on a Sunday, and definitely not New York. In the new sections there were people and cars; in the old sections there was 'morose.' When Ted mentioned how the older areas were almost dead to movement, Connie chided him for his choice of verbs.

They stopped at one of the three volunteer fire stations, but the youngsters on duty had no recollections of old Tamplation. The building did have some interesting photographs on the walls. 1950's and sixties stuff. To Ted the views of the village were haunting, "Ghosts of the past."

Once again Connie pointed out Ted's use of verbs, "You ever read a magazine and feel ghosts are looking over your shoulder?"

"Not that I can say...what do mean?"

"Say you are reading about a rock band from the sixties, doesn't it seem eerie. I mean...it's like another world, and then they mention this old guy who was lead guitar like he is still in his twenties, but pushing seventy."

"That's ghosts?"

"He's a ghost from the past and, I might add, the closest I want to come to one!"

"Constance, you been smoking?"

"Sixties talk?"

"Hell if I know; some line I heard on TV."

"Theodore Cleaver, you're not allowed to watch TV until your homework is completed and I check it."

Ted laughed, "Yes, mom."

"Besides, you don't watch TV."

"I do too."

"Stop! We're talking like we're twelve year olds."

"You want to explore puberty?"

"Ted...later, ok."

"How much later?"

"TED."

Sex with Connie was the one thing Ted had ever done in his life that he knew his parents would not approve of. Sure he had been intimate with women; close, extra friendly, hand on breast under top. Not 'going all the way' intimate. 'Virgin intimate,' as his best friend called it. Even lost virginity was a single act. Going back for seconds, thirds, was a different story and it worried him they would find out. Connie sensed this and subtlety teased him. Ted was a 'good' son, a good person, and nothing was wrong with that. She just wished he would ease up and jump her in the car. Not shyly ask permission; just jump her. Connie loved him, knew she would marry him, and took charge. Connie was not sex crazy; she was just plain crazy about Ted and she knew he had to participate or the mood would be lost to a life of "honey, you think, well maybe, you know...tonight."

On their first date she decided Ted was shy; not a cold fish or a gay fish. She wondered how he could be so much in love with her yet still be scared to death to KISS her. She took care of that problem on date two. She decided it was time to start teaching Ted the difference between a wonderful togetherness hug and a 'get-us-in-the-mood-hug' by grabbing his left hand, which at least was on her hip, and placing it on her rear, "This is called groping Ted." Once Ted caught on he became one decent hugger.

Thankfully Ted was a quick learner, even if he was a good person and fretted his parents would find out.

Finished with her own daydreaming, Connie looked at Ted, wondering why they were still parked next to the firehouse. Ted was looking across the street in his own world. A gentle tap on his shoulder brought Ted back to Tamplation. "You can go in."

"You sure?"

"Yes, It's either that or listening to you moan the rest of the morning."

"Thanks!"

"Don't worry, you owe me...a good cup of coffee and a scone, and a..."

"Can I take my thanks back?"

"Nope!"

They got out and walked across the street to the Fluff and Dry Laundromat; a two story building that had a worn-out neon sign over a huge window that allowed all outside to see all inside. Behind the burnt-out neon tubes was painted "25 ¢ a load – folded!" Connie laughed, "Times they are a-change-ing." Ted took a second to realize she was making a pun. He loved the way she could quip so effortlessly. He also loved the way her abs tightened when he softly nibbled across her stomach. Ted may always be a 'good boy' who never hurt anyone, nor be disrespectful, or a cheat, but, nevertheless, he was becoming a great lover.

Ted noted that while the place was old, the machines were 'new;' apparently a relative term for Laundromats. "They seem to be in good shape and clean."

"They're clean." The voice was coming from behind the row of dryers.

Ted called hello to the voice.

"No point in yelling. With the equipment off, the talk bounces off the ceiling. I can hear a hanger drop on the other side of the place."

"What are you doing? Cleaning the lint traps?"

"Good guess, or are you familiar with Laundromats?"

"Familiar. Typical college student...poor college student."

"Who's momma said come home to visit, but don't expect me to do your washing."

Connie laughed, "You have that right."

"No bickering allowed; house rules," as the voice came walking around the row of dryers, "I'm Mack, or Hay Mack, most of the time."

Ted reached out and shook Mack's hand, "I'm Ted and this is Connie." Mack looked at Ted and blinked, then, still thinking, he turned and looked at Connie, "You're too young to be his mom, and he dotes on you too much to be his sister or wife, so I guess you're his girlfriend."

"Too late to deny it, uh?"

"Yep."

Mack looked back at Ted, "You here visiting relatives?"

"Sort of. My family used to live here."

"Stedman family, from Stedman Pond."

"How...?"

"Teal eyes. You're Teal Stedman's son, right?"

"Yes."

"How is little...guess that's wrong; how is your mom?"

"She's okay. You remember her...it's been a long time."

"Not that long Ted. Hell, you're what, mid-twenties?"

"Yes."

"Your grandma used to bring Teal and..." he paused.

"My uncle Danny."

"Right. She would bring them here. Turned her back on them one day to get some more soap and your uncle Danny tried to push Teal into one of the dryers so she could take a ride. Good thing another customer stopped him. Teal, she was so upset she had missed a chance to ride, I doubt she felt your grandma's hand on her bottom."

Ted bumped his hip into Connie's, "Good ammunition."

"Sure Ted, if you value your life!"

"So young Ted, what brings you back to Tamplation? The wild night life? Well we do have some interesting bars with new town and all. Not like when I was your age."

"That's why we're here. I'm interested in what Tamplation was like in the fifties and sixties. Doing research for the University. Could have picked just any place, but this is where my family comes from, at least my mom's side, and it's important to me personally."

"Did I mention your mom and uncle were two of the most polite little tikes...other than the dryer incident, of course."

"People keep reminding me of that."

Connie laughed, "Ted's too polite."

Looking at Connie, then Mack, "She hates when I say yes Ma'am"

Mack winked at Connie, "Cause she's way to young to be a Ma'am." Ted liked Mack; good sense of humor.

They talked about the street the Laundromat was on and how it had changed over the years. The change in customers, their jobs, dress, and recreation. Mack told Ted about the history of the motorized washer. How his granddad bought a Maytag Model 72 aluminum tub multi-motor in 1923. Tinkered with it and opened his Drop-off Laundry in '28.

"Had three Model 82's. Yet, even with the introduction of a double main bearing the washers were prone to break down cause of the more than average use. After reading about a new business idea in 1940, Gran, my dad helping out, with six Model J's, the first really dependable machines, transitioned this place to self-service. Course we switched to commercial machines in '53. They were coin machines. Until then, this place was really not like the places you remember."

Mack said in 1957 the place became the first 24 hour establishment in the village. With the distance many customers had to travel, being open 24 hours allowed more people to use the place. "Always been someone attending the machines and watching out for the customers," Mack pointed this out with pride, since too many Laundromats have bad reputations; dirt, neglect, and crime.

They had coffee from a pot that had seen many years itself. And, two hours later they were talked out.

"Ted, why did he...go into so much detail about the Maytags?"

"That's his life...the real story of his life."

She hung back, "People don't care do they? People don't want to hear the finer points of a life, do they?"

"No. People like neat, short, to the point history."

"And they miss the Maytag model number."

Ted opened the car door, "They miss the human factor that joins real life to fiction. Mack told us a number of important things about this village and his relationship to it." Connie got in and Ted leaned towards her, "He told us that this small speck of civilization contains creative minds... and, life goes on around here 24 hours a day."

Nevertheless, Ted, feeling sorry Connie had to sit through this, told Connie how important this was for his research and how good it was to learn about Tamplation, "My family kept this place from me. I'm not mad. Just...I never felt it was right. It's not like they lived here a few years and then moved away. This place is a huge piece of my 'history.'"

They started the drive back to the motel.

— **////—**

### Chapter Seven

July 12, 2005

On the way back to the motel, seeing a small eatery, they decided to get some coffee. Ted made the trip inside, returning with coffee and a small bag for each of them, "Wonders will never cease in Tamplation; the place had scones. They ran out of cranberry, so I bought you cinnamon raisin." Scones and coffee in hand they started to stroll along the block. Ted eating his scone by reaching into the bag and breaking off pieces.

"TED," distracting him from his sudden intense scrutiny of an apparent empty building, "I know you are comparing oral to newspaper accounts, but wouldn't the staff of the town paper, themselves, be sources?"

"They have the same built in prejudices as the articles, prejudices both bad, and good."

"Good?"

"The make-up of small communities such as Tamplation puts substantial pressure on the local press if they want to maintain their sources." They spotted a bench provided by a store and took advantage of it to finish their scones, coffee, and conversation.

"Obviously on the negative side, the small town reporter is influenced by local politics and the 'money' person who pulls strings in the background. Actions that are magnified by the closeness of the population and their social and commercial interactions. Take that interaction and apply it to the relationships between the townspeople. Mack knew my Mom, polite child, ride in drier."

Finally sensing he is putting Connie to sleep, "In simple terms, the person you are telling the story to, knows the person the story is about. The reporter has to keep this in mind, both the choice of the article mood and the words used. The good part is the reporter tends to stick with the facts and not embellish into a fanciful story."

Connie thought for a second or two, "But, predisposition towards the powers-that-be still influences their choice and slant?"

"Yes and, more importantly, their 'reporter's' recollections can be far different from the 'person's' actual memories."

She looked at her scone. While it tasted ok, cinnamon raisin was not her favorite, "And that's why. Seems obvious."

"And of course during the time period there was no paper published in Tamplation itself. The 'local' paper was put together in Fair Oaks."

"YOU...you made me sit through a dissertation..."

"Remember last week when you went into a long explanation about a New York Times article on some artist."

"She is not SOME artist, she is...OK, I'll give you a point for payback."

"Great, that's two points since we got out of the car."

"Two?"

"The scones. They only had one cranberry left, so I ate it." Ted tossed the crumbled bag he had been eating from into a waste bin.

"Of all the..." Ted's raised index finger, halting her advance, "If I remember correctly you ate the rest of the mint chocolate chip ice cream before I made it home from work, and what did you tell me? Had to toss it out. Something about the freezer door being left open. All melted? Strange how nothing else was," using fingers as quotation marks, "melted."

"You're lucky Teal is not here to watch her son take advantage of me!" But Connie had already begun to laugh, "Get your rear up and let's get to the car before I punch you in the gut and your scone is on the sidewalk!"

Looking around at the nonexistent crowd, "Dangerous woman here folks, stand aside!"

They drove back to the motel and Connie took advantage of Ted.

Later, while Connie checked her emails, Ted typed up his mental notes from his conversation with Mack. Ted had learned to be a good listener and avoided taking notes during interviews, because a note pad and pen could be, and recording equipment definitely was, a turn-off for most subjects. He also hated using the term subject. These were people, not anonymous, de-humanized subjects.

Ted paused and looked at the computer screen. It had occurred to him something was missing from Mack's story. Mack was not an anonymous person. He had lived in Tamplation a long time and knew a lot about the place over the last sixty odd years. Yet there had been no real mention of Stedman Pond past the first comment. Ted understood, or at least he felt he did, the hesitancy and reluctance to mention his uncle. Yet now Ted was not so quick to accept Mack's reluctance at face value. Was the reluctance more than being polite? It was not just one thing – such as the missing Pond – but the underlining tone of the conversation. Oh, it was friendly and thoughtful. Then what? "Disassociation from the Pond...the distancing from it."

"You're talking to yourself."

"Sorry. Just thinking out loud."

Lunch was near the church Ted's family had attended and Ted made a mental note to stop in. He would have just then, but the barber shop caught his attention. Running his hand through Connie's hair, "You want a haircut miss?"

"Not in there, thank you."

"Would be a good ice breaker. You in the chair, legs crossed, dress riding up...well you would have to hike it up before you sat down. B, T, W, why the dress?"

"Will you stop calling me B, T, W, I do not text 'my little heart out'!"

Ted fought not to laugh.

"Besides, I have a huge heart. Maybe the question should be why am I wasting it on Mr. Computer Fat Fingers. To answer your question, the dress is conservativeness Ted. You want me to wear tight, tan line revealing shorts on our excursion in this small town morality play?"

He looked sideways at her, his face set in thought, "Thinking."

"B, T, W, I may have to slow down your loosen-up lessons."

The single story building was wedged between two three-story apartment buildings that, like the rest of the block, looked like early thirty's construction. This was probably the 'old' new town. Modern construction compared to the 1890s to 1920s architecture that constituted the village proper. Ted noticed the wood around the windows and the door frame was original, although the door had been recently replaced. He was sure the old one had a sign on it proclaiming 'Come on in, it's cool inside – Air Conditioned!'

There were three customers, or at least one man in a barber chair and two men sitting against the wall on chrome-legged, red cushioned chairs reading newspapers. Two barber chairs were empty; which seemed okay since there seemed to be only the one barber. Connie told Ted she would be back – checking out the local stores – and left. This was not her idea of fun and, besides, Ted did not need the distraction of another person.

"Afternoon son. Don't appear you need a haircut, so if it's to read the paper with Fred and Charles take a seat while the young lady spends your money."

"Perceptive. Hi, I'm Ted Dantary, my family used to live here and I'm visiting to learn about Tamplation first hand. I should also tell you that I am also working on a University project on small towns;" which sounded better than 'old, dead towns.'

"I'm Norm, the barber, and Chuck," motioning with his head towards the men seated against the wall, "here has been a resident longer than me, and he always has lots to say."

"Norm, once you're past seventy, age is irrelevant; besides you're only a year younger. Ted, I'm Chuck the Elder, cause there's another Chuck in town."

"Don't mind them Ted," the other seated men rose, extending his hand, "I'm Fred."

"And I'm Tucker," came from the barber chair.

Once all the hands were shaken, they talked. Fred taught at the college in Fair Oaks. Chuck the Elder owned the local feed store; which he bought after retiring from teaching at the local high school. And Tucker...he never did mention what he did.

Norm took the lead and, apropos for a barber, asked more questions than Ted, which was okay, because at times like this, answers and questions can be the same end to a quest for information. "Know you're going to ask Ted, the chairs are 1940 Theo A. Kocks originals. Shipped straight from Chicago. My late wife Ida chose the brown upholstery; said the chrome and brown would go real nice with the wall color." Norm, thought for a moment about his late wife and then looked back at Ted, "Dantary. Don't remember that name?"

"It was Stedman; my Mom's family."

"Meg Stedman...," Norm leaned forward to get a better look. The light now reflected off Ted's eyes. "Little Teal's son. You're little Teal's son!"

"Guess she grew some since the last time you saw her." They all laughed. Ted used the levity to cross the bridge, "Seems everyone knew my Mom and uncle."

Norm shook his head, smiled, "Sure. Your granddad got his hair cut here, and your uncle Danny's first hair cut...what a squirmer he was. Your grandma had to hold him still. Not sure who cried more when those curls fell to the floor."

Fred seemed to go silent; and Tucker, while not being able to turn his head while Norm slowly snipped away, looked like he wanted to. Odd, thought Ted. If it had not been for Norm's ramblings and Chuck's comments Ted felt the whole conversation would have grounded to a halt once the name Stedman was mentioned. But thankfully Norm and Chuck were bountiful sources of history. Unlike Mack, the two mentioned Stedman Pond and One Twenty-Three Simplicity Lane. Yet, it was always second person comments, not first person familiarization. Maybe not like Mack, but then again distancing none-the-less. The comments about the pond and house were in passing and unthreatening. Yet, each time the subject was touched on Fred and Tucker would withdraw a little further from the conversation.

Holding still in the chair, Tucker clearly wanted to leave, not just the conversation, the shop. He had no feelings one way or the other about the Stedman. He did feel sorry for the kids having that experience at the hardware store. Then the family moved away. Moved on like so many others. He silently remembered the Cookie Lady's funeral and still felt a twinge of sorrow and guilt. He was not sure why guilt. It was not like he had anything to do with her death. She died of a heart attack according to the Pastor. Tucker was supposed to take a basket of fruit to the Cookie Lady that evening—a gift from the church—and he went bowling instead. At the time he believed the next night was just as good. So, all these years later Tucker still felt a twinge of guilt; maybe if he had been there?

Using the hair cut as an excuse to stay out of the conversation, Tucker just listened. The last thing he needed was to excite Norm and get whacked with the scissors. Tucker did the weather and traffic on the local TV station and he could just hear the station personnel laughing, let alone the viewers; 'hay Tucker, what you do, get too close to the blender!'

Tucker also noticed Fred's reluctance to fully participate. He thought 'the man thinks too much!' 'Like I don't?' And his mind replayed the Cookie Lady's funeral. Everything seemed to start there. It was as if the villagers walked out of the funeral, got into their cars, and slowly drove out of town. Sure the mass migration got underway after Pepper and Harris were killed, nevertheless the tide started to ebb with the Cookie Lady. Tucker wanted to tell this to Ted, but he kept silent. He could 'hear' Fred's thoughts and knew Fred was lost in a sea of memories, no doubt about Pepper and Harris.

It seemed so long ago. Tucker had been standing next to Fred, Pepper, and Harris that day. Sixteen acres burnt that day. Tucker could still smell the smoke and could still see sparks wafting across the sky. Strange he thought now how the four would eventually split into twos. Fred and Tucker remaining friends through college, while Pepper and Harris moved off on their own path. Sure they said hi to each other; nonetheless for a while there until Pepper and Harris joined the police department they rarely saw each other. Tucker had been invited to the wedding, but he was in New York and could not make it back. He could never picture them as cops; guess he pictured them still running from the flames.

Another thing Tucker could still remember as if it was yesterday was Fred making the comment about failing the oath. He could visualize Pepper and Harris lying on the ground in front of One Twenty-Three Simplicity Lane. Unlike Fred, Tucker got to see them first hand as he worked the 16mm for the newspaper; the film would be sold to the TV station in Fair Oaks. Tucker did not blame the Stedman and, until Fat Billy was killed in the attic, he did not blame the house. Ted should be grateful his grandparents moved on, or the evil that leached into that house and grabbed his uncle would have latched onto him as well.

Tucker listened to the conversation and grew increasingly uneasy. Ted seemed like a nice kid. Tucker wondered if Ted knew the can of worms he was opening. 'Well, at least he has no connection to the old house; it was sold off long ago,' he thought; 'Let that place remain a high school myth.' Then there's Fred, who made that pathetic pronouncement to Pepper and Harris. Tucker, educated as he was, nonetheless still held the oath they made at that house the day the flames chased them.

The four boys stood just to the south of the bone dry smoldering grass, now covering a good ten to twelve feet across. Pepper had lit the fire by dropping the match they had used to light the cigarette. Tucker tried to put it out by peeing on it. That did not work, even with Harris's help. Fred was too scared to spit, let alone take a wiz. The four had thought about running; then something magical held them in place.

When the smoldering grass burst into flames the four jumped back in unison, pure curiosity had lost its draw. Suddenly it was like the Fourth of July fireworks. Whoosh! Flame and sparks and smoke suddenly engulfing the small shrubbery and vines along the fence line. The boys stood in fear watching; yet totally engrossed in the spreading flames. By the time Fred broke the silence—in but a whisper—"dang," the flames had spread a good fifteen feet across the fence line and were moving rapidly outward on both sides. Smoke was curling upwards, swirling around their bodies. Their eyes were tearing and, one by one, they started to cough. Pepper moved first; he turned around quickly and beat feet. Fred was next; the pee he was unable to make earlier was now running down his leg. Tucker and Harris followed in rapid succession. They did not stop until they reached the stream. Looking back they saw the fire was racing after them faster, having reached the stream as the boys stone-jumped their way across.

Clearing the stream the four went downstream, eventually reaching Stedman Pond. From there the boys ran to One Twenty-Three Simplicity Lane. No one was around. Panting, they sat on the ground. Fred was glad his fall into the stream had sufficiently hidden his self-induced wetness. Harris took out the pack of cigarettes. "You planning to set the house on fire Harris?" asked Pepper.

"Screw you Pepper!"

They discussed telling someone about the fire. No phone and the thought of punishment weighed heavy. About fifteen minutes later they heard a car approaching, so they retreated behind the house. Tucker taking the lookout position, peering around the edge.

"Who is it?"

"Wait Harris; too far to tell"

"You need glasses!"

"Pepper...oh shit, it's a police car!"

Tucker moved quickly behind the house. The car came to a stop somewhere on the road in front of the house. The boys huddled as close to the house as they could without becoming part of the wall. Ten seconds, twenty; breaths held. They heard the police car turn around in the road and race back towards the direction the boys had run from. Cal had driven up to check on the house when, in his rear view, he saw the smoke above the tree line.

The boys cautiously moved away from wall and looked in the direction the police car had gone. They just about loaded their pants. The smoke was heavy and sparks were dancing across the sky. "The whole place must be on fire," stuttered Tucker.

They made a decision to get the hell out of the area, but first Fred said they needed to do a death oath. On penalty of death they had to keep their mouths shut.

Pepper said he was not taking any oath of death.

"Dang Pepper, you have to," Fred looked at Tucker.

"Pepper, who's going to know? It's just us and this house. Like the house gives a rat's ass."

Fred, in a solemn voice, "We swear an oath on the penalty of death and die if we talk."

"OK," Pepper laughing, "I swear to die if I tell."

Harris reluctantly repeated the oath, followed by Tucker.

A large black crow lifted off the roof of the house and headed towards the rising smoke.

Tucker, his mind back to 2005, looked at Ted. But a flash of Ted's teal eyes was like someone pushing a button on a TV remote; Tucker's mind flashed back to the Cookie Lady's funeral. The four of them stood side-by-side at the casket; Pepper and Harris now policemen. Tucker jokingly asked Pepper if he had to confess his juvenile delinquencies on the police employment application. "No, thankfully." Then Harris added that they had told old Cal one night about the fire when Cal was telling them about things to look out for when the kids were out of school for the summer.

"Yep, Pepper and I 'confessed' over a beer. Didn't we Pepper?"

"Yeah."

Ted was saying something, but Tucker was still miles away. He was standing on the path leading to the front door of One Twenty-Three Simplicity Lane; Pepper and Harris laying there waiting to be covered back up now that the State Police had taken their photographs. That night Tucker would ask his wife, "Does evil bring heartache, or does heartache seek out evil?"

"You mean do bad things happen coincidentally, or is there a link?"

"I think there is a link. I think evil senses evil, and is drawn towards it!"

"That's heavy."

Tucker, once again in the present, looked at Ted, who was getting up to leave the shop, and wondered what evil Ted was bringing back to Tamplation. He wondered about the coincidence of evil and was utterly glad he never spoke about the fire.

As for the fire, by the time the volunteer fire department had responded it was covering three plus acres and it would cover much more by the time it was put out. Harry Hilt's farm took the major hit; his fields would look like blackened waste-land. Then, Harry was thankful the farm structures and his house were spared. However, the cost of purchasing feed for the livestock, no longer being able to put them to pasture, meant he would have to tell the realtor he would not be purchasing the house at One Twenty-Three Simplicity Lane.

Young Stedman did.

— **////—**

### Chapter Eight

July 13, 2005

With hands full of manila file folders crammed with printouts of articles, Millie made her way from the Copy Center up the hallway to their office. She was pissed because some 'dumb shit' in Finance said there was no money to purchase replacement toner cartridges for their copy machine, and if Millie "Continued to waste print cartridges there would be no reason to worry about copy machines." Thus the long walk from the Copy Center, folders pressed against her chest with both hands. She yelled "Ass" in pure disgust as she turned the office door knob half-handed, twisting her body with the knob, while fighting to maintain a hold on the folders. Once inside, Millie kicked the door closed with the back of her foot, "Dumb shit!"

Ted's desk lamp was on, and she could have sworn she had not touched the lamp. Millie stopped forward movement and stared at the lamp? Slowly it registered. A moment ago the door had been unlocked. She knew she had locked it on her way out because one of the folders had slipped from her grasp. She remembered, and this was why she used both hands to hold them on the return trip.

Millie did a slow survey of the office, moving but her head. Nothing seemed to be out of place, except the lamp being on. There was nowhere for anyone to hide; even the desks were modern open-style computer stations. 'Nothing out of place;' a cautious few steps towards Ted's desk. 'Maybe Professor Larsen stopped in,' a moment of relaxation. 'Good one Millie, it's too early for important people to be in, and where the hell did he get a key?' Her mind was clutching at straws, and the momentary relaxation evaporated. 'What do I do?' She nervously giggled, thinking about those dumb teenage movie blonds who always seem to open the door to an axe murderer.

The answer Millie arrived at was to go to Ted's desk. Obviously no one was in the room but her, so what was there to be concerned about?

With files pressed against her chest Millie eased over to Ted's desk. The first thing Millie noticed was Ted's appointment book was open; it had been closed when she had left the office for the copy center.

Now, more curious than scared, Millie moved to stand behind the desk. She saw a red marker pen lying on the right hand page as if pointing to the notation: meet w/ Ms. Glendale at library.

The folders pressed against her chest started to slide out of her grasp, slide one by one. Splat, the first one hit the floor; splat, the second, splat, splat two more. Then, a louder splat as the remaining folders slid down her legs and added dislocated articles to a pile of paper. Millie's breathing faltered, froze in her lungs after a single gulp of air. Her heart jumped from her body. Millie was transfixed, held in place by the newspaper article laying on the desk; not a photo copy, not a printout, but a carefully cut from the paper, original, yellowed with age article _Officers Executed in Tamplation_.

When his cell phone rang, Ted had just stepped out of the shower and Connie was doing her nails, translation: towel wrapped Ted gets phone. The phone displayed WORK. "Millie so nice to hear your voice." No words, just audible breathing, "Millie? Millie what's going on?" Connie, put down her nail polish and gave a 'what's what' shrug of her shoulders.

"Ted..." fear registered in her voice, "Ted can you come here...please?"

"Millie what's wrong?"

"Ted, please come here," Millie was pleading.

"Millie, please, what's wrong," looking at Connie, who watched Ted's face become tight with concern.

"Ted it was unlocked and the light was on!"

His towel dropped to the floor, but Ted was too concerned about Millie to care, "What was unlocked?" He gestured to Connie to come over and held the cell phone so she could hear. "Millie, what was unlocked?"

"The office, someone unlocked it while I was making copies...the light..."

"Millie is there anyone in there with you?"

"No." Ted, relieved at least there was no one there to harm her, "Millie what about the light?"

"Your desk lamp was on...and someone had opened your appointment book. Ted, a pen was left lying on the page pointing to your meeting with Ms. Glendale somebody!" Connie, worried, almost said something, but Ted held up his hand.

"Millie, what else was wrong?"

"A newspaper article was left by the book, Ted it...it was a yellowed original that someone took care when they cut it out...Ted, please come here."

"Millie, what was the article about?" Ted mouthed the words 'use the phone and call 911.' Connie went to the room phone and called 911.

Thankfully, answering Ted's questions kept Millie's mind from getting away, "Ted, it was about the murder of the policemen, you have it, _Officers Executed in Tamplation_.

Connie was informing the 911 operator that the emergency was two states away, and they had the person on a cell phone.

"Millie, what about the article?"

"Ted, it was an original, not a copy, an original from forty years ago! Someone has circled 'the bodies were moved, rearranged to form an angle, the Patrolmen's heads pointing to the small wood frame house.' Ted, please..."

Ted almost forgot what was transpiring on the phone, he almost dropped the phone, "Millie someone is on the way, stay on the line with me."

He heard Connie talking to 911 and he knew the police were on their way. "Millie, talk to me."

"What?"

"Just talk to me so I know you're OK."

"I'm scared Ted."

"I know Millie, but you're okay, someone should be there soon. Millie whoever it was, left the note for me; he knew you would call me."

"So why did the son of a bitch have to be in the office Ted, why?" She was crying; maybe that was a good sign thought Ted. She asked again, "Why?"

"I don't know Millie, but I am sure it was someone who only wants to help out and their method was not meant to scare you." Silently he thought, 'It was meant to scare me Millie. Hell.'

It seemed to take forever, then finally, two states away, the Campus Police arrived and a familiar voice came on the line; it was one of the regular Campus Officers, "Ted? It's Julie"

"Boy, am I glad it's you. Thanks for being so quick."

"Where are you? 911 said you were calling from out of state."

"We are...I am...is she alright?"

"Shaken up, but it appears no physical harm. What's going on?"

Ted filled Julie in on the events. He could hear Julie talking to someone, possibly another officer. "Ted, whoever came in did not use a key. Millie said she did not use the dead bolt because some of the folders she was holding had slipped...needed to hold them with both hands. So whoever it was probably simply slid something between the upper lock tongue and the door jamb."

While relived a key was not used, Ted was, nevertheless, concerned about the article. Someone wanted him to see the relationship between the deaths and the house, his family's house. 'Why?'

Connie had moved close to Ted, sensed his anguish, and hugged his naked body, not caring if the water still clinging to him was now ruining her dress.

Two hours later Connie stood on a path in the Village of Tamplation Founder's Park located a block from the village square. The morning sky was pumpkin, the color of a pumpkin, and Connie the artist marveled at the sheer intensity, the strength of the color. Ted was heading for the Village library, so what else was new. Be it Tamplation or back at the University, Ted was more at home in a library then the 'normal' haunts of young adults. Connie liked the term young adults as it bespoke of maturity, yet still stated young enough to party. She was a young adult and had a young adult twenty-six year old boyfriend. Ted was not a slouch in the fun and, even more importantly, the feelings departments. It was simply Connie's need to remind him to have fun. Yet, as her friends reminded her, "Teddy's an academic, dah!"

Connie marveled at the pumpkin sky. She marveled at how the morning light played on the flowers that lined the path and rung the stately trees. She knew from the vibrancy of the flowers that work was required to maintain the flowers year round, particularly in the summer heat and limited precipitation. She knew the Village Fathers would ensure the flowers changed with the seasons to give continuous beauty. Regardless of what academic poobah Ted would eventually write for other academic poobahs to read, the flowers of the park told the story of rebirth. Whatever had taken place in Tamplation when Ted's mom lived here had become the past, albeit slowly; but the past never the less. The love put into the flowers was future ringing the trees of the past.

On the drive to Tamplation itself Connie had pointed out the hellebore, purple and green, the field speedwell, petals of pale blue with darker blue streaks, false pimpernel, with solitary white flowers, and pale green orchis. When she pointed out the poison hemlock she commented on it being one European import that could ruin your day. Ted looked at her and quipped, "Thankfully I'm not a Greek philosopher."

She saw color, read the meaning of color; for Connie, color was life. And Ted was a perfect companion on her nature walks. He had soon learned, as he walked along side Connie, that listening to her descriptions of the birds and flowers was very therapeutic. He became relaxed, letting the sound of her voice carry him aloft on a cloud. Ted tried to analyze why. He concluded that Connie's voice, underscored by her love of color and life, was 'safe.' Ted felt safe within Connie's vocal grip; she infused his drab academic life with color. Connie enjoyed telling Ted about nature and took pleasure in the effect she had on him. But Connie was still Connie, and Ted, was still Ted. "The summer tanager, with that rosy red plumage, likes, in our area mixed forests. The tanager migrates to Mexico and Central and South America when the weather turns cold and the taxi cabs are hard to stop. Right Ted?"

"What? Oh, wait, what about cabs?"

"Nothing." Connie loved him.

On this day in Tamplation, they had eaten breakfast at a place near the motel they were staying at. Ted had an appointment with the librarian, or some old lady who volunteered there. Connie was not invited to the meeting by choice. No way was she going to pass up a day of 'town hunting' for libraries and meetings with old people. It was the quaint shops and antique stores, having sprung-up in the last few years, which Connie would visit; as she told Ted before she pushed him down on the motel bed, "I may sleep with a historical psychologist, but I don't have to be party to dusting off the memories of some old lady."

The thoughts of the morning were mixed. Pleasant being with Ted, nonetheless uncomfortable remembering the call from Millie. As for Millie, the 'predator of love,' Connie was concerned for her. While being openly disliked by Millie was hard to accept, it did not keep Connie from being concerned about Millie being alone in the office. Connie knew Millie's reaction was real and not a sympathy play for Ted. For that reason Connie was worried about Millie's safety, and worried for Ted safety as well. Something was not right.

But the brilliance of the flowers and the pumpkiness of the sky were too right to let the problem consume the day. Ted would find a way to deal with it on this quest. Oh yes, it was a quest. Sure Ted was doing research, but 'no way was this a pure research trip!' Now walking alone along the path, watching Ted cross the street to the library, her last thoughts heightened her concern for Millie, 'illie you're going to have to walk alone, like me, for a while.' Connie pushed that thought to the back of her mind and forced her senses to feel the nature around her; to calm herself; to chase away thoughts of strangers in the office; and, stranger yet, the oddity of Ted's family remembrances of this place.

The library was housed in a grand old Victorian-era building across from the park on one side and the village square on the other. Connie watched from the park as Ted ascended the seven or eight steps up to the library's porch. As soon as Ted kissed her goodbye and started towards the library Connie saw the upswing in Ted's disposition, the spring in his step. His gate quickened as he neared the library, becoming almost a trot the closer he drew to the building. "He's got more pep sprinting up those steps," she whispered, "then I have seen in weeks." Ted disappeared through the doors.

When Ted entered the library he was immediately struck by the feeling of loneliness. Library loneliness, that 8 PM Sunday night feeling at the University library. That time when only the diehards like himself, and the 'I should have read this during the semester, leave me alone'ers', were dispersed in singular cones of territory.

An old man sitting in one of the reading chairs had watched Ted enter the Library and, at least it seemed to Ted, the paper was now being used to mask his interest in Ted. As Ted passed a few feet in front of the old man, Ted said hello and smiled. No smile in return; just a slight nod like you would acknowledge someone you vaguely know, yet wanting to maintain cordial distance.

Standing in front of the circulation desk was Adel Glendale. She was waiting with a smile on her face and the look of someone pleased to meet a fellow patron of the reading world. As Ted and Ms. Glendale walked to her office they went through the pleasantries of hello, I'm so and so, and, by the way, did you read so and so's last work. She told Ted that the older books, newspapers, and such were in the stacks. Ted wanted to first ask her some general questions before digging through the 'stacks.'

"Technically this is not my office, being part-time; then no one else seems to use it." She sat relaxed behind an old wooden desk, "You mentioned that you were comparing oral and written history?"

"The human experience compared to the recorded."

Ms. Glendale's eyes drifted a little, as her head tilted slightly left.

"Has to do with memory; more precisely the process of encoding, retrieving, and storing information. A person witnessing an event subconsciously tilts in favor of either autobiographical or semantic memory."

Her head did the tilt/eye lift.

"The person witnessing the event, a tree being cut down for example, records the event both as an 'event' in their life and as facts. Let's say the person is obsessive-compulsive, the person may fixate on negative aspects of the event, while another person can see the event neutral, or for positive aspects."

She leaned forward.

Ted leaned forward, "Newspapers are of course written by people who are subject to the same autobiographical and semantic effects. However, they tend to be more objective viewers of an event."

"The who, what, why, when, and where?"

"Right." She sat back. Ted stayed slightly leaning towards her, "While not a hundred per cent neutral, the reporter is more influenced in the choice of words to satisfy editors, influential people, and the sensibilities of the readership. It is the process of recall that intrigues me. If one hundred people witnessed the event, you have to quantify the verbal history to arrive at the mid." She started to lean in.

Ted raised his hand and pinched his lower lip, "Ask them to describe the weather last Friday and the obsessive-compulsive may fixate on 'it looked like it could rain.' The, using the term loosely here, normal person may say the air was cool, just right for walking in the park. While the reporter may write it was 73 degrees, slightly overcast, and the wind was at 5 MPH from the southwest."

She leaned back, "And while the obsessive-compulsive may be correct from their perspective, same for the newspaper, it may not present an accurate historical perspective?"

He smiled, "Picture." They were comfortable. "Do you get many inquiries about Tamplation?"

"We have a number of inquiries concerning genealogy research issues," Ms. Glendale leaned deeper into her chair, "however rarely questions about the Village's history."

Ted nodded, "How long have you been here?"

"About six years this time. As I said, I am retired and do volunteer work since they do not have the funds to hire a full-time research librarian. I live in Doefield. It's a nice new retirement community. And, the Lord willing, as long as I can drive, and I guess as long as they will have me, I'll do the volunteer work. But, to answer your question, I was here for my first assignment, stayed about three years. Arrived here in October of 1964. In early '68 I was transferred to Fieldcrest, where I spent most of my library days."

"Then you were here when the two policemen were killed." Ted saw her involuntary shutter.

"What a shock of an event that was...Ted...may I call you Ted?"

"Please."

"Within twelve months of the murder, the customer base of this library had dwindled to so few patrons the library was downgraded to reduced hours of operation. The staff was reduced to minimal manning, and I was transferred as part of the reduction. It was not hard to make the transfer, because I was young and I had not become a part of the village. You know, small town closeness and slow acceptance of foreigners." She laughed, "I was an outsider from the big city, and it takes time for the people to open up when you talk and dress so alien."

Ted understood, "There must have been other foreigners?"

"Sure, the town had to have outside blood to keep going. There were doctors and teachers, and the other business people. Still, Tamplation was a typical small town where families were several generations old and everyone knew everyone. But don't get me wrong, the people were always nice and friendly. Just, I had not arrived prepared to live in a small town."

"How did you take to Bessie Whatts?"

"That's an interesting question in itself. The Cookie Lady was the heart of Tamplation. I know everyone will tell you this. From the first moment I met her, this old lady coming through the doors of the library, cookie plate in hand, looking for the new librarian, until the day she died, she was the Cookie Lady. She epitomized the solidness of Tamplation."

Ted liked Ms. Glendale, "Psychology question. Can you give me an example; nothing too personal."

"Sure," she liked Ted. "Does your mom know how polite you are?"

"Yep, thinks I am the greatest thing since sliced bread."

"Modest to boot. The Cookie Lady had an old time kindness about her; and not just because she was ancient by the time I met her. Her door was always open, always available to listen to your problems with unquestionable loyalty and warmth of heart. She never tried to usurp parents or such, but listened and had good advice. When she felt you were ready to fly on your own, she would say 'run home sweet child, all will be right.'

"One day I met this young man who was a smooth talker and I was taken in. He said we were going to the movies and instead he drove me to a bar in the next village and wanted to get me drunk. I left him and got a ride back with a young couple who saw my plight. I was so mad. Not just at Mr. Smoothie, but at myself for being so näive."

"I asked the couple to drop me off at the Cookie Lady's house. She listened to my story and, before I knew it, I was pouring my heart out to her. I had kept the homesickness, the stranger in a strange town feelings welled up inside. It was the Cookie Lady, she made you feel wanted, comfortable, and lent an ear to your cries for help. The lifeline she threw to me that night was the same she had thrown to countless villagers. Ted, she treated everyone with the same love and caring."

Ted said softly, "How did you feel when she died?"

"Devastated, no less devastated than everyone else."

Ms. Glendale suddenly remembered something, "Ted, I think I may have a name for you. An email address, but that's a start." She swung her chair around to face the computer and opened her email program. It took a minute or so, then, "Here it is." tapping the monitor. "There is this man...I assume it's a man...from Kansas who has periodically contacted the library about events. Had you not asked about the Cookie Lady...he once asked me almost the same question you just did, but he...wait." She went through her saved emails. "He asked if anyone had ever questioned her death. How odd, the Cookie Lady died of natural causes. Yet he asked 'Has anyone spoken to you about the Cookie Lady maybe not dying of natural causes?'"

Ted's ears were perked, "That is odd."

