Chapter67 A Final Confession

When they arrive, Ruth's sitting behind her desk polishing her nails. She blushes while greeting the sheriff, "Hi, Lloyd." The sheriff tips his Stetson. "Good day to you, Ms. Ruth. My, that's a pretty dress you're wearing today." She blushes even more, and starts behaving like a giddy schoolgirl. "What; this old thing? Thank you, Lloyd." The deputy rolls his eyes and asks, "Do you two need a room or something?" The sheriff looks at the deputy and clears his throat. Ruth giggles; and, then asks, "Speaking of rooms, Mike; did you really drag old tubby out from his little, weekly sexcapade?" The deputy smiles and asks, "How'd you hear about that, Ruth? Fat boy didn't tell you; did he?" "Nah; I have a friend who works at the inn. She said some crazy deputy from here came, kicked in the door to the room where tubby was getting his freak on and dragged him out of there butt-naked. I figured it had to be you." "Butt-naked?" The sheriff looks back at the deputy. "He was dressed when you showed up." "Yeah; I stopped off and helped him get dressed. Man's got to have a little dignity…even if it is Al; I suppose." "Well, I'm glad you stopped; because seeing Al butt-naked isn't a sight I reckon I'd like to see." The mayor hears laughing coming from outside his door, and goes to see what's going on. He's shocked when he sees the sheriff and deputy out by Ruth's desk. He tries to close the door quickly; but, it's too late. "Al, Dude; what's happening?" The deputy shouts out. "Do you have a minute to talk…or, do you have company in there with you now? You big, studly love-machine you…wink, wink." The mayor huffs while reaching into his shirt pocket to retrieve his handkerchief; which he now needs to wipe off some of the perspiration forming on his forehead. "No; I'm alone, thank you. You might as well come in; before you kick in my office door, Deputy." "Oh, Al," the deputy teases, "I wouldn't kick in your door. There's no point to it; you know we're here already." The mayor turns and walks into his office. The sheriff tips his hat to Ruth; then, goes into the mayor's office, with the deputy walking right behind him. The mayor's sitting behind his desk waiting for the sheriff and deputy to sit. After sitting down, the deputy leans back and throws his feet up on the mayor's desk. The mayor doesn't say a word; but, the deputy notices the mayor looking disapprovingly at him. "No, that's alright; you don't have to ask…I don't mind." He smiles at the beet red, pudgy faced mayor. The mayor scoffs, "What do the two of you want?" The sheriff replies, "Al; we've come here to get some more answers from you." "Look here, Lloyd; I told you the other night I'm not telling you anything else! I told you too much as it is. If they found out I told you two anything, they'd kill me." "Like Ms. Delilah?" The mayor's quiet as he tries to pour himself a glass of water; but, his hands are shaking too much to complete the task. The deputy gets up, reaches across the desk and takes the glass and pitcher from the mayor's unsteady hands, pours him a glass of water, and puts it down in front of the mayor; then, returns to sitting down with his feet propped up on the desk. "Thanks." The mayor says in a low voice. The deputy gives him a quick little salute, and then, folds his hands; resting them on his chest. The sheriff repeats… "Like Ms. Delilah?" The mayor takes a sip of water. Again, he answers in a low voice, "Yes; just like Delilah. Oh God, help me." He covers his face with his hands and cries. The sheriff and deputy turn and look at each other. After a minute or two of allowing the mayor to have his little breakdown, Sheriff Faulkner walks around the desk, goes behind the mayor, and puts his hand on his shoulder. "Alrighty there buckaroo, pull yourself together." "I swear, Lloyd; I didn't know they were planning on killing her. I didn't know anything about it until after it was done. You have to believe me, Lloyd; I didn't know." He starts sobbing heavily. Deputy Hopkins…who's momentarily feeling some authentic pity for the shaken mayor…decides it would be best for him to leave. "Lloyd; I think I'll head on back to the station and check up on a few of my contacts to see what they've come up with." Sheriff Faulkner nods and says, "That sounds like a good idea, Mike. Let me know if you find out anything." "You got it, Lloyd." The deputy reaches over the desk and pats the mayor on his shoulder. The mayor looks up at the deputy as tears flow down his big, red puffy cheeks. The deputy tells him, "Take it easy, Mayor." Then leaves. "Al; we need to talk. Can we do that?" The mayor tries to compose himself, forcing back his sobs as he wipes away the tears flowing down his face; and, sniffles as he nods. "Okay, Lloyd." "Good." The sheriff walks out from behind the desk, sits back down, and waits for the mayor to get himself a little more together. When he feels that the mayor has settled down enough, the sheriff starts the conversation back up. "Okay, Al; are you ready now?" The mayor nods. "Alrighty then; who killed Ms. Delilah?" The mayor shakes his head and lets out a short, nervous laugh, "Boy, Lloyd, you go right to it; don't you?" "I don't like dilly-dallying, Al. I reckon we wasted enough time as it is with