Demon Page 9

  Mary-Lou swallowed. “He’s in the gym, Tracey,” she said. “Sitting beside Lori Morrison.” She hesitated.

  “Go on,” said Tracey, through gritted teeth.

  “He’s got his arm round her. He hasn’t left her alone all day. They seem very....close.”

  “That cow,” said Tracey. “That fat, ugly cow.”

  “That’s another thing, Trace. She looks great. She’s lost loads of weight. And she’s done something with her hair. You wouldn’t think it was the same girl.”

  “Something weird’s going on,” said Tracey.

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. Something. And when I find out what it is, I’m going to make her pay. She’ll be a laughing stock by the time I’ve finished with her.”

  “I don’t know Tracey,” Mary-Lou sounded unsure. “She’s getting a lot of sympathy. Practically everybody’s taking her part. What with Wayne and all.”

  “Wayne. Who gives a hoot about Wayne?”

  “Trace,” even Mary-Lou sounded shocked. “He’s dead.”

  “So, pardon me if I don’t send flowers.” said Tracey “Pity whatever it was got Wayne, didn’t get Lori Morrison while it was at it.”

  Mrs Moody, making a detour en route to the Church Hall, spotted Mary-Lou leaning against the wall when she came round the corner of the school building.

  “You going into the rehearsal?” she said, as she came abreast of her.

  Mary-Lou, looking slightly guilty, said ‘hang on’ into the mouthpiece before clicking the off button on the mobile and nodding, “Yes.”

  “Do me a favour, would you?” Mrs Moody took the note out of her bag. “Give this to Lori Morrison? Save me a trip inside.”

  “Sure, Mrs Moody.”

  “Make certain you do it when Perry’s not around,” added Mrs Moody, as though the walls might have ears. “It’s from the young biker. It’s,” she winked. “you know, private.”

  Mary-Lou took the envelope, looked at it curiously. “OK,” she said.

  “Thanks,” said Mrs Moody, and she pottered off to her Bingo, considering her part of the bargain complete and wondering whether this was going to be her lucky night?

  “What was all that about?” Tracey wanted to know.

  “Mrs Moody,” said Mary-Lou. “With a note for Lori. From that biker. You know, the good-looking one with the red bandanna?”

  Tracey felt a stab of excitement. “Open it,” she said.

  “What!!”

  “Open it.”

  “But Tracey. It’s private.”

  “Why do you think I want you to open it? Open it, you idiot.”

  Reluctantly, Mary-Lou broke the seal, took out the single sheet of paper.

  “What does it say?”

  “It says – ‘Dear Lori. You know that you have something that I want. I desperately need to talk to you. It’s vitally important. I must see you as soon as possible.’ – It’s signed – Miguel.”

  Tracey didn’t exactly shout ‘Eureka’. But she felt like it. She confined herself to – “Why that two-timing little...We’ve got her.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “It’s obvious, isn’t it? She’s been cheating on Perry with this other boy.”

  “I suppose.” Mary-Lou didn’t sound too convinced.

  “ ‘You have something that I want’?” said Tracey. “ ‘I must see you as soon as possible’? Come on, Mary-Lou. Grow up.”

  “So, what should we do? We can’t tell Perry. He’ll know we opened the note.”

  “YOU opened the note,” said Tracey.

  “Only because you told me to.”

  “Try proving it.”

  “Tracey, that’s not fair.”

  “Who ever told you life was fair?” said Tracey. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Nobody’s going to know,” she paused... “unless...”

  “Unless what?”

  “Unless you don’t bring it round to me right after rehearsal.”

  “What are you going to do with it?”

  “I’m going to wait until it’s dark and then I’m going to stick it on Perry Johnson’s windshield where he’ll find it first thing in the morning,” She gave a nasty laugh. “Let’s see how long the romance lasts then. And when I come back to school,” she added, viciously, “I’m going to scratch Lori Morrison’s stupid eyes out. I’ll teach that fat cow to try to steal MY boyfriend.”

