LLOYD, PAUL R. (24 page)

“What’d you do to yourself, dork?”
Izzy jumped from the cab, ran around the front of the truck and dodged a trail
of broken house parts until he reached Tug. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

Tug shook his head. “Oh, crap,
crap, crap.”

“What is it?” Izzy placed a hand of
comfort on Tug’s shaking shoulder and checked for blood. Finding none, he gazed
down at Tug’s boots. Close by, he spotted a woman’s bare leg out the corner of
his eye. He investigated closer. “Holy Moly.”

Izzy lifted the door off the leg and
dropped it. “Oh my sweet, sweet Jesus.” He pulled his cell from his pocket and
pushed some numbers.

When the police dispatch picked up,
Izzy found he could barely control his plaintive, high-pitched, shaky voice.
“C-c-come quick. Found body. At that house.” Izzy stopped and listened before
responding. “No, not the hag’s house that blew up. The one next door. You know,
the rich guy’s house that somebody burned down.”

Izzy flipped
his phone closed. He dragged his foot across the debris by Tug’s butt and parked
up close against him. He put his left arm around Tug’s shoulders and leaned his
head in close.

***

Fritz jumped on Ahlman Brown and
scratched his face. Ahlman pulled the cat off and threw him against the wall
opposite. The cat fizzled and crumpled into a pile of dust which whirled about
in its own wind for a bit before scooting out of the room.

Ahlman rested back in the stuffed
chair in the living room of Denise Appleby’s new Naperville apartment. He placed
his right foot on the soft Queen Ann sofa next to Denise’s butt. He lifted his left
foot and dragged it over Denise’s lap on the way to parking it on top of his
right. He took a long sip from a large coffee cup and smiled.

“Don’t be a pig.” Denise pushed
Ahlman’s feet to the floor.

“Don’t you want me around anymore,
my darling?”

“I’m not your darling. I’m you’re boss.
Don’t forget.”

“Ah, humanity, you are such a
plaything of the gods.”

“Don’t get fresh with me, Ahlman.”

“Tell me, my dear, who controls the
gods? Who calls them to account? Who can make the storm god gather together the
clouds and lightning? Who can cause him to send the lightning and rain away? You
don’t imagine you can?”

“I can and I have. It’s blood the
gods crave and blood I deliver. And when I know the god’s name… heh-heh… god
indeed… demon it is for the likes of you… I gain the power I’ve purchased with
the blood of sacrifice. Do my bidding and keep your place.”

“As you wish, my dear. No need for
anger. Your power is plain enough. You’re the one who ousted the high priestess
from the coven.”

“But why am I aging more rapidly
than before? Is it because she’s still alive?”

“It’s not her, my dear. We must
stop the one sent. Sacrifice his blood, and you shall live forever.”

“I’ll shoot him on site.”

“No, my dear. Too easy. We require
a ritual. You know the master loves ritual.”

“I want Micah Probert’s head, now.
I’ll kill the bitch later.”

“Before we kill friend Probert, we
must locate him.”

“Get him for me, now. That’s a
command, Ahlman. Go. Fly with the wind. Flap your wings like the hurly-whirly.
Fly, Ahlman Brown. Bring him to me at your house.”

Ahlman’s smile vanished. He stood
with a quizzical expression as though compelled by a force beyond his control.
The color drained from his face as a sickly green came over him. He ran for the
door.

Fritz
scampered back into the room and hopped onto Denise’s lap with a gentle
“Meowr.”

***

“I’m not certain I’ll survive
this.” Micah grabbed Barbara’s hand and pulled it away from the doorknob.

At that moment, the door swung open.
A sixty-something couple barred the entrance.

“Mom, Dad, this is Micah.” Barbara tightened
her hand in Micah’s. She led him past the couple into the living room of a
small house. The Mathers home in the suburb of West Chicago, while dim in the
late afternoon light, struck Micah as belonging in an old movie set from the forties
except this house was in color.

“How do you do, Micah?” Mrs.
Mathers smiled and shook his hand. Micah appreciated her warm, strong grip.

“What’s that rock on your hand?”
Mr. Mathers’ light complexion turned as red as his fiery hair.

“Daddy!” Barbara patted the man on
the chest.

He thumbed her engagement ring. “It’s
like one of them cheap Cracker Jack rings. It’s huge. Are you guys going steady
or what?”