"His email name is, or was in late-2003, 'memorieslane'. It's a dot e d u address, see. I always wondered if he was a history teacher." Ms. Glendale wrote the email address on a sheet of paper and handed it to Ted.

"Thank you. I appreciate your time. How do I get to the stacks?"

Before going to the stacks, Ted used Ms. Glendale's computer to send a message to memorieslane.

He was rewarded by a few minutes later by a phone call reply. The person from Kansas, Mr. Harmen, said he was not particularly interested in Tamplation, however he had read some articles on unsolved police-related murders and Tamplation was listed in some references. He was researching for a book; that was becoming a life's work because his job kept him on the road. He had nothing much to tell Ted other than where to look for some articles which Ted apparently knew more of than he did.

"However," added Mr. Harmen, "I talked to Ned Hawkins just last week. He was a relative of one of the officers. Ned ran the garage and pulled the patrol car from the pond. Ned and I have communicated over the past three or four years; but he's too old to travel much. So I have never physically met him, just phone calls and emails. Look, I am not sure where he lives, but since you're there, I'll call him and see if he wants to meet with you."

"I would really appreciate that."

"Give me a few moments."

A few minutes later Ted's cell phone rang, and the man from Kansas said that Ned would be glad to meet Ted for lunch at Kay-Bob's Diner. "Everyone knows Ned, so if you get there early just ask. And as for you," a laugh, "I'm sure they will pick you out as the foreigner in town." They said goodbye.

Ted was elated. He called Connie about his good fortune. Connie said she would find lunch "somewhere, so, so very much alone" and would take a cab "all alone" back to the motel. Ted was too elated to fall into her web.

The library stacks were located in the cellar; a huge carnivorous, windowless room that appeared to Ted to be much larger than the library itself. Ted was right. The cellar actually encompassed the space under the library as well as the Village Hall next door; when constructed in 1851 the cellar was used as the village dry goods warehouse.

The stacks themselves consisted of perpendicular rows of shelving that were crammed with over a hundred years of books, newspapers, and magazines from floor to ceiling. Ms. Glendale said the library, in addition to a large holding due to its former position at the turn of the last century as the only library in the area, had inherited the holdings of some of the 'younger' libraries that were closed in the late Seventies. And its our own declining customer base, that's when this one took on the role more of a storage facility than an actual lending library.

Ted should have asked her what row the periodicals were in before he descended to the cellar. The lighting, poor to begin with, was diminished because of the height of the stacks. To make matters worse, Ted soon discovered the rows were at least 125 feet long and, while the rows were not continuous shelving units, the gaps along the shelf lines were not uniform. You could walk eight feet down the row and find a three foot gap – allowing passage to the parallel row – then not find another gap for 20 feet.

Ted took advantage of the gaps to move diagonally across the cellar, slipping randomly from the first row to the tenth. It was in the middle of that row when Ted became aware that he was not alone in the stacks. Not that it surprised him. It was just the place was so deathly quiet Ted had felt as if he was in outer space and void of noise.

It was a slight foot tapping, the kind of tapping someone makes when they are involved in something that takes concentration. A chill went up Ted's spine...he flashed back to the day he met Darkness Man. Ted looked around. It was hard to discern exactly where the noise was emanating from. The acoustics were terrible and the tapping seemed to echo off the ceiling. The taping stopped, almost as if it detected Ted's attention and did not appreciate his intrusion. Ted let out his breath, but the 'Darkness Man' fear was already planted and he became uneasy being alone in the stacks.

The lights went out.

His heart jumped out of his mouth.

Ted stood frozen.

The darkness was intense.

He heard footsteps in the darkened room.

In a rush of thoughts, Ted knew he had to find the exit. 'Damn, no visible exit signs thanks to the height of the stacks.' Ted started to walk to the end of the row. When he reached the end he discovered he was on the wrong side of the room from the exit, having lost his sense of direction because he had turned this way and that while his mind had enjoyed the treasure trove of documents. Ted reversed course.

Footsteps. He could plainly hear the footsteps; 'One, two rows over?'

The quickness of Ted's pace was matched step for step.

When he slowed, the other person slowed and when he sped up, the other feet sped up. There could be no mistaking the systematic resonance of their footfalls was a cadence leading to the convergence at the end of the rows they were traversing. In the distance Ted saw a measurable difference in the intensity of darkness – hoping it was a gap – he had no intention to hesitate. If there was one thing Ted had learned about campus night life, it was to stay away from darkened places. If you screw up, get out of the shadows as soon as you can, and whatever you do, maintain your wits.

No sooner had Ted reached the end of the row and turned the corner when the lights went on. A man was standing by the switch, "These lights seem to have a mind of their own." Startled, Ted stared at the man. "You must be visiting for the first time. Haven't seen you here before."

Ted took him in. The man was in his, what, mid-forties? Needs a haircut, or a new rug, and the clothes were, well they looked as if he had recently lost a lot of weight and had not bought clothes that fit snug. Those thick black framed glasses. 'Crap, this guy looks like a college professor.'

The man seemed self-assured, as if he always met strangers wandering around the stacks in the dark when the lights mysteriously go out. "I did not mean to startle you. I was at the far end and when the damn lights went off I made my way over here. You have to be careful moving around in the dark down here. With books left on the floor by ignorant people, and the rats, yep, big ones, taking immediate advantage of the darkness, you can find yourself face down on the floor, or worse."

"Or worse? That's a pleasant thought." Feeling somewhat more at ease, Ted asked the stranger if he knew where the newspapers were stored.

"Down row eleven. You'll have to look by year, rather than by paper."

"Thanks."

The stranger started to walk away, then stopped and turned towards Ted, "Pardon my impoliteness just then, I should have introduced myself, I'm Stan Detsmit," extending his hand.

"Ted Dantary." Ted shook Stan's hand.

"You here looking for anything special? Not trying to pry, but I come here frequently; kind of know some things about Tamplation history, so to speak."

Ted warmed to Stan's Southern friendliness. "Thanks, I'm trying to get a feel for the village's history. I am interested in why there was a major population shift in the mid-sixties."

"Don't know about that; however I have done some reading and talked to people about a 1965 murder of two of the village's policemen." That got Ted's attention.

"Stan, that's what I was heading to the papers for. There was a lot of news nationally on the killings, but then suddenly the village seemed to fall off the face of the news earth."

"Interesting. Not sure if Jes could tell you about national news coverage, but if you're looking for an authority on the police investigation I would talk to Jes Morgan. He was the officer who found Pepper and Harris."

"That would be fantastic. You think he would want to talk to me?"

"Jes? Sure. He likes nothing better than gabbing about the place, and the good old days; the Sixties." Stan seemed to think for a second, then took out of his jacket pocket an appointment book. He leafed through the address portion of the dog-eared book, "Here it is...the number is for Bobbie. Jes lives in a trailer just outside of town and, strange as it might seem, he does not have a phone. But Bobbie can get in touch with him for you. At least Jes is not a shot in the dark...like the newspapers."

Stan wrote the number on a sheet from the book's notepad and handed it to Ted, "Hate to run, but I have an appointment. Been real good meeting you, Ted. Seems we have a lot in common. No doubt we'll met again."

"Thanks," Ted put the note in his pocket; he would call this Bobbie. He stayed for a few hours doing some reading and then left the library.

Ted took out his cell phone as he walked from the library to the park and called this Bobbie. The phone was answered by a very pleasant voice, "I am not interested in whatever you are selling!"

"Please, I'm not a telemarketer; I was given your name by Stan Detsmit. He said you could get me in touch with Jes Morgan." There was silent pause on the other end. "Really, I am not selling anything. I'm in town doing some research, and Mr. Detsmit suggested I meet with Jes Morgan."

"Mr. Detsmit, you say?"

"Yes." Ted provided a short rendition of his reason for being in Tamplation.

"Well, since it was Mr. Detsmit, why don't you stop by and I'll see what I can do for you."

"I do appreciate this."

"Do you have a name, Mr.?"

"Sorry, it's Ted Dantary."

"Well Ted, I'm Bobbie," and she gave Ted her address and they set a time to meet.

Ted closed his cell phone and smiled at his good luck. He hoped his meeting with Jes Morgan would be fruitful. Researchers hated to lose time running down dead ends.

— **////—**

### Chapter Nine

May 14, 1965

The oven was too hot for the early onset of summer's heat. Even with the windows open and the fans running, the Cookie Lady's house was hot long before she put the first batch of cookies into the oven. It was the south side of the living room that always stayed the coolest, and so it was there she settled into the overstuffed chair to wait for the alarm clock to signal. She had felt so bad for little Teal. Those expressive, beautiful teal eyes, so grateful to see that she was still alive.

Bessie Whatts herself was not sure if 'grateful' was a word that reflected from the hallway mirror. Regardless of the cheerful, carefree façade Bessie Whatts exhibited to the outside world, she felt old. The Cookie Lady felt she had been on this earth far too long. Maybe Teal Stedman knew something beyond the scope of her parents' understanding of childhood knowledge. How many children had she welcomed into her home; their home? Why did this one silently speak to her? It was those smart, alert, and demanding teal eyes.

Bessie Whatts contemplated contemplation in those eyes. Bessie Wgatts saw the end of her universe in Teal's eyes. Saying nothing, just giving the Stedman that welcome home smile, but contemplating the end of her universe, none-the-less. Bessie Whatts felt ancient and tired.

Unbeknownst to the Stedman, the recent death of Steff Nortin had had a profound effect on the Cookie Lady. Steff's death bespoke of death. Steff had sat, like they did, in her kitchen seeking something he could not express in words. The Cookie Lady had known Steff since he was Teal's age; had known Steff's parents as well. Never a good child, Steff was far from good as an adult. Truth be told, Steff was more than just a man who had never lost the immaturity of youth; he was a bad person.

Yet, like all people, Steff was a human who needed love and understanding, a commodity the Cookie Lady gladly dispensed to anyone who asked. She was like that. Steff knew this, and that is why he went to see her – not once, but three times in the past weeks – with an, albeit unknown, ulterior motive that was not lost on Bessie Whatts. She just chose to work around it. That was the problem. Dispensing love had become work. This was the reason Bessie Whatts felt ready to die.

So when Teal could not shake the sadness from those beautiful teal eyes, the Cookie Lady knew it would require more than cookies; so she gave Teal a small physical gift and watched Teal's face light up. The hug she received from this little girl was like an angel's kiss. Bessie Whatts had a lot to be proud of, a lot to be thankful for, and Teal's hug was a reward. How sad she thought, so few really know the value of such a hug until they reach the point where life has become yesterdays. 'If the Lord has chosen this to be my last reward on earth,' she thought as the Stedman drove off, 'then I have been rewarded ten thousand fold.'

The Cookie Lady stood in the doorway watching the Stedman car ease down the street, then, as she closed the door, she said out loud to Teal, to the Dannys, to herself "Run home sweet child, all will be right;" for Bessie Whatts had seen her own journey's end reflected in eyes of teal.

Bessie Whatts was 91 years old on January 14th and still spry and living relatively independent by herself. Only two family members were still alive. An elderly niece, who lived next door, would check on Bessie at least twice a day. While an elderly cousin's child who lived around the corner would come by once a day. Nonetheless, Bessie had her freedom – demanded her freedom – and spent hours on her own. The two relatives were used to people visiting the Cookie Lady at all hours and they bowed to Bessie's wish that the privacy of her visitors be maintained. Just a day before the Stedman visit, the two had decided it was time to be more intrusive. They would work out a schedule to allow each to spend more time with Bessie. The plan was a good one; however too late.

Born into a large family, Bessie Whatts had always cherished her moments of solitude, yet she never forgot the warmth brought by the closeness of a loving family. It was part of her biological make-up, a genetic attribute that lead to her outward caring. Of the nine children she was the youngest. It was her mom and eldest sister, by twenty-five years, Clare that started the cookie tradition. Bessie and Clare looked so much alike most people had trouble telling who was who in old photographs. That, plus only a few villagers being over eighty years of age, caused the villagers to 'lose track' of time. A simple mistake that lead to the lore of how old the Cookie Lady really was. Old Zack, at 81 with a dwindling memory at best, remembered the Cookie Lady being in her thirties when he was four or five. The mistake had no outward meaning to Bessie Whatts, nevertheless she was in their minds eternal. Inwardly was a different story. Bessie Whatts missed her family, and with each passing day the tragedy of outliving her family became a heavier weight to carry.

If legends have a birth date, it was on July 4, 1876 the legend of the 'Cookie Lady' was born. The village was assembled at Haywood's farm for a day of celebration with games, food, music, and a bonfire. Unfortunately, the fire part started prematurely in the village proper, and by the time someone saw the smoke six buildings were involved. The resulting catastrophe could have been the end for Tamplation. Its business area was reduced to burnt wood and a fair number of homes were destroyed. Early the next morning Mrs. Whatts arose to find villagers either walking or sitting around in a daze. Some had already packed their remaining belongings and were ready to turn their backs on the village. Mrs. Whatts took matters into her own hands – hands still callused from the harsh necessities of life brought on by the Civil War – organizing the village women and dispensing love.

It was love, unselfish love – lemonade, cakes, pies, cookies, hugs, a shoulder to cry on, a heart to hear the pain – that saved Tamplation. No amount of material goods, promised new wealth, or grand political speeches could have succeeded. From that day forward the village survived on the unrelenting love of the Cookie Lady. When the men marched off to war, when the flood came, when sickness beckoned death, the villagers drew on that love. But, as with all good things, too much of a good thing is harmful. The love dispensed by the Cookie Lady became a crutch; a saving grace always ready to pick up the pieces.

The sky was getting darker as Bessie Whatts sat in the cool of the living room. She was thinking about church music, humming softly to herself. Never had a TV, and not one to waste electricity on a radio now that the good shows of the forties and fifties were off the air. Bessie Whatts could not shake the desire to see her family again. 'Odd,' she thought, 'how many people who had passed through that front door are now dead. Why does Steff's death affect me such?' She had no real answer, just a feeling of something changing. Something else worried her. She was not into psychic mumbo-jumbo; nevertheless something was wrong.

Of course Steff Nortin lied to her, had set out to use her; but something much larger seemed to be looming in the background. Three visits in so many days, again an oddity. He was edgy when he sat in the kitchen. Steff never said what was really on his mind. Bessie felt the first visit was to 'test the waters,' so to speak. The next visit was the meaningful one...but for what reason. The third, it was the third that really confirmed her feelings; Steff came to check on something. When word arrived that Steff had died in the car accident she took the news sorrowfully, but had no doubts it was not an accident. In all of her years as the Cookie Lady no one had betrayed her like Steff Nortin had this past spell. How did she miss reading what was happening.

She confirmed her fears when she looked into the beautiful teal eyes of a little girl so distraught thinking the Cookie Lady had died. Bessie Whatts had seen a pure heart reflected in Teal's eyes, and that reflection seemed to wipe the fog from her own eyes as to Steff Nortin. But the dissipating fog also brought an increased belief her time on earth was over. So it was when she answered the door, she had already decided why the man with the aura of deadness was there.

Thus, when the two strangers arrived, Bessie Whatts was waiting in the coolest part of the house. Their visit never even started out pleasant. This was a business call, and Bessie Whatts did not offer them cookies. The one with the smile of Satan did all the talking. He wanted to know about Steff Nortin; she was not surprised. He wanted to know about some woman named Kate, whom Bessie Whatts had only heard Steff mention in passing. The man measured his words. Death reflected in his eyes. He did not believe her. Not about this Kate. Not about Steff Nortin. Then, just before the Cookie Lady died – as the pain shot up her arm and her chest drew tight – she understood the tragic mistake she had made and asked the Lord to forgive her for her ignorant, tragic mistake. She dedicated her last prayer to Mary, asking the Lord to protect her.

Cookies burnt in the oven. It was the odor of burnt cookies that caught the attention of her neighbor. By then Donatien and Ricky had silently left.

Donatien's visit to the Cookie Lady was rooted weeks before as Steff counted his change for the third time, yet still short a dime and he was desperate for a cigarette. His eyes scanned the ground around the vending machines, "Assholes, you'd think someone would drop a fucking dime!"

"Sure Steff, your money situation rests on the shoulders of humanity," the female voice – so slick with pitiless, well-worded sarcasm that ran askew to her trailer park appearance – belonged to Kate. She had bussed into the area a week before from Baltimore, and now regretted having ever met Steff. She was married to Steff's cousin Georgie, but that had not stopped Steff from sleeping with her off and on since the night of the wedding reception when Georgie passed out from too much alcohol. Kate could care less, sex was sex. Her concern was staying alive until Georgie met her in Atlanta.

Georgie had a plan, and Kate believed in Georgie; regardless if some guy was searching up and down the East Coast for her. "Who the hell has ever heard of Tamplation," she told Georgie. The place would be a great place to hide out, and screwing Steff was a small price to pay. However, Kate did not plan on Steff losing all his money. He had met her at the bus station, and within five minutes Kate discovered Steff was broke. What a joke she thought, 'the Breadman was out of bread.' Oh, no doubt he had an excuse. Kate knew it was either a dope deal or a card game that went south on him.

Hell, if she would help him out. Her personal cash supply was weak as it was. To play it safe, Kate stashed the stolen money in a locker at the Fair Oaks bus station. Steff told her he had a foolproof place to stash the pouch. Besides, Georgie said he would call in a week or two, so, no sweat. She would get the call, grab the pouch and the cash, and head for Atlanta to meet Georgie. Kate loved to say it to herself, 'four hundred and thirty-six thousand dollars.' It had a nice ring to it. She and Georgie would head for the Keys; no one could be found in the Keys.

Donatien would find them. He had already left Georgie taking a long underwater swim just south of Fort Smallwood. Unfortunately for Kate, she had no idea about Georgie's fate or descriptions of Donatien and Ricky. All she knew was the Man in New York would be sending someone to track down Georgie, Kate, the pouch, and the money. But what the shit, some guy from New York would be lucky to find Georgie in Baltimore, let alone find her in a place like Tamplation. Kate and Georgie had a plan.

However this was Donatien; not some $1,000 suit, Italian leather shod 'business man' from the City. No, Donatien was like a southern bloodhound. Finding Georgie was actually easy, because Georgie was nothing more than a small time second-story man who bragged from one bar to the next about 'lucking into' the catch of his lifetime; which ended shortly after he gave up Kate being in Tamplation.

Donatien told Ricky the trick to the chase was maintaining a low profile, "You don't make any noise, and hopefully the bitch will think we work with Georgie. Develop a cover story."

Ricky hated when Donatien spoke like crime was no different from running a business. Ricky was in crime because he realized early on he was too dumb to succeed in business. So the two men set out from Baltimore to find Kate. Ricky thought they would leave Baltimore quietly and head down US 1. It seemed that way until the prostitute episode; 'so much for keeping a low profile.' For Ricky, watching Donatien beat information out of Georgie was nothing more than a display of toughness, and watching Georgie sink to the bottom of the Patapsco River – cinderblocks for weight – was a display of attention to detail; but the prostitute episode was...it put a real fear in Ricky as to Donatien's cold, calculating, passionless personality.

Once in Tamplation, Donatien told Ricky the first order of business was to find a place to work out of. Somewhere away from the room they rented at the Stars-a-Plenty Motel and Camp Ground. An unused, back of the building room in the same building as Miss Bow Peep was perfect. Perfect that is except for the ventilation duct carrying Donatien's raised voice whenever he was angry. The sound of Donatien's voice found its way to the ears of little Danny Stedman.

Donatien learned from Kate before she died "that shit head, asshole, mother... stole the fucking key from me and took the pouch to some old lady who bakes cookies." As for Steff, he was out the door of his apartment the moment he failed to hear from Kate, only to find his own death in a rat trap vehicle. Donatien decided to visit the Cookie Lady and how, so unfortunate, "she would die" after they retrieved the "bag of ice." Thus, a few nights after the Stedman visited, the Cookie Lady had the visit from Donatien and Ricky. It was an unpleasant visit; her last day of baking cookies, but no diamonds were found. Donatien was angry, "The old slut knew."

Ricky did not want to say anything foolish like 'if you hadn't threatened her with the table lamp she would not of dropped dead on us.' Ricky did have some smarts, "Obviously his fuck-mate was wrong about leaving it with the old bitch." As for Danny Stedman, it was the newspaper article that alerted Donatien to a potential witness. Until then Donatien had never heard of the Stedman, and he failed to put the family at the Cookie Lady's house the first time he and Ricky tried to pay a visit. Yes, contrary to popular belief Donatien made mistakes. When Donatien put the scare into the Stedman kids at the hardware store, other than the newspaper article about Danny hearing the wall talk, he was not aware of any connection between the "little brats and the old bitch."

— **////—**

### Chapter Ten

July 13, 2005

To a passerby the old graveyard was just one more vestige of a bygone era; a time when small town names were sinfonietta in the grand design of American life and the weathered headstones reflected, not just history, but the spirits of the living. Each stone an occupied dwelling and each name a leaf on the tree of pedigrees. But now? Now the graveyard served as a monument to the forgotten of Tamplation. A reminder that the span of human mortality is a mere flicker of the eye. Ted stood at the low stone wall looking across the expanse of markers. Where were his ancestors buried? Was his mother's erasure of memory felt by the bones of the residents? Did forgetting the dead shorten one's already short span of life? 'Glad Connie is not here. Those thoughts would surely scare the shit out of her.' With that thought Ted knew it was time to shake the 'intellectual' persona and 'humanize' himself as he crossed the street for Kay-Bob's and his meeting with Ned Hawkins. While sometimes difficult to do as a researcher, he wanted to 'live' Tamplation, not simply view it from a microscope.

Kay-Bob's Diner was some fifty-four years old, having been built by Kay and Bob Ertzler. Aside from that tidbit of information, Ted had also learned from the motel local points of interest information sheet that Kay-Bob's was "famous" for their chicken fried steak. Ted was looking forward to a good chicken fried steak dinner with green beans, mashed potatoes with chicken gravy, and fresh homemade pie for added pleasure. If there was one thing Ted had learned from living in the South it was how to spot good food and how to enjoy eating it. There is a correct and a wrong way of eating diner food, be it in East Point, Georgia, Del Ray, Florida, or Perth Amboy, New Jersey.

And that was the first regret that crossed Ted's mind as he made his way across the street, he would have to take a table or booth to talk to Ned. You had to know more than simply where to eat; you needed to know how to 'feel' the food; not just taste it. You need to sit at the counter – no table, no booth – you sit at the counter. Tables and booths did no justice to diner food. They served only one function, to hold conversations. Your dining experience needs to start the moment you walk through the door and allow the steel pedestals, topped with chrome belted red vinyl seats draw you to the counter. You needed to let your senses breathe in the closeness of the wait staff, the dish person, and the stranger sitting next to you. You have to allow the visual effect of the service window play like a small stage within a stage. The cook behind – like those in front – performing a minuet, a mixture of ritual organization; and, if you're lucky, hear the vanishing tongue of short order cooking. Ted wanted to write an ode to the Waffle House, where the language was still slung.

The second regret was Connie not being there with him.

The diner's door was wood framed and warped, so when Ted pushed on the door it sprang open, announcing his entrance to the world with a loud shudder of glass, swinging half-raised blinds, and wood. Everyone turned in his direction, since obviously only a stranger would push so darn hard. The regulars knew you simply lifted slightly by the door knob. Quickly finding an empty table, Ted self-consciously removed himself from 'observation' mode and entered the 'paying tourist' mode, which was three levels above observation; with 'needing directions' and 'can I use the rest room,' in between. One of the waitresses, Becky – a nineteen year old mother of twins – straightened her skirt and apron, snugged her blouse, and checked her hair in the reflection of the cake and pie case, then – ignoring the 'Becky, watch it' look from her boss – made her way over to Ted.

"Hi, my name is Becky and I'll be your server." And, in a voice that struck Ted as the likely universal sweet voice of the young Millies of the world, "would you like for me to make a recommend...or do you already know what you...like?"

Given Becky's brazenness, Ted scrapped regret number two. Thankfully Connie was not here, because he seriously doubted Becky would be concerned about Connie's presence. "Thanks, how about some unsweetened iced tea, and I'll look over the menu." Nonetheless, Ted knew from her stance and smile he was not going to get off that easy so he added, "I'm meeting someone, so reading the menu will give me some ideas, but don't forget to tell me your recommendations as to what's extra good." Before his lips stopped uttering stupidity, Ted realized that was a wrong answer; a dumb comment, a really stupid comment.

A comment that was rewarded with "Ummmn, I'll be right back with your tea," and a great impersonation of Millie trying to knock over desk paraphernalia with her hips.

'Oh shit, please Connie don't come walking through the door, I don't need this!'

Becky reached the end of the counter and was met by Angela, her boss's "Excuse me?"

"Oh Angie lighten up, he's dreamy!"

"And you're married!"

Becky did not want to tell Angie that since the twins were born her husband had lost interest in everything but his tractor pulls. She wanted to tell Angie, 'damn, you haven't since before I was born, so what the shit do you know; and he is well put together!' Becky held her tongue, poured the tea and made her way back to Ted's table. Becky kept an eye on Ted for the next fifteen minutes, refilling his glass once.

When she saw Ted look at his watch for the umpteenth time she walked over and asked if he wanted to order now "seeing your friend may be a no-show?"

"Guess you're right. How about the Chicken Fried Steak, green beans, mashed potatoes with chicken gravy."

"Guess I win the bet."

"The bet?"

"Yep, I bet you were going to meet a guy and my boss said you were meeting a woman." Ted looked confused. Becky laughed, "The food. You're not the type of guy who would eat before his date arrives."

"Good detective work, but I am in town with my girlfriend." And regardless of the niceness in his voice, Ted saw the disappointment reflected in her eyes.

Before Becky could make her retreat to the service window to place the order, Ted figured Ned may be a regular, so he asked Becky if she knew Ned Hawkens and told her that he was supposed to meet Ned for lunch.

Becky gave Ted a strange, questioning look. "That's," head flick in Angie's direction, "Angie...and her mom's a Hawkens."

"Would you ask her for me?"

A not so positive, "Sure." Ted watched as Becky asked Angie, saw Angie go ashen, saw at least two of the patrons in hearing distance of their conversation stop eating and turn towards him. Angie stopped hearing what Becky was saying. She just stopped hearing and stared at Ted. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of silence, Angie cautiously made her way to Ted's table.

"My name is Angie, Angela Ertzler, my mother's maiden name is Hawkins, and you?"

"Ted Dantary."

Angie studied him, then, as if she sensed this was not a joke, "Well Ted, Old Ned, my grandfather, died some fifteen years ago; so I seriously don't think he is going to meet you."

He felt the eyes of everyone in the place looking at him, "I'm sorry, really sorry. Apparently somebody has a sick sense of humor. A Mr. Harmen called me and said he had arranged the meeting."

Angie sat down at the table, an act that sent a signal to the others, 'eat!' She could tell Ted was surprised at this revelation, "Yeah, real funny. Some people have too much time on their hands. Can I ask why you wanted to talk to Old Ned?"

Taking a chance, "My mom's name is Stedman, they moved from here when she was a little girl. I'm here doing some social research for the University I work for...trying to get an understanding of the history of the village when her family moved."

"Guess it's more 'university' complex than that, right?"

Ted nodded, he liked Angie's quick grasp, "I was told that your grandfather could fill in some of the blanks."

She thought for a moment, "You have to forgive me, and the rest of the folks. It's not everyday someone walks in to hold a table chat with a dead person." Then, like some light was turned on in a dark room, "Who did you say your mom was?"

"Teal Stedman."

"As in Stedman Pond?"

"Yes," but he knew he was a second too late. The renewed stares from the assembled masses seemed to burn right through him. If the first act was a crowd pleaser, this new bit of information brought the house down.

Angie had nothing to say, which shocked her as much as Ted's pronouncement. Ted tried to wait out the silence, but gave up, "My mom lived in the house across from the pond. They were away when the policemen were killed. She was six, and they moved to Atlanta. I haven't even been out to the pond. Guess their house is long gone"

"Look, ummm Ted, you need to know that old house is still there. It's...it's... damn Ted the house is haunted. No way to say it differently, the place is haunted. And believe me when I say this, if I did not think you were being straight with me, I'd say the joke had gone far enough."

Ted had no problem feeling the tenseness and displeasure in Angie's voice and noting her defensive posture. Hell, he could see it in the faces of the others as well. "How do you mean haunted? Like little kid's tales, lover's lane monster haunted?"

"NO, like FUCKING REAL LIFE haunted. Don't go near the place Ted!" He almost recoiled from her forcefulness. There was no mistaking Angie believed what she was saying and Ted knew it was time to drop the subject.

Angie read the confusion in Ted's face, "Sorry about using the 'F' word, obviously you just don't understand. Look, let's go somewhere and talk." So Angie took off her apron and led Ted outside, across the street, back to the graveyard. Becky looked from the window to Nancy – who worked for the local newspaper – who was staring out the window at Angie and Ted. Nancy had noticed the teal eyes as Ted stood; Nancy's hamburger, now orphaned, would soon grow stone cold.

After passing through the graveyard gates, Angie led him to a stand of trees, "My husband is Chuck Ertzler, his parents own the diner, but we run it now. Thought you would be worried about my job security." There was a trace of humor in Angie's voice and Ted recognized this was Angie's way of easing the conversation. They came to a white stone bench, a solid piece that looked as well tended as the grave sites near it. "My granddad's grave," pointing to the one on the far left. Grandmamma is buried next to him." Ted read the dates on Ned's tombstone 'Born 1905 – Died 1990.' "Old Ned was spry up until the day of his death. Fell off a ladder changing light bulbs at the church. Don't ask why he was up on a ladder...he was always doing something to 'stay young.' Let's sit for a while. This bench was Ned's idea. He told us that if we loved him, then we would find the time to sit a spell and talk to him."

Ted and Angie sat down, looking across the expanse of grave sites. Again the sense of history was unmistakably lonely and Ted asked the question before even realizing he was doing so, "Ned knew the village was being reborn didn't he?"

Angie looked at him, not quite sure of what Ted was asking. Then, "My granddad stayed when just about everyone else left. This bench, yeah it was his way of saying he would be here forever, so stop by if you're in the neighborhood. Course, before he died he knew that Chuck and I were here for forever. But the others, they all seemed to have left."

"Any idea why?"

"Not really, then it was a long time ago. What did your mom say?"

"She does not remember much about her time here, she was six when they moved. My granddad tried to tell me once, but I was ten, and at the time I could see no reason to care about the place. Since my mom never talked about it, and the rest of her family I know lived in Atlanta, guess there was no place for Tamplation in my life. I know that sounds bad, but it's my dad's family history that I know about."

Angie smiled, "Don't feel bad. We've gotten used to people not remembering this place. And now, the new people are moving in. Chuck and I have this attitude that we may have stayed, but we can still accept change."

"I hope that does not include changing the chicken fried steak, because I heard it's real good!"

She laughed, "You know a way to a woman's heart young man. I hope the lady with you appreciates that!"

"Connie does. That's why she puts up with me."

"Ted, you bring Connie in tonight for dinner. Just don't stop in alone, cause Becky will think you're interested; AND don't mind the clientele. I'll set things right. Now, I bet you're anxious for some good info, right?" Ted nodded. "It all starts with the Cookie Lady..."

Ted thought on what Angie had told him, the symbolism of the graveyard, of his link to Tamplation. He had arrived at the diner to meet Ned Hawkins, then, in the way life sometimes is, he met Angie.

Angie smiled at Ted and rose to walk back to the diner. Ted smiled back, yet remained seated contemplating what to do next. Now, as Angie walked away, Ted reflected on the meaning of the bench itself. It was Ned reaching from the grave to keep something of the past alive all the time knowing the Village of Tamplation was never going to be the same again. In the few words Angie had related, Ted felt he understood what Ned wanted him to know. It was the Cookie Lady – a mystical myth of a wisp thin old lady that kept the flesh and blood of Tamplation warm through fresh baked cookies – the symbol of love defined for Tamplation.

Once her face was turned away from Ted, Angie's demeanor became more serious. Something was not right. She had noticed it right away, nonetheless had put the thought to the back of her mind while talking with Ted. Someone had cleaned off the bench. Angie cleaned the bench when she visited the gravesite once a month and she had planned to come next Sunday. Why would someone clean the bench? She wondered if it was Ted. Was he just feigning ignorance of Old Ned's death? She didn't think so. So who?

While Ted watched Angie walk slowly towards the graveyard gate he could not see her troubled face, nor could he see the man who was watching them from a distance.

Once back at the diner, the meeting with Ted got the best of Angie; "Joe, I'll be back in a few, keep an eye on things."

She headed straight for the Thrift Shop across the street. As she crossed she scanned the cemetery on the opposite corner; subconsciously looking for Ted. The cleaned bench bothered her; someone knew they would be going there.

Inside the Thrift Shop she asked Dave, an old time resident, if he knew "a Harmen." "The only Harmen I knew was William Harmen, the guy who got shot out by Stedman's Pond." Angie gasped. "You kay?" She had turned pale. "Angie?"

Recovering enough to speak, "I'll be okay. It must have been something I ate." Seeing Dave did not buy it, "Restaurant humor."

"Sure, you want to sit down?"

"No, I'm fine. You meant the person who tried to break in?"

"Yep, Fat Billy, that what they called him by, found in the attic. Police said he must have argued with his accomplice."

"Long-time resident?"

"Up until the time he was shot." Seeing Angie's reaction, "thrift shop humor." She forced a laugh.

Dave's curiosity rose; it was a long time since anyone poked around the 'Fat Billy episode', as the guys referred to it. "Why are you interested, if it aren't too private?"

"His name came up in a conversation and I wondered if my granddad knew him."

"Sure he did. Thought you'd have recognized the name. Billy, your granddad, Jes Morgan, and the guy who lived in the old Stedman house at that time were on the same bowling team. Well at least until Fat Billy was killed." Seeing no rise from Angie, "Bender, no Benson, the guy who lived there and his pretty young wife moved away after the shooting."

Angie said she would take a seat if Dave did not mind, and Dave told her the story.

"Ned told me that one night at bowling, Benson, that's it, Benson's wife showed up. A real pretty woman, who put the spark in Fat Billy's eyes. Rumor was she took a shine to Fat Billy; but that was only a rumor." Wink. "Any-which-who, she had stopped by to give Benson something and, as she was talking to him, Fat Billy must have heard her tell him about the boxes in the attic the Stedman had left. Course the police figured Fat Billy was after any valuables he could find up there...in the attic." Dave winked again at Angie, "We all felt the valuables he was after were Benson's wife."

"Why?"

"Oh, Benson traveled for business a good deal, and it seems Fat Billy and the misses became good friends. Not that anyone had proof, mind you."

"So Harmen...Fat Billy...died in the attic of the old house. Did anyone suspect it was Benson?"

"Nope, the family was out of town." Dave thought for a second, "They'd come home from a trip, be what the papers said, and she went upstairs to unpack. Noticed a stain on the ceiling. Called Benson, who thought the roof musta been leaking. Nope, it was Fat Billy who done the leaking. That's how he was found. Now, Jes had a sick sense of humor, which you are well aware, he said the stain being over the bed was a hell of a message to the misses. They'd left town to get away from the house if you ask me."

Back at the diner Angie had to explain to Chuck, who had been out making a delivery, why Ted had stopped in. "Said a Mr. Harmen arranged the meeting." She was going to mention her chat with Dave, but changed her mind at Chuck's reaction, a far off look of fear and concern.

When Ted left the graveyard, using some hints provided by Angie on where to meet older Tamplationers and to get lunch, he grabbed something to eat at a place called Jill's, while talking to the owner.

The owner went into the back to his small office space and fetched a framed photograph, "My dad snapped this before the press and gawkers were barred from the immediate area, crime scene, you know. Some say this is a morbid keepsake."

"It's a piece of your family's and Tamplation's history."

The 8 x 10 black and white glossy print was of five and a half men standing behind the bent over, white coated, corner as he examined Pepper and Harris. "My dad was working for the county roads at the time. The half guy to his left is my late-uncle who worked along with Dad. My dad passed away in '73.

Ted seemed to be mesmerized by the positioning of the bodies, "Kind of like an advertisement or a warning?"

"Most thought a warning. Not sure what you mean by advertisement...you mean like a gang symbol?"

"Yes."

Ted had started to warm to the people of the village, smart minds and smart wits; those that still had warm bodies, that is. "Big cities can offer anonymity. Even though the gang leaves a sign and everyone knows it's their territory. They can still melt into the density of the surroundings. But small towns are harder to grasp."

"You suggesting there was some small town conspiracy?"

Ted could not help but notice a slight defensiveness in the man's posture. "No. Violence in the South is greater than in the North. Unfortunately it's true. I've read studies that try to make heads or tails out of the statistics, and the best contributing factor I have come across is chivalry."

"Like knights?"

"Yes. The Southerner is more apt to defend home and family honor with violence."

"Not sure if Pepper and Harris needed to be symbols of someone defending his honor."

"Neither do I."

The man rubbed his chin, taking in what Ted had been saying, "You think it had to do with something larger?"

Ted leaned back in his chair, took a drink from his glass of unsweetened ice tea, and thought. Then, "Y'all have any violence connected with the civil rights events of the early to mid-sixties?"

"No, we tended to be...ok, we were pretty much white, and left the trouble to the places like Fair Oaks. But even there the unrest was relatively peaceful."

Ted scratched his head, then do-dadded with his left index finger – kind of pointing to an invisible object that wanted to move about him. "I'm trying to remember something." Scratched his head again. "1966, I think it was. Three people were killed in North Carolina. A triple murder, the bodies left in an obvious arrangement, no one comes forward. A message to someone."

"Pepper and Harris?"

"The fact they were left displayed was a message for someone."

"Hate to ask this young man, but was it for your family?"

"If it was, and no disrespect intended to Pepper and Harris, we missed it."

"But your granddaddy got the message Tamplation was dying," cordial, but he was too stiff to hide the undertone.

"Not sure. It was my grandma who wanted to leave. The deaths of Pepper and Harris spooked her. I remember hearing her cry about it...I was real young...it was only recently my mom told me how upset they were in leaving Tamplation."

"Don't fret, I thought about going myself."

Two stops later, and with only a half hour to before going to meet this Bobbie, Ted found himself seated with Twitch at the Pins N' Suds, a remnant of the 1950's.

Twitch was tall, stooped over, and in severe need of a bath.

'So much,' thought Ted, 'for the quality of life at the Suds.' Ted had gone to the service counter upon entering the establishment, introduced himself, and asked the teenager working if any 'old timers' were around. The boy pointed to Twitch; didn't know his real name, "May not have one; but he's definitely an old timer."

Ted and Twitch had moved to the snack bar, where Ted bought him a beer.

"Been a regular here at the Suds for almost my entire life; but aren't a local. No, hitched a ride here when I was fourteen and decided to stay. Cept for a spell in the Army." Looking at Ted, then rubbing the bridge of his nose, "Guess you're not interested in the Army, just Tamplation? Was going on fifteen when they hired me as a pinboy. Don't look so surprised, them auto-may'tic contraptions weren't installed till the seventies."

The clothes were also 1970 style, and the shirt looked as if had been washed at least six times since new. The pants, now they were a historian's dream, with enough stains on them to qualify as a pictorial history of the old guy's complete gastronomic intake since the first time he slipped his legs into them; 'the man really likes mustard.'

Ted had positioned himself on a stool up wind and listened patiently.

The old man thought a few seconds sizing up Ted, "Mr.? Don't think I got your full name."

