The Demon Within Page 5

  “Where was the injured security officer?”

  “He was in the trailer, sitting behind the desk with his right leg up on the desk.”

  “What did he tell you?” Finn asked.

  “He said that at 8PM he left the trailer to perform his hourly patrol around the site. He said that as he hit the first cinder block step, it dislodged and he fell to the ground.”

  “What did he say about his injuries?”

  Mike shrugged. “He said he originally thought he just mildly twisted his right ankle, and that he continued with his patrol. He said that when he got back to the trailer, the pain got progressively worse and that his ankle was throbbing, so he called his supervisor who in turn called me. When the security supervisor got here, Johnson left the site and I never heard from him after that.”

  Finn stopped making notes momentarily. “So, he was able to leave under his own power?”

  “Yeah,” Mike nodded. “He had a little trouble negotiating the steps with the crutches, but he made it alright.”

  Finn began another line of questioning on a fresh page in his notebook. “So, what happened when…..” he stopped abruptly and stared at Mike Barnes. “What crutches?” he asked.

  “His crutches,” Mike responded in a matter of fact fashion.

  “He had crutches?” Finn repeated.

  “Yeah, that’s what I said,” Mike confirmed.

  Finn looked away for a moment and then back to Mike. “Why would he have crutches with him?”

  Finn could almost see the lightbulb illuminate over Mike Barnes head. “Hey, I never thought about it,” he exclaimed. “He did have crutches with him before he was injured. That’s strange, isn’t it.”

  “I would say so,” Finn nodded. “It seems like maybe our friend Johnson hurt his ankle somewhere else, dragged himself to work on a Sunday when no one was around, and then tried to claim it happened on the construction site.” Finn shook his head and snickered. “He was so greedy that he sat there for two full shifts before reporting it so he would get all his overtime pay for the day.”

  Finn departed the construction site with his chest puffed out with pride. Not only was he carrying a beautifully written statement in his bag, but that statement provided strong evidence of insurance fraud via a staged accident. Finn found it ironic. Months ago, his name had been on the front page of every newspaper when he cracked his big missing person case and saved Chelsea Garland, but today, for the first time, he was really beginning to feel like a private investigator.

  Chapter 5: The Dark Path

  April 30th

  “Investigations, how may I help you?” Finn had tested several greetings over the months, but ultimately settled on the very simple, yet professional salutation.

  “Finn Delaney?”

  “Yes, who’s calling?”

  “Ben Rothchild, how have you been, Finn?”

  Finn was instantly nervous. Ben Rothchild was the source of his first real case. He had solved the case of the mysterious voices and noises Ben’s mother was hearing in her apartment at night by discovering that the sounds were emanating from the subway and working their way up to her apartment through the HVAC ducts. What ingratiated Finn most to Ben was the fact that even though Ben’s mother wanted Finn to continue to check other sinister causes of the noise, he didn’t want to take further money to continue a fruitless investigation. It was later that Ben referred Finn to Susan Garland and began his quest to find her missing daughter, Chelsea, a case that garnered Finn his fifteen minutes of fame and almost got him killed. So, it was with some understandable apprehension that Finn asked Ben Rothchild what he could do for him.

  “It’s not me who needs your help,” Ben stated. “It’s a friend of mine named Nancy Mills.”

  Finn tensed as if preparing for a punch in the stomach. “What does she need, Ben?”

  Ben Rothchild, who never seemed to be at a loss for words, seemed to be searching for the right way to communicate his message to Finn. “Well, I’m sure you remember a couple of years ago the murders in that park in Queens. They called them the Demon Murders – or something like that.”

  “Sure, I remember.” Finn already did not like the direction the conversation was going.

  “Nancy’s boy Charlie was convicted of those murders.”

  “Let me stop you right there.” Finn wanted to end this before it started. “There’s absolutely nothing I can do with that case. From what I remember, the police caught the kid in possession of the knife with blood all over him. He admitted to being in the woods with the victims and said they were conducting some occult ritual when demons came and killed his friends. He all but confessed to the killings. Besides, the kid has already been in jail for two years. What am I supposed to do now?”

