What If Angels Sang the Blues?

What would the new king say? What about the Druid shaman? And the Christian priest? How would they feel about the blues? Or did they sing their own Dark Ages version of the blues, Druids to the earth  mother, Christians to Jesus? Who sang the blues didn't matter until the Druids accused Brigitte the Money Changer of murdering King Flipnot II on his 19th birthday. Christians defended Brigitte and dumped the blame on Axelrod the Red. While angels sang the blues in the Cathedral of St, Catherine the Juggernaut, I began the investigation. That's right, I'm the Sheriff of Nottingham. Murder is my game.

Killer Crowds

Have you ever watched one of those old films of city street scenes shot more than a century ago? The people are scurrying about like folks today in our big cities. The clothes are different. The cars and horse-drawn buggies are ancient. The brick and stone buildings in those flashing images have been replaced with ever higher glass and steel towers. But the action of the people is still the same. City life is, and always has been, about hustle and bustle.

Have you ever wondered where all those people in those old films are today? The simple answer is they are dead. But are they? Where do the people go who once hurried about our city streets?

I have seen people come and go for a decade in Philadelphia and multiple decades in Chicago. My travels, business and personal, have taken me to Boston, New York, Washington, Atlanta, Dallas, Denver, El Paso, Tucson, Detroit, Cleveland, Seattle and other great cities. The scene is always the same. Even in Canada, where I have visited Montreal, Toronto, Winnipeg, Calgary and their other cities I have witnessed the phenomenon: people in motion.

But where do they go?
Chicago, where I have spent the most time studying this mystery, makes a great example. The people scurrying about the Loop today are not the same people who labored there a generation ago. Where did those other folks disappear to?

I asked people in my business network. Their answers can be summed up in four words: “home, retirement, Florida, death.”

But do they really go to those places?

Try this experiment
Follow someone you see on the street in the evening rush hour when a mass of humanity heads for the train station. It doesn’t matter which city you’re in. Pick a person and follow him or her. Most of the time that person will simply disappear into the crowd and you will never see her again. Where did she go?

The mystery of the vanishing horde has haunted me these many decades. I have followed thousands of individuals. Pick the right person on the correct day and you’ll tail them right to their train. Those folks went home for dinner that night. But what about the people who vanished into the crowd right before your eyes? You watched them walking not more than 10 paces in front of you when suddenly they were nowhere to be seen.

Where did they go?

Two theories
In the interest of science (fiction and otherwise), I humbly offer two theories for further development by you or an expert of your choice:

Transcendental Departure: Could it be that when our time in the city is up and our business tasks are performed enough for one lifetime, we disappear into the crowd? We in effect become part of the crowd or one with the crowd. We are absorbed into the crowd. Our essence, our personhood, is distributed to the other individuals who make up the crowd. Our essence invigorates and strengthens the crowd, but at the price of our individual existence.

Adult Rebirth: Perhaps we become someone else as we are absorbed into the crowd. At one end of the mass sea of heads bobbing up in down to form a wave pattern, we vanish unnoticed by our casual passerby neighbors intent on making their homeward train on time. At the other end of the crowd, someone emerges, new and vigorous from our essence, someone you have never seen before. Meanwhile, no one in the city remembers you once you have vanished forever into the crowd.

A possible third theory? Beam me up, Scotty.

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Don’t Cry Over Spilt…

Police Detective Larson’s Irish green eyes didn’t light up when Primerot explained the reason for our late night gatherings of the Fox River Writers Group. Larson apparently had no experience with horror novels or the creatures who create them. His interest was that huge blood stain to the right of the bar at Murphy’s tap in St. Charles.

Morty the barkeep tried to explain that it was his fault the blood was spilled, but Larson didn’t get it. What’s not to get? We all have our little accidents. People are so data-focused these days, not like frontier times when a little bloodletting was a normal part of life and nobody much cared unless it was their own blood.

When Larson asked to see the liquor license, Morty laughed. “I don’t sell alcoholic beverages in this establishment, detective.”

“What do you sell?” Larson rubbed his hand across the pull tap for one of the kegs under the bar.

The rest of us laughed except Primerot who took notes for her new novel Bloodlust.

I tried to be helpful. “You may have noticed, Detective Larson, that we are not exactly like the people you meet every day in your job.”

Larson had enough of us. “Pour a glass of whatever brew you have in this keg.”

Morty snatched a beer mug from the warmer oven. He raised the glass high in the air. Our entire writer’s group including Primerot, Nosebuster, Suckbreath, Dimsnort and me craned our necks with eyes the size of silver dollars, for those of you who remember silver dollars. Anyway, they’re big.

Morty grinned a little wider than most people’s mouths will allow. This little trick made Larson’s eyes light up. Certain he had the detective’s attention; Morty pulled the tap, filling it with red joy.

“What is that? Some kind of wine?” Larson had not yet made the connection between the sweet aroma of fresh kill and the rubicund liquid Morty handed to him.

The link became obvious when Larson gawked in our direction. We, who couldn’t resist that flavorful scent, had our mouths open wide enough to expose the full length of our three-inch needle sharp incisors.

Larson pulled his handgun. I think it was a Glock, but what do I know of weapons other than my own fangs? As for the blood stain on the floor, Larson should have arrived earlier when we wrestled for the privilege of licking it up.

Despite Larson’s tough guy exterior, we each had a share with Primerot taking the devil’s portion. She is, after all, our leader.

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Evil Incarnate at Your Local Coffee Shop

Ted Wilson had no intention of kissing a vampire hag full on the lips when he entered the coffee shop earlier than usual yesterday morning. With the local Twilight Coffee Shoppe operating a 24-hour Latte and Leave service, Ted knew he could caffeinate on the 50-minute drive down the Reagan to the Eisenhower to the Loop. Fifty minutes if you left before the morning rush which explained his stop at the Twilight Coffee Shoppe.

