1
1966 Thomas Engelhart sat on chair in front of Lt.
Taylor's desk, waiting for him to speak.
All he really wanted to do was get back to his children, who were being
watched by another police officer at the moment.
"Mr. Engelhart, I'm
having trouble coming to any real conclusions as to what exactly happened at your farm last
night. No one seems to know anything
other than what you have already told me."
"I haven't withheld
anything from you Lieutenant, if that's what you're asking," replied
Thomas.
"I believe you, Mr.
Engelhart. That's what's awkward for
me. I really do believe you." To Thomas, he actually sounded like he meant
it.
"Two and two aren't
exactly equaling four right now, Mr. Engelhart. Can I call you Thomas?"
"Please."
"And of course there
are the tests that Fichtler needs to run yet.
But I just have this gut feeling that they aren't going to show me much
either."
Thomas waited for the other
foot to drop, saying nothing, knowing that the lieutenant was heading in some
particular direction.
"Thomas, what can you
tell me about Edward?"
"What would you like to
know?" answered Thomas, not at all surprised that the question had been
asked. Lt. Taylor didn't seem to be
lacking in the brains department, and he obviously wasn't blind either.
"He seems to be a
different sort of boy. Not at all affected
by the death of Miss Neumann. I take it
that they weren't close?"
"That's true enough, I
guess."
"You guess,
Thomas?"
"Look Lt. Taylor . .
."
"Bill, please call me
Bill."
"Look Bill, it's like
this," Thomas was definitely at the end of his rope. "I got a farm to run. It might not be much, but it's all I got to
keep this family's head above water. It
takes all of my time, that's why Louise was there. I can't even remember their birthdays, well, except for Edward's
of course. That would be the day that
Edwina died. But Louise handled all of
the household bullshit. Unfortunately,
that basically included raising the children."
"I see," replied
Taylor.
"Do you? Do you really see? Do you have any children of your own, Bill?"
"No."
"Kids today are
different. You can't just give them a
list of chores and the threat of a good whuppin' and turn them loose to go
about being little angels. Their heads
are full of all kinds of things that they see and hear on television, and I
wouldn't bet a nickel on the prospect of any one of them becoming
farmers. They're just different than
you or I was when we were at that age."
"That's true
enough. I know that just from the
things I see around the station," said Taylor.
"So what do you want me
to tell you?"
"Edward seems a little
more different than the others. Has he
ever shown any signs of violence, or unruliness towards Louise or any other
member of your family?"
"You think Edward had
anything to do with this?" asked Thomas, wondering the same thing himself
but being to close to the situation to admit it.
"Do you,
Thomas?"
There was a short pause as
Thomas considered what he would say in return.
He felt some kind of loyalty to his own child, but he was too tired and
stressed out to fabricate anything plausible.
"Bill, with God as my
witness, I really don't know."
"Thanks Thomas, I
believe you more than ever. I have to
ask you and your family not to go anywhere too far until this is settled, you
understand don't you?"
"Of course," said
Thomas.
"I'll give you a ride
back home now. You've got a good couple
of kids there in Jonathan and Janice, and Thomas…"
"Yes?"
"Keep an eye on
Edward. Here's my card. Call me any time of day or night. I'll write my home phone on the back. I'm serious Thomas, anytime."
"Thank-you," said
Thomas. They stood and exchanged handshakes,
and then headed out of the small office.
No one spoke much on the
ride back to the farm; even Eddie had remained quiet, still sitting in the
front seat. Thomas wondered what Lt.
Taylor and Edward had talked about during their time alone together in his
office, they had been in there longer than the rest of the children. It obviously hadn't made them any closer.
Taylor pulled up to the
Engelhart place, and watched as everyone got out. He called to Thomas, who had already started walking towards the
house.
"Jonathan, here's the
keys. You go on inside and wait for me
in the front room. I don't want anyone
going upstairs until I've had a chance to go through the house. I'll be right in."
"Okay Dad."
"Thanks Jonathan,"
said Thomas, as he turned back towards Taylor's sedan.
"I really need to get
inside Lieutenant."
"I know, just one more
thing. Your daughter seems to be
especially fearful of Edward. I just
thought you should know."
"Why didn't you say
anything earlier, when we were in your office?" asked Thomas.
"I guess I just wasn't
sure that I should. Children have
little on-going wars between themselves sometimes, and I'm sure that's
perfectly natural in most cases."
