Column III Fran Kipp Brenda Joan Tony |
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That same afternoon Alison Parker had a date with Brenda Paxson to go shopping for clothes for Alison—warm things to wear in the cold East Coast fall and winter. That morning Alison had had fun planning the stores they would visit and the money they would spend. Alison’s mother had given her a gold credit card with the dangerous instruction to buy what she needed. To Alison that was the next thing to heaven. Yet as Alison drove toward Brenda’s house, she was far from a happy camper. She was dismayed by Tony’s reaction to her leaving. She thought he was being immature about the whole matter. He wasn’t acting at all like the guy she had fallen in love with. That Tony had been as cool as an unlit candle and as secure as a rock. This new guy was clinging to her like an emotional cripple. Sure, he was going to miss her. She was going to miss him. But life was like that. People had to go their separate ways sometimes. It didn’t mean they had to break up. God, she hoped not. She wasn’t interested in anybody except Tony. Even when he was in one of his moods, he was still pretty right on, and he was the only guy she had ever really cared about. She had been dying to hold him earlier, but he had walked out on her. He could be really weird at times.
Brenda was standing outside her house, watering the lawn, when Alison drove up. She had a red bow in her shiny blond hair and ass-kissing black shorts that showed off her lithe figure. She seemed to be happy, and Alison hoped she was. Brenda wouldn’t be starting college with the rest of them. Her parents were having financial difficulties, and she had to work to help out. She was currently employed by a shipping company and making good money. She didn’t seem to mind the work, and Alison wondered if Brenda wasn’t relieved to be taking a break from studying. Brenda had never been one to hit the books.
“You’re early,” Brenda called, throwing down the running hose on the lawn. “I haven’t had a chance to change.”
Alison climbed out of her car and brushed her hair back. It was a warm day, but windy. It had taken her an hour to drive to her friend’s house from her own. They had grown up around the block from each other, but Alison’s family moved to a new housing tract just weeks before the two girls graduated from high school. The tract had been practically deserted back in June, and it had been there that Neil, in the guise of the Caretaker, had attacked her.
Poor Neil, she thought. He’d been so sick at the time.
Better not think about him. She knew Tony still did, which was probably a big part of his problem with her leaving. Neil had been Tony’s best friend, and best friends were not easy to replace.
“You’re dressed as well as you want to be,” Alison said, walking toward her own best friend. “You love nothing better than sliding around the mall scantily clad.”
Brenda turned off the hose. “Really, Ali, I think I have more dignity than that.”
“If you do, you keep it well hidden.”
Brenda wiped her hands on her shorts and reached for her sneakers, which were sitting on the front porch. “And what was Miss Conservative doing just before she drove over to pick up her loose friend? Enjoying carnal pleasures with her boyfriend perhaps?”
Alison felt her face fall, although she tried her best to hold it up. “No,” she said softly. “Not really.”
Brenda was instantly alert to the change in her tone. “Did you and Tony have a fight?” she asked, concerned.
Alison put a hand to her head. It was handy place for it—a moment later she was wiping away a tear. “He’s mad at me,” Alison said sadly. “I don’t know—maybe I shouldn’t leave. In a way I don’t want to.”
“That’s nonsense,” Brenda said, slinging an arm around her friend’s shoulder. “Going to NYU is a dream come true for you. Tony’s just got to grow up and understand that he doesn’t own you.”
“But he’s right, I could go to UCLA. They have a fine drama department, and then we could still see each other.” She sniffed. “Maybe I am only thinking of myself.”
“You have to think about yourself,” Brenda said, turning once more for her shoes. “Now, I’m going to say something and don’t take it wrong. What if you do decide to stay here, and Tony and you break up in six months?”
“We’re not going to break up,” Alison said quickly.
“But what if you do? People do, you know. Then what? You’ll be mad as hell at Tony and yourself for ruining your big chance. You’ll have thrown it away and gotten nothing in return. Take my advice, sister, and go to New York and find a new boyfriend there.”
Alison shook her head. “You don’t understand. I love Tony.”
Brenda sat to tie her shoelaces. “So what? I love Kipp. That doesn’t mean I let him run my life. Don’t get me wrong. I like Tony. He’s a babe, and he’s got manners. But we’re young. We’re going to be in love dozens of times before it’s all over.”
Alison raised her eyes to peer at the sky, through the thin haze of smog that hung over the city. Everything Brenda said made sense. Yet it felt wrong. Alison lifted an arm to shield her eyes from the glare.
