Colin began to read the story out loud but Hallock interrupted him. 'Go to the obit page. That's what we need.'
'You're right. Okay, here it is. My God.' He kept turning pages. There were three devoted to obituaries. 'Waldo, we don't even know what we're looking for.'
'I think we'll know it when we see it. You start on the left side, I'll read the right.'
Silently they read through the obits, checking names, looking for clues. And then Colin said, 'Perkins.'
'Who?'
'Perkins. Annie mentioned them to me.'
'What d'you mean?'
'She knew them.' The flashlight died. 'Shit!' He clicked it off, shook it, snapped it on again. Nothing. 'Now what?'
'Tear those pages out and put them under your jacket. We'll read them in the car.'
Carefully, Colin ripped out the pages, folded them into as small a square as possible, shoved it into his shirt pocket, and zipped up his jacket. 'Okay.'
They scrabbled to their feet and stumbled toward the steps. Upstairs they made their way to the front of the building without incident. Colin unlocked the door. They stepped outside, the rain lashing their faces and bodies.
'Run for it,' Hallock yelled.
Splashing through pools of water, they ran across the street, past the big oak and to the car. Inside, Colin unzipped his jacket, patted his pocket with a wet hand. 'Still there,' he said, relieved. 'Got any rags or anything? I don't want to touch the paper with these hands.'
'Look in the glove compartment.'
He pushed the lock and it snapped open. There were two napkins, looking as if they'd been used.
'Not mine,' Hallock said.
Colin dried his hands, dropped the napkins on the floor, and gingerly removed the folded papers from his pocket.
'Where's the light in this buggy?' Hallock asked.
Colin ran his hand over the roof. 'Try your side.'
'Got it.' He clicked on a muted light.
Colin unfolded the sheets and handed two to Hallock. He ran his finger down the page in front of him until he came to Perkins, Evelyn and Howard. Evelyn R. and Howard Mathew Perkins, residents of Seaville, died Saturday June 10th in the club Razzamatazz fire in Seaville. She was 35, he was 39.
Mrs. Perkins was born in Seaville, the daughter of the late Elizabeth and Franklin Heath.
Mr. Perkins was born in Bay View, the son of Alice and James Elliott Perkins. He was an employee of Riverhead Highway Department.
The Perkins are survived by their son, James Drew.
'James Drew,' Colin said vaguely.
'What?'
'Nothing.'
Hallock looked at him, raised an eyebrow. 'You find something?'
'No, it was just a name that sounded fam He trailed off, his eyes glazing over.
'What is it?'
'Oh, Christ! I don't believe it.'
'Maguire, will you tell me what the hell you're talking about?'
'I'm talking about a kid named James Drew Perkins. Sound familiar?'
Hallock looked puzzled.
'Try this: Jim Drew.'
'Jesus!'
'He was Annie's first boyfriend when they were eight.'
Hallock snapped off the light and started the motor. 'I hope to hell we're not too late.'
LOOKING BACK-75 YEARS AGO
Some bad boy or boys without a spark of common decency or speck of manly honor have been doing various things lately that will land them in the penitentiary if their identity should become known. The latest depredation occurred this week when the miscreants with heavy rocks smashed a portion of the walk and steps near the bottom of the landing of the new stairway and walks at the foot of the Sound Road. The Seaville Gazette will press the charge against the miscreants if their names can be learned.
THIRTY-NINE
When the blindfold was removed Annie looked around. She was in his barn, a small room off the main area. Boxes were stacked along one wall, and against another was an old carousel horse painted green and red. Opposite her was a roll top desk in the first stage of being stripped. A dining room chair with a caned seat leaned against the desk. Rock music continued to blare from the other room.
He stood above her. His hair was wet, and the shoulders and arms of his denim jacket as well. Under it he wore a red polo shirt, and when he moved the jacket flapped back exposing a worn alligator, a hole near his tail. The knife was in his right hand, a cigarette in the other.
'You don't know who I am, do you?' he asked, annoyed.
Annie stared at him, uncomprehending. 'Of course I do. You're Jim Drew.'
He smiled, his lips turning downward. 'No, I mean who I really am.'
Was he one of these people who believed he was Christ or Napoleon or maybe a being from another planet? Whoever he thought he was, she must be careful not to offend; try to convince him that she believed him. 'Why don't you tell me who you really are?'
'Take a guess.' He ran a hand over his scraggly black beard, bringing the ragged edges to a momentary point before the wiry hairs sprang back into disarray.
'It's hard to think tied up like this.'
He laughed harshly and turned away from her.
'Where are you going?' she asked, panicky.
Drew picked up the cane chair, placed it in front of her backwards and sat down. Leaning his arms on the top of the frame, one hand gripping the knife, he said, 'If you think I'm gonna untie you, you've got another think coming.'
'My wrists hurt.'
He frowned, thick black brows coming together, forming one line. 'Fire hurts worse.'
'What do you mean?' He still hadn't told her what his reference to the Razzamatazz fire meant.
'Next week's the anniversary. Twenty-five years.'
'You mean twenty-five years since the Razzamatazz fire?'
'Boy, you're real smart,' he said sarcastically. Then, switching gears, said, 'How come you became a preacher?'
'It was just something I wanted to do.' She couldn't help thinking how strange life was. If she hadn't become a minister she probably would never have returned to Seaville, and now her life wouldn't be hanging in the balance.
'I thought you'd be a teacher.'
'What do you mean, you thought?'
He laughed again. 'Guess.'
