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### PINK

### by Peter J. Ponzo

### Chapter 1

### Pink

### I saw her bathing, inviting evil dreams of lust and desire, and I knew she was the angel of death, sister of the devil, temptress and siren.

### I must rid the world of this harbinger of doom, precursor of ungodliness. Her worldly body must be dismantled so that no eye can behold that iniquitous and cursed carcass.

### And I did find her garbed in pink and I did destroy her.

### Great Lord of the World, Breath of Life, weep not for the damned for I have cleansed the world of the devil's kin.

### Terry Cleaver

### Buck Tormin is a bastard. He's my boss, he wears a black suit, and you can't trust a guy in a black suit. I worked for him for two years but he's no friend. I don't make friends easily. In fact, I have few friends and that's just fine with me. But Buck won't fire me. I've reprogrammed the computer, honed it to the needs of the lumber mill, I'm good at my job and no one could take my place.

### Then the black suit fired me. The bastard.

But it was really her fault.

### The first time I met her was in June, at the pond. It's an old deserted gravel pit, now filled with spring water and I go there to escape the heat. Everyone else in Haversville swims at Moore's Lake, ringed with those crummy plywood cottages and miles of sweaty bodies lying on the sand and two hot dog stands and a ramshackle dancing arena and the oily smell of automobile exhaust.

I swim alone, at my pond, Terry Cleaver's Pond.

### And that's where I first saw her.

It was late Sunday afternoon and I had jogged across Benton's meadow, pushing through the bush, jumping up onto that big grey rock that juts out over the pond. I dropped my shorts then turned to dive into that sweet green pool. Then I saw her. The first thing I felt was anger; she was lying on my rock, my rock, her eyes closed, her feet hanging in the water, her body wrapped in a pink swimsuit so tight you could see her ribs. I could feel the red rising in my cheek. I clenched my fists and stood over her, growling to myself. They say that redheads have fierce tempers. That goes double for me. She was lying on my rock at my pond.

### Then she opened her eyes, slowly, as though she knew I was there - then she sat up. I was standing right above her. She pulled her towel about her shoulders and blushed, just a little. I didn't know quite what to say and stood there scowling, holding my breath, my arms hanging stiff by my side.

### Then she did the most stupid thing ... the most wonderful thing. She smiled and reached up and took my hands, and somehow my anger seemed rather stupid and childish. Then she pulled herself to her feet, still holding my hands, and she leaned against me and watched my face redden. She seemed to enjoy every moment. Then she grinned and closed her eyes, slowly, and fell backwards into the pond, pulling me after her. I didn't think about backing away. It was so sudden, so weird. When I came spluttering to the surface I thought about shouting, about hitting her hard, about pushing her roughly under the water.

### But she was gone and I didn't see her again, not for three weeks.

It was a typical Saturday morning in July, hot and humid, and I crossed the meadow and headed for Cleaver's pond. I thought about that girl a lot and expected to see her the next few times I went swimming. I was even careful not to drop my shorts until I had looked at every rock - but the pond had been deserted, every time. Yet I couldn't get her out of my mind. A crazy girl, pulling me into the water. I had been so flustered, so caught off guard. Yet, she hadn't been frightened or even embarrassed.

### I guess I was smiling as I walked through the bush. When I think of it, she was really pretty neat. I don't really get along well with girls but she was sort of wild and unusual and that was intriguing.

### When I left the tangle of skinny trees by the edge of the pond and jumped onto my rock, she was there, again, and I found that I could barely breathe. I stood for a long while just staring at her, lying tanned on the grey rock, her hair tangled about her shoulders, her eyes closed. She was getting far too much sun. The rock must surely be rough on her skin, a pink smooth skin in a smooth pink swimsuit with ruffled collar. I walked to her side and sat down and gazed at her face. I wanted desperately to reach out and touch her. I stuck out my hand, slowly, and I found myself shaking. I held my hand above her, above that ruffled collar. I was trembling and that made me bloody angry and I could feel my face getting hot.

### Then she smiled and opened her eyes, in precisely that order, as though she knew I had been sitting there and she was just waiting for the right time. I remember sucking in my breath, then I put up both hands as if begging not to be pulled into the water. That was stupid; why did I do that? She giggled and reached out and I stumbled backward to get away and together we fell off the rock.

### And when I came to the surface she was gone, again.

For me it was a curious and novel feeling, frightening, exhilarating. I didn't seem quite in control. My mind wandered. I spent hours just staring at the computer keyboard. My boss complained. I don't like Buck Tormin. Then the black suit fired me. Just like that. And it was really her fault \- the girl with the pink bathing suit.

### Connie Fenton

### I have always been papa's favorite child, carefree and sucking up life like a strawberry soda - or so they say. My two brothers usually ignored me even though we all slept in the same large room in the back of the small cottage. My mother died when I was five; I don't think I remember a thing about her. Papa made little money at the store, but we ate well and laughed a lot.

### I was only eighteen when I decided to leave the cottage and move into town. Papa pleaded with me to stay, but I had made up my mind. Even my brothers seemed a little sad when I left and that made my leaving even more delicious. I would miss them, all of them, but I had a magical life to live and I was going to live it to the fullest.

### After three months working at the dress shop, mostly sewing hems and crocheting fancy collars, I bought a bicycle and went home to Gobles for the weekend. I surprised them all by climbing through the back window and slipping into the bathtub. When they came home from the store, that's where they found me. My brothers dragged me from the tub and spanked me soundly, papa cried just a little - and I drank it all in.

### It was delicious.

### On Sunday afternoon they all stood side by side on the front porch and watched me leave, my brothers trying hard to keep from crying. I can still see it. The image was absolutely delectable.

It was that same Sunday afternoon that I found the pond. It was hot and I could see the dust spiralling up from the front wheels of my bike. I was thirsty but the small bottle of spring water was empty so I stopped at Miller's Creek to fill it. The creek was dry so I sat on the bank and just groaned. I can remember thinking life isn't supposed to be like this. The creek is supposed to be filled with cool gurgling water, waiting for me to stop on my way back to Haversville. There must be water farther up the creek bed. That's the way it should be, just a little farther up, lying in limpid pools amid the cool green.

### So I set out to find it.

### When I came to the clearing I saw the tall rocks and knew that the pond was there, waiting for me, a giant cup brimming with water, cool and delicious. There was a narrow vertical crack which began at the top of the rock and widened as it descended. From the bottom of the crack, nearly three feet wide, the water trickled slowly out of the pond into Miller's Creek.

### I ran to the opening and looked through. I was Alice and I looked eagerly through the looking glass. It was frightening, mysterious.

Just beyond the crack in the rock I could see green bushes, but beyond that there was a giant cup brimming with water - and it was all there, just for me. How could I have missed this paradise on earlier trips from Gobles? But then perhaps I have been here and just forgot. My memory is so poor. I forget things. Whole days seem to come and go without my knowledge.

### I pushed through the crack, through the bushes, and fell into the cool waters of the pond. Life was magical.

### I would return many times to that pond, each time leaving by the hole in the rock which fed Miller's Creek.

### Then, one Sunday afternoon, I met him. Even before I opened my eyes I could feel his presence, like a tree, protecting me. When I looked up he was silhouetted against the bright sky, yet I could see that his eyes were fierce and his cheeks red and I knew that he was angry. Yet, he was a boy and really quite naked and I could handle him as I had always handled my brothers. When I pushed my body to his I knew that he was caught off guard. When I pulled, gently at first, I knew that he would follow, leaning to me, falling with me.

### I left through the hole in the rock and it was exhilarating as I knew it would be.

### And I did it not once, but twice.

### Boys are quite foolish.

### My life was a dream, a fantasy ... until the pink letters started.

### Terry Cleaver

The Wednesday Chronicle carried the story on the front page. It was the most bloody awful thing that had happened in Haversville in years.

### BODY FOUND IN MILLER'S CREEK

At first I wasn't particularly interested. I had seen the headlines; the paper was lying on the table by the window. I had pushed it aside to eat my lunch, a salad plate with cottage cheese and a terrible French dressing. But the cafeteria was buzzing and everybody seemed to be poring over the front page of the Chronicle.

### Oh, I should mention that the black suit asked me to come back to work at the mill. I knew he would. Who else could run the computer?

### Anyway, everybody was talking about the body in the creek.

### "Unrecognizable, they say."

### "Pieces here and there - bloody awful."

### Then I heard Buck. The black suit was at the next table with his buddies, grinning and coughing between drags of his cigarette.

### "... pink swimsuit, torn right off ... bet she was raped ..."

### It was just the kind of moronic thing he would say.

### Pink swimsuit? Did he say pink?

I looked again at the headlines. Where in God's name was Miller's Creek? Didn't it run across that old dirt road the other side of Benton's meadow, across Blair Road, on the way to Gobles? Then it was close to ... to Cleaver's Pond.

### I guess I just stared at Buck with my mouth open because he stared at me then grunted then looked away and started talking again to his buddies.

### "What was that broad doing there anyway? No place for a woman ..."

### I remember getting up from my chair, looking down, seeing the headlines again and sitting down. I read the story from beginning to end, twice.

A young woman's naked body was found yesterday, Tuesday, mutilated beyond belief. She had worn a pink swimsuit with ruffled collar and although no definite identification had yet been made, it was reported that a Miss Constance Fenton was missing. A close friend confirmed that Miss Fenton did, indeed, own such a swimsuit. All the tenants of the Mayflower Apartments had insisted that she had absolutely no enemies. "She was a lovely girl ... so full of life ... adored by all."

### I found that I had difficulty breathing and was starting to sweat. I jumped up from the table and stormed across the cafeteria, knocking chairs as I went. Buck Tormin stopped laughing. I think everybody turned to watch me leave and I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks.

### Before I knew it, I found myself at Cleaver's Pond and for the umpteenth time in my life I found the tears rising. I couldn't hold back and they ran down my cheek and that made me angry. I sat on the rock, chin on my knees, and stared at the sky reflected in the water. When I closed my eyes I could still see her lying in the sun, that crazy smile on her lips, the silly ruffled collar, the smooth pink -

### Damnation!

I jumped up and ran into the bush. When I reached Miller's Creek I followed it upstream until I saw the clearing, saw the trickle of water flowing from the hole in the rock, peered through and saw the pond, my pond. That's how she got in, and how she got out without my seeing her leave.

I leaned against the wet rock and just sort of grinned. What a neat gal. She pulled me into the water, swam to this hole, this very hole, and vanished.

### Damnation!

### She was dead, my girl, torn apart by some bastard. Who would do a thing like that?

### I could feel the anger.

Did I call her my girl?

### I'd find the bastard who did this.

### I retraced my steps, back along Miller's Creek toward Blair Road. Nothing. I went back to the clearing once more and followed the creek.

### There! A footprint in the muddy bank. Two, three. My God, there were dozens of prints!

### I collapsed on the ground. No killer's trail; the police had been here, everywhere. Their tracks covered the ground.

### I walked back to Blair Road.

### What could I do? Did I really expect to find a clue that the police had missed? Did I really expect to track down the bastard who did this?

When I got home from work on Friday, to my rooms in the basement of Mrs. Harris' house, I spread out the papers on the table and tilted the lamp shade so I could read them all. I had the Chronicle stories, three of them, including Wednesday's initial story. There was a story from the country paper out of Dunnborne. And of course the pile of notes I had made - and a printout of the police report.

It had been pretty simple to get into the police computer. The stupid buggers had used police as the password. Not too bright. I had extracted all the files I could find there.

### It seemed like a lot of information lying on the table, but it was nothing. Nothing.

### I had talked to every farmer along Blair Road. Nothing.

### On Sunday I'd walk to the end of Blair Road, along the county line to Gobles and talk to her family. Her name was Connie ... Connie Fenton. I'd talk to Connie's family. I'd talk to all her friends. Did she have friends? Yes, everybody had friends. Everybody except Terry Cleaver.

### But I needed time and space without interruption.

### The next morning, Saturday, I quit my job. Buck Tormin bitched, but didn't seem particularly concerned. That made me angry. Just let them try to find a goddamn replacement.

### On Sunday I walked to the end of Blair road.

### "Are you a friend of Connie's?"

### I was taken aback. She, Connie, looked just like her father.

### "Yes ... uh, no, not exactly." I didn't know what else to say.

### "Well, come on in anyway."

### Mr. Fenton backed away from the door and I went in and looked around. It was a small room with wooden chairs and a table with a gigantic bible and a fireplace smeared in black soot and a whole slew of faded brown pictures just tacked to the wall.

### Mr. Fenton was looking at me and I guess I had to say something.

### "I just, well, I just met her ... Connie ... at the pond. I didn't know her, not really."

### Mr. Fenton pointed to a chair and I just sat on the edge with my hands between my knees. When I think of it, I must have looked like a real asshole.

