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Ian would never know if he was getting strange phone calls in the middle of the night anymore. For the past month the phone had been off the hook from ten at night until seven in the morning, and so far his plan had worked. No silent calls from beyond, no disturbed nights, no forbearers of death.
It should have calmed him, but it didn't. In place of the phone calls, he dreamed of her. She stood in the dark, her face the picture of perfect sorrow. Somewhere beyond, he could hear a child's voice, crying "Mommy, Mommy!". Then his mind's eye would turn to see young Daniel, standing there alone and helpless, searching for his mother. And when Daniel finally saw Wilhemina in the dark, he was unable to get to her as if he couldn't move.
In the back of Ian's mind, he was starting to feel more than a little responsible for tearing the mother from the son. And he waited, and dreaded, what was to come next.
Today, however, was Saturday, and he had a pleasant distraction from the horrors his work sometimes brought him. It was the elementary school picnic down at the lake, and there he planned to enjoy the day with his girlfriend of nearly a year, Miss June Simmons, one of the teachers of the school. She promised him it would lift his spirits, if only for a few hours, and he had hoped that it would too. Anything to take his mind off the madness that was the dear departed Wilhemina Morecroft.
Half way into the day he was glad that he had come. June looked radiant, as usual, and her students seemed interested enough in what he did for a living to ask him questions about working at the local paper. They even asked if they could visit one day, which June told them she would think about, complete with a wink to Ian.
"Thanks for telling me to come, June. It's helped me get my mind off ... things." Ian said, as they sat at the edge of the lake with their lunch, a moments peace from the children at last.
"I worry about you, Ian. You've been looking so tired and worn out the last couple of months. Can't you let someone else ..."
"Do my job?" he smiled. "This is what I do, June. I can't just get someone else to write about what's happening in town, or what else would I do? Sit around and stare at a blank typewriter all day? I'd be out of a job quicker than I could blink."
June sighed. "I know, I'm sorry, it was really silly of me to suggest that. But really, isn't there something else you can write about?"
"Well, sure, but I'm not the one who makes those decisions. I can't just decide I want to cover the local sports and then just go ahead and do it. It's up to Bob what he thinks I'm best at, and he thinks I'm best at general news and ..."
"And anything to do with Wicked Willie."
It was Ian's turn to sigh now. What could he say? That he felt a certain responsibility to write about anything that had anything remotely to do with Wilhemina? And even if he didn't, Bob O'Leary his editor surely did, and there was no way of getting out of it, unless he quit his job. And as stressed as he was right now, he wasn't about to do that. Not yet anyway. But none of it was worth wasting breath on. The best thing to do right now was ride it out and see what happened. It might be all over, and no more of these coincidental deaths would happen, and maybe life would get back to normal.
But that wasn't going to happen just yet.
A scream shattered the serenity.
Something was wrong at the other end of the lake. Children were crying and being led away by their panicked mothers, other woman were running for help while all the men were already at the water's edge, and some had jumped in fully clothed.
Ian and June jumped up and ran over to the scene. They pushed past the many who stood dumbfounded, and when they met the waters edge they saw two men dragging back a limp body. The crowd made space for the drowned man on the shoreline as Miss Jenkins, the school nurse, rushed over to him and checked his heart beat. Dr Wood, who had been at the picnic with his grandson, joined Miss Jenkins over the body and together they tried to resuscitate him.
"Somebody call an ambulance!" Dr Wood cried between fevered breaths, but with every thump on the man's chest and every breath into his mouth, it became more and more apparent that the man was dead.
Ian stepped forward out of the crowd stared down at the lifeless body. When he saw who it was, the blood drained from his face and his heart seemed to skip a beat. June grabbed his arm.
"Ian what is it?"
"It's Mr. Cody," the words came out of his mouth in a flat and eerie tone,
"The chemist who sold Mrs Morecroft the heart stimulant drugs she killed her husband with, then testified against her in court."
Wilhemina had taken victim number four.
© Cynthia M. Piromalli 2003
©2003 StoriesByEmail.com
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