"Ted Dantary. My mom's a Stedman; lived out by the pond," extending his left hand to be met by a damp palm, but still firm handshake.

"Well Mr. Ted, seems this is your lucky day."

"Any time I meet someone who lived in Tamplation in the mid-sixties makes my day lucky;" leaving off 'when they are alive, that is.' "Meant more. I was worken here when your Momma lived in Tamplation."

"In the mid-Sixties, 1965 to be exact."

"To be exact?" Twitch stiffened.

"Sorry, did not intend to be so unfriendly...just tired. You're the fourth person I have had the good fortune to talk to today."

"Get up early. Like that. No harm."

To ensure the old man had not taken offense, "Did you know my grandparents?"

"No, never met um. Just know the family got out of here when them cops got killed. I was the lane doc, had to keep the lanes oiled. Did you know they used to oil the lanes so the ball would hit smack in the pocket? We had a pro-am here once and they had some fella from...forgot where...but he oiled the lanes for the pros."

They talked about the underbelly of Tamplation, the people like Twitch who the village rested upon, who the village relied on to 'oil the lanes.'

Twitch seemed to be either getting tired or no longer able to avoid the subject, "Youse been up to That House? Fat Billy got smoked in the attic by the husband...the dude who lived in that house."

"You call it..."

"Call it That House."

"Yes, why?"

"Place is a doorway to Hell," he turned, downed the rest of the second beer Ted had bought him. "Let's leave it there Mr. Ted, whose Momma once lived in That House. Be grateful you're grandpa moved em."

Seeing the skeptical look on Ted's face, "You don't know the story of That House, do you," not a question, a statement. "That's good. Keep it that way Mr. Ted. Keep it out your reach...don't...don't try to find answers. That house is a doorway to Hell."

"Ok, I take warnings seriously. Thank you. I mean that."

"You're Tamplation...just like your Momma. Got Tamplation in your blood."

Ted knew story time was over.

As Ted drove to meet this Bobbie, he wondered if he would have time to look into the death of Fat Billy.

— **////—**

### Chapter Eleven

July 13, 2005

When Ted pulled his car up in front of Bobbie's, the first thing he noticed was the bright yellow paint. The house was neat and clean, a wonderfully kept property on a street of well-kept houses. To Ted this is what small town life should be. This is what he thought the village should look like. Not the new part of town with the look of the new town homes of Northern Virginia or Atlanta.

He parked the car in the driveway and walked around to the front door. Before he could ring the bell, the door opened and he was greeted by a face that could have been on the cover of a fashion magazine. The face was attached to a body that was....she was stunning. Her voice brought Ted back to the ground, "You must be Ted, I'm Bobbie. Come on in." Holding the door wide open, the man who loved Connie till the end of time walked into Bobbie's house thinking 'gorgeous, capital G, gorgeous.'

They had talked on the phone very briefly about Ted's technical reason for being in town with his girlfriend. Now they sat in the living room of the yellow house. Ted could see the kitchen off to the right and what was probably the dining room to its left. Yet, the furniture was out-of-place for the rest of the house. Bobbie immediately caught this, "I actually live next door. This is...is what you can call my office."

"What do you do?"

"As little as necessary." She laughed, "That was an inside...occupational joke." Looking at Ted, she made him feel as if he was at the doctors and he would be asked some embarrassing sex related question like, 'do you masturbate.' Ted was not comfortable being with Bobbie. The woman had done nothing intentionally to make him feel this way, other than drawing him to her like a moth to a light!

Bobbie asked Ted if he wanted anything to drink. "No thanks, I don't want to take too much of your time."

"It's fine, I don't get to spend much time talking to visitors from the outside world." She laughed. Ted did the same.

"So Ted, what can I do for you?" There was that doctor's office feeling again.

"Not sure." Then, after repeating his tall of being a university researcher, however not yet mentioning his family, "I was told you would be able to tell me how to get in touch with Jes Morgan. He was a policeman here some time ago."

Bobbie was looking at Ted with eyes that dug down to his soul; not unpleasant eyes, but none the less piercing, questioning, knowing eyes. She did not answer Ted immediately, measuring her words, "You're from Tamplation stock, aren't you?"

"Tamplation stock, interesting way to describe me, but yes; my mother, her parents, and her grandparents on both sides were from here. Guess that makes me Tamplation stock."

"I grew up here. My parents were born here. After college I moved back."

"Where did you go to college?"

"Alabama for undergrad, then the University of Maryland for my graduate work." She saw the expression on his face, "Surprised a prostitute has an education?"

"I...I had no idea..."

"I know. You have been psychoanalyzing this situation," waving her arm to take in the room, "let's just say I found a nine to five job boring and leave it at that."

Bobbie read his thoughts, "It's not for the money, although it's good; nope, I enjoy sex and get paid for something I enjoy doing." Ted had no words that seemed to fit. "Ted, it's like dating. You take a girl out and spend money hoping she will jump your bones. I cut out the middleman, the restaurants, movies, flowers, etcetera. If I sound cold, well, this is a business and I am not in the business of love."

The pinewood coffee table had stains from the sweat of countless beer cans. Prominent rings of dark brown in contrast to the natural light color of the wood. Her soft blue summer dress invoked sunny days; thoughts of a sky pillowed by soft white drifting clouds. To see her slender, firm, sensual frame so well hugged and kissed by the dress and then look at the sparse, cold room was as a contradiction as was the color of the pine and rings of stain. Bobbie was a consensus of contradictions; a confluence of class and classlessness. She was a dream in soft blue, yet what she spoke of was about leaving social convention and surrendering to the impersonal room they sat in. It would be a one-person surrender, the client. Ted just knew Bobbie was not one to surrender. Bobbie smiled, and the beer can stained pinewood table became meaningless; lost to the moment of her smile.

A pack of cigarettes visibly laying on top the TV, a nice thirty-something inch set that no doubt had its own stains from endless beer cans. The arms of the pinewood sofa, as was the pinewood end table, both heavy, substantial pieces of functional furniture, were ringed with stains. All in contrast to the softness of the contour of her neck. The soft slope of her neck easing its way to bare shoulders framed by the straps of the blue dress. These were shoulders that begged to be kissed. A neck that needed soft caressing; the light touches of lips. Her dusty brown, shoulder length hair, now swept back, added to the look. Hair that slipped sensuously through the slender fingers that guided it behind her ear.

"So Mr. Ted, you want to know if I can tell you how to get in touch with Jes Morgan. That's an easy one. You sure you don't want a drink?" Ted nodded no. "What was your mom's name?"

"Teal Stedman."

"Stedman Pond?"

"Yes."

"Who did you say gave you my name?"

"Stan Detsmit; I met him at the library earlier today, right before I called you."

She grinned, "Well nee Stedman's son, I can only guess at why you want to talk to Jes, considering. Finding him is easy."

Bobbie noticed Ted, sitting at the opposite end of the sofa, looking at the pack of cigs, idly tracing the outline of a beer can stain on the arm with his index finger as he looked at her. Bobbie smiled at Ted; and when she had his complete, undivided attention she said, "I killed him."

"WHAT!"

"I killed him." She was so calm.

"Who!"

"The man you want to meet."

Such calmness! Surely Bobbie did not mean she literally killed someone. More like 'I ruined your chance to meet with him kill,' or like 'killed the chance' kill. "Oh, I see."

"No Ted, I killed, killed him. He's residing in the town cemetery. You can't miss his grave; towards the back, on the left."

Ted was speechless, sitting awash in thoughts. She offered a bone, "Don't worry, you're safe. It was an accident." So calm.

"An accident?" Ted relaxed a little.

Bobbie was well aware of the effect of the blue dress had faded in direct proportion to the wondering of his eyes to avoid what she meant by killing Jes. Not that Bobbie, for even an instant, thought Ted was lost to her. She knew he was here with his girlfriend. Nonetheless, she was well aware the effect the blue dress would have on him. She smiled at him. She smiled at herself, for Ted had long forgotten he was in town with his girlfriend. He had surrendered himself to Bobbie, the dropping of his guard, accepted that Bobbie could do no wrong by him. Bobbie had set him up. Then, she had dropped the bomb.

"Ted, he accidentally walked in front of a shotgun I was cleaning." The blue dress lost its effect. The shoulders, that only moments before begged to be kissed, and the neck, so soft and desirable, drifted from his mind. People do not accidentally walk in front of a shotgun being cleaned.

"Why are you telling me this?" Ted was taking stock of exit options.

"Because I like you." Such calmness. "Because, I figure you would go off to meet him and he would forget to tell you I killed him."

'Oh shit. What the hell have I walked into?' Ted had no intention to dig into Bobbie's last pronouncement. It made no sense and at the worst by staying in the room with her he could be digging his own grave. "Bobbie, don't take this the wrong way...but you kind of thrown me for a loop there."

"I know. I intended to. I like you and don't want anything to happen to you." Seeing Ted's reaction of pronounced hesitation, "Let's leave 'like' undefined. I don't know a Mr. Stan Detsmit, and since I like you, in an undefined manner, I don't want to help you talk to dead people."

Ted felt that if he were to look behind himself the wall would be gone and in its place would be a tier of seats filled by some reality TV show audience.

The conversation was no longer bordering on absurd, it had jumped the fence and Ted was ready to jump ship. Bobbie pointed to end table. She wanted Ted to take the folded newspaper. With the thought 'OK, I'll play the game until you blink and I beat feet through the door' he picked up the paper and looked at the date, 2001.

She indicates with a wave of her hand to unfold it. An article was circled in red ink: "Former Tamplation Policeman Killed in Tragic Accident."

If the world could stop turning it would have done so. Looking at Bobbie, "Is this some sort of joke, a gag article?"

"No, you can find it in the Library archive." Her voice was still so calm, so matter of fact. Ted read. Bobbie was right. Morgan had died in 2001. This was the second time since arriving in town Ted was to meet a dead person.

To ease his nerves Ted quips, "Talk about dead ends."

"I bet I shocked you."

"Bobbie, you shocked me!" Although still not at ease, "Was it really an accident?" Ted regretted his question, but the words seemed to spill from his mouth as if they had a life of their own.

"No. He tried to rape me," emotionless. Ted was once more at a loss for words.

Bobbie got up from the sofa and smoothed her dress of blue; smoothed her dress over great hips. She saw the involuntary movement of Ted's eyes. She walked over to the TV and picked up the cigs, then turned and offered him one. He shook his head no. As she tossed the pack back onto the TV, "Just being polite, I figured you did not smoke. Otherwise you would have gone to them ages ago." Ages ago, was a good description; for Ted felt he had been in the room with Bobbie for an eternity.

Bobbie walked back to the sofa and took her spot at the far end. She leaned at an angle, back against the arm. The blue dress rode high on her legs. When she crossed her outstanding legs, the dress rose higher on her thighs. Ted could not keep his eyes from following the hem of the dress. He cared not an iota that Bobbie was watching him stare at her legs, her thighs... He was mentally flustered.

The soft smile on Bobbie's face was both from amusement at Ted's discomfort and for his self-recognition of his actions. Ted was unaware that Bobbie was pleased with his inner struggle. Bobbie thought about stretching her arms above her head to see his reaction, but keeping Ted from becoming an unsolved murder victim was today's goal. 'The poor boy is so naive.' But that little inner devil kept whispering 'see how far you can take him.' No, Ted had the look of a really nice guy. And besides, he was almost kin, his mom came from Tamplation.

'But'...she decided to do a little test. Bobbie noticed that while Ted looked at her he had resumed absentmindedly tracing a beer can stain on the arm of the sofa with is index finger. So she looked at his tracing finger and, when she knew he was fully aware of her watching his action, still watching his finger, she crossed her left arm across her breasts and raised her right arm, placing her index finger against her lips. Ted's eyes followed her finger as her lips slightly parted and her pink tongue touched its tip. Ted's eyes followed her finger as she pulled her hand back from her lips and seemed to let the world contemplate – as she – the moist fingertip. Having his undivided attention, "I melt when a man draws circles like that on my nipple." Bobbie never looked at Ted's face, but she knew he was blushing.

Before the spell was broken, Bobbie stood up and abruptly walked to the door, "Come here I want to show you something." It was said as an order and Ted complied by following her into the kitchen. Bobbie never looked back; she instinctively knew he would follow her. With her back to Ted, "Use this door to leave." Ted did not want to leave. Bobbie turned to face him. "TED," in a voice that broke the spell she had woven, "you have two major problems. One, an overwhelming desire to talk to dead people. Someone is manipulating your search."

Ted stood listening, no longer held by her sensual spell, but her eye opening truth. Bobbie was aware of this, so she went on to number two, "Your second problem is more personal. What I did in there," motioning with her head, "was too easy. I make my living pleasing men. I survive by controlling, dominating them. You're the psychologist, Ted. I used your emotion against you. So is the person out there who sets up your appointments with dead people." Ted started to say something, but she cut him off. "I like you Ted. That girlfriend of yours is in love with you, and you're in love with her." In a soft, caring voice, "Marry her, have great sex with her, and don't be embarrassed if she gets tops."

She stepped aside and Ted walked out of the house.

4:34 PM. Too early for dinner and too late to do anything else but relax in the motel room. For Ted relaxation was not likely. Considering the implications, Ted had to stop and reassess his position and options. He had told Connie about the new 'dead' end and Bobbie being helpful. He did not tell Connie how Bobbie affected him; the sight of her delicate, sensuous foot playing hide and seek as she dangled her shoe.

That was how Connie had drawn his eyes to her at their university library. Ted could not take his eyes away from Connie's foot. The instep was soft to the eye, and Ted so wanted to drop in front of her and kiss her long tanned legs that seemed to draw his eyes to killer thighs peeking out from under the short skirt. Her flat stomach calling out to have you drag the backs of your fingers across and trace the path with soft kisses. Cleavage that hinted at small, perfect breast that would make a plastic surgeon drool. Sensuous lips that begged to be kissed. Her raw sex overpowered him and he worshiped the ground she walked.

Sitting on the end of the motel room bed, Ted chastised himself for twice now being led astray; or more precisely sent in the wrong direction looking for dead people. The TV was on mute, some program miming its way into the room. Ted stared at the floor contemplating if it was wise to tell Connie about Twitch and his 'that house' warning.

Connie sat at the desk plugging away on emails at her laptop; the world was at her door thanks to a cell phone and an Internet connection for the laptop. Realizing Ted had not spoken for some time, Connie looked up and, on seeing his hound dog look said, "Cheer up! Look at the money you saved by not having to buy coffee for them." He forced a grin.

Ted was not angry at Connie for her quip, as he knew she had his best interest at heart. 'At heart,' Bobbie said Connie loved him. How the hell did she know that. And that's another thing, why is it women keep taking the commanding roles in this odyssey? Where are the men – the living ones – in Tamplation? No, he thought, in this story the women are the leads. Ted had to count his mother, her mother, and there was Angie, and Bobbie, and of course Millie back at the University. 'I wonder what Millie would think about the dead people?' That last thought lingered for a second or two. Ted just realized Bobbie had referred to plural dead people. How come? Ted would keep this question to himself.

Connie saved her latest email as a draft, got up and walked over to Ted. She sat down, put her arm around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder, "You look tired. I am sorry about your day. And sorry I made a joke about it."

Ted put his arm around Connie, "I'm OK, really. Connie, I'm starting to be concerned, really concerned about you and me being here."

"Safety, or something deeper?"

"Hey, I'm the psychologist here!" They both laughed.

Connie felt a little better, nevertheless was still aware of Ted's funk. All the while she had personally tried to put 'scared' somewhere out of sight, out of mind.

Ted knew one appointment could be written off as some unfortunate misunderstanding, but a second date with death's citizens seemed more premeditated, more ominous. Hugging Connie tighter, head turned to look at her, "So where do we go from here?"

"Glad you said we."

"I think 'go from here' has several connotations. For the moment let's focus on my mysterious rendezvous."

Playfully, but pushing, "NO, hold on, what other connotations, mister?"

"Like telling you how much I love you and that I want to spend the rest of my life going places with you."

Connie was taken aback; stunned, speechless. She stood up and looked down at him. "Are you proposing?"

"That was a comment," reaching for her hand, and before she could say anything, "this is proposing!" Ted knelt on the floor, looked up into her eyes, "I want to marry you. I did not plan to ask you so impromptu. I don't even have the ring with me. Will you marry me?"

Connie knelt in front of him, started to say something, and then stopped. She looked at his face for what Ted felt was too long, then, "YES!" She threw her arms around him and they kissed. When Connie finally let him up for air, he told her she had scared him hesitating like that.

"I wanted to make sure you meant it." Seeing the Ted was entering the 'logical understanding thought phase,' as she called it, "Stop thinking for a second, not in a bad way, I know you love me. Maybe not as much as I love you; but more than a woman dreams of. I just wanted to make sure you were ready."

"Ready?"

"Not sure why you asked me now."

"I discovered that in addition to loving you, I have felt comfortable..." he stopped. "That wasn't very romantic."

"Talk!"

"Being with you here in the mist of whatever this adventure is, has opened my eyes to how much comfort I find with you being part of my life."

Connie thought about his words, "A loving team?"

"Yes. We make a loving team."

"I like that." She kissed his forehead, then poked him in the ribs. "Besides, I would have waited at least a few more days before taking charge and probably be the one who proposed."

"So, the future Mrs. Ted Dantary, what changed your mind and told you I was ready?"

"Always the psychologist looking for a paper to write. When you said you did not have THE ring. You did not just suddenly get the urge. Then I knew you had been thinking about this for some time."

"Yeah, from the moment I first saw you!" They kissed. It was dark outside when they stopped.

Dinner was at the Tack House, a new place that catered to the new townspeople. The blending of 'horse country' and 'urbane modern' was clearly on the other end of the dining spectrum from Kay-Bob's Diner. The Tack House was the only place open that was still serving dinner fare by the time Ted and Connie had broken contact, washed and dressed. It was Ted's idea to eat. Connie had wanted to stay undressed. As Connie made her way to the bathroom, "I'll keep this in the back of my head. Because I am sure that had 'I' said let's go eat, you would have whined."

Calling after her, "When have I ever whined?"

"I'm not wearing my watch so I'll have to guess...five or six minutes ago."

"You were smashing my you know what's!"

Connie poked her head around the wall separating the main room from the sink area outside the actual bathroom, "We're engaged now, you can use more descriptive terms. I promise I won't blush."

Seated in a back corner, the two lovers had trouble concentrating on anything but each other. The waitress made her third transit across the dining room to their table and stood, now impatiently, waiting for their order. Connie closed her menu, "I'll have whatever he orders."

Ted looked at Connie with a 'thanks for dropping the ball in my lap look,' "Steak, the New York Strip. Medium well for me, medium for the lady, and we'll both have the house salad and steamed vegetables.

The waitress asked if there was anything else she could get them. "We're fine, thank you." Connie looked at Ted and then the waitress, "Unless there's a jewelry store still open, as it seems my Mr. Wonderful forgot to bring the engagement ring." Ted hung his head in mock shame.

As the waitress started to turn away from the table, Ted remembered he had forgotten something, "Wait, there is something. If it's no problem, could you please bring a bottle of RC Cola and two glasses?" The waitress said no problem, and both Connie and Ted thanked her. She left for the kitchen with a satisfied look: 'TIP'."

Connie did not have to ask about the RC. It seems that when Teal and Tom became engaged they were at the park and when Teal asked Tom what they should toast their commitment with, the only thing they had was a bottle of RC. Tom said, "How appropriate Royal Crown, the Champagne of the South."

When the waitress arrived back at the table, the RC was in an ice bucket. She asked if Ted wanted her to pour. Ted nodded yes, and Connie held back her laughter as the waitress opened the bottle with flare, and poured the contents into two champagne glasses. She handed them each a glass, congratulated them, said the RC was on the house; she walked away thinking 'BIG TIP.'

Ted raised his glass, and when Connie raised hers, "To the most beautiful woman in the world. You have made me the happiest man in the world." They clanked glasses and drank– and resumed their young love-gazing.

Latter, back at the motel, Ted was brought back to the reality of Tamplation when he realized he was looking at the ceiling. Connie sensed the sudden change. While she did not fully understand what had caused Ted's abrupt loss of concentration, she did her best to put a smile on his face.

When Ted and Connie moved to spooning, to gain sleep mode, Connie shimmered in a coat of happiness. She had fallen in love with Ted when she was nine years old and he was just the older boy from around the corner. The day was a Sunday. She knew the exact date because she wrote in her diary: 'I saw my husband today, his name is Ted.' Connie had walked into church and there was a new family sitting in the same pew her family normally sat in. Introductions were made and Connie got to sit next to Ted for an entire hour. At nine Connie fell in love.

The small dog stood watching as Connie got ready for school. Later the dog would stand for hours by the living room window watching for Connie's returning school bus. Connie took her time this morning because she wanted to accidentally be near the bus stop the same time the new boy walked out of his house. She had cased his house, watched for him, and mentally noted his comings and goings. Today would be the day she made her move. The small dog knew something was amiss; Connie was taking too much time. When she finally dashed out the door, the small dog ran to the window and watched as Connie slowed her pace. The small dog watched Connie drop her book and, as she bent to pick it up, the small dog watched her say hello to someone new to the world of Connie and her small dog. The boy smiled and said hello. Connie said something, turned red and hurried off. The boy looked startled and just stood there, mouth kind of open and, just stood there looking at Connie who was walking quickly to the school bus stop.

When they had returned to spooning, Ted smiled and hugged Connie. He was thinking about the day she ambushed him as he was leaving for school. He had met her family in church and their pretty nine-year-old daughter sat next to him. Ted did not give it much thought; he was concerned about asking Karen to the movies. When the little girl dropped her book in front of his house Ted, instinctively the gentleman, started to pick it up for her. But the little girl said, "I'll get it, thank you. I'm Connie we met in church."

"Oh, hi; Ted."

"I like your name."

"Um, thanks...you have a very pretty name."

"Don't forget me Ted, I plan to marry you!" She ran off.

Ted stood in disbelief. 'Marry me?" His family's stay there was cut short and they moved a few months later.

Eleven years later, on their first date, having lived in separate places, Ted did not mention the morning Connie said she planned to marry him. He had seen her in the library, and fell totally in love with her before realizing he had known her years before. They talked about the old neighborhood and Ted asked Connie out. Then, standing outside the door of her apartment, Ted hesitated going for the good night kiss. Connie took the lead, "Still the gentleman, do you want me to drop my school book?"

"Your, oh, no, I just..."

They kissed and; when Ted felt the rush, he knew she had been so right that day eleven years earlier. When Connie closed the apartment door, she leaned her back against it, "He loves me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

— **////—**

### Chapter Twelve

July 14, 2005

Ted and Connie were woken at 8 AM by the room phone. When Ted answered, they discovered the handset volume was as loud as a speaker phone, and Ted had to hold the handset away from his ear, thus Connie was able to hear the caller as well. "Good morning Mr. Dantary, my name is Everett Donaldson, and I do hope I did not call too early."

"No, we...I was just getting up." Connie started to laugh as she grabbed at him to see if he was 'getting up.' Ted playfully swatted her hand away with his; she responded by mouthing, "Poo pah!"

The voice on the phone continued, "Good, would it be possible for you to stop by today?"

"Why do you want to speak to me, Mr. Donaldson?"

"Sorry, I am a lawyer who represents the owner of One Twenty-Three Simplicity Lane and you are listed as the inheritor by irrevocable trust...of course the present owner is very much alive."

There was a moment of silence, "Let me get this right. You're saying I will inherit One Twenty-Three Simplicity Lane."

"Yes."

All Ted could say was "Damn!" For the second time on this eerie trip Connie found herself waiting in the background listening to Ted get disturbing news by an unexpected phone call. Ted caught hold of himself, "Before we jump to conclusions Mr. Donaldson, who told you I was in town and where to contact me?"

"The current owner, of course."

"Of course."

"Mr. Dantary here's my address and phone number, please stop in." Ted wrote the information down and they set a time.

When Ted hung up the phone Connie asked if Mr. Donaldson had his insurance paid up considering Ted's track record. "Guess I should call Mom."

"This should be interesting. Wait Ted, let's check this out first."

Ted gave it some thought, kissed Connie on the forehead, and told her she was right. However, they did need to call Teal on a different matter and Connie tossed her cell phone to Ted.

"Good morning Mom, guess what, Connie and I became engaged last night."

"THAT'S GREAT, wonderful, fantastic...is she there?"

"No Mom, she's still out dancing with some young stud she met at the local bar celebrating."

"Ted! Let me talk to her!"

When Connie finished her long conversation with Teal, she begrudgingly got dressed and they went to breakfast. After which, Ted and Connie made a quick change in plans and showed up unannounced at the law office of Everett Donaldson; a nondescript, functional office that was located in the new section of the village. Ted explained who he was to the secretary and they were pleasantly told to have a seat and Mr. Donaldson would see them in a few minutes. Ted was taken aback by the ease of this impromptu appointment. Connie whispered, "You think he's legit?"

Sure enough, five minutes later Mr. Donaldson appeared in one of the doorways leading off from a central hallway. He was as nondescript as the office. From his dress, a kind of Richmond conservatism slightly updated to match the newness of the building the office was located in, Mr. Donaldson did not look dangerous. He looked like the typical lawyer. 'But danger can arrive in undefined brown paper wrappers,' Ted thought as he stood to shake Mr. Donaldson's outstretched hand.

Before Connie could rise, Mr. Donaldson gave a warm smile, reached out his hand and said, "Please, stay seated." Connie figured if he was a crook at least he had manners. Mr. Donaldson seemed to have lots of manners, "If you would please excuse Mr. Dantary and I, as I am not a liberty to discuss these matters except with him." Connie nodded.

The inner office area was as nondescript as the rest of the office. Nondescript was the only word Ted could think of to describe Mr. Donaldson's abode and that bothered Ted since he did not like to deal with people who attached no personal decorating touch to an office. You may not have the same taste in art, may not like the pictures of little Nel playing dress-up, or even the furniture itself, nevertheless at least there was a personal touch. Mr. Donaldson's office gave the impression he was not planning to become attached to the office, nor the town.

Ted was shown to one of two comfortable leather chairs separated by a coffee table of dark wood. Mr. Donaldson got right to the point, "It was nice of you to respond so quickly to my call; I must admit I was surprised to find you here so quickly."

"The call was a surprise. I am not aware of anyone in my family still owning Simplicity Lane and I have never met the owner."

"Neither have I. However he is far from dead, and was very much alive when I spoke to him on the phone yesterday."

If Ted was surprised, he did not show it. Nothing in Tamplation, or this entire episode of his life, was surprising anymore. He almost laughed from relief there was not another dead person.

Not being able to read Ted's reaction, Mr. Donaldson rubbed this chin for a second, "Everything was conducted by mail, signed and notarized, of course."

"Of course."

"That was some five years ago, soon after I moved my practice to Tamplation from Richmond."

"He called you yesterday?"

"Yes, and of course he gave me permission to speak to you. However, you must understand, the property will eventually be yours, but today I am only permitted to give you enough information to let you know the papers are legal and properly filed with the County."

"Mr. Donaldson, who is the 'He' we have been talking about."

"Sorry, I forgot this was a surprise to you, please forgive me. The 'He' is a private corporation, and I am sorry, but the principle, the person who has designated you as the heir, is not public knowledge."

"You'll have to understand I am having a hard time believing this story" ('and when do you ask for the good faith money?').

"I am not surprised Mr. Dantary. My dealings with the corporation and its principle has been, what... _obscurum per obscurious_."

Ted changed to a more stiff position. 'This guy is definitely explaining the obscure by means of the more obscure.' "Then you will forgive me for being suspicious."

"Quite the correct reaction; I would be myself."

"You said the papers were signed five years ago, so how come now?"

"I have no idea. Look, let me explain the history behind this, or at the most, what I know. Soon after I arrived in Tamplation I received a call from the principle's secretary. He wanted me to draw up papers that would cede the property at One Twenty-Three Simplicity Lane to you. I learned that during the title search that your mother once owned the property. Apparently she inherited it from her father and immediately sold the property to the private corporation that currently owns it."

Ted had listened quietly, even when Mr. Donaldson's last comment made him more uncomfortable ('nice one Mom, you never mentioned this'). "Mr. Donaldson, are you aware of my mother's family connection to that property?"

"Yes, I did some research and know that your mother lived there until she was about six, I believe." Mr. Donaldson looked as if he suddenly realized the milk was sour. Ted waited. Again rubbing his chin first, "Mr. Dantary are you aware of the...the feelings about the property some people in Tamplation have?"

"I believe the word is 'spooky'?"

"I would put it more as 'taboo.' People around here do not like the place; they stay away from the house."

"You mean like school children daring each other to go there?"

"No, as in no one goes there. That's the real unusual part; even the high school kids avoid the place. On the plus side, the house may be in poor condition but the kids don't throw stones at it. Then, with four deaths associated with the house..."

Ted cut him off, "Four?"

"Yes. I gather the first owner died soon after moving in. There were two policemen killed out front. I believe that was at the time your mother's family was still living there. The fourth death was a man found in the attic a year or so later. The police ruled it a murder and believed to be the result of a disagreement between two or more persons that had broken in while the people living there were away."

"Who lives there now?"

"No one," leaving off 'haven't you grasped this yet.' When I became involved, the house had been vacant for some time. I doubt if you could rent the place, even if you spent the money to repair the house." Again Mr. Donaldson rubbed his chin. "Another strange thing about this situation is our explicit instructions about maintaining the property. Once a year I have someone weed-whack the grass in the front yard, but the items lying around – old toys, an old bike – are to be left alone. I had the roof repaired, but other items, such as the porch, the gate, windows are to be left as is. Just trying to get someone to work out there is a problem. I have to hire folks from other towns." Ted could not help but rub his own chin.

"Mr. Dantary, everything about the place is creepy, however I can assure you the house and adjoining acreage, 22.35 to be exact, is in a trust that goes to you on the current owner's death; unless of course for some reason he decides to complete the transfer earlier."

By the end of their meeting Ted was filled with more questions than when he arrived. The house may be in poor condition, yet the land, due to the new population, was worth over three million; well beyond the mere $60,000 the current owner paid. Ted felt Mr. Donaldson had held the land value information for last. Was he hoping Ted would not ask? That would have been stupid since, obviously, Ted would check the value. No, there was a lot more to Simplicity Lane than even Mr. Donaldson knew.

As they were walking back to where Connie had waited patiently, "Mr. Donaldson, one last question. The owner knew I was in town?"

"He just said you were in town for your University work."

Ted stopped and turned to face Mr. Donaldson, "He knows why I am here?"

"Yes, for your university work and that you were staying at the motel. That's why I was not totally surprised that you could meet me quickly."

Connie heard this exchange and the gasp she made startled Mr. Donaldson; she recovered quickly, "I'm sorry, must have been something I just heard."

As they walked to the car Ted told Connie the story. Connie had the same reaction as Ted; too much was going on to let this latest event seem just 'odd.' "Wait till he meets your mom!"

"What?"

"Yep, she called while you were in his office. Teal will be here about 6:30 tonight. I got her a room next to ours."

Ted started to say something about the location of Teal's room, but Connie placed a finger on his lips, "Let's be realistic. While I know you're worried about how your mom is going to take us being together in the same room, she knows." Ted smiled. They kissed.

Upon reaching the car, Ted held the passenger door for Connie. She almost sat down, stopped, turning slightly towards him, "What? Your mind is moving in fast forward"

"I need to drive out to Simplicity Lane before she gets here."

"Why?"

"Because I think the present owner will be waiting for me."

"Don't you want to wait until Teal gets here?"

"I think I have already met the mystery man."

She was now more confused.

"At the library. I will bet a ton of money he was not only the stranger who sent me to meet Bobbie, but I would venture to guess Mr.X is also the person who has been doing the research on the Internet, thus Angie."

"But, Ms. Glendale said the researcher was from Kansas."

"In your words, the miracle of the Internet. He probably routed his questions through a college in Kansas. Most likely the guy has never set foot in Kansas."

"Ted," she was visibly worried, "maybe we should go to the police."

"What do I tell them? I'm to inherit a property worth a cool three million plus, I have been set up to meet with two dead people, and, oh by the way, this all has to do with the local ghoul house."

"OK, but I am going with you."

Ted knew he would not be able to talk her out of it. "Connie since you're so good at surprises, how do we spring this on Mom?"

"I like how you said we, as in husband and wife." So did Ted.

The quick drive out to Simplicity Lane was through the new section of Tamplation and it was apparent why the land would be worth so much; as Simplicity Lane stood in the gateway of beautiful rolling farmland. The property was close enough to the new section to make shopping convenient, while low hills were a natural wall to block out the pace of the town.

Ted parked on the road by the pond. They got out and stood by the car surveying the place. The two were struck by the lifeless smell of stillness. Two tree lines formed a wedge north and west of the house. Black locust, southern red oak, and interspersed butternut, all tall – 30, 50, 70 feet – old trees with long reaching limbs loomed in the background. Their massiveness dwarfed the small house and the two people now standing in their presence.

Connie already knew about the two policemen found dead in front of the house. Seeing the spot made her involuntary shiver.

The wood frame house was part of a larger parcel of land that included areas once farmed and Stedman's Pond, which lay west of the house in front of a tree line. The pond looked like it would be an ideal picnic spot if not for the foreboding tree line. The seventy foot southern red oaks hung over the pond, like oppressive heavy curtains blocking out the warmth of the sun from an evil room.

The front yard could best be described as wild, with wind-swept knee-high grass and weeds, spattered with rusted remnants of unknown objects. The picket fence was a disaster and the gate hung open from its hinges. Human souls had long ago ceased to reside at One Twenty-Three Simplicity Lane.

Ted thought about going up to the door and almost took a step, then changed his mind. He looked around.

Connie looped her arm through his. "He's not here."

"I would not be so sure; there are a lot of places to hide. But, I don't think he wants to meet you."

"I'm not pretty enough for him."

"Yep, he has better taste than me."

She gave him a hip bump and let her arm slide down so she could take his hand. "Ted, let's go." And when Connie looked over her shoulder – as their car eased back down the lane – she could have sworn the house smiled at her; not a loving smile.

Nor did Teal smile lovingly the day she was swept up into the house's history that second time.

For Teal that day in 1990 was like it was just yesterday. She knows the exact minute; the oven timer went off at 3:26 PM. Before Teal could run from the laundry room – where she was transferring wet clothes to the dryer – the phone rang. And wouldn't you know it, the doorbell chimed. "Wait a minute, I'll be right there," to the door, oven, and phone. Teal ran up the stairs to the kitchen to save the cake. The phone stopped ringing – no doubt I'll find a message from Tom – but the doorbell impatiently chimed again as she pulled the cake from the oven, "I'll be right there!" She placed the cake on a cooling rack and headed for the door. It chimed again. "WAIT A SEC!" When Teal opened the door a delivery man was impatiently waiting with a flat mailer in his hand under a metal clipboard. "Good afternoon, you need to sign for this, please."

Teal signed, took the envelope, and thanked him. She wondered who would have sent something overnight express. Teal did not step back into the house. She stood motionless in the doorway looking at the return address from a lawyer in Tamplation. Had the cat not taken advantage of Teal's trance and brushed against her leg as it dashed outside, Teal would probably have stood in the open doorway all night. "What the..." she caught herself, turned and slowly walked into the house; closing the door to the cat. Teal walked to the kitchen; still looking at the return address, she walked by instinct. She knew no one in Tamplation. Teal had never heard of the attorney. She stood in the kitchen staring at the flat, taping it with her finger; tap, tap, tap. Teal sat down at the breakfast table, still just looking at the package; hesitating to open it. She instinctively knew it was bad news. As far as she was concerned no good news had ever emanated from Tamplation.

It was seven hours later before she opened the package. Teal had simply placed it on the table and went about her housework. She decorated the cake, a little something for the woman next door, and finished the laundry. The call had been from a member of the church asking if she could usher on Sunday. She had walked past the flat package a dozen times. She looked at it while she iced the cake, and while she wrote some thank you cards for gifts friends had sent for her birthday. Teal was in denial.

Finally Teal knew she could not put off opening the damn thing any longer and pulled the tab that zipped open the package. As she removed the contents she held it away from her body as if some ogre was going to jump out. After all these years away from Tamplation she still did not underestimate the evil she had witnessed in those eyes. The word Tamplation was defined in Teal's book as those eyes burning a hole into her. Burning a hole into a small frightened child, who wanted nothing more than to win a game of hide-and-seek.

"SHIT! DOUBLE SHIT!" in a voice loud enough to rouse the neighbors; and thankfully Ted was on a camping trip. She jumped out of her seat knocking the chair over backwards. There was a letter inside that said Teal had inherited One Twenty-Three Simplicity Lane, Stedman's Pond, and the surrounding acreage. "SHIT!" Teal dropped the letter on the floor, stepped back, and observed the piece of paper as if it was a slithering snake; fangs dripping with venom. "Shit..."

Teal looked down at the letter. Maybe this is a nightmare. She grabbed the kitchen phone. She needed to call Tom in Germany; he was at some training center and would not be home for days.

"Hi honey, what's with the early morning wake-up call? Anything wrong?"

"Tom...I received a letter from a lawyer in Tamplation."

"When?"

"This afternoon." The short responses and the taping noise he could hear Teal making in the background – fingernail against the phone, tap, tap, tap – worried Tom.

"Who was it from?"

"Some attorney."

'OK, come on Teal lets have some more info here,' "Teal darling, what does he want?"

"He represents a trust made by my dad. It says I've inherited One Twenty-Three Simplicity Lane."

"Shit," that's all Tom could think of; yet the word was the switch that turned the light on in Teal's head.

"I have been saying that word a lot tonight."

"I can imagine. You had no idea your father still owned the property. What are you planning to do?"

"I'll call Tamplation first thing tomorrow and tell them to sell the place."

"Teal, I'll see if I can get home sooner."

"Tom, please stay in Germany. I do want you here beside me, but I am sure all I'll have to do is call and arrange for the place to be sold."

"You sure?"

"Yes, in seven years Ted will need the money for college and maybe the place will have finally served some good."

"I'll be home Friday. Call me anytime you need me."

"I know. I love you so much."

Teal made it to the bedroom only to lie on the bed looking at the ceiling. She thought about her fears. Tap, Tap, Tap. She thought about looking at her son's face as she cradled him in her arms, how it reflected her own vision of horror.

Of fear, there are not just different kinds. Fear attacks with different levels of intensity and varying degrees of impact on one's life. Of fear there is no one way to describe all fear. No one definition fits all. Teal was afraid to close her eyes and sleep. Sleep is like the darkened room in which dwells the eyes of raw terror. She thought of Danny, and the thought that maybe even death was simply an awakening to the reality of the darkness.

She called the lawyer first thing in the morning and within a week she had signed papers. The property was sold a few days later. On that day in 1990 Teal thought One Twenty-Three Simplicity Lane had become another memory.

As for the house itself, the last family to live in the house had moved out quickly in late 1967 with the death of Fat Billy. The house became irrevocably vacant and only the surrounding farm land paid a small income from lease.

Thus, 1967 can be called the final year anyone tried to infuse love into the house. Like a good murder mystery, the end came one night as the sky was getting dark and foreboding. There was a slight wind whistle weaving its presence in the air; the wind playing the flowers and foliage. Otherwise, the place was death still in silence. He walked up the road with measured steps. When he reached the wooden gate he stopped, as if to test the air, test it with his senses. He was feeling for something unseen. His clothes were too warm for the season. He had packed fast, not having time to choose his clothes more carefully. These were role-playing clothes; the shirt and tie spoke of official. His underarms were dampening the long sleeve white shirt. The tight collar and snug tie were uncomfortable, but he dismissed the word uncomfortable.

