The View From Chester Wilson's Camera by Marsha Eastwood, Bs.Ed, MSHSVC

The View From Chester Wilson’s Camera By Marsha Walker Eastwood Writing As J. Mactavish Feingold

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments,

events,

locales

entirely

coincidental. Copyright

2021

Lambkin

Walters

Lavender

Publishing All rights reserved This story, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without the express written consent of Deana Walters and/or Lambkin-Walters Publishing Company. The scanning, copying, uploading, and or distribution of this story via the Internet or any other means without the permission of the author or Lambkin-Walters Publishing Company is illegal and punishable by law. Printed in the United States of America

This story is dedicated to my husband who always holds my hands, dries my tears, and provides that shoulder for me to lean on.

Nothing in life is perfect. No matter how hard we try to fine tune and adjust, things just seem to have a way of unfolding on their own. We cannot edit life. The same can be said for this story which took on a life of its own and has not been professionally edited. It is my intention to bring you the reader into the theater, seated in the first few rows to watch as the story plays out before you. At times, I will take you on a nail-biting edge of your seat roller coaster ride of suspense and drama, with a little steamy sex thrown in for good measure. If you stick with me until the very surprising end, I promise you will not be disappointed! -JMF

iii

Things are not always as they seem; the first appearance deceives many. -Phaedrus

Chapter One

The hushed tones and somber mood belied the purpose of the gathering.

The

essence of the man lying in repose in the plain pine box would have protested loudly at the collection of hypocrites gathered in his name. He would have taken perverse pleasure in the fact that they thought so highly of him in death, when in life they treated him with less than casual indifference, especially after his wife died. Most of them hated his guts and made no secret about it. Almost to the person, everyone who knew Chester Wilson described him as a quirky, grizzled old coot who loved to take pictures.

His wife Jesse always said the

camera was the other woman, and that Chester’s affair with it would last until the 1

day he took his last breath. It was a rare day when you did not see him out and about with the Nikon hanging from his neck like an awkwardly added appendage. No one knew for certain how many cameras he had, but his nephew William Alexander estimated the number to be a hundred or so. Chester had a special display cabinet built to house his collection and it, along with many of his favorite photographs served as his personal gallery. Each picture was signed, dated, and framed. The living room walls were decorated with nature scenes of Arizona, Nevada, Utah, and New Mexico, as this is where Chester felt the true beauty of the country was on display. But there were the other photos, the ones no one knew about. Amidst an occasional sniffle, there was talk of what would become of the pictures and cameras. Smart money was on William 2

Alexander

too

was

avid

photographer. Chester had stipulated that the reading of the will be done on Christmas Day regardless of when he died. and as luck would have it, he met his maker on Christmas Eve’s eve. As Chester’s next of kin, it was William Alexander’s idea to have the wake, funeral, burial and the reading of the will all on Christmas Day.

That way any bequeath

would make a nice, unexpected gift, and there would not have to be a second gathering. It was safe to say that William Alexander (so named after Uncle Chester’s father and therefore required to use his first and middle names always), had inherited a bit of his Uncle Chester’s quirkiness. As the gravediggers tamped the last shovelful of earth into place, the crowd filed back into the house for the repast, during which Chester’s appointed executor read the 3

will. With few exceptions, everything was left to William Alexander. The will also stated that he, William Alexander was free to dispose of anything at his leisure except for one item. It was at that point a gift-wrapped box was handed to him from the executor. After carefully sliding his fingernail under the edge of the wrapping paper, William Alexander slowly and painstakingly unwrapped the gift. He pulled out a small pocketknife and pried the lid off a small wooden crate. There inside was his uncle’s most prized possession, the Nikon. It was the one Chester had taken on his last trip to an “undisclosed location”, and there was still a roll of film inside. Unimpressed, the group of mourners took their leave, offering their final perfunctory condolences. William Alexander traced the cool metal of the camera’s case, lightly fingering the 4

shutter button, and gently adjusting the lens. It was Aunt Jesse’s final gift to Chester and he never let the camera out of his sight. There was a note tucked in the side of the crate and William Alexander experienced a moment of discomfort as he read his uncle’s words.

Chapter Two Fate is a strange thing, and that realization came to William Alexander Wilson almost six months to the day of his uncle’s funeral.

Steeped in debt and virtually

homeless, he made the decision to leave the corporate world behind and take up residence in the log house left to him by his Uncle 5

Chester. His wife Miriam had jumped ship with the arrival of the first foreclosure notice and he was more or less on his own. The Nikon, maps and change for soft drinks were in the front passenger seat; the trunk was packed, and a small u-haul trailer was secured to the hitch. With any luck, he would reach the small town of Ash Fork before nightfall. He had been deeply troubled since Christmas. What did Chester mean in the note when he said, “The lens is a key, and each click of the shutter opens the door to a secret place. Each frame of film tells a story that answers a question”. The first thing he intended to do when he reached the house was to go through Chester’s albums one by one to try to decipher the message.

Chapter 3 The Arizona desert stretched out like an endless waterless beach with the prickly cacti serving

nothingness.

its

sentries,

guarding

the

Save for an occasional dead

snake, the only life in the area was William Alexander. The crackle of the car radio was an irritating

distraction,

nonetheless.

but

distraction,

It replaced the heated silence

with its occasional outbursts of music. During the drive, it crossed his mind several times how strange it was that Chester had died so close to Christmas. The man had never been sick a day in his life. The cause of 7

death was still pending but the medical examiner assured William Alexander that the matter would be resolved by the time he arrived. His thoughts were interrupted by the bonging chime and the flashing light on the dashboard indicating that the gas tank needed feeding, and soon. Through the wavy curtain of heat William Alexander saw a small travel plaza up ahead.

Dusty pick-up trucks dotted the

parking lot, their owners most likely inside tossing back cold brews and discussing among other things, the weather. The old gas pump squeaked to a halt as the last of the gas topped off the tank. He parked the car on the far side of the building, grabbed the Nikon and went inside to pay for the gas and grab a sandwich and a Coke.

No sooner had he

stepped inside the door then he heard THE VOICE. 8

“Well, I’ll be damned and doubled damned.

If ain’t Chester Wilson’s citified

nephew. What brings you back here- photo taking like your crazy uncle?” Uproarious laughter filled the small restaurant. None of the faces seemed familiar, not that he had paid particular attention to anyone at the funeral. The mourners had all been rather standoffish and it was difficult for William Alexander to discern who was a friend and who was, well… “I’m sorry. I am not very good with faces. Did you know my uncle?” Once again laughter filled the room. At this point William Alexander did not know whether it was his remark or just his presence that caused the behavior of the patrons, and he thought it best to just find a seat away from the others and wait for his order to be taken. The big man with the big mouth spoke again. 9

“Now don’t be anti-social boy. We will not bite. Your looney fruitcake uncle used to hang out in here all the time, clicking that damn

camera

and

everything in sight.

taking

pictures

Why once he took

pictures of one of the guys pissing in the john. Now what could be so damn interesting about a guy taking a leak? The guy ripped the film from the camera and flushed it right in front of your uncle. He was lucky the guy did not rip his nuts off. We don’t play that funny heshe shit around here.” Totally caught

off

guard,

William

Alexander considered the judiciousness of leaving the place, but the big guy sat between him and the only exit. The man he described was not the Uncle Chester he knew. Quirky – maybe, but gay, never. He and Aunt Jesse had a good life together and he assumed a satisfactory sex life; in fact, he was willing to 10

bet it was better than anything he and Miriam ever had. Mavis Thompson hated it when her husband

Jimmy

turned

ugly.

She

remembered the day Chester Wilson took those pictures. There had been such a ruckus in the men’s john. Ray Standhope had been taking a pee when suddenly all you could hear was screaming and the stall door rattling. Chester Wilson ran out of the restroom clutching the camera to his chest, got into his van and peeled rubber. That was about six months before he died. Ray was a bully and bragged about flushing Chester’s film “to teach the queer a lesson”. It was not long before everyone in Ash Fork knew the story, or some variation of it. Jesse Wilson started keeping to herself, and some people said she went crazy from the embarrassment and killed herself. Mavis had 11

known Jesse since they were children and if there was anyone who would never take their own life it was Jesse Wilson. In an effort to keep things from getting out of control Mavis Thompson walked over to the table and took William Alexander’s order.

She knew Jimmy was watching her

every move. “What can I get for you Mr. Wilson?” “William Alexander please, and how about a burger, some fries and a Coke?” “What would you like on the burger?” Before he could respond to the waitress, the big man spoke again. “What would you like on the burger sweet buns?” Jimmy Thompson mocked his wife and cast a threatening look in William Alexander’s direction. It was obvious he was looking to have some fun at Wilson’s expense. “Don’t you go fawning all over Mr. Camera Man, Mavis. 12

Fix the damn burger

and send him on his way. The sooner the better,” The

hamburger

reminded

William

Alexander of a giant slider- ten or twenty White Castle burger squares all schmushed into one big lump. The fries tasted as if they had been cooked in oil used to fry everything from fish to bacon with a little fried chicken thrown in. After one bite and the threat of vomiting, William Alexander took a couple of deep swallows of the Coke, threw a fivedollar bill on the table, and walked towards the door. Before he could reach the entrance, Jimmy Thompson spoke again, thus time in a more threatening tone of voice. “What’s the matter city boy? Food not to your liking?” Without responding William Alexander left the greasy spoon, and then decided at the last minute to snap a picture of the bully. 13

Clutching the camera by the straps he ran towards his car, turned the key, and sped off leaving a cloud of desert dust behind him. He could see Jimmy Thompson ranting in his rear-view mirror.

Chapter 4 Ash Fork, Arizona had been put to bed by the time William Alexander arrived at the log house. Using his watchman flashlight, he found the lock and opened the door. smell

dust

and

decay

The

immediately

assaulted his nostrils. As soon as he switched on the light, he discovered the reason. The remains of the funeral repast had been left in the house and allowed to rot. Apparently, the woman hired to take care of 14

things had taken the money and ran, and from the looks of things not before she ransacked the place.