Barbara’s face reddened to match
the older man’s face. “Daddy! You’re supposed to wait until we announce. It’s
an engagement ring!”

The man glared in Micah’s
direction. “Nobody asked me if they could marry my one and only daughter.”

“Now, Phil, watch your blood
pressure.” Mrs. Mathers said.

“Cook the dinner, Madeline. I’ll
worry about the boyo here.”

Micah gritted his teeth and then
relaxed into a smile. “You’re right, sir. I should have asked you first. I’m
sorry. It happened so fast.”

Mr. Mathers looked him up and down.
“In here, you.”

Barbara hugged her dad from behind.
“Daddy, are you kidnapping my fiancé?”

“We’re going to talk man-to-man.
You help your mother in the kitchen.” Mr. Mathers pointed the way into the
study.

Micah shrugged. “It’s okay. Your
father and I need time to become acquainted.”

The study or den looked like it came
from the set of an old Andy Hardy film. Micah half expected to find old Judge
Hardy ready to give advice on marriage. This thought led Micah to wonder if Barbara
had told her father about his prison time or if he should mention it.
What
would Judge Hardy suggest?

Mr. Mathers closed the door to the
den. “Okay, you…”

“My name is Micah Probert, sir.”

Mr. Mathers poked a finger into
Micah’s chest. “I don’t care what your name is. What’s the idea of telling my
daughter that fake rock is a diamond? What kind of man are you anyway?”

“It’s real, sir. At least the jeweler
told us it was. Looks real to me. It’ll cut glass like a diamond. Do you think
it’s too big? I didn’t think. We rushed into it. Too flashy, isn’t it?”

“You may be able to fool Barbara,
but you’re not bamboozling me.” Mr. Mathers turned his back to Micah, placing a
hand on the top of a roll top desk. He turned around and looked Micah in the
eye. “That ring is about as real as your character.”

“I’m real, sir. I’m standing here.”

“Don’t be a wiseass with me. Why do
you want to marry Barbara in the first place?” The index finger of his right
hand poised ready to pick Micah’s nose.

“Uhmmm. I love her.”

“Like hell you do.” Mr. Mathers
pulled his finger back, leaving a fist within inches of Micah’s jaw. “You’re
after her money, aren’t you?”

“I don’t think she has a lot to go
after, sir. No offense to you, but she is not rich. At least not before I met
her.”

Mr. Mathers flopped into a wooden
desk chair that appeared to be a holdover, like the roll top desk, from an Andy
Hardy era movie. “What do you see in her, anyway? Are you one of those creeps who
take out a million dollar life insurance policy and then dumps their bride off
a cliff during the honeymoon?”

“I’m a guy in love with your
daughter, sir. And I’m lucky enough to have her love me.”

“That don’t make no sense.”

“It’s the truth, sir.”

“Tell you what I’ll do, punk. I have
money in my retirement account. I’ll give you ten thousand dollars if you leave
my daughter alone.” Mr. Mathers pulled a checkbook out of one the cubbyholes in
the roll top. He picked up a pen and opened the checkbook. “What do you say?
You can find some other naive girl to kill for the insurance money.”

“How come I get the feeling you
don’t like me?”

Mr. Mathers put the pen down and stood
up. He paced the room. “First, you’re too old for my daughter.” He stopped within
an inch of Micah’s nose. “How old are you anyway?”

“Thirty-eight.” Micah wondered
about his breath.

Mr. Mathers didn’t seem concerned
about bad breath as he didn’t budge. “She’s twenty-nine so like I said she’s
too young for you. Second, you don’t make enough money to support a wife.”

“Actually I do.”

“Yeah? What’d you make, if you
don’t mind my asking?”

“About ten ...”

Mr. Mathers voice rose to a shout. “Nobody
lives on ten thousand a year!” His right arm flew up to point towards the
entrance to the house through the living room. “Get out of my house, you bum.
My daughter ain’t supporting no slobs on what she makes dishing out four-dollar
coffee to idiots.

“Million sir. Ten million a year. I
don’t know how much I make from the stock. The ten mil is my salary and bonus
with the company.”

“You never stop lying do you?”

“Does your computer have Internet
access?”

“Yeah, so what?”

“Go to the Solaratac website and
click on the board of directors’ link.”

“Why?”

“Humor me. I’ll pull out my
driver’s license to prove who I am, okay?”