  “I hear you Finn,” Ben agreed. “It’s just that Nancy found something or learned something that she said could prove Charlie’s innocence.

  “What did she find?”

  “She wouldn’t tell me.”

  “Why doesn’t she go to the police?”

  “She did. They’re not interested.”

  Finn chuckled. “This must be some great new evidence.”

  “I know this will probably lead nowhere,” Ben said. “But Nancy is desperate. I always knew Charlie to be a good kid. He was slow and very susceptible to suggestion, but I don’t think he could be talked into butchering three people.”

  Finn wanted to cut to the chase. “What do you want me to do, Ben?”

  “Just call Nancy and talk to her. If you think there is nothing you can do after you talk to her – tell her so. I will still be grateful.”

  Finn sighed. “OK, I’ll call her.”

  “Thanks Finn. You’re the best.” Ben snickered a bit. “Who knows, maybe this case will add to your fame. I’ll text you Nancy’s info.”

  “That just what I need Ben – more fame.” Finn disconnected the call and rubbed his right temple with three fingers. He had a bad feeling about what he was getting into.

  May 1st

  When the light turned green Finn crossed Roosevelt Avenue and entered the heart of Jackson Heights. The historic Queens neighborhood was less than five miles from Finn's Middle Village home, but he found the atmosphere very different. The streets that were once a sleek new tarmac were now greyed by the bleaching of the sun. The road was a monochrome patchwork, each one lined with a shiny border of tar. Despite these fixes there were still cracks and the potholes grew larger with each passing year. The trees that were once fine and healthy were now gnarled and embittered, growing tall but without strength, competing unnaturally against the towering apartment buildings they were planted too close to.

  Finn parked in front of Hampton Court, one of the oldest garden apartments in Jackson Heights. Finn had to walk the length of 78th Street because he did not realize Hampton Court consisted of eleven identical five story red brick facade buildings. He knew it wasn't professional, but he called to get clarification from Nancy Mills as to the specific location of her apartment.

  "Come in Mr. Delaney, I'm glad you found me."

  "I'm glad too, Ms. Mills." Finn wasn't sure if Nancy was being sarcastic

  Nancy directed Finn into the finely furnished living room apropos for a historic building. "Can I get you something to drink?"

  Finn settled into the very soft sofa. "Nothing for me, thank you."

  Nancy sat on the piano bench opposite the sofa. "Ben Rothchild tells me you were very helpful to a friend of his. I read about you in the papers."

  Finn did not want to beat around the bush. "Look, Ms. Mills, I know all about the details of the murders. I know how difficult this must be for you, so why don’t you spare me the background of the case and just get to the reason why you think I can help you."

  Nancy chuckled uncomfortably. "You want me to get right to the point - OK then."

  Nancy walked to the window and focused on the blue sky while clearing her throat. “Charlie was always different. I knew it, but I wouldn’t a
ccept it. I wanted him to fit in. I wanted desperately for my square peg to somehow wedge into that round hole.” She turned to face Finn. “Mild Intellectual Disability they called it. His IQ was 68 and he was slower than normal in all developmental areas, but he looked normal and was able to learn practical life skills. Charlie needed all kinds of help, but I was satisfied with the fact that he was able to blend in socially and accomplish the basic functions of daily life”

  Finn fidgeted on the sofa. “I’m very sorry for how things turned out for your son, ma’am, but I still don’t understand how I can help you.”

  Nancy returned to the piano bench. “Please, Mr. Delaney, let me finish venting my guilt and then you’ll see my point.”

  “Fair enough,” Finn nodded.

  “It was easy enough keeping tabs on Charlie when he was a little boy. He didn’t stand out as being different so much, and I could keep a close eye on him, like I did for all my children when they were growing up.”

  “You have other children?” Finn asked.