this case. Time to get this moving along; don't you reckon?" "Yes; I suppose so." The mayor blows his nose; then, tells the sheriff, "Let's see; I heard there was Gus, Phil from the gas station, Petey and George from the bowling alley…and…I heard that one of your deputies might have also been involved ." The mayor watches for the sheriff's reaction. The sheriff nods. "Ah; you must be referring to Deputy Grotto?" The mayor's surprised. "You know?" "Well; I kinda figured it out after I found out he was good ol' Jack's spy." "Spy? What do you mean, Lloyd? Oh my God, he's not…Christ, if he's reporting back to Senator Steinman…and, if he tells him that I told you anything…God, Lloyd, you…" "Settle down there pardner; he doesn't know you told us anything. And, I don't think he'll be around here anymore…being how he knows I'm onto to him. Besides, he was flapping his gums to me earlier today about good ol' Phil in the heyday; so, you should be just fine, Al." "He told you things about Phillip Steinman?" "Yup. And, that's why we came here today, Al. We wanted to confirm some of the things he told me. Also; some things he mentioned totally conflict with what you told us the other night. We wanted to see if we could possibly get our facts straight and work this mess out." "Sure, Lloyd." "Al, forget you're the Mayor and I'm the Sheriff; we need to talk to each other man to man…" The mayor jumps in, "Of course, Lloyd; I totally agree with…" Sheriff Faulkner cuts off the mayor, "No! Listen to me, Al…man to man…no bullshit. I need the truth…the God's honest truth. If I don't think I'm getting that from you, Al; I swear I'll kill you. Straight up; no bullshit." The mayor sits there with a stunned expression on his face as the sheriff explains, "Here's the deal, Al; I'll start by being up front with you. Like we told you the other night; the Lazinski's six-year-old little girl's gone. Mike's niece thinks that whatever spirit's haunting that house took her so that it can re-create the night of September 18, 1961; the night Mary Howell killed the serial killer." "You know about that?" "Yup. As a matter of fact, Beth and the Professor met with Mary out in New Hampshire and had a nice little sit down with her." "Oh my God." "Al; do you know who the killer was?" "No; who?" "I was asking you if you knew…we haven't figured it out just yet. You sure you don't know?" "I swear, Lloyd; I don't. But, you know who probably does; Roy Jameson." "Yeah well, Mike already paid Roy a visit; that's how we found out about Mary. He never told Mike who the killer was. I think he's going to take that to the grave with him." The mayor gets the bottle of antacid tablets out from his desk drawer and starts downing them, one after the other. After his eighth tablet, the sheriff tells the mayor… "Whoa! Slow it down there pardner; give ‘em a chance to work." The mayor gulps down the water left in his glass and pours himself another glass. "I'm sorry…would you like a glass of water, Lloyd?" "No thanks." The mayor takes a few more sips, then asks, "So, how are you planning on helping that poor little girl?" "We're not sure yet, Al; but, we only got to the 18th to get her back. That's why we need to know what in the tar nations is going on out there." "Of course; what do you want know?" "Grotto told me that Charles and Chelsea weren't really Phil's kids; that he had them switched with his own that died at birth?" The mayor nods. "Yes." "He also said that Charles never died of pneumonia at three. He had some sort of mental illness, and good ol' Phil, being the humanitarian that he was, had Charles committed into the state asylum; because, he was embarrassed by what he thought people would think?" The mayor nods again. "Yes." "Now; here's where we run into our little discrepancy of the so called facts. You said that Tommy murdered Chelsea with a hammer; right?" "Yes." "Well, now according to Deputy Grotto's version, there never was a Tommy. And, we never found any record of there being a Tommy either. So, what's the story here, Al? Was there, or was there not, a Tommy? And, if there was; did he kill Chelsea, or what?" The mayor looks down, rubs his hands together, and exhales. Then, he looks directly into the sheriff's eyes and tells him, "Yes, Lloyd, there was a Tommy…and, he did kill Chelsea with a hammer." The sheriff's staring at the mayor while rubbing his chin with his thumb and index finger. He finally says, "You know what, Al; I believe you. For the first time since this whole thing started, I could honestly say that I believe you. So, what happened?" "Tommy was conceived by Phillip's second wife; Lillian May." "Second wife?" "Yes. His first wife, Helene, somehow found out about his little switch made at the hospital that day; and, she became furious. They had a big fight one night; then, she mysteriously disappeared the next day…if you know what I mean?" The sheriff nods. The mayor continues. "So, he remarries Lillian May after a brief mourning period over his missing wife…" "Pardon me, Al, didn't mean to interrupt; but, how brief?" "A month." "He remarried in a month? Now, was this a serious rebound situation; or, did he know this Lillian May before?" "That would be the latter." "I see. Please, go on." "Not too long into their