The Bighead (25 page)

But he wondered now, if God
approved of what he’d done.
Gee, why do I
have this funny feeling that he didn’t?

“
That’s amazing, Father,”
Charity said. “A priest, taking on local hoodlums.”

“
It was no big deal,” he
tried to sluff it off. “Just one of those things. I probably
should’ve tried to handle it better.”

“
Handle it better?” Jerrica
questioned. “It was you or them. The law of the jungle, you
know.”

Alexander poised a smiled,
nodded.
Yeah, honey, but I’m a priest. I
go by a different law…

A minute pause gave him the
opportunity to switch subjects.
Thank
God!
He glanced over to Charity and her
aunt. “So what did you two do today?”

“
Well, Father,” the
wonderful old woman began, “I felt it was high time to take Charity
to her mother’s grave. She was my sister—Sissy, I called her—as
fine a woman as you’d ever meet. I just feel kinda bad, fer takin’
so long.”

“
Oh, Aunt Annie, please,”
Charity heartfully objected. “There’s
nothing
to feel bad
about!”

Alexander interjected, with some
Scripture. “Time means nothing,” he said. “‘Who can number the sand
of the sea, and the drops of rain, and the days of eternity?’ ’That
which hath been is now, and that which is to be hath already
been.’“

A tear came to Annie’s eye at the
condolence.

Yeah,
Alexander considered, looking at her.
When she was young, I’ll bet she turned enough heads to cause
an epidemic of whiplash.
A fine woman, and
an attractive one, age regardless. Sometimes you could just tell,
without ever even knowing someone. Charity’s aunt was good
people.

“
Oh!” Jerrica exclaimed
once more, after another sip of wine. “You’ll love this, Charity!
Father and I were sitting in the bar—before those two punks put
upon us—and guess what Father saw?”

Charity peered quizzically. “I can’t
imagine—”

“
Right there, carved into
the wooden side of the both. Just like what we saw last night!
BIGHEAD WAS HERE, someone wrote.”

“
Oh, God!” Charity
dismissed.

“
Bighead?” Aunt Annie
asked.

“
Oh, yeah. Some guy at the
bar told us all about the local legend,” Jerrica was more than
happy to recall, with the help of the cool dark wine. “It’s
fascinating. I can’t wait to write about it in my article. A rural
legend, a
monster-child
born in the woods, a cannibal!”

“
You best write about more
important things,” Annie suggested. “Ain’t no call ta be insultin’
our community with such stuff.”

Jerrica seemed to shrivel. “Oh, I’m
sorry, Annie. I didn’t mean any harm. I just—”

“
Don’t worry about it, hon.
It’s just my opinion. You wanna write about our land, it’s my
reckonin’ that you won’t wanna add all that rubbish.”

“
Oh, I won’t, Annie, I
promise,” Jerrica pleaded.
Christ, she’s
drunk,
Alexander noted. The babbled on,
“Really, I meant no offense. I wasn’t thinking—”

“
I think,” Alexander butt
in, “that it’s been an interesting day, and it’s getting real
late.” By now, they were all getting on each other’s nerves anyway.
Best to close down now. He swigged the rest of his wine, stubbed
out his ’rette in the turtle shell, and suggested, “Why don’t we
all turn in and get some sleep?”

“
That’s a great idea,
Father,” Charity agreed. Annie and Jerrica, reluctantly, agreed
too.

“
I’ll see you all in the
morning,” the priest bid. “And as far as Bighead goes, I don’t
think we have to worry about him knocking on the door.”

The women laughed in unison. But
then—

Rap-rap-rap!

All heads turned in the parlor’s dim
lamplight.

Rap-rap-rap!

Someone was knocking on the
door.

««—»»

A sudden warm breeze gusted
into the house when Annie opened the front door.
Who the hell could be calling at this
hour?
Alexander wondered. A tourist looking
for a late room? Someone whose car broke down? The priest squinted,
Charity and Jerrica standing right behind him. Twilight, and
intermittent whiplashes of far-off lightning, turned the figure at
the doorstep into a strobic silhouette. A
tall
figure, big, brawny…

“
Can I…help you?” Annie
inquired, her eyes wide open. Her fingers curled about the door
edge.