### "I'm her father, Benjamin Fenton." This guy was tall, over six feet. He kept running his fingers along the seams in his pants. He seemed nervous. "What can I do for you?"

I didn't know what to say. I'm maybe in love with your daughter \- I really think she's neat. I looked around the room. What could I say? I intend to find the bastard who killed her.

### "Uh ... Mr. Fenton, I met your daughter at the pond." I had already said that. What an asshole. "I met her twice." Was that really important? "She was wearing a pink ... uh, I guess that's not important." I was making a fool of myself. Coming here was a bad idea so I got up to leave.

"Sit down young man." Benjamin Fenton said it with such anger as he stood tall as a chimney in front of me. "I'd like to ask you a few questions." There was just a little pause, then he said. "When was the last time you saw her? Did anyone see you with her? What was she wearing? Was it in town, or did you follow her to Miller's Creek? Did you follow her, in the dark, then attack her ..."

### Then he reached out and grabbed me by the collar and dragged me to my feet. "Answer me, devil! Did you follow her to the creek?"

### Jesus Murphy he was strong! I started shaking. I'm not used to being pushed around, but this guy was really mad and really strong and I guess I started shaking.

### "I loved her. God amighty, I think I loved her!" I just blurted it out. "Mr. Fenton, I even didn't know her name - but I think I loved her, even since that first day at the pond."

### He let me go and I fell back onto the chair. I wasn't sure I had said the right thing, then I noticed that my eyes were wet and when I looked up I could see that Mr. Fenton was crying too. He tried to say something but it didn't come out right: "I'm ... now, I just ... just ..."

### Mr. Fenton moved back a little and I jumped to my feet. I knew what I should say and I said it loud.

"Mr. Fenton, I want to find the bastard who killed her - and I will, I promise I will!"

When I finally left, the sun had settled in behind the bush and I could see the moon through dirty clouds. I told Ben everything I knew, which wasn't much. I told him how I met Connie, how I felt when I read the story in the Chronicle, how I quit my job to devote full time to finding the bloody bastard who did this thing. Ben Fenton had been quiet most of the evening. Later, he opened the huge bible and read a passage - can't remember what, but it had something to do with the devil - then he pulled open a bottle of red wine and together we just sort of cried. Somehow it seemed okay. I wasn't mad and I didn't feel stupid because he was big as a pine tree and he was crying more than I was. By the evening's end I had grown to like him and understood better why I had grown to like Connie - perhaps to love Connie, strange as that may seem.

### Then Ben told me about Connie's brothers, how they were all fired up and left the cottage last week. Ben hadn't seen or heard from them since. He had closed Gobles variety store and stayed home, just mourning and drinking and crying and reading from the bible.

The Wednesday Chronicle arrived late, but Mrs. Harris called me and flung it down the stairs as soon as it arrived.

### The paper still carried the occasional article about Connie Fenton, but the police were stymied and had no real clues to the murder. They're a bunch of nitwits. Now, three weeks after the first article, you might find something about her murder on page one thousand.

But there was now a new story and this story was on page one.

### ANOTHER GIRL MISSING

### Leah Farrel had supposedly been on vacation for two weeks, her friends hadn't seen her, then she didn't show up for work and her friends got worried and called the police. They broke into Miss Farrel's apartment in the Mayflower Suites, spoken to tenants, contacted her relatives. The girl was definitely missing ... and she had been a close friend of Connie Fenton. The police suspected foul play and had searched Miller's Creek and surrounding countryside without success.

It was perhaps a week after the first Leah Farrel story appeared in the paper that I found myself in Kelly's Bar. My bank account was running low, I had been eating Mrs. Harris' meat loaf for what seemed like a month, I was getting nowhere with my investigation (although I had talked to maybe two dozen people) and there was bloody little in the Chronicle. The police even seemed to be evading direct questions from the reporters, as though they were hiding something. Maybe I was a little hasty in quitting my job. At least if I were working and had access to the mill's computer I could break into the police minicomputer, look at their records, see what they were doing.

### I guess I was feeling sorry for myself.

### After the third or fourth beer this guy walks up, sits beside me and orders a glass of tonic water. Somehow he looks familiar. I was down to my last buck and was about to leave when this dude leans over and says "Buy you a drink?"

### He was big and lanky, with a thin little beard that followed his chin from ear to ear.

### "No thanks," I said, "I'm leaving." I got up and backed away from the bar.

### He put his hand on my shoulder and pulled me back onto the stool and I was thinking of punching him when I recognized the face. A Fenton face, Mr. Fenton's face, Connie's face. I held my breath.

### "Jonah, Connie's brother," he said, almost in a whisper. Then he looked around and pointed to a corner table and walked away without another word. I watched him sit at the table, then I looked around exactly as he had, then I followed him. Bloody stupid, like some crummy black-and-white movie.

### He started talking even before I sat down.

### "Know anything?" he asked. This guy was staring.

### "Nothing," I said, still whispering.

### "I know something," he said.

### "What?"

### "Leah Farrel is dead."

### I felt like I was talking to a moron. Of course Leah Farrel was dead. It was in the paper last week. Was this guy retarded?

### "Yeah, it was in the paper," I grunted.

### "No. The paper said 'missing'. She's dead."

### I remembered now. Missing. No body found. I felt like a bloody asshole.

### "Yeah, missing," I repeated. Maybe this guy knew more than I did. "What do you know?" I asked. It was weird, this conversation.

### "Somebody killed her."

### Jesus Murphy. Is this guy for real?

### "Yeah, I'd say so." I got up from the table.

### He said "... and Connie too."

### I sat down again, hard enough to hurt my ass on the chair. I didn't know if I was up to talking about Connie Fenton. Her murder had torn me apart. I wanted to forget. This Jonah fellow went quiet and I got up after just a moment.

### I gulped the last of my beer and turned to leave but another identical Fenton face was staring at me and I sat down again. This other guy seemed even taller than the first.

### He sat down and whispered. "The letters."

### "Letters? What letters?" I was looking at them both, sitting side by side across the table from me, like twin fence posts.

### "Pink letters. Threats."

### I wasn't sure who said it. They both seemed to say it, together.

### "Tell me about the letters," I said, looking back and forth at each of the brothers. "I don't know anything about pink letters, threats."

### "Connie got letters, pink letters. They said she would die."

### Jesus Murphy! The police never said anything about letters. Pink letters?

### "What do you mean, 'pink' letters?"

### "The paper was pink." Jonah had said that, I'm sure.

### I sat and stared and neither one said anything for a few minutes. Then they looked at each other, shook their heads, then the second brother got up and left. I watched him go. Then the first brother, Jonah, he got up and left too.

### I was feeling stupid, weary and a little light-headed.

### Then I got up and left too.

### The next day I walked to the mill and asked for my job back.

### Buck just grinned, then spat into the waste basket. He has the demeanor of a sloth. Then he leaned back in his chair, smoothing that bloody black suit with both hands.

### "We already got a computer expert, better than you ever was."

### Not likely. Some snot-nosed bastard who read the goddamn manual and thinks he knows everything. I was probably the only person in Haversville who actually had a diploma in Computer Engineering.

### "Let me talk to him," I said. "I'll show you what an idiot he is." I knew Buck wouldn't turn me down. He'd like to see me fall on my ass.

### "Why not?"

### She was just a kid, maybe eighteen or nineteen, with a pizza-face full of pock marks and dirty brown hair that came just barely to her ears.

### "Kid, this here's Terry Cleaver. Used to have your job." Buck was chewing his cigarette, his face one big smirk. "He wants to ask you a few questions."

### The kid poked a few keys then swivelled in her chair and jumped up.

### "Gee Mr. Cleaver, I'm sure glad to meet you. I really like what you've done with the system files. Pretty tricky coding and hardly a bug anywhere."

### Hardly a bug anywhere? This little brat telling me 'hardly a bug'?

### "Bug? You won't find any bugs in my programs, kid." I wanted to say more but this little bastard was pumping my hand like I was some big wheel.

### "Well," she said, "not many. It's just the message-handler. It'll hang up the machine unless ..."

### "Wait just a minute!" No way I was going to let this shitfaced teenybopper tell me about programming. Besides, Buck was about to burst out laughing. "Look at this." I pulled the kid out of the chair, sat down at the terminal and logged in as the superuser. The dopes hadn't even bothered to change the password. Then I called up the message-handler.

### Buck and pizza-face both watched me, quiet, and I went over the code. I knew exactly what I had written and would recognize any change that shitface had made.

Bastard! She had modified the program!

### The kid was bending over my shoulder. "You see Mr. Cleaver, if a user doesn't terminate with a lower case 'q' then the handler should just read a few null lines and stop. The way you had it written, the handler would keep reading ..."

### I was getting red and I felt it. When I looked around, Buck was killing himself laughing, his cigarette still stuck to his lips.

### "... but what I really found slick was the way you ..."

### The kid was still jabbering, but I was looking at Buck.

### " ... so any remote machine could be accessed, like the police computer, without ..."

### Buck stopped laughing. "The what?"

### I jumped up from the chair and patted the kid on the head, hard.

### "Nice work kid," I said, still looking at Buck.

### "Did she say the police computer?" Buck's cigarette had fallen from his lips and the kid looked worried and started to stutter.

### "Oh no, no ... not the police computer. Did I say that? I'm sorry. I meant the ... uh, the ..."

"The police recruiter," I suggested quickly. "He can be notified via computer in case of an emergency in the plant." That was stupid. Police recruiter? It was the only word I could think of, in a hurry, that sounded like computer.

### "Yeah, yeah, the police recruiter," the kid said enthusiastically. It looked like there was a smile lurking behind her chewed-up face.

### Buck just grunted and stared at us, then he turned and walked toward the door. Before leaving he looked over his shoulder and he had a big ugly grin on his big ugly face. "Cleaver, find another job. You ain't working here no more."

Actually, the kid wasn't so bad after all. Her name was Rita. She'd flunked out of school at seventeen, her parents had abused her, they'd separated, and she lived with and was supporting an old aunt. She'd taught herself computers and was really pleased to have the job at the mill - and she really was impressed with my mods to the system files. She apologized umpteen times for having mentioned my piracy of the police files, then went on to show me how to access their computer without leaving a login trail. Jesus Murphy she was good.

### After work (her work, not mine) we walked along Teaker's Lane and sat on the bench at the end of the park. I don't know why, but I told her all about Connie. Maybe I needed to explain why I wanted the police files. Maybe I needed to explain why I found Connie so attractive. Maybe I just needed to talk. Anyway, Rita listened patiently and even seemed angry at the bloody waste of life and asked if she could help in tracking down the killer.

### I said I had almost given up, but Rita insisted that we go on with the investigation. She would provide all the information from the police files.

### That was Wednesday, September 16. I know because it was my birthday.

I saw Rita that weekend and I was actually looking forward to it. She was a nice kid, I liked her, we were friends, and we were in this together - and she had some information for me ... for us.

### It was about the pink letters.

### Connie Fenton

### I thought that the first letter was a joke, a magical missive, and I was thrilled. It was a wonderful, electrifying statement. It said:

### Sister of the devil, you are dead

### It was slipped under my door and I found it that first Saturday in August. I read it again and again and again while I sipped my morning tea and knew right away that it was from Leah. She's my best friend and lives in the apartment at the end of the hall. It was just the sort of thing she would do.

### So I wrote her a note and slipped it under her door that very same evening. I even bought some pink paper on my way home from work, just as she had done. I'll bet we even bought it at the same store. I spent some time thinking of some fantastical, mysterious and mystic reply but eventually wrote simply:

### You're dead too!

### I saw Leah at church the next day. She was talking to Father Pollicciano after the service, standing on the front steps. Most of the congregation had left but she was still talking, and she looked nervous. I waited, then caught up with her at the corner of Almond and Chelsea. I just sneaked up behind and whispered:

### "Sister of the devil, you're dead."

### She jumped a mile high and when I saw her face I was really sorry I had said it. She was pale as a ghost.

### "Gee Leah, I'm sorry if I frightened you. I just thought ... well, you know."

### "Oh Connie, I'm so frightened." She blurted it out as though it had been building inside. "Somebody wants to kill me!"

### Then I really felt badly about the pink letter.

"No, no. Leah, it was me. I'm sorry. I was so thrilled with your note that I thought you'd like one too ... you know."

### Then she just stared at me, saying nothing, as though she wasn't listening.

### "The letter, the pink letter you slipped under my door yesterday?" I said it as though it were a question. "Remember? I gave you one too, last night."

She stared at me then whispered. "I didn't give you a pink letter." Then, as though she just realized that I had given her a second pink letter, she said "What did your note say?"

### I tried to recall what mysterious words I had decided upon and felt a little embarrassed at my lack of imagination.

### "'You're dead too'. That's what I wrote."

### Leah began to cry and put her arms around me and I knew I had been stupid. But wasn't life a game and wasn't she playing it too?