When the tall, extremely pale barista asked if he wanted the usual, Ted moaned yes, but when he opened the plastic top to pour in a little almond-flavored imitation creamer, he did not expect to see a blood-red brew.

“What’s this?” he inquired.

The barista flashed a toothy grin before announcing, “Oops, that one’s mine.”

Ted snagged the correct brew cup and slid his debit card through the machine. He headed for the door without the almond-flavored imitation creamer.

“Wait,” said the barista. “Please allow me to apologize profusely for the error. Entirely my fault.”

Ted, who by this time had a hand on the front door, spun about. “No problem.” He didn’t see the barista so he shrugged. When he turned to leave, he bumped into her.

“When I say apologizes profusely, darling, I mean profusely.” The barista planted her ample lips firmly over Ted’s.

Ted was not one to mind a pair of warm female lips connected to his own, but they must be warm. The barista’s lips were as cold as Italian sausage yanked from the refrigerator, not that Ted ever kissed a cold Italian sausage. He preferred his meat hot, juicy and well done, but that’s another story for a different sort of blog than this one.

When the barista pulled back from the kiss, Ted noticed her fangs. It’s hard to miss a pair of three-inch upper incisors on a woman whose beauty is in the range of oh… let’s say Morticia Addams.

“What the…” Ted began to say before he was interrupted by the insertion of the barista’s incisors into his jugular vein.

As I said, that was yesterday morning before sunrise. This evening, Ted returned to the Latte and Leave.

“Usual?” the tall, pale barista asked.

“Yes, the usual,” replied Ted.

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Are You Afraid?

Scary, invisible things haunt your soul and keep you from the life you deserve. But what happens when one of those frightening creatures turns visible, for your eyes only? Creepy, right?

You’re alone in your bedroom, late at night with the lights on because you’re reading a horror story (like my Hags). The window flies open and something flaps its way into your room. Is it a bat? Or is it a mist on the wind?

What does the vapor shape into while it floats above your bed at midnight? The eyes, red and glowing like coals, appear first. Then a long, green nose slithers out of the haze. The rest of the face follows. You’re staring at a hag older than humankind.

You pull the covers over your head in hopes the creature will vanish by sunrise. As you contemplate your fate, you consider the value of praying to a God you’re not sure you believe in, just in case the thing in your room is real. Because if it is, then maybe there’s more to this God thing than meets your busy eyeballs. That’s when you hear the bump.

You pull the covers down from your face as you summon the courage to peek at the hag in your midnight bedroom. But there is no hag, only the wind through your open window, billowing curtains, and your paperback copy of Hags on the floor where it landed after that last big gust.

You close your eyes, snuggle into your pillow, and wait in the dark for what you know always comes next. 

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Hags Episode 20

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Denise knelt to receive her cat. She lifted her head to face Micah. “How do you know so much about the intellectual capacity of criminals?”

“I spent a huge chunk of my life among thieves, robbers, murderers and rapists.”

“Were you one of them?” Denise picked up Fritz.

“I served time with them.”

Denise stood up with Fritz in her arms. “What are you doing way out here, you naughty thing.”

“Ummm, strolling with you, remember? It was your idea.” Micah folded his arms across his chest.

“I meant the cat.”

“I know.”

“Which were you in for?”

“Rape.”

Denise stared bullets into Micah’s eyes. She dropped Fritz and punched Micah so hard in the ribs that he had to sidestep several times to avoid falling over. Fritz ran towards the trees.

Micah grabbed his ribcage and glared at Denise with his mouth open and his eyes wide. “You promised not to hit me again and besides, did I say I was guilty?”

“How could you do such a thing?”

“Did you hear me?”

Denise pointed an accusing finger in Micah’s face. “All criminals claim they’re innocent.”

“I was.”

“You mean some girl made up a story about you raping her just for the fun of it?”

“She made up the story.”

“For the fun of it?” Denise’s finger touched Micah’s nose.

He stepped back. “I have no idea why she did it. I thought she liked me.”

Denise placed her hands on her hips. “She allowed you to go to prison based on a lie?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t believe you. You must have done something.” Denise folded her arms in front of her.

Micah scratched the top of his head. “I’ve asked myself what I could have done for her to call it rape, and I never came up with an answer.”

“A girl knows when she is raped, Micah.”

Micah scratched his head. “She was only fourteen, but yeah, she sure knew how to describe it in detail at the trial.”

“You must have hurt her.”

“Fell in love with her older sister.”

“You cheated on her?”

“No. I mean I dated the older sister. Then one day the little sister announced I had raped her. Next thing, I was in jail. Then a trial. My word against hers. Jury believed her. I got ten-to-fifteen. Parole board refused parole. It was such a horrible crime because she was jailbait, and I never acknowledged my guilt, so I served the full fifteen.”

Denise placed her hands in her pockets. “She never recanted her story?”

“Nope.”

“You must have done something.”

Micah grabbed Denise by the shoulders. “Yeah, I lived with real thieves, robbers, murderers and rapists.”

Denise shoved him away.

The End of this preview set of episodes. But the story isn't over yet.

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Hags Episode 19

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“Do you think he killed her here or just dumped the body?” Denise Appleby touched Micah’s arm while batting her blue eyes.

Micah kicked a small granite stone on the dirt path that ran through a meadow located in the forest preserve in Warrenville. The couple faced the east side of the narrow muddy track where yellow police tape outlined an area twenty-five feet on a side.

“The TV news guy said it happened here.” Micah pulled Denise close to him.

Denise gazed into Micah’s brown eyes and pointed at the police tape. “A smart criminal would have buried her to hide the evidence.”