But then Alexander noticed something
flash on the figure’s chest, and behind him, in the circular drive,
more lightning elucidated a shiny white car with a visibar, a
gunrack, a crest on the door.

A cop,
the priest realized.

“
Sorry to disturb yawl, I
know it’s a might late,” the man said. “I’m Sergeant Dorton
Mullins, Virginia State Police.” The voice seemed canted in a
typical drawl. Police came out as
poe-leece.

“
Is anything wrong,
Officer?” Charity spoke up, her own voice meekened not only by
curiosity but also by something close to apprehension.

“
Well…” Dorton Mullins
stalled, one hand on his hip. “Please know that it ain’t my
intention to scare yawl, but what I wanna know is if any of ya seen
any suspicious folks about, er I should say not folks but a man,
a
big
man, like
maybe peepin’ in windows, hangin’ about? A stranger walkin’ down
the road? Anything like that?”

They all replied in the negative,
pausing themselves now at the unsettling inquiry. The priest’s eyes
narrowed, while the women’s widened.

“
There’ve been a couple
murders, folks,” the cop finally had out with it. “There’s no cause
fer alarm, I just—”

“
Murders
are no cause for alarm?” Jerrica testily remarked.
“Well, ma’am, a’corse they are, but these murders’ve all been
committed quite south’a here. Spread out as this area is, and bein’
that Luntville don’t have a police department of its own, it’s
takin’ us a while to talk ta folks. Just a precaution is all, ta be
on the safe side. You know how folks can be ’round here, don’t feel
it necessary to lock their doors an’ windows an’ all. I’m just here
to advise ya ta do so.”

“
Just as a precaution,”
Jerrica mocked.

“
That’s right,
ma’am.”

Alexander asked, “Could you give us
any details relative to the murders, Sergeant?”

“
Well, Father, I really
cain’t do that,” Mullins replied, more heat lightning flashing at
his back, “‘cos it’s confidential. All I’m allowed ta say is that
over the past coupla weeks some women have been found dead a right
nastily. Just hill girls mostly, an’ mountain gals.”

Hill girls,
Alexander considered.
Mountain gals.
“Were the murders
sexually motivated?”

“
Uh, yeah they was, sir, er
I mean Father.” Mullins flinched as if chilled. “The crime scenes
was all really bad is what I was told.”

“
Any witnesses?”

“
Not until tonight, Father.
What happened tonight is the killer attacked a farmer in his home,
murdered the poor guy right there while his kids watched. Thank the
Lord he didn’t turn on the kids, too. And them poor kids, they was
understandably hysterical, not much useful they could give us fer a
description, ’cept that the killer was big.”

Alexander felt obliged to ask the next
pique of his curiosity. “Was there also evidence of sexual assault
with this latest victim, the man?”

Mullins grimly nodded. “An’ I’m afraid
that’s about alls I’m authorized ta say regardin’ the details,
Father.”

“
But where did this
happen?” Charity asked. “You can tell us that, can’t
you?”

“
The one tonight? Cain’t
tell ya the victim’s name, but he’n his kids lived in an old
farmhouse just outside’a Crick City.”

Aunt Annie, at once, seemed relieved,
a hand to her bosom. “That’s close to fifty miles away.”

“
Yes ma’am, so you can see,
like I said, there’s no real cause fer alarm. Just want’cha ta be
careful fer the time bein’, until we catch this guy. You know, like
I was saying, lock yer doors an’ windows, an’ keep an eye
out.”

“
We will, Sergeant,”
Alexander offered, “and thanks for coming out.”

“
But wait a minute,”
Charity’s next question leapt ahead. “What about the other murders,
the women? Where did they occur? Where they further
away?”