“There’s only one sun,” Alison said with feeling. “It’s always the same, but it’s always the best. Do you know what I mean?”
Brenda snickered at the sentiment as she finished her shoes. “Guys are a dime a dozen. They come and go like streetcars.”
Alison lowered her hand, her eyes. “Tony’s not a streetcar.”
Brenda changed the subject. “Fran called. She left a message on our machine. She said it was vital I call her immediately. Sounds like Fran, huh? Should I call her before we leave?”
“No.” Alison sighed. “Let’s stop by her house. She might want to come with us.”
“All right,” Brenda said.
· · ·
Fran didn’t answer the door when Alison and Brenda knocked. When they peeked inside, they were surprised that Fran was sitting at the kitchen table. She should have heard them knocking. The L.A. Times lay spread out on the table in front of her.
“Hello?” Brenda said to Fran as Brenda and Alison stepped all the way inside. “Are we in? Are we happy? Is life good?”
Fran didn’t answer. She continued to sit with her face buried in her hands. Fran was often overly emotional, so neither Alison nor Brenda was unduly concerned. Alison crossed to the table and touched Fran on the back.
“It can’t be that bad,” Alison told her.
In response Fran removed her hands from her face and stared at them both with red eyes. Without saying a word, she fished under the paper and withdrew a purple envelope. She held it out with a trembling hand for one of them to take. Alison felt afraid as her eyes fell upon it, even before she realized the envelope was the same color and shape as the ones Neil’s chain letters had been sent in. She forced a laugh.
“Don’t tell me it’s another chain letter?” Alison said.
Fran nodded. Her voice came out like a croak. “Yeah.”
“Let me see that thing,” Brenda snapped, pulling the letter out of Fran’s fingers. She ripped the letter out. Alison peered over Brenda’s shoulder, and they read it together.
My Dearest,
You thought you knew me, but you did not. You thought I was your friend, but I am not. I am the real Caretaker, and I am going to take care of you. Listen closely.
At the bottom of this communication is a list of names. Your name is at the top. What is required of you—at present—is a small token of obedience. After you have performed this small service, you will remove your name from Column III and place it in the box. Once you are in the box, you will stay in the box. Then you will make a copy of this communication and mail it to the individual now at the top of Column III. The specifics of the small service you are to perform will be listed in the classified ads of the Times under Personals—in backward code. The individual following you on the list must receive this letter within three days of today.
Feel free to discuss this communication with the others on the list. Like myself, they are not your friends, but they do know all your sins. Do not discuss this communication with anyone outside the group. If you do, you will anger me.
If you do not perform the small service listed in the paper or if you break the chain of this communication, you will be horribly killed.
Sincerely,
Your Caretaker
Column III Fran Kipp Brenda Joan Tony |
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For a full minute none of them spoke or moved. It was as it had been a few months earlier. They were in the same place. They had the same kind of letter in their hands—the same kind of fear in their hearts. Yet their fear was different, too. Months ago they’d had no idea of the horror that would follow the letter. At first they had thought it might be a joke. Now their fear was based on bitter experience. Yet it would lead them to the same conclusion as before. Brenda was the first to say it out loud.
“This is a bad joke,” she said and crumpled up the letter. Alison stopped her.
“Wait a second,” Alison said, taking it out of Brenda’s hands. “I want to study this thing.”
“What’s there to study?” Brenda asked angrily. “One of the others sent it to scare us. It was probably Joan.”
“What about Kipp?” Alison asked.
“It could have been Kipp,” Brenda was quick to agree. “What did I tell you about guys? They’re a pain in the ass all around. Let’s toss this thing and get to the mall. I’m hungry.”
“It’s not a joke,” Fran whispered.
“Of course it is,” Brenda said, sounding as if she were addressing a small child. “Neil’s dead. He’s not sending any more letters.”
Fran nodded to the paper. “There’s an ad under Personals in there.” Fran trembled. “It’s for me.”
Alison grabbed the paper. It took her only a second to spot the ad. Fran had worked out the code on the empty column beside it. The original ad read: NARFTHGINOTYPPUPRUOYNWORD. Decoded it said:
Drown your puppy tonight, Fran.
Alison’s face twisted in disgust. “This is sick. Kipp wouldn’t place an ad like this.”