Micah waved an arm at the crime scene. It smelled of innocent forest preserve greenery. “Her killer left her for a Forest Preserve policeman to discover on his rounds.

Denise stepped over the police tape. “Sounds like a rape gone bad. If he had planned to kill her, he would have brought a shovel to bury her with.”

Micah grabbed her arm to pull her back. Robins whistled in the trees.

Denise swung her arm free and giggled as she stepped out of Micah’s reach. “He didn’t cut her. There’s no blood.”

“Probably choked her. Hard to tell with the body hauled in for the autopsy. If he stabbed her somewhere else, there wouldn’t be much in the way of blood here.”

Denise shuttered and returned to Micah. She leaned close to him across the tape. “Poor girl. She was just a kid. Such a waste.”

“High school senior according to the news reports.” Micah put his arms around Denise and rubbed her back.

“The police may not have any clues.”

“They have clues. Criminals are amazingly stupid. They leave a little something behind. A footprint. A fingerprint. Telltale body fluids.”

Denise pulled back from Micah. “Yech! Let’s not talk about it, okay?”

“Sounds good to me.” Micah took her hand and urged her back across the police tape. His eyes wandered along the open ground. “Isn’t that Fritz?”

“Where?”

“Look through those oaks to that weedy area.” Micah pointed towards some underbrush.

Denise took a step away from Micah and placed her hands on her hips. “Fritz! Here, Fritz. Kitty, kitty, kitty.”

Fritz ran to his mistress.

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Hags Episode 18

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After many years of entertaining young ladies in need of a little assistance with their grades, the thought of something new to explore about himself tickled Dr. Lionel Langdon, principal of Ulysses S. Grant High School (“Your principal is your pal”). Taking advantage of senior class girls (always after their eighteenth birthday, mind you) had become boring in recent years. So much so, that he considered abandoning the practice and simply allowing the girls to flunk math or whatever subject slowed them down.

He hadn’t planned it. Really, it was quite an accident. But such thoughts must wait for a more private moment. For now, he busied himself with the business of gathering leaves and sticks to provide a temporary covering for the grave evidence of his new-found avocation.

Not until he was satisfied that Megan McCormick was safely tucked away in her temporary sarcophagus of leaves and weeds did he dismiss himself. He planned to return later that evening with a shovel for the burial. Next time, he must prepare better for the unexpected turning of events. Of course, next time, the event would be well-conceived with the shovel in the trunk of his car, ready and waiting.

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Hags Episode 17

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“So you checked me out while I was painting?” Micah’s smile grew wide.

“I did?”

“I know.”

“No, it was a question. You think I peeked at you?”

“It’s what you told the detective.”

“So.”

“Maybe we should have given him a muffin.”

Denise twirled a finger through her ponytail. “He’s not good looking enough, maybe a tad too old, and probably way too married for my muffins.”

“I’m none of those things, but I am a suspect. Sure you want to feed this muffin to me?”

“You haven’t been here long enough to murder anyone. If you had come to Naperville to kill a few people, you wouldn’t have bought a house.” Denise picked up the big muffin Micah had taken a bite out of earlier. “Here, it’ll feed your heart, your head and your tummy.”

“And it’s tasty.” Micah stuffed another bite into his mouth.

Denise’s eyes glowed while Micah ate more of her muffin. “Uhmm, you did buy the house, right?”

“Yes. So you didn’t leer at me?” Micah swallowed more of the muffin.

“You want me to ogle you?”

“If I get to peep back at you.”

Denise slapped his face.

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Hags Episode 16

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Denise smacked Micah on the arm and then folded her arms across her chest. She stared at Lawson.

The police officer took a step back. “I’ll repeat the question. Would you mind telling me where you were yesterday afternoon between three and six?”

“I was here.” Micah took another bite of muffin.

“Can you prove it?”

“Can you prove I wasn’t? By the way, these are tasty. Sure you don’t want one.” Micah picked up the basket of muffins.

Denise unfolded her arms and grabbed the basket. She placed it on the counter behind her. “I saw him here working yesterday afternoon.”

Micah glanced at Denise. “You did?”

“Yeah. I peeked in through your window as you worked sans shirt. You’re fun to stare at. I also noticed your car never left the driveway.” She turned to the detective, batting her eyes. “I did gawp at him. I was a regular Peeping Tom or Tammy. Will you arrest me?”

Detective Lawson shook his head. “Not at the moment. I didn’t come to accuse anyone of anything. I want to eliminate a few names.”

“You mean suspects, don’t you?” Micah asked.

The detective put his coffee down. “If you prefer, but it’s a bit early to call anyone a suspect. The pervert killed her yesterday afternoon.”

“And she’s not the one I found the other day?” Micah asked.

“No, this is a different case.”

“May I inquire as to what happened?” Denise asked.

“You’ll read about it in the paper or hear about it on the news.” Lawson put his pen back inside his shirt pocket.

Denise frowned. “But, detective, you’re here now. You can’t tease us with a juicy murder mystery and then leave. What happened? Who was killed?”

“Thanks for your time. Both of you.” The detective smiled before making his way out of the house.

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Hags Episode 15

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Micah stared at the officer. “I remember you.”

“You do? I wore a uniform then.”

“I remember every cop on the Naperville police force.”

“Most of the guys you knew retired. May I come in?”

“What’s this about?”

“I need to ask some questions.”

“Do you have a warrant?”

“We could do this back at the station, Mr. Probert. I can get a warrant, but for now I prefer a friendly chat to see if you can clear up a few things for us. Afterwards, I won’t have to bother you again.”

“Is this about the body I found?” Micah’s eyes followed a blur of red movement in the sky. “Can you see that?”