“
Yes, ma’am, they was, all
in the next county to be exact.” But then the trooper faltered
again, shifted uncomfortably. “And that’s actually the main reason
we’re notifyin’ folks in the Luntville area.”

Alexander peered quizzically. It
didn’t make much sense; it seemed, even, like a poor judgment call
on the part of the state police commander, or some grievous
over-reaction. “I don’t get it,” the priest challenged. “If these
murders happened that far away, why notify Luntville
residents?”

Another shift, another pause. The cop
was a grim silhouette before them. “The first coupla murder victims
were found just north’a the Boone National Forest and Game
Preserve. Then we found another one near Stearns. Two more between
Bristol an’ Lockwood, an’ two more after that between Lockwood an’
Rocky Top.”

Annie gasped. “And the one today, the
farmer. Just outside’a Crick City, ain’t that what you said,
Officer?”

“
That’s right, ma’am,” the
trooper replied in his darkest tone yet.

“
My God,” Charity
said.

But Alexander looked around, examining
the sudden severity of their faces. “I don’t get it. What’s the big
deal?”

Lightning crackled in silence; the
warm air stirred. “See, Father,” the trooper began, “based on where
we’ve found the bodies of the victims, the killer seems ta be
movin’…in a straight line—”

“
Straight for Luntville,”
Charity whispered. And—

“
Annie!” Jerrica
squealed.

Confusion diced the
moment.
What the hell?
Alexander thought, but then he heard
thunk!
and he blinked and darted
forward. The state cop rushed to assist.

Aunt Annie had fainted instantly, and
collapsed to the floor.

—
| — | —

TWELVE

(I)

Alexander and the cop carried Annie
into the parlor, and lay her out on the old crushed-velvet scroll
couch. Charity and Jerrica briskly fanned her face, with straw fans
from the highboy. Alexander elevated her feet. “I better radio fer
an ambulance,” Sergeant Mullins said.

“
Wait, I—” Alexander leaned
over, peering down and holding the elder woman’s hand. It felt
cool, fragile. “She’s coming too.”

In time, Annie’s eyes opened fully.
She looked wilted lying there, and stark when she realized what had
happened. “My…gracious,” she whispered. She squeezed the priest’s
hand. “I…just got so light-headed for a moment.”

“
You fainted, Aunt Annie,”
Charity said, she and Jerrica still waving the fans.

“
Are you all right?”
Jerrica asked. “The officer can call an ambulance.”

“
Goodness no.” Her eyes
fluttered, then she seemed to pinken with embarrassment. She sat up
then, validating her recovery. “I’m fine, really. I’m so sorry to
be such a burden.”

“
It’s no trouble, ma’am,”
Mullins offered. “You’re sure you’re all right?”

“
Oh, yes, of course. Thank
you, thank you all. I feel much better.”

“
Let’s get you to bed,”
Jerrica suggested, whereupon she and Charity aided the woman to her
feet. “You’ve had a busy day.”

“
Too
busy,” Charity added. “All that walking today in the hot sun,
and this beastly humidity.” They both gently guided Annie toward
out of the parlor and down the hall for her room.

Alexander walked outside with the
cop.

“
I really am sorry to cause
all this ruckus, Father,” Mullins apologized.” The heat lightning
continued to whiplash when they got out to the car. “Guess there
ain’t no subtle way to tell folks that a killer might be headin’
fer their town.”

“
Hey, you’re just doing
your job,” the priest said, and lit a cigarette. “We appreciate you
taking the time to come out. Annie’ll be all right. I guess it was
just a combination of the news of the murders and all this heat.”
Alexander paused to reflect, dragging his Lucky. “But it seems
strange, doesn’t it—these murders, I mean? A laid-back, remote area
like this, I’d think that there’d be almost no crime at
all.”

“‘
Round here, shore,”
Mullins agreed. “Originally, I was thinkin’ that maybe the murders
are spillover, but they ain’t ’cos the m.o.’s so different, and
they’re coming from the wrong direction.”