Drawers were pulled

out, clothes yanked from the closet, and mattresses overturned. He had no idea why anyone would toss the place. Everything of value had been removed and secured before right after the funeral. Obviously spending the night in the house was out of the question, and he was too tired to look for a motel. As he returned to the car that feeling of discomfort returned. The incessant rapping on the car window awakened him with a start. There stood a woman, Native American, and older than anyone he had ever seen before. She was smoking a pipe and pointing to the door of the house.

Removing the camera from the

steering wheel, and extricating himself from the car, he stretched and walked into the 15

house. Everything was put away! The stench was gone as was the decaying food.

The

floors had been polished, the beds made, and the contents of the trailer all put in place. There was coffee brewing and the smell of fresh biscuits coming from the kitchen. William Alexander searched the house for the woman but there was no sign of her. Once again, the uneasy feeling he experienced at the funeral had returned.

Folklore

notwithstanding, this was all very unsettling. Perhaps the woman lived nearby and simply went home. But why would she do this? At her age how could she do this? It was not that he was unappreciative, but something nice happening coming so soon after the plaza incident was just, well just… Now that the cleaning and unpacking had been done for him, perhaps he could find the photo albums and clues to the message in 16

the note.

He laid the camera down and

immediately heard the whir of the motor as the roll of film began to rewind. He did not remember finishing the roll and it was the same roll of film that had been in the camera when he received it. The buzzer went off on the coffee maker at the same time the oven timer sounded. He removed the biscuits from the oven and grabbed the pot of jam from the sideboard. bitter.

The coffee was strong, almost

He could sense an undertone of

chicory. With coffee and biscuits in hand, William Alexander returned to the dining room and surveyed the wall. There were so many pictures.

For a brief moment, he

wished one of them would just talk to him; tell him where to look for the answers, and among other things where to find a nice, loving woman, and how to make a new life 17

for himself. This was all very new and when he left the city, he left totally alone with no prospects of anything. Now he was here in a town the size of some parking lots in Cleveland, and unsure what the sentiment was regarding his return. He wondered if his computer worked or the phone. As he moved from room to room, he began to feel that there was something eerie about

the

house.

All

the

modern

conveniences somehow seemed anachronistic. His Aunt Jesse still cooked in the hearth. The heavy cast iron Dutch oven still hung on the hook; and his Uncle, well if it did not have a lens, he had no use for it, as witnessed by the lack of a male influence in the house. What had happened to all the old stuff Aunt Jesse left behind? Gingerly he touched the on button of his computer and was relieved to see the familiar 18

desktop appear. He snatched up the receiver of the telephone and heard a normal dial tone. After he polished off breakfast William Alexander considered taking a shower and going into town to meet his new neighbors. Hopefully, they would be the opposite of the miscreant at the plaza. The warm water of the shower relaxed the knotted muscles in his back. The warm water was also having an effect on another part of him, a part he continued to ignore as much as possible. It had been a while and he briefly considered pleasing himself, but in the back of his mind he sort of half believed that business about going blind. So, he left well enough alone. Slipping into shorts and a tshirt, he locked the camera up in the wall safe and left to learn his way around Ash Fork. __________

Prior to leaving Cleveland, William Alexander had done his homework. Unlike the big city, Ash Fork came to life early, due in large part to the fact that there was nothing there. After the two great fires of ’77 and ’87, and the I-40 totally bypassing the town, the only thing Ash Fork had going for it was its proximity to Dante’s Descent and Cathedral Cavern. The main drag was Beale Rd., which had the distinction of being the first federally funded highway.

Most people had no idea

that it even existed, and why Chester Wilson chose to live here was the great family mystery. As he drove down Park Avenue, he noticed Jimmy Thompson’s truck in the parking lot of the Ranch House Café. He also thought he caught a glimpse of the old Indian woman, but just as before it was a fleeting image. People were out and about, but en 20

masse they ignored the outsider.

The trip

back to the house, all five or six minutes of it was totally uneventful-deathly silent and uneventful. It was like driving in a vacuum. As he reached the front yard once again the unpredictable car radio crackled to life and bits and pieces of Stand by Your Man strained through. That was a message Miriam Wilson obviously never got.

Chapter 5 Lacey Wildgoose had no idea why she let her great-grandmother talk her into going over to the log house, let alone clean it. She 21

had to fight the urge to upchuck the minute she walked in the door, but Chester Wilson had been incredibly good to the old woman, and she to him. The house was surrounded by a force that only her Nanya Wildgoose seemed to understand. She said the spirits talked through Chester’s pictures and that was how he was able to find Miss Jesse’s body lying in the gutter on Beale Rd. Of course, no one believed him and just chalked it up to a little luck and a husband’s angst over the disappearance of his wife. The fact that the sheriff had searched the area just the day before

and

found

nothing

further

strengthened Nanya’s argument. After that day Chester Wilson seemed to crawl into a deep place within himself, taking pictures from sunup to sundown every day of the week. Nanya said he was searching for something in the pictures, something that 22

would give him closure. Towards the end he became bitter, proclaiming the spirits had abandoned him. Some say his heart just gave out and others believed he had a little help departing this world. Between her Nanya Wildgoose and her Creole grandmam, Ma’am Suley who was also well versed in the spirit world, Lacey grew up believing almost anything was possible. Brown skinned and voluptuous, at first glance her Native American heritage was well hidden. It was only on closer inspection that the faint freckles and orange undertones in her complexion could be seen. Much like William Alexander, her move to Ash Fork had been a move of necessity rather than choice; the result of a relationship gone bad, and the loss of her job.

Lacey believed that at 103

years old Nanya needed someone to look after

her, a fact righteously disputed by the old Indian. Like most days in Ash Fork the day dawned sunny and hot. It was barely 9 am and the temperature was already 105 degrees. Dressing in no more than she could legally get away with, Lacey Wildgoose decided it was time to introduce William Alexander to his mystery maid.

__________ The air conditioning was on full blast,

but the log house was still warmer than William Alexander preferred.

Now was as

good a time as any to begin his search for the photo albums; he just wished he knew a good starting place. The closets held nothing but the things he brought from Cleveland.

knew there had to be a basement or storage shed someplace but if it meant going outside, it

would

have

temperatures prevailed. 24

wait

until

cooler

Maybe the roll of

film in the camera would tell him something. Before he could key in the combination to the safe, he heard knocking at the front door. As he took in the full length of his visitor, he momentarily forgot his manners. He did not think anyone like her even lived in this godforsaken ink spot on the map. Lacey stifled a giggle as she stood face to face with the new resident of the log house. He was handsome in a clownish sort of way, standing there with his mouth open, tousled hair that was darker than blonde but lighter than brown, and gorgeous brown eyes. He seemed as if he wanted to speak but could not, so she decided to speak first. “Hi there. I’m Lacey Wildgoose and you are William Alexander Wilson, right?” William Alexander’s entire being reacted to Lacey’s presence. While trying to control one part of himself, another part was suddenly struck dumb. He knew he looked 25

like a jackass just standing there, but his throat was dry, and his brain temporarily scrambled.

Desperately trying to collect

himself, he was finally able to utter a few words. “Yyyes, I am William Alexander.

there something I can do for you?” “How about inviting me in out of this heat?” As William stepped aside to allow the woman inside, he realized how lame he sounded. Was there something he could do for her?

He came off as some stodgy old

puritan deciding whether to buy Girl Scout cookies. Of course, he had never seen a scout that even closely resembled Ms Wildgoose. Lacey figured she better cut to the chase quickly before William Alexander suffered an attack of the vapors. “I am Lacey Wildgoose, and I am responsible for cleaning your house and 26

putting your things away. I hope you don’t mind but my Nanya, the old Indian woman you saw this morning, felt it was the right thing to do to welcome you to the house. She says the spirits live in your uncle’s pictures. They were good friends.” Suddenly Ash Fork didn’t seem all that bad; in fact, maybe it even had potential. Pulling out a chair, William Alexander invited the woman to be seated. As a new bachelor, he was somewhat lacking in social skills, and as an extremely horny man, he was playing things close to the vest. It had been many moons since he had been in the company of a woman, and never one in the form of Lacey Wildgoose. He had questions, a lot of them but he did not want to sound like an interrogator, nor did he want to appear too forward.

If he could quiet his masculine

urges for the moment maybe he could get the answers he was looking for. “I don’t know what to say about the cleaning and all, except thanks. I will admit your Nanya frightened me this morning, but I recovered nicely when I came inside and saw all the hard work on my behalf. How well did you know my aunt and uncle?” “I know that your uncle adored your aunt and that he also adored his cameras. He looked at life ass backwards if you can understand that. He thought people were bad until proven good and liars until proven truthful. He thought that all his pictures held a deeper meaning not readily apparent to the casual observer. Therefore, people found him to be a bit odd or quirky as it were.” “Do you know anything about any photo albums he had and where they might be? I have searched the inside of the house and cannot find a basement or anything. Is 28

there a storage shed or some other place he might have kept them?” Lacey burst out laughing. She doubted seriously if William Alexander had searched the house as he had no idea how some houses were built in Ash Fork. Now was as good a time as any to acquaint the city boy with the way things were done here. “Come with me.” William Alexander blindly followed Lacey to the den and watched as she pulled a plug of wood from a knot hole and watched a door open. Inside the room were numerous photo albums stacked from the floor halfway to the ceiling and all dated. The newest one sat atop the shortest stack. Leaning inside he retrieved it and watched as Lacey secured the entrance. It was obvious she knew a lot more about the house than he did.

It was also

obvious that the skimpy halter top she was 29

wearing did little to contain the soft mounds of flesh inside. “How did you know?” “I know because my Nanya told me about this house many, many times and I saw Chester

place

the

albums

there

for

safekeeping. The room is climate controlled to maintain the integrity of the photos.” Smart and beautiful, and in the absence of a ring perhaps available as well.