"I thought you said
that you didn't have any children, Mr. Taylor." Thomas realized he was on the defensive again, and it was back to
'Mr. Taylor'. Taylor noticed the same
thing.
"I had two sisters,
Thomas," replied the lieutenant, ignoring the change in status.
"So what are you
getting at?"
"Janice seems to really
have a deep rooted fear of Edward, and when we talked, you said that you really
didn't have much of a feel for what goes on in the house."
"So?"
"So I just want you to
be aware of that also. It's probably
nothing, but just the same, forewarned is forearmed."
"Sounds like some kind
of police motto," replied Thomas, just wanting to go inside and be done
with it all for one day.
"I'm sure it goes back
a lot farther than that Thomas. You try
and have a decent evening, and I'll get back to you as soon as anything changes,
for better or for worse. You still got
my card?"
"Goodnight Bill."
"Goodnight
Thomas."
Thomas watched as the car
drove out of the yard and down the access road to the main highway. He turned towards the house realizing that
he really didn't want to go
inside. But it was his lot in life, and
it stank, and he would.
He looked towards the sky,
but no answer came. He looked down at
his worn out work boots, and found himself on the verge of tears.
"What a fucking mess
you've left me in Edwina."
He started back towards the
house and picked up rock, which he threw with all his might at one of the cat's
on the end of the porch. He missed by a
good three feet, but it still sent the cat scurrying over the edge, giving
Thomas a small bit of satisfaction.
"Fucking cats. I need a drink." And up the stairs he went, still thinking
about what Lt. Taylor had said just before he left.
2
The children were all
sitting in the front room as instructed, Jonathan and Janice on the love seat,
and Edward sprawled out on the couch, looking at a magazine. Thomas was making his way towards the
staircase when he noticed that Edward had his feet on the sofa, a definite
taboo in the Engelhart household. He
stopped in his tracks.
"Edward Eugene
Engelhart!" he yelled, making the two older children jump in their seats,
but having little effect on Edward. He
slowly lowered the magazine he had been looking at and stared up at his father.
"Yes father," he replied, in a tone
of that would have made Mother Teresa become a child beater.
"Get your hoofs off the
furniture before I make you sit on the floor.
You know the rules of this house!" shouted Thomas.
"Okay, you don't have
to yell," returned Edward, sounding a little too much the smart mouth for
Thomas to tolerate at the moment, not that he would of on a good day.
"Now boy. I don't have the time or the patience for
this right now."
Thomas' voice was low and
carried the message that the other two children instantly recognized as the
five second warning. Edward slowly,
ever so slowly, placed his feet on the floor, not once looking up at his
father.
"Don't fuck with me son," said Thomas,
as Jonathan and Janice watched on, eyes beginning to dry out from neither one
of them blinking since the confrontation had started. They had never heard their father say the 'f word' in front of
them before.
"There off the couch,
okay?" said Edward, still sounding like the spoiled brat that had got
caught with his hand in the cookie jar but was trying to get to keep one of the
cookies.
"No, it's not okay. You can just march your ass off to your room right now. And I don't want to see your face again
until I come up and say it's okay,
and that means that you've had a big change in attitude."
You could have heard a pin
drop at that moment, even Thomas had stopped blinking. Finally Edward got up and headed for the
stairs. Although no one was about to
make a sound, inside everyone was heaving a sigh of relief as Edward started
climbing the stairs, including Thomas.
He turned towards the remaining children. His voice now warm and tender.
"I know that you two
have been through a lot today, me too.
Things are going to be a little rough around here for a while again, so
try and bear with me. What I really
need is some help around the house, starting with getting dinner made."
"I'm not really hungry,
Dad," said Jonathan, adding, "but I'll help make what ever you
want."
"Me either," said
Janice.
"Me either," said
Thomas. "Go on in and make a salad
up anyways, and if we change our minds we can have a sandwich too."
The children went off into the kitchen, seemingly glad to have
something to do.
Thomas went to the cabinet where
he kept his bottle of scotch, and grabbed one of the glasses out of the china
cabinet. They hadn't been used since
Easter and were coated with a fine layer of dust, but he poured two fingers
into one of them anyway, and drank it down in a single swallow. Then he poured another. And another. And another.
The booze was starting to
finally hit him, so he put the bottle back in its place. There was still too much of the day left,
and he still had to deal with Edward.