  As luck would have it, the last street on Barney McGee’s route that particular Monday, was the one where Lori lived. He was sweeping litter out of the gutters and as he came opposite the drive, Marge came out and waved ‘hello’.

  “Hey Barney,” she called. “You coming down the diner later?”

  “Sure am.” He was looking forward to a burger and a soda just as soon as he finished up.

  He watched Marge to the end of the street, thinking to himself as how she was still a good looking woman. Great legs. What she had ever seen in Ted Morrison...? He wondered where Ted was? Watching TV as usual. But no, here he came too, with Ted Junior in tow. They climbed into Ted’s ancient pick-up, dog and all, and drove off in a cloud of smoke in the opposite direction. Of course. There was a local game on down the baseball pitch. Ted was probably going to lay a few bets.

  That meant the house would be empty.

  It didn’t look as though Ted had locked up, either. Just pulled the door too. Might have an automatic lock, of course? Never could tell.

  Barney thought about the kid, Miguel, about the Indian thingummy jig that he’d said was his. The kid had been good to him. Been interested in his stories. Treated him like a human being. Like a friend. True, he’d said that Barney shouldn’t bother about it any more. That it was dangerous. Said something about as how somebody was ‘out of their head’...

  Barney brushed his way across to the end of the Morrison’s driveway, whistling under his breath. The he glanced up and down the street to see if anybody was watching. The whole road was deserted. Not a living soul in sight. He’d really like to do the kid a favour. And if nobody was in....where was the harm?

  Barney took a snap decision he’d give it just one more go. Propping his broom against the gate-post, he trotted up the path and tried the door.

  17

  It opened straight away. Either Ted Morrison had a high regard for his neighbour’s honesty (which Barney doubted) or there was nothing in the place worth stealing.

  Barney took a final glance up and down the street. It was quiet as the grave. Furtively, he let himself into the house and pulled the door too behind him.

  The interior was dim after the early evening brightness outside. Barney stood statue still with his back to the door and allowed his rheumy eyes to adjust. Even though he knew there was scant chance that he’d be caught, still his heart had begun to beat that little bit faster. He could feel it in the pulse at his throat. The old ticker wasn’t all that it might be.

  Lori might be home from school any minute. He hadn’t seen her come back yet. But it was late. Must have stopped for a soda or something. Unless....A sudden thought froze him to the spot. Maybe she hadn’t gone into school today? What with all the kerffuffle at the swimming-hole. Wayne. All that. Maybe she was in the house?

  “Hello,” he called into the silence.

  But there was no reply.

  Barney let out the breath he hadn’t even realised he was holding. It was now or never.

  He knew the general lay-out of the place from yesterday’s sortie, so without further ado, he made for the stairs that led to the upper floor. Two minutes, he calculated. In and out of her room. Grab the charm and skeedaddle. Nobody would be any the wiser.

  Slowly, slowly, he padded up the stairs, listening for signs of life from above. In case she WAS there. In case she was having a nap.

  “Lori?” he called again.

  What would he do if she suddenly appeared, asked him what he was doing there? Or worse, screamed, calling the cops down on his head? Breaking and entering. Worth more pok
ey time than the overnight he usually got for drunk and disorderly.

  He hesitated three steps from the top, turning slightly, listening, ready to hightail it out of there. But the house was quiet, had an empty, abandoned feel. There was something else too, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

  He shivered.

  That was it, it was cold. Not fresh, air-conditioning cold, which would have been a relief after the heat outside, but damp and clammy. Heavy. Smothering. And there was a smell as well. Sweet. Sickly. It reminded him of something.

  When Barney was a boy he’d been present the day they found young Diego Ramirez’s body in the swimming-hole. The kid had apparently dived in and hit his head on a rock. He’d sunk right to the bottom and got caught in the weeds. He’d been missing for a couple of months. Everybody thought he’d gone AWOL. It was common knowledge that his Dad used to knock him about. But that memorable day, the flesh on the ankle that had got tangled in the weed, softened by all that time underwater, came away from the bone and Diego had risen to the surface, all blue and bloated.