"Not that note," she sobbed. "I knew that note was from you. It was the other notes, four of them. All on pink stationery, all threatening to kill me, all calling me the sister of the devil."

We sat for an hour in my apartment and she told me of the threats. She hadn't sent me my note. She would never do a thing like that, she said.

We were both getting notes addressed to sister of the devil. I tried to tell her it was somebody's strange sense of humor. It was exciting and she should enjoy the thrill, but she wouldn't listen.

### After she left I took a hot bath and went right to bed.

### Leah Farrel was seeing bunnies and imagining dragons.

### But the following week I found another pink letter at my door:

### Sister of the devil, thou shalt be deformed unto dust from whence you came

### Within the next ten days there were two more:

### Sister of the devil, thy body shall be torn asunder and cast to the swine

### Sister of the devil, no more shall man covet thy body

These things shouldn't happen, not to me, not to Connie Fenton.

### Then, on Sunday, August 16, someone killed Leah Farrel, tearing her poor body to pieces. She had been wearing my pink bathing suit, and I knew that I would be next.

### I stayed awake all night. The next day I left Haversville without saying a word to anyone.

### My magical life - where had it gone?

### Pink

### And I found her as a harlot garbed in pink and I cast her riven body to the dust so that she would no more defile the essence of woman, no more evoke the lust of man.

### Great Lord of the World, Breath of Life, weep not for the damned for I have cleansed the world of the devil's kin.

### Connie Fenton

### I stayed in the town of Dunnborne for nearly a month, working part-time as a waitress. The pink letters had been a dream, a nightmare, a fantasy. Yet I knew in my heart that they were real and that I was in danger. I spoke little to anyone except, of course, to Clem who I had known since I was a child.

### Leah Farrel was dead.

### I had thought about it every night and I knew that I was partly to blame.

### She had been wearing my bathing suit.

### On Sunday, I took the first morning bus back to Haversville. I needed to talk to somebody.

I knew that the service would end at ten, so I waited across the street. I couldn't let anyone see me. I had read the articles in the Chronicle and the Press and knew that the police thought I had been murdered that Sunday in August, at Miller's Creek. Yet I knew. It was Leah's body they had found, in pieces, mutilated beyond recognition.

### But I had seen Leah speak to the priest, just two weeks before she was murdered, that day she had told me of her pink letters and I had told her of mine. Had she not gone to Father Pollicciano for help, for guidance?

### I must do the same.

### The doors of Saint Teresa's opened and the people began to wander down the wide concrete stairs. Father Pollicciano was standing at the top, talking and shaking hands. It took nearly thirty minutes for the crowd to leave. I waited, then walked slowly across the road to the church, pulled open the heavy door and walked in. Outside it was cool and I had pulled my coat collar about my face, for warmth and concealment, but inside the church it was stifling hot.

### Father Pollicciano was speaking to the altar boys before the statue of the Virgin and I waited. Soon they left, filing out through the small door to the right of the altar, and Father Pollicciano stood alone staring up at the Virgin Mary, his hands caressing her feet, his lips moving in silent prayer. Then he stopped and turned his head, slowly, then he looked straight at me. We were alone in this great dark cavern of polished wood.

### When he beckoned I walked to him, slowly. He leaned forward and squinted, then I could see him stagger a little and place a hand upon the bronze feet of the Virgin Mary.

"Constance, my child," he said in a hoarse voice, "you are alive. Dear God, you are alive."

### And he came to me and embraced me and I began to shake, but he held me tightly and whispered in my ear.

### "We thought you were gone, departed of this world, risen to the heaven to sit at the hand of God."

### When I looked up at him he was crying - and I began to cry.

### "No Father, it was not my body they found at Miller's Creek. It was Leah Farrel. She had been frightened, she was getting threatening letters, she was tired, she hadn't been able to sleep. I told her of the pond, by Miller's Creek."

### Father Pollicciano looked with gentle eyes and listened to every word. We stood facing each other, a thin ribbon of colored light running brightly across his face from the stained glass window above the Virgin Mary. He was leaning forward slightly, staring at me, his hands clasped by his waist.

### "I said she should spend the afternoon, resting. She had no bathing suit. I gave her mine. It was small for her, but she took it and went to the pond. That day is blurry in my mind, but I know that ... that ..."

### He pulled me to him and held me and I began to cry again.

### "I do remember that she didn't come home that evening, and I got worried. I rode to the Creek on my bicycle and found her body. It was ... it was dismantled ... and -"

### Again he held me, very tightly, too tightly. I could feel his body shaking. Father Pollicciano was trembling. When I didn't continue he held me away from him and I could see that he was disturbed.

### "My child. What a tragedy to behold."

### He paused and stared at me with a strange, wild look. There was a glow in his eye. He was clothed entirely in black and looked frightening.

### "Great God of the World," he whispered, "Breath of Life, weep for this child who has been witness to the work of the devil's kin."

### Then he led me to his rooms beyond the altar.

### Rita Bullas

### When this jerk first walked in, I knew who he was and what he wanted. Terry Cleaver, and he wanted his job back. No way. I'd earned it. I deserved it.

### Sure, he'd done some neat things on the system files but some of it was pure crap and the prick thought he was some sort of genius. But I wasn't takin' no chances. I'd butter him up, kiss his ass, make out like he was a big fart and even if Bucky gave him his old job back there'd still be a place for me.

### I needed the cash. My aunt was no Spring chicken and the doctor's bills came every week. Besides, you should have seen his face when I just happened to mention that he was screwin' around with the police computer. After that he was no more big fart. Bucky was splittin' a gut one minute then the next he went white in the chops. 'Police recruiter', what a laugh.

### After that, Cleaver came around. He's not a bad guy actually. I'd read about that Fenton dame and it seemed like a cool cha-cha to actually go after the guy who did it.

So I crashed into the cop minicomputer and came out with a dozen files, all labelled Fenton-something. That weekend we met in the park by Teaker's Lane and I showed the stuff to Cleaver. He was only interested in one file: Fenton.letters.

### "Jesus Murphy," he'd said, "this is what Jonah was talking about."

### Well, I didn't know this creep Jonah but I knew Cleaver would tell me, so I just kept cool.

"Connie has two brothers. One is Jonah. He said something about 'pink letters'." Cleaver read the Fenton.letters file at least a dozen times. I just waited.

### "Connie was getting letters, on pink paper. The other girl, Leah something, she was too. They were threats. Look, here's one."

### Cleaver held the printout up so I could read it:

### Sister of the devil thy body shall be torn asunder and cast to the swine

### "The bastard! He cut her to pieces! The dirty rotten bastard!"

### I waited and Cleaver turned his head and I could see he was about to bawl so I got up from the bench and walked to the lake. I can't stand it when men bawl. The ducks was quackin' and the geese was honkin' and the sun was so fuckin' bright on the lake that it hurt your eyes and I could feel the tears comin' ... just from the glare, that's all. When I looked back to the bench, Cleaver was gone.

### I knew where he lived, in the basement of Mrs. Harris' house, but I figured I'd leave him be. He knew where I worked. He'd get in touch.

### Terry Cleaver

### Connie had been getting letters, threatening letters, typed on pink stationary. She must have known that her life was in danger, yet when I spoke again to Ben Fenton he said his daughter never said a word about the letters. Rita went with me, to Benjamin Fenton's cottage in Gobles.

### "No, Connie never mentioned any letters," Ben said. "But I'm not surprised. She usually kept things to herself, didn't say much, often seemed in a world of her own." Then he looked around as though somebody was listening. "What's funny is the pink." Then he just stared at me, completely ignoring Rita who sat at the table flipping through that gigantic bible.

### Benjamin Fenton had by now accepted Connie's death and had opened Gobles variety store again, but I could tell that my bringing up the subject was causing him some distress. He paced back and forth across the small room, then sat in a chair and began to speak in a voice that quivered with either rage or despair.

### "Pink was Connie's favorite color," he said. "Everything she owned had something pink. A ribbon, a collar, a belt." He paused and Rita cut in:

### "Whoever sent those threats knew Connie well enough to use pink paper."

### Ben turned to look at Rita as though he had noticed her for the first time.

### "Yes ... I suppose," Ben said, the words coming slowly. He seemed now to be looking past Rita, at the wall behind. I looked at Rita, then at the wall and soon Rita had turned to look at the wall. Then, as though we were both thinking the same thoughts, Rita and I got up and went to look at the faded photos.

### There were perhaps twenty pictures on the wall, mostly of Ben and his two boys fishing or playing ball or driving some old tractor on a muddy field. But there were a couple of Connie and one, just one, of a woman in her twenties with a baby in her arms.

### "That's Connie's mother," Ben said. "It's the only picture I have of her. She was nineteen when Jonah was born, twenty-one when she had Joshua and ..."

### Rita and I both looked around and saw Ben crying. I felt like I shouldn't have come to Gobles, to dig up old memories, to cause this man such grief.

### "I'm sorry Mr. Fenton," I said. "I really didn't mean to -"

### "No, no, it's quite all right. It's been a long time. Norah died when Connie was five. It's been a long time."

### I noticed that Rita had slipped out the front door. She didn't like to see Ben cry.

### "Norah always wore pink, just like Connie does ... did." Ben had come to the wall and together we looked at the photograph of his wife holding Connie in her arms. "When Norah was killed ...," then he stopped and wiped his eyes and turned to gaze out the window. Rita was leaning against a rickety fence, chewing on a stick. Ben seemed to be staring at her.

### "Did you say 'killed'?" I said, but Ben didn't answer. Instead he turned to me and pointed to the door.

### "I think you'd better go. I have to get back to the store."

### He spoke in a deep voice, in a matter-of-fact way as though he had forgotten what he had just said, forgotten about Connie's murder. It was Sunday and I couldn't really believe that he had to work at his store, but we left without another word.

### When Rita and I got back to Haversville we stopped at Kelly's Bar and talked, over a beer.

### "If Connie's old lady was killed then it woulda been in the papers. We should look -" Rita said.

### "Why? What connection could there be," I interrupted. "Jesus Murphy, these murders were maybe fifteen, twenty years apart! Besides, Ben said Connie's mother was killed, not murdered. It could have been an accident, like maybe she was killed by a mad dog."

### "How can we tell, unless we check it out?"

### Rita was right. Maybe there was a connection. So the next evening, after Rita came home from work, we drove to Dunnborne. Rita had bought a rusty old Chev with only half its complement of windows, but it sure as hell beat walking.

Dunnborne was a sleepy village with just a corner grocery, a post office, a one-room police station and a small hardware store with a hand-painted sign which said "everithing for the handiman". But Dunnborne did have a small country newspaper which had a reputation for printing all the local gossip.

### "Yup, I remember, sure nuff. Norah Fenton, beautiful gal, simple, always helpin' others, always bright 'n' cheery, can't say she had a single enemy, yet there she was, killt dead in the meadow crosst from Shulley's farm, raped, clothes torn right off."

Clemence Broden was the editor of the Dunnborne Press and everything he said just ran on and on in a continuous stream. I wondered if his paper had the same characteristic. I suspected it did.

### "What color was her dress?" Rita was right on track. It was just what I had intended to ask.

### Clem pulled his pipe from his mouth, stared at it awhile then grinned, his cheeks breaking out in a thousand creases, a single yellow tooth peeking from under his gums. He must have been a thousand years old.

### "Pink, that's it, pink, cuz I remember seeing her in church with that same dress and the missus, Clara, she wanted one just like it but you couldn't buy it round here and I wasn't about to get it thru no catalog, can't trust the mails, can't trust the postmaster."

I looked at Rita. Pink. Was there some connection?

We bought a copy of the Dunnborne Press and drove back to Haversville. Sure enough, the paper read just like old Clem talked.

Mrs. Harris seemed pleased to see us and had already pulled a meatloaf from the oven, setting it on the table, hoping we would be back before it got cold. By the time we got home, it was cold.

### "It's about time you got yourself a friend," Mrs. Harris said, her eyes lighting up, her face beaming as she watched Rita. I guess I blushed just a little and looked at Rita out the corner of my eye. She was wolfing down her portion of meatloaf as though it was the first time she had eaten home-cooked in weeks. Rita looked up, grinned with cheeks bulging, then went back to eating. I smiled politely and Mrs. Harris left us alone.

### After we ate we went to my rooms in the basement and I made notes of what had been said this day, by Benjamin Fenton, by Clemence Broden. Rita was sitting across from me at the table, leafing through the pile of papers, notes, police reports.

### "Did you read this?" she said.

### "I've read everything on this table - several times."

### "You didn't say anything about braces on her teeth," she said.

### I stopped writing.

### "Let me see that." I slid the police report from her hand and read it for the umpteenth time.

When they found Connie's body at Miller's Creek, or at least the pieces of her body, they also found braces. I read the report once more. It did list braces among the items found with the body. I remember now. I didn't think of braces as in braces on her teeth. Actually, I hadn't the faintest idea of what the police report had been talking about. But braces on her teeth. Why hadn't I thought of that?