Like a predator he tested the air. Stopping gave him time to think, to prepare. Satisfied everything was as it should be, the man moved forward towards the house. The stones of the pathway crunched under the determined rhythm of advance. Not concerned with the noise – it would help cover his intent should he be seen, why look like you are sneaking about – the man was not trying to mask his approach. The owners were away on vacation, so the house was vacant. To a passerby he looked like some sort of official checking on the property.

Once on the porch he did not hesitate, walking straight to the front door. He knocked. No one was expected to respond. Even if someone had answered he would have calmly given his plausible story and then walked away. Then, as expected, the house was vacant and no one responded. No one called out 'wait a minute while I put a robe on;' no one came around from the back of the house, with a flower pot in one hand and dirt covered gloves in the other; no one was home. The man tried the door knob. It turned freely, however the deadbolt lock held the door shut.

No problem, he expected this and used the key drawn from his pocket. He made it himself. She had thanked him when he graciously picked her keys up off the floor; such a nice man. He had pushed them off the counter when her back was turned to him and, as he retrieved them, he made an impression of the key in the clay hidden in his palm. Locks like this one were easy, not having the tight tolerances like security locks he was so adept at overcoming.

Once inside he relocked the deadbolt and stood, as he had at the gate, listening, feeling the house breathe as it slept. Judging it was safe, the man quickly moved to the second floor and found a place within the shadows to wait. Five hours later utter darkness had befallen. The cloud-dense sky obscured the moon; which is why he picked tonight. He waited in the silence of the house; restful waiting.

A window downstairs was being lifted, the dining room window, just like the night before. The man slowed his breathing and maintained his silence allowing his ears to see. He could picture the visitor climbing through the window. Then, the creaking of the floorboards in the dining room indicated the visitor was moving away from the window. The stairs voiced the visitor's climb; soon the second floor hallway floor echoed a presence. At the end of the hallway the visitor reached up and pulled on the rope that opened the trapdoor to the attic. The man heard the attic stairs unfolding and heard them take the weight of the visitor.

The man listened in darkness until he could hear the visitor moving around in the attic. The visitor was now occupied, searching. The man slowly, quietly made his way to the attic stairs. Satisfied the visitor was preoccupied, the man deftly climbed the stairs and was in the attic before the visitor was aware someone else was sharing the attic space. The man shot the visitor dead with a .45 caliber automatic. The visitor took the round and was flung against an old desk, sliding to the floor, blood leaving a trail on the desk. One shot at close range had removed a troublesome meddler. Turning his back on the dead body, Donatien left the attic and left the house; leaving One Twenty-Three Simplicity Lane and the body of Fat Billy behind him.

— **////—**

### Chapter Thirteen

July 14, 2005

last week the cat ate a mouse

bit off all but the pink ears and tail

the cat seemed all right

but the mouse

well, the mouse only bit the dust

Teal wrote the poem on a napkin while sitting in the airport food court waiting for her flight; then tossed it, crumbled, in to her bag. She did that: wrote, read, crumbled, tossed aside, and, eventually, re-read. Every once in a while Teal would reach into her bag, or the vanity drawer at home, and pull out one of the crumbled pieces of paper and re-read it. If worthy enough, she'll flatten out the piece of paper and file it in her book of prose. Neither Tom nor Ted knew of Teal's paper-crumbling-drop-in-bag-wait-for-the-right-moment-to-re-read routine. They never asked why the pages of her book were crumbled-looking. If they had, Teal would lie to them, making up some plausible story; some artistic eccentricity. The truth be, she crumbled the negativism, the underpinnings of unannounced fear that could creep into her writing. Teal relived the fear of darkness by hiding her words from its inevitable approach. Sheltering the good words alee to the hand of fear that would take hold of her pen and drag the ink across innocent paper; tap, tap, tapping across her mind.

Teal's flight to be with the two kids was uneventful. She drove a rental from the airport, located some sixty miles from the village, straight to the motel. After a quick check-in, thanks to Connie's attention to details, she went to dinner with Ted and Connie.

The evening concluded with Ted and Connie taking Teal on a short driving tour of the town. Teal's memories of Tamplation were scant; a building here, a building there. Nothing remained of the Little Bow Peep Day Care that had long past closed. Then, as they were on a street that ran south of the village square, Teal became short and said, "Let's call it a night!" Ted and Connie were taken by surprise with the sudden change; attributing it to the stress of the hurried trip to meet them.

By the time they arrived back at the motel Teal seemed to have calmed down; she was tired. Nevertheless, the three sat in the lobby and had a mother, son, and future daughter-in-law guess-what-I am-going-to-inherit chat.

Teal's reaction to the news about Simplicity Lane was best described as 'measured anxiety.' She quietly listened to Ted, and then seemed to drift off to another planet. There was a hint of the same change exhibited at the end of the tour; however, this time it was laced with worry. Teal recovered and took one of their hands in hers. She squeezed Ted's hand, "Did this Mr. Donaldson tell you I once owned the place?"

"Yes. He said the property was willed to you by Granddad and then sold quickly by you."

"That's right. I got rid of a bad memory. But it seems that memory found its way back home."

"Mom, what would you like me to do?"

"Without going into details, I recommend that you turn down the offer...no wait, how many million? Sell the place right away and use the money to buy my FUTURE grandchildren toys, lots of toys." She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Ted, Connie, let's enjoy this trip. I came here to be with the two of you, not to let old memories rear their ugly head." Ted and Connie agreed. Still, Ted was leery about Teal's fawned calm attitude. Something was brewing in her head.

Teal left them in the lobby saying she wanted to first grab a magazine before heading to her room. Ted and Connie got on the elevator as Teal entered the gift shop.

Their elevator went down to the parking garage. They had not paid attention to the lit direction arrow when the door opened; just followed the lead of the woman standing next to them. At the garage level the woman got off. Of course on the ascending trip, the elevator stopped at the lobby level and the doors opened to let no one on. Ted said it must be a ghost getting on. Connie laughed; however her attention was on Teal. Teal was talking on a pay phone; odd, she thought, why not her cell phone? The elevator door closed and Connie returned her attention to Ted.

Twenty minutes later Teal, exhausted, was in her room, sitting on the foot of the bed taking off her shoes. She decided to rest for a second and woke up in the morning. She had not even taken the time to read the card with the beautiful flowers that had been delivered to the room while she was at dinner. She had thought they were surely from Tom.

In the morning Teal saw the flowers again and this time read the card. Had the phone not rung, Ted asking if they should wait for her, Teal would still be smiling at the flowers. Just prior to reading the card Teal had been thinking about how she had reacted the previous night when they drove past the old abandoned building that once housed the Montgomery Hardware Store. Teal had wanted to leave Tamplation as soon as possible. Then, a six thousand pound rock was dropped on her lap. 'Guess what Mom, I am going to inherit Simplicity Lane.' Well, Ted may not have been that blunt, but his attempt to be nonchalant was funny enough that it kept her from fainting when she heard the announcement. Teal's nerves were ragged and the trip has just begun. She quickly dressed, placing the card in her bag as she left the room to meet the kids in the lobby.

As the elevator descended Teal took the card out and reread it once again. When the door opened at the lobby level a couple saw Teal leaning back against the far wall, just looking at the card and making no effort to exit the elevator. The man started to ask if something was wrong, but the woman nodded to get on. The elevator rose to the sixth floor with Teal still looking at the card. As the couple exited the elevator the woman told her companion, "I wish you would send me a note like that!" The sound of the woman's voice had broken the trance, the door closed and Teal pushed the lobby button. Again at the lobby, Teal exited the elevator; love still reflecting in her face. She placed the card in her bag; it read "Love always, T."

"They must be union," Teal was impatient to get her pancakes and said the waitress was "winter molasses slow".

"Mom, give the woman a break." Ted was sure it had to be her nerves, because Teal was normally so understanding. The three were sitting in a restaurant a block's walk from the motel.

Connie silently hoped Ted could contain his own apprehensiveness and be a calming influence on Teal; Connie was stressed enough before Teal's arrival. Realistically she knew 'relax' was a subjective term. Regardless of Ted's forced, relaxed manner, you could not overlook the fact Tamplation was becoming – no, is – downright frightening. As her grandma would say ' _salto motale_ ,' and this was, in Connie's mind, a deadly leap of faith. Connie firmly believed they should have left soon after Ted's first dead end meeting. Unfortunately, each time the subject was at hand something else would sway Ted's mind. Now Teal was here.

Teal played with her coffee cup; soundlessly tapping the side of the cup with the underside of a finger.

The waitress finally brought their food; then, after all of her inpatient waiting, Teal hardly touched hers while Ted and Connie chowed down.

Now, with breakfast semi-taken care of, they left the restaurant and walked back to the motel where the cars were parked. Teal and Ted would take the car she had rented at the airport to see some more of the town. Teal's cell phone rang. It was Tom calling from London asking how her morning was going. The day before Teal had simply told Tom, "I've decided to go to Tamplation to meet Ted and Connie." Tom had taken the news about Ted's future inheritance nervously, but kept his comments to only one or two 'oh shits.' Teal wished Tom could get back from London to be in Tamplation with her. Tom was much more than a loving husband. Tom was her rock, the person who held her in the middle of the night when the fear of the nightmares was so overpowering; the man who made her body snap with electricity from a single kiss. He was her lover, and she his. They were one. Teal had regrets in her life, none deeper than her failure to tell Tom the full measure of her fears. "I'll tell the two love birds your congrats, and Tom, I love you." Teal placed the phone back in her pocket.

"Is Dad coming home soon?"

"Next Friday. I do miss him." She said that for Ted and Connie's engagement education; pushing her way between them and linking her arms in theirs as they resumed their short walk to the cars. And as she walked, she thought about the day she found out Simplicity Lane was her property...Tom was in Germany, and he would not be home until Friday. This time he is in London and once more returning on a Friday. Teal wondered if this was coincidence or something linked to the evil of Tamplation that waited until her rock was removed before acting.

At the motel parking lot Ted kissed Connie and hoped she would have a nice morning; Connie was staying at the motel to catch-up on her 'I'm engaged' calls.

Mother and son drove for a while, then decided to walk. For the first block Teal was quiet, just taking in the scene unfolding before them. The village was as foreign to her as it was to Ted. The two could not overlook the obvious contrast between old and new. The new areas – much in tune with their world – were not as alien as the old village.

Tamplation was like an artist sketch drawn over an existing work, with the artist not using enough cover paint, thus allowing the old to peeked through. There was a feeling of desertion. Ted had felt this as soon as he arrived. The old area was like a ghost town shimmering in the background.

"Honey, what do you make of this place?"

Ted knew that he could be a thousand and his mom would still think of him as her little boy. There was warmth in that. "I tried not to be too academic about this place, yet it begs to be studied. The old village is...remote. That's it, remote. Almost as if the longtime residents have purposely washed their hands of the past. The buildings speak of age. What, some more than 200 years old. Yet, even the few people I have met, whose families go back two, three, or more generations are somehow disconnected from the history held within the wood and bricks."

"That was deep! I hope you ease up when Connie asks if her dress looks nice."

"Mom, I'm a psychologist; deep is my business."

"You're good at your business. I agree they have turned their backs on the past. My family did it, so why should the others not?"

"Good point. The feel here should not have surprised me."

They walked and discussed the buildings, the trees – so large with age and maturity – and the history that was encapsulated in even the low stone walls that separated the older properties. Before they realized it, time had swept by and they had to rush back to meet Connie for lunch.

After lunch Ted announced he was going to put Simplicity Lane aside and hit the streets to work on the project he claimed was the real reason for being in town. Connie grabbed Teal by the arm and announced they were going shopping and Teal would drive her rental since Ted was taking their car.

If you want to learn about the history of a small town talk to the one man who knows the facts, the undertaker. Bigford's was the people bank of Tamplation; where memories of those dearly departed souls are deposited for safe keeping. Cemeteries hold dust and bones, but Bigford and Sons Funeral Home held generations of names and faces.

Ted was met at the door by Jonathan Nelson Bigford. The Bigfords were one of the original families to settle Tamplation and they opened the funeral business seven months later not by design. When the first settler died, Nelson Hargrave Bigford, the village shopkeeper, volunteered to do the burial. When the second one died, Nelson figured there would be money in digging holes in the ground. Jonathan Bigford had taken the keys to the business from his father, and had now turned them over to his own son. Jonathan Bigford agreed to meet Ted Dantary out of curiosity; he was curious why a university-type was interested in Tamplation history; when the village citizens did not seem to have any such desire.

Ted had no sooner extended his hand when Jonathan Bigford said, "Stedman, you're Teal's son...have to be. It's been a long time young man, and my memory is not what it used to be, but if you're not Teal's child, you probably have a double running around somewhere in the world."

"Teal's my mom."

"Ted, come on inside and let's talk."

They went into the family sitting room, the place where the loved one's could be alone from the rest of the mourners. "You can call me Jonathan, then I reckon your mom would consider that impolite. However, since I recall she attempted to flush a bunch of flowers down one of the visitor toilets, she owes me. Course she was, what, five or six?"

Ted could not help but laugh, "Mr....Jonathan, you'll have to forgive me, my Mom does not talk about Tamplation, so I have no real...family history for the place."

"I can understand. Your grandparents left for the wrong reasons. I was your granddad Dan's best friend. We were inseparable. I was at the hospital the day your mom was born. He was so proud and, and please don't tell my son this, I have never seen a baby as beautiful as Teal. I think she learned by two how those eyes of hers could turn to her favor. Smart, bossy, inquisitive, and loving...the little imp could do no wrong when she batted those teal eyes at you."

Ted smiled. He knew what Jonathan meant and had seen Teal in action around Dad.

"How is Teal? Please say hello for me."

"She's fine. In fact she's here in town...out shopping with my girlfriend. Ooops, fiancé; I'm new at this, only two days."

"Congratulations. Plans?"

"Not yet. I was planning to ask her when we got home."

"I would like to meet her and, of course, see Teal."

"That would be great."

Then Jonathan told Ted about Teal's belief the Cookie Lady was going to be flushed down the toilet like a dead goldfish, and when her Mom was occupied, she grabbed some roses and sent them to the Cookie Lady.

They talked about Tamplation's history and Ted's family history. Then, in answer to Ted's question as to what happened here to cause the population to dwindle, "It was nothing medical, economical, or even physical. It was as if everyone felt it was time to leave and someone turned out the light."

"Interesting choice of words."

"See that table," pointing to a mid-1800's dark wood table covered with a red velvet tablecloth, "that table may be the only tangible evidence of the moment Tamplation died," shaking his head in self-agreement. Like your Mom said, it all starts and ends with the Cookie Lady, Bessie Whatts."

"The village center – the commerce and non-farming homes – just about burnt away in 1876. The original Bigford's was one of the casualties." Jonathan told of how the Cookie Lady legend started. "That table was all that was left of Bigford's after the fire. My family was ready to pack it up and pack it in. But Mrs. Whatts and her girls came to the rescue of this village. The men rallied around the women, and Bigford's was operating out of a tent. They had to bring coffins over from another village. Like I said, the only piece of Bigford property still usable was that table. Someone placed that red velvet table cloth over it and Mrs. Whatts placed the first plate of cookies on it. Ted, until the day Bessie Whatts died, no funeral in this village was without a warm plate of cookies for the family on that table."

Jonathan stopped for a moment, lost in a flood of memories. "The first Mrs. Whatts, then Clare, then Bessie Whatts sat next to it bringing the warmth, hope, and love that heals and binds. There was no Cookie Lady at Bessie Whatts' funeral. That fact was not missed on the villagers. You could see in their eyes that they could not grasp the reality of being without her. Then when officers Pepper and Harris died the reality smacked them in the face. You have a hard time suddenly standing alone on your own legs when someone has always held you up."

As if on que, Ted stood and walked over to the table; he touched the worn velvet cover, "How do you remember the Cookie Lady...personally?"

"One day Dan and I went fishing at the pond. I 'borrowed' my dad's best rod since he was at work. No sooner did we get to the middle of the pond, the boat rocks and I fall in, dropping the rod. The bottom was too muddy to see the rod; tried our darndest, but I lost it. Well, personally, I did not particularly want to go home, so I went to the Cookie Lady's. A few warm cookies later she tells me that my dad had once came to see her when he was worried about going home. How after a few cookies, four I recall, he understood his dad loved him no matter what. Bessie Whatts looked at me, nodded yes, and said 'run home sweet child, all will be right.' I did and it was...well my rear end was sore for a while, but then again, she was right."

Ted's answer to the Tamplation riddle was confirmed. It was not an answer one could reduce to passionless, cold metrics, but the answer nonetheless. Thanking Jonathan, they walked to Ted's car. Jonathan turned back to the house just as Ted's cell phone rang. Jonathan shook his head in mock disgust, "Newfangled, find-you-wherever-you-are, interruptions." He had already closed the door before Ted quickly drove off.

Now back inside Jonathan absent mindedly found himself in the sitting room standing next to the old table with the red velvet tablecloth. As he ran his fingers over the worn velvet, the stories of his life ran across his mind. He had told Ted about the Cookie Lady's reassurance of parental love, of his friendship with Ted's grandfather, and Dan's love for two little bundles of pink and blue. Jonathan had not lied about feeling Teal was the most beautiful baby, then little girl, he had ever seen.

He had told Ted about the first death associated with One Twenty-Three Simplicity Lane, a workman who died during the construction. Then there were the original owners, the newlyweds. The husband died soon after moving in. Jonathan told Ted how Ted's great grandfather bought the house, "The Stedman property originally ended at Simplicity Lane, the strip next to the pond. Your great granddad did not like the idea of your grandfather moving into that house, but Dan wanted a place for his own family; to hell with the unfortunate prior deaths."

Jonathan remembered far too much to tell Ted in a single visit. Especially of the Cookie Lady's funeral. He remembered how the Stedman family stood amongst the crowd in the funeral home reception area.

At the funeral Teal was looking, earnestly looking, for the giant toilet they would use to flush the Cookie Lady down. Regardless of what Mom and Dad said, she firmly believed the Cookie Lady would be sent off to heaven like Fin was. Teal pulled at her mom's arm, twisting and turning, both little girl impatient and trying to look around the grown-ups to see where the toilet was. "Teal please stop squirming."

Teal tried to stand still, but it is hard to be six years old amongst a forest of tall adults. She was upset the Cookie Lady had died. She had trouble understanding why. Just days before the Stedman had sat in the Cookie Lady's kitchen eating cookies, visiting so Teal and Danny would be reassured the Cookie Lady was not dead. Now Teal felt deserted by the Cookie Lady; the person who gave her the toy elephant. "Here you are child, I bet you will give this nice elephant a grand home. It's an orphan. You take good care of him." Now Teal stood, one hand pulling on her mother's arm, the other from which the elephant dangled. Jonathan Bigford, making his rounds in the room, stopped and complemented Teal on her dress and said the elephant was wonderful. Teal took heart with that remark.

But now it was 2005, a long time to mull over memories. Jonathan Bigford moved to the sitting room doorway and, as he turned off the lights, a cold chill enveloped him. In response Jonathan Bigford silently said a prayer to himself, the same prayer he had been saying for some forty years. He stood in the doorway, holding on to the frame with his right hand. Eyes closed, he felt the tears welling up. The memory of rushing into that back room of the hardware store, of seeing Dan Stedman on his knees, arms wrapped around a screaming little girl. Danny's arms were around her neck, sobbing 'I told him to leave my sister alone!' To this day Jonathan has never again seen such terror as reflected in the eyes of those two kids. For over forty years Jonathan had been praying, "Lord please protect us from the evil that visited Danny and Teal." Less than a mile away the threads of that evil moved from the depths of the shadows into the day.

Across town Connie stood in the checkout line to pay for an arm load of toys, thinking Teal was probably already at the car. Connie had seen the toy store and remembered her nephew's birthday; asking Teal if she would mind her going in while Teal checked out a dress boutique a few stores down. The toy store was large, a national chain store, and with the boutique, it exemplified the new era of Tamplation commerce by dominating the Mom & Pop stores that had once served the village. She needed a gift for her nephew's fifth birthday, and since he lived in Alaska, going to the party was out of the question. If she mailed the toys by tomorrow they would arrive in time. Otherwise she would have to send money and 'tisk, tisk' you can not spoil a five-year old with a check.

Six toys later, Connie stood in the checkout line. She had been waiting forever and at last was able to plop the items on the counter while the sales clerk checked out the person ahead of her. The store was crowded, not so much from a lot of customers, but the closeness of the shelves and displays that seemed to push everyone together. With the toys on the counter, Connie was looking out the window; she saw Teal walking to the car which was parked in the lot across from the shops.

"That will be $103.60, cash or credit?"

"What? Ooops, sorry I was not paying attention. Wait, that's not mine," pointing to a jump rope.

"Must have been left by someone else, sorry, I'll take it off."

"Mistakes happen." Connie paid for the toys and left the store for the car. 'Odd,' she thought to herself, I don't remember the jump rope being on the counter when I put the toys down, or in the hands of the people ahead of me. Even though it was small, the red handle would be hard to miss.'

Teal was sitting in the front seat reading a magazine. As she got in Connie said she was sorry about the delay, "Had to wait in line forever."

"Where next? Coffee?" Teal started the car, "How about that place near the motel? Tamplation has really changed Connie. I have few memories, but I am sure there were no gourmet coffee houses here when I was a child." Teal put the car in reverse.

"Probably not a chain store selling $135 toy robots either."

"Damn."

"What?"

"I need to get used to driving large cars again." The four-door rental was a lot larger than her compact back home and Teal had cut the turn too tight, so she would have to pull back into the space to try again.

Connie said she bet when Teal lived here people's purchases did not get mixed up.

"How so?" Teal put the car in drive.

"Someone's jump rope was rung up with my items." The car started to ease forward. "The rope was not even in good condition, somebody had taken off one of the red handles."

The car shot forward and slammed into the concrete base of the light pole the stood between them and the facing parking slot. Teal was thrown forward and the horn blared from the weight of her body on the steering column. Connie, thankfully, had just snapped her seatbelt and was saved from hitting the dashboard. Either way, the two women were bounced around and it took a few moments for them to regain their composure.

Teal leaned back and the horn stopped its racket. Teal looked as white as a ghost.

Connie was scared, "Are you OK?"

Teal did not respond, she just looked out the windshield as if waiting for something.

"Teal, are you OK?" Connie shaken, made no attempt to mask her concern. She looked at Teal's eyes. They were fixed on a point across the parking lot where the building was blocking the sun. The spot she seemed to focus on was in the shadows. What was Teal looking at? "TEAL!"

Finally Teal responded and turned her head to look at Connie, "Shit. Oh shit!"

To ease the situation Connie pointed out at least the air bags had not deployed. Teal forced a smile. Connie could not think of what to do about Teal and there was a crowd gathering. So she got out and walked to the front of the car to survey the damage. Through the open passenger side door Connie told Teal that the damage was "little more than a small dent and some scrapes on the bumper." Of course there was also a big bruise to Teal's pride. The onlookers decided to move on. Connie got back in the car. Teal looked scared. "Are you OK Teal?"

"I'm...I'm OK. Sorry Connie, it..."

"What?"

"Will you call Ted, I don't think my hands will stop shaking enough for me to."

Connie called Ted on her cell phone and thought about the lousy trip this has turned out to be between Ted chasing dead people, strange estate planning sessions, and now this. Damn! When Ted answered she said, "Ted, we're OK, but we need you here as soon as possible."

"WHY?"

"Just a fender bender with a slab of concrete, but Teal needs you pronto."

"Where are you?"

"In the parking lot across from the...wait...Deer Creek Florist and the toy store. The shopping center." Ted was smart enough to stop asking questions and drive away from Bigford's as fast as he could.

When Ted arrived, Connie still did not have an explanation for Teal's actions. "She was fine and then she suddenly mashed the gas and we hit the base of the light poll. She seems OK, but wants to talk to you."

Ted walked around to Teal's door, opened it, and knelt down, "Mom?"

"I'm OK, really, I just had a scare. I'm OK...but we need to talk!"

Teal asked Connie if she would mind if Ted and she talked alone for a few minutes. What was Connie to say, but "Sure, I'll go over there and get you some coffee."

Ted stood up and gave her a kiss, "You're great."

"I know," as she walked away.

Ted closed Teal's door and walked around the car and got in. In a light, easy voice, "So, what's up Mom?"

"There are things going on here that you have not told me about!" Ted was hit solid with her matter-of-fact pronouncement.

"Mom, there have been some odd events, aside from Mr. Donaldson's story."

"Like what Ted!"

And Ted told her of his two 'dead end' meetings. The Internet researcher who led him to Angie, and of Angie's 'like fucking real life,' don't go near the place description of Simplicity Lane. Of the stranger in the library that scared the crap out of him and recommended he talk to a guy Bobbie just happened to have killed in 2001; of Bobbie's warning about someone manipulating him. About the third, fourth, and now fifth death at the house. The call from Millie...

"AND... go on!"

"Mr. Donaldson said he knew I was in town for university work, the owner told him, and where I was staying. That's why he expected me to be there so quickly."

"What the hell, did you think, was going on TED! Why did you stay here...why did you hide this from me?"

"Mom..."

"Don't, 'mom' me, Ted. You're educated. Can't you see something is wrong here? Just the call from Millie should have set the alarm bells ringing." Ted kept his mouth shut, Teal was right.

She put her hand against his cheek, "Ted," in a softer voice, "what happened a while ago...Ted whoever is directing this absurd drama just brought Connie into it."

"WHAT!"

"Now you react. Calm down. She only had a bit part."

"But..." Teal placed her hand against his lips. She told him about Connie finding the jump rope mixed in with her items. Not just any jump rope; one with a removed red handle. Ted did not get it. Teal took his hand in hers, "Danny hung himself with a jump rope. An old one; a red handled one he found in the attic. In his decreased mental state he could not get both the handles off. The rope stayed lose so the knot would not slip." Teal's voice echoed her stress, her tears of losing Danny.

Ted was not about to ask Teal if she was mistaken and maybe it was a coincidence. Maybe he would have weeks ago before she slipped into the pool so scared. He recognized the same sort of far off look on her face, yet there was something different this time. He could not put his finger on it. "Mom, we need to go to the police."

"I'm not sure the police can do anything. I'm sure it was just a cruel small town prank. Local sick humor."

"You're the one just a few seconds ago who admonished me for not leaving..."

"It was a sick joke. Mean, yes; however I am sure whoever did it was not aware how sick it was. And what can the police do?"

Not buying Teal's reasoning, but knowing when to let it go, "Who knew about the jump rope?"

"My aunt and uncle, the police that investigated, and the doctors. Why?"

"That was Atlanta. Someone here must also know."

Teal is looking at something, or was, and that something is now physically gone, if it was physical, nevertheless still she is looking. "Mom, why are you looking across the street? Mom, you have been talking to me about something that is so serious for you, yet you seem to be distracted by something or someone across the street."

Teal patted his hand with her free one, "Just trying to get my eyes to refocus, that's all." Ted did not believe her, nonetheless kept it to himself. Teal said it was time to get out of the car and find Connie. "I'll tell her about Danny, it's about time that secret is let out. I'll tell her the rope was placed there for me." She kissed Ted and got out of the car.

Ted watched through the passenger-side window as Teal walked across the street to where Connie was sitting.

— **////—**

### Chapter Fourteen

July 14, 2005

"Nice, my soon to be daughter-in-law has consumed my coffee." Teal looped her arm through Connie's.

"It was getting cold."

"Let's take a walk, and I will tell you about Tamplation." Connie looked towards the car. "Don't worry about Ted. He's in the dog house for holding back on me about the seriousness of the events you two have encountered. We'll let him stew for a while and then he can make amends by buying us steaks for dinner."

Connie could not contemplate staying another second in a hundred mile radius. She could understand Ted's quest for knowledge, but how the hell could Teal think of food?

Teal knew that Ted would be alright and he would use the time while she and Connie talked to put all of the facts in some logical order. So she walked with Connie and told her about Danny and how the jump rope was a shock. There was no point in keeping Danny a secret now.

Ted sat in the car thinking. He was upset, really upset that someone would use Connie, used Millie, and his mom. He was upset that someone had made a fool out of him. The fact Teal had not demanded they leave here, or go to the police, was not lost on him. The one thing he was certain about was they were not alone in this theatre of the absurd.

The thoughts started to gel. Ted started to see some hint of logical connections. He used his cell phone to call Bobbie.

"Hello."

"Bobbie this is Ted Dantary."

"You should not be calling me Ted," her voice was pleasant but firm.

"Someone just played a very cruel stunt on the two most important women in my life...I need your assistance." He avoided using the word help.

"Why me?"

"Because you lied to me."

"Ted, I did not lie to you."

"Bobbie you're not a prostitute for one thing."

"OK, but that was for your own good. Now you know, so let's say goodbye."

"Please Bobbie, you're involved somehow...otherwise Mr. Detsmit would not have sent me to you. And, obviously he has your phone number."

"Ted, the fact someone, somehow managed to get my phone number is..."

"What?"

"Alright Ted, what do you want from me?"

"Just ask around; I need to know who this Detsmit is."

Bobbie had a really bad feeling about this. She had the same – less intense, nevertheless the same – bad feeling when she answered the phone the first time Ted called her.

Never one to run from fear, that's why she had agreed to meet Ted the first time. However she played it safe and met him at the rental property. The prostitute story was all she could think of to get this nice young man to put his mind on something other than her. She had not lied about the degrees, she was very well educated. The sex advice was pure professional courtesy. Ted being a psychologist, who was having a problem with the soft instep of her foot and her long tanned legs, and Bobbie being a medical doctor. It was the way he looked at her, eyes becoming so dreamlike as he watched her foot slip in and out of the shoe. Bobbie had not planned on this, and at first was not even conscious of what was going on; then his concentration was totally absorbed by her foot movement. 'Did I ever get that ruse wrong!'

"Alright, I'll ask around. I'll call you back at this number, OK?"

"Yes, how...?"

"Caller ID Ted. I'll call you either way. Alright?"

"Thanks!" Ted closed the cell and once again chastised himself for letting Bobbie grab his desire. What was it about her? He knew; it was not just the visual that captivated his sex drive, it was chemical. Bobbie sent out a chemical wave that over-road his defenses. That's when the light finally turned on in Ted's head. Here he was thinking sex just listening to her voice. Ted put the mystery of Tamplation aside. He was looking down at his cell phone cradled in his lap. He tried to stop all thoughts, and when satisfied he had his own full attention he said to himself, "Grow up, you are not seventeen. So she sends out a chemical that attracts you. Connie is your world. There is no room for Bobbie or any other woman." Ted lifted his head, looked out the window, shook his head from side to side, and laughed at his immaturity.

It was 3:35 PM when the three returned to the motel.

Teal alone in her room, sat in a chair at the desk and idly flipped the pages of a magazine. She had been shaken up – figuratively and literally – by the jump rope incident; it was Connie's unexpected pronouncement, more than the act itself that caused her to smash the gas pedal. Someone in Tamplation had a very sick sense of humor. The question in her mind was why. She thought 'obviously someone was sending a blatant message, why – 'lots of whys here Teal' – was there a connection between Ted's misdirected meetings and the jump rope?' She just plain did not believe the two were connected; yet they could be. The jump rope was definitely 'get out,' while the strange meetings could have been 'there is nothing here for you to discover.'

Regardless, Teal could not help but consider that one or more persons in town were being vindictive towards her family. Could someone be upset that the Stedman participated in the 'death' of Tamplation, and now her son was in town looking for – at least in their minds – someone, something to hang the blame on? Even Teal recognized that was a stretch. She made her phone call.

While Teal talked on the phone, the person responsible for the jump rope incident was sitting in his car asking himself a different set of questions. He had been watching when Teal hit the gas pedal, and was just as surprised as Connie was. He could only guess Teal saw the rope when the younger woman got into the car. The plan was for Teal to see the rope once they returned to the motel. Then her son showed up. Fantastic! The three would now speed back to the motel, grab their crap, and get the hell out of Dodge. BUT no, the queen bitch goes off to have coffee with the other bitch. From his overlook he saw Ted use a cell phone. Who did he call? Next thing he sees is the three people leave like nothing was wrong.

He chided himself for being so stupid. The rope idea seemed plausible when he had quickly conceived it; yet it ended lame; a childish prank. So what was he to do? This Ted guy comes to town and talks to Angie about Old Ned. No, this Ted comes to my home to nose around and someone sends him to the diner to meet with Ned. 'Big difference!' 'Thankfully at least Angie told me about the kid's visit.' The question of why Ted went out to Simplicity Lane also begged to be answered. He was unaware of Ted's meeting with Everett Donaldson. He just knew the day's events signaled that the Stedman were not going to leave town gracefully on their own volition. A different tack was required.

At the motel Ted closed his eyes. Connie was sitting on his lap, resting her head on his shoulder, "I wish I could believe that rapid heartbeat was because I'm sitting on your lap."

Ted tightened his arm around her waist, "She wants to stay...I need to stay with her." Connie was about to respond, however Ted knew her thoughts, "I can't ask you to stay Connie. I want you to, I need you to..."

She cut him off. "It's settled, my lover boy, we're a team now!"

Ted squeezed her, "What now?"

"I'm taking a shower. You...you're on your own for a while."

If Ted had an explanation beyond being there for Teal and getting rid of the property he had not shared it with Connie. She now sat on the edge of the bathtub staring at the back of the bathroom door. Sometime between rinsing the soap off her left leg and hanging the damp washcloth on the towel rack she stopped pretending nothing was wrong. Sure she had voiced her concern, then, accepting Ted's evading of the truth excuse she had smiled. Now, sitting on the edge of the tub shaking; knowing inside that something was desperately wrong in Tamplation. Something deeper had caused Teal to crash the rental into a light pole; deeper than Ted having accepted his meetings with dead people; this Angie; this Bobbie; this Detsmit; Teal's phone call; "This whole fucking trip into hell!" Thankfully she said that into her hands, elbows on knees, eyes closed. An 'ah shit!' realization.

Nothing seemed to make sense, and Connie was personally scared. There were too many unanswered questions and she knew it started before they had even stepped into the car for the drive to Tamplation. She had her doubts about the trip the moment Ted told her about Teal's 'drop into the family swimming pool reaction,' the... Connie spoke into her hands again, "damn it, just fucking screw it!"

Connie got up and walked naked into the bedroom area of their motel room, grabbed a startled Ted, and screwed doubt from her mind.

A little after five Connie looked at the clock. Ted had fallen asleep, 'typical man, have sex – take nap.' Connie was returning from the bathroom when Ted awoke. The sun light coming through the window was parallel with Ted's eyes, and when he opened them, the flash of light made him quickly close them again and shake his head. She jumped on the bed, legs straddling his midsection, "What! You realize you're with a strange woman, or the sight of my naked body blinded you with lust?" It was six before they called Teal's room.

Teal's idea was food; least they starve before the mystery was solved, 'or died trying,' thought Connie.

Bobbie phoned Ted as the three were heading for dinner. Bobbie suggested they get the meeting over with as soon as possible, and asked if Ted could meet with her at her office at the hospital around 1 PM the next day.

For Bobbie making the call to Ted was a question of necessity; hers. Bobbie felt the reality of being involved was deemed long before this Ted fellow called the first time. 'The preverbal road less taken was getting crowded by someone lurking in the shadows.' Bobbie may not have seen the face of evil in the shadows that edged her daily life, but the evil was there, waiting. Bobbie respected omens and felt the latest call from Ted was a sign that could not be turned away from. Ted and evil would be met head-on. Bobbie would survive; she was a survivor.

When Bobbie was twelve, her mother became seriously ill. She stayed in the hospital for two weeks and then spent three more weeks at an aunt's recuperating. The experience helped shape Bobbie's adult life. As a youngster Bobbie tried to hide the reality of the trauma behind her bedroom closet door. The act was self-defeating. Bobbie believed everything good was in her room; the furniture, the toys, the doll lamp on the dresser, the painting she had made in second grade. Bobbie believed over time all the goodness in her life, too include her family, was in the room. It was the closet that held the bad.

Sure, her clothes were in the closet and they were...well they could be good or bad. The pink dress was bad, the white dress good. Mom had bought the white one for church only a few months ago. Aunt Lilly had bought the pink one for her eighth birthday and four years later it was still there because Bobbie had it hidden in the back of the closet. Oh, the dress was pretty; it was the way Uncle Mark, who liked to stare at her, started to make 'nice' comments about the dress, to touch it to feel the softness, his wondering hands...it was a bad dress, and four years of memories of avoiding Uncle Mark had reinforced its inherent evil.

Other bad memories were hidden within, their visual identities sequestered in the closet. The doll she accidentally broke the arm off of, an admonishing note from her teacher. Maybe the doll was not as bad as the pink dress; the closet's repository of 'thoughts' grew as Bobbie got older. To a little girl the closet seemed the perfect place to hide the physical objects, least her parents find out she had written with crayon on one of their wedding pictures. And as the physical proved safe, slowly Bobbie added mental images to the clutch within the closet to as well; Uncle Mark's breathless suggestion was the worst.

And so it was when Bobbie's mom took sick, the image of her mom in the hospital bed was banished to the closet. But that was not the way Bobbie wanted it. At twelve years of age, Bobbie, in the most simplistic way, realized that while you could try not to think about something to deflect the pain, reality was a heart that still ached for her mom; the house still echoed loneliness. Bobbie started to reason out what was going on. She understood that her mom was sick and there was no way to hide the illness in the closet so her mom would come home. It was the night her dad said "Mom will be back next week, so let's clean up real good," that Bobbie really started to believe the closet was not the answer. As she grew older Bobbie became more aware of the difference between the physical and the mental, of the real world and daydreaming, and of the difference between her wrongs and the wrongs of others. She eventually learned you cannot hide yourself in a closet.

On a cool autumn night, a twelve-year-old Bobbie started to move away from the thoughts of a closet door shielding her from evil. The journey was slow and not a perfect one. Regardless of her growing maturity and knowledge, Bobbie still believed a trace of evil would always lurk in the closet and no amount of education or maturity would ever erase the 'burnt into your mind' knowledge that evil had once lived in that closet. This she kept to herself; evil lived in the dark.

By seventeen Bobbie was far too smart to overlook the fact that evil dwells in the shadows of life. Bobbie was smart – don't walk alone along dimly lit streets – smart enough to know that darkness was an omen; the unsettling sky before a storm. Thus, the darkness in Morgan's eyes told her to leave the shotgun behind the door.

The evening sky darkened outside the window of the restaurant as the three ate, or at least they went through the motions of feigning eating for the benefit of each other. Ted had played Mr. On-Guard, watching every shadow. His impersonation of a Mafia bodyguard as he searched the restaurant parking lot before allowing the women out of the car brought some levity to the somber evening. Connie hugged close to Ted, but Teal seemed to be too relaxed for the moment. Connie sensed something, she felt Teal was more confident in their safety than was reasonable. 'Odd,' she thought, 'Even with today's events, ever since the phone call she made yesterday from the lobby pay phone Teal has been...less tense?' Ted did not seem to notice the change in Teal.

"Hay, Mafia guy," Teal called across the table, breaking Connie's train of thought. "Mafia guy, youse about to toss us dem rolls?" Connie laughed; Ted felt the rib was neither funny nor appropriate, considering the unknown – but real – danger they were dealing with.

"Mom, please drop the Mr. Mafia stuff. I get the point."