Once

again William Alexander struggled to contain the lust within his loins.

He watched her

mouth as she spoke. It was as if her tongue caressed the words as they left her lips. Before he reviewed the pictures in the album, he wanted to get the roll of film in the camera developed. “Lacey, can you tell me where the nearest drug store is? I have a roll of film that needs to be processed.”

This time the laughter came in guffaws as Lacey laughed so hard tears streamed down her face. Lacey had William Alexander at a distinct advantage, and he knew it. He had no idea what he said that was so funny, but he was about to find out. “Chester never had “processed”.

his

pictures

No one knows how

developed them.

There isn’t a drug store

within 20 miles of here. All we know is that he made the frames himself and that he had Mr. Smith, who owns the hardware store cut the glass.” Maybe his uncle sent the film out to be developed.

That would explain things to

some degree and certainly a better theory than Lacey’s insinuation.

For some reason,

the feeling of discomfort had returned. “Can you show me how to get to this drug store? I want to get this roll developed as quickly as possible.” 31

“Sure, no problem.” Excusing himself, William Alexander keyed in the combination to the wall safe and removed the camera.

In doing so several

pictures scattered on the floor and the roll of film was no longer in the camera. Reaching inside the safe again there was nothing there! Lying face up on the floor was the picture he had taken of Jimmy Thompson.

As he

stumbled backwards, he overturned a chair and the crash sent Lacey running to the room. Gripped by fear and confusion he initially resisted all attempts of assistance. He reached for the picture and watched as the others formed a line on the floor, presumably in the order in which they were taken. Lacey watched intently as the pictures grew sharper, and in the corner of each picture was a very small black and white thumbnail. She reached down to pick them 32

up only to be stopped by the firm grasp of William Alexander. For a moment, the silence in the room was disconcerting. “Leave them be! Move away and leave them be! Take a look as there is much to see. Blink three times and you will know what the pictures soon will show.” Lacey recognized the voice as that of Chester Wilson.

Heeding the voice, she

backed away. William Alexander appeared to be in a daze. Maybe Nanya was right; maybe the spirits were restless in the house. Extending her hand Lacey helped the man from the floor.

Stunned and disoriented

William Alexander plopped down in a nearby chair and stared at the photographs.

Now

they all appeared normal and the tiny thumbnails were gone. The roll had twelve exposures and he remembered taking number

eleven at the plaza café. Looking at Lacey he had to know. “What just happened here, Lacey? Where did these pictures come from?” “Judging from the subject matter they came from Chester’s camera.” Afraid to touch anything

William

Alexander asked Lacey to count the pictures. As she collected the prints, she noticed the last picture right away. “That’s odd…” “Wwhat’s odd?

Talk to me.

What’s

odd?” William Alexander felt the short hairs on his neck bristle as his heart began to race. Fear welled his throat as he began a slow and directed conversation with Lacey Wildgoose. “The roll in your Uncle’s camera was color print film, right?” Now he felt the trickle of perspiration make its way down his neck. Why was Lacey asking such inane questions? 34

“Yes, of course it was.

Aren’t the

pictures in color?” “Well, most of them are, except this one.”

He examined the photograph carefully.

Not only was it in black and white, but it had also come from an entirely different camera. The edges were scalloped like prints from an old Brownie camera. The timeframe had to be in the late 50’s or very early 60’s. was totally blank.

The print

Placing it on the table

Lacey tried to make light of the situation. Humming the theme from the Twilight Zone she spoke in an extremely low voice as she did her absolute best impersonation of Rod Serling, “William Alexander, there is another dimension that we know nothing about…” “Good imitation but not funny Lacey. I am sure both Mr. Serling and my Uncle Chester are turning over in their respective 35

graves for vastly different reasons.

What

does this all mean?” Lacey knew the one person who could answer that question but perhaps she and William Alexander needed to do a little research first. “At this point I wish I knew.

It is

getting on towards dinnertime. I know your kitchen is stocked so maybe I could whip us up something to eat and we can brainstorm over the meal.” This girl was too damn helpful and too damn hot. Watching her stand on her tiptoes with half her rear end exposed in the daisy dukes, once again he experienced competing emotions. On the one hand, he welcomed the help and on the other hand he wanted to lay the help and think with her curled up beside him. He would never suggest such a thing, but watching her stretch and bend was not leaving him much choice. 36

The way things

were going she was bound to notice the rising bulge in his shorts, and that would convey his thoughts without words. Lacey Wildgoose was as far from being a naïve innocent as North Dakota was from New Hampshire. She knew she was having an effect on William Alexander because of the blushing; that and the unmistakable erection in his shorts.

If that wasn’t enough, the

perspiration on his upper lip and his hard nipples pressed against the fabric of his Tshirt made the statement. As she rummaged in the fridge, she wondered how long it had been for him.

For her it had been exactly

eight months, two weeks, and six days. Guys like William Alexander needed sex and TLC – ravaged first, and then made love to. Maybe they could delay dinner for an hour or so. She chose her words carefully.

“You know I was thinking. I wonder if there is a secret room like the one in the den in the bedroom. It would not be unlike your Uncle Chester to have more than one secret place for his albums.” William Alexander wasn’t quite sure if that was an invitation or some sort of factfinding mission; but either way he was game. Leading the way to the bedroom with Lacey in tow he recalled the last time he and Miriam were in the same bedroom at the same time. It was a disaster with a capital “D”. Before he had any more time to dwell on the past a pair of very warm arms were wrapped around him, and a pair of equally warm lips were kissing his. He could feel a soft warm hand gently stroking him inside the shorts and he was like concrete. It didn’t take very long for William Alexander and Lacey Wildgoose to discover 38

their own secret room. Lacey was hot and willing.

She knew things – how to totally

please a man whether riding him hard or cuddling close. For his part, he followed her lead and reciprocated every step of the way. There was no doubt in his mind that he had totally satisfied her. As they lay holding each other close each could hear the wheels turning inside the head of the other. It was obvious to Lacey that something other than the two of them was alive and active in the house, and definitely trying to tell them something. Now that their hunger for each other had been sated, it was time to prepare dinner and map out some sort of strategy to unravel the mystery.

Chapter 6 Mavis Thompson braced for the worst of it. Her husband Jimmy had been on a tear ever since Chester Wilson’s nephew came to town, and if truth be told he had been that way since the day of the funeral. He hated Chester with a passion and the reading of the will just seemed to strike a nerve.

Mavis

never understood what event had resulted in the bad blood but whatever it was it turned Jimmy into a first-class bully. In the thirty-five years they had been married Jimmy had broken virtually every bone in Mavis’ body and it was under threat of death that she never reported it – that and the fact that the sheriff was Jimmy’s brother. Most people thought she was a clumsy closet 40

alcoholic because that was the story Jimmy spun. The district manager had been good about giving her time off for her bones to heal but always with a raised eyebrow as she related her last “accident”. The day William Alexander came into the plaza Jimmy was spoiling for a fight. Tired of his brutish lovemaking, Mavis mustered enough nerve to say no. It was the first time she had ever denied him sex and she paid dearly for it. Advance notice of William Alexander’s arrival spread like wildfire; of course, with a population of four hundred fifty-seven people living in just a smidgen over two miles, it did not take long.

Her

mother used to say you could stand at one end of town and be heard at the other end. No one, especially Jimmy Thompson, expected William Alexander to return to the small town, him being a big city boy and all. 41

That

was

the

reason

Jimmy

ransacked

Chester’s house, and whatever he was looking for was either no longer there or so well hidden he could not find it. The picture William Alexander took was only the second time Jimmy had been photographed.

The

first time was for his driver’s license. Mavis knew he was hiding something, but whatever it was it was not her business and she left it at that.

The bruise on her thigh was healing

slowly.

After William Alexander took the

picture, Jimmy hit her across the thigh with an empty Jack Daniels bottle.

A small bottle

wielded by a bear of a man can cause a nice size blunt injury.

__________

The tin can symphony had been going on for the better part of the morning as Jimmy Thompson loaded and emptied the .22 caliber rifle. 42

With a trailer full of cans, it would

continue for some time to come. Between the bitch he was married to and the bastard who just arrived in town, Jimmy’s anger had reached new heights. Each shot was meant for

some

part

William

Alexander’s

miserable existence. If he had been thinking straight that day in the café he would have waited until the wus went into the john to puke his guts out, and then ripped his nuts off and shoved them down his throat. He had no business here. This was Jimmy’s town; not Chester Wilson’s and not his nephew’s and come hell or high water he planned on correcting the situation ASAP. For now, the cans would have to suffice to vent his anger. Nanya Wildgoose smoked her pipe and watched in silence. She had no fear as she knew the wild man with the gun could not see her. She knew all that had happened. The spirits would exact their revenge and she 43

would have a front row seat. By now the big man who came to town and her great granddaughter had made love with the blessing of the spirits, and that would serve as the undoing for the evil one. No human force was strong enough to wage war with those that had watched over the tribes of Arizona who had lived there almost as long as the earth was old.

Chapter 7 William Alexander stared at the woman seated across the table from him and marveled at her domestic skills, things Miriam never acquired.

The meal she

prepared with like nothing he had eaten in quite awhile. 44

“This is delicious.

I suppose your

Nanya taught you how to cook too?” Lacey looked sideways at William Alexander and wondered if she had been the first black woman he bedded, and if this was the first time a black woman had prepared a meal for him. She had prepared beefy Creole rice and iced sassafras team and his plate was clean enough to put back in the cabinet. “How funny you are Mr. William Alexander. I did not live my entire life with my Nanya Wildgoose. As a matter of fact, I have only been in this pea-sized town for five months. How I came to live here is a long ugly story and not nearly as interesting as the blank black and white picture. I was raised by my Ma’am Suley in the back country - just outside of Nawlins’. Ma’am taught us waste not, want not and so I learned how to cook every part of an animal that was edible. Rice was a staple of the diet 45

there, and with that nice steak you had in the refrigerator and a few spices, voila, we had dinner.” As

she

spoke

William

Alexander

remained fascinated by her mouth, especially since he had personal knowledge of the pleasure it brought. He was also fascinated by the heave of her breasts as they strained against the skimpy piece of fabric holding them in place.

