Carter, she called, being in the kitchen, the sink is clogged.
Carefully monitoring the numbers popping up on the screen and their presence on the tickets, Carter answered without looking up from the tickets:
Five minutes.
Honey, the dishes have been waiting since dinner.
Completely immersed in the game, Carter did not really hear his wifes words and muttered:
Yes, sure.
There was a short pause between the spouses.
Carter Giselle called, but there was no response from Carter.
Then Giselle said:
OK. Until he loses, its useless. Then she turned to Ines: Ill go to the workroom. When the lottery ends, remind him about the sink.
Okay Ines answered.
Giselle was a professional painter, for which, after her marriage, Saul allocated for her one of the largest rooms in their three-story house, where she set up a workshop. Fifty-seven paintings that came out from under her hand left the walls of this house. Some were bought by private art connoisseurs; some paintings travel to various exhibitions. Six years ago, Giselle was first invited to an exhibition in San Francisco, where she was offered to exhibit her work. That day, to congratulate his wife, Carter went to a jewelry store and simply bought the most expensive ring, because he did not understand anything about the quality of jewelry, but saw only one criterion for determining the value of jewelry. Two years later, Giselle visited Los Angeles and New York. Another six months passed and she received an offer from Rome. After visiting Europe, she received an order for two dozen paintings from a private gallery. Giselle was already finishing work on the eighteenth canvas and was planning to go to Paris next year, and she was especially looking forward to this trip because she had made Carter promise that he would fly with her.
Ines was seventeen years old. She, and twelve-year-old Rebecca, were youthful versions of their mother, except that they did not have as thick eyelashes. For days on end she studied the works of Freud, Jung, Fromm, Le Bon and Bekhterev, preparing to enter the psych department at Princeton. Since childhood, Ines had an unhealthy interest in observing people, studying their manners, voices, gestures, facial expressions, and she was especially interested in how different people react to the same external stimuli. For her, a person has always been a certain object of research and an experimental sample, from whose behavior certain conclusions can be drawn. Ines was especially interested in cold reading based on a scientific basis. When meeting a new person, each time she tries to assess the persons appearance as quickly as possible and from this make a description of the psychological portrait, so that later, as the acquaintance develops, she can compare her primary conclusions with verified facts.
Giselle had already climbed the stairs to the workshop, which was located on the third floor. As soon as she was out of sight, Ines immediately came up behind the chair in which Carter was sitting, leaned over, touching her fathers shoulder with her falling brown hair, and asked in a soft voice:
Dad, can you clean the sink?
Now, sweetie. Im almost there.
Ines leaned even lower, hugged Carters neck with both hands, pressed her cheek to his and said:
Please. Ill play for you.
Sitting in another chair, which was a couple of meters away, Saul looked at his granddaughter from under his brows and said:
Ines, its better for you not to start. God forbid you get hooked. Your father and I have suffered from gambling addiction all our lives. Cards, checkers, backgammon, chess, racing are our curse. Hands are reaching out to put something on something.
Carter added:
Our happiness is that we are father and son. Otherwise, one of us would have been bankrupt a long time ago.
All three of them laughed, looking at each other.
Well, I must inherit something from my dad said Ines, which caused Saul to laugh out loud, and Carter proudly said:
Thats my girl.
After a couple of seconds, another number appeared on the screen. Carter looked at the ticket and realized that he would not have time to cover all the numbers.
Damn it he said and got up from his chair, going to the basement to get some tools.
Ines approached Saul, kneeling down and folding her hands on the armrest. She asked, looking at the ticket:
Grandpa, what do you have?
Staring tensely at the screen through half-closed glasses, Saul replied, maintaining his concentration:
Lets see.
The number flashed on the screen and Saul shouted:
We won!
Ines hugged her grandfather tightly and kissed his bearded cheek. Without getting up from his chair, Saul hugged his granddaughter to him with both arms and added:
Three hundred fourteen dollars. God, its been a while since I hit such a jackpot. Then he handed the ticket to Ines and said: Here, my dear. Share with Rebecca.
Then, hearing footsteps coming from the direction of the stairs, Saul turned half sideways and shouted:
Carter!?
Carter appeared in the hall with a set of tools.
Yes?
Youre a loser.