"Okay, but when we go to the car I expect you to check under the seats for explosives."

Ted shook his head, "Here, dem rolls Ma, do you want me to break them apart in case someone has placed a....a..."

Connie interrupted, "Don't you love it when Ted gets lost for words?"

"Now you?"

"Yes." Connie and Teal high-fived across the table. Connie figured that even if she could not guess why Teal was upbeat, there was no reason not to add to it.

Outside the sky grew darker, and in the darkness befallen he drove past the restaurant on his way to Fair Oaks. Darkness shadowed his body and the twilight descending on the village laid bare to his eyes the hidden venues of the townspeople. Charenton drove slowly down the street, eyes keen. He watched citizens scurrying home – or wherever – to their hidden agendas. Charenton took advantage of the human need to be secretive. Sometimes he would play on the secret itself; other times he would use man's innate desire to preserve silence as leverage. He looked at the newspaper that sat folded next to him on the seat. Charenton had to pick it up to read the address from the caption under the photograph. 'I'm getting old,' he thought; he hated to wear glasses while working. He pulled the car, a rental charged to a false identity, to a stop.

The store still looked as it had twenty years before in the newspaper photograph. He looked around, got out of the car and walked briskly to the entrance. At the door he paused for a second before entering. The place was empty, Charenton expected as much. Walking to the counter on hushed shoes, he waited.

When the old man finally came out of the back room, and even before looking directly at the customer he started to offer a jovial hello, then stopped, frozen in mid-stride. Charenton smiled, holding the old man's eyes in his vice-like stare. Charenton spoke, "Still chasing dead cops", and reached out with his left hand and tapped on the counter; tap, tap, tap. The old man would have been stilled by the voice alone, but the gun in Charenton's other hand was visual. Like a cat with a mouse, Charenton took his time, played with his prey; tap, tap, tap. Just before the smell of the man's defecation reached Charenton, he shot Wendell Tiggs dead. 'One less clue to the secrets of Tamplation,' he thought as he left the store. Back in the car Charenton once again told himself he was getting old; 'Should never have brought the fucking newspaper!'

He was getting old. It was May 4, 1960 when the three professors had sat behind the long table, eyes fixed on the doctoral student who sat in a chair across from them precisely three feet, six and a half inches out from the center front of the table. They sat and listened to his oration; his dismal presentation, his lack-luster display, his non-creativity. At least this was their impression. Besides he was way too young. In truth, the student was creative, mesmerizing, and worthy of their attention. Nonetheless, educational protocols separated the three 'human beings' from this low life, paper-holder-want-a-be. The student read their body language. He heard their words, spoken and silent. He despised them. He played with them, not for them. They misread him, underestimated him, and wrote him off too soon. And so he changed the dissertation discussion topic on them.

"The symptoms attributed to the fear of dying have been described as breathlessness, dryness of mouth, heart palpitations, a disruption of one's cognitive and rationalization abilities, excessive perspiration, nausea, and the sensation of detachment from reality. Not dissimilar, the same symptoms are attributed to thanatophobia, the fear of death, and nyctophobia, fear of the dark. While psychologists may tell us nyctophobia is a pathological fear – an abnormal and persistent anguish – of something that poses no tangible danger, one must conclude that children are wiser than adults because they subconsciously see the logical progression from approaching darkness, through dying, to death. Adults suppress this knowledge, but it still wears within." He stopped speaking and relaxed his posture. They mentally, then outwardly questioned the change; the abrupt halt to his presentation.

Which one of the three would speak first? Each unsure as to what to do. Obviously the student had somehow wrested control from them.

Tap, tap, tap...with the nail of his index finger on the side of the chair, the student – shifting another 90 degrees from the subject at hand – spoke, "People begin to see that something more goes to the composition of a fine murder than two blockheads killing each other."

"What?" It was the youngest of the three professors who spoke, did he hear correctly, "What murders?"

In acknowledgement that the three professors were now the lesser, "Mr. Williams has exalted the ideal of murder to all of us."

The professors were at a loss for words; they were totally lost as to the student's sudden pronouncements.

"I just cited Thomas De Quincy, _On Murder Considered as One of the Fine Arts_ , 1823. De Quincy contends that, like all subjects, murder has two facets; moral and the acceptable aesthetical value. I agree with his 1854 analysis, _Postscript_ , whereby after the first condolences to the victims, people become desensitized and the aesthetics – what De Quincy calls comparative advantage of one murder to another – lead to the reviewing of murders and placing values on the components. Thus, one murder is compared with another, and the perpetrators are in turn rated."

This time it was the elder professor, "You're saying that murder is acceptable if taken in the context of....of just another aspect of society?"

"You three are no better off than Justine." The student got up from his seat and walked out the door without looking back...university was such a waste.

Had he been a psychopath per society's recognizable description, he would have killed the youngest of the three; allowing the other two to live in fear. But Donatien Alphonse Francois – as he called himself at the time – simply left a note written in, admittedly poor, French pinned to the pillow under the head of the young one's sleeping daughter:

Ils ne limitent pas absolument se confinent aux vierges, une fille qui n'a jamais été séduite, ou une femme mariée peut s'avérer tout aussi satisfaisante, mais un enlèvement forcé doit survenir, le viol doit être impliqué et il doit être irrévocablement vérifié; cette circonstance les excite.

He had always liked that particular passage from one of the stories his own father would read to him at bed time. When the girl's father read the note he instantly knew it was not from his wife:

They do not restrict absolutely shut themselves up to the virgins, a girl who was never enticed, or a married woman can prove to be also satisfactory, but a forced abduction must happen, rape must be involved and he must irrevocably be proved; this circumstance excites them.

The recurring dreams of Donatien's childhood were despondent memories, and so Donatien, nee Bill, Steve, George, Fred, Sam, whoever, became a prolific nomad. His tossing and turning would play havoc on the coil springs of a succession of aged boarding house beds as he traversed the country in search of his destiny. He would one day be feared by Ricky, by others. But on his journey to greatness he had to first awake in the middle of the night, cold sweat beading on his forehead, damp underarms, and boxers that clung to his balls like a second skin. For all of the bravado – the cold, icy eyes and heart – Donatien was really no different from his victims. Living in the dark recesses, the shadows of the real world, he hid from the demons that possessed his soul. Thus he took on the final name, Charenton, which spoke of the prison his soul was banished to.

Ted, Connie, and Teal finished their meals and returned to the motel. All three would be asleep by the time Charenton had cleaned the gun, destroyed the newspaper, and left the rental by the highway, keys in the ignition, to be driven off by the four teens who found it as they walked home from a party. It mattered not; the car was stripped clean of anything that could have connected it to Charenton. As the three slept, Charenton got laid and thought about what Wendell had told him on the phone, "Some kid's in town asking about Simplicity Lane, you want the full scoop, it'll cost yah."

"Some kid?"

"Actually two people."

"And?"

"Hey bucko, I've kept my eyes open for a long time. You want the info, you pay!"

Charenton lead him along, "Okay, anyone you know?"

"No. I spotted him at the library. Kid spoke to the part-time library lady. Hard to forget his face; you can pick him out of a line up with those teal eyes."

"Good, you'll get paid."

Charenton arrived in Tamplation and Wendell was paid; then unexpectedly, teal eyes had begot teal eyes. 'Life can be interesting' he thought to himself as he pulled his pants back on and paid the lady.

When the Ted and the ladies arrived back at the motel they decided to take the long way around the building; past the front entrance, and through the pool area, to the rear entrance.

As they walked from the car, a beer can rolled out from under a parked car and crossed their path. Empty, the rolling can made a hollow metallic echo. Ted's eyes followed the can's progress. The can stopped upon hitting a crumpled white paper bag; discarded like the can. Ted had a high propensity to observe; to relate obscure occurrences to much broader implications; no different from a police detective associating a folded newspaper, the remainder of a cigarette, the out of place sponge in the spotless kitchen. Ted's mind moved with his eyes in a methodical, logical association game. To the uninformed, the fact Ted paid attention to the rolling can, his actions would be chalked up to ADS. No, Ted saw something with his subconscious and he was puzzled, trying to grasp why this random event had triggered his thought process.

The wind was too weak to move the can past it's crumpled paper impediment. As he half listened to Connie and Teal's conversation, Ted was trying to reason out an anomaly with the can. Not the rolling, but the large and small hole in the top of the can. Someone had used a church key to open the can, not the pull tab. Why? Giving up, if only for the minute, Ted turned his attention back to Connie and Teal. Ted had no way of knowing the person who opened the can had accidentally cut off the tip of his index finger, and a church key now perpetually hung from his key ring.

They walked into the common patio area; the grassy area near the concrete patio was wet from the automatic sprinkler system. Sprinkler water...it was trickling down the side of a can on a table, pooling around the base. Ted noticed the can was the same brand of beer he had seen in the motel parking lot. On impulse Ted walked closer. Someone had used a church key. The can was still shiny. Would it rust, he thought. No, aluminum doesn't rust. So how do you judge how long it has it sat on the table? How long ago was it abandoned to the elements? If the can had been emptied before abandonment maybe the volume of water inside? Weight of an empty can compared with this one? Ted realized he had placed his hand on the table, which meant he was now standing within the path of the arching cascade of water. He jumped out of the way.

Behind him Connie laughed and Teal just shrugged, "He's your daydreamer now." Connie put her arm around Teal, gave a little hug.

"Either I laugh or I cry, so I may as well laugh. "So Teddy," Connie moved next to him, "what perplexing problem are you perplexing brain cells about?"

"Weight of beer cans."

"Beer can weight?"

"How long do you think that can has been sitting on the table?"

"Three days, seven hours, and give or take...eleven minutes."

Teal laughed this time, "Go girl, amuse him."

"Mom!"

"Sorry," laughing as she walked towards the motel entrance.

"Connie, seriously, how long?"

"No more than," looking at her watch, "five hours."

"You being serious?"

"Yes, Ted." She was enjoying the stunned look. Then, feeling sorry for him and wanting to get on with this unwanted sidetrack and head for the main event, "It was not on the table when we were...when we hit the sliding glass door."

"You...you looked out the window? You..."

"TED, I was facing the window remember, my face was pressed up against it....Yes Ted, for a split second, just for a split second, my eyes opened."

"But you remember!"

"This time Ted, only this once, only because you were saying 'wait I forgot the kitten mitten.'"

"The what...I do not refer to a rubber as a 'kitten mitten."

"Oh, please forgive me darling...that must have been someone else."

"I would retort with 'in your dreams,' but I know I am the only man in your dreams...kitten mitten. I just thought you were too deeply immersed in what we were doing to notice if trash was strewn around."

"Oh, you weren't aware I used to count the beer cans on the sorority house floor."

"Please don't talk that way around Teal or Dad..."

"Ted, give me some smarts...besides, I am sure he would like to hear about the night I lost my..."

"Enough..."

"TED, it was an awkward position, and as I said, it was you who broke contact, not me! You don't need to blush...should you right now you'll get extra points."

"You win...seriously, did you really look at the table?"

"Yes, and the can was not there."

Ted, in a split second, went from looking at her to staring at the can; from sexual retorts to frozen in time. "Ted, what?"

He looked around and without speaking took her arm and they walked quickly to the entrance.

Once inside their room Ted checked the bathroom and the closet, while Connie waited by the door. A short while later Connie walked out of the bathroom to find Ted making a phone call. Holding up a finger to his lips, Ted mouthed 'my mom.' When Teal answered he asked if everything was Ok.

"Yes, why?"

"Just being a caring, loving son."

"Thanks, say goodnight to Connie for me."

"Will do, night Mom."

Connie waited until he hung up, "What is going on!"

"Lower, not so loud."

"Ted," in an almost silent whisper, "what is going on?"

"Not that low." He sat in the easy chair, pulling her into his lap. "The beer can is the same type that rolled into the parking lot."

"So?"

"Someone was watching this room."

"Ted, someone could have tossed the first can in the parking lot and maybe the person, or whoever was with him, junked the can on the table as they walked by."

"No, don't think so."

"Why Mr. Detective?"

"The can on the table is almost in the middle, near the hole for an umbrella. Someone would have to lean over as they walked past. No. Who would take that extra step, or care whether or not the can stayed on the table, if they had already tossed one in the parking lot. Becoming eco-friendly all of a sudden?"

Connie knew he was probably right. A thought crossed her mind, then she was not sure if she wanted to tell him; scared. "Ted...the can in the parking lot was not tossed haphazardly."

"Why?"

"It came rolling out from under the car across from ours. I don't think someone left it on the curb when they got up to leave."

"Why..."

"The parking lot is not level Ted, it slopes away from the motel." Reading his thoughts, "They slant it away so the rain runoff is directed away from the motel, and the can would have started rolling as soon as it hit the pavement."

"What if a rock or something kept it from rolling?"

"Possibly."

"But not in Tamplation...right?"

"Ted are you trying to scare me; cause I already got scared when I thought someone was watching the room, now it's someone in the parking lot!" Ted drew her close.

At the small writing desk Teal looked at her prose: Mist of morning fog/rolling slowly/between sky and ground/between lines of trees/Route Three drive/early Wednesday morning. Teal reread her words. She liked it, and crumbled the piece of paper and tossed it at her open bag sitting on the chair next to the bed.

— **////—**

### Chapter Fifteen

July 15, 2005

_You can sense someone is within your defined space; your defined space is being used. You sense whoever is using him is now using you; part star alignment, more, your ignorant role in the continuum of the transition from darkness to death_ _._

Teal wanted to stay around the motel after they had finished eating breakfast; she needed to call Tom. This was perfect for Ted, as he and Connie had a mission to accomplish before Ted met with Bobbie.

A short while later when Ted parked the car, he seemed to suddenly become engrossed in thought. Connie nudged him, "We getting out, or have you developed teleport powers?" It was the taillights. Ted had noticed the taillights when the driver of an old Dodge pickup touched the break while pulling up to the curb. Connie almost misread Ted's concentration, "Whatever you're thinking about will work itself loose, don't force it."

"You're becoming so perceptive of me."

"I've learned." She grinned, "When we first met, I saw how you blushed, turned red thinking to yourself 'how can I sit here in church with such vivid ideas about doing this gorgeous woman sitting next to me."

"CONNIE, I hate to bust your bubble, but I was thinking no such thoughts, I was thinking about asking...what's her name out."

"Sure."

"Granted, you were a pretty little girl, but you were a LITTLE girl. I seriously doubt you would be sitting next to me now if I had those thoughts about you back then."

"You did; future tense-subconsciously. It just took you a while to recognize them!"

"Are you totally absurd, or am I dreaming? Is 'future tense-subconsciously' like ESP?"

"You eventually worked out the future tense-subconscious thoughts that you loved me that day, just as I had already recognized that I loved you. We're talking feelings Ted, not actions." She let that sink in, "Now learn from your mistakes and relax on this current thought entanglement!"

"You are absurd; but with great legs."

They were still laughing when they reached the sidewalk. Ted loved to hear Connie laugh. He loved to watch her face light up in a smile; to see her eyes sparkle. Connie knew this; she also knew how vulnerable Ted was because of his blind love for her. That knowledge scared her. Connie's saving grace was in knowing how unrelenting her love was for him.

When the old Dodge pickup pulled away from the curb Ted stopped and stared at the taillights, they were more pink than red. Somewhere in the back recesses of his mind Ted was diving to retrieve...what? What was it about the taillights? Connie had been standing patiently beside him. Finally reaching out and grabbing his belt, fingers slipping between the belt and Ted's pants, she gave it a tug. He shook his head to clear away the tail lights thought and returned his wondering mind to the more important question of who was maneuvering his family. Ted looked at her and smiled, tossing his empty coffee cup into a conveniently located trash receptacle. They were heading for the toy store a few hundred feet away. Even with the vehicular and foot traffic Ted could hear a bird chirping off to the side; nestled in a tree beside the gourmet food store.

The automatic doors of the toy store slid apart for them and Connie instinctively looped her arm through Ted's as they entered side-by-side. She could feel the tenseness in his body even though Ted tried to hide it. Just the way he had tossed the cup into the trash, forced and hesitated; in no way a normal, fluid movement.

They went directly to the checkout counters and Ted asked one of the cashiers where the jump ropes were. Connie had wanted to ask one of the floor personnel, but Ted said no, it was better this way. To her raised eyebrow, "We'll walk backwards...no, not latterly...geeeeeze. You'll get it." They went to where the jump ropes were hanging on a pegboard hook. There were only a few, maybe six, one type; each coiled and tied with two wire twist-ties, one at each end. Attached to one of the handles was a string price tag. Ted and Connie were facing the display; sixteen feet of pegboard display rack divided into sections of shelving and open areas for pegboard hooks. Behind them, was another sixteen-foot section. There were probably twenty rows total, each separated by a five-foot wide aisle. Ted and Connie were standing about five feet down the aisle. She gave his hip a bump, "OK, what am I supposed to be looking at?"

"Look around."

"I'm looking?"

"What do you see?"

"Toys."

"Right, toys. What else?"

"You being funny? All I can see is more toys...oh, I can't see anything but toys."

"Give the lady a cigar."

"Cash, don't smoke, so give me cash. So if I cannot see anything but toys, the person who left the jump rope on the counter would not be able to see me or the cash register from here."

"Yep."

"You think you're smart, don't you," another hip bump. Ted took a jump rope off the rack, "Whoever did the rope trick at the counter must have known where the jump ropes were hanging and where you were."

"Or grabbed one and waited for me at the checkout area."

"Probably waited for you. OK," stepping back from her, "now what do you see?"

"You have a hard-on."

"CONNIE, be serious, and keep your voice down."

"Ted, sweetie, lighten up." In a lower voice, "It's not un-natural if you have one, I could see you looking down my blouse."

"Connie...what do you see?"

"I see a limp rope in your hand and a hard..."

"Damn it Connie, stop looking at my pants and concentrate on the problem at hand."

"Not here Ted."

"Not here what?"

"I'm not taking your problem in..." He broke off the comment and stared at her, "Is there something going on I am not aware of? Why the apparent lack of seriousness in this degrading conversation?"

"You broke the pegboard."

"I what?" He looked at the display and saw the rest of the jump ropes laying on the bottom shelf of the display; Ted had actually broke the pegboard when he yanked the rope off the hook. Connie ran her hand across his cheek, "Now, what do you want me to see?"

Serious again, "The rope."

"Describe it."

"It's like a limp...limpiness."

"Whoever took the rope had to walk to the counter, and I doubt the person hid the rope."

"Shit!"

Ted gave her time to think it out.

"Ted, he was waiting at the counter for me. I saw him!"

"Him?"

"Yes, it was a man, I'm almost positive it was a man. I saw the rope when he passed by the aisle I was in. I mean at the time I did not see it was a rope, but it was this limpiness," pointing to the rope in Ted's hand, "I only remember his arm. He had on a white short-sleeve shirt. I noticed the shirt because it stood out in contrast to the colorful toys."

"Great! What else?"

"He was wearing a watch, an inexpensive one. The watch was kind of green. Not the watch itself, the band."

"Cheap one?"

"Yeah, like the kind you buy in a discount store...a 'take to the field watch,' a water resistant one like our dads wear."

"You recall all this?"

"Yep," proud of herself.

"Good, let's go to the place you were standing when you saw him pass by." Connie hesitated. "What? You forget?"

"Well, there goes your Christmas surprise."

They walked to an aisle three over; remote control toys. "Close your eyes. Don't look at the shelves"

"Connie, be real." Then, pointing to the mega-boat, "I want that one."

"Too bad, I already bought you socks," poking him in the side.

"Ouch. That poke was worth a mega-boat."

Connie smacked his arm, hard, "That hurt, right. And that was not even worth a MEGA-BOAT."

Rubbing his arm, "Great. OK, where were you standing?"

"Over there." They walked to the spot. Connie stood as she had when the man walked past.

"It was the mega-boat you were looking at."

"Ted, looking is not buying."

"I'll remember that. Where did you go next?"

"To the counter to pay." They walked to the counter.

"It was really busy. I don't remember seeing him, sorry."

"It's OK, I was starting to be concerned that you're a closet psychic. Where next?"

"The car."

Outside the two stood on the sidewalk. Connie said she had walked out of the store, saw Teal waiting in the car and simply crossed over to it. There was a row of head in parking spaces in front of the shops, so Ted and Connie, single file, walked between two cars. At the roadway Connie did an abrupt halt, Ted bumping into her. Looking back over her shoulder, "Not in the parking lot Ted, wait until we get in the car."

"Will you...why slam on the breaks?"

"I saw him again."

"Now!"

"No, I saw him again, yesterday. He was standing at the window."

"How did you see him?"

"The store window. The front of the store was reflected in the windshield of the car I walked past. He was standing, wait..." She thought about right and left reflections, turning back to face the store, "He was there at the far right. He was standing behind that display thing and," smugly, "he is probably left handed." Ted looked questionably. "The watch was on his right arm. I should have thought about that when I said he passed by the end of the aisle."

"Hey, you thought about it now and that's all that matters." Ted grabbed her around the waist and kissed her. He was thinking to himself, 'he knew where to stand to watch Teal in the parked car.'

Back in Ted's car Connie started to fiddle with her cell phone. "What'yah doin?"

"Looking for a phone number."

"Old boyfriend?"

"They call me. I never need to lower myself to call a guy. Actually Ted, I am looking to see if I have George Harris's number."

"OK, you have me completely at a loss. Why George?"

"He knows how to program my computer, I still have work to do while I am here playing detective with you."

"Work and sex, is that all you think about?"

"Ted, I do not..."

"What?" She was looking at the phone. "Connie, helloooooo."

"Hold on," Connie closed the phone and, as if weighing in her hand, "At breakfast, do you remember your cell phone ringing and no one was there?"

"Yeah, the call must have failed."

"Ted, who called?"

"I don't know, remember."

"Well look!"

"How?"

"Give me your phone." Connie sailed through the menu and, "presto!"

"Presto what?"

"The phone number, look."

"How did you...it's a local number!"

"Who's?"

"Don't know. Not the lawyer, not Bobbie's, I have no idea. You?"

"I say it's the person who left the jump rope."

"Why would he call."

"That question I have no answer to, but I bet it was him. Maybe he called, then changed his mind."

"Why would he call."

"I have no idea."

Ted started to hit redial, "Well let's find out who it is."

"NO!"

"Geeeze, I get the message; no pun intended."

"Let's look it up on the web first."

Ted started the car, "We make a good team; you know that?"

"Yes Teddy, now drive us back to the motel before Teal thinks we're dead or, even worse, we eloped." When Ted placed his foot on the brake he realized the tail lights on the pickup he had seen earlier were the same odd color as those on a truck near the motel.

Bobbie's office was in the hospital proper; a nice pleasant place. Ted waited on a sofa in the reception area until Bobbie finished with her one o'clock. She walked out, smiled, and led him back to her office. Ted looked into an exam room as they passed; he noticed a nurse doing the after visit clean-up. Bobbie was already at her office door when she noticed Ted lagging behind, "Curiosity killed the cat."

"Dead is not a good word in Tamplation."

Seated – Bobbie behind her desk, Ted in a chair facing her– they looked at each other as if this was a spaghetti western stand-off; who would speak first. Ted had instantly realized why Bobbie chose the desk/chair setting. "Ted, it's my turn to say sorry. I underestimated you, and I also meant what I said about you and your girlfriend...she's a lucky woman."

"And a scared one at this moment."

Bobbie left the small talk hanging, reached under her desk and brought out a large brown shipping-type envelope filled with papers and handed it to Ted. "I think this is what Mr. Detsmit is looking for."

Ted took the envelope, not looking directly at it, and asked, "Why?"

"The link is Ned Hawkins. The link between Angie and me, that is. It's Jes Morgan's notes Mr. Detsmit is no doubt looking for."

"Jes Morgan's notes?"

"Jes was researching something," she pointed to the envelope, "I don't know what... honestly. He got my name from Angie. Morgan had talked to Ned a lot, and when Ned died he kept hanging around asking Angie questions about 'stories' Ned may have told her. About 1996 Morgan disappeared for a while. He came back to town about 1999. Told Angie he had got married and divorced. Bull, pure bull. Not sure where he went, but marriage was definitely not an option." Bobbie looked at Ted and decided he was over the sex thing.

Bobbie moved to the other office guest chair, "By 1999, Angie and I were good friends. So, when Morgan returned and asked if she knew someone who could answer some medical questions, Angie gave Morgan my name and office phone number. That was late 2000. Look, to make a long story short, the psychopath called and I could not get rid of him. He wanted to know about attempted suicides and how people are treated. He wanted to know if someone who has a bad experience could recall the facts once the doctors had treated him, or her...whomever. I thought at first he was talking about himself. Then I realized he was not in danger of killing himself...possibly someone else...perhaps Angie (?). I don't rightly know. I tried to refer him for help and to distance myself from him...he would not take no for an answer.

One night he followed me home, and as I was unlocking the door he rushed at me...pushed me into the house. The fucking psycho ripped at my blouse and tried to hit me. I kicked him in the leg and got away...I reached for the shotgun and pointed it at him...he laughed and said I didn't have the nerve to shoot him, and explained how I was going to enjoy getting fucked."

Bobbie paused, she was looking at the door, "I pulled the trigger and...asked him if he enjoyed it as much as I just did." She closed her eyes, "The Mayor had the police report it as an accident...for the newspapers. Hell, they were worried an attempted rape by a former village policeman would be bad for the new development." She paused. "Glad the door is closed, the 'F' word is not very professional."

Ted gave her a moment to regroup. Bobbie pointed to the envelope, "I never looked inside."

"How did you get it?"

"He left it on the front seat of my car...which was locked by the way...maybe he wanted me to look over the papers. I don't know why. He died before telling me."

Holding the envelope in both hands, "Bobbie, you...you referred to my dead end meetings in the plural, why?"

"Nancy Gregg, who writes for the local paper, told me. She thought it was funny and told me about you walking into Kay-Bobs, then talking to Angie. And, Angie does not know about the envelope. At least I have no reason to believe she does. Look Ted, I am not sure why I did not tell Angie about the envelope or tell her about you contacting me. Seriously, I don't know why, because Angie and I have been good friends. So please don't press for an explanation."

"OK."

Ted rose, "I'm sorry about dragging up old memories, and I am sorry about dragging you into this."

She smiled, stood, "My turn to say OK."

"I don't even know what 'this' is. Someone does, and I would guess that someone will be contacting me." He weighed the envelope in his hand, "Time to let you go back to work. Thanks."

He shook her hand and took a step towards the door, stopped, and half turned, "How do you know Connie loves me?"

"The Internet." Ted turned to face her, his mind racing with thoughts about possible posted diaries and... "When you called I searched your name on the Internet to be safe, and there was a picture of you and Connie on the University's web site. I think it said 'the fundraiser was a success thanks to Ted and Connie, even if Ted refused to let her dance with anyone else.' The way she was looking at you...that woman loves you."

"We love each other."

As Ted turned towards the door again, "Keep your back covered Ted." He had to think for a second, then he remembered her comments about who got tops. She laughed, a great laugh.

Approaching his car in the parking garage Ted saw Mr. Detsmit standing by the driver side door. "Should I call you Mr. Detsmit or uncle?"

"I like uncle...I have waited a long time to hear that."

"Without the disguise and the pathetic lighting at the library it's obvious you're my Mom's twin. Here," extending his hand holding the envelope, "why the bullshit about Bobbie and Angie? What the hell kind of game are you playing?"

"They would have recognized me as a Steadman...I look too much like my parents."

"So!"

"Ted, I am not the one who left the rope for Connie to find."

"DAMN...what do you know about that?"

"Teal told me." Ted stared at his uncle. "She called me. Ted, your mother has always known how to get in touch with me in an emergency...besides I sent her flowers at the motel."

"Awe shit, what the hell is going on!"

"I decided to end this nightmare that Teal, you, and I were written into. I want to stop it...meet a woman like Bobbie...intelligent, perceptive, and drop dead gorgeous."

The bitterness did not leave Ted's voice, "Morgan discovered the drop dead part the hard way."

Danny was looking past Ted's left shoulder. Ted jumped when a voice said, "Do we need to be introduced, Mr. Ted's uncle?"

Ted turned to see Bobbie, "How, how long...?"

"Question one, I am not one of those doctor's that enjoys waking the patents up in the middle of the night. Question two," looking at Danny, "I've been watching."

Danny smiled. "Ted, she was apparently covering your back." Bobbie and Ted laughed; Danny had no idea what the two of them found so funny. He did know that Bobbie probably had a gun in her lab coat pocket.

Danny apologized profusely for the charade, thanked Bobbie for her assistance, and tapped his hand on the car's roof to indicate he and Ted had to leave. Bobbie contemplated her response, "Do you really expect me to accept your apology?"

"No, but I do wish I could have thought of an easier way...I...I was not sure if you could be trusted...or anyone can be trusted. I am sorry... and I meant that. Thank you. I honestly mean it."

"OK. So, am I 'perceiving' it, 'intelligently' correct, the drop dead gorgeous remark was for my benefit?"

"Yes. Can I call you?"

"You're taking a lot for granted."

"I take nothing for granted...nor do you, right?"

"Right. I'll think about it."

Danny got into the car. Ted was once again lost for words, "You're going...to call her? I can not believe she stood there and let you give some lame excuse for your actions."

"I like her. And, since she did not shoot me, I figured she liked me."

"Shoot you?"

"With the gun, Ted. The one in her pocket."

"Fuck...where are we going?"

"My place."

As they drove Danny, except to give directions, listened quietly to Ted's recount of his meeting with Bobbie.

Bobbie returned to her office and sat quietly behind the desk; the do not disturb sign still on the outer door. Giving the package to Ted was easy; now what? She had thought by giving Ted the 'last remains' of Morgan she would be relieved, feel some euphoria. But nil, nada, nothing. Bobbie felt deprived of something she had desperately sought. She was involved and could not disengage. 'The problem,' she quietly deduced, was the other one, Ted's uncle.

That was a much different problem. Bobbie had spent her entire teenage and adult life fending off advances; keeping clueless boys and ill mannered, morally deprived men at arm's length. She had always given them the benefit of the doubt and sought the gentler let down approach. Bobbie had heart. Then, her ex-husband broke her heart. Bobbie no longer felt she could trust men. So now, this Ted brings the spookiness of Simplicity Lane to her doorstep; which would have been trouble enough. No, Ted has an uncle whose eyes penetrated to her heart and knew instantly it was beating for him.

Bobbie looked at the framed photograph on her desk and picked it up as she often did to play with while she sat at the desk thinking. The shot was of her, Angie, and Angie's husband Chuck. She chastised herself about the dust on the frame. Two years ago they had gone to a concert in Fair Oaks and stopped to eat at a small place near the bus station, some place Chuck knew about. The food was OK, but nothing to brag about. Chuck asked the waiter to take the shot of them. She and Angie each had a copy.

When she had wiped the dust away she placed the frame back on the desk. A bright flash of light hit her eyes as the glow from the desk lamp reflected off the silver frame. The memory of Angie's anguish about that night also flashed before her eyes. The funny thing about that evening was the next day Angie asking her if she thought Chuck had a girlfriend. "He's been to the place without me...never, Bobbie, he has never mentioned the place!" The thought of Chuck having secrets was conceivable. Besides, why would Chuck eating someplace by himself be, what, threatening to Angie? He seemed to love Angie and they had been together since high school.

"Why now?" Bobbie whispered to herself, "Why think about that now? This Ted's uncle, does he hide secrets? Yes. From me? Don't think so, his eyes told me how he felt beyond the words. So why?" Bobbie wondered if, by wiping away the dust from the frame, she had released some repressed thought, the old hidden in the closet kind.

As the two drove to Danny's motel two towns over, Danny silently listened to Ted's story; his mind was fixed on Bobbie. Asking to see her was a rash utterance. Danny was too practical to believe in omens, he just knew – one hundred percent knew – that Bobbie and he would spend the rest of their lives together.

Not to his surprise, Ted found Teal and Connie waiting for them in Danny's room. Hugs, kisses; a grand family reunion. Ted was relieved that Connie and Teal were alright and, quite frankly, relieved that no one else was waiting; although not sure who.

Ted retold his story for the women and showed them Morgan's envelope he had received from Bobbie. Danny added that Morgan had contacted him through the library. Of course Morgan did not know that he was talking to Danny. Danny recognized that Morgan was searching for something and that Ned Hawkins had been helping him.

"Okayyyee," Ted looked first at Danny, then Teal, "would you tell Mom and Connie your explanation, excuse, for the charades at the library."

"Just like his mom."

Teal, not angry or upset, since she had already heard the 'excuse' over the phone, "That's a legitimate question Danny, not that I should be the one to tell them how lame the excuse is." Danny looked uneasy, having lost the 'mister-in-charge position.' "Danny, maybe I should preface your reply with the way I personally phrased the question...don't let this shock you Connie...I said, very nicely, WHAT in the hell, DID YOU have, going on, in that brain of yours, to come up with such a STUPID, DANGEROUS task for Ted!" Teal grinned.

"Ouch...guess that won't get me any sympathy, will it?"

The three sat staring at him.

Danny put his hand up, "No answer. Just as I said in the parking garage, they would have recognized me as a Steadman...I look too much like my parents. At the time I did not see any danger in it. It was something I had read in a novel...I never expected the jump rope episode."

Ted and Connie just looked dumbfounded at him; while Teal smiled at his discomfort.

"Wish I could rewind history and do it differently. Ted, Connie, Teal, I'm sorry. I was wrong," seeing Teal's raised eyebrow, "And stupid."

"Mom, he's forgiven. No point in belaboring the issue." Connie seconded the motion.

It was time to look into the envelope that Bobbie gave Ted.

— **////—**

### Chapter Sixteen

July 15, 2005

There was quite a bit of stuff crammed into the package. Placing the pile on the on the coffee table Danny, fanned the items out. Obviously Morgan was hunting for something that had to do with the murder of the two policemen. One sheet of paper caught Danny's immediate attention, a hospital record from his stay after trying to commit suicide. "This answers the question of why Morgan was interested in memory recall. The report talks about my suppressing the events leading up to the attempt."

Teal asked how Morgan could have gotten it. Danny said that most likely Morgan, who had worked for the State Police part-time after retirement, used his job to con it up, "And by the way, Morgan was in Mexico, that's why he disappeared from Tamplation."

Connie held up her hand, looking at Ted, "Wait, if he was in Mexico, and this Angie and Bobbie are such great friends, how come Bobbie said Morgan had married and then divorced?"

"Bobbie told me that she did not believe Morgan's story...but you have a point there. Either Angie lied to Bobbie, which could be the reason Bobbie does not fully trust Angie, or Bobbie lied to me."

Ted looked at Danny. The two women recognized 'a man thing' had just passed between them.

Ted picked up what looked like an evidence report sheet dated September 20, 1965 with a piece of a page from a book stapled to it, showing it to the group, "Guess he stole this as well. Looks as if it went through a washing machine. It's in French...that's odd...and not very legible...but damn, it makes for interesting reading material!" He had their attention. "Listen to this, _L'autre a dirigé me marche sur et enfourche deux séparent un peu des chaises et, se plaçant ...entre eux il m'a eu m'accroupit...jusqu'à ce que sa bouche était directement au dessous de mon temple de nature._ "

Connie tapped Ted on the forehead, "Thanks for the somewhat incomprehensible French lessen honey but do you mind doing a translation?"

"My French is a bit rusty Connie, ummmm give me a second." Ted looked slightly at his mom and uncle.

"Well Ted, we're waiting."

"Connie...gees. Ok. 'The other directed'...no...'walks me on'...and she mounts 'two separate little the chairs and, placing himself'...the other person..."

"We get that TED."

"Connie. The other person, a man, is between her legs and 'had me crouches until his mouth was directly under my temple of nature.' There, satisfied!"

They all laughed, except Ted, "Ok folks, ha ha. The note on the sheet says 'Stars-a-Plenty Motel and Camp Ground; possible vagrant'. The police should have added who reads pornographic French."

Laughs.

The group agreed with Teal's summation that the piece of porn was very interesting evidence, but for what; and it was not something they would find in the local library.

Danny held up another evidence report sheet, same date. This one had a match book stapled to it. "Does anyone want to guess where the RO 4, no doubt Rogers 4, telephone exchange is?" Ted and Connie looked at Danny like he was from outer space.

Teal laughed, "Danny, be real, these two have probably never seen a rotary phone.

Danny explained, "Prior to the...what...mid-sixties local phone services were divided into areas such as Rogers and Belmont. The phone number is for 'Pete' and was found at the Stars-a-Plenty. Busy place."

Ted reached for the sheet Danny was holding. "I'll call back to the University. We can fax copies of all this from the motel office and I'll have someone do a search."

Danny was out of ear shot when Connie poked Ted in the side, "You going to explain 'temple of nature' to her?"

"Funny!"

Teal started laughing so hard she almost fell out of her chair. Ted was not amused and Teal was not going to miss an opportunity, "Look, my little Teddy is blushing."

Danny walked back into the room, "Our plan," waving at the material from the envelope, "we copy all of it, let Ted fax what he says can be researched better at the University, and then call the police since this is their property."

Twenty dollars later the papers were copied while the kid on duty at the motel office looked the other way. The police sent someone over to pick up the material. They were pleased about the missing evidence and said it was from the Pepper and Harris murder. However, this was a long time ago and the case was long cold. Nevertheless, they wanted to talk to the four the next day. Thus, another day in paradise for the Stedman clan.

While the group was making the copies, Millie was back at the University eating Route 11 potato chips in relative silence, crunching each chip as if it were her last. The crunching of the chips and her breathing punctuated the solitude of her dorm room. She had become a Route 11 fan at first bite. They were not just her favorite; they were her anchor to family and home. The University was nothing more than a stop; not home. The room, just a place to retreat to when she needed to sleep, wash, change clothes. Millie did not consider it any more than a room. Nothing more. However, the Route 11's were more than great chips; they were a taste of home. Then, a 'home' for Millie had been a succession of places as her father moved in assignments. Thus, the consistency of chips was a measure of consistent pleasure in her life. Millie equated 'consistency' to 'home.' She made an extra loud chomp, sighed, and turned back to her laptop.

She had been reading about her friend's love life and it only made her think about Ted. No doubt he was still under the covers with Connie. "What a bitch!" Millie would never accept Connie. She would never accept that Ted loved Connie; it had to be entrapment. So when the phone rang and she saw it was Ted, Millie subconsciously prayed it was Ted calling to say he and Connie had a fight and needed Millie to make his life whole. It was Ted; just unfortunately not 'I cannot live without you.'

"Sorry to call you at the dorm, but I am sending you a multi-page fax. Need you to look up the name and phone number on a matchbook, and figure out what book some French writing is from, and some other items. Thanks."

Sure Ted had been nice; asked her how she was doing, what was new, "et cetera, et cetera, ET CETERAa,." Millie was even more depressed.

Her phone rang again; Ted. "Millie, the newspaper article was left for me by my uncle who thought I was still in the area and he wanted me to be aware of it."

"Nice uncle Ted."

"He feels really bad about it."

"He should!"

"Millie, he's really sorry; he had no idea you would find it...that it would scare you."

"Me scared...no way, I was shocked half to death Ted!" Millie did not say anything further, but she knew there was more to Ted's explanation than he wanted to tell her.

When the call to Millie and the police property was taken care of, Ted and Teal checked into rooms at the motel and then made a fast run back to their original lodging to retrieve their clothes. Next, Ted and Connie made a run to the food store, giving Teal and Danny time to talk.