### "Connie didn't wear braces on her teeth," I said, still staring at the report. I don't know how I knew this, but I was certain.

### "But braces go on, then they come off, then on again. Maybe you just never saw her with braces on."

### "No. I'm sure. She didn't wear braces."

### Rita and I looked at each other for perhaps a minute, then Rita said it first.

### "Then the girl at the Creek wasn't Connie."

### I felt my heart pounding and I could hardly breathe. Rita seemed to know what I was thinking, what I was feeling.

"Well, hold on Cleaver. She ain't around, right? Maybe they just haven't found her body. Or maybe it was her body they found and she just happened to be wearing her braces that day."

### Rita was right, as usual, but we had to be sure. I tried to say something but the words wouldn't come.

### "Okay, I know what you're thinking," Rita said. "The police files. They must have something else, something that will clear this up." She grinned and whispered. "I'll get in tonight. Want to come along?"

### Connie Fenton

### We sat side-by-side on a couch in a small room at the back of the church. It was very dark and I wanted to ask Father Pollicciano if he would mind opening the heavy drapes, but he was staring at me with such a strange look that I was somehow frightened. There was a candle burning on the wall, beneath a tiny statue of Jesus on the cross. The candle flickered and I could see the lines of light and shadow dancing on his face.

### "Tell me, my child, what do you know of Miss Farrel's death."

### How did he know that Leah was dead? Had I told him? I couldn't remember.

### "I was worried when she didn't return from the pond, so I went there, on my bike, and found her body." I could hear the tremble in my own voice. "It was terrible," I said.

### "What did you see, at Miller's Creek?"

Did I say Miller's Creek? Hadn't I said the pond? How did he know?

### "There were pieces of flesh and blood everywhere, her body completely dismantled." I guess I was crying and the words came out shaking. "But I recognized the bathing suit \- it was mine, a pink suit with a collar that I made at the dress shop."

### He placed his right hand on my knee and made the sign of the cross with his left hand. I can't recall a priest using his left hand for the cross.

### "Go on, my child."

"It was my pink suit. The pond is always deserted. It's where I go to swim. I knew that whoever did it was really after me."

### He closed his eyes and whispered something. I couldn't hear what he said but his face looked in pain. I waited and when he opened his eyes he looked straight at me.

### "Great God of the World, forgive these trespasses for they know not what they do."

My God, he thinks I killed her!

### I tried to get up from the couch but he pulled me back. I pulled away and he let go and I slipped to the floor, then half-ran, half-crawled to the door. It was locked! When I turned he was there, standing beneath the candle, beneath the Son of God, all in black, his hands folded in prayer, his eyes glowing like they were on fire - and he was staring at me.Then he walked toward me, slowly. I was shaking, sobbing, my hands trembling.

### "Father Pollicciano? Are you in there?"

### It was a voice from beyond the door! Somebody was trying to get in! I turned and held my hands to the heavy door, shouting: "Help! Let me out!"

### I heard a key click, then the brass handle turned and the door swung open.

### "Father? Is there something wrong?"

### It was Mrs. Walker, the housekeeper. I pushed past her and ran. I didn't look back.

It wasn't until the bus reached Dunnborne that I stopped shaking. He knew everything. Father Pollicciano knew that it was Leah who had been butchered. The police didn't know that, but he knew.

### Why had he locked the door to the room? Why did he blame me for Leah's death? He would come after me.

### Dear Jesus, my magical world has turned to a nightmare.

The next morning I called in sick. I just couldn't be cheerful and smiling to all the customers at Jim's Lunch. Yet I knew that's why they hired me; I was cheerful - usually. Life had been, for me, a magical experience and I can't remember ever being sad or unhappy, except maybe once ... long ago ... when I was very young ... but I can't remember.

### The old house had been boarded up for years and when Clem suggested I use it, for free, I was delighted. Clem is such a nice man. I guess he owns many properties in the county and I guess he's pretty rich, but he's always been so helpful and so kind.

### I slept very little that night, thinking about Father Pollicciano. The next morning I put on my heavy coat, even though it was a mild day, and walked to Clem's house with the collar pulled high, covering my face. Everyone seemed to be staring at me. Clem was setting the type, but he stopped immediately and we went to his rooms in the back. I told him everything. Then I ran home, locked all the doors, pulled the curtains and hid in the basement. I would live there, forever.

### And Father Pollicciano would not find me, ever.

### Yet, that very same night I heard noises and I knew somebody was trying to get in. I curled up and pulled the blankets about me and closed my eyes and the world turned to pink.

### I could see the devil and he was in a pink robe and fire flickered from his nostrils and he stood at the head of the stairs and I rose from my bed and walked to him as in a trance. He spoke to me, softly, and beckoned me to come.

### Great Lord of the World, Breath of Life, I am thy servant. Command me and I shall obey, for the devil rides this way and shall inherit the Earth lest I cleanse the world of his kin.

### Rita Bullas

Terry was lookin' over my shoulder, impatient. I had to make this good. I punched up the number as fast as I could, keyed in the userid and password and immediately asked for all files containing the word Fenton. There was a little pause, then the screen was filled with an alphabetical listing. Terry was breathin' hard and I knew he had been holdin' his breath; he always does that.

"There!" he said. "See?" He pointed to the file labelled: Fenton.body. It had been created August 18 and modified most recently on September 8. I opened the file and we stared at the contents without speakin'.

The body had been found on the 18th. There was a listing of items found with the body, includin' a reference to braces. After each item was a time. The collar of the bathing suit was found at 12:11 and some body parts at 3:12, 3:13 and 5:04. The braces were found at 10:08 and there was some other notation after this: LF.body.

"What the hell's going on here?" Terry's voice was shaking. "12:11 then 3:12 then 5:04?. And what does LF.body mean?"

### It came to me like a flash and I knew I was right.

### "They aren't times. They're locations where they found stuff. I think -" and Cleaver finished my sentence. He ain't so stupid.

### "Clock directions. 3:12, three o'clock, twelve feet away. 10:08, the braces were found at 10 o'clock, 8 feet away."

### "And what's 12 o'clock?" I mumble, even though I know the answer.

"Uh ... I'd say North is 12 o'clock," he says. Cleaver's a smart dude, but I know what LF.body means.

"Leah Farrel has some files of her own, and one of them is called LF.body." I said it loud.

"Let me sit down." Cleaver nearly pulled me outta my chair. I thought I was doin' a good job but he was real fired up so I just let him go. He opened the LF.body file and there it was, clear as day:

### dental identification: Leah A. Farrel

### Then came all the same location info that had been in Fenton's file: 12:11 and 3:08 and so on. In fact, the first half of Farrel's file was just a copy of Fenton's file.

### "Cleaver, look at the creation date of this file. September 8. That's when Connie's file was last modified."

"That means they closed Connie's file and started this one." Cleaver looked right up at me and I could see he was holding his breath again. "They know that the body wasn't Connie's - they've known it for weeks." He said it all in a rush, then he started to breathe hard. "It was Leah Farrel ... the body they found was Leah's. Then why didn't they say that, in the newspaper? I knew they were hiding something!"

### Then I heard a noise down the hall.

### "Cleaver, let's get out of here." I reached over and punched a key and the screen went blank.

### "What'd you do?" Cleaver was looking at the black screen, but now we could hear voices so we crept to the window and crawled out. I closed the window behind me, we ran across the parking lot. Then I saw the cop car with its headlights still on, so we headed out across the field and circled back to get my old Chevy.

### When we got to his basement apartment it was near 4 a.m. and I explained the function key I had programmed to logout, shut down and leave no trace of who done what to what. Cleaver thought it was hot shit. Anyway, we argued about what to do next, then I must have fallen asleep on his couch cause the next thing I know I could smell coffee and bacon and the sun was pourin' in the lousy window up in the corner of the room. He had the table set and he was beamin' so I knew he had somethin' up his sleeve.

### Terry Cleaver

### I couldn't sleep. Rita was snoring like a drunkard but I kept going over everything in my mind. By the time the light started coming through the basement window I think I had it all straight. I was even whistling as I cooked up the bacon and eggs. I brought a plate right up to Rita's nose and I could see her come to life. She was going to enjoy my analysis as well as she'd enjoy my breakfast. I started right in:

### "Here's the way I see it. Connie lends Leah her bathing suit and tells her about Cleaver's Pond. No other way Leah could know about the pond. Leah goes swimming and gets attacked, torn apart. Connie gets worried. She'd been getting these pink letters, threatening letters. Pink, just like the bathing suit. Pink, just like her mother's dress, the day she was killed."

### Rita puts up her hand to interrupt, like she was in school or something, but I keep on talking.

### "Connie was just a kid when her mother was attacked, but she remembers. Especially, she remembers the pink dress, so she wears pink herself. The killer knows that and chooses pink paper to write his letters. Connie is scared stiff. She gets out of town, quick, without telling anybody. Not her dad, not her friends, nobody."

### Rita has stopped eating and now she's listening with both ears.

### "Except, maybe, she tells her brothers, because they knew about the pink letters. They told me, that day in Kelly's Bar." This is where I come up with the big idea.

### "And where is Connie now?" I ask.

### Rita is still listening even though her plate still has a strip of bacon, untouched. I reach over and take her hand. "Rita ... Connie is living in Dunnborne."

### Rita pulls her hand away and goes back to her bacon. "Nuts," she says. "If she's still alive she'd go back to Gobles, to her dad." She crumples the bacon into her mouth like a stick of chewing gum. "That turd hasn't seen her since she disappeared." She takes a big swig of coffee.

### "Turd? Mr. Fenton? Don't talk that way. He's a nice man, he loves Connie, he's worried."

### "Did you see that bible of his? Biggest bloody bible I ever seen. And it's got red marks all through, circles and lines, all over."

### "So? He's a religious man, that's all."

### "Yeah? Every time there's mention of the devil, it's circled. The guy's some kind of weirdo." Rita leans back and burps. "Why Dunnborne?" She says no more, but I know what she means.

### "Because that's where Connie's mother was killed." I had come to this conclusion after hours of racking my brain. I don't know why, but it seemed exactly right.

### "Then she'd stay away from the place." Rita seemed disgusted, but I knew in my heart that Connie was there. I got up and headed for the door.

### "C'mon. We're going to Dunnborne."

### Rita looked at her watch. It was about 7:30 a.m. and I remembered that Rita had a job. She didn't have to say anything.

### "Okay. I'll go to Dunnborne," I said.

### "Take my car," she said. "Drop me off at the mill, then take it."

### Rita was a little rough around the edges but she was a good kid. I dropped her off and I took her car.

By the time I reached Dunnborne it was nearly ten o'clock in the morning and the little town was bustling. I wasn't exactly sure where to go or who to ask. There was only one person I knew, so I went to the Press and asked for Clem Broden. He was wearing an apron which had probably been white at one time; now it was streaked with ink.

### "Hello young fella, back agin I see, good thing cuz there's somethin' y'oughta know." He hooked his thumb toward the window and I looked out but there was just the street, nothing else. "Connie," he said in a whisper. I looked out the window again and my heart started to heave in my chest.

### "Connie Fenton? Where?"

### "Shhh, come on in, we'll talk." He led me to a dark and littered room in the back and pushed a chair in my direction, then he pulled out his pipe and began sucking it, dry. "Yes, Miss Fenton is here, lives at the edge of town, a deserted boarding house, wasn't about to say nothin' to nobody but then she tells me about you and I figure -"

### "About me?" My heart was sticking into my throat and I gagged.

### Clem looked worried. "You the red-headed buck, swims at the pond?"

### "Yes, yes. That's me."

### "That's I," he says, and grins. "Well, she tells me about you, says she has nowhere to turn, even some priest is after her." Clem looks into his pipe, shakes it a little, then starts sucking it again. "Says you're a nice kid, work at the mill in Haversville, computer operator she says." I felt embarrassed at having lost my job, but said nothing and Clem continues. "So when I tell her you was here, same red head and freckles, askin' questions, she gets excited, says she's goin' to look you up, ask you to help, cuz she needs a friend or two."

### "Two!" I blurted it out. "Rita and me."

### Clem looked around, didn't see Rita and grunted.

### "Rita had to work today - at the mill - computer operator." As soon as I said it I felt like an asshole. Could he tell just by looking at me that Rita had swiped my job?

### "Can I see Connie? Where does she live? Does she work in town? Could you -"

### "Whoa there young fella." He walked to the window and pointed up the street with his thumb. "End of the road, old grey brick house, green shutters, bloody awful purple picket fence out front." He grinned as though that was funny.

### I left immediately, then felt guilty for not having thanked him. When I looked back he was standing at the window, all smiles.