He was fascinated by the

warmth of her smooth chocolate thighs and the feel of her skin against his skin.

wanted her for dessert. He wanted to savor the sweetness once more before tackling the mystery of the house. He watched her mouth as she spoke. “I can read your mind you know.” “And Miss Lacey Wildgoose pray tell what am I thinking?” “I think I can show you better than I can tell you, but it will have to wait until the 46

dishes are done” “Perhaps if I help, they can get done a lot faster.” As he stood behind Lacey, William Alexander thought again of Miriam.

Some

men ended up with cold fish for wives, but his wife was a freezer fish, and he was convinced that no man alive could thaw her out. He tried for the better part of 25 years, until she finally left. He wrapped his arms around Lacey as he dried the dishes. There was an occasional slip as his hands lightly rubbed across her nipples. Whatever forces were at play, for the moment he was indebted to them. Lacey was blessed with the foresight bestowed

upon

her

two

cultures

thoroughly entrenched in the spiritual world. She read William Alexander’s every thought and she knew that her Nanya had a hand in what was transpiring between her and this 47

man.

They would soon return to his bed

where she would indulge him with all the womanly knowledge gained from those two cultures.

Later she would help him clarify

what was vague and the secret of the house. __________ William Alexander sighed deeply as he slowly

recovered

marathon.

from

the

lovemaking

He made a mental note to buy

vitamins when he went to that drug store. Lacey had endless energy and he was out of practice. How wild was that - a grown man out of practice making love. The fact that she was sleeping peacefully was testament to the fact that she felt comfortable with him. If she was anything like her Nanya there was not much she feared. He left the bed briefly to answer nature’s call and when he returned, he noticed a difference in the picture on the wall over the 48

bed. What was different he didn’t know- the subject matter or something about the color or lack of. That was it! The picture was black and white.

He recognized the car in the

picture. It was a huge ’53 Buick Roadmaster like the one he rode in as a child. The woman in the picture was of a very young Jesse, but the face of the boy standing with her was obscured. The picture was small in the frame and had the same scalloped edges as the one he had seen earlier. The date on the picture was September 12, 1959. If memory served him right the original picture was one of Chester and Jesse standing in front of a late model car, a Buick perhaps. He

wanted

wake Lacey up to verify what he saw but decided against it.

If she saw something

different, she would think he was nuts and beat a hasty retreat back to her Nanya’s. On the other hand, if she saw the same thing he 49

saw, then it would be proof positive that he was not nuts. For the time being he decided to just do nothing and try to get some sleep. The soreness was already beginning to set in and tomorrow would be soon enough to show Lacey his discovery. Wild dreams Alexander’s head.

danced

William

The picture on the wall

came to life and he could hear the people whispering to each other. In his sleep state, he could not understand what they were saying. He saw the man get behind the wheel of the car and drive off. Several times during the night he got up to see if the scene had changed back but it had not.

Finally, the

dreams stopped, and he fell into a deep peaceful sleep. Lacey pretended to be asleep as she watched the man beside her stand beside the bed several times watching the picture. After 50

he laid down for the last time Lacey looked at the picture and while it was taken before she was born, everything seemed vaguely familiar to her.

The change in the picture did not

upset her and she curled up beside William Alexander and slept. Tomorrow they would search for more albums and more pieces to the puzzle.

Chapter 8 Tom Morgan fumbled with the lock on the door to the plaza café. He liked Mavis a lot but, in his heart, he knew he was going to have to let her go. He had exhausted every 51

excuse imaginable to cover for her myriad of illnesses, but this time he was under a directive from higher ups to let her go. In the past she always called him to give him a head’s up, but today she was a no call, no show. Wherever she was he just hoped she was okay. That brute of a husband of hers was not fooling anyone if he thought no one knew about the abuse, but until she decided to do something about it there was nothing anyone else could do. It had been over ten years since Tom had

been

involved

the

day-to-day

operation of any of the restaurants and he was a little rusty. The coffee was no problem but trying to come up with a daily special would be a tad bit more difficult. It was funny how he never noticed how small Ash Fork was. You could look through a wax paper roll and see the whole town and then some. 52

His

culinary specialties were chili and pasta, all too heavy and hot for Arizona. Maybe Mavis had a menu somewhere or a schedule of what she prepared on certain days. Of course, he had no idea where to look. “I think they are in the back room where she keeps the supplies.

There should be a

chalkboard back there with the daily specials written on it. I think today the specials are the nacho platter and the fried chicken salad.” Without looking up Tom mumbled a “thanks”.

The chalkboard was in the

storeroom and just as the woman said the specials for the day were nachos and fried chicken salad.

He decided to show his

gratitude by providing her with a free meal but when he returned to the counter she was gone. He went to the door but there was no sign of her anywhere, no footprints and no tire marks. Scratching his head, he went back 53

inside to prepare the chicken. That was the damndest thing. It was like she just up and disappeared into thin air. Jimmy Thompson swallowed the last of the Jack Daniels and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He stood up, stretched, and belched loudly. He staggered briefly as be bent down to retrieve the empty bottles. The trash can in the kitchen was overflowing with empties and he heard some breakage as he tossed the last bottle in. The pizza from last night sat in the greasy box on the kitchen counter and he decided to snatch the final slices before the flies circling the box claimed them first. The hot peppers were just what he needed this morning as he had not slept for two days. He had a couple of runs to make and then he would clean up the rest of the mess when he returned. He might even buy her 54

some food since it had been a few days since she last ate. She didn’t deserve food. She didn’t deserve water. What she did deserve was another good ass-whipping to remind her how a wife is supposed to obey her husband. In the meantime, she would stay put. Grabbing the rifle, he left the house, securing all three deadbolt locks. Mavis Thompson knew her jaw was broken, at least two ribs and her right ankle. Breathing was done in short, shallow spurts and each inspiration was excruciating. The ropes were cutting into her wrists and her broken ankle was swollen over the rope used to bind her legs.

Dried blood covered her

nose and caked at the corners of her mouth. Her eyes were swollen shut and her voice was barely a whisper. She knew it was coming. Jimmy had been building up to it since that day in the 55

café. He got over the top angry because she asked the Wilson guy what he wanted on his burger. The drinking picked up and everyday it was a punch, a slap, or a kick. Last night had been the worst and at this point she knew it would be the last time he ever hit her. __________ The coffee was made, the chicken was down in the fryer and the lettuce and tomatoes had been chopped and bagged. Tom Morgan was sailing along better than he anticipated thanks to the disappearing old lady. So far, he had served eight guests and sold a few gallons of gas. His concern for Mavis became full-fledged worry the minute he saw Jimmy Thompson swagger into the café. Tom braced himself for whatever was to come as he greeted the surly man. “Mornin’ Jimmy. What can I get you?” “First you can get me respect. I ain’t your friend so it is Mr. Thompson to you. 56

What you can get me is that bottle of Jack Daniels under the counter and the sooner the better.” Why there was liquor in the café never crossed Tom Morgan’s mind. What did cross his mind was the fact that everyone seemed to kowtow to Jimmy Thompson. He found the bottle

whiskey

and

unceremoniously

plopped it down on the counter and waited… “Well Mr. Smartass, don’t I get a glass to go with this or is that considered a side order?” Reaching across the counter Jimmy grabbed the man by the throat, nearly crushing his windpipe. “Don’t fuck with me you little worm. Get the goddamn glass and get it NOW!” Coughing and shaking like a leaf Tom placed a glass on the counter and stepped back. He watched in amazement as Jimmy filled the water glass with the alcohol and 57

downed it as if it were a glass of lemonade. Anyone else would have either passed out or dropped dead, but Jimmy Thompson calmly replaced the cap and slid the bottle back to Tom.

“Have a good day, ya hear?” With that the man turned on his heel

and was gone. Tom sat down and rubbed his neck. He found a small hand mirror and there was

the

bright

red

imprint

Jimmy

Thompson’s hand wrapped around his throat. Tom had the sinking feeling that he was never going to see Mavis Thompson alive again. He silently cursed himself for not standing up to Jimmy, but the voice of reason reassured him that he was no match for the bully.

He put

the bottle of liquor back under the counter and waited for the next customer – one who hopefully would be less intimidating than Jimmy Thompson. The old Indian watched through the 58

window as Jimmy Thompson browbeat and threatened Tom Morgan. In all her long years among the living she had rarely encountered the devil incarnate but truly this man was the epitome of evil, and the spirit world had its own way of dealing with evil. Only the most foolish would anger them to this degree. Tom sensed a presence, but the café was empty.

Looking out the big plate glass

window he saw what he had seen before – nothing and no one. sounded,

and

Tom

The fryer alarm raised

the

basket

containing the chicken. As he watched the grease drain from the meat, he hoped the balance of the day would be uneventful.

Chapter 9 59

Lacey Wildgoose had no idea how long she had been awake and staring into space. Last night was the first time she slept soundly in over eight months, and she had William Alexander to thank for it. She remembered dreaming but not the substance of the dream. She turned to face the sleeping man beside her.

His snoring resonated throughout the

room. Lacey never understood how anyone could sleep with all that noise.

Backing

slowly out of the bed, she tiptoed to the bathroom. Something about the house was different this morning.

It felt angry.

She

wondered if the dream had anything to do with it and what exactly it was that the house was trying to tell them. The aroma of something delicious wafted

into

the

bedroom

and

William

Alexander’s stomach reacted accordingly. He sat on the side of the bed and tried to shake 60

off the cobwebs in his head.