Opening his arms, Carter said sarcastically:
Thank you, dad. Comforted.
12. Attention! Smoking kills!
Fourteen years old is, perhaps, not yet the age when you can take such a skeleton as cigarettes out of the closet in front of your parents. Despite the fact that classmates Gordon and Quentin tried to hide and smoke without prying eyes, they nevertheless held a cigarette quite professionally. They tried all types of tobacco products: strong, weak, filtered, unfiltered, Marlboro, Camel, Winston, Bond Street. At the initial stage, when preferences have not yet formed, you try the entire range. But as the lungs gain experience, a completely conscious choice arises. For Quentin and Gordon, the choice fell on Marlboro.
They were motivated to become intimately familiar with tobacco smoke by Nicolas Cage in the film Wild at Heart. To be more precise, it was a scene in which he and Laura Dern tear up the dance floor, with Cage, drugged up, boxing the air in front of him, then doing some vigorous kicking. But what was most memorable was how effectively Nicolas Cage got rid of his cigarette before cleaning the face of a stranger who was pestering his girlfriend. These were the shots that predetermined Quentin and Gordons passion for cigarettes.
It was a day off, but not for a tobacco get-together. They usually did this after school, but on weekends and vacations they gathered in a variety of places. However, the diversity was not due to their desire to somehow dilute the scenery, but simply due to the fact that in most places someone was constantly looming: either some young mother with a stroller, or two hags who would find a place to wash the bones of everyone in the area, or young punks will gather on the playground, or lovers of a healthy lifestyle will set up a running track. So they had to rush around all sorts of nooks and crannies. This time fate turned out to be more favorable to Gordon and Quentin and there was no one in central park. But it would be strange to meet someone in the park at half past ten in the evening who would like to get some fresh air. The teenagers walked deeper into the park and, once again making sure that there was no one nearby, began to light up. They took a drag on their cigarettes and continued walking, moving towards the playground.
Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh Gordon said with a face as if he had experienced ecstasy, exhaling tobacco smoke. No, its impossible without this. Dude, how are we going to get off this? he asked, looking at Quentin walking next to him.
Who is forcing you to quit?
Dude, if my father finds out, hell rip my head off, and before that hell force me to quit smoking.
Oh, well, yes answered Quentin. Well, heres an incentive for you to try not to get caught. Exercise caution.
Gordon took a long drag and even before exhaling said:
Why should everything that is addictive be prohibited?
Everyone thinks that this is supposedly harmful to health.
Why then was it necessary to invent? All the most stupid things are allowed, but all the things without which you begin to experience withdrawal are immediately banned. Damn, no logic. Why are there no harmless drugs?
Exhaling smoke, Quentin replied:
Who said that they dont exist?
For example?
Hmm Quentin grinned indignantly, and then added: Sex. What is it not a drug? True, without safety precautions there are consequences.
Dude, thats what Im talking about! To hell with cigarettes and alcohol. People came up with them on their own. But SEX! Where a person is not involved at all, nature itself punishes with syphilis, herpes, or paternity.
You speak the truth answered Quentin, looking at the tree crowns dissolving in the darkness.
They approached the balance swing.
There are pitfalls everywhere in this life Gordon stated.
Hey, what is this? Quentin said in a muffled voice.
Where? Gordon asked, narrowing his eyes.
Quentin stuck out his index finger, pointed into the darkness and said:
Over there.
Without sitting on the balance swing, the friends walked a little further to the beam carousel. With each step the darkness became less dense, and the picture became more clear. They came close and took a better look. Quentin put his hand on it, shook it slightly and said:
Hey beautiful? Wake up.
A few seconds later, Quentin was already tugging at her shoulder, but there was no reaction.
Quentin? Gordon said like a paralyzed man. Having received no answer, he repeated without looking away: Quentin?
What?
Check your pulse.
Hearing about this, Quentin seemed to be overwhelmed and uneasy.
That evening Father Benetti stayed at Bernard Hughess house. It was common practice for him to occasionally visit homes where a family had suffered a loss. And in every home Leonardo Benetti became a welcome guest, especially in such difficult days. Martha topped up the tea every time the cup was empty, as bartenders do with alcohol, so that a client does not slow down. She didnt want the priest to leave. His presence softened the mental pain and Father Benetti understood this, but he also could not sit endlessly.