marriage, Lillian May conceives Tommy." "So, good ol' Phil is a soon to be poppa again?" "Sort of." "Sort of? Spill it, Al." "I said Lillian May conceived Tommy; I never said Phillip was the daddy." "Dip me in Armadillo shit! Did ‘ol Philly boy have any kids that were his?" "The last three were. But, Tommy's biological father would have been a Jason Fitzpatrick; their gardener." "Could you possibly get any more cliché' than that?" "Anyway; Phillip, who knew it wasn't his…how he knew that is another story altogether…found out who got her pregnant; and, before you knew it, the gardener mysteriously disappears." "Well, I reckon Ms. Lillian May was lucky that she didn't disappear. He must have had some kinda love for her." "Maybe. But, I'm thinking it was because Helene had recently disappeared; and, two wives missing that close together couldn't be overlooked by the police department…no matter how deep into his pockets he went for them." "I reckon so, Al. But, why no mention at all about Tommy; why didn't he just take the credit for planting the ol' seed?" "That I don't know." "So, they had Tommy; and, four years later he smashes Chelsea's head in with a hammer. Then what?' "Then, it's off to the old asylum with Tommy." "God damn it! He sent two babies to an asylum?" "Yes; but, if it's any consolation, at least Tommy's actions fit the punishment. From what I heard, that kid was an evil little child. I mean, some of the few people that knew what really happened weren't that surprised to hear what he did to Chelsea. Now. there's a problem when you could peg a four-year-old for a vicious killer, Lloyd." "I'll say. Al, did you ever hear anything about Charles and Tommy having contact with each other; being how they were both in the same institute?" "It's my understanding that Phillip made arrangements with the staff to make sure they never knew who each other was." "Let's do some math here, Al. Charles was sent there in 1924 at age three. Tommy in 1927 at age four. The serial killings started in 1947. That would make Charles about twenty-six and Tommy roughly twenty-four; so, I reckon they were both of age to be a serial killer…Tommy, of course, already holding the dubious honor of being a killer. What about Charles though? What was his condition? Do you know?" "No." "Do we know when or if they were released?" "I don't know that either, Lloyd." "Damn it! Okay, let's think this thing through here. Chelsea's looking for Tommy. Mary and Tommy called the killer Charles; but, Cindy says Tommy's going to be the one calling the shots during the re-creation. And, they could be lying…or, maybe there's just one…or…Hell if I know what's going on, Al! Shit!" The mayor watches the preoccupied sheriff pace his office talking aloud to himself. He takes a chance and tries to get the sheriff's attention. "Lloyd?" Nothing. "Lloyd?" "What? Sorry, Al; did you say something to me?" "I'm not sure I understand. Are you saying that their ghosts are running around out there?" "That's right, Al; and, they have Anna." "My God." "You think that's something, Al; wait til you hear this. There may only be one spirit out there…suffering from schizophrenia of all things." "What?" "Yup. Maybe now you can see why Mike and I have been coming down on you so hard to get answers." "I apologize, Lloyd; I had no idea. It's just that these Steinman's have everyone here under their control; especially that damn Jack Steinman." "Yeah well, he doesn't have me and Mike under his control." "Apparently not." "What I don't get is why this big cover up with the killings, and the fake disappearances, and…" "What fake disappearances, Lloyd?" The mayor pops another two antacid tablets. "Those seventeen families that supposedly disappeared without a trace. Roy explained to Mike how they were paid to move into that house; then, to vanish mysteriously. You know, to keep actual buyers away from the house." "Roy told Mike that?" "Yup. Why?" The mayor downs another two tablets; followed immediately by a full glass of water. "What's wrong, Al?" The mayor stares down at the calendar on his desk; not saying a word. Sheriff Faulkner pounds his fist on the desk and yells, "Damn it, Al; what is it?" "They really disappeared; it wasn't set up! We've got no idea what happened to them, Lloyd…Oh God, forgive me please!" The mayor throws his hands back over his face and begins to cry hysterically. The sheriff walks around the desk and pats the mayor's shoulders a few times; then, he leaves the mayor's office. The mayor cries for nearly half an hour before he's able to compose himself enough to open his door and call out for Ruth to go to lunch; for the second time. Ruth doesn't question him; she just leaves. Ten minutes after that, Mayor Albert Cromwell takes the .38 caliber revolver out of a small lock box he keeps in the right bottom drawer of his favorite antique desk, pushes the barrel into his mouth until he can feel the gun's nozzle against the back roof of his mouth, and pulls the trigger. At the corner of his desk, placed under the mayor's half-empty bottle of antacids, lies the very last note that he wrote. It reads… "God please forgive me for my part in all this and have mercy on my soul. And, to the Steinman's…fuck you if you thought I'd let you bastards kill me, too!"