The Evil Inside

“You think that she killed the Smiths? And Earnest Covington and Peter Andres?” Yates said, his smile still animated.

“We don’t think anything, really,” Sam said. “It’s starting to look like I don’t really have anywhere to go.”

“Why is that? Oh, yeah, I think Malachi Smith did it, but we are a somewhat transient community. Some maniac could have come in and hung around and moved on,” Yates said.

“There you go-room for doubt,” Jackson said, looking at Sam.

“I don’t know if that’s really room for doubt-Malachi Smith was caught red-handed. Or red- bodied, the way I hear it. I’m just surprised that you seem to be giving up so easily, Sam Hall. I mean, you are his defense attorney,” Yates pointed out.

“I’m not giving up,” Sam said, smiling.

“But we are investigating with research into the method and manner of the killings. These were crimes of passion, the way I see it,” Jackson said. “Overkill. Yes, those who are psychotic can practice overkill, but that usually comes with some form of torture. I think these crimes were perpetuated by someone with a real grudge.”

Yates groaned. “I see, I see, I see. And I’m supposed to have a grudge because of my son. Well, I don’t. David is doing extremely well. His grades are high, and he’s being scouted for a football scholarship by a number of major colleges. I don’t bear a grudge. Why should I? Malachi was taken out of school. That was that. I knew Peter Andres, of course. He was a substitute. All that poor guy did was try to help Malachi. I knew Earnest Covington. He came to meetings, too. He supported me. I’d have no reason in the world to hurt either of them-much less want to hurt either of them in a ‘crime of passion,’ as you say. And I suggest that you do meet Samantha Yeager. You’ll feel pretty ridiculous if you are thinking that she might have swept into town, killed Peter Andres, and waited around to kill Earnest Covington and then the Smith family. I’m afraid if you’re looking for someone with a grudge, you do have nowhere to go. And, sadly-and I mean that-that just leaves Malachi Smith hitting a breaking point and going crazy and on a murder streak. Not sure I blame the kid, but it’s a tragedy that Andres and Covington had to die along with the Smith family.”

“You feel nothing for them?” Jackson asked quietly.

Yates sighed and leaned across his desk very slowly. “Yes, I feel for them. But they created the monster, didn’t they?”

“Bratty little liars!” Angela exclaimed as Jenna revved the motor.

“Well, bratty, yes. Little, no,” Jenna said.

“They wouldn’t have dared try anything!” Angela said, her eyes flashing. “Or, if they had tried it, they would have been surprised. We’ve had some pretty good training.”

“Yeah, so have they-on the football field!” Jenna said with a laugh.

“You’re not armed. And neither am I…but still, we’re Federal agents,” Angela reminded her.

“I know. I was thinking that last night when the kid came at me in the cemetery. I’m glad I realized he was a little punk. Still, maybe it was a good thing I’m not armed-what if I had panicked and shot the kid?”

“You wouldn’t have…” Angela assured her. “So, where now?”

“I thought I’d park the car and we’d see what was going on in the center of it all.”

Angela groaned. “The men are going for tarot card readings. You’re not going to make me get one, too, are you?”

“No. I thought we’d see how Will is doing with his street entertainment.”

When they drove back to her uncle’s house and she parked the car, Jenna noted that Jamie wasn’t back yet.

“I wonder where he went. School has been out for a while, and he went in early,” Jenna said to Angela. “Call him.”

She was relieved when Jamie answered the phone right away. “You’ll not believe this, lass, but I’ve got myself a new patient!”

“Really?” Jenna asked.

“Um. And his name is Martin Keller.”

“The kid from the graveyard last night!”

“The same. Apparently, his mother was deeply concerned about the fact that he came home in his underwear last night.”

Jenna laughed. “Well, have you learned anything?”

“Ah! Patient confidentiality, I’m afraid. Suffice it that I tell you that a kid in his situation would be truly sorry about a little fiasco like you experienced last night. I think the fact that he’d have to see me would definitely make one such child repentant! I’ll see you all later then. I’ve just slipped out between meetings with…a patient…and the talk I must now have with that patient’s mother.”

“Go, uncle!” Jenna said, and hung up. She repeated the conversation to Angela, who smiled. “Well, it is interesting to listen to the mouths of babes!”

“That’s what Rebecca Nurse told me this morning. It’s the kids we have to get to-and I’m not going to feel guilty trying to question children, because it’s the adults who have gotten to them!” Jenna said.

They walked down to the pedestrian way. Once again, Haunted Happenings was in full swing. Stilt walkers in various costumes were posing for pictures and teasing the young and old alike. A troupe of performers was putting on a pirate skit.

Down toward the center they saw Will, resplendent in a sweeping velvet cape and top hat, and with a group of children sitting before him as he made multicolored light leap from a crystal ball and then dart about over their heads.

“He is a master of light and illusion!” Angela said.

“And knowing the difference between the real and the illusion,” Jenna added.

When Will saw the two of them watching him, he didn’t miss a beat in his trick as he motioned for them to stay. Jenna nodded, and they waited. He completed his act with a final sizzle of light in vibrant colors above the crystal ball, and then he bowed to the applause and promised he’d be back in a minute, when he’d present them with a little bit of the old “Trinidadian” fantasy, magic and illusion.

The crowd before them dispersed. Will swept off his hat and cape and hurried toward the two of them. “Wine bar right there-let’s slip in. I could do with a nice Cabernet!”

The establishment was as crowded as the rest of the area, but Will had apparently formed a bond with the young woman at the hostess stand and they were quickly brought to a small, intimate booth in the back. They were served quickly.

“You have news? Or you just wanted a glass of wine?” Jenna teased.

“Two things,” Will said. “Not fifteen minutes ago, I saw the head of that church old Abraham Smith attended. Goodman Wilson.”

“What? How did you know it was him?” Jenna asked.

“Oh, ye of little faith!” Will said in mock horror. “Jake. You’d asked Jake to delve into things. He pulled up everything you asked for, and then some, gave us all a nice thick dossier.”

“So, the churchman was here, in the middle of all this?” Jenna asked, surprised. “No liquor, no dancing, no singing…wouldn’t that include no bobbing for apples?”

Will shrugged. “Maybe it doesn’t relate to young children. He came and he looked around for a long while. Finally, he approached a group of children who had apparently come down as a school group.”

“And?” Angela asked.

“He bent down to talk to one of the little girls.”

“What did he say?” Jenna demanded.

“I don’t know, I couldn’t hear.”

“Oh,” Jenna said, sitting back in disappointment.

“Ah, but it brings us to the second thing I have to tell you,” Will said.

“So tell us!” Angela said.

“Well, one of the mothers recognized Goodman Wilson, too. She came over like a bat out of hell, and grabbed the little girl.”

“I guess no one likes an unusual church,” Angela said.