The next morning, a funeral ceremony for Gloria Nelson was to be held and it was necessary to get some sleep, although such a series of unnatural deaths plunged the priest into the blues, which resulted in insomnia. At the same time, the craving for sleep arose unexpectedly and several times a day. Against this background, the padre sharply increased the dose of coffee he consumed, which he now drank every five to six hours. And all of this in total was already beginning to affect him.
Before leaving the Hughes family home, he asked for a cup of coffee when he felt sleepy again. It is possible that thanks to this, the priest noticed in time a boy who had jumped out onto the road, waving his arms above his head and shouting something. The figure of a teenager suddenly appeared in front of the cars headlights and the padre managed to brake. He jumped out of the car in a hurry and didnt even have time to utter a sound when the boy began to shout through his ragged breath:
Fa Father Benetti! Help!
What? Whats happened?
Th There Gordon was breathing deeply and couldnt really say anything coherent. He simply pointed his finger towards the park and called for the priest. Father Benetti put his hand on the boys shoulder and said:
Lets go to.
From Gordons appearance, he understood that it was easier to follow him than to wait until he calmed down and the ability to formulate thoughts returned to him.
Two minutes later they found themselves on the playground, where Quentin was squatting, hidden behind a tree, looking fearfully out of the corner of his eye towards the beam carousel. Gordon never managed to bring him to his senses enough to force him to go with him. Father Benetti came up to him, sat down and, placing one hand on Quentins shoulder, said:
Look at me. Hey. Can you hear me?
Father Benetti Gordon said twitchingly, taking the priest by the hand. Its there. Come on.
Gordon led the priest through the darkness, which was thickening literally every minute and it was already possible to navigate only by faintly visible dimensions. Gordon felt the frame of the swing with his hand and said:
Here. She is here.
Father Benetti took a lighter from his pocket, which he always kept with him in case he needed to light a candle, and lit it in front of him. The corpse of Ursula Minton appeared before him. She was lying on her back between the handrails, and her legs were hanging from the centrifuge. Her braided hair fanned out around her head, which was tilted to the right side. Her skin color still retained a slight shade of pink, but her body had already cooled down. The priest put his hand to his lips, which began to tremble. This picture threw him off balance as quickly as it did the two teenagers.
A minute later, Father Benetti pulled himself together, took a handful of coins from his pocket, handed Gordon a few pieces and said:
Run, call the sheriff.
Im quick as if Gordon had snapped and ran at full speed towards the payphone.
Fourteen and a half minutes later, the squeal of rubber rubbing was heard as the sheriffs car pulled up near the park. Next came Jenna and forensic scientist Larry Greene. A van has already been sent from the morgue.
Desmond ran up to the beam carousel with the flashlight on and asked:
Padre, you didnt touch anything?
The priest moved his lips silently for a while, but then he shook his head and answered:
No-no. I I just sent the boy to call you at the office, and I stayed here.
Fine.
After a short silence, Father Benetti said with a trembling voice:
What is it? God, shes still a child.
Jenna came up to him and took him to the nearest bench, sitting down next to him. She stroked Benettis sobbing father on the shoulder, trying to calm him down just as he had recently helped her find peace of mind.
13. Chance, coincidence, pattern and fate
Some kind of bastard has started up in my town! Desmond shouted in a dissatisfied voice immediately, as soon as he and Jenna crossed the threshold of the office.
Harry, who was on duty that night, immediately perked up, listening carefully to the sheriffs voice.
When did this happen!? What kind of scum do you have to be to do something like that!
In the dead of night Desmond, Jenna and Harry speculated about what the killers motives, if any, were. All four victims were in no way related to each other. In all cases there are no injuries that would be identical in nature. It looked as if the murders were committed by different people, and some could even be considered an accident. In a deductive sense, it was complete chaos.
The sheriff doubted that any of the locals had done this, so he ordered Jenna and Harry to call the only hotel in Heartstone and three motels. He was sure that this was the work of one of the visitors.
Telephone conversations with the administrators of the inns ended in nothing. No one stayed in any of the motels or the hotel for more than one day. Having written down all the names of the guests over the past five days, Harry and Jenna did not find a single repeated name, as if a maniac had decided to change inns so that he would not be identified.