Detective Lawson turned around. “See what?”

“Nevermind. He’s gone now.”

Lawson gestured, palms up. “Who’s gone?”

“If you didn’t see it, you won’t believe it. Trust me, he left the area.”

Lawson rubbed his chin. “If you see things I don’t see, one of us has a problem.”

“You would have seen it if you looked that way. He’s out of sight now.”

“Who are we talking about?” Lawson stepped closer to Micah.

“Not sure. Some guy flying across the sky.”

“In a small airplane?”

“Something like that. A big kite or glider. Or he sprouted wings and flew. You never answered my question.”

“It’s not about the body you found.”

“Then come in.” Micah turned back into the house leaving the officer outside. Lawson opened the storm door and followed Micah into the kitchen.

“Planning to move, Mr Probert?”

“I registered as an offender so I’m sure you know I’m still moving in.”

Denise Appleby furrowed her eyebrows as she stared at Micah.

“I didn’t realize you had company, Mr. Probert. Can she come back later?” Lawson reached into his blue suit jacket and snagged a small paper tablet.

“I want her to stay if you don’t mind, detective.”

“As you wish.” Lawson removed a cheap ballpoint from his shirt pocket. It was the kind of writing instrument sweaty sales people give away at tradeshows.

“What about what I wish?” Denise poured more coffee into her cup, fixed her eyes on the police detective and smiled. She placed her cup down on the counter and climbed up on the chair in front of the refrigerator. Micah admired her lower appendages below her short skirt as she pulled down a cup and jumped to the floor.

“Milk and sugar, detective?” Micah picked up the spoon and gave it a quick wipe with a towel.

“Black is fine. Mr. Probert, I’ll come to the point. Can you account for your whereabouts yesterday afternoon?”

“I unpacked some stuff and did some paint-up, fix-up work.”

“Were you here say between three and six? By the way, those muffins appear enticing.”

Denise jumped in front of the muffins. “You may not have any.”

The detective pulled his arm back. “I didn’t ask for one. I said they appeared tasty.”

Denise checked out the detective with a nervous grin.

“She made them for me, detective. I would offer you one, but you might turn into a frog, and we wouldn’t want that to happen.” Micah smiled.

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Hags Episode 14

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Micah sniffed the steam rising from a stack of muffins. An oversized muffin, oozing blueberries, sat on top of the heap.

Micah reached into the basket.

Denise smacked his hand. “First, a gentleman offers a lady coffee when she visits.” She placed her hand on Micah’s Delonghi coffeemaker. “This is nice. Does it make good coffee?”

Micah rubbed the back of his sore hand. “It will when I remember which box has the Jamaican Blue Mountain. Right now it’s pouring the best decaf this side of Bob’s Coffee Emporium. Let me find you a cup.” Micah opened a cabinet door to discover it held plates and saucers, but no cups. He opened another cabinet, but it held a few plastic storage containers.

Denise turned to the cabinet behind her, the one above the refrigerator. She pulled a chair over, stood on it and opened the cabinet door. She grabbed a mug, turned around and jumped to the floor as her miniskirt billowed in the breeze. “I wouldn’t keep the coffee mugs in that one. It’s too hard to reach. I like your mugs by the way.”

“I must have put them away before heading to the coffee shop for the real thing. A guy in Phoenix makes the mugs by hand so I bought a bunch. Would you like cream and sugar?”

“You have real cream?”

“Of course.” Micah pulled a container from the refrigerator.

“And a touch of sugar.”

“Do you mind sharing my spoon? I’d hate to have to figure out where the rest of them are until I finish unpacking.”

“If I have no other choice.” Denise stared at the spoon for a few seconds. “Is this real silver?”

“Guess so. I inherited it.”

Denise shrugged her shoulders and picked the extra large muffin out of her basket. “I made this one especially for you.”

“Thanks. Aren’t the rest of them for me, too?”

“Of course, but that one has an extra portion of my special blueberries with an added dollop of goodness. By the way, you didn’t tell me why you put cream and sugar in your coffee if you prefer it black.”

Micah took the muffin and held it in his hand. “Still warm from the oven. My father drank his coffee with cream and sugar so I honor him with one cup his way. It keeps me going during the rough times. I can feel his presence when I do it, and it makes me smile.”

“Not everyone loves their father.”

“I did. He’s gone now.” Micah lifted the muffin to his mouth.

“Oh, I’m sorry. You must miss him terribly.”

Micah pulled the muffin away from his mouth. “I do. He stood by me when no one else would.” Micah took a bite. “Hmmm, you’re right. This muffin is special.”

“Not even your mother?”

“She died a long time ago. It was me and Dad growing up.” Micah turned at the sound of loud knocking on his front door. He set the rest of the muffin on the counter by his cup of coffee.

Denise stirred her coffee. “You better answer it.”

When Micah passed the staircase, he caught a glimpse of the pioneer woman climbing the steps.

At the front door, a man in a grey business suit held up a badge. “Detective Lawson, Naperville police.”

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Hags Episode 13

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Chapter Six
Despite the stream of light from the window and the brightness of two lamps, Micah could see the aerie specter of the pioneer woman. She sat in a phantom rocking chair in the corner of the room where she knitted.  He chose to ignore her as he prepared to peel the wallpaper from the front bedroom walls of his Naperville fixer-upper.

Micah couldn’t tell if the wallpaper was fifty years old or a hundred. Judging from the ghost’s costume, he guessed more like one hundred fifty. That would make it one of the oldest homes in Naperville. The wallpaper may have been light and cheerful at one time, but now a dull gray-brown depressed the atmosphere of the room.