He looked into the kitchen and saw that the two older children were busy
at making dinner, talking quietly to each other. He decided to go out on the front porch and have a
cigarette. Perhaps the scotch would
settle in more and calm his ragged nerves, he thought to himself. God knows he needed something before he
dealt with Edward again. He was ready
to beat him as it was.
3
About an hour after stepping
out on the porch, Thomas decided he had cooled down enough to talk to
Edward. The other two children had
finished making the salad, but had politely opted to skip dinner, which he
agreed to. They had gone off to do the
evening chores, which left Thomas alone in the big farmhouse with nothing else
to do but confront Edward. He had tried
to figure out what he would say ahead of time, since there was so much more to
talk about than feet on the furniture.
But nothing had come to mind that he thought might work, except the
direct approach. He realized he really
didn't have any idea on how to deal with his own children. Especially Edward.
He walked up the stairs and
knocked on Edward's door. There was no
answer, so he let himself in. Edward
was asleep on top of his bed, looking as peaceful as could be. Thomas watched him there for several
minutes, suspecting that he might be faking it. But the breathing was steady and the eyelashes never once
fluttered, so he left the room.
This could be dealt with in
the morning, he thought to himself, glad for the reprieve. He walked back down the stairs to the china
cabinet, and started back in on the scotch.
He had finished off the bottle and buried it in the bottom of the trash
by the time the children came back from milking the cows and doing the other
evening chores.
Jonathan
had grabbed a sandwich, and then both he and Janice had gone into the front
room to watch television. Neither one
of them spoke much, which seemed natural enough to Thomas, as he too went into
the kitchen to make a sandwich. He
wondered just what in the hell he was going to do now, with no one to help him
with the kids and a bumper crop of corn just a couple of months away from being
harvested.
Then
he remembered that he hadn't even taken care of today, let alone the endless
tomorrows that would follow. The sandwich
could wait; he wasn't really hungry anyway.
He still needed to go up to Louise's room and look around. For what, he really didn't know, but he had
to at least check it out now that the body had been removed.
As he walked to the base of
the stairs, he could see that the kids were still watching television. The Monkees were on. Now there was a show he would never figure
out. He had only watched enough one
time to see that he had lost all touch with the 'younger generation' as they
called themselves. There was no
generation gap as far as he was concerned.
It was more like the Grand Canyon.
They just didn't have anything in common at all.
He walked up the stairs and
stopped at Louise's bedroom door. Whoever
had finished up there had at least the common courtesy to close the door. He opened the door, and flipped on the
light. It looked pretty much the same
as before, but the covers were messed up from them removing her body. There were spots where someone had evidently
dusted for fingerprints, mostly on the headboard and the end tables on each
side of the bed. He really doubted that
they would find anyone's prints up there but Louise's. He bent over the bed, and looked at the
large crack in the headboard that had so fascinated Fichtner. It obviously was new, he admitted, knowing
darn well that there hadn't been anything there when he had moved the furniture
up there himself a few years ago.
A few years ago, hah! More like a decade ago, he thought to
himself. Time was blowing by Thomas
like the topsoil he tilled every year.
He was growing older, his children were growing up, the world was
changing, and he was just plowing the fields, like his father had done before
him. Nothing short of a nuclear blast
was going to stop him from following in his father's footsteps it seemed,
unless maybe a murder on the homestead came along.
There was no way he could
buy into that. Sure, there were some things
unexplained, but he had walked his pastures and found cattle dead before, for
no known reason. Death was a part of
life. Especially on a farm, where you
raised animals just so you could kill them, and eat them, or better yet, sell
them. And Edward, he was acting
strange, but it didn't make him a murderer, did it? He's only ten years old for Pete's sake, and Louise must have
outweighed him by a hundred pounds.
Nothing made any sense, and Thomas began to believe that was just the
way God intended it to be.
4
As the next few days wore
on, things seemed to settle back down to almost normal. Or so it seemed to Thomas, who really didn't
have a clue what normal really was around the house. There were no more acts of defiance from Edward, who he had never
really talked to after that first night.
Everyone seemed to be chipping in around the house with making the meals
and doing the laundry, and he came to find out that Louise had been making them
do most of it anyway. That was good, as
it had only prepared them for the future, although a bit premature even by
Louise's timetable he was sure. He
developed a newfound respect for Louise, only to feel deep remorse for never
having given her enough credit before it was to late to do so.