Brenda glanced at it and shook her head. “It must have been Joan, then. Anybody who dresses like her has got to be sick.”
“But Joan likes animals,” Alison said. “She has a dog. She wouldn’t want Fran to drown her puppy.”
Brenda was getting exasperated. “Of course Joan doesn’t expect Fran to drown her puppy. She knows Fran isn’t that stupid. She’s just trying to scare us. She has to say something weird.”
Alison stared once more at the letter. It was neatly typed, as Neil’s had been. It was not a photocopy. “I don’t know,” she muttered.
Brenda lost her temper. “What don’t you know? The wording and ideas of this letter are almost identical to the ones Neil sent us. The person who sent this couldn’t even be bothered thinking up something original. It has to be someone in the group. We’re the only ones who knew about the chain letters.”
“Will you quit yelling at me,” Alison said.
“I am not yelling at you!” Brenda yelled.
“Yes, you are,” Fran said.
“Well, if I am it’s your fault,” Brenda yelled at Fran. “Why didn’t you throw this thing away when you got it and not bother us with it? We’ve got stuff to do. We’ve got to go shopping.”
Alison sat down at the table, studying the column of names at the bottom. “How come I’m not on this list?” she asked.
“It doesn’t matter who’s there,” Brenda said impatiently.
“I think it does,” Alison said. “If someone in the group was trying to play a joke on us, then he or she would have known to include my name. They would have known that I had been involved before.”
“Are you saying that the person who sent this letter doesn’t know exactly what happened before?” Fran asked.
“I think it’s possible,” Alison said, and the possibility filled her with dread. If someone outside their group knew even a little about what had happened the summer before, then they were in hot water. After all, they had accidentally run over a man in the desert.
At least, they thought they had run over him. They had been driving blind at night, with their lights out. For all they knew, the man could have been lying dead when they hit him. The man had had no wallet. They had never even been able to identify him. But one thing was for sure, they had buried him, and they hadn’t told the police about it, and that was a punishable crime.
“Doesn’t this discussion strike any of you as familiar?” Brenda asked. “We had it a couple of months ago. We thought the letter must be from someone in the group, but then we figured it couldn’t be one of us ’cause it was too weird. Well, it turned out to be Neil, and he was with us that night. It’ll be the same this time.”
“Are you saying someone else in the group has gone insane?” Fran asked.
“Yes,” Brenda said. “You and Alison for believing this garbage.”
Alison stood. “We have to call the others. Let’s call Kipp and Tony.”
“I’d call Joan first myself,” Brenda said. “She’ll probably bust up laughing.”
“I don’t want to call Joan,” Alison said. Tony had gone out a few times with Joan before he had started to date her. Joan had never forgiven her for stealing the guy she considered to be her boyfriend. It was all absurd—Tony said he hadn’t even made out with Joan.
Alison set the letter beside the phone and dialed Tony’s number. She got his voice mail. She didn’t leave a message. She tried Kipp’s number. Tony had said something earlier about going over to see Kipp. But she got Kipp’s voice mail as well. She left a message for him to call her. She didn’t say anything about the chain letter. She called Tony back and left a similar message on his voice mail. Then, reluctantly, she tried Joan. She got another voice mail. The world was full of them. She left a message for Joan to call ASAP.
“I think we should wait here until we get one of them on the phone,” Alison said, setting the receiver down.
“What?” Brenda complained. “We’re going to blow out the rest of the day because of a stupid letter? Give me a break. If you’re not going to the mall, I am. Give me your car keys.”
“No,” Alison said. “You’re going to shut up and sit here and wait with Fran and me. This letter may be a joke. It probably is. But it might be serious, and if it is, we have to stick together. That’s what we learned last time. All right?”
Brenda sat down with a big huff. “I didn’t learn anything last time—except to stay away from the mailbox.”
It may have been a coincidence, or the dog may have been psychic and known he was being discussed. In either case, Fran’s puppy suddenly ran into the kitchen and began to lick his master’s hands. Fran reached down and patted the cute little brown cocker spaniel on the head. An anxious smile touched her lips.
“It must be a joke,” Fran said. “No one could want Barney dead. No one could think I’d actually drown him.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” Alison replied. But a chill went through her as she thought about what Fran had just said. Alison stared at the letter again. The small service was absolutely unthinkable. Perhaps this Caretaker wasn’t the least bit interested in seeing Barney dead. Maybe he was only interested in having an excuse to harm Fran.
