The Thing in the Dark to Fear

Chapter 5

Reverend James lived in a simple house next to the church. Kristen knew the way by heart. Not only had her family visited often, her first year out of High School she had dated the Reverend’s son, Kenny. She and Kenny had coupled in the good Reverends bed. Kenny’s goal was to have sex in every room in the house. She was smiling at the memory when she pulled into the driveway.
Still amused at their mischief, she checked her watch. Six, forty-five, just early enough to be considerate, and apparently the first person to arrive. That would at least give her the psychological advantage of holding familiar ground. Though it was still light out, Kristen had missed seeing four cars in the church parking lot. From the look of the house, not much had changed.
Ida James met Kristen at the door. They embraced, “It’s so good to see you again, dear.” Ida had always been fond of Kristen. Though twenty-five years Kristen’s senior, Ida was an amazing beauty.
“Thank you, Ida, you always make me feel loved.” Reluctant to release the comfort of the embrace, she asked, “how do you stay so beautiful? You haven’t changed a bit.” She reluctantly released the loving hold.
“Lot’s of young lovers, dear.” Ida quickly retorted, and then added a conspiratorial wink. Casting a mock glance over her shoulder, “Don’t tell Dick, he’ll get suspicious and fire the pool boy.”
They both giggled as Ida led Kristen into the Kitchen. The James’ home was simple but always clean. They had plenty of room and the place never looked crowded. Most of the wood furniture was very well polished. The kitchen was also very roomy.
“Would you like a beer or glass of wine, dear?” Ida put on an apron waiting for Kristen’s reply. Kristen half smiled to herself, Ida had never offered Kristen Spirits before, and she could not recall ever seeing Ida imbibe, even at dinner. One of the perks to being a fellow “Grown-up”, she surmised.
“Wine, please,” Kristen thought a beer would give the wrong impression. Ida pulled a bottle from the refrigerator, along with a cold-cut platter, and a platter of sliced cheese.
“So, you have to tell me, how was the Army, dear?” Ida opened a cupboard and pulled out two boxes of crackers and another platter. She pulled out a rolling cart and started to load it up.
“Well,” Kristen started as she watched Ida work, “ I was in the Medical Corps, so I didn’t get full exposure to the “Real Army,” or so I’m told. But generally when it didn’t conspire to be horrible, it was an eye opening experience. I have some fond memories, and they paid my college loans.” Satisfied that she had not been too negative, Kristen jumped to change the subject. “How is Kenny?”
Ida had finished loading the cart and started to push, “Come along, dear. Kenny is doing fine. He’s Black Bear hunting in Canada this week.”
“Always the adventurer.” Kristen said, more to herself than to Ida.
“The past few years he’s been using a bow. I’d feel so much better if he used a perch like some Hunters put in a tree. You know, give him some advantage other than the element of surprise. Men! They are so macho, unless it’s child care.” Ida opened the door to the garage.
The garage wasn’t the garage, any more, Kristen noticed with some relief. It was a nice game room and library. It smelled pleasantly of cigars and whisky. Once inside, Kristen noticed four men, three of whom she recognized immediately.
“Ah, Kristen,” Reverend James stood and gave her a hug. “Please come in, dear.” Taking her by the elbow, he guided her to where the gentlemen had been seated until the ladies entered the room. “You know Mr. Robertson.”
“So good to see you again, dear.” Mr. Robertson, the undertaker, looked genuinely pleased to see her, and shook her hand.
“This, of course, is Sam Cramer.” Dick smiled as he introduced the police chief.
“You look great, Kristen.” The police Chief warmly embraced Kristen.
Kristen marveled at how she missed small town life. LeAnne Cramer, the chief’s daughter, and Kristen were the best of friends growing up.
“And this,” Dick said with a slightly more formal posture, “is our dear friend Jimmy Jackson.”
“How do you do?” Jimmy greeted Kristen with an extended hand.
“Fine, thank you, I’m pleased to meet you.” Kristen shook the proffered hand. Their eyes met briefly. He was younger than the other gentlemen were, his hands were strong and rough, his eyes light brown, and his posture erect. Kristen liked him already. Holding his hand after he relaxed his firm but gentle grip, she asked, “have we met before, Mr. Jackson?”
Her understated beauty instantly struck Jimmy. “I can say with great confidence, I would have remembered meeting you, Ms. Sandler.”
Kristen cocked her head trying to remember from where she might have known this man. It was not so much his appearance that was familiar, but a feeling she had. Dick James interrupted her thoughts.
“If you’ll excuse me, I need to help my boss. Please have a seat and I’ll be right back with some snacks.” Dick James hurried off to help his wife, Ida, set out refreshments.