### Dunnborne is an intersection that calls itself a town. A few hundred yards from the intersection you're back out among the corn fields again. Right on the edge of town stands this big grey house amid a dozen chestnut trees, at the end of a long dirt driveway lined with a purple picket fence. I stopped for a minute and looked at every window, expecting to see her face peering at me through curtains. The house seemed empty. I walked up to the porch and knocked on the door. I waited for some time, but no one answered, so I walked to the back and found a window without curtains. I cupped my hands to my brow and peered through. I couldn't believe what I saw.

### There was a light burning on the floor, in the middle of the room, and two tall dark figures were standing there with the light between them. They didn't move. Then a third figure came into the light, dressed in a robe, walking to the light and raising his arms and swaying back and forth. It seemed like some bloody cult ritual. Then the light went out and all I could see were shadows and they were coming to the window! I turned and ran.

When I got to the Press building I thought of talking to Clem Broden, but didn't. What would I say? Some weird guys are living in the old house. Instead, I slipped into a burger joint next to Clem's and ordered a plate of fries.

### Did Connie really live in that house? Who were the three guys I saw? Was Connie in any danger? Somehow my plans to find the bastard who murdered Connie seemed of little importance. According to the Haversville police files, it was Leah Farrel who had been murdered. According to Clem, Connie was still alive. Then why was I still carrying out some kind of bloody investigation? Stupid! I should go home and forget about it. Who gives a shit anyway?

### Ian Woolner

I wasn't sure of anything anymore. We had identified the body as that of Leah Farrel. We also knew that Connie Fenton had been threatened; same letters on pink stationary, same handwriting, same phrases: sister of the devil. Then, before we had a chance to put a tail on Fenton, she vanishes. Her old man knows nothing, her brothers haven't been seen for weeks. I had placed the entire police force, such as it is in a small town like Haversville, on the case.

### Then we get a call from Pollicciano. Fenton had been to see him. The priest is worried, so the next day I go to see him. It was Tuesday, September 22.

### "And do you know where we might find the Fenton girl?"

### We were sitting in a small room in back of the church. Father Pollicciano was dressed casually in a heavy wool sweater and slacks and looked relaxed in a big red leather chair.

### "No, inspector. She has apparently moved out of town. At least none of my congregation has seen her for some time."

### "And you say that Miss Fenton was convinced that someone was after her?"

### "Yes, she said she had been receiving threatening letters, that someone had killed Miss Farrel and the same person was after her." He paused for a moment then leaned forward and said, in a whisper as though somebody was listening: "You mean you knew all along that the body at Miller's Creek wasn't that of Miss Fenton?"

### I found myself whispering. "At first we thought is was the Fenton girl, then the coroner identified the body as that of Leah Farrel." I looked around. "Is there some reason we're whispering?"

### Pollicciano laughed. "No, not at all." He leaned back, crossed his legs and pulled a package of cigarettes from beneath his sweater. "Why did you keep that a secret?" he said. "It wasn't in the papers." He knocked out a cigarette, looked around for a match, then tossed the pack on the table.

### "We didn't want to give the killer too much information." I said. "If Fenton was really in danger, then it would be best if the killer thought she was dead." The priest was still looking around for a match. I offered my lighter and he grinned sheepishly.

### "Bad habit," he muttered, lighting his cigarette. "I preach the good life yet do not practice it. Mrs. Walker keeps reminding me. She's my housekeeper." He looked about as though he expected Mrs. Walker to walk in and catch him smoking, took a deep drag, held it for seconds, then blew out a ring of smoke toward the ceiling. "But then I've never felt that smoking was necessarily associated with a bad life, have you?" He put my lighter on the table.

### "I don't smoke," I said. He seemed surprised. I reached over and retrieved the lighter. "The lighter is for ... lighting a barbecue." I got up to leave. "Father, I would appreciate it if you would tell no one about Miss Fenton's visit yesterday."

### Father Pollicciano nodded, leaned out of his chair, looked around for a place to put his cigarette then pushed it into the soil of a pink potted plant.

### "Fertilizer," he whispered.

### When I got back to the station, Chuck was waiting for me.

### "The Chev parked at the mill last night is registered in the name of Rita Bullas. The kid works at the mill, a computer nut. She's no dummy. Whoever accessed our files last night was no dummy either. Must have been the Bullas kid."

### Chuck was a bright lad who wanted my job.

### "Then put a tail on her," I says. "I want to know everywhere she goes, everything she does."

### "We already have. And Cleaver?" Chuck smiles like I had forgotten about Terry Cleaver, and he was there to remind me.

### "Him too," I says, not even looking at Chuck.

By the time lunch rolls around I figured I should drive out to see Fenton's dad, again. He must be hiding something. She would have been in touch. And her brothers, where the hell were they? While I was in Gobles I could also drop by the Press and talk to Clemence Broden. He's one smart fellow.

### I left a note saying where I'd be for the rest of the day.

### Terry Cleaver

### I was half-way back to Haversville when I knew I had to go back. If Connie really lived in that old house and if there was something going on there, I couldn't just leave as though I hadn't seen anything.

### I pulled off the road, turned around and headed back to Gobles. Shit. It had started to rain and I could see it was going to get worse. By the time I pulled into town it was all thunder and lightning.

The old grey house seemed bigger this time, and darker, but there weren't any lights in the windows. I waited for maybe ten minutes, parked on the street across from the driveway. Then I got out and ran to the porch. I got soaked but what the hell, it was only water. That's what my Pa used to say. It's only water.

### I stood there like an asshole and I wasn't sure I had done the right thing in coming back. The rain stopped for a minute and it was dark, so I went around the back and peeked into that window again. Nothing. There was a big crash of thunder and I ran again to the front porch just as the rain started up. I knocked on the door. I'd find Connie Fenton, no matter what.

### After a minute or two the curtain was drawn aside and I could see a face in the dark hallway, then the door opened a little and a face appeared in the crack. It was her, Connie Fenton! She was as beautiful as I remembered. I sucked in my breath.

### "Terrence. Please come in."

### She knew my name. I couldn't say a thing, but there was no need. She took my hand and pulled me into a side room, led me to a couch, drew the drapes and sat across from me in a rocking chair.

### "I knew you'd come, my knight and saviour," she said.

### I was taken aback, just a little. Her knight and saviour? Was she really saying that? I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. "He's after me, but I knew if I waited you'd find me and -"

### "Wait your horses," I said and it came out sounding stupid. "Why did you know I'd come?" Bloody stupid! I drew in a deep breath and began to speak very slowly, so it'd come out right. "I don't know how you knew my name ... we just met twice ... at the pond. I didn't know your name, not until it was in the newspaper. How could you possibly know I'd come to find you? How could you -"

### She leaned over and put her finger to my lips and I held my breath. I didn't breathe again until she let her finger drop to her lap. She was still leaning toward me. Then she spoke, very softly.

### "Father Pollicciano is the devil incarnate. He is after my immortal soul." Then her eyes rolled up into whites. "Lord of the World, Breath of Life, know you mine enemies."

### Rita Bullas

### When I finished work, I walked home and looked in on my aunt. She was okay, I guess. Then I walked to Cleaver's place. Old lady Harris was cutting some roses from a bloody bush that'd seen better days. She looked worried and as withered as the roses. She dropped the flowers when she saw me.

### "Oh Rita. Where is Terry? He's been gone all day and I'm sick with worry."

### "Don't worry ma'am. He's gone to Dunnborne. Lent him my car. Be back soon."

### Actually, I was pretty surprised he wasn't back already. He'd left early in the morning and should've been home long ago; it only takes twenty minutes to get to Dunnborne by car. But the old dame was really in bad shape so I went in and she fed me some weird looking cookies with tiny red stuff poked in the middle, maybe cherries, and I kept tellin' her that Cleaver was okay. After a half hour I left again and took the bus to Dunnborne. All the way there I kept my eyes open for my old Chevy. Sure as fuckin' shootin' he'd pass me on his way back to Haversville and I'd have to take the goddamn bus back again. But there wasn't no traffic on the road except a Haversville police cruiser, and Cleaver didn't pass, and when we pulled into town I knew for sure he was still lookin' for that Fenton dame.

The ground was soakin' and the mud went from one end of town to the other. Must've been some storm. I went straight to Dunnborne Press but it was closed up tight as a bloody soup can. I went into the burger joint next door and asked about Clem what's-his-name.

"Clem Broden? He lives just behind the Press."

### So I went around back and sure enough, the old geezer was there sittin' on the back porch chewin' a pipe.

### "Hello sonny," he says. "Your pal was here. Gone now though."

### Jerk. Calls me sonny. I shake my hair so he can see I'm a bloody woman.

### "Where?" I says.

### "Dunno, maybe back home."

### "Nope. Not back home," I says. "He came lookin' for some dame." That's all I'd say. If he knew somethin', let him tell me.

### "Fenton?" he says, yankin' the pipe outta his mouth.

### "Yup, Fenton," I says. Seemed like I was talkin' like him. Maybe that was good. "Connie Fenton," I says, just so he'd know I knew somethin'.

### "Dead, ain't she?" he says.

### "Nope," I says. Then I waited, then he got up and opened the door and waved me in. The room looked like a fuckin' library with wall-to-wall books. There was maybe four or five tables and they were piled high with more books.

### I sat at a chair by a table and old Clem stood by, sayin' nothin, just lookin' at me. Then he says: "Why you here? Lookin' for Connie Fenton?"

### "Yeah, Connie Fenton," I says.

### I didn't like this question-and-answer shit. I leaned back against the table, a book fell off and I bent over and picked it up. It was pretty fancy leather with writin' in gold:

Rural Information Distribution Systems.

Below the title was the author's name: Clemence Ridley Broden, PhD.

### "Like it?" he says, seein' me readin' the cover. He had a bloody big grin on his chops. "Now young fella," he says, "your name Rita?"

### "Yeah, Rita," I says. Jerk.

### "Lookin' for Miss Fenton?" he says.

### "Yeah, Fenton," I says.

### "Lookin' fer a dead lass, are yuh? That's tough suckin' fer a square mouthed calf," he says, grinnin'. Jerk. Then he points with a crooked thumb. "Terry is up the road a ways. Grey house, edge o' town."

### I got up and left right away. The guy gave me the creeps.

When I got to the grey house it was dark but I saw my old Chev outside so I walked around and looked in every window. One room had a candle burnin' and it looked like two bodies was makin' out on the couch. Then one got up and looked right at me and I beetled out in back and hid in the bushes which was soakin' wet and now I was soakin' wet! Shit.

### In a minute or so the back door opened and some broad came out and looked around. She was naked as a jaybird. I could see that, soon as she stepped onto the porch. The moon was right up there and she wasn't tryin' to hide nothin'. I recognized the face from the photos in the paper: Fenton. Next thing you know, another dude came out and I could see it was Cleaver.

### Shit! That bastard was screwing the Fenton bitch!

### "C'mon," I could hear him say. "Come back inside." They both went inside and I felt like a turkey. I come all this way to Dunnborne and he's screwin' the same broad he's been lookin' for. I waited for a minute then headed out front. I'd take my bloody car and leave him there. Bastard. Then, just as I was opening the car door I heard a noise, turned around and got it right in the chops.

### Everything went black.

### Terry Cleaver

I've never felt like this before. She came on so quick, so sudden, I didn't have time to think about it. She was like a wild creature, tearing my shirt and running her nails across my shoulders and moaning Breath of Life and Lord of the World and who knows what else. A wild thing, she took charge of everything and I felt weak and could hardly breathe.

### But it was good and I didn't say anything until she got up and went out back. Then I didn't want it to stop.

### That's when she began to cry and I felt like I had done something wrong, but it was her that ran the show. I just went along for the ride, a wonderful, glorious ride.

### But now she was crying, all in a heap on the floor.

### "Connie, what's wrong?"

### She looked up at me, her eyes glinting tears in the light of the candle.

### "You took advantage of me," she moaned. "I am but a lamb and you have ravished me."

### I could hardly believe what I was hearing. I had ravished her? Who was this girl? She'd changed. Before my eyes she had changed.

### Then all hell broke loose.

### The door caved in and two great bodies lurched forward and grabbed me and threw me to the floor. I could hear Connie crying out. Then something hit me, hard, in the side of the head and that's all I remember.

### When I woke up I was alone in the middle of the floor - and my head was throbbing. I got up and wandered around for a bit, but the whole house was empty. I looked out a front window and saw my car was still there, so I headed for the door. It was bloody dark outside.

### Then I saw the body, lying by the car. Jesus Murphy! A bloody corpse right by the car. I didn't know if I should run for help, or what. Then the corpse started groaning and I started shaking. Then I recognized her.

### "Rita! Jesus Murphy, what are you doing here?"

### She grabbed the fender and pulled herself up.

### "Shit!" she screamed, coming at me with both fists. "You screwed that Fenton bitch!"

### I backed away and we fell, together, Rita landing on my gut with both elbows. "Bastard! You bloody bastard!"

### "No, no. It's not what you think," I pleaded. "She just ... I didn't ..." But then she started pounding my chest and I was lucky to roll out from under without getting killed.