The dreams

haunted him as did the photograph. He was hungry and horny. The latter would have to wait to be addressed. Judging from the sounds in the kitchen Lacey was busy flexing her culinary skills as breakfast was being prepared. He wanted to look at the picture but was afraid to do so.

What if it had

changed again? What if it had never changed at all and he only imagined it? What if it was trying to send him some sort of subliminal message? What if he just got his ass in gear and greeted the woman who made him feel like a man again. Lacey hummed an Indian chant as she prepared a southwestern omelet. The coffee was almost ready, and the table had been set. Now would be as good a time as any to awaken the best lover she had ever known. He had been so tentative last night but that 61

would all change soon. Ma’am Suley always told her, “What a man don’t know ‘bout lovin’ a woman, it be up to da woman to teach him. It up to her to make it good ‘cause dey don’t be readin’ no minds. William Alexander

stood

the

doorway and watched Lacey deftly put breakfast on the table. She was wearing one of his shirts and hopefully no underwear. She was

totally

oblivious

his

presence.

Everything about the last two days seemed surreal.

Hopefully today there would be

more answers than questions, but for now a warm good morning was in order. Tapping Lacey on the shoulder he turned her around and held her close. “Good morning Ms Lacey Wildgoose. I hope you rested well.” Lacey stood on her tiptoes and planted a hot kiss on William Alexander’s lips and hugged him tightly. 62

“Good morning to you Mr. William Alexander Wilson. Now that we got that out of the way, let’s eat before all my hard work gets cold.” The questions hung like a cloud over them and without speaking each knew what the other was thinking. first.

Lacey weighed in

“I saw you looking at the picture last

night and yes I saw the change as well, so you are not going bonkers. For some reason, the scene is familiar but not familiar if you know what I mean. It was taken before I was born. I recognize Miss Jesse in the picture, and I have seen the car, I just can’t remember where.” William Alexander chose his words carefully. On the one hand, he was thankful that she had seen the same thing he did, but the

whole

picture

changing

thing

was

unsettling. Unlike Lacey, William Alexander 63

only believed in what he could see, taste, hear and feel.

He did not believe in spiritual

mumbo jumbo, and for the most part was a totally irreligious person.

Obviously, this

position was being tested as he could find no logical explanation for what was occurring and why. Lacey was fortunate in the fact that she had grown up with the belief that there are forces at work we neither see nor understand. “I understand exactly what you mean. In addition to the changing scene in the picture, what troubled me most was the fact that I could hear the people whispering to each other, but I could not make out what they were saying.” Lacey knew what they were saying but she decided to withhold that information from William Alexander. This had to play out

as Chester intended, and to that end they would discover it together. “I have an idea. Why don’t you help me with the chores and then we can get back to finding the rest of albums and see what they tell us. Now which would you like to do, wash or dry?” William Alexander laughed as he drank the last of the coffee. It had been years since he washed dishes. Back home in his bachelor digs he ate takeout and used paper plates and plastic eating utensils, so perhaps now was the perfect time to become reacquainted with the chore. “I will wash, and you can dry and then we can make the bed together and get dressed.” Inside

Lacey

was

dying

laughing.

Either William Alexander was truly naïve or had been out of the loop too long. She had

plans for him between the making the bed thing and the getting dressed thing. Bed making represented

another

challenge for William Alexander. Everyone knew that bachelors rarely make the bed except when the linens are changed, but he felt certain Lacey would teach him how to make up a bed in record time. The picture had not changed from its black and white status and judging from Jesse’s age he was not so sure it was Chester who took the shot. Before he could delve further into the why’s of it all he was smacked in the face with a pillow. It had been years since he enjoyed a good pillow fight, and although it took a lot longer to do the bed, the fun was well worth it. was

With chores completed, a quick shower next

and

then

back

unsolved

mysteries. Warm, not hot showers were the 66

rule in Arizona and force of habit made William test the water before stepping in the tub. Facing the wall, he stood under the water rinsing the shampoo from his hair. At that moment he felt warm hands caressing his rear end and then a busy tongue sliding up and down his back. Lacey poured a blob of body wash into her hand and began slowly lathering him, paying special attention to the area just below his waist. It was amazing how much he grew in her hand –from a soft little mass to a rockhard erection that demanded attention. When he could take no more William Alexander turned around to face his seducer. He turned her back to him and repaid the favor with a little extra. She felt so good wrapped in his arms. The point of no return came quicker than he would have liked, but the release was a welcome one. She was a devious one, that 67

Lacey Wildgoose. Finally, dressed, and ready to address the issue, Lacey ran her hands against the walls in the bedroom but did not find any secret room. There was a small pantry off the kitchen that was also paneled. Just as she was about to give up, she found the familiar knot hole. The room was larger than the other one and the albums were all very old. The dates went back to 1957.

The bindings were

cracking, and most of the photos were faded to a pale sepia tone making it almost impossible to make out who or what was in them.

Disappointment was evident on William

Alexander’s face, but as a photographer he knew that was par for the course. Most of the old albums had the black pages that allowed for the pictures to be glued on or affixed using those little corners. Both the dye in the pages 68

and the glue had high concentrations of acid which ate through the back of the pictures. The front of the pictures came into contact with the back of the page before it, and the picture slowly faded away. As he turned the pages in Chester’s albums some of the pictures just crumbled and fell to the floor. At this point he thought it was best to just let the memories rest in peace.

Lacey secured the

room and asked what she thought was a most important question. “When did color print film first come to be?”

“To be best of my knowledge in 1935,

but black and white film always showed more detail and lasted longer than color. Even now you get better results with black and white film. Why do you ask?” “Well, it seems like what we are looking for is probably in your Uncle Chester’s collection of color photographs instead of 69

black and white. The trick is trying to figure out when he really started using color film.” Lacey was raising very good questions and doing quick math William Alexander figured Chester probably started using color film exclusively about 1970. He also figured there was no way the first tiny room could hold that many albums. There had to be more someplace else. Also, if he and Lacey found the room, it was possible whoever ransacked the house found the room also. He had an idea. What if…? “Lacey is it possible there are smaller “rooms” in the walls like this that would accommodate say a storage bin of some sort?” “I suppose that’s possible, but I doubt if it would be in the walls, maybe between the floor and the concrete foundation. What are you thinking?” “I am thinking that maybe there are rolls of unprocessed film somewhere and that 70

that is the key to Chester’s message. Now the trick is where to begin.” “You are a city boy, William Alexander. Hand me one of those canes over there and help me roll up this rug.” William Alexander had no idea where Lacey was going with all of this but he willingly obliged.

He stood back and

watched as she tapped the floor in various places and then finally repeatedly in one place. One of the floorboards flipped up and Lacey reached inside the space. He held a flashlight as more than 50 rolls of film were removed from the floor space. The floorboard was replaced as well as the rug. Now the problem was what to do with the celluloid cache before them. In typical Chester style, all the rolls were dated, and Lacey sorted them in date order. William Alexander was afraid to even think what he had to do. He walked to the 71

wall safe, opened it and deposited a roll of film. He felt like an idiot. He stood there as if the safe was a microwave and some timer was going to sound if, and when the film was developed.

Lacey suggested using the egg

timer. That was the first time he heard her really giggle and the sound was infectious. When timer sounded William Alexander tentatively opened the door to the safe and just as before pictures tumbled out onto the floor; eleven color prints and one black and white Brownie print.

Lacey separated the

black and white print and placed the color prints in an envelope. Like kids watching popcorn pop, she and William Alexander fed the safe and sorted the results until all the rolls were done. It took longer than they realized, and Lacey needed to go check on Nanya.

William

Alexander never entertained the fact that 72

Lacey would have to leave at some point, and all of a sudden, the day became cloudy, and that feeling returned. He offered to drive her home, but she preferred to walk, promising to return as soon as possible. As he stood staring at the wall of pictures, he quickly realized one was out of place, no not out of place, out of scheme. Standing right in front of the wall he was drawn to the picture. He watched it fade to black and white and saw a man with his back turned to the camera beating a woman. Her wrists were bound as were her ankles. She was gagged and lying on a bed of garbage. The picture faded and returned to its original scheme. William Alexander returned to the bedroom, hugged the pillow Lacey slept on, and pretended the whole picture thing never happened.

He got up once to check the

picture on the wall and it was no longer black 73

and white but a picture of Cathedral Cavern and Jesse and Chester standing in front of the newer model Buick.

Chapter 10 Claude Thompson was a short stocky redneck bully who was the embodiment of the short man syndrome. He viewed his job as sheriff more like the ruler of Ash Fork, and his subjects were inferior little puppets who looked to him when something went wrong. Not only did he not give a rat’s ass if they all killed each other, he rarely moved unless some hot piece of tail came his way. That was 74

the worst part of living in a hick town –the lack of good pieces of ass.

Most

the

women in Ash Fork were either old Indians, old rednecks, too dark or too young for even him to consider screwing. He ordered lube by the gallons and these days he pulled the shades and got comfy on one of the cell bunks.

He popped in a DVD on the little

player sitting on the washstand and got busy with himself. He read about a tunnel method and his thick meaty fingers were just perfect. Lubed and laced together forming a hot tight wet tunnel, he slid them up and down his hard shaft. He cranked the sound up so he could appreciate every moan in the movie. The pace of his activity matched the pace in the movie and when the actors came, he came. This was how he remained sane without the company of a live, flesh and blood woman to get him off. 75

He was a hot head like his brother, but unlike Jimmy he was a hot head with a badge, a gun and authority. Claude Thompson had never struck a woman in his life – not that he didn’t want to, and not that he had not met a few who deserved a good whack upside the head every now and then, it just wasn’t his thing. People could forgive a man a lot of things, but hitting a woman was not one of them.

So many times, he warned Jimmy

about his treatment of Mavis, and each time it was like talking to a big stupid wall. Another thing he and Jimmy did not have in common was a love for Jack Daniels or any other spirituous liquor.