Alone, Danny explained to Teal the events that lead to November 1973. For their fourteenth birthday Teal got a hot new record album and Danny a subscription to a science magazine. Danny's passion was reading and he threw himself into schoolwork; he wanted to be a doctor. Their fourteenth birthday was a big thing for Teal. For Danny it was one more day to think about life and its complexities.

Teal was ignorant of the depth of Danny's fear. She assumed whatever the man had said to Danny – once she had blocked out the world around her – was controlling Danny's actions to distance himself from her. As Teal grew older, her comprehension of minds and fears did make her more appreciative of the depth of Danny's fear; yet Teal was still no less unknowing. She simply assumed the man spoke some prophetic words as he dashed out of the room. But no words had transpired from the time the man heard Teal approaching to long past the moment he exited the room. At Teals screams the man left the room as quietly as he had entered it. Nevertheless, Danny did not miss – even at six years of age – the smile of a killer the stranger bestowed upon him. Even at six – then at seven, eight, at fourteen – Danny could not mistake the raw terror in the smile. The man seemed to totally disregard Danny's defiant charge and he seemed to almost float out of the room; not feet off the ground, but effortlessly pass through the door with purposeful steps that were neither forced, rushed, or hesitant to avoid the adults who would be responding to Teal's screams.

The man paused at the door, not turning, and with back to Danny, he reached up with his right hand and used his fingernail to tap on the door frame. Tap. Tap. Tap. It was the same sound Danny had heard when the man entered the room. It was the same sound the man made when he was standing against the wall; the sound that Teal heard; the sound that alerted her as to what terror held Danny in a frozen trance. The man had taped on the wall with his finger. Tap. Tap. Tap. And before he advanced on Teal he sneered, playing with her fear, while taping the wall. Tap. Tap. Tap. Then he moved forward to reach out, to touch her shoulder, tap, tap, tap...Teal screamed.

The part Danny did not know was that once clear of the room, the man knew the adults, and soon the police, would be looking for him. So he used the open outer door for deception and hid in another part of the building; relying on the natural instincts of man to assume whoever had been, was now history to the light of day. Once the police had made sure the door was properly locked from the inside and departed the hardware store to write their report in the coolness of the diner, the man left. The man had relied on their human instinct to focus on the 'obvious.'

Danny and Teal were legitimately frightened, and their parents allowed them to sleep with their bedroom lights on for the next few weeks. For Danny, he knew the man wanted his silence. While Teal only thought the man wanted to hurt her like the bad people her parents had warned them about. The terrible experience, while graphically reinforcing the Stedman parents' concern about random acts of violence against children, they continued to believe it was a random incident.

A week after the episode – it had now progressed from a near crime, to an episode of life – the Stedman children were still shaken. Teal would cling to her mother; avoiding strangers. Danny became withdrawn; his six-year-old mind focused on his fear as an inward problem, trying to understand what he had done that was so bad the wall had sent the man to silence him. Why had the man threatened to harm Teal if Danny spoke? Danny was at a loss for an explanation.

At fourteen he found it quite accidentally. And when he found it, Danny recognized he would never be able to put the man behind him. No, all the years of silence – the inward battle, the silence to appease the man and protect Teal – were, but rent on the room of isolation he now lived in.

Danny had gone to the library to do a homework assignment on collectables. As he leafed through a magazine on doll collecting, a fellow student told him there was an article in the paper about Barbie dolls. The headline read "Barbie Doll Found, Terry Still Missing." Danny wondered what grade the other student should be in if he thought this was an article on dolls. As he was putting the paper back on the shelf, his eyes caught another, smaller headline " _FBI Still Baffled About Tamplation Killings_ ":

"Special Agent Greg Vinnetta has worked the Tamplation murder case for eight years and does not want to give up, "The town, already shaken by the death of their patriarch, The Cookie Lady, had to deal with this senseless act. We want to bring the perpetrators to justice. This does not merely have to do with police officers being killed in the line of duty. It has to do with safety of the public. The public's..."

Danny had taken less than ten steps back to the table that his school books were on, when the walls of his isolation crashed in on him, squeezing out the remaining thoughts of control over his fears. Danny did not stop to pick up his books as he ran out the door; running until he kicked the chair out from under himself in the attic.

The path to that attic started at the hardware store. For the first week after the man, who sounded like the wall, had spoken to him, Danny could not sleep. By week two, Danny would fall asleep only after long hours of staring at the far wall. Danny's bedroom, back on Simplicity Lane, was bright, with the ceiling light and a desk lamp, on chasing away the shadows of night. All of the bedrooms were on the second floor of the house and the windows were open to let in the cool nighttime breeze. Danny's dad said everything would be okay. No one would be able to come in through the window. You needed a ladder, the ladder would make noise, the dog would bark at any strangers in the area, and Danny's father would hear it. By week four, the Stedman were on vacation and Danny's aunt kept the windows closed; air-conditioning. The distraction from the hum of the air-conditioner gave some relief to the silence of Danny's fears.

Danny and Teal were not privy to the discussions concerning Pepper and Harris. The two children only knew they would not be returning to Tamplation and would start school in Atlanta. Danny was relieved. He would be away from the talking wall, the man. Had the Stedman understood the seriousness of Danny's problem they would have taken him to a doctor sooner; however Danny's obvious upswing in attitude was reassuring. They saw relief reflected in Danny's eyes, but could not hear the struggle within. Danny's secret was lost to adult notice due to the general nature of children's frightening experiences and, now, in the upheaval with the move to Atlanta.

It was five weeks after Pepper and Harris were killed that Danny found one of Teal's dolls in his 'bedroom,' the first floor den of his aunt's house. At breakfast Danny told Teal to stay out of his room. Teal defended herself. "Of course she says she did not, Mom!" "Mom, he's trying to get me in trouble!"

A few days later the doll was in his room again. Danny said nothing this time. He simply placed it back in Teal's room, just as the wall had told him to do so. Danny had awoken to a tap, tap taping. The room was darker than Danny had ever known it to be. At first, Danny thought the power had gone off; his dad had explained about the electrical storms prevalent to the area. But there was no storm. Someone had turned off the lights and Danny was too scared to reach over and turn them back on; that would mean leaving the safety of the covers.

So Danny lay in the bed, eyes shut tight, listening to the quietness of the night. The 'tap, tap, tap' came from the wall to his right, from what seemed to be behind the closet door. Then the wall talked to Danny in a low, threatening voice, "I know where you live Danny, where Teal is, so keep our secret." Danny kept his eyes shut so tight they hurt. He also kept the secret inside. Danny had never told anyone about the wall talking of a "bag of ice."

At six, Danny had no idea what the wall was talking about. At six Danny only knew the wall at his aunt's was as frightening as if the man who spoke like the wall was standing there in the room. Danny wondered why a bag of ice was so important. At six, Danny thought grownups were strange.

At fourteen, Danny read a newspaper article about two policemen being murdered in front of their old house in Tamplation. At fourteen, Danny read how the bodies were arranged to point to the house. At fourteen Danny knew walls did not talk. At fourteen, Danny knew 'a bag of ice' was slang for diamonds. At fourteen Danny knew diamonds were worth killing for, and he had heard the death knoll for two people. At fourteen Danny knew the only way to protect Teal was to kill himself.

— **////—**

### Chapter Seventeen

July 15, 2005

While Teal and Danny talked, Ted and Connie went a few towns over and found a strip mall. They stopped first for some coffee. Across the road two riders went past on horses. These were good looking horses, well groomed and fit. Ted asked the woman behind the counter if there was a riding trail along the road. There was, and several others interlaced between the towns. "The area has become real horse friendly, especially Tamplation. We get a lot of weekenders now. People come in from all over to ride the countryside."

A voice from one of the other tables interjected, "Use to be fast cars and pick-ups, glasspacks and Holly carbs," he laughed, "it's a toss-up between noise and horse droppings."

"You don't mind him, he's jealous cause he's too old to ride anything but a chair!"

Ted and Connie thanked them and relaxed in their seats.

"You'll never know how many times I've dreamed about you." Connie grinned, placing her cup back on the table, "Do you?"

Ted, while young, was smart enough to know there was no correct answer, "You hold me responsible for your childhood fantasies?"

"Your problem, cause you waited so long to ask me out." Connie could be relentless; Ted was receptive. She liked the way he accepted her teasing, how he laughed at her jokes, how he put his hands over his ears when she sang, "I once counted a week's worth and it was close to sixty thousand dreams."

"That's one hell of a lot of dreaming?"

"Well, to make you feel less responsible, I did not count day dreaming."

"Connie if you want me to believe you, I am somewhat skeptical that you had sixty thousand dreams in one week."

"I count rapid eye movement...not every blink, and one hundred equals a dream."

Connie raised her coffee cup, "All gone!"

"Where now Ms. Blinker?"

"Paris."

"As in France?"

"No, as in Virginia...dah, of course France. Paris as in France!"

"Can we be back before Danny and my Mom send out a search party?"

"Guess Paris is out."

As they rose from the table, Ted placed his hand on her upper arm, steering her towards the door, "Would you want to go there on our honeymoon?"

"Maybe...then, let's be realistic. You cannot afford it...we cannot afford it."

"You're correct, right-on-the-money, as in we."

At the door Connie stopped abruptly. "Ted," waiting for his complete attention, "you know I was joking...about Paris." She used her hands to turn him towards her, her head tilted to look up into his eyes, "I was joking about Paris."

"Okay."

"No, Ted, repeat after me, Connie was joking about Paris."

"Connie..."

"Ted!"

"Alright, Connie was joking about Paris."

"Were your fingers crossed?"

Ted had the urge to place a hand over each of her breasts to prove his fingers were not crossed; instead he just held them up and said, "Connie was joking about Paris." Glad that was accepted, Ted opened the door for Connie, gave her a smile as she exited.

Fifteen minutes later, at a store, Ted called over to Connie, who was thumbing through magazines, "We need to go."

"Hold on a sec." None caught her attention. She would have to do without. She gave the magazine another quick scan, then walked over to the counter where Ted was waiting to pay for the few items he needed. The food store would be next.

As he was buckling his seat belt Connie tossed a tri-fold on his lap. A picture of the Eiffel Tower was prominent on the cover. She laughed, "In case you had your toes crossed."

Ted took out his cell phone.

"Who you calling?"

"My Mom to ask how to tell when a woman is joking."

"Teddy," sweet kiss on his cheek, "she'll simply put her baby's mind at ease by saying 'Connie will let you know.' So don't waste the phone minutes, lover of mine."

"Oh, so I'm to now guess if you were joking?"

"Yep!"

"I would think the wedding and honeymoon would be serious planning, not joking."

"Oh Ted, you are such an easy target."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Once back at the motel Teal and Connie had things to do; calls had to be made about the engagement. This left Ted and Danny alone for a while. Ted was hungry, so they went over to the kitchenette.

"Ferber Passing, I used that name when I bought the property. Has a nice ring to it, don't you think? Sounds like a dead person, or one heading to his grave." Ted was not amused at his uncle's choice of fake names or methods. Danny could read this. "You have your mother's sense of humor."

"Why?"

"You also have her 'cut-to-the-bone' directness; someone else would not have questioned my remark." He studied Ted, judging what words would be appropriate to answer Ted's, no doubt, many questions. Ted sat patiently, waiting.

Danny looked at his hands, holding them out in front of his body as if he were checking his nails; it was to check if they were shaking. Ted watched. "I used to shake so bad I had trouble holding a pen. My teachers would send notes home admonishing me for sloppy handwriting." He dropped his hands to his lap, "My parents made me practice, thinking that would solve the problem." Looking at Ted, "Funny, I was so determined to keep them from knowing, that I actually found the handwriting practice was relaxing." Danny got up from his chair and walked to the kitchenette sink.

Staring out the window, "Ted, when your Mom told you about me what did she say?"

Ted watched his uncle leaning against the sink, looking out the window, "That you became withdrawn after the move from Tamplation and tried to hang yourself. She said you gave her a note; gave it to her on her last visit to the hospital, and all she had left was the note."

Danny turned, his stance asked "And?"

"She said you feared for her and you tried to commit suicide to protect her; that she had to stay away from you."

"That's true, not that Teal would ever tell a lie. Just, until today she was still asking the same questions you are."

Ted at first thought his uncle was referring to why he had felt he was a threat to Teal, but then he wondered if Danny was talking about today. Why the fake names, the dead end appointments, the BS at the library. Danny could see the change in Ted's reaction. "Yes, I'm talking about what's going on in Tamplation." He paused to gather his thoughts. "Why? It's time to move on. There is nothing I could accomplish by continuing to live under a rock. One day I woke up and realized that rock was squashing me like a bug."

Danny moved back to the table and picked up a magazine, looked at its cover, then tossed it down. He looked at Ted, "Do you know how many times I have died; how many times my life slipped away from me." Ted remained patient. "Death of spirit is more painful than of the body. I chose to die over and over again because the most precious thing in the world to me was my sister. I...knowing what happened to us so long ago in Tamplation, knowing how she hurt inside when I stayed away from her, I could not bear seeing her cry over me the way she did when I tried to end my life."

"What happened in Tamplation? Did it have to do with what I read in the newspaper article, the wall talking?"

'She hasn't told him,' "Yes."

"It was not your fault. You were six years old."

"Thank you, but I have long ago forgiven myself for overhearing the conversations...for being the catalyst for your mother's nightmares." Ted's body twitched. "You don't know about them do you...I didn't think so." Danny reached out for a mint from the candy dish on the table. "She has nightmares. She would never want you to know why, and I know she has never fully explained them to Tom." Before Ted could defend his dad, "Your dad is the most wonderful thing that I could have ever wished for Teal; but, even if he knew all, he would not be able to stop them."

"Why are you telling me this? I know this is serious, not a game, yet I feel as if Mom and I are game pieces being moved around a game board."

"To some extent you're right."

"Okay. What about the grass...the general condition of the house? Why?"

"The grass is an easy one. Metal detectors."

Ted took a swig from his can of diet Pepsi, "You? Or someone else?"

"Oh, definitely others. Want to keep the Sunday prospectors from digging up the place. The mess of metal in the yard under the weeds does the trick. Good idea?"

"Why ask me."

"You're going to own the place...one day."

Ted played with the can of soda, "Not so sure Connie will agree to it." Looking for some reaction from Danny. Seeing none, "We went out there, and I would have to describe the place as spooky, even without the reaction from the villagers."

"What did Connie think, no feel? Feel is more proper."

"She thought the house smiled at her. And not a pleasant smile."

"When I first returned to Tamplation I heard the same stories. Of course I had lived there." Danny was looking out the window; he seemed to do that when the words were difficult, "I had no ill feelings towards the place; actually no feelings one way or the other...about the house. The village, well that's a different story altogether."

"So why the general condition of the house itself?"

"The house is haunted."

"Wait, you just said..."

"I know what I said. What I said was that I did not have any ill feeling towards the house. I do not hate the house. It's the memories of Tamplation that the house screams at me. And, haunted is not an ill feeling in itself, nor is it an assumption."

"Educated assumption?"

"Right...Connie was not imagining the smile. The house may not physically smile at you, but you can feel, taste the evil."

So matter of fact, no emotion. Ted even surprised himself by his reaction, acceptance; no recoil, no stare in amazement, not even a question mark. He asked himself why no reaction. Ted thought to himself 'why did Connie feel the smile and not he?'

Danny sensed the question on Ted's mind, read his face, "You're the deciding factor."

"The what?"

"The deciding factor. The house respects you."

Ted started to laugh, then stopped, "You're serious."

"Yes. If the house is truly evil...I mean if evil can be real, physical, an imamate object, you are the one who can make the final decision." Ted was lost and showed it. "Ted," Danny laughed, "You are connected to the house, yet have no preconceived notion, no psychological dependency on the place. You have the ability to choose to believe, or not to believe. So the evil does not touch your subconscious."

"Connie," playing along in this oddity odyssey, "why did she feel it?"

"She believed as soon as she heard; seeing reinforced the belief." Danny held up his hand, "I am not saying the house has some supernatural ability, some horror movie-like power to draw young blonds into its depths of despair. Nope, no mysterious slamming doors or whatever...just the power of perception."

"You really expect me to believe this?"

"Yes. The inner strength you have against the perceptions...regardless of your own memories of fear and the superstitions you associate with those fears...is the strength against the house," in a lower, far off voice, "this village."

"You're saying I am immune to this psychological power?"

Reading the skepticism, "Not immune. I don't think anyone is immune from evil in this sense. No, you have chosen not to believe." Seeing Ted was still laughing on the inside, "How does voodoo work?"

"The power of suggestion."

"You just answered your own question. When people truly believe, they lose strength over the power of perception. But you have to throw in a dash of the unexplainable...coincidence? No, it's like ESP. Do you believe in ESP?"

"Yes, but I have yet to find a scientific proof."

"OK. Ted, in answer to your question about the general condition of the house, I want you to read something I wrote the first, and only, time I approached the place. And by the way, I believe your becoming a psychologist was not an accident, nor the studies of the differences between oral and written history. Ted, you chose to be here, to bring us here. Oh, don't feel responsible. It was fate, Ted. I believe in fate...Teal believes in fate, and I bet Connie does as well. You are the one who does not give the unexplained due credit." Danny had walked to his briefcase, opened it, rummaged through the contents and then removed a sheet of paper, "Thought about writing a novel. Here. Coincidence?"

One Day at Hell's Front Door

Times were tough, and the wind-swept front yard – knee high grass and weeds, spattered with rusted remnants of unknown objects, and the lifeless smell of stillness, staleness – presented a foreboding hint to even rougher times; times anchored by the small, wood frame house at One Twenty-Three Simplicity Lane. Long before he stretched out his shirt clad arm, before his wrist would extend from the confines of the suit coat, to grasp the gate – an askew portal along the rotted, paint scant picket fence – his eyes, his ears, the wan flesh on the back of his hand sensed the death within. No longer physical death, now spiritual. The human bodies had long past departed the house. The human bodies had long past ceased to reside – if reside could define existence, if existence could define labored breaths leaving trailing mists in the winter air, leaving lingering vibrations on the passionless walls, but no heartbeats – long past the lives of those who had resided within.

Times were rough.

The unwelcome visitor felt the aged wood of the gate under his sweat soaked palm, fingers gripping splintered wood, as he swung the gate inward; inward, not to the yard alone, but inward to his very soul. The rusted metal hinges strained against the pressure. Then, an unintended hesitation of advance. The wood of the gate, like the man himself, silently applauded this hesitation; a short reprieve from the inevitable.

With the gate now open – just wide enough for passage – the man stepped into the yard, placing but one foot on the weed infested gravel path; the other foot still gallantly holding on to the world outside. Surly there were two worlds. The orderly one he lived in and...and the dark world he was intruding on.

Now, with both feet firmly on the path, the man willed his legs to walk towards the porch, the house; towards the destiny he had so meticulously laid out, planned, presented as a challenge to himself. The man walked in measured steps, his brown tie shoes, dress shoes, crunching the gravel beneath heel and toe. Heel and toe crunching the gravel in some wordless song. Sixteen paces later he was facing the porch and the three battle-weary wooden steps awaited his ascent.

The steps groaned under his weight, yet he gave no indication of his growing concern; but concerned he was. Now on the porch, the man stopped. His inclination was to turn around to look back on the path, the gate, on the world beyond. No, to turn would expose his back to the house. No, he would continue his advance. Again he willed his legs to take steps. Four strides and he had crossed the porch; now inches from the door.

Again he stops. Again he overcomes the urge to turn around; this time not to see, but to leave in haste. What, he questions himself, was stronger, the urge, the need to see what was on the other side of the threshold, or the feeling of utter dread that was enveloping him? Somewhere back beyond the rotted fence a crow screeched. The man shivered, for until that moment, since entering the yard, he had heard not a living sound. This realization stood him frozen in thought.

He was scared. And the house most lovingly felt his fear and smiled.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ted put the paper on the table and became lost in thought. He sat silently for almost ten minutes; silently thinking about Connie, about his parents, Danny, and himself. As for Danny, he just busied himself away from the table to keep from disrupting Ted's thoughts. Danny knew there were no additional words to be said about the house itself; Ted understood.

When Danny returned to the table they did not discuss the house or Danny's writing; in fact, Danny purposely moved the conversation to sports as they finally started to eat.

"Here's an interesting fact," Danny looked up and saw Ted was not listening; Ted was dissecting his sandwich which Connie had made earlier. The top slice of bread moved out of the way, lying on the table, with the rest of the sandwich – while on the plate – had been systematically de-layered; meat, tomato, lettuce, and cheese. "What are you doing?"

"Why is the cheese on one end, see, and the meat on the other?"

"You've got me, why?"

"I'm asking you why."

"Ted, am I missing something here?"

"Why did Connie make a sandwich with the inners – the ham and cheese – as the outers?"

Danny looked at his own, half eaten, sandwich, "Most likely used the inners (?) to keep the outers from getting the bread soggy."

Ted contemplated Danny's answer, shook his head yes, and proceeded to put his sandwich back together. Danny just watched. Sandwich united, Ted ate. Danny shrugged his shoulders, 'the kid is so much like his mom.' "Here's an interesting fact..."

Outside a truck came to a stop, Danny looked towards the window. "Ned and I talked a lot about Tamplation. Yes, I'm full of surprises. He tried to understand why people left town so suddenly. I contacted him out of need to know things...not sure what. Saw his name in the paper for some award. I had been...monitoring, that's the best term, monitoring Tamplation and felt it was time to talk to someone. Really not sure why I chose Ned."

"Weren't you worried he would give you away?"

"No. I used a fake name; said I was a distant relative of some family that left. He told me the story about Harmen; not to spread innuendos, to warn me about the house. Ned told me that Chief Kelt, the village police chief, never got over the death of Pepper and Harris. Chief Kelt seemed to feel responsible. He was never the same."

"Said Kelt had seemed to distrust Morgan. There was something more going on. Oh, he did not blame Morgan, but Kelt told Ned that Pepper and Harris had been hiding something from him and Morgan was aware they were up to something and did not step in as an older brother, so to speak."

"Like what?"

"Kelt had no idea."

The truck started and drove off. Danny turned back to Ted and pointed to the pile of copied items from the envelope. "That seems to bolster Ned's story. I have read and reread the newspaper accounts, the official police reports, and the only connection I found was just before Pepper and Harris died, the Breadman died in a car accident, investigated by Morgan, at the same time a landlord called to have the Breadman evicted; that call was answered by Pepper and Harris."

"You think there is a connection?"

"Possibly. Anyway, Ned said that Morgan had some out of town business associates that were not of his liking."

"Could be the normal small town prejudices."

"Could be."

Danny changed the subject, "Your Mom knew I was coming to Tamplation. No, don't say anything just yet. She knew I would find you."

"Why did...how..."

"Teal walked away as I asked her to that day at the hospital; walked away physically, but far from emotionally. Nor could I." Danny looked at his hands. "I could no more walk away from my family, as they from me." His voice carried his emotions, "You have no idea how hard it was. I missed kissing my mom, hugging my dad. I missed dancing with your mom at her wedding...and I missed holding you in my arms when you were born." He had to get his emotions in check. "Your birth was the breaking point and I sent Teal a letter. Oh, I was smart and tried to write between the lines, no address; no way to trace back to me except a phone number. Tom does not know, best I can tell.

She called me. We spoke and then put our lives on separate roads again." Hesitancy, "Someone found out." His last words may have been said calmly, yet the fear was present. Ted twitched, Dark Man? Danny could not miss this, "Yes."

Ted looked away towards the wall, "What do you know?"

"When you had the experience in the attic, Teal saw more in your eyes than you were able to vocalize. She saw your fright; its depth reflected in your eyes. The same she sees in her own. Tom is not privy to that depth. Tom was worried for you, Teal was terrified. She tried to put it aside. Telling herself maybe you were just scared, no problem. Scared was something Teal knew how to deal with." Ted blinked; the twitch of his body was noticeable to himself.

"Later that night Teal became aware of your tossing and turning in bed. And when she went to you, you said "he was sending code." She asked, 'Who was sending code darling?' 'The spy. He kept sending an 'S'.' Teal told you it was alright. It took all the strength she could find to smile and say it was alright."

If Ted had twitched at the beginning, the sudden flash of the Morse Code 'S' made him latterly jump.

Danny knew it was time to end the conversation, and thankfully Teal and Connie returned at the opportune time.

About 6 PM Ted's cell phone rang, it was Bobbie wanting to speak to Doctor Detsmit. With a questioning glance towards Danny, mouthing 'Bobbie', "Doctor Detsmit can speak to you now," handing the phone to Danny.

"This is Doctor Detsmit."

"Howard, glad you were free, thought I would return your call before you found some hot surfer babe. How's the West Coast?"

"Great, the family is here with me, but there is always room for you."

"I am sure you would make room for me, however not until after our first date – if you're lucky – I want my own room."

"So, Bobbie what's shaken? You with someone?"

"Yep, with someone," Danny could hear a female voice in the background laughing, "my friend Angie."

"She cute?"

"Excuse me? Was that comment supposed to make me regret turning you down?" Winking at Angie, "He asked if you're cute. She's pretty like me, smartass!"

Angie chimed in loud enough for Danny to hear, "Ah, the banter of love birds."

"Bobbie, what's going on?"

"Just thought you still wanted to see me, so I was going to invite myself out to California."

"I would like that. Is this a business or pleasure trip?"

In a playful voice, "Howard...bad enough Angie has to hear me begging you to see me, she does not have to know this is a pleasure trip."

"I understand, when?"

"There's a flight at 8:30 AM. Can you meet me at the airport?"

"Figuratively, or literal?"

"I'll leave my car at the airport in long term parking."

"I'll be at the airport waiting. Call later if you can, or in the morning from your car."

"Great, see yeh."

Bobbie hung up the phone and smiled at Angie, "What can I say, the guy is in love with me and he is good looking, apparently very successful, and wants to spend money on me."

"Bobbie, at least you're finally going on a date; even if you have to fly to California!"

Danny raised his hands chest high indicating he had no idea what that was all about. "Bobbie is sneaking out of Tamplation in the morning. Angie was there; thinks Bobbie is going to California."

Ted's face took on a discernible indication of 'oh, shit, now what,' "You sure about this?"

"Yes, she must feel that she is in danger." Seeing Ted's skeptical look, "I know she can be a good actor, but not both of them doing impromptu. She doesn't want Angie to know about me."

After Angie left, Bobbie called again, this time asking for Danny. "I think it would be safer for me to leave town for a few days and I felt it was a good idea for Angie to 'know' when, where, and why I was going."

"You don't trust her?"

"No. Something isn't right and I'm spooked!"

"No jokes, I would like you here regardless."

"I know. Angie thinks I met you a few months ago at a seminar...I did meet a guy, JUST MET, and to keep her from pestering me I told her I would think about calling him. I didn't...I did not have to think about calling you."

They arranged to meet after Bobbie went into the terminal and wasted some time to give the impression she really did go to California.

— **////—**

### Chapter Eighteen

July 16, 2005

At six thirty in the morning Danny was waiting in a fast food parking lot just off the road leading to the airport. He saw Bobbie drive by at seven. Thankfully the traffic was light, knowing he was not good a looking for tails. Another car did not pass by for at least two minutes. At eight forty-five, with the California flight leaving the gate for takeoff, Bobbie slipped out of the terminal and was picked up by Danny. Her hair was tied up under a hat and she had changed clothes in the restroom; Danny almost missed her.

No one seemed to have followed them from the airport. The California flight passed overhead. Bobbie asked Danny to pull over, and when the car was almost to a stop she hugged and kissed him on the cheek. Danny had no problem translating the kiss, it was 'thank you,' "I guess I can be Danny now...oh, great outfit."

"Don't be an ass."

Danny called Ted and said he and Bobbie were fine.

"Story time Danny Stedman, so drive James." And as they headed to the motel Bobbie explained the reason for her swift departure. "Someone followed me back to work after lunch. I could feel him. Don't ask me why; I just could feel him. And when I got to work I knew someone had been in my office. That was a given because when I reached for this picture frame on my desk that I like to play with when I'm thinking, my hand hit it. When my hand hit the frame I first thought I had not returned it to its normal spot. Then I noticed the mat was not even. Someone had picked it up and the mat shifted slightly downward." Danny was trying to grasp this. "The mat is loose and I always replace it gently so the mat won't shift...I tend to like things orderly, in rows, etcetera. You know, everything in its place." She could see the wheels turning in his head, "Yes, I sleep on the left side of the bed, place my 'woman's stuff' on the left side of the sink, and," holding up her left hand, "yep, and, if you're lucky, I'll let you sit on my right side since you are unfortunately right handed."

Danny shook his head, "Anything else moved?"

"Couldn't tell. The person must have cleaned up after themselves. Whoever was in there had time because the office is open only for appointments in the afternoon and I finished my paperwork around eleven and took a long lunch. Okay, so the office thing was spooky enough, then I get home and Angie calls wanting an impromptu girl chat. It's a work day; she never gets away from the diner before seven."

"Not more than a few minutes into our girl chat Angie asks if I knew of some guy named Less Winford; 'Oh, he died a while back, thought you might have heard his name around the hospital.' I said no, and asked who he was. She said he retired from the State Police Crime Lab in the late-sixties, early seventies. Angie said that her granddad and this Winford had become friends and swapped stories about old Tamplation. She just wondered if Jes Morgan had mentioned him. Like, what the hell?"

Bobbie shifted in the seat, stiffened. "Jes Morgan! Damn, where the hell is Angie coming from. So I played along and told her the only thing Morgan ever asked me, beside the rape request, was that he wanted to know about people regaining their memories and we never got to discuss that subject because Morgan had his 'accident' while trying to press me for an answer to the rape request!" She stopped and caught her breath.

"Seems Angie's husband Chuck is suddenly interested in Tamplation history and she was asking for him. Then I remembered where I heard the name Les Winford. It was not from Morgan, it was in yesterday's paper. The entire front page was about an armed robbery in Fair Oaks. The store owner was shot dead, and buried in the article, hummm, poor choice of words..."

"I love a woman who can keep her sense of hummmmmmm-er in the middle of a murder story."

Smile, "As I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted, in the article they mentioned the store owner had once been a suspect to an unsolved murder in Fair Oaks. It was Winford's last big case before he retired. He apparently was considered a mastermind of criminal investigation at the State Police Crime Lab. I was about to say something to Angie when she preempted me with 'Did the Stedman kid ask you about Winford?' That's when I said to myself, 'Okay, time out.' How the hell did she know I spoke to Ted; I never told her about my meeting with Ted. I did not mention Ted's visit to anyone. I learned about her meeting from my friend Nancy who happened to be there when Ted asked for Angie's granddad."

Danny interjected that Les Winford was in charge of the State Police crime lab on the Pepper and Harris murder case. It was an easy connection to Ned Hawkins, but not to Fair Oaks.

"When my pager beeped I used that as an excuse to say you were calling from the Coast and...the rest is history." Bobbie relaxed in the seat.

He looked at her, then back to the road, "You bring your gun?"

"Of course. You get me a separate room?"

"Adjoining."

She smiled, "I never forget to check to make sure the pass door is locked. Oh, by the way, I also figured out your anagram yesterday."

"I was wondering why you trusted me enough to call."

"Well, I was curious why a Mr. Detsmit, who I had never heard of, would give Ted my private phone number. Sure it was easy to link me to Morgan, it was in the papers. But, who was Mr. Detsmit and how did he have the private line? On the phone issue, I guessed there could be a million reasons if I really cared to check, but since Ted's first visit seemed innocent enough I wrote it off. I do like Ted and I tried to steer him away from Simplicity Lane."

"Thanks. Not sure how it would have played out since you did not offer Ted the envelope during his visit. However, the next step was forced on Ted when an unwanted person entered the picture. Then, once you gave Ted the envelope your part should have been over."

She raised her eyebrow?

"The Ted seeking your assistance part would have ended. As for me, I fell in love with you the first moment I saw you."

"This is not the time to discuss your feelings for me...you just keep reminding yourself nevertheless, lest you forget and do something...unpleasing. As I was telling you, it was Ted's second call that made identifying you important. Whoever you were had to be someone who knew something more personal about me. So I thought, what is it about me he knows, personal like, and how does he know it. The anagramming idea was not my first guess, but when I settled on that I tried to think of what the letters could mean."

"And?"

"Actually I think you messed up by making it too easy."

"Messed up?"

"Yep. I almost stopped when I deduced 'Tim's Ted.' I may be smart, but how the hell was I to know it also stood for 'Timothy Stedman'?" She raised one finger, "A, I did not know you," a second finger, "and B, when we were introduced, using that term loosely, you were Danny, not Timothy Daniel Stedman. Nor, did I even know Ted was a Stedman until Ted Dantary told me his mom's maiden name. Once the issue became life threatening I called my Mom in Florida and asked her if she knew a Tim Dantary, or a Tim Stedman. Guess what Timothy Daniel, she said," parroting her mom's voice, "Timothy Stedman was in my day care group. No way could I forget Danny and Teal; especially the way little Timothy was so emphatic I call him Danny, like everyone else."

"You have a nice mom."

"She also said you were bright, witty, and 'really cute Bobbie' and wanted to know why I was asking. I told her a friend met you in New York."

"Good thinking."

"I know," false smugness.

"I did call someone who knew you, Hattie from the hospital. She thinks I am an old high school flame. That's how I got your phone number."

"So that's why she...you are an ass!"

"Yours is cuter."

Bobbie said she was through talking for a while.

Ted thought for a second, looked confused, "Hold on, your name is Hess. My teacher's name was Bartlow?"

"Nope, Hess," Bobbie laughed, "After the divorce I changed my name back to my Dad's; which by the way was not my Mom's when she was your teacher. She was Miss Bartlow then."

Danny hit his head with his right hand, "You're giving me a headache."

"Poor thing."

"Pitiless woman."

"No, not a fool; there's a difference."

Earlier at 6:40 that same morning a traffic light on the road to the airport was stuck on red and Chuck waited impatiently. He had lost her, "DAMN IT!" loud enough for the driver of the red Ford pick-up next to him hear. Chuck smashed his palm into the dashboard. He had done so well up until the traffic light. He smashed his palm into the dashboard again. Looking to his right he saw the man in the red truck staring at him, "Something funny?"

"You."

"Well F-you, asshole."

The man in the truck just laughed and made a right turn on red. Chuck waited, started to smash his palm again, then stopped just as the light turned green; he shot off to catch up with Bobbie. Not more than six hundred feet on the other side of the intersection a police car pulled out of a side street, lights on, obviously for Chuck. Fifteen minutes and a lifetime later – ticket crumbled-up and laying on the passenger side – Chuck realized he had really lost Bobbie.

Resigned to the dictates of fate Chuck slowed down. He would still head for the airport in hopes she really went there. Of course when Chuck arrived he knew he would not be able to find Bobbie's car without entering long-term parking; which meant paying to get out. Her car was there, so she must be in the terminal. Chuck muttered a few choice words as he paid the parking attendant and drove back to Tamplation. He hoped the bitch had fun in California; and he and Angie would be having a real sit-down when he got home. Somewhere on Route 14 his cell phone rang. "Yeah?" Silence. "Someone on the line?" Silence, than a tap, tap, tap. "Who's this?" Just another tap, tap, tap and the person hung up. Chuck hit 'calls received' and the number was Wendell's..."He's dead!"

Chuck and Wendell had met by chance. Wendell liked to go to the Tamplation library and, at the suggestion of Ned, he found the diner. At the time Chuck just knew Wendell, Morgan, and Ned swapped stories about the old days. After Ned died Morgan told Chuck how Wendell claimed he knew something about the death of Pepper and Harris.

Chuck missed the reasoning, "So?"

"Chuck, you are so dense, the two were onto something and Wendell saw the two dead cops just before they died."

"Why you telling me this?"

"Cause I need you to be my man in Fair Oaks."

"You smoking something? Why the hell do you need 'a man' in Fair Oaks?"

"Too many of my former colleagues know me."

"Morgan, you have lunch with the guy, so what's the problem?"

"No one will care if you and he talk about Pepper and Harris in Fair Oaks, but they would if I do."

Chuck caught the drift, "What's it worth to me?"

"You get a share."

"Of what?" Unless it was hard cash Chuck did not want to waste his precious time off from the diner.

"What it is that Pepper and Harris died for; that Fat Billy died looking for."

Chuck was clearly interested, but did not trust Morgan. "What were they looking for?"

"That's my security deposit. You just work with me and you'll get your share."

Of course, as Chuck likes to describe it to himself, the plan 'took a major dog dump' when that 'fucking slut Bobbie took Morgan's advances the wrong way.' Chuck had set Bobbie up to talk to Morgan.

As he put his cell phone away, Chuck had no idea who Wendell had just set him up to talk to.

9:53 AM: Danny and Bobbie were passing through Minnetta. Danny asked if Bobbie wanted to stop to eat something.

"Think it's safe?"

"Yes, I don't think anyone followed you to the airport. Even if they did, we took a route that does not head back to Tamplation."

They stopped at a diner that sat off the main road. Bobbie asked why not a more crowded place, like a shopping center. Danny explained that no one could drive up without them seeing. In a shopping center there would be more people, ergo possible safety in numbers from physical violence, but the crowd would also gave cover to anyone wanting to keep their presence a secret. "You a secret agent man?"

"No, a teacher, and I read a lot."

When they walked inside, the sound of Sara Evans singing _A Real Fine Place To Start_ struck Danny as very fitting.

Bobbie looked up from her buttermilk pancakes and noticed Danny had put his fork down and was leaning back from the table. He wanted to ask something, but was having trouble with how to start, she helped him, "What?"

"That is exactly the question, what? What is the real reason you called me, and don't say you were spooked and had to leave. Bobbie does not run from simple 'spookiness'."

"You think you're really smart don't you?"

"The education industry thinks so, but this is personal, of the heart, and I err human."

She looked at the forkful of pancake, "Can I eat and talk?"

"Sorry, guess my personal interaction intelligence level is a little awkward."

"I like real personal personalness."

Danny laughed, "Sorry."

"Don't be."

Contemplating the forkful of pancake, "My dad once described fine dining as a barbaric ritual that served no practical purpose other than seeing who could take the most circular route from plate, via fork stabs, to mouth."

"Are you telling me the truth?"

"No, I just made that up to see your reaction."

"Did I pass?"

"Yes, you would have failed if you did anything other than ask for the truth."

"It seems we keep testing each other. Is there any logic in this?"

"No."

"You can be blunt. Has anyone ever pointed that out?"

She put the forkful down, obviously ignoring his last comment, "Truth? I was spooked, but you're right I would not run from mere spookiness. Since I am involved and should know why, and, since you would be preoccupied with your quest, the only thing I could do was call and invite myself so as to protect you, physically if necessary, at least until our first date. Figured you would not accept that kind of assistance."

Danny looked down and shook his head in disbelief.

"Danny let's start the tale with I was married once. I fell in love with a guy I met in college. We got married in Med school. I wanted to return to the village to save the world, so to speak. I felt too many people had deserted the place and I wanted to be a Village child that remembered it was still there. So, Greg, my husband, and I settled in Tamplation. One day, about seven months after starting at the hospital, I was about to walk into the break room when I overheard a conversation between two male employees. Seems my husband, behind my back, had opened a general practice and was generally practicing on a nurse. I heard one of the men say he could not believe Greg had the balls to talk about banging Jane in Radiology. Why would he cheat on the fox he's married to? The other one responded that he knew 'Ice Princess' in high school and it only goes to prove the old saying 'marry a trophy wife, bang a whore'. Greg is now doing his 'practicing' in Chicago. Hummmmmm, I like that pun."