  “Another son and daughter. Both have their own families and live out of state.” Nancy studied Finn’s face. “You seem surprised, Mr. Delaney.”

  Finn shrugged.

  “Charlie is twelve and fourteen years younger than my other two children. I suppose he would be called a late in life child. If I were going to be brutally honest, I would call him what he was – an accident.” Nancy’s eyes were moist. “But I loved this accident as much as my other children and so did my husband. Charlie was ten when my husband died and he was devastated. His father was his whole world.”

  “How did Mr. Mills pass?”

  “An accident at work. He worked as a signal maintainer for the Transit Authority and he was electrocuted when he accidentally came in contact with the electrified third rail on the subway train tracks.”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am.”

  “Thanks,” Nancy nodded and took a deep breath. And let’s put an end to the ma’am business. My name is Nancy.”

  Finn smiled. “OK, Nancy, and I’m Finn.”

  “Well, Finn, I’m almost done with my guilt trip. When Charlie became a teenager, he wanted to have friends that he fit in with, but it was painfully obvious that he would not fit in at his regular high school. I still closed my eyes and thought he’d be better off with these so-called regular kids.”

  “And he wasn’t?” Finn asked.

  “All Charlie got from his regular high school was a regular dose of bullying and tormenting.”

  “How long did you leave him in school?”

  Nancy looked surprised. “How long? Until he graduated, of course. That’s right, Finn, even an intellectually disabled child like my Charlie was pushed right through the New York City school system and graduated high school with the rest of the so-called normal kids.”

  “What happened after he graduated?”

  Nancy pressed her hands together symbolic of prayer. “I actually thought my prayers were being answered. Charlie’s uncle got him a job with a moving company in Brooklyn. Charlie was strong and eager and moving furniture around seemed to be the ideal job for him.”

  “Was it?” Finn inquired.

  “Charlie loved it. I actually started to believe Charlie’s story was going to have a happy ending.”

  “What happened?”

  “Charlie still needed friends. He started hanging out with a couple of the guys on his work crew.”

  “I guess you didn’t like them,” Finn commented.

  “Believe me, I wanted to like anyone Charlie would have as a friend, but you can only keep your head buried in the sand so long, and for me, my head was buried too long.”

  “What were these friends like?”

  “There was one in particular named Andre, but for some reason they called him Drago. He was just a bit older than Charlie, but he was a scary looking guy. He came over here a couple of times and I found it very unsettling to be in the room with him.”

  “Why?”

  Nancy looked down to the floor. “I know this is going to make me seem like I’m the one who needs psychiatric help, but Drago looked just like the devil.”

  “Really?” Finn again fidgeted on the sofa.

  Nancy held up both hands. “Don’t worry, Finn, I’m not nuts. The guy just looked evil, and Charlie would tell me about the things they did together.”

  “Like what?”

  “Charlie was always talking about how they would chant and sing songs and try to get people called demons to appear. Charlie thought it was all great fun.”

  “Did you do anything?”

  Nancy shrugged, her eyes moist again. “What could I do? My son had friends and was having a good time. Was I supposed to take that away from him?”

  Finn leaned forward. “You still haven’t told me how I…..”

  Nancy cut Finn off. “A mother knows her son. Charlie is a gentle soul who is incapable of hurting anyone.” Finn looked away as Nancy continued. “I see the look on your face, Finn, but you just have to trust me when I tell you that Charlie is incapable of lying.”

  Finn didn’t like doing this, but he felt he had no choice. “So, you believe Charlie when he said a demon flew into those woods and killed those men?’”

  Nancy sighed. “I don’t know what happened in those woods, but I know Charlie did not butcher three people – he couldn’t do it!”

  Finn extended his arms. “How am I going to prove he didn’t do it?”

  “Wait one moment.” Nancy disappeared into the adjacent room and returned holding a small card. “The police tore Charlie’s room apart. They took everything. A couple of weeks ago, however, I found this in the bottom of my purse.”

  Nancy extended the card to Finn. There was blue ink writing on it: Milk – Bread – Eggs – Corn.