He valued his liver too

much. Lately his little brother had been pushing the limits of the law with his bullying.

Claude knew the only reason

people never reported it was because he was 76

the sheriff and they thought nothing would be done; and in most cases, they were right. Tonight, Jimmy had gone too far, and Claude’s worst fear was realized. Mavis was dead, and dead at the hands of his brother. Jimmy called in a drunken stupor to ask for Claude’s help in disposing of her body. This type of dilemma had resided in the recesses of Claude Thompson’s mind since they were teenagers and now, he had to make a decision. It was almost midnight when Claude left the station. The streets were deserted save for an occasional Indian walking alongside the road.

No wonder their numbers were

dwindling. No one could see them at night. Hell, he was white and would not walk down the lonely stretch of road running through Ash Fork. He turned the cruiser lights off and eased to a stop behind Jimmy’s house. His 77

first inclination was to make sure no one saw him there. The closest house was a little less than five hundred feet away and without any road lamps it was highly unlikely anyone could see anything.

Jimmy

Thompson

staggered back and forth from the front door to the back mumbling to himself as he awaited his brother’s arrival. “The stupid bitch did this to herself. All she had to do was obey me and give up some of that slit. I didn’t ask for much, just a good fuckin’ like any other husband; but no, she had to start watchin’ them talk shows and gettin’ all independent and shit. Who the hell was she to tell him no.? A wife was never supposed to say no; she was jus’ supposed to lay there and spread ‘em for her man. So, I was rough, I never put a mark on her anyone could see. I was careful. But when she said, “not tonight” that was it.” 78

Jimmy’s ears pricked up at a rustling sound outside the back door. It could only be Claude.

Whispering in hushed tones he

greeted his brother. “What the hell took you so long? We need to get this done sooner than later. After we dump her, we need to get back here and bag up everything and get rid of it also.” Claude Thompson pushed past his brother and looked in the pantry. Slumped against the far wall with flies covering her was the dead body of his sister-in-law. Mavis’ body was blue and swollen. The flies were feeding on the dried blood and the sight was enough to make Claude toss his cookies. Jimmy helped his brother carry the dead woman to the living room where they dropped her onto the braided rug and rolled her up in it. Claude placed a drop cloth on the floor of the trunk of the cruiser and went 79

back inside to help Jimmy put the body in the trunk. The ride to Dante’s Descent took less than ten minutes and within fifteen minutes they were back at Jimmy’s. Several contractor trash bags were filled with nearly everything in the house, weighted down and taken to the same sinkhole.

Mavis’ body had already

disappeared beneath the surface of the muck and as each bag was tossed in, it too sank quickly. Claude drove in silence back to the house.

When Jimmy exited the cruiser,

Claude had a few words for him. “After today I am no longer your brother. From now on you are on your own. Smart money says you lay off the booze and get your act together.” Claude Thompson returned to the station, took off his clothes, put another DVD in the player and lay down on the cot. He pumped a dollop of lube in his hands and 80

jerked off to the action on the screen. He slept well that night, better than he had slept in a long time because the weight of his brother Jimmy had been lifted from his shoulders. __________ Jimmy Thompson surveyed the nearly empty house.

Reaching under the sofa he

found the bottle of Jack Daniels. Holding the bottle in the air he made a toast, “Fuck you dead bitch, may you rot in hell. Fuck you Claude. May you rot right along with Mavis. Who needs either of you?”

Chapter 11 Lacey Wildgoose stooped down as the police cruiser drove past her.

She had

planned on being at William Alexander’s 81

earlier, but she had more to do for Nanya than she thought. When she left Nanya handed her a bag packed with at least a week’s worth of clothes and an Indian good-bye.

Her

Nanya delivered her messages as bluntly as possible and Lacey got her drift loud and clear.

The two men in the cruiser never saw

her and she could tell right away that it was Claude Thompson and his brother Jimmy. They passed her twice before she reached the log house. Most likely Claude was rescuing his brother from some drunken binge. The house was dark, and Lacey had to knock hard to arouse the sleeping man. When the door opened William Alexander pulled her inside, dropped her bag on the floor and held her as if he had not seen her in weeks. He held her as if he never wanted to let her go. 82

It was obvious that something had

happened. Breaking the embrace, Lacey held the man’s hand as they walked through the house.

The kitchen was still clean which

meant he did not eat dinner. The bed was still made up. The pictures were still as she left them.

Unless someone called or came by

Lacey was at an immediate loss as to what could have happened.

She searched the

man’s face for answers and found none. Maybe he was just glad to see her. Truth be told she missed their time together also. She had no choice but to ask. “Soooo, did I miss anything?” “Funny you should ask. After you left, I was sitting on the sofa staring at the wall when I noticed one of the pictures looked odd.

When I walked over to it the scene

changed like last night in the bedroom. Only this time I saw live action.

I saw a man

arguing with a woman and beating her. Her 83

ankles were bound, and she was gagged, lying on some garbage. His back was to me so I could not see his face. I blinked and the picture was back to the way it was originally. I went into the bedroom and the picture there had changed back also. What does all of this mean?” Lacey thought that somehow 1a.m. was not the ideal time to unravel the mystery. She would make chamomile tea and tell William Alexander her news.

Maybe that and

someone to cuddle with would get him through the night. As they sat at the kitchen table eating biscuits and jam and drinking the tea, Lacey informed him that she would be there with him for as long as it took. Her Nanya was convinced the spirits were talking. Lacey put the dishes in the sink and climbed into bed with William Alexander. Spooning him from behind she put her arm 84

across him, and they slept. Even in her sleep she knew the pictures were active and that when they awakened once again the house would be different.

__________

Tom Morgan tallied up the day's receipts and put the last of the dishes away. He made the decision to close the café until he could find a suitable manager to replace Mavis.

The operation of a plaza café in

Hicksville, Arizona was not what he signed on for after thirty years with the company. He found the Help Wanted sign and placed it in the window.

His phone number was

written at the bottom. The whole situation was just a shame. Mavis had been in charge from day one and now she seemed MIA. Tom walked to the door to lock it and came face to face with Jimmy Thompson. It was at times 85

like this when he wished he carried a gun and had the balls to use it. “Open the door you weasel. I came for my Jack Daniels.” Tom knew logic was beyond the reach of the drunkard, but he was willing to try anything. Maybe if he just opened the door slightly and handed him the bottle he would go away. “Let me get it for you and I will hand it to you through the door.” “What the hell’s your problem piss ant? Anti-social now? I feel like having company while I drink.” “Why don’t you go home to your wife and keep her company?” “Look your stupid idiot, either you open this damn door so I can get my Jack Daniels, or I’ll tear it off the hinges and shove it up that tight prissy ass of yours.” Clearly this was a situation Tom had no control over. If he opened the door he would 86

be at the mercy of the bully. If he did not open the door, chances are Jimmy Thompson would destroy the place. “JJuust give me a minute to get the keys and I will let you in.” When there was no response Tom looked out the window and the man was gone. Maybe Jimmy took his advice. Just as he began to relax, the back door was suddenly in the dining room, and Jimmy Thompson was wielding a tire iron and walking towards Tom.

Making the sign of the cross, Tom

Morgan closed his eyes tightly.

He never

heard the sound of the tire iron cracking his skull.

He was already dead by the time

Jimmy Thompson caved his rib cage in. Stepping over the dead man, Jimmy Thompson poured himself a glass of Jack Daniels and drank it down. He knew there was a box of plastic drop cloths in the storeroom, just big enough to wrap the dead 87

district manager in. Dripping wet the man could not weigh more than one hundred thirty pounds.

Jimmy stuffed the plastic

wrapped stiff into two garbage bags and secured them with twine. He poured himself another glass of Jack Daniels and loaded Tom Morgan into the back of his pickup.

This

would be his third trip to Dante’s Descent and his last. Then he could finally go home and get some sleep.

__________

Nanya Wildgoose took a long pull on the pipe and watched the pickup drive away. Before she returned home the back door had been repaired, the bottle of Jack Daniels removed, and the lights were turned off. From the outside, everything looked as it should.

Chapter 12 William Alexander woke up suddenly with a blinding headache. His head hurt so bad he saw stars, and the back of his skull was tender to the touch. He was in trouble and he needed Lacey’s help. Feeling around in the bed he noticed right away that she was gone. He tried to call out but could not.

panicked and tried to stand up, but a hand on his shoulder forced him back onto the bed and an ice bag was placed against his neck. “Here take these and take a sip of water.” He recognized Lacey’s voice, but how? How did she know? “How did I know?

In my dream I

heard the sound of a skull being struck. I saw a man collapse to the floor and then I heard you cry out. Somehow between the pictures 89

and the dreams we are reliving something terrible.” “Lacey, what time is it?” “It is 3:15 am.” “Have they…have the

pictures

changed?” Lacey was never good at lying and though she and William Alexander did not consciously

know

each

other

well,

subconsciously they could read each better than an old married couple. “Do you remember the first picture you saw change?” “Yes, yes of course. It was the one over the bed.” “Do you remember the second picture that changed?” “Yes, it was on the wall in the living room.” “What if I told you that both of those pictures are hanging on the wall in the living room side by side, and that the blank black 90

and white picture from Chester’s last roll was in the middle of the other two?” “I would say the way my head feels all I want to do is go back to bed and for you to cradle it in your arms against your chest and go back to sleep. I don’t want you to leave me alone.” Lacey switched off the lamp and held William Alexander in her arms, as they drifted off to sleep. She uttered a silent wish to the spirits to allow them to rest and regenerate their energies for the daunting task that lay ahead of them. The dreams returned, this time as a slow slide show - vivid and animated.

Lacey

fought against the black and white images trying

subconscious.

burn

themselves

They continued

into

her

to feed

information about horrific things, information she did not wish to receive.

She was not

awake nor was she asleep. She was standing 91

outside

herself,

watching

she

was

incorporated into the fabric of the madness. She felt William Alexander stir and his hand tighten on hers. He was dreaming also. His legs and feet were moving as if he were trying to run away from something.