Word had gotten out soon
enough amongst the few neighbors they had about Louise's death, and the
Columbus paper had said that the cause of death was still unknown, and under
investigation. There were no secrets in
Platte County, or anywhere else in the Midwest for that matter. That was enough to send the rumor mills into
full production, and before long, stories of Thomas and Louise's love affair
gone bad were floating around the county.
All of a sudden people were dropping by that Thomas hadn't seen in
years. Most of them brought some food
or something to disguise their true reason for being there, which was to
snoop, but a few of them were just real friends trying to help one of their
own.
Thomas knew which was which,
and dealt with them accordingly, when he wasn't out in the fields attending to
business. He never knew what to expect
when he drove the tractor back to the barn, but on day four after Louise's
death he was actually glad to see Lt. Taylor's sedan in the driveway. He didn't bother to put the tractor under
the shed, but instead drove it right up to where Bill Taylor was standing. He set the hand brake and shut off the
ignition.
"Mr. Taylor," he
said as the sound of the tractor died away, jumping down from the rig.
"I mean Bill, sorry
about that. What kind of news do you
have for me today? I hope it's good,
the gossip has been a little bit on the down side lately."
"I understand what you
mean, Thomas. It goes that way in a
case like this sometime," said Bill Taylor.
"I guess it's to be
expected. The papers haven't helped
much, but they're just reporting the facts as they see them I suppose."
"Well, those facts are
about to change, at least as far as the media goes," said Taylor.
"How's that?"
Thomas asked.
"Rudy finished his
tests."
"And…?"
"There's not enough
evidence to support a murder investigation at this time," Taylor said.
"I guess that's good
news, but what do you mean by 'at this time'?"
"The cause of death
based on the autopsy is a broken neck, self inflicted. There isn't enough evidence to prove
otherwise."
"But you still believe
that there's more to this?" asked Thomas, knowing damn well that both he
and Lt. Taylor had suspicions that went beyond the coroner's final report.
"I'd bet my job on
it."
"So am I free to run
off to the Bahamas, or what ever it is that us unconvicted criminals do?"
asked Thomas.
"Don't get coy with me
Thomas. I know, and I think that you
know, that something happened here last week that can't be explained by a
coroner's report. I could have this
place torn apart nail by nail and still not know any more than I do now. And that's the only reason that I don't."
"I'm sorry Bill.
It's just that lately I've been accused of sleeping with Louise, and
things even more incredible than that."
"The truth will stand
on it's own Thomas, if it's ever to be found," said a solemn Lt. Taylor.
"Look Bill, I
appreciate your concern in this matter, both professionally and as someone that
I think cares. But I haven't got an
answer for you. Hell, I don't even have
an answer for myself."
"That's good enough for
me, Thomas. The case is officially closed. But if you ever
find out anything else…"
"I know who to
call," returned Thomas.
"Thomas," asked
Taylor, in a voice so gentle that Thomas couldn't believe it was coming from
such a big man.
"Yes."
"I know this might
sound strange to you, and it's totally out of my range of jurisdiction, but… please get help with
Edward. There's something wrong with
the boy, I'm sure of it. I'd bet my life
on it."
"Bill, I'll be the
first to admit that Edward is a little different. Maybe it's just growing up without a mother, not having a tit to
suck on, I don't know. Sometimes, I
just want to beat the living shit out of him, you know what I mean? But I can't, or I won't. Take it any way that you want. I can't explain the way he acts sometimes,
but I don't think it's time to call out the guys with the little white
suits."
"Listen Thomas, and
listen good. I've been doing what I'm
doing for a lot of years now. Are there
people that are better experts than myself?
You bet. But you won't find many
of them in the State of Nebraska. I
guess the guys down in Lincoln have a jump on me in some ways. They have to deal with the dopers from the
college all of the time. But, in the
long run, I'd bet they've never run across anything like your Edward."
"You make him sound
like some kind of a freak," said Thomas.
"Now you're starting to
get the picture."
"Oh come on lieutenant,
he's only a boy, barely ten years old."
"He's more than
that," said Taylor. "When I
talked to him in my office, all he could do was rant about how glad he was to
have Louise out of his hair. Remorse is
not a word you will find in Edward's vocabulary. When I began to inquire further about his problems with Louise,
he clammed up and basically refused to answer any of my questions."