"I could have packed my bags and escaped the stares and words behind my back, but no. You're right. I learned as a little girl the only way to solve a problem is to face it. In doing so I've always learned more about myself. After the divorce was final, I went to my Mom's for a few days and she asked what I planned to do. The question of love life was not paramount; what was my reason for staying in Tamplation. I returned to Tamplation after Med school for some reason beyond saving the world. There had to be more. Strange as it sounds, my daily fight to keep face in the hallways of that hospital seemed to slowly turn a light on in my brain. The brighter the light grew the more I came to realize I had returned to town for some reason I was not, as yet, supposed to recognize, understand. Sure I wanted to selflessly give to the community, but in the recesses of my subconscious there was a more important egocentric reason as well."

Bobbie signaled for the waitress to bring more coffee. Cup filled, "I have no rational proof...but, as I said, I came to the conclusion I had returned here for a purpose that I was not supposed to know, just to accept it and live my life. Think about our lives. How many times have we asked ourselves why is something happening for no rational reason or no logical connection. Then days, years later something takes place that completes the picture. Those random occurrences, those out of place events that perplex, ego deflate, rip us apart, suddenly fall into perspective."

Bobbie leaned towards Danny. Very calmly, "I had no idea why I would be subjected to a Jes Morgan. I did not want to know and that's why I never cared to look into the envelope. Why did I become friends with Angie? What was the catalyst that causes someone to get an education and move back to Tamplation? None of it made any sense."

She seemed to be sizing him up. "Okay, here's an educated statement, when Ted called the first time I felt the stars aligning. When he called the second time I knew the stars were pointing to the answer of why Tamplation." Bobbie, stopped, looked at Danny; looked at his face, which was set in concentration, listening to each word she was telling him.

"That's why I followed Ted to the parking garage to see if he would meet someone. Not for the envelope he carried, but what he carried inside himself. I felt he was being used and whoever was using him was now using me as part of the star alignment and our ignorant roles in the continuum. When I saw you I could tell from your posture, expression, that you were not the kind of threat that would intentionally harm Ted. That's why I let you see me. What I did not expect was the way you looked at me. Then the pieces came rushing into place. The anagram, my mother being your daycare teacher, Angie introducing me to Morgan...I had returned to town to be there when you returned."

She could see his hesitant acceptance. "Now Mr. Stedman, it's your responsibility to figure out – for Ted, his girlfriend, his mom, for yourself, for me – what all this means. And I am going to protect my interest in this puzzle, which is you." Bobbie swiftly rose from the table. "Let's leave."

Back in the car Bobbie asked Danny to tell her about the incident in the parking lot that prompted Ted's call. He did, and covered the family saga, with the exception of the hardware store, from the talking wall through the suicide attempt until the day he decided to awake from the nightmares. Like Teal, Danny kept the hardware store inside. However, as he related his tale to Bobbie, Danny made a promise to himself that he would, at the right moment, tell her everything.

1:22 PM: introductions at the motel for Bobbie, Teal, and Connie.

5:06 PM: Danny and Bobbie went outside while Teal spoke to Ted and Connie about the hardware store. It was not something for Bobbie to hear from her, if she had read Danny correctly. Standing by the motel pool fence Danny looked down at the ground wondering how to broach the subject of a relationship. "We got a long fine at the diner."

"And, that counts as a first date?"

"Yep, and a darn good one, if I might say. You got to take a fictitious plane ride and ate pancakes while listening to good romantic music on the 'Cafe la' Highway's' fabulous sound system. Then, you met the family and finished with a gourmet meal at 'Hotel Dreamland'."

"You are kind of wacko, you realize that don't you? Besides, the only reason I stayed to eat breakfast with you was Sara Evans on that 'world class sound system,' and you should be kissing your lucky rabbit's foot she was not doing my favorite, _Cheatin_."

"I don't believe in cheating," he moved closer, "nor, do I believe in one night stands," he tilted his head slightly sideways, "frivolous romances, and..." his eyes holding hers, "what's more important, I do believe in what I felt about you the moment I saw you."

Bobbie looked at his hands, they were at his mid-chest, as if in hesitant pause, right hand holding his left index and ring fingers. She smiled and raised her left hand, "Obviously, the Cracker Jacks prize has to be a real gold ring."

"You never know. Do you always look for the prize, or is it the excitement of the hunt?"

"You hunting?"

"You available?"

"You...take it for granted I have time to spend with you."

"Like we agreed when we first met, neither of us takes anything for granted. Besides, when was the last time you spent time away from the office?"

"Last week, a...a friend bought me lunch."

Danny thought, said nothing, thinking. She prodded him, "Hello...you have something on your mind?"

"You."

Bobbie leaned back against the fence, "He's a friend, nothing more."

"I want more than friendship."

"I know; but are you...are we...in a position to talk about that, given the current state of mystery in Tamplation?"

"Yeah, we are."

Teal tapped on the window. Bobbie stood up, grabbed his hand and started them walking back to the house. "Danny, you're so desperate!"

"And, you're so damn egotistical." Taking advantage of the view from the inside being momentarily blocked, he kissed her cheek.

Inside the group gathered in the sitting area; Danny and Bobbie sitting next to each other on the floor; Ted and Connie had the sofa, and Teal a chair. The three looked at the two on the floor. Danny looked up at Teal, "She wants references before dating me."

Teal laughed, "You're living in a motel room, you idiot. Why would a successful woman, a sane human being, want to date a motel room transient...what do you do?"

"Not much of anything."

Teal gave a short response, "Wait!" Bobbie gave a somewhat longer response, "What happened to teaching!" Ted filled in the paragraph, "You said you were a teacher?"

"I started a company, sold it, retired."

Three female voices in unison, "You're rich?"

"Yes," looking at Bobbie. "Is that important?"

"Vagrancy and criminal aspirations are not good recommendations." Teal seconded Bobbie's comment.

"I teach part-time for something to do." The four stared at Danny. "I did not lie to you. I teach, just not as often as you thought."

Bobbie held up her left hand and waved it back and forth. "Bobbie, we just met and you're ready to settle down with me?"

"I just want you to remember I deserve real gold."

Connie looked at Ted. "It's real gold Connie," adding, "but I am, a poor teacher, remember!"

11:01 PM: Teal said good night to Danny and left for her own room, as Bobbie was returning to Danny's. When the door closed Danny asked if Bobbie was there for a good night kiss. "Kind of." Bobbie walked over to the motel room window and motioned for Danny to join her.

She did not turn to face him, just said, "Put your arm around my waist." He did. They stood silently next to each other, Danny waiting for her to speak. Finally, "Tell me about the hardware store incident."

"How?"

"My mom."

"Will you believe me if I tell you I was going to at the right time?"

Bobbie turned her head, looked at his face, and then turned back to looking out the window, "Yes."

And he told her everything, including Atlanta.

When Danny finished his story Bobbie moved into his arms and kissed him. "Timothy Daniel Stedman you were going to wait to tell me this until you knew we were going to consummate our relationship weren't you?"

"You read me like a book..." He was so happy to just stand there holding her.

"Ok Danny, you told me!"

They did.

When Teal had returned to own room she called Tom. She told him that she loved him and they all were fine. "Don't faint, but, Danny and I have discussed the entire odyssey of the Stedman." She told Tom that Danny had explained the full story about the hardware store, about what the wall said, about Atlanta, and the newspaper article that lead to the stunt in the attic. She related how Danny told her how very important she was to him and how he carried the burden that Teal may have blamed herself for his actions; how upset he was when she called him following the Darkness Man episode; how he missed her and the family and watching Ted grow up; how he missed watching Teal and Tom share their lives with each other; and how Danny owns the property. And in the telling Teal, in every word, told Tom how much she loved and needed him.

July 17, 6:30 AM: After her shower Teal sat back down at the table and wrote "Over a period of time all things change, but one... " Teal wanted time to change history. She dreamed it could be so, that the span of time would erase the evil; the blindness to good in the world. Upon rereading the words she decided not to crumble this one; not to hide it from evil eyes. She was tired and knew in her heart Danny was right. She knew the eyes of evil lurking in the shadows – real or not – was a force that had its own weakness. Teal looked across the room to the bed and hungered for Tom. 'Hungered,' such an overused term she thought. One day she would write a book and call it "Teal's Dream." And so were her thoughts when she called Danny's room; a time to face the eyes of evil head on.

6:37 AM: Danny's room phone rang. Teal, in an 'I'm going to tell mom and dad' sister voice, "Hope I did not wake Bobbie?"

Danny moved to sit on the edge of the bed, "So early? Is this call going to cost me?"

"Since I am getting the brunt of the 'is she crazy' looks. You have the task to explain to the others why we are still here and not a gazillion miles away from Tamplation!"

"Alright, since you are older!"

"You know that is not an appropriate thing to say to a woman!"

"Teal...Bobbie and I had a discussion last night after you left...I hear the giggling Teal...we did have a serious discussion, the whole story about me." Bobbie buried her head in the pillow to muffle her own laughter. Turning towards Bobbie, "Bobbie, she knows you're here and, like you, finds humor in serious business."

"Danny, can you give me your attention, you can make up for lost time later."

"OK, what?"

"Good, by the way I really like Bobbie."

"TEAL, when did you turn gay?"

"Still an ass! I spoke to Tom last night and he is going to be back early. So, we need to decide how to conclude our 'business' here. You and I need to seriously think about closure. See you at breakfast, seven-ish, OK with Bobbie?"

"She says I'm still an ass."

"I like Teal...stop looking like that, I meant I like her as...you're an ass!"

While Danny was in the shower, Bobbie went to her room.

6:41 AM: Ted felt the hand on his shoulder, soft, warm tender. He thought of his Mom and how she would wake him up for school and almost said 'aw Mom, please let me stay home.' It was the kiss on his neck that moved Ted's mind from pleasant yesterdays to pleasant today's. He opened his eyes to a dark motel room; blinds closed, curtains pulled tightly together. The lips on his neck moved to his shoulder. Rolling to his left, the hand trace across his body, gliding with his movement. Now on his left side he was looking at Connie's smiling face. She placed a finger to his lips. She read his eyes, "No. I need to ask you something." Ted was not sure what could be so important; the mix of the past day's events were enough to offer a hundred topics. So he lay there quietly letting Connie lead the discussion (?); hoping it was not a real discussion, but a simple yes, or no answer.

"Do you like Bobbie?" The voice was a concerned one.

Ted counseled his words, "Bobbie had an effect on me."

"That's not an answer," concern.

"Not that way. Not like you. No woman could make me want to stop loving, needing, wanting you."

"She is beautiful, built like..."

Ted rolled right, pulling Connie beneath him. His body supported by his left arm, his right softly caressing her cheek. Ted held her silence by the love in his eyes, "Bobbie is going to be my aunt...yes, they may not know it, or acknowledge it...and, even if she wasn't, she is not the woman I want to share the rest of my life with."

Connie closed her eyes, "She caught your attention."

"Bobbie...like sends out a chemical stream that, like you do, that wordlessly, effortlessly attracts me. Thankfully, I am not a bee and I have a say in the matter. I accept your pull."

She opened her eyes, "That was nice; clinical, but nice."

"I want it to be more than nice. I want you. End of discussion."

"Yeah? Prove it!"

They made love.

— **////—**

### Chapter Nineteen

July 17, 2005

9:12 AM: After breakfast the group met back in Danny's his room and he explained the reason for their loitering in Templation. "When Teal called to tell me Ted was coming to Tamplation, I knew the family secret had to end. The plan was to let Ted complete his research and then have one big family get together when he returned home. I never dreamed it would become so complicated. To make a short story shorter, Teal and I figure that the police are right. They feel no one is in real danger, it's just someone trying to scare us away because of old, 'small town' memories. While we don't fully believe them, we can make the best of our stay here. Ted doing his research and taking care of the property...with Ted getting the money." Danny looked at Teal and took her hand. "Closure...too many generations have been affected."

Danny continued, saying the police are 'paying attention' and they would step in if someone actually tried violence, at least that's what Officer Nolluison told him. Nolluison said they should not worry and he would keep tabs on the problem. Leaving Ted, Connie, and Angie with 'sure he will' grins on their faces.

Connie said Angie's visit to Bobbie's fit the scenario Danny had just painted. She added that it was probably good old Chuck who used Angie.

Danny added, as for the individual who left the jump rope for Teal, "He was probably just an ignorant treasure hunter following in the path blazed by Jes Morgan"; and Danny had no reason think anyone still cared about the deaths of Pepper and Harris.

No one asked either Danny or Teal their thoughts on the fact there was no statute of limitation for murder, and Danny was still a witness for the prosecution. If the dead could talk their voices would have joined as one – the Breadman, Fat Billy, the Cookie Lady, Rickey, and, now, Wendell – screaming, "Charenton cares, and he is far from dead history!"

Connie asked about the incident at school. Danny replied, "Since I was the one who left the article in the office, that story is closed."

Ted looked uneasy. Teal caught this, "Ted?"

"Someone may have been in my apartment prior to the incident in the office."

"WHAT!!!"

Ted was not sure who yelled in the room the loudest, "I couldn't find my keys in the morning, and when I came home they were in the bathroom. I did not remember leaving them there; not even going in there when I got home the day before. It was not until the office incident that I really thought about it, and when the campus police said the dead bolt had not been not locked, I was relieved, thinking I was mistaken."

Connie stood up, grabbed Ted's hand, and as she yanked him out of his seat, "Ted, in there," pointing to the bedroom, and her "you can really be academically stupid" was not lost on the others.

Teal looked over at Bobbie, "She has learned quickly how to handle the men in this family."

"Thanks Sis, I am sure Bobbie and I will get along just fine."

"Your welcome."

Teal explained to Bobbie who Millie was and about Darkness Man.

Once Connie and Ted returned, the five started their day by getting back to making sense of the envelope's contents.

2:07 PM: Millie gave a stifled laugh, "The one I thought would be easy became the hard one; the hard one was easy. First the easy one. The 'RO' was Rogers, and the number was Baltimore, Maryland. Based on the match pack, the date is somewhere around 1964 or 65." They were on speaker phone in Danny's room. Millie could hear Ted's breathing miss a beat, "The advertisement on the pack. I asked Mark in Mark-eting...that's always funny isn't it?"

"Yes Millie."

"We going back to you telling me my name?"

"Mil...no, just, we are in kind of a hurry."

"We?"

"We're on speaker phone, remember. My Mom's here in the room."

"Put her on speaker phone for the second part, that way I know you are listening and not drooling over Connie. Hi Mrs. Dantary, and hi Connie."

"Mil..."

"Caught yourself. Anyway, Mark contacted the company, which is still in Baltimore, and they said that campaign ran in the mid-sixties and the firm used match books between mid-1964 and late-1965."

"The person could have been passing through."

"True, however the number was a Baltimore number...and yes, another city could also have the same number, nonetheless I think we have the right place."

"Hold on. No, the green one. OK."

"What, mom dressing you?" Pause. "Ted, it's OK." Pause, "Ted I heard the silent Millie."

"Millie, get on with this please."

Connie, who had been leaning over close to Ted, fell off her chair. Teal mouthed "The poor man who marries her."

"Gee, no fun. As I was saying, the number was from Baltimore, a bar that was located near the race track...wait, the Pimlico area of the city. Problem is, it was a pay phone."

"Shit!"

"Did your mom hear that?"

Looking at Teal, "Yes Millie, and she said I can't have any ice cream tonight."

"Good. The phone company said it was a pay phone; said this was not uncommon in bars and other public places. Guess they did not have cell phones back then."

"Good thing you're not a history major."

"That was a joke Ted, geezzzzzzzzz." Everyone but Ted laughed.

"I did find something interesting about the bar in the newspapers. Judging by the number of times the police were there, the place was well frequented by the city's criminal element. Illegal card games and stolen goods transactions."

"Any murder hints?"

"Who's?"

"I'm asking you ('Millie')."

"Oh," giggle, "There was an article about a fire that the police thought may have been set to cover-up a break-in, but the management refused to cooperate with the police." Ted could hear her rummaging through some papers. "Here it is, quote:

"Detective Samuel Bestguarten said the fire was suspicious, possibly used to cover a crime taken place that night. Meanwhile, unnamed sources indicated to this reporter that out of town individuals were upset with a reputed bag-man who frequented the establishment. One source said valuable property had been stolen and the fire was used to make it appear the property was destroyed in the fire. Another source said 'ashing' the stuff would have been impossible and the property owners were not going to sit on their hands."

"This is a June 17, 1965 article." Millie could not see Danny's face; the others could.

Silence on Ted's end, "You still with me?"

Pause, "Yes, but hold on for a second." Ted looked towards Danny. Danny shook his head and let out a deep breath, turned to Teal, "So much for guessing why Tamplation became so interesting to Death."

"Who was that?"

"My uncle Danny."

"Is the whole family there?"

"A few."

"Are you and Connie getting married down there?" He could feel her eyes.

"No, but we are officially engaged." Ted waited for a response. Ten seconds.

"Congratulations Ted...and tell Connie...wait, she can hear me, congratulations Connie." They thanked her.

Resolve. "On to number two; which was a little tricky. How should I say this?"

Ted's head tilted back and his eyes went shut; Connie followed Ted's lead. Testing the waters, "How tricky?"

"Well, Professor Whitehaven, from the English Literature program, wants to speak to you when you get back, tricky."

"WHAT!"

"Oh lighten-up Ted, I was joking. He said, quote, 'Your boss has a most interesting reading curiosity.' I told him you like to read this stuff in the men's room."

"YOU WH...at..." catching himself, "Very cute Millie."

"He laughed."

Connie almost fell off her chair again.

"You really said that?" The others were all ears.

"Well it boded well with what he said with his eyes when he answered my questions. Remind me to never take one of his classes."

Ted relaxed. The assembled relaxed, but their faces read 'Ted is having one hell of a conversation.' Teal and Connie were far more tuned-in than Bobbie and Danny.

"Please Millie, tell me about the writing."

"Ted, no joke, this one was not easy. First the French was old and I could not find it easily. But Professor Whitehaven has more resources and he called a friend in Philadelphia who is a French literature specialist. The work it is from _Misfortunes of Virtue_. His friend thinks it came from a cheap French language edition, circa 1950's; although not necessarily printed in France, and probably a poor translation into French. Wonder why. I mean, what are they suddenly prudes that have to import their own literature? Anyhow, the work is by the Marquis de Sade, born 1740 and died 1814."

"That's it?"

"Well, yes. I e-mailed you his bio. I also had to listen to a long story about de Sade and how the piece you have is about Justine, and how she was persecuted for her steadfast virtue, while her sister Juliette reaped rewards for being...excuse my French here...a slut...and that's being kind."

"Good one Millie."

"Thanks, I liked it myself."

"The writing?"

"NO, the...OK you just did good, Ted."

The rest of Millie's findings were less interesting.

The group discussed what Millie had passed on. Connie told Ted she was not going with him to the library to read de Sade. Teal remarked that it was highly doubtful Tamplation shelved the _Misfortunes of Virtue_. Danny pointed out that in the sixties there was a rash of explicit publishing available in the US, such as de Sade's more graphic work _The 120 Days of Sodom_ ; and contemporary works by that famous author 'Anonymous' were also readily available. Then the obscenity laws reined anew.

Danny added "The new bookstore might have it," looking at Bobbie.

"Don't look at me, I have no desire to read de Sade. Besides, if I want to see graphic sex I can always go down to the pet shop and watch the gerbils."

Teal gave a little cough.

"Something funny Sis?"

"Just wondering what type of courses you teach."

"It takes a mind in the gutter to think something like that about their brother."

Bobbie reached out and ran her fingers through Danny's hair, "You're an easy target."

"Thanks," looking at Ted, "women!"

Connie moved her chair closer to Teal and Bobbie.

An hour later, "Now what?" as Ted pushed his chair back from the folding table they had borrowed from the motel office. So they had this new information; or was it 'knowledge.' Knowledge was data assigned some meaningful value.

Ted closed his eyes, "What are we looking for?" No one responded. "Folks, we have a pile of evidence collected by trained detectives who were at the time, and not to excuse them, handicapped by not having Internet searching and college professors that read obscure French pornography. Nevertheless, they were unable to make heads or tails out of the stuff. And I hate to say it, the current State Police are probably not going to find a killer who was sent to town by someone in 1965." Eyes open, looking from Teal to Danny, "We have no named objective here; unlike the cops that were looking for the person who killed Pepper and Harris." Teal sat upright and started to say something, but Ted continued, "Mom, Danny, what are we doing? Looking for the person who is directing this play?"

Bobbie tossed the sheet of paper she was reading onto the table, "He's right."

Ted straightened up, and to Connie, "What's with the lemonade scrunching?"

Connie was listening, but felt left out. She empathized with Ted; not that she wanted to hear a wall talk or meet some stranger in an attic. Even more so now that someone had possibly watched them have sex. "Bad memories Ted."

"Me?"

"You're too sensitive Teddy; no, mister beer can."

It was Teal who spoke what was on their minds, "I doubt the killer is still in Tamplation." Seeing Ted's concerned face, "Yes Ted, someone is making life here this week, difficult for us. But, the big 'but,' I believe the killer is long gone Tamplation, and I doubt he would play a childish prank like leaving the jump rope. Nor do I feel the jump rope man traveled out of Tamplation to pry into Ted's research and his life."

"Gee, Teal that makes the soon-to-be Mrs. Dantary feel comfortable knowing there are at least two psychos out there."

"Connie's right Mom."

Danny started collecting up the papers, "Well at least we have succeeded in expanding our net of places not to visit: Tamplation, Ted's office, and his apartment."

— **////—**

### Chapter Twenty

July 25, 1965

July 25, 1965 was one of the hottest days in Tamplation history and the sweat factor was unbearable for Rickey, who concentrated on driving while Donatien, sitting to his right, fiddled with the radio and rambled on and on. "I wrote a letter to the editor of the local newspaper once asking why we had to pay for home delivery when the paper's advertising should cover the cost to print the thing. You would think the paper would be free. No, the shit-ass writes back saying advertising revenue only keeps the subscription price reasonable. So I wrapped an old raw fish from the grocery in the fucking paper's comics; a good size one, didn't want the ass holes to think I was cheap. Mailed the fish to the Advertising Manager, with a note attached that said 'work harder!"

Ricky just went through the motions of pretending he was paying attention, because, to be sure, Ricky had no idea why anybody paid for a paper. Ricky just lifted one when he needed to look at the track odds; other than the ponies, what good was a newspaper? Oh yeah, he thought, when you need something to clean steamed crabs on.

Donatien rambled on and on, and there was no way for Ricky to grasp this was how Donatien relieved stress. More importantly, Ricky missed the slight hesitation in Donatien's voice. What started out to be another shoot the breeze story was the first kink Donatien noticed in his own armor. Even though Donatien sounded like he had not missed a beat when he went from the paper story to one about the guy who tried to rob a mortuary, the hesitation that Ricky missed was when Donatien realized he had told Ricky something about his history. Donatien had no history. The two met and departed on this job; end of story. The more Donatien thought about the slip-up, the more he came to the realization that Ricky may be piecing together the little bits and pieces. By the time they had passed through Mayfield, Donatien knew Fair Oaks would likely be the last place on this earth Ricky would ever visit. As they entered Fair Oaks Donatien decided it was time for a change of name.

Name changing was not for Wendell Tiggs. No, Wendell Tiggs was what Wendell was; nothing more, nothing less. Sitting at his favorite spot on the street – current home to the finest establishment in Fair Oaks – Wendell moved his eyes left to right following the Ford. Something about the Ford had caught Wendell's attention. "No tourist," raising his hand to adjust his hat. "More to a wan-a-be police car." When the Ford passed from view Wendell held his stance and train-of-thought. The two white men in the Ford had a police look about them. Maybe to the general citizen the Ford and the two men inside would have gone unnoticed, but not to Wendell. He had a good reason to notice the Ford, lest someone interrupt his girls from working.

It was Pepper's idea to borrow the Ford from his cousin. Harris cared not one iota what car they took to Fair Oaks. "Hell Pepper. You're too spooked. No one's going to give a shit if they see us."

Turning the corner onto Broadway, the two off duty Tamplation police officers paid little attention to the neighborhood itself, concentrating instead on finding a parking place near the bus station.

Wendell had already sent his runner to the back of the house to watch the alley which exited across Broadway. Little Sammy was only fourteen, yet already had years on the job; having started at age seven. In two years, if he lived, Little Sammy would no longer be useful as a runner, because at sixteen he would be eligible for jail time; the bane of childhood on the streets. The thought of unemployment was not appealing to Little Sammy, so he was determined to work his butt off for Wendell in hopes of securing a real job, like stoop sitter. Wendell had to be confident that Little Sammy would be smart and loyal.

Little Sammy of course arrived at the backdoor after the Ford had passed the alley, so he was relaxed; that is until his eyes saw the Olds slow down just as it nosed up to the alley. No one had to tell Little Sammy the Olds was following the Ford. He was watching the Olds when Wendell came up behind him. Little Sammy motioned towards the Olds. "No shit," Wendell adjusted his hat, "Cops tailing cops? Don't make the number. You just see what's going down...be a shadow!"

Little Sammy moved quickly, but carefully, and was at the corner by the time Rickey climbed out of the Olds. Little Sammy kept walking, crossing Broadway without so much as a noticeable glance in the direction of Rickey. He walked up the alley and entered a backyard two houses up. The small yard was protected by a high fence covered in foliage; blocking the view of anyone not standing at the gateway. Little Sammy knew where to watch from and he noted that Rickey had moved to a spot just across the alley from the Olds and was probably watching the Ford, which was probably parked. Little Sammy also noted the passenger in the Olds was looking in his direction. Whoever he was, thought Little Sammy, he was street smart. It was time to pull stakes – as his uncle the Carney would say – and Little Sammy ducked into the house to call Wendell.

"You been made?"

"He's no cop, smarter."

"You stay put...use the house next door and see what the cops is up to!"

Moving through the interior passageway that someone before Wendell had cut into the corner house next door Little Sammy took up a watch at a second floor window that faced the station. No one had to tell him the Olds passenger would suspect as much. He was not so sure of the guy on the sidewalk, and had no fear of the two dumb cops from the Ford. Little Sammy had to be careful about the guy still in the Olds, if he was still in the Olds, so he had let the dogs out...they would bark at the sound of raindrops. From his window perch Little Sammy saw the Ford was parked on Broadway and empty; while Rickey was watching in the direction of the bus station one block down.

The phone rang. It was Wendell asking for an update. "The Ford still parked empty. Olds man is on the station, standing on the Way. Don't like the passenger, he's smart, caught him watching me."

"You be real careful. Don't try to fox the man."

Fifteen minutes later Little Sammy called Wendell to report the two cops had returned from the station and were sitting in the Ford counting what appeared to be money. The Olds man was back in the Olds and the two were watching the Ford.

Wendell started to do the math. He called Tip Top, an employee who was new to the area, thus not very recognizable, and had him ride his bike past the two cars and get the license plate numbers. By the time Pepper and Harris pulled out of their parking spot to drive back to Tamplation, Wendell had a plan.

Wendell had a plan. Wendell could tell the two in the Ford were up to something, and figured the two that tailed them knew this. More importantly, the two in the Ford were probably cops wanting to keep secret their find; which was going to be, for them, hard to do. Wendell needed to act fast, as he was sure the two cops would not be the type who could keep a secret for very long.

Tip Top returned saying the two in the Ford had smiles as wide as Tammy's when "she got to feast her eyes on my tool."

"When she feasted her eyes on the bills you tossed her, maybe."

Wendell's plan started with finding out who owned the Ford. It would be easy enough, although it would take a few hours.

The two in the Olds however worried Wendell. The guy who stayed in the car had made Little Sammy. He was going to have to keep awake on that one. Hopefully the guy will think Little Sammy made the cops and was protecting the business. Whatever, it still meant Wendell had to do something with Little Sammy, who was now a liability. Reason one, the kid had been made by the Olds; shit happens. But, more importantly, Little Sammy was smart and he knew cash was involved. So Wendell called Little Sammy and told him he had done a wonderful job and for his reward Little Sammy was going to Tamplation to learn how to be a stoop sitter. Tip Top agreed that sending him there was smart. The place was out of sight and out of mind. Little Sammy packed his stuff and was driven to Tamplation.

As Little Sammy was hearing the good news, Pepper and Harris were on their way back to Tamplation. The two kept punching each other in the arms, as they went from giggling to spontaneous laughter. They had scored the big one. They were rich and they were acting like two seven-year-olds left alone in a candy store. Nor were they well-trained police officers who would have seen the traps and pitfalls, the total weakness of their plan; and, of course, Donatien and Rickey following them back to the village. Pepper had said to wait an appropriate amount of time after the Breadman had died before going to Fair Oaks. Waiting had only served to make Donatien angrier because he had to hang around 'Hicksville.'

As Pepper and Harris congratulated themselves, Ricky had to listen to another story from Donatien; something about a letter signed by the king that could imprison a person without a trial. If Donatien was correct, and who was Ricky to question him, this king would sell the letter to you and you got to write the guy's name on a blank line. A frustrated Donatien had used the term _lettre de cachet_ and then spent five minutes explaining a 'seal' and why a king could get away with this.

Pepper and Harris drove to Harris' apartment, stashed the money and went to Kay-Bob's to eat and talk to Peppers' cousin Fat Billy. Pepper said it would be good to act natural for a while and Fat Billy would be suspicious if they did not thank him for the loan of the Ford. Fat Billy thought the two were scoring a little ass in Deplane, which was in the opposite direction of Fair Oaks.

Pepper was ordering his second slice of peach pie, as Donatien retrieved the money from Harris's apartment.

The two cops returned to the apartment around eleven that night and stood stunned when they opened the door and saw the place was trashed. They wound-up sitting on the floor the rest of the night staring at the empty box that had contained the money. The next morning Pepper's wife asked how was fishing, and Pepper snapped at her so hard she threw a pan at him and went to mom-ma's for the rest of the day.

Meanwhile, Donation and Ricky settled in at their transit quarters to see if someone would lead them to the diamonds. The money was 'in the mail' to New York.

Wendell never got to action his plan. He got busted the following afternoon and would spend twenty-three days in jail. Pepper and Harris were by then dead, and Wendell knew when to stay low and forget what happened. He also was glad he spent the time in jail, because it saved him from being the prime suspect responsible for the body of an unidentified drifter, courtesy of Donation, that was found in one of his houses.

July 26, 1965 had been a lucky day for Fat Billy. The anonymous guy who paid for information on the Breadman needed more info; who ran the ladies in Tamplation. That was easy, some dude named Wendell out of Fair Oaks. Donatien had made Little Sammy, happily sitting outside a Tamplation motel in a heartbeat; Ricky was oblivious.

If anything could have gone wrong...Donatien enlisted the help of Fat Billy for a second time. Fat Billy was smarter than Ricky, and had been able to elicit from the Breadman enough info to figure out that he was hiding something from a guy out of New York. Unfortunately, Fat Billy was dumb enough to respond to Donatien's request for a vehicle for the Breadman, by towing the first car he saw on the lot – the one with the brake fluid leak – to the place picked out by Donatien. The only reason Donatien had not offed Fat Billy was that the diamonds were still missing and this Fat Billy was the only person in Tamplation that seemed to know what was happening on the streets.

On July 28, 1965, at 3:10 AM, Rickey was dead as dead could be; fly food in the cellar of a house in Fair Oaks. The body would not be found until late-October when a vagrant stumbled on it. A Fair Oaks detective would show Wendell a photo of Rickey, asking if Wendell had ever seen the murder victim. Wendell doubled his effort to stay out of the spotlight, and eventually opened a legit store. Everything would have been fine for Wendell, except for Fat Billy stirring the pot.

Donatien had thought he left Tampation behind on the morning of July 28, telling the people in New York the diamonds were not found and Rickey was not going to be a problem. They were upset, but trusted Donatein.

About a year after the tragic deaths of Pepper and Harris, Fat Billy was talking to Ned who, in passing, said it was nice that the Stedman kids got to visit the Cookie Lady before she died. Fat Billy was not sure what that had to do with finding out what Pepper and Harris were killed for, but they were killed in front of the Stedman house. Fat Billy figured whoever killed the two was sending a message that the house was off limits. Fat Billy decided the killer had laid a trap at the Stedman house to take care of the cops, and arranged the bodies to send a message to scare people away from the place, or at least keep some stranger from finding the 'package.' Fat Billy had no idea Donatien's message was for the Stedman kids; to protect himself from a potential witness who had overheard his plans to kill two people. When Donatien heard that Fat Billy was poking around, he happily took care of the Fat Billy situation in the attic. How strange coincidences are.

Donatien nevertheless kept tabs on the place, to include contacting Wendell in the early eighties as another set of eyes and ears. But drifting had become tiresome, so 'William Barrette Gibson III' settled down, aced his PhD – dissertation on phonophobia in adults – and would eventually use the road experiences as background for the psychology book he wrote in 1998; just before being named chairman of the University Psychology Department.

Had he been a psychopath per society's recognizable description, he would have killed again; but he was not. Unfortunately for the Stedman he was a psychopath nonetheless. Tap, Tap, Tap.

— **////—**

### Chapter Twenty-One

July 17, 2005

Angie and Chuck ate breakfast in silence; silence had been the mutually agreed on atmosphere since Chuck had returned from his mysterious excursions on the evening of the 14th and on the morning of the 16th. Angie had no idea where Chuck had gone; just that he had to run errands for the Lodge. As Chuck left the house to open the diner, Angie mumbled to herself "Sure Chuck, I wonder if it involves Fair Oaks." Angie felt Chuck was unfaithful; there had to be a woman in Fair Oaks. She was not aware the person he met in Fair Oaks had been Wendell. Once Morgan died, the two met openly in Tamplation. Nevertheless, that did not stop Angie from believing there was another woman. The fact Chuck knew about the place they had eaten at was proof; irrational, but to Angie, proof enough.

The day before, when Chuck tried to follow Bobbie to the airport, he returned in a bad mood. The bad mood actually started the moment he heard Wendell had been killed. "That SOB was such a looser!" to himself, but overheard by Angie.

"Chucky, he was killed in a robbery."

"Shut up!"

"What?"

"Sorry."

"No you're not."

"OK, so leave me alone."

An hour later he made up and asked Angie to call Bobbie. "I need you to ask her about what the Stedman kid was after."

"Why?"

"I like Bobbie, and I would hate to see her hurt by messing around with the Stedman."

"BS!"

"Ok, I like to buy you nice things and I want to find what belonged to Ned before he does!"

"Chucky, I appreciate you wanting to find Old Ned's money, but Bobbie doesn't have a clue about it."

"How can we be sure?" He saw her reaction and knew she still hated him for using her to introduce Bobbie to Morgan. She blamed him for Morgan's actions, and she blamed herself, as well.

"Angela, please."

"Don't sweet talk me Charles."

"Would I do that?" taking her around the waist.

"Yes."

"Please?"

She hated him, loved him, despised him, and needed him. "OK, what do you want me to do?"

Angie called Bobbie. Chuck was not pleased with the results of Angie's visit on the 15th. Thus, his impromptu excursion on the morning of the 16th to the airport. Although Bobbie had eluded Chuck at the airport, he never doubted she had gone to California.

It was the call from Wendell's cell phone that made a bad day intolerable. Chuck thought it had to be the police; who else would make the call? The police investigating Wendell's death did not bother him, however there was another situation to deal with. He had to take action, and this time it would be smarter than the jump rope stunt or the surveillance at their motel. And he had to stop the drinking 'on the job;' laughing to himself. That beer can had rolled under the car too fast for Chuck to grab it. Thankfully a truck was passed on the highway, muting the noise of the beer can hitting the hardtop and as it rolled under the car. He was pissed, more ways than one.

The beer can that rolled in front of the three 'shits' was number seven since he had arrived at the motel. When the three ignored the can he breathed easier. And Chuck never gave a thought to anyone caring about the can left on the patio table; "Screw the cleaning crew."

July 17, 2005, 7:30 AM: The plan was simple enough, he would go to the motel and wait until one of them separated from the herd then beat the crap out of whomever the lucky bastard happened to be alone. The problem wasn't beating the crap out of someone smaller than he was. The problem was the three assholes had moved; cleared out of the motel for places unknown. He knew they were still somewhere in the area because he saw the older one's rental out on Timberlake Road. The car went by too fast for Chuck to look inside, as it passed by the time it mentally clicked. So, the hard part would be finding the three, while the easy part would be to kick ass. Chuck was using the 'silence time' between Angie and himself to reason out what to do. He was also still trying to reason out who called him from Wendell's cell phone; had to be the police.

9:32 AM: While Ted and a dutiful Connie drove over to the bookstore, Teal and Bobbie were sitting in the motel lounge drinking coffee. Bobbie idly stirred hers. "Explain to me how you're staying so calm in the midst of a...a, damn, I don't think words can explain what this is."

"You would have a different opinion if you had seen me in the parking lot, car against a light pole."

"Quick recovery."

"Danny, he's here."

Bobbie almost looked, then realized what Teal was saying; "Ted's a lot like Danny, isn't he?"

"Yes and no. Danny always held everything inside. Not Ted; he lets you know. Then, he has Danny's strength. When I was a kid I depended on Danny's strength." Teal saw the question forming, "Danny tried to kill himself not out of weakness, but to protect me. He was too young, too naive to know death was not the answer. Yet he was strong enough to choose the best way he knew could protect me."

"From a, yes cold, medical standpoint. Not everyone would see suicide that way. I doubt those that tried to treat him were much help."

"He learned quickly. And, so did I. Bobbie, I was lost without Danny." Teal looked away from Bobbie, then back, "Funny isn't it. Danny had the strength to accept death, and then he had the strength to be apart from me and the family."

Bobbie nodded. She had been looking at Teal showing full attention. Without breaking that trust, "Are you concerned I will take Danny away again?"

Slight pause, "No. So direct, you gave me a start there."

"Sorry, hope I was not too blunt."

"The way you two look at each other is...blunt."

When they rose from their seats they hugged, "Welcome to the family."

"Thanks."

"You may want to hold back on the thanks, we're still stumbling through a slasher movie."

"Poor choice of words."

"Hope so." They laughed. "And, don't fret about Danny. Let me tell you about the wonderful five-year old clown of a brother..."

Back in Tamplation it was going on 1 PM when Chuck hit on an idea; for Chuck it was a stroke of pure genius. Telling Angie he was going to the post office – which in truth was half right – Chuck ducked out of the diner and went to his car. He called the local car rental company and identified himself as a representative of the shopping center's insurance company. "Apparently a Mrs. Dantary struck one of our light polls with your rental. The poll was not damaged, but we would like to contact her – since the poll was on shopping center property – to verify there were no injuries, to the driver, Mrs. Dantary." This was the most successful con Chuck had ever pulled off. When he hung up he had a phone number and a motel name, thanks to Teal contacting the rental company from her new motel to check on the status of her accident report. Chuck was ecstatic! He never thought it would be so easy. Now with an address, Chuck would drive out and check on the three shits.

1:12 PM: Of course Angie was none too pleased that Chuck had taken off, 'for the post office' her ass, and she decided that if Chuck was going to slip out for some bimbo she would slip something to Chuck. Telling the cook that she needed to run back to the house Angie did just that. Her plan was as smart as Chucks; she would scare the bajeezzees out of him. So tonight, when Chuck was dead asleep, Angie would wake him saying there was someone in the place. Chuck would take his .45 CAL from the night stand to investigate – good old macho Chuck – and when he returned to the bedroom Angie would say something like 'next time you go doe hunting check for ammo,' because she knew Chuck never checked. 'Gee Chuck, you would have been standing there balls to the wind if there had been an intruder, wouldn't you! Doe hunting can be dangerous!' As Angie unloaded the weapon she smiled to herself thinking, what the hell, it could just put an end to his doe hunting.