He was

moaning, and sweating, and beginning to shake almost uncontrollably. Lacey had no choice but to leave the dream and awaken William Alexander. They laid there without speaking; the only sounds in the room were the echoes of their hearts beating. ached

and

aside

His head no longer from

feeling

slightly

confused he felt as good as new. He snuggled close to Lacey and ran his fingers down her side. Her giggle lightened the mood and for the moment at least, they were once again in control of the house.

“Thank you for that William Alexander. How’s your head?” “You are quite

welcome

Lacey

Wildgoose, and it is I who should be thanking you for your kind and attentive ministrations in my hour of need.” Lacey began to laugh hysterically. The fact that he got that sentence out with a straight face was too funny for words. He was like a humorous version of Alistair Cooke. Unfortunately, she felt as if they were trapped

Alistair

MacLean

story.

William Alexander enjoyed the laughter as Miriam never laughed at anything he said. To his way of thinking the funniest thing she ever said was “I do” since she never did. “Change of subject. How about a little breakfast?” “Does it involving moving at all? My head is wonderfully comfortable against this nice warm breast, and my hand feels very 93

good resting between two soft thighs. You want me to give all this comfort up for food?” William Alexander was making it extremely difficult to be serious and Lacey felt as if she had unleashed a horny monster from the closet. “Well…for me, making love without a choir of tummy rumbles is a far more enjoyable experience, and with that I am off to whip up something delicious.” He watched as Lacey left the room. In his mind, she was the something delicious. Lacey used cooking breakfast as an excuse. She stood in front of the pictures on the living room wall. The black and whites were still there. Nothing else seemed to have changed at all.

Breathing a silent sigh of

relief, she started breakfast. William Alexander stood at the foot of the bed and stared at the picture, willing himself to remember why the scene was so 94

familiar.

Maybe it was from something

someone told him once, or maybe he heard his Uncle Chester discussing it. It would all come to him in due time he supposed. Now he was anxious to feed the safe. Lacey moved the envelopes containing the recent “safe” developed pictures and put the food on the table.

William Alexander

poured the coffee and began to shuffle the envelopes. “What should we do first, sort these out or feed the safe?” “Eat breakfast, wash the dishes and I will sort while you feed the safe.” __________ The morning passed quickly and by noon most of the film had been processed. Each time the results were the same – eleven color prints, one black and white brownie print. Finally, after the last roll was finished Lacey suggested they take a break and go to 95

the drug store William Alexander wanted to visit.

The day was a typical Ash Fork day –

temperature

hovering

just

over

one

hundred degrees and the sun bearing down like a cruel hot taskmaster. Lacey noticed a group of people engaged in conversation and that was rare. One man appeared extremely agitated.

Curiosity piqued, she decided to

swing by the Ranch House Café. If anyone knew the gossip it would be Lynette Jenkins. Cool and dark, the Ranch House was a pleasant respite from the oppressive heat. The first thing William Alexander noticed were the pictures on the wall; all black and white glossies in greasy dust coated frames. There was a picture of Dale Robertson driving a Cadillac with a set of horns on the hood. Another picture was of Ronald Reagan in the gear he wore in Death Valley Days. The place 96

reeked of grilled meat and hot peppers. Lacey motioned for him to sit down, and she went off to talk to the woman behind the counter. “Well, this is a surprise. How are you and who is that M-A-N with you?” “I’m good Lynette, and the man is Chester Wilson’s nephew. What is going on? I noticed a group of people talking.” “Where have you been? Apparently, Mavis Thompson got the nerve to finally leave that piece of crap husband of hers, and the plaza café is closed until they find a new manager.

I always felt sorry for Mavis.

Everyone hates that bully Jimmy Thompson, and now with the café closed I guess we will be seeing more of him in here. Can I get you two anything - on the house?” Somehow Lacey never saw Mavis as the kind of woman who would just up and go. It was no secret that Jimmy beat the crap out her and avoided jail because Sheriff Claude was 97

his brother. Lacey took two cans of soda to go and she and William Alexander resumed their trip.

Chapter 13 Jimmy Thompson turned over on the sofa and hit the floor. With the rug gone the landing was not as cushioned, and half asleep he called out for his wife.

“Mavis! Mavis! Get your sorry ass out here and help me up. MAVIS! Damn bitch. I know she can hear me. MAVIS THOMPSON get out here and help me now!!” Using the sofa as a brace Jimmy pulled him up back onto the sofa and stared at the pantry before bursting into laughter.

The

tears that flowed freely from the laughter soon turned to tears of realization. Mavis was not ever going to help him again. He killed her. He killed her and dumped her body in the sinkhole. “Shhhhhh. Do not talk so loud Jimmy, somebody might hear you. Not that it matters because they are all afraid of you, including that piece of shit brother of yours.

Mavis

deserved to die. She denied you her flesh. She told you no. She flirted with that Wilson guy. You did the right thing; she had to go.” After having the conversation with himself, Jimmy Thompson got into the pick99

up truck and drove to the Oasis Lounge. It was a little uppity for his taste but today was a special day, and he needed a new watering hole. Since they were within doors of each other, he could also grab a bite at the Ranch House. Maybe Lynette was working. What he would not give to get on the other side of her panties. As soon as Jimmy Thompson was out of sight Nanya Wildgoose took a few puffs of the pipe and went to work.

When she left

everything was as it should be. __________ The

ride

the

drug

store

was

uneventful. The town of Congress, Arizona was small but at least 20 times larger than Ash Fork, and with many more amenities. There was a supermarket, a drug store, a liquor store, and a laundromat. William Alexander purchased ten rolls of 35 mm color film. 100

Lacey promised to stop on the way back so he could take shots of Dante’s Descent and the Cathedral Cavern. Those were the two big tourist

attractions

and

attractions near Ash Fork.

the

only

tourist

They were also

incredible photo ops. The Arizona sky was the perfect shade of blue and the sun high enough to cast giant shadows as they approached the cavern. William Alexander loaded the Nikon and moved in close to get tight shots of the cave opening. There were a couple of tourists with those cheap disposable cameras evoking sighs of despair. He wished he could find the man responsible for the insult to quality cameras. Dante’s Descent was a photographer’s dream. Standing at the rim looking down into the sinkhole was an incredible feeling. Lacey threw a few good-sized stones into the sinkhole 101

where

they

unceremoniously

disappeared. William Alexander took several shots and one of Lacey standing near the rim. The trip and the distraction had been wonderful,

but

William

Alexander

was

anxious to get back to the log house to test out his new theory. Was it the camera or was it the fact that it was Uncle Chester’s camera that made the pictures “special”? Once home and relaxed, Lacey started lunch and he rewound the roll of film and deposited it inside the safe. When the egg timer sounded, he opened the door to the safe and as usual pictures tumbled to the floor - eleven color prints of the cavern and the sinkhole and the one he took of Lacey. The twelfth picture was a black and white photo of a late model car partially obscured by tall ornamental grass. Lacey did not recognize the car as belonging to any of the locals.

102

The afternoon passed quickly as Lacey and William Alexander reviewed and sorted the pictures from the rolls of film found in the floor space. Each picture seemed to play out a little vignette visible to both of them. Lacey recognized one woman in the picture, Ruby Crow. From what she could remember there were stories of how the woman just dropped off the radar some twenty years ago. William Alexander filed the color shots according to the date they were taken. He spread the black and white shots on the table in no particular order. No matter how he arranged them, they failed to create an informative mosaic. “Lacey, are any of Ruby Crow’s relatives still in the area?” Lacey Wildgoose shifted uncomfortably in the chair and it was the first time she did not look at William Alexander when she spoke. The question raised painful memories 103

for her.

“Ruby Crow was my cousin and

the shame of the family.

She worked the

highways near here. Some people said she was pregnant when she disappeared.

Nanya always believed she was murdered by someone who knew her well. “ William Alexander wanted to crawl into a hole. Obviously, the subject was one that caused Lacey great pain. That definitely was not the answer he was looking for, and he was already formulating a plan to make it up to her. I’m sorry seemed a weak apology but now it was all he had. “Oh my! I am so very sorry. I had no idea…” “It’s okay; how could you possibly have known?

You have not been in town long

enough to hear the scuttlebutt and it isn’t as if it is front page news anymore.

It was not

even front-page news when it happened. Claude Thompson had just become sheriff, 104

and I really only know what my Nanya has told me, but to the best of my knowledge it remains a cold case.” Now was clearly the time to change the topic.

If memory served him right Uncle

Chester had quite a collection of wines. Maybe he and Lacey could open a bottle and celebrate their new relationship. “Lacey could you do me a favor? Could you start a new album for the color photos? I have a couple of things I need to do.” Excusing himself, William Alexander searched the pantry and found what he was looking for. There was a nice bottle of red wine which he promptly uncorked to let it breathe.

His Aunt Jesse was quite the

romantic and there were candles and CDs and a variety of silk flower petals. There was also an

assortment

toiletries

that

complemented the candle fragrances.

selected sandalwood. 105

bath

Lacey

wondered

what

William

Alexander was up to. They had been together virtually every minute since they met, except when she went to check on Nanya. She hoped he was not beating himself up over the Ruby Crow thing. She would put him at ease later. The albums were coming along nicely. William Alexander put the CD in the player, poured the wine and filled the tub with warm scented water. He placed the candles around the bedroom and popped in a different CD in the player there. Satisfied everything was just so he called for Lacey. Running as if something was wrong, Lacey nearly bowled him over in the hallway. Catching her, he kissed her deeply. He knew she would be caught off guard. It had been years since he romanced a woman, and he hoped not to make a fool of himself. It did not take her long to melt into the kiss. 106

“Follow me my dear. I have something I want to show you.” Giggling Lacey looked him in the eye with one raised eyebrow and asked the quintessential question. “Is this a trick to show me your etchings?” William Alexander’s booming laughter filled the tiny space. “I assure you my dear, what I have to show you has been called a lot of things but never an etching.” Seated in the tub front to back, Lacey leaned against William Alexander’s chest and welcomed the feel of his hands. He was a gentle man who made gentle love, and this romantic gesture touched her heart. They set the stage for what was to come. The wine served to enhance the ambience of the moment. The soft glow of the candles in the bedroom and the scent of sandalwood were 107

the perfect aphrodisiac.