“What’s the web address?” Mr.
Mathers clicked on a keyboard on top of the roll top. “Here I got it from
Google. Okay, I’m on the home page. Where’s the link?”

“Down the left side, in the middle
of the column. See it?”

“Yeah, I got it. This lists a Micah
Probert as Chairman of the Board. Can’t be you.”

“There’s a photo if you click on my
name. And here’s my license.”

“Arizona, huh?”

“Yeah, I’m new in town.”

“Sure looks like you. The company
is in Phoenix. You mean the rock she’s wearing is real?”

“It’s what the jeweler claims. Paid
ten grand for it.”

“Cash, I bet.”

“Debit card.”

Mr. Mathers placed a hand on
Micah’s shoulder. “So you’re worth a fortune, then?”

“Yeah.”

Mr. Mathers slid his arm down to
grab Micah by the elbow. “Guess we should join the ladies for dinner, son.”

“Would you like to know anything
else about me? About my past?”

Mr. Mathers stopped. An expression
crossed his face like a person who realized his winning lottery ticket had
expired. “Is there something I should know?”

“I spent time in prison.”

Mr. Mathers lowered his head and
then raised it back up to look Micah in the eye. “You don’t get rich without
ripping off money, eh? So you got caught. It’s over with now, right?”

“It wasn’t about money, sir. I was
convicted of a crime I did not commit. You should hear about it from me rather
than someone else.”

“What crime?” Mr. Mathers held onto
Micah’s arm but didn’t move.

“Twenty years ago a teenage girl
accused me of raping her.”

“But you say you didn’t do it?”

“Correct. I don’t know why she
lied, but I swear to God I’m innocent.”

Mr. Mathers stepped forward, but
then stopped. He turned again to look Micah in the eye. “You do your time?”

“Fifteen years.”

“And it’s over now, right? No
parole or anything to worry about?”

“It’s over, except for proving my
innocence and restoring my name.”

“Your word is good enough for me,
son. Welcome to the family.” Mr. Mathers stuck out his right hand for Micah to shake.

The handshake was interrupted by
the voice of Barbara’s mom, “Frank, dinner’s on the table.”

Mr. Mathers smiled. “Coming,
Martha.”

Micah leaned his neck to one side
and stared at Mr. Mathers and then glanced at Mrs. Mathers with question marks
filling his eyes.

Micah leaned against the doorway of
Pastor Fromritz’s office. “So what’s the emergency?”

Pastor Fromritz came around his
desk to shake Micah’s hand. He gestured to a chair for Micah. “The person
waiting to speak with you has come through a difficult time. It’s left her in a
delicate condition. We must be careful of what we say so as not to disturb her
further.”

“You can trust me. I’m an easygoing
guy.”

Pastor Fromritz sat on the edge of
his desk. “I also want to warn you that what she has to say will be upsetting
to you, but I believe you need to hear it. In fact, you have a right to hear
it. The thing to remember is we must be gentle and kind with her.”

“I’m always gentle and kind, Pastor.
What is this about?”

“I promised I wouldn’t betray her
trust. She has asked me to set up this meeting. Believe me when I say this was
a difficult decision for her to make.”

“Pastor, who are we talking about?”

Pastor Fromritz stood up. “You’ll
see. Follow me, please.”

Micah trailed the reverend across
the hall and up a short flight of four steps to a closed door. When Micah
followed the pastor through the door, he was in the balcony of the church
sanctuary. A grand piano stretched across the right hand side of the floor at
the bottom of the balcony seats. The keyboard assembly for the church pipe organ
was nestled against the wall to the right of the piano.

The sanctuary had a high ceiling
painted white. Many clear glass windows lined the sidewalls to light up the
space even though the lights were turned off. Micah saw a short, blond-haired
woman sitting with her face turned away in the back row of the balcony off to
his left. On the wall behind her, Micah spotted the pipes for the organ. He
followed Pastor Fromritz to her.

Pastor Fromritz cleared his throat,
and the woman turned around.

Micah gasped. The tears streaming
down Janice Gordon’s face did not impress him, but her presence did.

Janice Gordon’s face melted into a
container for sobs. She placed her face in her hands.

“What do you want?” The anger roared
out of Micah’s heart.

Janice bawled and buried her head
in Pastor Fromritz’s chest.

Pastor Fromritz’s eyes narrowed and
his lips pressed tight. “Please, Micah, I warned you.”