Later that day Chuck said he was going to look for new fishing line and at the bass boats, and would probably get something to eat while out...until whenever. Angie had the unshakable feeling this would be Chucks last time 'looking at bass boats, or going doe hunting for that matter.'

4:09 PM: The five left the motel and went to a local place for an early dinner. Teal wanted to know what the rush was for. "Danny you have something to do back at the motel?"

"No! Just thought Bobbie and I could have some talk time."

"What, sign language."

"Why is it you always bring sex into the conversation."

"I just asked if it was sign language."

"Mom, cut him some slack, he is paying for dinner."

"Who said I was paying for dinner?"

Teal playfully punched Danny in the arm, "Bro, you are the deep pockets around here. And, Ted honey, move your glass back."

"Thanks Mom, but I have Connie now to remind me to sit up straight at the table."

"In your dreams; if Teal wasn't able to train you, don't expect me to. There is nothing in the marriage vows that talks about 'mothering thy husband'."

"I don't need mothering." A minute later Ted swung his arm to make a point, and the point was his drink landing on Bobbie; blouse and pants were soaked; soaked through to her bra and panties.

Bobbie took it in stride, "It's easier to get out than blood." Danny asked how often she came home covered in blood, "Not often, only from the free clinic."

When they all arrived back at the motel around 6:00 PM, Chuck was away from his post taking a leak. Bobbie declared that she needed to get some more clothes and, after quickly changing, she and Danny left on a shopping expedition.

6:20 PM: Having waited around the motel for two hours Chuck was finally rewarded. It was Bobbie! "Well shit in a hand basket!" He had no idea who she was with, but he could care less. He could not believe his luck, "Of all the F'en things. The bitch is still in town, playing me for the F'en fool."

Danny drove slowly out of the lot. Chuck waited, then eased out of the lot behind them at a respectable distant. Joking to himself, "Hope to shit, the ass is not going to Simplicity Lane." Chuck laughed, "I'd hate to add to the places spookiness by trashing them there." Even with his bravado, a chill went up his spine just thinking about that old house. Maybe Chuck put on a good show for Angie, nonetheless he was no different from the rest of the village and would have echoed Angie's words to Ted about the place being beyond spooky; it was downright scary.

As their odyssey progressed in the direction of Tamplation, Chuck started to relax. Once they pulled into the strip mall, Chuck waited to park until they got out of their car; then he pulled into a spot where he could see them enter a store.

Sitting in the car, Chuck was pondering his next move. He could wait outside and pound the crap out of her when she walked out, or maybe force them off the road on their way back to their motel. It was his cell phone ringing that brought Chuck back to reality. Looking at the displayed number he saw it was Angie, 'no sweat.'

But before Chuck could say more than "Hi sweetie," Angie laid into him, "Where the hell are you?"

"I'm looking at...bass boats."

"Bullshit Chuck! Bull! Margaret called me...called me for a joke. Asked if you and I took the honeymoon suite at the Holiday Inn, or were you being cheap."

"Angie..."

"Cut the crap Chuck. Guess you decided to go doe hunting instead!"

"Angie..."

"Don't bother Chuck...and don't bother coming home tonight...or any night!"

Chuck felt as if he had been slammed to the mat and the Ref was already at six, seven... He stared through the windshield at the store. Bobbie was now visible, standing in line to pay. Chuck, anger rising, saw his life coming to an abrupt end. It was the bitch's fault. She was the one who killed Morgan. She was the one who gave Angie those uppity ideas. SHE put the whole treasure thing in jeopardy. In an angry run, Chuck flew from the car and into the store.

His face now in Bobbie's, he called her a fucking whore; called her the destroyer of his life. The other customers moved back. Danny heard the shouting and rushed to Bobbie, who was being pushed against the counter by Chuck's body; her right hand still inside her bag from digging for loose change.

"Get the hell away from her!"

But Chuck was beyond threats, he was in Hell. He did a fast look at Danny and instantly knew this was the queen bitch's brother; the jump rope-man himself! Chuck did step back; back far enough to pull the .45 Cal from the small of his back. Time froze in the store with the exception of the clerk pushing the silent alarm button before ducking below the counter. Automatic pointing at Bobbie, Chuck motioned for Danny to move next to her so he could watch them.

When Chuck was once again able to speak, he spewed more spittle-laced obscenities and condemnations: about Bobbie, who had ruined his life, "You have a nice office, bitch;" at 'Jump Rope Boy,' who ruined the village, "Your sister really liked the jump rope I left for her." He ranted at Angie; at the world in general.

In what seemed like an eternity to Danny and Bobbie – yet only a minute or two – the local police officer assigned to the evening hours for the mall came rushing into the store. Had his gun been drawn it would be a true Mexican standoff. Danny and Bobbie – sides pressed together – facing Chuck, the officer, service weapon still holstered – trying to contain his own fear – facing Chuck, and Chuck trying to keep all three in his line of sight. "Mr. Ertzler, put the gun down!"

"Put yours up your ass, Gant."

"Mr. Ertzler, please put the gun down!"

Chuck stepped back another foot so he could better view the officer.

"Dr. Hess, are you ok?"

Chuck answered for her, "What the fuck you think this is Gant! She's one step from being on a slab...the bitch ruined my life... and the piece of crap next to her...he's not going to walk out of here either..."

Chuck had totally lost it; a tortured soul slowly drifting from planet earth. The automatic in his outstretched hand was making small circles as Chuck tried to maintain his aim on Bobbie. She recognized his state and knew Chuck was beyond reasoning.

Officer Gant moved in a blink of an eye, lunging at Chuck's gun hand, pushing the gun upward as he tried to shove Chuck back into a display. As they fell backwards it was Chuck who won the momentary advantage and twisted the gun so it pointed at the officer.

The sound of the discharge was deafening in the confines of the store. Chuck was slammed back by the force of the round hitting him mid-side. He slumped down to the floor, eyes looking at Bobbie is dismay, grimacing in pain. Officer Gant regained his balance and pulled his service weapon pointing it at Chuck. There was no need. Chuck was dead; his last thought being, 'she had never removed her hand from her bag.'

It would soon be discovered that Chuck had only one round in the weapon. Angie had removed the clip, but she forgot to remove the round that was chambered. She would be torn between anger that her mistake almost got innocent people killed, her love for Chuck, her friendship with Bobbie, and a mountain of guilt for helping him, staying with him...she missed the Cookie Lady; the Cookie Lady would have known what to do.

Angie's remorse would be future tense; at this moment Bobbie and Danny, not to mention the others in the store, were, to put it mildly, tense and confused. This was not an everyday occurrence. Even though Bobbie had been through a shooting once before, she was, naturally, shook-up. She and Danny were holding hands sitting on some folding chairs the store manage brought out. The police took their notes and said "Please stay in the area, we will need to re-contact you for the inquest;" as if Chuck would be lodging a complaint and the participants would have to refund his life. An hour later, and feeling a whole lot calmer, Bobbie told Danny she needed something more than another cup of coffee and it would be too uncomfortable to sit on his lap on the folding chairs.

One of the officers came over and said they could leave, but Bobbie's gun would have to be retained as part of the investigation. As the stood, "That's okay, I don't need it anymore," looking at Danny.

"Bobbie...thank you for what happened in there."

"You mean saving your life?"

"He would have shot you first, so you were defending yourself."

"You just don't want to admit I was right about being here to defend you...macho thing?"

"Okay, you were right."

"And?"

"What?"

"You forgot the part about 'right for you,'" she lowered her head, eyes looking up at him. Danny took her in his arms and explained how he felt with his lips.

Danny called Teal and told her what had happened, and what Chuck said about Bobbie's office, the jump rope, and being at their motel. Once back at the motel, the five relaxed the best they could under the circumstances. Maybe life in Tamplation could go back to normal after all.

10:12 PM: It was dark when Adel Glendale, standing on the sidewalk in front of the apartment building, hefted the bag of groceries, preparing to climb the steps. She was late getting home. She had been late leaving the quilting club for the store, having been engrossed in the news reports about the incident at the shopping center. Adel could not get over the fact Angie's Chuck was dead. Sure, she disliked him, but she felt bad for Angie nonetheless. And that Bobbie, poor thing, this was the second time Bobbie was involved in gunplay. Adel thought Bobbie was a great doctor and liked to talk to her about the park near the library.

Adel liked the park. At times the flowers would whisper to her, at other times they would sing in the breeze. The flowers were the most special thing Adel enjoyed about the park. That is why she always made a detour through the park on the way to the library. Sure she could take the shortest route, but the flowers were most special. On the morning Ted came to visit Adel, she had made her stroll along the path at least a half-hour before Connie had marveled at the same flowers. Adel Glendale was also in the park at lunchtime when Ted walked with Angie. 'Such a nice young man,' she thought. 'Never liked that Angie's husband Chuck; sneaky fellow.'

Curiosity got the better of Adel and she walked towards the gate to see where Ted and Angie were heading. The cemetery. They went into the cemetery. 'Guess Angie is pointing out family gravesites. Oh well, you're too curious for your own good old woman.' Adel Glendale walked back to the library. However curiosity got the better of her again, and once on the second floor of the library, she went to the window that overlooked the cemetery. Angie and Ted were seated on a bench, talking. Adel thought 'how nice.' That Ted fellow was so polite. She watched Ted and Angie talk and saw Ted stay a while after Angie walked away. A split second before Adel was about to turn away from the window she saw the other man. He was standing a good ways away from the bench, probably hidden from Ted's view by the large trees, but obviously watching Ted from his 'hiding place.'

Adel watched Ted leave and saw the man himself ease towards the exit; Ted was unaware, or at least gave the impression he was. She thought for a second Ted may be in danger and almost banged on the window but 'what good would that do' she realized. Instead, she watched, ready to run to the phone to call 911 should Ted need help. Thankfully the man did not follow Ted out of the cemetery. Instead the man changed direction. Relieved, Adel went back to her desk, pushing the incident into the back of her mind.

10:13 PM: "Would you like some help?"

Startled, Adel Glendale turned to see an older man, sixties, seventies, behind her. "No thank you!"

"Sorry, did not mean to startle you."

He was an unpleasant fellow; his eyes were dark; Adel was visibly scared. It was too late for strangers to be walking the streets; nor Adel, for that matter. In the old days the village closed up, the proverbial rolling up the sidewalks, at 8 or 9 PM.

In an attempt to put her to ease, "Again, sorry to startle you." The man turned to walk away; Adel relaxed. But the man stopped, and once again faced her, "You work at the library, don't you?"

"Yes," holding the bag closer to her chest.

"I saw you the other day talking to my nephew Ted Dantary."

Still anxious, but not as much, "I met him for the first time...only time actually." She was not sure why she added the 'only time.'

"He's on my brother's side, his mom used to live here."

Since the man knew Ted, there probably was nothing to worry about. The man smiled. Adel smiled. He did not move closer, just spoke from where he stood, "His mom left Tamplation when she was very young."

"I know, seems the family picked-up and moved to Atlanta. You from around here?" knowing he wasn't.

"No, just visiting." Again the man did the almost leaving, decide to stay routine, "By the way, I was wondering if Ted mentioned he liked fire engine books."

She thought, 'What an odd thing to say.'

In a half sneer the man reached out with his right hand and taped on the bag, which a frozen in fear Adel Glendale was holding. Tap. Tap. Tap. "If you see him, ask for me if he still likes fire engine books. Thanks." The man with the dead eyes walked away this time.

Adel Mavis-Ann Glendale hurried as best she could up to her apartment and, after she locked the door, immediately called Ted's cell phone. Relating the story beginning with the incident of the man watching Ted from afar. Ted said thank you automatically, hiding his true reaction; his mind was drifting back to the attic. Almost an afterthought, "Ms. Glendale, do you know a Wendell Tiggs?"

"Why yes, the poor man was killed in a robbery the other day. The story was headlines news. Why?"

"Nothing, just heard the name mentioned and guessed it was because of the robbery. Thank you."

Connie had traced the strange telephone call to a Wendell Tiggs. "Great, now I'm getting calls from dead people." While he pondered telling Connie, he called Danny. Danny was the man in the cemetery; he had even cleaned off the bench prior to Ted and Angie going there. Ted did not mention the book or Wendell Tiggs. With Chuck dead they had thought life would be back to normal. The last thing he wanted the others to know was the Wall had now sent him a message. He needed time to sort this out.

— **////—**

### Chapter Twenty-Two

July 18, 2005

Have you ever shut the bedroom door, turned off the bedroom light, closed your sleepy eyes, only to wonder if the dreams you are having are nothing more than a stranger sitting in the dark next to you and whispering words to your subconscious? Tap, Tap...Tap."

2:00 PM. Ted received the final call from Wendell Tiggs' cell phone; it came while Connie was in Teal's room. He followed the instructions, leaving a note for Connie: "Have to meet someone about Tamplation's history. Be back about 5:30, love Ted." It was a dumb note, a dumb idea to go, and Ted could not escape the fact he would in all likelihood regret doing this; yet, in some strange way, Ted knew he had to. People should trust their instincts, Teal had told him. Of course she also said, "If your friend jumps off a cliff, are you going to jump!" Ted was thinking about the fall from a cliff as he walked to his car. "This is dumb Ted, and Connie is going to kill you if you come back alive."

The second call came earlier, before they left for breakfast. The voice said, "While Connie is in the shower, I took the opportunity to call."

"Who the hell is this!"

"Ted, calm down, I said we need to talk. Just you and me. We have a lot to go over in a short time."

"Who..."

"TED, don't waste my time. You want the history of this piss-hole of a town, I will give you history. You'll be fine. Connie will be fine. OK, Ted? I'll let you know when and where later today."

Fear was beyond Ted's grasp as he hung up the phone. It was not a fear of the approaching darkness. It was the caller; he sounded as if he was talking crossly to his child.

Ted had received the first call on the 17th. It was the oddest thing. A voice said "We need to talk. Just the two of us. No one else, you and me, keep this to yourself. And there is a small gift for you outside your door." It was his fire engine book. Ted said nothing to anyone about the call, about the book.

2:04 PM: Charenton left the Blue Honda on a side road. He laughed about this. Simply a force of habit, as there was no longer any reason to cover his movements or hide his identity. He had no desire to change his name again; Charenton was closure. He looked up and saw there were clouds moving in, the sun had receded into the safety behind them, and the air tasted of pending rain. Good theatrics; ominous clouds and pending rain. He had never used theatrics because you were begging for problems when you allowed extraneous things to get into the act. Then, today was different; today he would have some fun. When Charenton reached One Twenty-Three Simplicity Lane he knew he would have time to settle in.

The pond was moving from tranquil to slight agitation as the mood of the weather changed. It was the tree line behind the pond that caught Charenton's attention. The stand, oblivious to the movement of the wind, was death still, as in the totality of death, not simply 'dead' as a synonym for lack of movement. Within the stand were trees that had long crooked limbs that stretched out like arms bent to both beckon you forward and to swoop down and hug the breath out of your feeble lungs. Arm-like limbs that grace the pages of nightmarish stories parents read to their children because of their own ignorance to true evil. And, high on a branch was a lone crow. A big, deep, unforgiving darkness of night-colored, still crow. It was looking at him. Charenton stood and stared back; the crow was unmoving. It moved Charenton. Charenton recognized evil. "Fucking morrigan!" He turned and made his entry up the path to the house.

At 2:45 PM, standing just inside the doorway, Charenton watched as Ted pulled up to the house. "A lot of years have passed," he spoke to himself, "a lot of years." He had seen far too much during his travels and Charenton was tired.

With the engine off, Ted heard the deafening quiet. No birds, no crickets, no life. 'What the hell am I doing here?' he thought.

Charenton watched Ted hesitantly walk through the gate, slow, then walk across the weed infested path to the porch. He followed Ted's progress up the rotted stairs, across the porch and into the house. The house was in shadows, except for spots where the dim sunlight came through the open door and almost glassless windows.

The man facing Ted was average height, dressed in average, but nice, clothes, and was older then Tom. "Before we commence final curtain call, this is for Danny," extending his arm with an envelope in his hand. "Take it, Ted. It's not a bomb...never used a bomb, they're uncivilized. Give this to Danny when the two of you are alone." Ted turned the small envelope in his hand. "Let's hold our conversation in the attic. Brings back old memories, yes?" Ted could not contain the shudder. "Ted, I just gave you a note for your uncle, so obviously you are going to leave here alive! And in good health, if that will make you feel better."

Charenton turned and walked to the stairs. He could almost hear Ted's dread as he slowly followed, mounting the stairs to the second floor and then the narrow stairs to the attic. Ted entered the attic some ten paces behind Charenton. With his back to Ted, Charenton signaled for Ted to stop. A pallid light came through the shutterless dormers.

Turning to face Ted, "By the way, don't give me credit for Chuck, he kind of invited himself to be written out of Tamplation history before I could take care of his treasure hunting problem myself."

"Gee, that makes me feel better."

"Good, that makes me feel more relaxed. Take a seat," pointing to one of two chairs placed facing each other, "we don't have much time. My name is Charenton, not that it matters"

Ted was about to ask a question, he had so many, but Charenton waved the questions away. "Ted, let's get on with the history of Tampaltion. Once upon a time in a galaxy far...what, you don't like humor?"

"Humor does not make a practice of terrifying people for years on end."

"Ted, Ted, I've changed. Remade myself. A one-eighty."

"But you are the same person inside the new clothes."

"Good, the psychologist is awakening."

"Bullshit."

"Ted, a person has options. That's what separates us from the rest of the animals. I decided to change," slight grin, "for the time being." Seeing Ted's reaction, "Yes, somewhere repressed is the old me. Somewhere deep inside is the old me...my past dealings with your family, my dealing in death. It was an avocation, a job, not part of me as you would think."

Seeing that Ted did not accept his explanation, "Look at this as a novel, Ted. No, my one book is a tome on psychology, which you probably have used to keep papers from blowing away. As I was pointing out, when you read a book you want closure. You may hate the ending; but you want the questions raised within answered. You, Teal, Danny, Bobbie are characters in a book...so, this is your closure."

"A book!"

"Ok, a play, since Teal, you, and Danny seem to refer to this as theater of the absurd."

"ABSURD is a good term. We are nothing more than characters in a play?..."

"Ted, I don't give a flying fuck about you, Teal, or Danny! You were bit players in a drama that was beyond your realm of this world. Self-preservation, Ted. It was self-preservation, AND yes, Ted, your personal sacrifices for my self-preservation were meaningless to me."

"So why the past tense?" and Ted was wondering why Connie was not mentioned in the sacrifice venue; nor his father, or grandparents.

"Like I said Ted, I am here purely protecting my interests."

"No underlining, humanitarian mission?"

"You mean spreading love and goodwill amongst the common folk. No. I am here to ensure you, Teal, and Danny do not upset the apple cart any further. The balance of nature."

Ted sought to find some trace of remorse, some fleck of compassion, but knew there was none. Yet, Ted had seen something in Charenton's slight shift in the seat when he used the word love. Was he devoid of the capacity to love? Or was it suppressed, held in check? People need to balance love and hate, good and evil; however Charenton dissuaded common sense.

There was a movie Ted saw back in 1997, _Infernal Affairs_ ; the catalyst that moved him to psychology. The two central characters are young, energetic police rookies. One sent by the police to infiltrate a gang, and the other planted by the gang to infiltrate the police. They are both successful, balancing good and evil, until they learn of the other's presence. The balance of good and evil now becomes the central theme of the film. Can someone solidly function on one side of the balance, while being able to maintain a connection to the side they desire. Before him sat Charenton; was he the center point of the balance, one who cared not for either side? Ted was somewhat wrong; Charenton saw only pleasure and pain. He did not associate good and evil with pleasure and pain.

"Such deep thoughts Ted."

Ted shrugged.

"So, on with the story because time is short. Simply, I am going to die."

"We all are someday," dryly.

"My end is sooner than yours, unless you decide to off it on your own, or a train runs you over. If you're wondering, had Danny succeeded I would not have needed to waste money on the envelope I used to return your fire engine book in."

The remark struck Ted like the cold, calculating, heartless remark it was meant to be. "Ah, now you understand. But enough of the 'why for' and let's get to the 'why now'."

"Yea, lets."

"The note inside the envelope for Danny does not speak of what you have just come to grips with. It's a gift for Danny. Yes, I know I just dashed any hopes you had of some deep repressed humanity lingering in the dark recesses of my soul. Humanity is based on society's values. I have my own. I see no point in caring one way or the other. Life goes on and self-preservation is paramount. Don't silently scorn me Ted. I can do good if I choose to. In this case I chose to talk to you and write the note to Danny." He watched Ted form a silent question with his body language. "No personal gain intended. The note is a selfless act. A gift to Danny for being a survivor."

"What about my Mom?"

"She has Danny again."

"Bobbie?"

"She has Danny and they have already become one."

"Should I ask about Connie?"

"You can, but it's unnecessary. She never figured into this, other than falling in love with you." Charenton noticed Ted's eyes deceived his silence and, while unsure as to what Ted was thinking about, he let it go because it did not concern him anymore.

Refocused, Ted motioned with his hand, flipping his palm up, "Ok, so what do you have in plan for me. Obviously you want something."

"I want you to forget about Tamplantation. Find some other town to study, destroy this house, and enjoy your life. And, of course, I want to ensure that you, Teal, and Danny do not upset the apple cart again."

"Again? You're dying, so why do you care?"

"This is my gift to you, the wisdom of someone who knows the ravenousness greed that was spawned by some unwelcome visitors years ago. That greed, Ted, lives on in the stories told late at night in the bars and around the campfires."

"This sounds like the _Twilight Zone_."

"All fiction is based on truth Ted. My gift to you is the message to cut your ties to this town, move on with your life."

Ted stood, looking uneasy at Charenton, "You're telling me that my gift is some hooky BS about ravenous greed? Why? The treasure Chuck died for?"

"And others Ted." Charenton let Ted remain standing, "You think Chuck was the only one? Morgan died. Those two cops died. The people in the article about the talking wall died. Others you are not aware of died. For what? Greed. Throw a little cash on the table and the balance of good and evil takes a hard tilt towards evil. Yes Ted, that ravenous greed still exists. It exists in places you are ignorant of. Burning a hole in the hearts of people you could never imagine turning cold and treacherous."

"What happened to Templation?"

"You already know. The town had nothing to fall back on when the old lady died. And when the two cops died it was the final bell tolling for the town."

"You killed an entire village!"

"Don't flatter me with credit for this shit-hole place. I may have been the catalyst, but their lack of faith in each other and for the future killed this place."

"Why?"

"Their lack of faith...I have no idea. Why did the old woman die? She dropped dead before person, or persons, unknown, had to kill her. Unfortunately, there were others who sought what was not theirs to seek and they had to be removed."

"The talking wall...was that the reason?"

"No, that was just an incident in the story of Tamplation. Not the start, nor the finish. As I said earlier, someone came to town to hide from demons, but demons found that person anyway. That someone had never heard of One Twenty-Three Simplicity Lane...but, Simplicity Lane found its way into the story...this house apparently likes death Ted. So, take it from someone who knows death, burn it down and turn your back on Tamplation."

"Why should I believe you?"

"You don't have to, I could care less," tap, tap, tap, index finger, nail against the arm of the wooden chair. Ted instantly remembered the first attic, Charenton smiled. "Of course you know that some propose that organisms stop paying attention to stimuli that are no longer repetitive and do not signal an important change? Not to insult your intelligence Ted. Every schoolgirl knows about Mr. Pavlov and his trick with dogs. Establish a relationship between a natural stimuli and a natural reflex. Over time he developed in the test animals an expectation and response. Had he stopped feeding the mutts the relationship would, over time, diminish. The conditional stimulus will only result in a conditional response as long as unconditioned stimulus exists." Tap, Tap, Tap.

"Remove the unconditioned stimulus and over time the conditioned response will weaken. Hope I am not boring you." Tap, Tap, Tap. Response. "Ted, reconditioning, spontaneous recovery." Charenton waits. "You are second-order conditioning."

"How so?"

"This town. Your teal eyes are a second-order stimulus to this town. The moment you arrived, the town reverted to its death posture. Kind of like predator control conditioning for the townspeople to fear death. It was your mother's doing."

"BS!"

"Ted, be academic here. There were several overt things that were associated with its death because the people needed to establish in their minds the stimulus. They knew nothing of the particulars of Danny's suicide attempt which took place after death arrived here. His act was an extension of that death. But teal eyes, so sad, at the old ladies funeral were evident at the time. Thus, your mother's eyes, your eyes, become associated with death. No different than the fox avoiding poisoned dead chickens, then avoids the live ones."

Ted considered this, "The smell of fresh baked cookies."

"Good. To answer your next question, when you walked into the diner, when the older people saw your teal eyes, you were the stimulus of death. And the fear of death brought Chuck out of his hole into the open. Brought too many questions to the fore. I read your research material Ted, I knew you were coming here. I knew what would happen...I just could not stop Danny and Teal from following you. That complicated things. Things got complicated."

"Complicated is an understatement."

"Did I ever tell you about my psychological profile work? Guess not. One of my thesis questions was the quantification of comparing psychological profiles to predict behavior in a group."

"Been done."

"True. However, I delved into 'representation theory.' The quantitative analysis of what your preferences say about your personality and future actions."

"Where is this going?"

"Oh ye of little patience."

"You're the one who said time was a premium."

"It has to do with flawed views about ourselves, more than predicting that Ted will buy a bar of soap colored gold, vice one that is, say, a bar of, fancy milled soap, colored blue." Charenton waited for a reaction and was rewarded by Ted's eyes reflecting a connection. Ted had a bar of gold deodorant soap in the shower, while Connie had her scented soap on her side of the sink, blue. Charenton enjoyed Ted's reaction, even if it was ever so slight. "Ok, back to flawed personalities. You, Ted, are a person who sees themselves as flawed. While in most respects no different than the majority of people, you, as a psychologist, read into your every action. Why do I buy yellow shirts over green ones. Why is my table cloth basic white while...," another eye movement, "oh, yes, let's not forget the cans of soup lined up, labels facing the front and red labels in one row, white ones in another."

"YOU MAde your point!"

"No Ted, you just did. You concealed your anger, not fright. You overcame the 'flaw syndrome' and tried to rationalize. There lies a failing in quantitative personality relationship theories. Some people, how many is questionable, stop and rationalize. Good and evil can be rationalized. To answer your unspoken question, I have never cared to rationalize good and evil, as they hold no meaning for me. You asked why I was here, as if searching for some relationship to what you see as the true force behind my presence. No, as to the possibility, however slim, that I have a spark of 'goodness.' Ted, I care nothing for your family beyond self-preservation. If Chuck had killed Danny, so be it."

"However, Bobbie proved her strength. If it makes you feel better, I did not intend for her to be subjected to Morgan's sexual urges. That was another unfortunate external influence on my plans. While I could not find a Juliett for Danny, Bobbie is more than strong enough for a Thomas de Quincey essay. Fair, don't you think?"

Charenton paused, reflected, "I spent good time developing..." he stopped, thought, "let's say I like Bobbie in an undefined way. And, as odd as it sounds, if Morgan had raped her, he would still be hanging somewhere slowly bleeding to death. Not for his actions, but who he chose to act upon."

Coming from a stone cold killer the words seemed far more ominous than they would in another situation. In another situation Ted would have laughed and turned off the TV; what a ridicules story.

"That's what I give to you Ted. Danny and Teal need you to close out Simplicity Lane for them. Thankfully you have Connie to stand beside you and help with the decision."

Ted sat back down.

"Ted, Danny made the decision a long time ago, just passed the job to you."

"He wants me to burn the place down and sell the land."

"Do it. Be Danny's 'Donatien's Son'."

It was Charenton who rose and moved to towards the steeps, motioning Ted to follow, "You're not safe here alone." The statement woke Ted from his thoughts. "Get in your car and drive back to the motel. Next time you arrive here, I suggest it's with the volunteer fire department. They can use the training and you can use the gaggle for safety."

At the front door Ted almost put out his hand, an unconscious gesture of politeness, "How long do you have?" Chariton did not turn towards Ted, but looked straight ahead at the tree line, the lone crow, "A month at the most. You provided me with a closing engagement for this 'play.' Strange isn't it," looking up higher, "your gift to Teal and Danny was to stumble onto their secret...Burn that tree line as well, if you can make sure that morrigan is ashes!"

Ted straightened up, "Morrigan? That's not French."

"Celtic. It fits this house."

Ted was still puzzled, not just about the name he gave the crow, but the whole story. "I don't believe in coincidences, remember, so your comment about me stumbling onto their secret and about you knowing I was coming here because you read my work does not hold water."

Chariton half turned, looking into Ted's face, "Guess I should have told you I had a year to live."

Ted pulled all his strength, "What is the truth?"

Chariton stared back at Ted, "A month, maybe two. It came to my attention the curtain on this play had to be raised. An audience was gathering and the director had no choice."

Chariton watched Ted walk towards the car. "And Ted, I am quite at ease with who I am. At least I never seduced a virgin sister-in-law. Besides, mother-in-laws can be so unforgiving."

Ted in a flash of mental light, "Who could ever be a true Justine or Juliett...you're what De Sade feared, what humanity cannot fathom!"

"Very good. One cannot have doubts about bloodshed if the regime is to survive. In this instance bloodshed is a tool for my survival."

He watched impassionedly as Ted drive away, "Nor do I have the time to write such wonderful bedtime stories." Reaching into his pocket, Chariton withdrew a folded piece of well creased paper, opened it, to expose the words – words written on a once smooth surface – at a time hidden from the world, now opened to the light of day, and he read them with his mind, because his eyes already understood the letters which formed unintended meaning:

April 10, 2004

Actors Learn

The actors learn

roles

bespoken of life

not theirs intended

but of what is intended

of them

they rehearse

knowingly ignorant of

the director's

true intent

suddenly, the audience simmers

suddenly, the curtain rises

suddenly, the stage lights blinding

suddenly

no longer themselves

but a ?

but mere shadows

shadows reflecting

inwardly

where terror dwells...

shit, this is depressing girl! what are we going to do ????? call Danny!!!

Then he departed One Twenty-Three Simplicity Lane for the last time, thinking out loud, "Officer Nolluison could be a problem."

Ted stopped the car about a mile down to road and shook.

Returning to the motel Ted was greeted by a pissed-off Connie, a red-hot mother, a visibly displeased uncle, and an aunt-in-waiting who had developed great respect for young Ted.

Ted's abridged story now told, "In summary, can we trust him? No, but we have no choice. Professionally speaking I believe he is at the end of his life, one way or the other...natural death, or even suicide." They looked for an explanation. "His name Chariton, the final name." Seeing their blank stares, "The place de Sade died in; an insane asylum in France. Apparently he used a series of names taken from Marquis de Sade's full name, Comte Donatien Alphonse Francois de Sade, and from de Sade's life."

"I have to agree with Ted," Bobbie looped her arm through Danny's. "Is that what he was referring to when he said you could be Donatien's son?"

"Yes, after de Sade died his son burnt his manuscripts."

Teal seemed lost in thought, then "And you get to burn the house for Danny and myself."

"Mom, for the entire family," looking at Connie, then Bobbie.

"He could have killed me. Danny...why do you think he...he did not kill you and Teal in the hardware store?"

"I think he knew it would have brought undue attention to him. He was after more important fish to fry. And yes, I have spent years trying to understand your question. Logically, after so many years no one would link our deaths to what happened in Tamplation."

"So there had to be some importance in keeping you alive," interjected Connie.

"Maybe."

Connie hesitated and then, "What if it was not you...I mean what if it was Teal that was important all these years?"

"Why me? Not that I want to shift the danger back to bro here. It's just implausible that I would be important beyond what we have already established and what this Chariton told Ted."

"Sis, importance may go beyond being a leverage against me."

"Great! Scare the crape out of me again, thanks."

Danny reached out and placed his hand on her knee, "Teal, you may have been safe all this time."

"Monday night quarterbacking?"

He patted her knee, "Of course, we all are at this point. In all honesty the concept of you being the principal subject and me the foil is a possibility." They all looked with a mixture of astonishment and a total lack of understanding where Danny was taking this. "Ok, I heard the wall and I was the one he went after in the hardware store. But, and as Teal likes to say, a big but, he went to a great length to bring Teal into this. Why? What if Teal knows something important. I have always wondered how good a six year-old's testimony would hold up in court."

"It would have to be supported by other witnesses, then" they turned to Bobbie, "what if it was not about the talking wall. Well not directly, because Teal did not hear it, you did."

Danny gave it some thought. "You mean what if Teal was linked to this in some other way?"

"Yes."

Ted raised his hand, "Forgive me for being academic here, but we are dealing with a homicidal maniac, and a trained psychologist, it is plausible what you have been theorizing." Seeing Connie's face, "Okay, in human terms, maybe by putting fear in Danny to stay away from Mom, all this time she focused her fears on Danny. Danny was the one in danger and Mom's only thoughts were why was Danny in danger...because he was the one being chased. And thus, Mom would see the 'obvious,' and not seek out the truth."

"Ted honey, I really do not appreciate you supporting your lame uncle by adding your two scary cents worth. But, I still love my sweet little Teddy...Connie, you poor girl." They all laughed. And that was all they could do.

Finally alone, Connie pushed Ted against the closet door; not saying a word, just looking him forcefully in the eyes. Ted remained still. Easing the pressure slightly, "I should kill you...no, that would let you off too easily. Don't say anything!" The pressure eased a tad, "If I was of sound mind, I would move my hands from your shoulders to your throat so fast the blur would be inconsequential because your lungs would be screaming for air...let alone your heart; which by the way I own...AND THAT IS WHY I AM NOT, N. O. T., going to kill you! Have I made myself perfectly clear?"

Nod.

"Ted, you can speak now, that is if you have something intelligent to say."

"My only fear was not coming back to you...yet, not going would mean I would be only half yours."

Pressure gone, eyes still holding him against the door, "Is it over?"

"Outwardly yes. Inwardly, it will take time."

"Just remember I own your heart and if you ever do anything so stupidly heroic again to harm it, I will." Hands sliding across his neck; they kiss.

Her head rested against his chest. At the open vee of his shirt Ted could feel the tears welling in her eyes, she whispered, "A few days after I ambushed you on the way to school I was sitting at the dining room table eating breakfast and printing your name with hearts and love on my napkin. My dad had come up behind me and silently watched. When I realized he was there I quickly scooped up the napkin. 'You're too young to be moon struck,' in that deep voice of his. Thankfully he went off to work and the subject never came up again...He remembered. The day you spoke to me in the library I called home and asked him how I could tell if I was truly in love. He said 'whose name are you writing on napkins?' I told him yours. All my father had to say was 'poor Ted, what did you do to ambush him this time.' 'Dad, seriously, how can I tell?' ' _Il silenzio di un bacio pui di mille parole'_."

"I was scared that I would not hear the thousand words I needed to hear in the silence of your kiss. Then, at my apartment door after our first date, your hesitant kiss spoke to me. It said you loved me," tears, "it said my heart was yours, yours mine. Your kiss spoke of strength, security, togetherness, love. Don't ever forget that you cannot lie to me. Your kiss, my kiss, will erode to the falsehood."

Hands pulling him closer, "Or you, my lover, may well learn another Italian proverb, one about a woman scorned!"

They stayed in Tamplantation another three days as the police sorted out Bobbie's story and the property was taken care of. On the second day Ted found time to be alone with Danny and gave him the envelope. Danny opened it and found the folded front cover sheet of a biography on De Sade. When he turned it over he saw a note was written in the empty space:

"Bobbie is your lifeline; a life preserver thrown to a man wanting desperately not to be asea. You're on solid land now. You're the answer to her dreams. To put your mind at ease, I was going to take care of Morgan when he sought out Bobbie. She took care of herself; but she is not a killer. She regrets what she did, both times. Your job is to love her, her's is to love you, and both of yours' is to learn to forget. PS., I care nothing for the diamonds."

"He gave this to you?"

"Yes. Why, what does it say?"

"Nothing other than he is going to die and I have the nights to myself again." Danny tore the note into a hundreds of little pieces. No clear answers. Danny sat looking at Ted. The 'why' was only partly answered. He felt he understood the reasoning, the cunning, meticulous insanity of the writer, yet, he still asked himself why. Why Danny Stedman? Until the day he died Danny would ask himself that question. Danny thought about the note and looked again towards Ted. As he stood Danny thought out loud, "We will never know the answer; just know the question doesn't matter anymore."

Ted instantly understood. The two men were generations apart but linked beyond family, genes, and Teal. A look shot between them, as if each read the other's mind.

The Stedman land was sold with little trouble in a matter of hours to the new village developers and Ted, Teal, and Danny split the proceeds.

As for the small wood frame house at One Twenty-Three Simplicity Lane, Ted had approached the volunteer fire department suggesting it become a training exercise. The prospect of burning the place down was music to Chief Basset's ears. Bill Basset had hated the place ever since Wendy Madison – the girl of his sixteen year-old dreams – kicked him in the nuts and said she would rather date a zombie than go with Bill to "that house of Hell." Bill Basset licked his lips as his men prepared the old house for its flaming exit.

Now Bill stood next to Engine Number Two waiting to give the signal to light it up. Damn he felt good; elated was an understatement.

And when the flames had reached as high as the second floor windows, just as the roof of the porch started to sag in under the heat, Bill reached out with his right hand to steady himself on against the truck. No one was looking at Bill; they were all staring at the house. It went up too fast. The place went up so fast they were wondering who screwed up. No way were they going to get inside. They were all mesmerized by the crackle of the flames, the flashes of light as the aged wood became history. No one looked back to see Bill place his left hand against his chest.

Don, on hose three, said to his partner, "That crackling, I swear the house is laughing at us. Hay Bill..." Bill Basset, the fire chief, had dropped dead of a heart attack.

— **////—**

### Epilogue

August 3, 2007

Ted and Connie Dantary came for dinner. Teal took Connie upstairs to give her something. Once inside the bedroom, Teal took a box down from the closet shelf; a sturdy cardboard box with a fitted lid. She handed it to Connie, who was sitting on the bed, "This is the only thing I have from Tamplation. The Cookie Lady gave it to me when I was going on six, just before she died. Poor thing has been cooped up in this box for so many years, so many moves. I would like for you to have it, and when your child, or," looking at Connie's stomach, "maybe children." They laughed. "You can give it to your child when he or she is old enough to understand its value."

It was a nice stuffed elephant, plush and, so, soft. Its tummy was big and when you squeezed it, the tummy had an inner rumpley firmness like elephant tummies should have. One day when Teal had grown too old to play with her elephant, she placed it lovingly in the box; one day the box made its way to an attic. Then different attics as Teal and Tom moved around the country. For Mary Teal, nee Stedman, the stuffed elephant, orphaned the Cookie Lady said, was the only thing she loved and valued, aside from family, about being five years old in Tamplation.

" _Yes Ted, that ravenous greed still exists. It exists in places you are ignorant of. Burning a hole in the hearts of people you could never imagine turning cold and treacherous."_

— **////—**

_Simplicity Lane_ **, is a work of fiction, copyright Steven S. Walsky, 2007, all rights reserved.**

**Contact me at:** _Smashwords_

**My Blog:** _Simplicitylane.Wordpress.com_