  Finn held the card in the air. “It’s a shopping list – so what?”

  “Turn the card over,” Nancy directed.

  Finn’s eyes widened. Apparently, the groceries were scribbled on the back of a business card. Finn was now looking at the printing on the front – CHURCH OF SATAN – NYC

  Finn shrugged and offered the card back to Nancy. “I’ll admit it’s a business card you don’t see every day, but I still don’t see your point.”

  Nancy seemed a bit annoyed for the first time. “I would think a private investigator would recognize a potential lead.”

  Finn returned the tone. “Yeah, if there was a lead to recognize.”

  Nancy’s tone immediately changed to conciliatory. “Look, Finn, I know I may be grasping for straws, but I think there’s something to uncover here. Charlie’s claim about the demons, and now I find this card. I certainly didn’t bring it into the house, so Charlie or one of his friends must have had it.”

  Finn finished Nancy’s thought. “And you think this Church of Satan may be involved somehow with the murders.”

  Nancy went back to the window and then turned to face Finn. “It’s all I have. I always vowed that I would leave no stone unturned, and now I finally have a stone to turn over. Will you turn this stone for me, Finn?”

  “I’ll do what I can.” Finn wanted to slap himself in the head. He came here to humor a friend of Ben Rothchild, but suddenly – he was all in.

  “Thank you so much. This means a lot to me that I’m trying to do something to help Charlie.”

  Finn sounded a note of caution. “Just don’t get your hopes up.”

  “I won’t,” Nancy responded. “What do you need from me?”

  Finn stroked his chin. “Well, I guess the first thing I’m going to need to do is talk to Charlie. Can you arrange that?”

  May 2nd

  Finn sat at the curb with the engine idling. The sky was overcast, but the forecast did not call for rain. He hoped the weather was similar seventy miles to the north. Nancy Mills emerged from the entrance door to the Hampton Court. Finn studied her as she walked down the decaying ornate brick walkway. She was a petite woman with a very complicated look. Finn estimated t
hat Nancy was around sixty years old, but she was one of those people who never seemed to lose the youthful appearance. The complexity lay in the toll her son’s incarceration was taking on her. The stress of the last two years had eaten away at that youthful looking face, transforming the sixty-year old into something closer to a seventy- year old. Still, she never lost that youthful twinkle in her eye as she opened the passenger door of the Camry.

  “Good morning, Finn. How are you today?”

  “I’m good, Nancy.”

  Nancy put the bag she was carrying in the backseat, settled into the passenger seat and secured the seatbelt. “I have to confess something Finn.”

  “What’s that?” Finn asked.

  “Even if nothing comes from your meeting with Charlie, at least this was a huge help to me. It takes me around three hours to get to the hospital by bus.”

  “Wow!” Finn declared. “Even with bad traffic I figure it should take us no more than an hour and a half.”

  The drive overt the RFK Bridge and through the Bronx was a mixture of social small talk and periods of silence. It was on the Tappan Zee Bridge that Nancy began to open up about the case.

  “It’s hard to believe it’s been two years,” she began. “Everything is a blur to me now, especially those early months. Charlie was arrested for the murders and had nothing more than the story of the demons committing the crime. I had no money for a lawyer, so a public defender was assigned. That guy pounded his chest and declared what a big victory he had won in getting Charlie found not guilty by reason of insanity. I bought into his mantra, but in the back of my mind I was always asking why couldn’t Charlie be found not guilty by reason that he didn’t do it.”

  Finn didn’t want to question her son’s innocence, but he couldn’t help himself. “You have to admit, Nancy, a defense that demons committed the murders isn’t much of a defense.”

  “I don’t expect you to understand this, Finn,” Nancy continued. “If me or you were out in those woods committing murder, we wouldn’t blame it on demons because we know the story is ridiculous and no one would believe us. We would come up with some other story that at least made some sense. Charlie’s mind doesn’t work that way. There is only one possible way Charlie could have come up with the story about the demons.”