The Evil Inside

“I did hear what the woman said to him,” Will said. He lifted a hand before either of them could prod him. “She told him to get away from the children, that he had created Malachi Smith and caused everyone to die, and that his church was pure evil.”

“What did he do?” Angela asked.

“He just stood very straight and spoke to her calmly. He said that God loved everyone, and that Jesus taught us all to seek peace and to turn the other cheek. Then he walked away.”

“And that was it?” Jenna asked.

“Well, it was it as far as Goodman Wilson was concerned.” He smiled, waiting this time for one of them to ask him what else had happened.

“Will, damn it,” Jenna said.

“Okay, okay-another mother came running up to the pretty blonde woman. She set a hand on her shoulder and said, ‘Cindy! Cindy, please, please, don’t let all this upset you so much.’ And then the blonde-Cindy Yates, I figure, started crying, and she said, ‘It’s that man. It’s that awful man. He was trying to get near the children, and he creates killers. I wouldn’t be surprised if the wretched old bastard had helped Malachi Smith do all those killings.’”

“We are booked. Well, Madam Sam is booked. She’s the best, I’m afraid,” the ring-nosed girl at the counter told Sam and Jackson without much conviction.

“Oh, please, see if there isn’t something,” Sam begged, leaning on the counter and flashing her his best smile.

She smiled uncertainly in return. “Well…I don’t think I can get you both in.”

“You go. I can try again tomorrow,” Jackson said, letting out a feigned sigh of complete disappointment.

“No, I mean, really. I should have her on a break when her current client comes out, but you ask so nicely…I can slip you in,” the girl said.

“That is really good of you. Thank you, thank you,” Sam said.

She smiled and walked toward the back. Sam followed her.

“Just wait here. When the curtain opens, you can go on in.”

Sam waited as told. In a few minutes, a twentysomething-year-old heavy-metal rocker type man with jelled black hair, head-to-toe tattoos, earrings, lip ring and giant lobe rings came out looking as if he had just reached nirvana.

Sam walked on in.

“Madam Sam” was something.

She was sexy.

She reeked overt sexuality; in fact, he assumed that a good portion of her “clientele” had to be pubescent males. Her breasts nearly heaved out of her peasant blouse. Her eyes were ringed darker than a raccoon’s, and her boa constrictor seemed pleasantly entrenched with its head centered in her cleavage.

Sam sat down in front of her. She studied him for a moment and smiled. It was the kind of smile that made him imagine she might have a forked tongue of her own.

“I’m Sam, too,” he told her.

“Give me your palm,” she said.

He did so. She let out a soft sigh.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Well, I see here that your life is…about to change drastically. You’ve enjoyed the adoration and admiration of friends and strangers alike…but, ah! There’s just a twist and jiggle in the lifeline. You’re about to do something that will make you the laughingstock of millions!”

She looked into his eyes. He smiled. “I’m flattered. You know who I am.”

“And you know who I am. Now just ask your questions. I saw your girlfriend yesterday. You’re going to ask the same questions, and I’m going to give you the same answers.”

He smiled. He wondered if he would have corrected her about Jenna if he’d been the one to come in the day before. He doubted it. He’d known then what he wanted; he just hadn’t known if he’d get it or not. He wasn’t at all sure that one night constituted a relationship, but he knew that he was sure praying like hell for a second night like the one before.

“Actually, I’m not going to ask you questions. I just wanted to meet you. I’d been by to see Andy Yates, and he said that I’d be impressed. I am.”

“And now I’m flattered,” she said. “So-you no longer think that I’ve gone crazy and run amok and gone about town killing people?”

“All I’ve tried to do from the start is ascertain the truth.”

“The truth was handed to you on a silver platter on your drive into town,” she said. “Is that why you decided to take on the case? You just like a challenge? Or do you actually feel that sorry for the poor, demented kid?”

“I’m a sucker, I guess, for kids covered in blood.”

“Well, I honestly wish you luck.”

“Just curious-what do you think will happen now? The kid will probably have to sell the house. Should I see to it that he starts a bidding war between you and Andy Yates?”

Samantha Yeager took no offense at all. She stroked the back of his hand and seemed to stretch like a feral cat. “Oh, you are a naughty boy, thinking that Andy Yates or I might want to capitalize on this!”

“But you will, won’t you?”

She shrugged. “Maybe. Frankly, I don’t know if I even want the place anymore. It’s a long way down the road, the way I see it. I mean, the kid has a fantastic attorney, doesn’t he? Maybe you’ll still get him off.”

Sam stood. “Maybe I will. Who knows? Thanks for your time.”

“Oh, well, you’ll be paying for it,” she said.

He started out the curtain. She called him back. “Hey, handsome.”

He turned.

She smiled and leaned forward, crushing her breasts together and pushing the boa’s head from its perch. “If Red gets boring, give me a call.”

He came back in and leaned toward her, heedless of the boa. “I’ll do that,” he said. “But you know what they say about the Irish, and especially those with red hair. Tempers-and other things-run hot. But, hey, thanks for the invite.”

He smiled, reached into his pocket and produced one of his cards. He slipped it under the boa and into her cleavage.

“Nice touch,” she purred.

“Call me, will you, if you think of anything?”

“I can think of many things.”

Sam smiled again, turned and walked out. He paid his bill at the counter, slipping the clerk an extra ten for getting him in.

She rewarded him with a look of absolute adoration.

“Madam Sam” must have been raking it in, while the clerk just got to work.

Jackson was no longer in the store. Sam went out into the street to look for him, and at that moment his phone rang.

“I found a few strays,” Jackson’s voice told him. “Come on down to the wine bar. Jenna and Angela are here. I’m thinking it’s time to compare notes.”

“On my way,” Sam said, hanging up and heading the few doors down.

Will had gone back to put on another show for the appreciative audience enjoying Haunted Happenings. When Sam arrived, he squeezed in next to Angela.

Jenna couldn’t help but rue the fact that she was positioned between Angela and Jackson.

Getting ridiculous! she warned herself.

“How was your reading?” Jackson asked.

“Interesting. I’m going to crash and burn,” Sam said cheerfully.

“She knew who you were, right?” Jenna asked.