In a corner at the front of the house, he pulled a wet scrub brush out of a dark brown plastic bucket and applied water to the paper. Once he had a large section soaked, he pulled a wide scraper out of the back pocket of his ragged blue jeans. He rubbed it along the wet paper to peel it away from the wall. The wet globs of paper fell to the painter’s plastic sheet on the floor. Micah worked his way across the front wall until he removed the wallpaper.

He descended to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. Unlike Bob’s Coffee Emporium, where he drank a strong, black brew, he poured decaf. He stirred in milk and two teaspoons of sugar before raising the cup to his lips.

“You like milk and sugar in your coffee?” The female voice startled Micah. Had the pioneer woman decided to speak? He surveyed the room but didn’t see the phantom. He set the cup down on the counter and grabbed a towel to wipe splashed coffee from his shirt.

“I prefer it black.” Micah placed the dishtowel on the kitchen table and opened the screen door. “Why are you in my backyard?”

Denise Appleby carried a small wicker basket into the room. A faded flower-print cloth covered the contents of the basket. She wore a flower pattern pink dress with lots of yellow blossoms and thin, long green leaves. The dress, though new, appeared similar to the cloth covering the basket. A strip of fabric matching her dress held her raven hair in a ponytail. “What? Are you afraid I’m trespassing? The fact is, you refused to answer the front door.”

“Hmmm, something smells fresh. How’d you get into my yard? There’s no gate.”

“I climbed. I’m a suffragette; I’m not helpless.” She placed the wicker basket on a counter.

“Suffragette?”

“My mom used to say it a lot, and I picked it up. It’s an old-fashioned way of saying ‘liberated.’”

“I didn’t hear you ring the bell. Say, are those blueberries I smell?”

“I don’t think your bell works.”

“I’ll check into it, but first, may I liberate one of your whatevers you have in your basket?”

“Certainly.” Denise pulled the faded cloth off the basket.

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Hags Episode 12

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Bob rose from his chair and faced the counter. He paced a short distance and checked over his shoulder. “You know where to find me if you need me.” Bob made his way up to Peevy. They talked.

Micah took a sip from his coffee while focusing on Peevy. In this light and distance it didn’t take much for him to picture the last time she smiled at him.

He remembered a summer day on the Prairie Path, an abandoned series of old railroad right of ways converted to hiking paths that wander through Chicago’s suburbs. Peevy in blue shorts and a white sleeveless top. And about two hundred fewer pounds. A kiss. Not one of those passionate, let’s make like bunnies in the bushes kind of kisses. Instead, they pressed each other’s lips together in a gentle promise of commitment.

A tear flowed down Micah’s right cheek. Peevy stared at him from behind the counter and her expression softened for a split second before it hardened again. Then her face lit up as she turned to the front door of the coffee shop.

“Ahlman!” she called. Several customers stood up when the man with gossamer wings hidden under his Ivy League blue dress shirt entered. They began to applaud.

“Way to go, Ahlman,” a man shouted from a table on the other side of the room.

Ahlman strutted up to the counter through a group of about one half dozen admirers who wanted to shake his hand. He smiled and shook hands like a politician.

“It’s on the house. I’m overlooking that you’re a man,” Peevy said.

“Thank you, dear lady.” Ahlman took the coffee and headed towards Micah’s table. He passed it and sat at the next table in the row and eyeballed Micah as he sat down. He placed his coffee and a copy of Twain’s Letters From the Earth on the table.

Micah nodded in Ahlman’s direction. “You must have done something right.”

Ahlman’s eyes twinkled. “Raised money for one of the local high schools, old boy. I have some friends who are generous.”

“Friends in high places?”

Ahlman laughed and shook his head from side-to-side. “You’re new in town, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. Been here both days.”

Ahlman moved to Micah’s table. “How do you like our town so far?”

“I’ve always liked Naperville. Certain Napervillians are the problem.” Micah took another bite of his scone and washed it down with coffee.

“So this is not your first visit?”

“Long story. Let’s not go there.”

“Any interesting adventures since you came to town?”

“It’s only been two days.”

“So…”

Micah glared at Ahlman. “Yesterday morning a giant faerie that looked like you flew past my window on gossamer wings and landed in the alley in back of my house. Oh, and I found a body in the dumpster.”

“Tell you what, Micah, I’ll be careful of my flight patterns, and you be careful of your imagination.”

“So it was you?”

Ahlman roared with laughter. “You found a faerie? Naperville is such a straight-laced suburban community that I’m surprised you would find one around here. Then again I suppose you can find gays everywhere. My, this is noble coffee. They don’t roast it like this where I come from.”

“How do you know my name?”

“Peevy. You set the land speed record for making her angry when you came in yesterday morning. I asked her who you were.”

“And she told you?”

“She said you were the reason she hates all men.”

“About says it all.” Micah took a sip of coffee.

“Doesn’t say why she hates you, old boy.”

“No. I’m surprised she didn’t tell you.”

“She may not have wanted to make me blush. I have a certain reputation to maintain. Did you say you found a body? I don’t believe Naperville has many murders.”

Micah held up his forefinger. “It has one now.”

“We’ve had our share of rape and child molestation, but I don’t think we’ve had many murders.” Ahlman took a sip of his coffee.

“Peevy told you?”

“Told me what, Micah?”

“I’m leaving now.” Micah stood up.

“By the way, nice outfit, Micah. Nieman-Marcus?”

Micah stormed out into the bright light of the street.

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Hags Episode 11

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We interrupt your reading of my novel Hags for an important message. I won't be able to post the entire novel here, but at the end of the episodes appearing  here, I'll make the Kindle version available free for a week on Amazon so you can finish it at your leisure. And if you simply must have the entire book right away, you may purchase the paperback or Kindle version at any time by clicking here.

And now back to our regularly schedule episode of Hags:

Bob’s eyes became intense as he faced Micah again. “What did you do?”