When we'd finished the burgers and chocolate shake it was about 8:30 p.m. and it was dark. We'd been at the burger shop next to the Press for maybe thirty minutes. Rita seemed quiet, like she didn't really give a damn anymore. I kept looking at her, but she just stared at her plate. I took her hand, but she pulled away. I really couldn't explain what had happened and I felt pretty stupid.

### That's when this guy comes over and sits down at our table.

### "Rita Bullas and Terry Cleaver, I presume," he says.

### Ian Woolner

### First I went to Gobles, to see Benjamin Fenton. He still didn't know anything, not where his daughter was, not where his sons were. I believed him.

### "Then tell me about your wife. I understand that she was murdered. Could you tell me about it?"

### Ben seemed nervous. He got up from the table and started wandering about the room, ending up staring at a photo on the wall. I knew what it was: his wife holding Connie in her arms.

### "Work of the devil," he muttered. Then he came back to the table and opened the bible. I knew what was coming. I had had a reading before and I wasn't about to sit through another. I got up and left. Mr. Fenton didn't bother to see me out.

I drove to Dunnborne to see Clem. It had been raining and the town was a field of mud. I stopped by the Press and Clem seemed glad to see me. I asked him about Cleaver and Bullas; had he seen them?

### "Yup, just today. First that young pup with freckles, then his boy friend, Rita." Clem grinned and his tooth slipped over his lower lip.

### "And you say they both went to Miss Fenton's house?"

### "Yup, both."

### I got up.

### "But they ain't there now."

### I sat down.

### "They's next door, eatin'." Clem pulled his pipe from his jeans and began sucking it.

### "I'll just pop by, next door, and see them," I says.

### Just as I got to the door, Clem says "Wanna hear 'bout Jonah and Joshua?" This guy could drive anyone mad. Sometimes he talks a blue streak. Other times, just a word, teasing. I walked back and sat down. Clem just grinned and sucked his pipe. "Found 'em at the house, they did."

### "Who found who?" I says.

### "Found whom," Clem says, grinning.

### "Yeah, yeah ... whom," I says.

### "Jonah, Joshua. Found the young buck and his boyfriend at the house, Connie's house." He leans back, grins. "Knocks 'em cold. But they come round and now they's eatin' next door."

### I got up, waited to see if Clem would say anything else, then looked out the window. It was dark and the rain had started again, but the burger shop was lit up like a neon Christmas tree with stringers from post to post.

### "Thanks Clem," I says. "Anything else?"

### "Nope. That's it."

### So I left and went next door.

### Connie Fenton

### "You're mean. You didn't have to hurt him."

### They were sitting side-by-side and they were both staring at me. They had carried me to their truck, drove me to this cabin and all the while they had said nothing. I've never been here before, but I knew that Papa and my brothers used it when they went hunting for grouse. They'd stay away for days and I'd be left alone. It wasn't fair. I could handle a rifle as well as anyone and hunting would have been exciting, exhilarating.

### Jonah reached out and touched my hand. He was very sweet - and concerned.

### "I'm okay, really," I said. "Clem let me live in his house and I worked at Jim's Lunch. I'm okay."

### "The letters," Jonah said.

### "Yes, I got several letters. They scared me and I ran away, but I've been fine. He won't find me here."

### "The priest," Jonah said.

### "Yes, Father Pollicciano," I said.

### Joshua slid from his chair and knelt by my side. He ran his hand over my knee and I could tell he was about to cry. I placed my hands on his head and pulled him to my breast - and he did cry, softly and quietly.

### "The priest is dead," said Jonah.

### I gasped.

### "You are safe ... now," said Jonah.

### "Dear, dear Jonah," I said and reached out for him. He came and placed his head upon my knee.

### "My world is whole again," I whispered, and they knelt before me and I kissed them both.

### Pink

### "Great Lord of the World, Breath of Life, the evil scribe is no more. His body has been dismantled; his soul cast aside.

### Ian Woolner

### When I sat at the table and said who I was, Cleaver went white and the Bullas girl was about to jump up and run. I grabbed her shoulder.

### "Hold on, sweetheart. You're not going anywhere."

### Then I sat and they stared.

### "Got a few questions to ask," I says. "First off, why'd you break into the police files?" I looked straight at Rita Bullas and she went red in the cheek.

### "I ... uh, we ..." she started.

### "It was my idea," Cleaver says. "I was looking for the bastard who got Connie ... Miss Fenton. Rita had my job at the mill, I asked her, pleaded with her -"

### "Bullshit!" Rita says. "It was my idea. We needed to know what the fuck you guys was doin', so I pulled your files."

"Then you know that the murdered girl ...," I left the sentence open, to see just what they did know.

### "Was Leah Farrel," says Cleaver. "And Connie's alive."

### "Oh?" I says, trying not to appear surprised. "Have you seen her?"

### "He screwed the bitch!" shouts Rita, and I could see the proprietor heading our way.

### "Keep it down," he says.

### "It's okay," I says. "I'm Ian Woolner, Haversville police."

### That makes Rita jump up again, but I pull her back to the table.

### "When?" I says. "Today?"

### "Well ... uh," Cleaver mumbles.

### "Yeah, today!" shouts Rita.

### Just then the front door opens and in walks Clem Broden.

### "A call, for you," he says. "My place." Then he walks to the table and pats Rita on the head. "Hi sonny," he says, and Rita jumps up again and heads for the door.

### "What! When did it happen? I talked to him just this morning."

### Chuck seemed almost pleased to tell me, as though I was somehow responsible or maybe should have known it would happen or maybe I was neglecting my job by driving to Dunnborne.

### "Well, he's dead as a doornail," Chuck says. "His housekeeper, a Mrs. Walker, she found him and phoned. I'm there now, at Saint Teresa's."

### "Cause of death?" I ask.

### "Hit good with a blunt instrument, then chewed up."

"Chewed up? Like Leah Farrel?"

### "You got it," Chuck says.

### By the time I got to the church in Haversville, Chuck had taken fingerprints and photos, questioned Mrs. Walker and several neighbors and made out a report. He was good, but he wasn't getting my job - not soon.

### I inspected the body. Chuck was right; it had been badly mauled, yet there was something missing.

### "You think it's the same guy who slaughtered the Farrel girl?" I ask Chuck.

### "The same," he says. He's sitting in the big red leather chair, leaning back, his legs spread out onto the carpet. I look again at the body, bleeding from every limb, yet every limb is there.

### "Let me show you something," I says, and I walk to Pollicciano's body.

### "See this?" I point to the body, making a big show of it. "All in one piece."

### Chuck leans forward and grins. "So? Look at the scars, the cuts, pieces of flesh cut right off, there, on the floor." He looks pretty smug.

"But all in one piece," I says. "The psychopath who killed Farrel tore the body apart. That's how he operates. Tear the body apart. This body is in one piece."

Chuck snorts. "That's how he operates? You gotta be kidding. One murder, out at Miller's Creek, and you extrapolate to a method of operation? The guy's a nut. Who knows what he'll do next time?"

### Chuck is good, but not brilliant.

### Rita Bullas

### This prick kept pullin' me back to the table like I was some hooker. No way to treat a woman, the jerk. Then he gets this phone call and leaves - and Cleaver and I check out, fast, and drive back to old lady Harris' house. The old dame is worried, but has a big smile when she sees us. She even gives me a hug. What's all this shit? A hug? What am I? Some snot-nosed young kid?

### I don't hardly sleep at all, but Cleaver is snorin' and grinnin' from ear to ear - and I know what the bastard is dreamin' about. The dirty shit.

### Next mornin' I head off to work, early. Cleaver is still snorin'. I don't leave him my car. Let the bastard walk.

### In the afternoon, when Buck Tormin ain't lookin', I try to hook into the Haversville police files, but the buggers have closed up shop, maybe thinkin' I can't get into their mini. Screw 'em. Just watch me. I login to the Dunnborne police computer and remote login to Haversville. I'm in, slick as shit, and there's a new file: Pollicciano. The priest is dead.

### When I tell Cleaver that night, he goes white in the chops.

### "Jesus Murphy," he says. "The killer will be after Connie next."

### I don't see how he figures that. Then he jumps up from the couch and heads up the stairs and out the side door. I follow, two steps at a time, but when I get outside Cleaver is just standin' there, starin'.

### "What's up Cleaver?" I says.

He just looks at me, sort of stupid-like. "What do I do now? What can I do now?" he says.

### "Forget it," I says. "The police know everythin'. Let 'em handle it. That broad ain't worth ..."

### "Yesterday ... when we were in Dunnborne ... I saw something unusual in Connie's house, something strange, through the window ..."

### "She was probably screwin' ..."

### "Connie's in danger. I know it!" Then he starts runnin' down the walk and makes a right at the street. He's headin' for the bus stop. Jerk. Doesn't even ask if I'd drive him to Dunnborne. Good thing. I wouldn't.

When he's out of sight I head back down to his rooms in the basement. Then I crack open a beer. Then I watch some TV. Then I think what the hell am I doin' at his place? ... so I drive home and check out my Aunt. She's okay, I guess. By eight o'clock it was dark and I just stare out the window, then I figure maybe I should drive to Dunnborne, just in case ...

### Terry Cleaver

### The bus seemed to take forever to get to Dunnborne, so I had a long time to think. At first I was thinking of Connie, of pink letters, of the death of Father Pollicciano, of the wierd dance I saw at Connie's house. After awhile I started thinking of Rita. She was pretty angry and I guess I can't blame her. It's not that we were really going together or even that we were boyfriend and girlfriend ... except, I guess we'd become pretty close. Maybe I should explain. But explain what? That I had been taken by storm? Raped? Rubbish! I was a willing mate; it was something I had dreamed about since that first day at Cleaver's Pond. That seemed a long time ago.

### When the bus pulled into the parking lot next to the post office, I realized I didn't know what I was doing in Dunnborne. I should have spent the time thinking of my next move.

It was cold and damp and I was freezing and I didn't have a clue what to do next. Somehow I was reluctant to walk to Connie's house and just peek in the window again, so I headed for the hamburger shop next to the Dunnborne Press. It was almost ten o'clock and the place was empty. I ordered a coffee at the counter then sat next to the window, staring into the dark street. I guess I was daydreaming because I didn't even notice the door open, and when Clem Broden sat across from me, I jumped.

### "Hello there young fella," he said. The steam from his coffee curled up around his withered face and he was smiling. He always seemed to be smiling. Connie was in danger, might be dead even now, and he kept on smiling. "Whatchya doin' in town on a chilly night ..."

"Connie, danger now," I blurted out, incoherently. "I mean, she's in danger ... I mean, she may be in danger. I thought, maybe ..."

### "Thought you'd save her from the evil clutches of Father Pollicciano?" he said. "He's dead, you know."

### "Yes ..." I didn't know what to say. I just stared at Clem.

### "Leave it to the police, young fella. Wise men don't play leapfrog with unicorns," he said.

### "But Connie, she may be danger ... uh, in danger. I saw a dance, some people through the window, dancing, a light on the floor ..." I stopped talking. Clem stopped smiling. He set down his cup and grabbed my hand.

### "Leave it be!" he said, and I could feel anger in his voice. "It's not for you! The authorities know everything. They'll protect Connie. Go home. There's nothing you can do."

### Somehow his anger made me angry and I knew what I had to do. I ran out the door. Clem was yelling after me, but I didn't listen. I headed up the street toward Connie's house. If there had been strangers there last night, then Connie would know. I could talk to her. She thought she was in danger from the priest. I'd tell her that Pollicciano was dead, that she should move out of Dunnborne, that she should stay with me ... live with me ... share my rooms, my life ...

### Do I really mean that? Share my life?

### I stopped at the end of the long driveway. There was a dim light in the window. Christ, I was shaking all over.

### The room was dark except for what looked like a candle in the middle of the floor, and three dark figures were sitting about the flickering light. I stood at the front window for what seemed a long time, but they didn't move. Then, suddenly, two got up, stood for a while, then slowly left the circle of light. I could hear the front door open; I didn't know where to hide. I sat on the wet ground, among the bushes. They walked slowly down the long driveway, turned once to look back, then headed across the road and straight into the field. When I pulled myself to the window again, my heart was pounding in my chest and sweat was trickling salty down my cheek. I looked into the window. The third figure was gone. I was almost relieved and sat again among the bushes.

Then a light came on and I heard footsteps, on the front porch. I was almost too frightened to look. What in God's name was I doing there?

### A dark figure stepped down the stairs, onto the grass, walked directly to my bush, leaned forward, parted the branches. I was as small as I could be, curled behing the hedge. I looked up at the face, in shadow from the porch light.

