A Fly in the Ointment
“Don’t you dare, Black Cat!” Kat swung her leg to the left as BC lunged. He planted all fours on the plank flooring Kat’s leg recently vacated. “I’m still recovering from your last climbing event.”
The ticky-tap of nails on wood greeted Kat. A shrill bark made her rub her ears. “Glad to see you too, Carnelian. Could you tone it down just a bit?”
Her request was met with an even sharper bark.
“Guess that would be no.” Kat placed her small sack of groceries on the kitchen table, dug to the bottom, and retrieved a can of salmon. “Okay, so don’t tell anyone, but you’re both getting this for dinner.” She dropped to the floor, patted Carnelian’s velvet ears with one hand and scratched BC under the chin with the other. Tears sprang into Kat’s eyes. “I have to leave for a while. I want you to know I wouldn’t if I didn’t have to.”
BC bumped her leg with his head. Carnelian gave a soft whine and put her chin on Kat’s knee.
“I promise I’ll be back really soon. I promise.”
“Hey, why the tears?” said Ken.
Kat wiped her eyes. “I don’t want to leave these guys.”
“They’ll be in good hands. You know Doctor Douglas is the best—and Wendy will be there to visit as much as she can.”
“She’ll be there a lot since she really likes talking to Carl.”
“When is the romance ever going to take off?”
“A question for the ages, I believe,” Kat answered.
“Well are you packed?”
“Almost. We don’t leave until day after tomorrow. Why the rush?”
“Just making sure you aren’t bugging out on me.”
“I’m not. Besides, someone has to keep an eye on Grandma. And you two guys aren’t the ones to do it.”
“Oh yee of little trust!”
“More like yee of knowledge of Bart and Ken.”
Ken’s phone chirped. “What?”
“I said someone broke into the old Covenant Church,” Bart barked.
Ken sighed. “I’ll be right there,” and hung up.
Kat said, “Be right where?”
“The old church.”
“Bart and I were just there. It was fine.”
“Well, it’s not now. Been vandalized. Broad daylight, too.”
“I’m coming because I haven’t been able to shake the feeling I needed to get into the church. I found myself trying to open the door earlier today. Like I was in some kind of weird trance. It called to me. Crazy, huh?”
“On the surface. More of a reason for you to stay here.”
“Or, why I should come along.”
“Fine. Feed those two. I’ll meet you in the car.”
Ken parked the navy blue SUV behind Bart’s faded and dented pickup. He stared into the gaping black hole where the heavy wood door had been.
“Someone really wanted in.” Kat jumped down and trotted up the sidewalk.
Ken grabbed her arm before she started up the steps. “Slow down. And put these on your feet.” He gave her a pair of blue booties.
Kat stared at the shoe coverings, then raised her eyes to Ken’s. “Fine.”
“I said you could come along, I didn’t say you could tromp all over the crime scene and contaminate it. If you’re going to complain about this, go get a cup of coffee. Go visit Wendy. Do anything except come inside. When we’re done, I’ll let you know.”
Kat straightened her shoulders. “I put the stupid booties on, didn’t I? Let’s go.” She stepped into the black cavern, pulled out her flashlight, and turned it on. Straight-backed pews, lining either side of the aisle, came into focus. A white stone altar rose three feet above the stage. Kat felt like something grabbed her arm and tugged her forward.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Ken pointed his flashlight in Kat’s direction.
“To the front.”
Bart appeared in a doorway directly off the auditorium. “I was beginning to think you were lost.”
“No such luck,” Kat quipped.
“Man, you’re already married. You couldn’t say no to her?”
Ken bristled. “I didn’t think it would do any harm. An extra pair of eyes is always good. How far have you gotten in your search?”
“Only the basement’s left.”
Kat moved to the front of the church. “You guys want to see this.”
Bart directed his flashlight to the chalk outline where the bodies of Reverend Plotno and Anita Connor had lain. Moisture filled the silhouette, its thin tendrils snaking toward the ceiling. An invisible barrier contained the mist inside the lines, enhancing the macabre shape of a body.
“It’s back,” Ken said, “the evil has returned. This town was peaceful for a year. I hoped to God it would be forever more.” Ken shook his head and looked at Bart. “Hoped we’d seen the last of the unexplainable.”
“Well, maybe it is explainable. What is that liquid?”
Ken reached into his pocket and retrieved a plastic bag with a swab and vial. “One way to find out.” He swabbed the liquid, placed it in the vial and shook the contents. The swab stayed white as a pearl. “Not blood.” Ken handed the vial to Bart.
“Could have fooled me. It’s the right color.”
Kat shivered, remembering Reverend Plotno and the librarian, Anita, lying together at the base of the altar. Blood splattered the stone table. Plotno’s back looked like raw hamburger. Anita’s mutilated eyes stared blankly at the ceiling. “Some things just don’t go away,” Kat whispered.