  It was the same smell. Decomposition. Death.

  Barney shook himself out of the memory. He hadn’t thought about it for years. No sense in spooking himself now. Best get on with it.

  He pulled himself together and mounted the last three steps, shuffling along the upper hallway, homing in on Lori’s room.

  The atmosphere, the cold and the smell, seemed thicker here. It was as though something was holding him back, like there was a wall of nastiness guarding the door. His skin started to crawl and he felt the hairs lifting on the back of his neck.

  “Withdrawal symptoms”, Barney said to himself, his voice, loud in the silence, making him jump. He needed a drink. He’d already got the shakes. His imagination and his conscience were just adding to the chemical reaction. He promised himself that, if he got out of here in one piece, he might allow himself just one little beer?

  The road to perdition.

  Slowly he turned the knob and stuck his head inside. After all this, he hoped Lori hadn’t taken the blamed thing to school with her.

  The room was even dimmer than the rest of the house, the curtains drawn and the blinds down. But as his eyes became accustomed to the gloom his heart gave a little jump of relief. No. Luck was on his side. There it was. Hanging on the end of the bed, just where he’d seen it before.

  Barney lurched into the bedroom, grabbed the Dreamcatcher and was just turning to leave when he heard the sound of a car drawing up outside.

  He moved to the window and lifted the edge of the blind with one finger. Just a sliver. Just so he could see into the road.

  It was Perry Johnson’s red roadster. And he had Lori with him.

  Barney froze.

  Don’t panic. Kids park. They talk. And those two looked as though they had a lot to say to each other.

  Out the back way then. Through the kitchen. Hide by the garbage bins. Wait til Lori comes in the house. Hope she comes in the front way. Sneak round the side and away. Damn it, the broom. He’d left the yard-broom by the front door. Maybe she wouldn’t notice it? Stop talking to yourself. Get out of here. Now.

  Barney let the blind drop, sneaked out of the room, tip-toeing down the stairs, along the hall, through the kitchen and out the back door. Goose-pimples all the way now. Heart hammering fit to beat the band. Closing the door behind him, quietly, quietly.

  Relief. Just wait. OK? Wait until Lori comes in. Then round the side of the house and get the blue blazes out. Take the thing to Miguel. Maybe have that beer? Wait. Relax. Almost free and clear.

  Almost.

  But not quite.

  Barney, squatting down, back to the garbage cans, panting like a thirsty dog, laid the charm down between his feet while he wiped his sweating palms on his Salvation Army issue overalls. Then he closed his eyes. Composed himself.

  The first thing he thought when he opened them again was that whatever it was must like garbage. Because the only other time he’d seen the thing it had been in the vicinity of garbage cans too. That time it had been disguised as an old woman. This time it was just itself. Whatever THAT was. It swirled up from among the cat-gut and feathers like a genii out of a bottle. An ageing drunk’s worst nightmare made flesh. Something with scales and claws and hooves, a thick tail with a scorpion sting at the end, a forked tongue in a lip-less mouth. And eyes....dozens of the damn things all over its bulbous head.

  The second thing Barney thought was that there was no justice. That when the Demon drink eventually came for him, which he’d always suspected it would, it should be on one of the few occasions in his booze-sodden life, when he was stone cold sober.

  After that - well - Barney didn’t have a chance to think of anything much at all.

  18

  This time Lori got her kiss. It was even better than she’d anticipated. She was on cloud nine as she got out of the car. She didn’t really want to say ‘goodbye’.

  Her Mom would be at work by now and she noticed that her Dad’s pick-up wasn’t parked in its usual spot. Someone had left a yard brush at the gate. She decided she’d take it round the back, look in the kitchen and, provided neither her Dad nor her loathsome brother were in evidence, invite Perry in for a soda.

  “Let me check if there’s anybody around,” she said and Perry stretched his tanned arm along the seat and grinned in anticipation and said “OK”.