### "Terrence?"

### Jesus Murphy, it was Connie! I jumped up, fell out of the bush and stumbled toward her.

### "Connie! You've danger ... in danger, live with me ..." I gurgled.

### She took my hand and I could hardly breathe. Then she led me into the house, to a sofa, and she sat next to me, very close, leaning against me. When I got my breath again I said it, perhaps too loudly.

### "Father Pollicciano is dead!"

### I expected surprise, relief, some reaction. She just placed her hand on mine, leaned toward me and kissed me gently on the cheek.

### "Yes," she said, simply.

### "But ... but you said kill you ... uh, he wanted to ..."

### Connie put her finger to my lips and I held my breath. She whispered.

### "Yes, Father Pollicciano did want to kill me. I knew it the moment I spoke to him in the church. He knew everything. He knew too much. He killed Leah, my best friend. Now the evil man is dead."

### "But whoever killed him ... surely is after you ... you're next. Can't you see that!" I couldn't understand how she could be so calm.

### Calmly, she said "I know who killed Father Pollicciano." When I opened my mouth, she put her finger again to my lips and continued. "My two jays killed him, to protect me." I opened my mouth again, but nothing came out. "Jonah ... Joshua ...to protect me," she said. "So, you see, the evil one is dead and all is well with the Lord's world for it is cleansed of the devil's kin."

### I collapsed onto the sofa, slid to the floor, covering my face with my hands. I wanted to cry. Connie slid beside me and began to caress my cheek.

### "No!" I jumped to my feet. "We can't ... shouldn't ... Rita ..." Before I knew it I was out the front door, running down the driveway. I didn't even see Rita. She jumped left, I jogged left and we collided and went down together, embracing.

### "Shit on this, Cleaver," she grunted and pushed me away. I jumped to my feet, offered her my hand. "Screw you," she said.

### Clem Broden

### I saw them leave, both of them. They climbed into that beat up Chev and left town in a cloud of blue exhaust. I walked down the street and stood for a long time staring at the old grey brick house with its green shutters and bloody awful purple picket fence. One day I'll paint that fence.

### I could see Connie in the window, holding the curtain aside. I'm sure she saw me, too, but she let the curtains fall and walked away and soon the light blinked out and the house was dark. Her brothers had come, taken Connie, then brought her home again. A funny pair, those brothers.

### I looked at my watch. It was almost eleven o'clock and I had a big day tomorrow. I'd write up the whole Fenton affair for the Thursday paper. I'd say that "usually reliable sources implicate Father Pollicciano in the death of Leah Farrel".

### It wasn't true ... but I'd write it up that way anyhow.

### Terry Cleaver

The winter seemed colder than usual, and longer. Then Rita's aunt died, in early February, and I never felt so cold and alone. Rita went into hiding. I didn't see her for weeks at a time. She wouldn't answer the phone and when I walked to her house - it was now her house since her aunt had left everything to Rita - she wouldn't answer the doorbell. I'm sure she was really broken up, but Rita didn't like to see people cry, especially herself, I think. I had checked with that bastard Buck Tormin and he confirmed that Rita had showed up for work every day. When I tried to see her at the mill, the black suit stood in my way. When I think of it, old Buck seemed to be protecting Rita's privacy. Maybe he's not such a bad guy.

### Anyway, by mid-February I was going bananas and was ready to bash her door down just to see that she was okay.

### I got a job at the law firm of Sawyer and Maskowski, computerizing their files, and that often meant working evenings and weekends when the office was closed. It was Sunday, the last day of February, and although I had often worked Sundays at the law office, I had this day off.

### When Mrs. Harris called down, her voice was almost shaking with excitement.

### "Terry! Somebody special to see you!"

### "Send him down, please."

### I rarely get company - well, if the truth be known, I never get company. So I ran into the washroom, straightened my shirt collar, pushed my hair back out of my eyes and walked as casual as I could into the living room. Rita was standing by the stairs.

### "Rita!" I ran to her, grabbed her in my arms and tried to kiss her soundly.

### "What's all this shit?" she said and backed away, but I could tell she was pleased to see me. "Just came by to see how's things hangin'." She looked at me straight, the hint of a grin on her face and I saw that she had been crying. I tried to push her hair from her eyes - she had let it grow long and sort of tangled - but she would have none of that.

### "Sit," I said, pointing to the sofa. "What's been happening? I tried to phone, to see you at work, to ..."

### "Yeah, I know," she said. "I been busy. Aunt died, you know. Gotta look after a fuckin' stack of papers, talk to the lawyers, get things straight ... shit like that."

### "I was sorry to hear about your aunt," I said. "Guess you miss her." I felt I shouldn't say too much because she was about to break down and cry.

### "Didn't know her, not too much, just looked after her a bit, until she went and ... and dropped dead on me."

### "Well, let's not talk about it," I said. "Let's talk about ..."

### "Cleaver, I been gettin' pink letters," she said, all of a sudden. Then she did cry, big heaving sobs, and she let me hold her, even tightly and she cried hard on my shoulder. I was taken aback and it felt so good that I hadn't really paid attention to what she had said. Then it hit me.

### "What! Letters! What you said, pink letters?" The words came rushing out, crazy. "Pink letters? Is that what you said?"

### She didn't say anything for a few moments, just holding me as though she didn't want to leave my arms. Then, slowly, she reached for her bag - an old green duffle bag - and pulled out the envelopes; three of them. I took them and read them aloud. They were identical.

### Sister of the devil, no more shall man covet thy body. Thy wickedness shall be dismantled.

### "When did you get these? There's no date," I said.

### "Each Monday mornin', for three weeks. They's stuck under the door. I stayed up all night last Sunday, waiting for the dirty shit. Nobody came. I dressed, left the house for the mill, and the letter was there, again, under the door. Tomorrow ... tomorrow ..." and she began to cry again, falling into my arms.

### "Yes, I know," I said. "Tomorrow is Monday."

It had started again. The pink letters, the threats, the sister of the devil, just like with Connie Fenton. "I thought it was over," I mumbled. "I really thought it was over."

I stayed at Rita's house that Sunday night, and no letter came in the morning. She went to work and I stayed home, her home. I called Mr. Woolner that day. The inspector was out of town and I spoke to his assistant who was convinced I was joking about the pink letters. He said he'd investigate. Crap! He wouldn't do anything, I know that. I said I'd phone back when Mr. Woolner returned. He said there was no need, but I knew I had to speak to the inspector in person.

### That evening I went back to my rooms in the basement of Mrs. Harris' house, but Rita phoned at six, then at seven, then again at eight ... so I let her pick me up in the old Chev and we stayed up most of the night, talking. By morning we had decided. I would leave Mrs. Harris and move in with Rita. It would be platonic, we'd share the expenses right down the middle, I'd wash the dishes and she'd dry, and we'd never ever cook Swiss Chard.

### On Tuesday we both went to tell Mrs. Harris. She seemed to think we were getting married, and she cried and hugged Rita and I could swear that Rita hugged her back. Anyway, we let her think we were getting married.

### By Friday I had moved all my things to Rita's house, and said goodbye a thousand times to Mrs. Harris. When I finally left for the last time, I carried a meatloaf to end all meatloaves. It was gargantuan, to last a week. When Rita got home I had the dinner table all set, the meatloaf steaming on a huge platter trimmed in gold, surrounded by a ring of Brussel Sprouts - which I love.

Rita wasn't impressed with the vegetables, insisting that we had agreed not to serve "that shit", but she tackled the meatloaf with such gusto that I wanted to cry, seeing her so happy, having forgotten all about the pink threats.

### That was Friday evening. On Saturday morning a fourth pink letter was under the door. It said:

### Sister of the devil, this man shall know thy wickedness.

I read it twice. This man? That was me!

### I could hear Rita mumbling something about Connie Fenton. When I looked up, Rita was gone. She wanted to be alone, had gone to her room. I understood. She would cry, alone. I left a note for her, took the keys to the car and headed down Vine Street in the old Chev. Inspector Woolner was to be back in the office on Monday, March 8. I couldn't wait. Wherever he had been, chances are he would have returned this weekend. I was going to find out.

I knew exactly where he lived. I had walked by his house a thousand times. When I pulled up, he was shovelling the last bit of snow from his driveway. He didn't recognize me at first, then, when he did, he didn't seemed pleased to see me.

### "Mr. Cleaver. To what do I owe this honor?" he said, leaning on his shovel.

### "There are more letters ... here, see?" and I held out a handful of envelopes. He didn't even look at them. He just looked tired. Then he waved me toward the door and I waited while he removed his boots and placed them carefully by the step.

"Come in young man," he said. "More pink letters, I presume?"

### "Yes, yes, pink," I stuttered. He knew! It was no surprise! Perhaps the pink killer had struck again, somewhere, recently, and the inspector had been out of town investigating the case.

### "My asistant told me you had called," he said. "Sit here. Let me read them." I put the enevlopes into his hand just as a woman walked in, surprised.

### "Oh, sorry, I didn't know you had ..."

### "No, it's alright dear. This is Mr. Terry Cleaver. He has come with a problem."

### "Hello Mr. Cleaver," she said. "Can I get you some coffee? Freshly made. Ian needs his coffee after shovelling snow." She winked at her husband and I wasn't sure what to say.

### "No thank you, coffee," I mumbled. "Uh ... no, thank you."

### After she left, Inspector Woolner sighed and dropped the letters on the table.

### "It's as I expected," he said. "Just a matter of time ... sooner or later he'd show his hand again." He looked straight at me as though I knew what he was talking about. Then I knew what I had to say.

### "But the priest is dead. Connie said that. And it's over ... should be over. Connie said that, too."

"No, it's not over," he said, staring at the ceiling. "Somebody killed Leah Farrel. Somebody else killed Father Pollicciano. The case is still open. We haven't had a new clue in months - to either murder."

### Then I realized that I knew more than the Inspector. I couldn't contain my excitement.

### "The jays killed Polly!" I cried, and I could feel my face redden.

### "The what killed who?"

### Connie's brothers, the jays, they had killed Polly - we all called him Polly. Jonah and Joshua wanted to protect Connie. Inspector Woolner didn't know that. I shouldn't implicate them. I had made a mistake in bringing it up.

### "I'm sorry. I thought you knew who killed Father Pollicciano," I said.

### He looked at me, frowning. "Who did it?"

### It sounded like a grade B movie. I had to protect Connie and her brothers. "I don't know," I said. "Don't you know?"

### He grunted and looked again at the ceiling.

"We're after two killers. Pollicciano may have killed Leah Farrel. I doubt it very much, but Clem Broden has everyone in the county believing it. Old Clem just won't let up with his Press stories. But then who killed the priest?" He looked at me, but I didn't know the answer. "I'll tell you who did it," he said, and I held my breath.

### Just then, his wife walked in with his coffee and he sipped it slowly, staring at me over the rim of the cup. Then he got up, gathered the letters from the table and pointed to the door. "Mr. Cleaver, I'll keep these if you don't mind. Tell your lady friend not to worry. I'll keep a watch on her house. But tell her not to go out of town ... not for awhile, anyway."

### When I got back home I felt a little better. The police were on to something, I was certain. It was just a matter of time before they caught up with the killer. Isn't that what the Inspector had said?

No, he said that it was just a matter of time before the killer showed his hand again - and now he had ... and it was now Rita's life in jeopardy.

### I felt sick.

### Rita Bullas

### Why me? I didn't do nothin'. Whoever the shit is ... sendin' me pink letters ... he's in for a surprise. No way I'll sit back and take this crap.

Cleaver is nice. It's been good havin' him here. I can relax, think, plan my next move. I was real scared for a while ... well, sort of scared, anyway. Now I go to Dunnborne, talk to that bitch. She got pink shit too. She ain't so dumb. She knows something. So I go out the back door - so Cleaver don't see me - and bloody hell, my Chev is gone! So I storms back in the house to tell Cleaver - and bloody hell, he's gone!

### Then I see the note and he's gone to see the cops. Nice guy, Cleaver. So I take the bus to Dunnborne.

### I get there about ten and go straight to the bitch's house. First I check in the windows. Nobody home. I bang the door. No answer. Shit! I come all this way for nothin'.

### I was sittin' for maybe ten minutes on the porch when I see her comin' down the street. I hide in the bushes. She comes up the drive, sets down her parcels on the porch, pulls out a key and opens the door, then she leans over the rail and says, "You can come in for tea if you like."

### Is she talkin' to me? No way. I'm hid.

### "Rita, please come in. I'll make some tea and we can talk." Then she walks inside and leaves the door open. What the hell. I go in and take a chair and spread out, casual, like I knew what was comin' off. When she comes in, she's got a pot and some cups. She sits on the chair, across a little table from the sofa.

### "How nice to see you," she says.

### "Yeah," I says.

### "How's Terrence," she says.

### Terrence? She calls him Terrence? Turd.

"Terry is fine, great. We're livin' together." I say it heavy and figure she gets my message.