“I told you.”

“What about Janice?”

“She’s a liar.”

“And you always tell the truth?”

Micah placed an elbow on the table and rubbed his jaw with his hand. He let his hand slide up to his mouth. The hand slid over to allow Micah to rest his cheek on it. “I spent fifteen years in prison because someone else didn’t tell the truth.”

“You believe that, don’t you?”

Micah dropped his hand from his cheek and locked eyes with Bob. “Why shouldn’t I? It’s the truth.”

“Sometimes when someone does something horrible, they block it out in their mind.”

“I told you the truth. You can believe me or not. Your choice.”

Bob gazed towards the front door. No one entered. He turned to Micah. “Sounds to me like the choices were made a long time ago. Perhaps it’s time to put the past behind you and move on with life.”

“That’s why I’m here.”

“You came home to put the past behind you?”

“I came to Naperville to … I don’t know … it’s more like I’m trying to get a handle on life. Do you ever wonder why you’re alive?”

“No. I know why I’m alive.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

Micah sipped more coffee. He placed the cup on the table and gazed into Bob’s eyes. “Where you are is where I want to go because right now my life sucks. It has sucked for twenty years, and I’m ready to get off this screwed up merry-go-round.”

“I can help.”

“How?”

“For starters, I could be a friend.” Bob reached across the table, his arm not long enough to reach Micah.

“You’d have to believe me before I could trust you.”

Bob straightened up and turned his hands palm up. “I believe that you believe you didn’t commit the crime for which you went to prison.”

“That’s not good enough.”

“Okay, it may not be, but it’s a beginning. The rest will follow.” Bob placed his hands on the table and stared at Micah.

“Bob, I appreciate your honesty. I do. But I don’t need friends.”

“What are you looking for?”

“When I figure that out, I’ll tell you.”

“So you need some sort of purpose?” Bob leaned back and stroked his chin.

“For starters.”

“So what are you doing in Naperville besides drinking coffee?”

A sudden rush of heat rose in Micah’s face. His voice became animated. “Eating scones.” Micah took a bite from his cranberry pastry. “And fixing up a house. It’s an experiment. I want to see if I can buy cheap, fix up and sell high. I like working with my hands.”

“Sounds like a purpose to me. A bit mercenary, but a purpose.”

“It’s more like what I’m doing until I figure out what I’m doing.”

“We should talk more about this. Your life has a purpose.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

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Hags Episode 10

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Chapter Five

Micah pulled a thick wad of bills from his blue jeans pocket. “Coffee, black, big, intense.”

“Screw off.” Peevy’s voice did not sound as angry as yesterday, but her lips had that same upturned, puckered and livid sweep to them. Her eyes glared against her pale face.

From down the counter, Bob said, “Peevy, you can’t even swear right. What are you doing, opening a jar?”

Peevy threw an empty paper coffee cup at Bob. “Screw off.”

“Coffee, black, big, intense.” Micah stared at the faded wood floor to hide a smile. It became a game. He raised his eyes from the mahogany kick plate up to the glass face. Micah studied the bakery items on display.

“Screw off.”

“Cranberry scone.”

“Screw off.”

He peeled a fifty from his stack of bills and placed it on the counter. He raised his head. Peevy’s disheveled blond hair draped her puffy face. She no longer possessed the figure he remembered from twenty years ago when they were both nineteen.  Frowning did not make her attractive.

Peevy opened the register and placed the fifty inside. She removed coins and paper currency. After a cold stare, she threw the money on the glass counter top. “Screw off.”

“You’re welcome, and I don’t mind if you use the F-word.”

“Screw off. I hope you never F-word anyone again in your sorry, lousy life.” Peevy stomped into the backroom.

Micah pocketed the paper bills and three pennies remaining on the counter top. He ignored the three quarters, dime and nickel scattered across the floor but picked up the coffee and scone that Peevy slammed on the counter.

He parked at a table by the window and stared at the steam as it rose from the tiny hole in the plastic lid of his coffee cup. The rich aroma of coffee filled his nostrils as the vapor formed a petite, cold female hand and arm. As the mist rose higher, it dispersed into the shape of gossamer dragonfly wings.

“May I join you?” asked Bob.

Micah jumped. An embarrassed smirk crossed his lips as Bob sat opposite him with his tiny feet dangling in the air above the floor and his face stretching above the tabletop, kid style.

Peevy returned to the front and slapped the counter top with a towel. “If you were half a man, you’d buy a rope.”

Bob twisted around to face Peevy. “Hey, I am half a man.” He spun back to Micah. “What’s the rope for?”

“To hang me.”

 “What did you do to her?” Bob’s eyes became large.

“Didn’t do anything.”

“Must have done something for Peevy to hate you twenty years later. I know Peevy. She gets pissed and then she gets over it.”

“She believes I did a horrible thing.” Micah wiped his hand across his mouth. He looked up at Bob and took a sip of coffee. The bitter taste danced on his tongue.

“But you didn’t?”

Micah locked eyes with Bob. “No.”

Bob spun around again. “He didn’t do it, Peevy.”

Peevy stopped polishing the coffee machine. She didn’t bother to turnaround. “Ask him how many years he got in prison for doing nothing to my little sister.”

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Hags Episode 9

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Chapter Four

The rock rolled around in the pit of Megan McCormick’s stomach and parked on a sore spot as she entered the principal’s outer office. Megan breathed easier when she spotted Mrs. Rinaldi behind her desk in the reception area. Megan’s imaginary rock shrunk to a pebble and rolled off the sore place.

“Dr. Langdon sent for me, Mrs. Rinaldi.”

“Have a seat, dear.” Mrs. Rinaldi popped her head into the principal’s office. “Megan is here, Dr. Langdon.”

