The Cries of the Butterfly - A LOVE STORY (48 page)

“Nothing, sir. Utterly nothing. I swear on Robin,” Wolf answered. There was a cheer to him now.
My baby is safe…
wherever she was.

“Good.”

When they had finished talking legal points, Wolf said, “A nice gumshoe you dished me, Keith. Wow! She neatly wormed her way into my confidence and then when I thought I could count on her, she ditched me.” He told him what had happened with Maddy.

“I didn’t tell you to marry her, did I, Wolf?”

“So now she has her story…straight from the womb. Wow, what a sucker punch! But I guess I asked for it and deserve it.”

“I guess. Is there anything else?”

“Yes, one thing. Contact Stanley Knott and tell him I said the hunt is off. He’ll understand.”

.

T
he next morning’s The New Halcyon Tribune shocked Wolf.

The front page banner, typically credited to Maddy Witcher, was regular enough.

.

The New Halcyon Tribune Exclusive:

Little Robin Disappears From Children’s Home

Wolf Butcher Held On Suspicion

What, however, stunned him was the text:

Wolf Butcher received a phone call at around 2am Wednesday on his cellular, informing him that Robin, the girl he was to legally adopt, was missing. The caller was Sister Clara, the woman who looks after Robin and the other girls on Floor 3 of the Girls’ Hostel at the St. Teresa Children’s Home. So why did this woman call Wolf Butcher, a persona non grata at the Home ever since he failed to meet President Butcher and Judge Ian Cass’s deadline to quit seeing Savannah Burns (who everyone is well acquainted with by now) for good? What does this phone call tell us? Authentic sources tell this reporter that Butcher was surreptitiously calling on Robin practically every night. And this was done not just with the clandestine consent of Sister Clara, but with her active support…

It went on to detail when exactly Wolf visited and left the Home, how he managed it (“By leaping walls on the east side…”), how Sister Clara stood guard at the terrace doorway, how she sent away the night sentry of the Girls’ Hostel (“By paying him ten dollars to go sleep at the back of the building and not show himself until she asked him to...”)…

And why was Sister Clara so obliging to Butcher and little Robin? Was it out of the goodness of her heart? Was it her kind Christian spirit spilling over? Was it because she couldn’t bear to see this father and daughter separated so cruelly by the hypocritical whims of society? The answer, alas, is no. The answer, alas, is so ugly, reader discretion is advised.

The report then went on to relate in great and graphic detail the night of the assault.

And this is the woman, only 28 years of age, who has been looking after the tender girls of the St. Teresa Children’s Home for the last six years. What does it say about this Home, patronized by none other than the Butcher family, headed by none other than President Grant Butcher? How many more hideous skeletons are there hidden in the cabinets of this illustrious place? In the holy name of Christ, how much perversion goes on in this institution? Are the children safe at all? What are they subjected to day-in and day-out? What indeed have they been subjected to in all these years? A thorough investigation needs to be undertaken. But then, can that be done without the sly interference of potent people like President Butcher, Judge Cass and others?

Where is Robin? The powerful and influential have conveniently pinned it on Wolf Butcher. But all through his incarceration today, the police have not been able to make any headway. They have raided countless locations, every suspected place where little Robin could have been hidden by Wolf. Butcher Garden itself was searched. Not that there are many places for Butcher to hide the girl, given society’s rabid hostility toward the moviestar.

We have been in the forefront of the anti-Wolf Butcher campaign (as some see it). Rightly so too. We stood by what we believed in then. But things have changed over the past few days. New truths have come to light. And new perceptions. The unshakeable loyalty with which this man has stood by this woman, Savannah Burns, is a revelation. It ought to warm the cockles of the most pitiless heart. In a world of frivolity, it is a true lesson in unflinching devotion. And what can you say of a man who without the slightest whimper allows the complete violation of his flesh, nay his very soul, just so that the little lady he considers his daughter can be safe?

The true villains of this tragic episode are to be found elsewhere than in Wolf Butcher or Savannah Burns.

“Mr. Butcher, please follow me,” a police guard said, opening the door of the cell.

Wolf blinked and got to his feet. He followed the guard, The Tribune clasped in his left hand.

The station-officer-in-charge was waiting at his desk in his office.

Also waiting were Savannah, Rochelle, Stan Knott, Keith McKenzie and Maddy Witcher.

“The charges against you have been dropped, for now, Mr. Butcher,” the officer said formally.

“Did they find Robin?” Wolf asked Maddy.

“Not yet,” the officer said instead. “But we…”

“We’re trying, Wolf. I’ve pressed every private investigator this city has into service. The Press reporters are working overtime too…as are the police,” Maddy cut in.

They’ve
got her!
Wolf almost yelled out.
I wonder when they’ll bring her out.
Sooner than later they would have to.
They can’t keep her hidden all her life, can they? And once she’s out? How the fuck are they going to explain it? Robin is sure to give the game away. They failed to break me…they failed so miserably in their fucking plans. And now they’ll fucking pay.
Wolf felt a shaft of triumph shoot through him. Somehow he restrained himself from whooping out. Somehow he kept his face gloomy and worried and tired. Well, he
was
tired, if not the first two.

Savannah came over and put her arm around his waist.

He gave her a sad smile. She hugged him lightly, mindful of his injuries.

.

“
W
hat happens now?” Savannah asked. They were all at Dias Apartments and while Stan Knott manned the door, the others were congregated in the little bedroom.

“Well, Sister Clara has been fired. There’ll be an enquiry into the affairs of the Home. I’m sorry, but President Butcher…” Maddy said.

“You should’ve left him out of it,” Wolf cut in brusquely.