### "Yes, I know," she says.

Christ. She knows? Must be written up in the Press or somethin'. That shit, Clem.

### "Yeah," I says.

### "Some tea?"

I lean forward and look at her straight. "The pink letters - you got some. Now I got some!" I wait for her to say somethin', but she just pours the bloody tea. So I says, "How'd you feel? I mean, when you got the pink shit?" She hands me a cup then looks at me, quiet, sad. She's not bad lookin'. When I takes the cup she leans over the table and puts her hand on my knee. What's this shit?

### "Rita, I know how you feel, truly I do," she says. "But it's over now. The evil one is dismantled."

### Dismantled? What's that? The evil one? Who's that? I move my leg and she takes her hand away.

"It ain't over 'cause I been gettin' letters, pink ones," I says. "Just like you was."

### "Let me tell you a story," she says, and I figure that I came to the right place. This is what I gotta hear: the story.

"I lived in Gobles with my father and two brothers. It was idyllic, but I wanted to live my life to the fullest, so I moved to Haversville. There I met a girl, Leah, and we became very good friends, best friends."

Like maybe you had your hand on her knee? I think to myself.

"Then, one day, I found Leah's body by the pond, off Blair Road. I knew somebody was after me."

### "Wait a sec," I says. "Why you? How'd you know ..."

### "Leah wore my pink bathing suit," she says right off. "The evil one thought it was me, swimming, with a pink ..."

### "Who's this evil turd?" I say. Maybe I should talk nicer. "Who's this evil guy?"

### "Father Pollicciano," she says. Before I have a chance to say anythin', she goes on. "I know it was him because I went to him after Leah was killed, and he knew everything. How could he know everything? Because he was the devil's kin and he dismantled her body and when he saw me he knew he had made a mistake and he would come after me and ..."

"Wait a sec," I says. "Old Polly got it, too. So who cut him off?"

"My jays," she says, and she smiles and takes a sip of tea. "I told Terrence. He knows." Then she puts her cup down and smiles right at me and says, "I'm surprised he didn't tell you."

### That dirty shit, Cleaver. He knew all along? He knew who killed Polly?

### "Your jays?" I says. "Who the fuck ... uh, who's that?"

"Jonah and Joshua," she says, then she starts collectin' the cups, then she leaves the room and when she comes back she's got a rag or somethin', and it's pink!

### "Here," she says. "Put this on. It's a shawl that once belonged to my mother. It would look good on you." Then she comes back of the sofa and I just sit there and she drops the shawl over my shoulders. She straightens it out, running her hands down my back, slow and soft. She's a wierdo! Then she comes out front and looks down at me and says, "Doesn't it look nice? Joshua, don't you think it fits, perfectly? Jonah, don't you think it makes a beautiful shroud?"

### Joshua? Jonah? Is she nuts? Then I sees these two big guys in the corner of the room. Was they there all the time? Then they come out of the dark and they comes toward me.

### Ian Woolner

### When Mr. Cleaver left I phoned my assistant. Chuck was at the office, as usual, and even seemed pleased to hear from me.

### Before I had a chance to say anything, he says, "They're back. The killers are back."

### "Because of the letters?" I said.

### "There's something else," Chuck said. I could see his grin, imagine his delight. It was something I had missed. "The Bullas gal. She's gone off to Dunnborne."

### Damn! Rita Bullas was possibly the next victim. Now she plays right into the hands of the killers.

### "But you've got her followed, right?" I said. "And you know where she is, right? So maybe it's a lucky break. Maybe -"

### "No. Like I told you ... the killers are back," Chuck said. I know he wants me to ask a question, displaying some ignorance of an obvious fact.

### "Okay, Chuck. What am I missing?"

### "This morning we found the Fenton boys. They were holed up in some mountain cabin. Then they show up in Dunnborne, this morning, at the house where the Fenton gal is staying." He waits.

### "So?" I said.

### "That's precisely where the Bullas dame is, right this minute." He grins, right through the phone.

### Damn!

### "I'm heading to Dunnborne, now." Then I hang up, then I kiss my bewildered wife goodbye and drive to Dunnborne.

We knew that there were two killers. I had convinced Chuck that the bodies of Leah Farrel and Father Pollicciano had been mutilated by different people. Similar, but different. The Fenton boys were natural suspects. They had opportunity - and motive. Or, at least, enough motive for them. For years, they had been Connie's closest and best friends. Then Leah Farrel enters the picture. The boys are enraged and tear Miss Farrel apart. Connie thinks it's the priest; tells her brothers. She's afraid, so they tear the priest apart. Maybe to please Connie, maybe to throw suspician off themselves - but they're not smart enough for that. To please Connie. Two killers. Two J's.

### I looked at the speedometer: 85 mph. Better slow down. It was starting to snow or rain or maybe a bit of both.

Then, another of Connie's best friends enters the picture: Terry Cleaver. He moves in with Rita Bullas. Connie is displeased. Her brothers start up again, with the pink letters, to please Connie. Yet, we can't find the brothers.

### The "Welcome to Dunnborne" sign had blown down last Fall, and someone just leaned it against a tree. It was still there, now half covered in wet snow. I drove straight to Fenton's house, expecting to see Bullas' old Chev out front, but the place was deserted. I peered into the windows. Nothing. If Rita Bullas had come here, she wasn't here now. If the Fenton brothers had come here, they weren't here now. I went back to the car and talked to Chuck over the phone.

### "So where are they?" I asked.

"How should I know?" he said. "Aren't you right there? I should be asking you that question."

### "The police tail," I suggested. "Remember? You were to put a tail on Bullas. So has he reported in?"

### "Well ... he lost her. He dropped in for a coffee ... apparently it's cold and damp and when he came out ..."

### "I know bloody well what the weather's like!" I shouted. "I'm right in the middle of it!" Then I hung up. Then I drove to Clem Broden's place. He was sleeping, but came to the door and made some coffee and we talked. Clem seemed to know everything. Maybe he knew something about the Fenton boys.

### "Yup, they was here," he said. "Gone now, though." Then he sucked on an empty pipe and grinned.

### "Where?" I asked. "Do you know?"

### "I figure they took the little guy to the cabin," he said.

### "The little guy?" I said. "You mean Rita Bullas?"

### "Yup."

### "Damn! She's in grave danger. They'll kill her, you know." I got up to leave.

### "Nope," Clem said.

"I know your theory. It's was your favorite Press story for months: Pollicciano implicated in the death of Leah Farrel. I just don't believe it. The Fenton boys. They have motive and ..."

Nope," he said. So I waited for him to say something more, but he just grinned from behind his pipe. I headed for the door. "Connie," he said, then paused for a long time, then didn't continue that sentence but started another. "The little guy's safe, so long as the jays are around ... and they are around."

"What the hell does that mean?" I said, a bit angry. But old Clem just grinned, so I left. When I got to the car, I realized I didn't know where this cabin was located. I could phone Chuck. He would be pleased to tell me something I didn't know. I got out of the car and was about to head back to Clem's house. He'd know where the cabin was. Then I saw the old Chevy drive by, heading for the Fenton's old house on the edge of town. My tires spun on the gravel as I pulled after the the Bullas car.

### Terry Cleaver

I was frantic. I had returned home, Rita's home, after seeing Inspector Woolner, and she was gone. I searched for a note; none. I called Buck Tormin to see if she went to work, even though it was Saturday. He seemed concerned that she was missing. Was that concern for Rita? It probably meant he'd have to get another computer operator. I went to the grocery store, the beer store, the local movie house, Kelly's bar ... she was really gone.

### Then, somehow, I knew where she'd be. When I saw her last, we were reading the last pink note ... and Rita was mumbling something about Connie Fenton. She'd go to Dunnborne. She'd ask Connie ... what? I didn't have the slightest idea how Connie could help Rita, but I felt sure that was where she had gone.

### When I got to Dunnborne, I drove straight to Connie's house and banged on the door. No answer. Then a car drove up and Woolner got out.

"They're not there," he shouted. "The place is empty, but I think I know where they are. Hop in." I got into his car and he headed to the Dunnborne Press. They were in the newspaper building? Not likely.

### "Mr. Woolner, I think ..."

### "Wait here. I'll only be a minute." Then he ran to the door and pushed it open and disappeared. In a minute he reappeared, slid into his seat and we took off in a big hurry. "The cabin," he said. "We'll find them there."

### I wasn't sure where we were going or even whether we were loking for the same person ... or persons.

### "Rita's gone," I said. "After I spoke to you I went home and ..."

### "Yes, I know. She came here, to Dunnborne, and Miss Fenton's brothers came here, and now they're all at a cabin in the hills." He looked at me. "And I'm afraid that Rita Bullas is in danger."

### I could hardly breathe. Sweat was running into my eyes. Except for the hum of the engine, it was quiet for some time.

### "I'm afraid, but I'm not sure why," I said. "You told me, this morning, that you knew who killed Polly. You told me ..."

### "The Fenton brothers," he said, still staring straight ahead at the black and slushy road. "And they have Rita Bullas."

### I felt sick, again. It seemed like I'd been sick all day. I looked at my watch. Just after 11:30.

### Pink

### Soon ... the sister of the devil will no more evoke the lust of men, no more display the evil pink, no more walk the earth to do her evil.

### Great Lord of the World, Breath of Life, weep not for the damned for I will cleanse the world of the devil's kin.

### Clem Broden

### How long can I keep this secret, this evil secret.

### I loved Norah. God knows, I loved her dearly. And she made me promise to watch over the child, even as she gave birth, even as she moaned with the ache of creation, even as she cried with tears of joy, with tears of pain. And I did promise, for what was Benjamin to do? The man had cried out, speaking of the devil and the evils of mankind. Even as his wife gave birth, he spoke of the cursed sexual act, of the devil's game which must be played to provide renewed life.

### Norah had been afraid. Benjamin had not forgiven her having yet another child. One day, we shall see justice done. Benjamin Fenton cannot continue to harbour such evil feelings in his bosom, such depraved desires to eliminate all that is pink. I sit here, knowing all yet doing nothing. I must act now, not only to protect Norah's child, but to stop these senseless killings. Connie is safe in her brothers' keeping, yet Benjamin will stop at nothing to destroy her. I must act now... finally, after years of torment, years in which I remained anchored to a life of pain, in memory of the only woman I ever loved; Norah Fenton, beautiful in pink. Connie Fenton, her child, my child, born in an act of passion at a time when we loved one another with such eagerness. Now is my time to act. Now.

### Terry Cleaver: One Year Later

### Okay, so it's finally over. It took nearly a year, but now it's over. I never suspected old man Broden. The trial lasted just one day. Clem Broden admitted to everything, his love for Connie's mother, his eventual anger at the evil committed by Connie's father, Benjamin... and his decision to end it, to protect Connie. He killed Benjamin Fenton in the Fall, last year and that was the end of all the pink letters. It's surprising, now that I think of it, that Mr. Fenton was never suspected. He hated his daughter? That didn't seem real.

### Anyway, Clem Broden is now in Haversville prison. He'll be there for his remaining years. He never admitted to being Connie's biological father, but he did tell Connie and Connie told me and Rita. I don't think that Ian Woolner ever knew the true story. He was just happy that he had solved the case of the pink murders, even though he had little to do with the solving: Clem Broden actually went to Woolner and confessed.

### Connie is still living with her two jays in the cabin near Dunnborne. Connie told me that they sold the house because it had such awful memories. She always believed that Benjamin loved her dearly. It was difficult for her to learn that he actually haboured such ill feelings. However, Connie Fenton is such a curious person. She sucks up life in all its wonder, spits out the bad stuff and tastes only the good stuff.

### Connie's brothers, the two jays Jonah and Joshua, they had admitted to Connie that they had killed Father Pollicciano in order to protect their sister. They were never brought to trial or anything. Why? Because good ol' Clem Broden said he did it. In spite of his being a murderer and all, I got to like that Broden guy. So did Rita.

### When we learned that the pink killer was Benjamin Fenton, Rita jumped for joy.

### "See? I told you so!" She said. "I knew the minute I saw all them words circled in that bloody big bible. Them 'evil' words circled in red and stuff like that. Actually, it mighta bin pink. That guy's some kind of weirdo."

### Well, Rita was right on the button, as usual.

### Rita and I still live in her Aunt's house. Rita is my kind of gal. She says what she thinks, does what she wants and although she always shudders when I hold her close, I think she really loves it. In fact, I think she really loves me and I'm sure that, one day, we'll be man and wife. Who knows, it's a nice day today, the wind is warm even though it's almost October, the leaves are gold and red and I know we'll be sitting together on the porch after work. She still works for Buck Tormin who, by the way, is a nice guy. I still have my job at that law firm, Sawyer and Mask-something. Why do lawyers have such weird names?

### Anyway, as I was saying, it's a nice day today. I think I'll ask Rita to marry me.