"So what does that
prove? That he didn't get along with
his surrogate mother?"
"Edward is unlike any
ten year old I've ever met. He's cold
and brutal, something I'm far more used to seeing in teenagers. But he's actually gone a step beyond
them."
"And what might that
be?" asked Thomas.
"He's got that look in
his eyes, I've seen it before. If
Edward ever threatens you in any way, be prepared for him to follow through
with it. It's an intangible thing,
something that you just pick up after having to deal with it from time to
time."
"Do you get this
feeling a lot?" asked Thomas, beginning to re-evaluate Lt. Taylor.
"I used to work in
downtown Omaha, they even have a heroin problem there; do you know that? They have stabbings, shootings, rape and
child beatings every day. I transferred
out here because I couldn't handle that anymore. But do you wanna know what?
I never seen anything as scary as your son in my three years on the
Omaha Police Force."
"You've got to be
kidding," answered Thomas.
"I kid you not. I'd have Edward doing a one on one with the
best psychiatrist I could find if I had the power to do it. But I don't, not the way things are
now."
Thomas looked Bill in the
eyes, and realized that he was being honest.
"Bill, I'll be watching Edward like a hawk from now on, and if he
even gets one hair out of line, I'll give you a call. I promise you that."
"Chances are, you'll
never get to make that call Thomas, but I guess I can't ask for anything
more. Just do me a favor, and never
turn your back on Edward."
"You can take that one
to the bank, Bill."
"Okay, then I'm down
the road."
"Good-bye, Bill."
"See you again,
Thomas."
5
Eddie leaned back as far as
he could in the seat of the little Cessna and opened his eyes and ears for the
first time in ten minutes. He took in
the scene in front of him while Joe Mangione talked to Sara, who had the
control wheel in her hands and seemed to actually be steering the
aircraft. After a few seconds he was
sure she was, because all of the movements of the plane seemed to correspond to
her movements of the controls. They
weren't nearly as smooth as that of an experienced pilot, but weren't
uncomfortable as one would expect from a first timer. He debated whether to chastise Magione again about taking up
valuable time, but decided against it.
He was tired. Totally drained would be a more accurate
statement, he told himself. Let those
two have their fun. He needed to build
up his strength again, and that always happened a lot faster when he didn't
have any distractions. He closed his
eyes again and began to breathe calmly yet deeply, much as a yoga student would
do. He tried to focus on just his own
rebuilding, but couldn't quite shut off the conversations in his brain. He had so much to do, and not much time to
do it in. Yet he knew that Jonathan
would be a handful, and he needed to be up to speed when that time came.
He told himself he would
take a quick inventory of the situation at hand, and then spend the rest of the
time resting up.
First of all, he had gotten
a hold of Jonathan, and hopefully stopped him from contacting the ol'
man. In trade for that, he had exposed
himself to Jonathan also. That was
something he hadn't planned on, and wasn't really ready for. He had toyed with the idea of how he would
do it, and when, before now. But he had
planned that to be in the future quite a ways, definitely after they were
secure in their position in Washington D.C.
And done more slowly and gently, he reminded himself. Oh well, the best made plans of mice and men….
Second, he wanted to take
care of this Mangione thing once and for all.
Today. Without any open
ends. But they needed him to get back
to Olympia in time to take advantage of the present situation. That all depended on Jonathan's state of
mind though, he reminded himself. It
might be better to keep him on ice for a while until he got everything back
under control. His control.
Third, a small matter in
deed, he would also have to arrange a way to get Jonathan's car back to
Olympia. It wouldn't do to leave it by
the side of the airstrip and have it found by some local policeman, who would
surely track it down to Jonathan with a quick call to the station. He could have it towed, but that would take time
waiting around for some clown from Long Beach, and that was time he didn't want
to spend.
Then it hit him. How could he have been so slow in seeing the
obvious? He must be more weakened than
he thought. All he had to do was have
Jonathan drive them back to Olympia, and arrange for Mangione to have a little
accident on the flight back. Jesus! How
simple!
That would take some doing
of course, but his powers seemed to recharge faster every day. He was definitely growing stronger, in leaps
and bounds, even though at the moment he still felt very weak, and had a
tremendous headache. He must
concentrate on relaxing now, he told himself, that and nothing else.
He soon drifted off into
nothingness, the steady drone of the Cessna's engine helping him along.