Maddy glared at him. “You’re truly a piece of work, you know! Your Dad is the cause of all your woes and yet you simply refuse to see it. Anyway, it’s too late.”

“Too late?”

A sly twinkle came to Maddy’s eyes.

“Hey, tell me! What do you mean?” Wolf demanded.

She exhaled. “We’re mining into President Butcher’s affairs. Digging real deep this time.”

He leaned forward. “Didn’t I fucking tell you to lay off?!”

“It’s nothing to do with you, Holly-boy!” she shot back. “It’s my newspaper’s story. It’s about time someone shattered the halo around that man. We’ve tolerated him too long.”

Wolf looked at Rochelle, as if for help, who looked back blankly at him.

“And if it so happens that by fixing your Dad we compel him to force Cass to back down too, well than all your problems are solved and that’ll be the cherry atop the divine cake,” Maddy said.

“I don’t want to solve my problems that way!”

“Even after the way he turned his back on you yesterday? What was it—the hundredth time? Come on, grow up, Wolf, recognize your enemies. So what if they’re your own blood. This is a cruel, selfish planet, hero. Don’t be a prick—see the world for what it really is.”

Even you had turned your back on me, Mad Witch,
Wolf thought. But then it had all turned out very differently.
Things aren’t always what they seem.

It didn’t occur to him then that perhaps he should apply the same thought in Grant’s case too.

Maddy’s cellphone sounded then. She answered it and listened. When she was done, she looked up, a wide grin on her face.

“My, my! The way the nation’s doing a rotate. There are processions and demonstrations in support of
you
now,” she said to Wolf.

***

Robin
didn’t know what to think. She was confused and unhappy.

She had waited with Sister Clara in the office that Monday evening of April 28th. Eleven pm, then eleven-thirty. Why wasn’t Daddy here yet? Finally she asked Sister Clara if she could call him up.

“I’ll do it for you,” Sister Clara said. Robin watched her punch numbers on the fixed-line and listen. “It’s been turned off. Mr. Butcher’s cell-phone is off.”

So they waited again. Midnight. Again Robin asked if she could call Daddy.

Again Sister Clara said yes. But she wouldn’t allow Robin to dial.

“It’s better I do it. Just in case someone comes…” Sister Clara said cryptically.

Robin didn’t understand who would come at this time of the night, but she didn’t want to offend the Sister.

At one am they gave up.

“I’m really sorry, Robin. But it seems Mr. Butcher does not care for you all that much anymore. Or else he would’ve surely come. In the least, he would’ve called up.”

“Perhaps he fell sick,” Robin suggested. She didn’t like Sister Clara saying such things about Daddy.

“Still, he could’ve called.”

.

B
ack in her dorm, Robin shut the door and tip-toed to her bed. Stripey flew off her shoulder and landed on the windowsill. He looked out the window and sniffed the air. Crisp and fresh. A short but sharp scream made him turn abruptly. His mistress had jumped back from their bed and was staring at the mattress in great alarm. Stripey leapt down the window and ran over to her. He climbed up her leg and was quickly atop her shoulder once again. The stink now hit him clearly. He wrinkled his nose and stood on two legs and stared. Something was wrong with the bed. There was a horrible mess in the middle of it. But then it had happened so many times in the past, it wasn’t a novelty anymore. Yet, this time around there seemed to be something different to it. Something far worse. He peered closer, and still closer. Then he looked at his mistress again. Her left hand was over her mouth and her eyes had become twice their size.

“What’s it?” Moon-Moon said from the top bunk, propping herself on her elbow and squinting into the dark.

Robin shook her head wildly and made unintelligible sounds. Moon-Moon sat up now, then finally came down the bunk. She examined Robin’s bed and she too jumped back. She ran to the head of the room and frantically thumped the switches on. Immediately the room was bathed in bright light. It brought the other girls grumblingly back to life.

Robin had turned her face away and was sobbing hysterically. Moon-Moon stopped ten feet from the bed and gaped. The other girls gathered quickly and they gasped in collective terror.

Lying in the middle of Robin’s bed were the bodies of two puppy dogs, hardly fifteen days old. Their necks had been freshly slit and their blood soaked the mattress. Their mouths were wide open and their little tongues hung out like red ribbons. One girl screamed and turned away and fled the room. Then another screamed. Then it became a horror house, wild shrieks splitting the night.

.

“
W
hy do these strange things keep happening to you and you alone, I simply don’t understand!” Sister Blessing shouted. “They never happen to any of the other girls, only you. Are you sure you aren’t doing it yourself?”

“No, Sister, I promise!” Robin sobbed, taken aback by the accusation.

Sister Blessing shook her head in complete exasperation. “This is what…the tenth such incident? Sometimes someone puts a dead rat in your bed, sometimes someone pees on it, then someone vomits in it, sometimes your bed is drenched with water, sometimes someone swamps it with wet mud, sometimes your bed is simply shredded apart. It goes on and on and on. In the entire Home such things happen only to you. What’s it about you…why only you? WHY?”

“I don’t know, Sister.”

Sister Blessing’s gaze fell on the squirrel dancing unmindful on Robin’s shoulder.

“And enough! I want that pest out of here,” she said pointing to Stripey. “It is bringing all the bad luck to you and to the Home. By nightfall if that dreadful thing isn’t gone, then God help you! Get rid of it. Do you understand?”

Robin stopped crying and stared open-jawed at the head of St. Teresa Children’s Home.

“DO YOU UNDERSTAND?” Sister Blessing roared, getting up from her seat.

Somehow, Robin nodded.

“From tonight, you’ll sleep on the floor. No more beds and no more mattresses for you; you don’t deserve it. You are no better than a cheap little vagrant and you shall be treated as such until you mend your ways. Out of my sight now!”