Megan fixed her gaze on Mrs. Rinaldi who returned to her desk. She became bored watching Mrs. Rinaldi pecking at her keyboard.

Megan almost bit down on her purple and green painted nails before catching herself. She placed both hands on her lap and sighed when she noticed they fell below the hemline of her short black skirt. She could see her navel with the tiny gold ring through her thin white blouse. She fastened two top buttons she had left undone.

Dr. Langdon strolled out to the reception area. He wore a brown sports coat and khaki trousers.

“Please come in, Megan.” He stood aside to allow Megan to pass into his office. She waited by Dr. Langdon’s desk and listened.

“You don’t have to wait around, Mrs. Rinaldi.”

“But you’ll be alone, Dr. Langdon. I mean with her. Is that a good idea?”

“Evelyn, you say that every time I have an afternoon student appointment, and I always tell you not to worry. It’s your choice, if you prefer to stay after hours. But there has never been a complaint since the day I took over as principal.”

“If you’re sure, I have things to do at home.”

The rock rolled back onto Megan’s sore spot and grew by several inches.

Dr. Langdon returned to his office. “Have a seat, Megan.” He indicated one of the two office chairs in front of his desk as he closed the office door.

Megan pulled at her skirt as she sat down. She wished she had worn slacks instead of her shortest outfit.

Dr. Langdon stepped behind his desk and picked up a file. He returned to the front of the desk and sat in the open seat, pulling it over so it touched Megan’s chair. He smiled while he opened the file. “Let’s talk about what we can do to bring up your math grade, Megan. I’d hate to have you not graduate with your class.”

He patted her on the hand.

Megan crossed her legs and stared at a smudge on the wall behind Dr. Langdon’s desk. She waited for what other girls said always came next.

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Hags Episode 8

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Chapter Three

Micah admired a pair of well-formed legs on his front porch as he returned from Bob’s Coffee Emporium. Above the female thighs, he appreciated the beauty of the woman in her short pink silk robe.

“May I help you?” Micah walked up the steps to stand behind her.

“You stole my cat.” The top of the woman’s dark brunette hair reached below Micah’s shoulders. She carried a few pounds beyond a perfect figure. “Are you the new dude?”

“I’m a new guy in town.”

The young woman pointed to the house next door with her thumb. “We’re neighbors. What are you doing with my cat?”

Micah dropped his eyes to the faded gray wood floor of the porch. He mumbled, “Didn’t steal anyone’s cat.”

“I can hear him meow inside your house. I’d recognize Fritz’s call anywhere. He puts an ‘R’ in it.”

Micah scratched his head. “Somebody’s cat stole me. Made me feed him milk. He meows with a lisp, you know.”

“You poison my cat?”

“I have a worse confession.” Micah reached for his keys.

“You killed him already and that’s his ghost I hear?”

“No. I let him sleep with me. He must have snuck in after the police found that body. Hope you’re not the jealous type.”

She stamped her right foot and pouted. She smiled. “A little, maybe. What about the police?”

“The body out back last night. Didn’t the police wake you with their noise?”

“Once I’m down for the night, that’s it. You saw a body? A dead person?”

“Murder victim.”

“I can read about it in the newspaper. And I’m sure the cops will canvas the neighborhood. So unless you plan to stop me, I’ll collect my cat.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am. Come on in.” Micah unlocked the door and waited while the young woman stepped into his house. The feminine aroma of flowered perfume wisped the air as she passed. The cat ran up the stairs as Micah entered. The girl charged up the steps in pursuit of the cat while her robe flew up to present an image of pink silkiness beneath.

Micah headed for the kitchen where he picked up the empty bowl of milk. When he reached for the red bowl, it was filled with blood. Around the bowl, more blood was splashed. Micah gasped and backed against the counter. He put the milk bowl in the sink. 

“I have him,” said a feminine voice from above.

Micah listened to the patter of bare feet down the steps and smiled at the appearance of the young lady in the kitchen.

“Thanks for taking care of Fritz. And I’m sorry I misjudged you. You’re not the catnapper I took you for.” She reached out her hand.

“Your cat caught his own breakfast.” Micah pointed down at the red bowl of blood.

“Looks like a bowl of water.” The girl’s eyes formed question marks that captured Micah’s own inquisitive eyes.

Micah glanced down again. The blood was missing. 

“Nice eyes.” The girl touched Micah on the arm. He jumped.

Micah wiped a hand across his face. “Sorry. I… I… don’t like to be touched, ma’am.”

“Not touching could take the fun out of a relationship.” The girl petted her cat.

“That kind of touching is cool. I mean the surprise kind, like now.” Micah dropped his eyes to the floor where he checked out the girl’s bright red toenails.

“Look at me.”

Micah looked up until his eyes met the girl’s.

“Like I said, you have nice eyes and I don’t give many compliments.”

“Wh…wha… what did you say?”

“Brown. I love dark brown eyes. Most girls like movie star blue, but I’m all about dark pools of liquid love.”

Micah’s eyes pointed to the floor again. “Whatever you say, ma’am.”

“Oh, please, stop calling me ‘ma’am. My name is Miss Appleby. You may call me Denise if you like. I live next door.” She extended her hand for the second time.

Micah gave her hand a gentle shake.

Denise dropped Micah’s hand. “I’m leaving now.”

Micah shook his head while struggling to keep his smile from slipping off his face.

“Goodbye.” Denise headed for the front door. She stopped and spun around. “What’s your name? Fritz will want to know.”

“I already told him.”

“Oh.”

“Just kidding, ma’am. I’m Micah Probert.”

“That’s not a name you hear everyday.”

“I hope not.”

“Are you famous, Mr. Probert? Your name sounds familiar.”