Kristen sipped her wine and tried to hide her shock at the plan unfolding before her. Jennifer had been murdered in Virginia Beach. The Chief believed a sexual predator had recently killed and mutilated four young women, in the greater metropolitan area of Hampton Roads, of which the cities of Norfolk and Virginia Beach shared beaches.
On Friday evening, two days away, there would be an exclusive premier of Romanian Art at the Chrysler Metropolitan Museum, in Norfolk. As a cultural exchange, the Romanian Government agreed to send the exhibit with a compliment of Romanian artists. An artist would be showing his work in a section of the Museum. The itinerary debuted a different artist in every city on the tour. The killer could be there, since the murders had come to pass since the gallery started setting up for this show. Jimmy would escort Kristen, and have the freedom to look around. They had reservations at local hotels and would meet tomorrow night for dinner; they all had a four to five hour drive ahead of them in the morning.
The police were bound by law to proceed on the trail of evidence, of which they had little. Not to mention the jurisdictional boundaries Chief Cramer simply could not violate. However, he had connections and the Chief had secured invitations to the event. Jimmy Jackson was a private investigator and as such, not bound by the constitutional measures protecting the public from the police. Any evidence Jimmy found could be turned over to the police to become part of their evidence trail. Of course, her role was more complex than that of a simple guest.
The four victims had been wearing semi-formal attire, and they each wore a necklace with Turquoise stone. Each woman was young, healthy, and beautiful. Ida had a dress and turquoise necklace to lend Kristen. All present had agreed that Kristen might be able to flush out someone close to the killer if not the killer himself. Jimmy and the Chief would take it from there.

Some plan, Kristen thought. She quietly looked at the men about her, as she listened. They were not comfortable, and she knew it. Then it dawned on her that she was pivotal to the plan, and these accomplished men must hate asking a woman for help of this magnitude.
Kristen had her doubts. For starters, all the victims were very young and beautiful. Already down about spending spring break in her hometown, she felt her parents must have something to do with her involvement at this meeting.
Kristen felt light-headed and asked for cold water. She was sure it was not just the wine making her feel warm and dizzy. Assuming she had been invited over for consoling and comfort over the loss of her sister, her frame of mind had been that of a victim. But instead of comfort, she discovered Ida had a less than righteous sense of humor, and the town’s Mortician, Reverend, and Police Chief had invited her to actively participate in a conspiracy to violate the civil rights of someone who probably enjoyed diplomatic immunity.
Maybe, she thought, it was some kind of sick joke that she would be part of some small town mass fantasy to pull off a James Bond type mission, and she was asked to be bait.
One thing she learned in the Army was that only the politically well informed could expect to get the jump on the competition. Pillars of the community had confided in her, invited her to join their conspiracy, and sheer political savvy compelled her to graciously accept the invitation.
Okay, she thought somewhat whimsically, I’ll play your silly game.
The culminating intensity of conspiracy, cigar smoke, pictures of the victims, and three glasses of wine on an empty stomach schemed traitorously against her composure. Feeling faint and somewhat nauseous, Kristen sat forward in her chair, a move that dislodged her last hold on her equal librium. She felt the ceiling fan chill the fine sheen of perspiration on her neck and arms.
She was just able to blurt out, “sounds good to me.” Then a column of projectile vomit, burst from behind the light belch she was hoping to let discretely escape. She noticed before she passed out, that the spray had hit all the gentlemen present.
Serves them right, she thought.