Stroking

him

lightly as she kissed him, William Alexander was in a state of total euphoric relaxation. Miriam did not believe in touching him “there” and the longer they were married the less she touched him anywhere.

Lacey had a magical mouth that took

him to heights he never realized before, but it was the reciprocal activity that gave him the most pleasure. He had no idea a woman got that hard and the way she held his head in place was a clear indication that she was enjoying every second of it.

Sexual satiety

overcame them both and sleep came quickly – so quickly that neither of them saw the photograph over the bed change again.

108

Chapter 14 Claude Thompson replaced the receiver back into the cradle and twirled a pencil through his fingers.

This was the second

missing person’s report he had filed today. The first was for Mavis of course. That one was mostly CYA so if anyone in the county seat were to ask questions he was covered. He never liked Mavis. She was irritatingly wifely no matter what Jimmy did to her. Most women would have shivved him in his sleep, but not Mavis. She just patted on a 109

little extra make-up and went to work at the café. Once she tore sheets in strips to bind her cracked ribs and swallowed a bunch of pain killers to hide the pain.

He did not think

anyone honestly believed she was that clumsy as she never so much as burned or cut herself at the café. The phone call was more interesting. It seemed that Mavis’ district manager Tom Morgan, last known destination Ash Fork, never reported in. Claude had no idea who the man was and did not recall seeing any strangers in town yesterday.

Maybe he

should drive out to the café and take a look around. Jimmy could not have been involved as he was busy doing his wife in and getting plastered.

__________

Lynette Jenkins poured the coffee and backed away. Jimmy Thompson was her least 110

favorite person in Ash Fork. Obnoxious and verbose, not to mention being a bully, most people avoided him like the plague, and the fact that his wife was missing did not help matters. Everyone in town figured he filed the missing person’s report to protect his dignity. Lynette was just grateful her shift was almost done. All that was left was giving him his check. She laid the piece of paper in front him and walked away. “Hey you, Lynette Jenkins.

I want a

warmer.” “Someone will refill your cup in a minute. I’m off the clock.” “Well get the hell back on the clock bitch and fill my cup.” Lynette ignored Jimmy’s outburst and went out the back door of the restaurant. The next thing she knew she was bent over the hood of a car and pinned down, and Jimmy Thompson’s hand was up her dress. 111

“They say it ain’t rape if the woman wants it and you want it don’t you Lynette?” “Back away from her Jimmy and back away now.

Lynette, you just go on about

your business and I will handle this. We’ll talk tomorrow, now go on.” Claude Thompson slapped

Jimmy

across the face as hard as he could. Things were out of control and Lynette Jenkins was not just going to just let this drop and neither would her son. “Are you crazy or do you just have a death wish Jimmy?” One more and I swear I am going to lock your sorry ass up and throw the key in the sinkhole.

Now get the hell

away from me.” The old eyes had seen enough.

She

tamped out the pipe and slowly walked away. It was in the hands of the spirits now.

112

Chapter 15 William Alexander tossed restlessly as the dream took him deeper and deeper into the nocturnal abyss.

The shuffling sound

played in the background as the voices and images ran through his head like a slide show on fast forward. It was a mosaic of terror with flashes of activity blazing themselves into his brain. The woman with the ropes and gag sleeping in the garbage was there. The little man in the restaurant was there as well as Nanya. Jesse and Chester and the loudmouth man in the café. The noise was deafening, and he felt like a drowning man fighting for air.

His throat was tight and sweat oozed

from every pore in his body. Lacey began to shiver,

her

teeth

chattering like small door knockers and she was cold - so very cold. They were in her eyes 113

and her ears, screaming in whispers as they tugged at her soul. It was not a language she understood. The lights were like super-novas, blinding her, as decayed hands reached for hers.

The sinkhole erupted in a mucky

volcanic shower with the sins of the town spewing forth. She fought for consciousness, silently pushing aside the curtains of fear. She called out to the spirits to release her and they responded. “William Alexander! Wake up! Fight to wake up!” Slowly

coming

life

William

Alexander shook off the dream and reached for Lacey. The walls in the log house were alive and they were talking, talking through Chester’s pictures.

Running into the living

room they watched as the black and white pictures arranged themselves on the wall. There they were – all the victims, their hands 114

reaching through the frames, their voices telling their stories. There was Rose Crow, and Tom Morgan, and Mavis Thompson, and Jesse Wilson, and Chester Wilson, and in each picture, there was a single constant, Jimmy Thompson! Seating themselves on the sofa William Alexander and Lacey Wildgoose saw Jimmy Thompson arguing with a young Jesse Wilson about her relationship with Chester.

blamed Chester for stealing the older woman from him. The scene fast forwarded and there was Jimmy striking Jesse with an axe handle and dumping her in the tall grasses along old Route 66. They watched as Jimmy Thompson and Ray Standhope raped Rose Crow. Ray had a tattoo on his upper arm which mostly likely was the shot Chester was aiming for that day in the john. The scene then showed Jimmy 115

and Ray arguing over Rose Crow. The next scene was of a pregnant Rose Crow walking down Beale Rd. when suddenly she was mowed down by a pickup truck. Left by the side of the road she gave birth to the baby before she died. The driver backed up, got out and choked the woman until she went limp. He loaded her into the truck and threw her into Dante’s Descent. Chester Wilson witnessed the murder and followed Jimmy. He took a picture of him dumping the body. The flash startled Jimmy. Chester made it inside his car, but the Buick stalled. He began experiencing chest pains, panicked,

and

reached

out

Jimmy

Thompson who stood there and laughed as Chester took his last breath.

The scene

changed again, and a young Lynette Jenkins picked up the baby and began running away from the Beale Rd. 116

The wall changed once again, and the pictures revealed twenty years of abuse tolerated by Mavis Thompson; the broken bones sticking out from the dead flesh as testimony. William Alexander cringed as he watched Jimmy tie the woman up and beat her with a broken chair leg. Shock set in as he watched the sheriff help dispose of the body. The scene changed again to the café and Tom Morgan being murdered at the hands of Jimmy Thompson.

Broken like a twig and

dumped like a bag of trash, just like all the others.

Tom Morgan’s car was driven and

dumped in Cathedral Cavern. Lacey Wildgoose wept openly as the faces of the lost told their stories. It was all surreal, and the fact that Jimmy Thompson had been responsible for all of it was unfathomable. Once the picture was complete the voices were silenced. It was all there, all 117

the answers. William Alexander opened the front door of the log house and stepped back. When the last frame was empty, he closed the door.

__________

Claude Thompson took off his clothes and lay down on the cot. The new porn DVD was playing, and he was following the action stroke for stroke when suddenly the movie stopped. One by one the pictures from the wall began to fill his screen.

Unseen arms

pinned him to the cot as one by one the victims displayed their wounds. The entire jug of lube was pumped down his throat and the gag used to silence his deceased sister-inlaw was shoved in his mouth blocking his windpipe. His right eye was plucked out and maggots crawled through the open socket. 118

Never again would he turn a blind eye to anything.

After

the

incident

with

Jimmy

Thompson, Lynette Jenkins decided to return to Ranch House and called her son to pick her up. The evening news was interrupted by the slide show of pictures from the log house. The place went deathly quiet as the patrons watched the horror unfolding on the small screen. As if on cue as the last scene ended everyone left the restaurant.

119

Chapter 16 Standing in the middle of his empty living room Jimmy Thompson swore loudly. He was still madder than a wet hen at his brother for stopping his little action with Lynette Jenkins. She knew she wanted it and he had just the equipment to give it to her. It took him several minutes to realize that his 120

house had been totally cleaned, and he had no idea who the hell would clean his place. Mavis never was a good housekeeper; always at that damn café flirting with the likes of men like that damn Wilson. What a wus. If it were up to him, he would shove that damn camera up Wilson’s ass. About the only thing that worked in Jimmy Thompson’s house was the television. He switched it on and took a swig from the new bottle of Jack Daniels. The screen went blank briefly and then slowly the slide show began. “What the hell…” He tried using the remote to switch the channels, but the picture was always the same. There was some sort of ruckus in the front yard. He snatched the door open and yelled loudly at nothing. Just as he closed the 121

door, he felt a sharp pain in his ribcage, followed by a blow to his thigh. They were all there- Mavis, her blackened eyes, and broken ribs sticking through her decaying flesh, Chester Wilson with the same look of surprise he had when he died, Jesse Wilson battered – the imprint of the axe handle across her face. The weirdo manager, Tom Morgan walked towards Jimmy, his body severed in the middle and each part moving on its own. Rose Crow was also there; the bloody umbilical cord hanging from between her legs.

The only person not there was Ray

Standhope who met his end years ago at the hands of an angry husband. They stood there exacting their revenge as their stories slowly rolled across Jimmy Thompson’s television screen. When the screams ended the good people of Ash Fork escorted the battered and 122

broken body of Jimmy Thompson to the rim of Dante’s Descent. The crowd parted as the old Indian stood there smoking her pipe. The spirits had spoken. A sudden breeze came up and Jimmy Thompson’s body disappeared. __________ William Alexander once again opened the door to the log house and waited. One by one the frames were once again filled with Chester Wilson’s color photos and the house was once again at peace. Lacey Wildgoose stood in front of the wall and listened but there was no sound.

William Alexander

picked up the Nikon and looked through the viewfinder. The view from Chester Wilson’s camera was indeed a beautiful sight.

123

The End

124

125