  Lori trundled up the path and round the side of the building, dragging the yard-brush behind her and humming ‘Over the rainbow’ under her breath.

  Barney McGee was lying on his back beside the garbage cans, his arms in a T-shape. He looked as though he’d been through a mincing machine. His eyes were wide open. So was his stomach, its contents strewn around him like spaghetti. His right hand was clenched in a fist from which protruded a leather loop and several bedraggled feathers. His throat had been torn out.

  Lori stood stock still, paralysed with shock.

  Then, without thinking, more as a reflex action, she bent and prized the Dreamcatcher out of his hand. She shoved it down the neck of her shirt, inside her bra. It was slightly sticky. After that, she opened her mouth and started to scream.

  Perry Johnson was as white as a sheet when the Sheriff arrived. He was leaning against the bonnet of the red roadster, his arms around an hysterical Lori Morrison who was shuddering and sobbing into his chest.

  “He’s round the back,” said Perry, shakily.

  “Touch anything?” Rube asked.

  Perry shook his head.

  “Stay there,” said the Sheriff. “I’ll be right with you.”

  He walked round the back of the house, thinking that it never rained but it poured. First Wayne Maxwell and now Barney McGee. Dot on the card with Barney, of course. Wonder his liver had stood the abuse this long. This one would be purely routine.

  Then he saw the corpse.

  “Holy godfathers,” he said, sucking in his breath in disbelief. In all his years on the force, he’d only ever seen one other body in this state. For a brief period during his training, he’d been stationed up country, close to the Canadian border. A hungry grizzly had come on a lone camper. The results had been much the same.

  But there were no grizzlies in Cactus County. What then? A desert wolf? A coyote?

  Coyote. The half-breed. Surely not? Only a maniac would do this to another human being. But for some unknown reason the boy had befriended Barney. They’d been seen around a lot together over the weekend. Wait a minute, what about motive? The kid would need to be crazy to do such a thing. Then again, a lot of people WERE crazy these days. That was the scary thing about serial killers. They always looked so normal. Whatever, Rube figured he couldn’t afford to take a chance.

  He put in a call for the ambulance. Then he put in another, instructing Sam, his Deputy, to go straight round to Mrs Moody’s and pick up Miguel Coyote.

  “Use all the force necessary,” he said. “And cuff him. He could be dangerous.”


  Lori used the excuse that she needed to be sick to run into the house and get rid of the Dreamcatcher. She had to hide it. Somewhere where nobody else could find it. She couldn’t understand what Barney McGee was doing with it. But she didn’t want anyone else getting hurt.

  She stood in the hallway looking around wildly for somewhere to put it. Somewhere safe. Until she had time to think.

  Outside she heard the sound of the pick-up arriving, followed by the ambulance siren, followed by her Dad’s voice wanting to know what in tarnation was going on. They’d be coming in soon. Junior shouting. The dog barking. Where could she put it? Where? Where?

  She rushed into the front room, the one they hardly ever used. There was a sideboard under the window. She crossed to it and yanked open the top drawer. It was full of bits and pieces. String. Sellotape. She couldn’t just leave it there. It had blood on it. She’d need to clean it. Wait. There was an envelope. A brown envelope. Quickly, looking over her shoulder to make sure no-one was watching her, she opened it and slid the Dreamcatcher inside. She’d come back and pick it up later. When nobody was about. When she’d had time to make some sort of plan.

  She slammed the drawer shut.

  Then she went into the kitchen and threw up in the sink.

  19

  “Ohmygod, Tracey, what happened?”

  Mary-Lou stared in horror at the face that peered at her round the bedroom door. It was covered in blotches and sores, the red hair broken and spikey. Like Ronald MacDonald’s wig.

  Tracey stuck out a hand and yanked her friend inside, closing the door and locking it behind her. Then she held out the same hand, snapping the fingers impatiently.

  “Where is it?” she said.

  May-Lou took the note from her purse and handed it over.

  “What’s wrong?” she said. “What’s the matter with you?”