“Famous is not the right word.”

“Infamous?”

“So how long have you lived in Naperville, ma’am? And call me Micah, okay?”

“Okay, Micah, if you promise to stop calling me ‘ma’am. See you later.” Denise managed to close the door behind her without spilling the cat, or at least without spilling it as far as Micah could tell from his position in the kitchen by the sink.

“That long, eh?” Micah picked up the red water bowl from the floor. The blood had returned.

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Hags Episode 7

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“That bad, huh?”

Micah paused before he took a deep breath. “Found a body.”

“A human body?”

Micah searched Bob’s eyes. “Yes.”

“Alive, I hope.”

“No.” Micah noticed how dark brown Bob’s eyes were.

“Man or woman?”

Micah faced the window. His voice was soft. “Young teenaged girl, a kid.”

“What happened?” Bob put a tiny hand on Micah’s muscular arm.

Micah adjusted his position to face Bob. “Somebody cut her heart out.”

“Don’t tell me that stuff.”

“You asked.”

“Yeah. I can be stupid sometimes.” Bob called over his shoulders. “Hey, Peevy, you hear anything about a murder last night?”

Peevy stopped rubbing the counter and stared at Bob for a few seconds. “No.”

“Micah found a body.”

“His latest victim. Call the police.” Peevy resumed polishing.

Bob shook his head. “That’s harsh, Peevy.” He picked up Micah’s fifty, rubbed it between his fingers and handed it to Peevy at the counter. She held it up to the light while Bob returned to his seat.

Micah pointed with his coffee. “Didn’t realize Peevy worked here. I just moved back from Phoenix.”

“So you’re new in town?” Bob rose from his seat and picked up two empty coffee cups from the floor.

“New again. Grew up in Naperville.” Micah played with a rip in his faded blue jeans.

“Childhood sweetheart thing, right?” Bob tossed the cups in the trash before returning to his seat again.

“Yes, sir. High school. After high school.” Micah tried to duck as a wad of cash and several coins pelted him. More than a few customers ducked out of the way. Peevy turned her back to Micah.

“Peevy, you’re not nice,” Bob said.

Peevy turned around and stared blue-eyed bullets at Micah. “Get out means you put your rear end on the other side of the door.”

Bob approached the counter. “Peevy, give these nice customers here each a drink on the house. And stop scaring people away.”

Bob rejoined Micah at the table. “Some of us act like we’re still in high school, but it was such a long time ago for you two to be so angry with each other now. Did college break you up?”

“No.” Micah stuffed the wad of bills in his pants pocket without counting it. He ignored the coins scattered about the floor.

“Another girl?”

“Ask Peevy.” Micah took a sip of coffee.

“Ah, another boy. Tough luck, fella. Say, what’s your name anyway?”

“Probert.” He stared at the top of his coffee cup.

“That your first name?”

“Sorry, sir. Micah Probert.”

The short man stuck out a small hand with stubby fingers. “Bob. Glad to meet you.”

“You too, Bob.” Micah noticed a flash of color when a man strolled into the coffee shop.

The man wore blue jeans, a red shirt and brown leather lace up boots, the type a construction worker might use in the mud. A copy of Mark Twain’s Letters from the Earth stuck out from under his arm. Blood dripped from the book.

“You know that guy?” Micah asked.

“Yeah, he’s an angel. Why?” Bob sipped his coffee.

Micah’s stomach flipped. “His book is dripping blood.”

Bob turned to the man again. “No, it’s the color of the book.”

Micah glanced over again and didn’t see the blood. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “My eyes must be playing tricks on me. Anyway, he flew by my window this morning?”

“Low flying airplane?”

“No, gossamer wings.”

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Hags Episode 6

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“Wait,” said the short man. “Anyone who can piss off Peevy O’Malley by ordering a cup of coffee is somebody I want to know better.”

Micah stared at Bob. “Yes, sir, but I didn’t order yet.”

“Even better.” Bob waved toward a chair. “Have a seat.”

“As long as no one throws stuff at me.” Micah approached the chair.

“Relax. We can always toss you out later. Besides, Peevy is busy with other customers.”

Micah took the seat at a round table by the window. The short man headed behind the counter, grabbed a small coffee cup and filled it with high test. “What can I get you?”

“Something strong.”

“What size? Medium okay?” Bob held up a paper cup. 

“Yeah.”

Bob filled the medium cup with dark roast and handed it to Micah. “So you’re a friend of Peevy?” The short man sat down at the table across from Micah.

“Ex-boyfriend.” Micah reached in his back pocket for his wallet, but he opened it upside-down. Cash and credit cards tumbled to the floor. He chased down his scattered dollars and plastic.

Bob yelled, “Didn’t know it was a lover’s spat, Peevy. Do you still want me to toss him out?”

“Yes!” Peevy poured coffee for a female customer. Three more customers waited in line.

“In a bit. I want to find out what kind of man turns you on.”

Another empty paper coffee cup, this one medium-sized, bounced off the short man’s balding head.

Micah jumped when the paper cup flew by while he was returning his wallet to his pocket. He nearly lost his money again. He placed a fifty-dollar bill on the table and slid it across to Bob.

Bob raised his eyebrows at the fifty. “Is finding Peevy in your favorite coffee shop the reason you look so down?” He raised his voice when he said Peevy’s name.

“Didn’t know she was here. And I’ll get back to you on my favorite coffee shop.”

“Depends on the quality of the brew and the friendliness of the crowd?”

“Yeah. It takes time, but if the rest of your menu is as good as this coffee, I’ll be back.”

“Next time, don’t look so down when you come in.”

“Sorry. I had a bad night.” Micah sipped the brew.

“Want to talk about it.”

“No. You can hear about it on the news.”

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