“What do you mean?” Bart asked.
“Liquid doesn’t just suspend in midair. It’s defying the law of gravity.” Kat pointed at the streams of the red stretching up, then shooting like bloody bullets toward the ceiling.
“Gives a whole new definition to the term watering hole, now doesn’t it?” Bart said.
“No time for jokes,” Ken answered. “Let’s take a look around and see if we can find out what’s going on.”
The trio climbed the narrow staircase leading to the choir loft. Dust floated in the subdued light filtered by a round, stained glass window. Hymnals lay open atop metal stands, as if a ghostly choir would be arriving any moment to sing.
“This place gives me the creeps,” Kat said.
“It is unsettling,” Ken agreed. “It’s like the congregation could walk in and start up again at any time. Why didn’t this place ever get cleaned out and sold or something?”
“Two violent murders, a place where the devil was worshipped as a god…, oh you know, the typical too much baggage,” Bart answered.
“Bad mojo.” Ken leaned down and picked up a small Raggedy Ann doll. “Makes you wonder who this belonged to and if she’s still in Ravens Cove, or even alive for that matter.”
“We lost so many.”
Bart turned on his heel. “Let’s go to the church office.”
The trio made their way into the warm-paneled room. Books sat on espresso-colored shelves. Kat pointed her flashlight at the dark oak desk. A calendar from 1998 lay open. “October 12, the day Plotno died. Creepier and creepier,” she whispered.
Ken pointed to the ground. “Nobody’s been in here. The floor is covered in dust. We would see the footsteps.”
“You’re right. I haven’t seen any footprints. How did they do that?”
“Don’t know. The only thing damaged is the front door.”
“Let’s not forget the chalk outline filled with gravity-defying fluid.”
“Noted.”
“Let’s take a look at the basement.” Ken yanked on a door next to the late reverend’s desk. The darkness continued to loom ahead of him.
Bart, Ken and Kat picked their way down the two-by-four steps to a concrete floor.
Ken turned his flashlight to a circular stone structure on the back wall. “What’s that?”
“Looks like an old well,” Bart answered.
“In a basement? Why?”
“The church is built on the foundation of a 19th century hotel. Makes this basement over 100 years old. Maybe how they did it back then.”
Kat walked over to the well. “I wouldn’t drink this water.”
Ken joined her and stared into the murky darkness. “The smell alone would warn a body off.” He pointed his flashlight into the depths. A shiny round object glinted in the light.
“What’s in the water?” Kat asked.
As if on command, the white ball rolled 180 degrees to face Ken and Kat. Kat jumped backwards, threw her hand over her mouth and headed for the stairs.
Ken turned to Bart. “Get Billings on the phone. We’ve got another body.”
Doc Billings peeked over the rough rocks of the well. “Not a corpse. It’s a skeleton.”
“I imagine an autopsy is out of the question,” Bart quipped.
“If we’re lucky, we’ll get DNA from the medical examiner’s office in Anchorage—if we’re lucky.”
“How long do you think it’s been there?” Kat asked.
“No longer than 20 years I’d say from the fairly new shoe floating next to the skull. Must be made out of some tough material.”
“It’s something,” Bart said.
“Not much,” Ken answered.
“How are you going to get the skeleton out of there?” Doc Billings asked.
“Think we can use a fishnet and a wench set up of some kind. One of us is going to have to climb down and position the thing.”
“Ewww. I’m out,” Kat said.
“Well, you guys draw straws or something, and I’ll be back with a body bag.”
Bart smiled at Ken. “Not me, brother. I’m the mayor. This is a job for the police chief. I’ll go get my rope ladder and a fishnet. We can use the town’s bucket pole as a wench.”
“I miss the FBI.”
“Yeah, you had grunts to do this kind of work, didn’t you? Nothing like a small town police force.” Kat slapped Ken on the shoulder.
“Kat, would you get my waders out of the SUV? Luckily, I haven’t taken them out after the summer fish run.”
“Will do.” Kat disappeared up the stairs.
Ken stared into the murky water and into the empty sockets of the skull. “Who are you? Where did you come from? How long have you been here?”
“All good questions,” A watery voice answered.
Ken stumbled backwards and caught himself on the rock foundation, softening his fall.
Kat ran back down the stairs when she heard the thud. “What happened?”
“That thing”—Ken pointed to the well—“talked to me.”
Kat walked over to the well and looked at the grinning skull. The smile widened as she took in the white bone glinting in her flashlight. She turned and scurried over to Ken. “Not natural!”
Ken shook his head. “Not at all.”
“So what?”
“Don’t know. I’ll be treating it like a homicide until I’m convinced otherwise.”
“But… The trip?”
Ken stood and held up a hand. “Not a word. Not one word.” He took Kat’s arm and guided her up the stairs.