Old Miss Gracing by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview
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Chapter 18
Zeke was able to grab her right hand with both of his and said; “Miss Gracing, it’s Zeke! What’s wrong?” She dropped the scissors to the floor and threw her arms around him, holding him and weeping.
She pulled him inside and said; “I’m so glad you’re here.
I need an angel.”
He half joked; “Did you want to kill him?”
“You know I’m sorry. Someone has been coming to the door saying he was going to kill me slowly.”
Zeke was astounded and silent for a while, then said; “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” she said loudly, a bit annoyed that he questioned her testimony. “I’ve seen him twice.”
“Did you call the police?”
“I can’t. He knows something about me that could cause me a lot of trouble.”
“Do you want to tell me what?” Zeke suspected that he might know the answer.
“Maybe later. He has been here four times that I know of.
The two times I saw him he was wearing a skeleton and a snake costume.”
“And he said he was going to kill you?”
In a raised, distraught voice she said; “Yes, among other things.”
“Did he do that to your face?”
“Yes, last visit.”
“He’s a nut.”
“Tell me about it.”
Calmer now with one of her best friends, she went to the stove to make tea and said; “You’ve had a long trip. So what’s new and interesting in your life?”, then laughed at the absurdity of her commentary. She decided to continue on the unusual direction feeling that she needed a subject change.
Zeke felt silly talking about himself under the circumstances. After some thought he said; “I’ve learned that I should call ahead for appointments. Surprises can be dangerous.” He gave her a genuine laugh, paused again, then added;
“I don’t know. The same old stuff everybody goes through, most likely.” Then he got more animated and said; “Oh, yeah. The big thing is that Morrigan is pregnant.”
“Great. Are you ready to be a good father?”
“Oh, sure.” He paused, still uncomfortable talking about himself, then added; “Well, yes and no. I’m not making any kind of money from writing.”
“Have you received an eviction notice?”
“No.”
“Does Morrigan mind?”
“No, she’s so sweet. That’s the biggest reason I feel guilty.”
“Well, maybe you ought to take a note from her.”
“That’s the easy way. I want to do something for her.”
She said; “Do you enjoy writing?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t you remember what I taught you in kindergarten?
Keep writing if you like it. Besides, there’s more potential with that than digging fence posts in New Mexico.”
He smiled. “You always make it so simple.”
She held up her right index finger saying; “But, get me a copy of some of your stuff. You can get a free near-professional critique.”
Zeke again felt selfish and absurd talking about himself and being given help, when she was the one with the real problem. He took her hand, looked into her eyes and plaintively said; “Thanks, I look forward to it. But, what are we going to do about you right now?”
“If I knew I’d have done it already. Wait a minute. Now that you’re added to the equation, the possibilities increase.
This person knows things about me from a half century ago. It could mean that he’s as old as I am and no match for you.” Zeke felt flattered but also afraid that the nut might not be a
feeble old man. Regardless, he knew he had to help the person who had done so much for him, so he tried to forget that he had not had a fight since he was five years old. He flexed his right arm and said; “I’m your man,” hoping that she wouldn’t detect any doubt in his voice. She looked out her lone window to see a black starless sky. She put on a few more lights and just looked at Zeke. She remembered the crying five year old she first met. “Tell me, are you still a crybaby?”
“Only when I get sent to school.”
“Well, after I read some of your works, you might be required to attend some classes.”
He laughed, reached out and he held the fingers of her left hand with those of his right, looked into her eyes and then broke away saying; “I make exceptions for classes held by you.”
She put on the television. Neither noticed what was on.
She was proudly reflecting on the memories she had acquired over the years with Zeke and Morrigan. He was thinking about how one goes about getting rid of a dangerous nut, without involving the police. “Miss Gracing, please tell me why you don’t want police involvement.”
She decided to tell a short version of the story. “I was in a psychiatric institution many years ago and I escaped.”
The “Boston” magazine story went through his mind, but seeing this woman he loved so much, coupled with the many years
of pleasant memories, he couldn’t picture her a murderess or a psychiatric case. Incredulous, he said; “When was that?”
“About 53 or 54 years ago.”
He said; “What can they do about it now?” As soon as he said it, he hoped it didn’t sound as if he were having second thoughts about being her white knight.
She sensed what he hoped she didn’t and said; “I killed my first husband. He was extremely abusive and I thought that he might kill me. I was sentenced to life in the ‘Salem Institution for the Criminally Insane.’ I escaped in two years.”
Even though he heard it directly from her, in her presence and looking at her, he still had trouble believing what he wondered about back in New Mexico. He certainly didn’t want to visualize her suffering. Zeke forced himself to accept that he had the answer to the question he had brought with him which he expected to have difficulty bringing up. He said; “Miss Gracing, I’ve read the old ‘Boston’ magazines. I collect them.
I saw that story and thought she looked a lot like you.”
“You may as well forget the Miss Gracing stuff and call me
‘Bonnie.’ I’m Bonadea Carson.”
Everything fell right in place for him and he was solidified in the course of action she needed and focused on a modus operandi. If someone had information about and a grudge
against Bonnie he’s likely to be her age and if not he’d cross that bridge when he got to it. I can surprise whoever it is, as he now assumes Bonnie is alone. He said; “Bonnie, I think that the nut is someone your age and so, hey, I’m 26 and I should be able to take him out easily.” He hoped his voice exuded the confidence he thought she needed to hear.
“What if he’s armed, like with knives?” and she pointed at her face. She continued; “Or a gun.”
Zeke didn’t have time to think about it, as they heard a noise in the hallway. She grabbed her scissors. He put his hand on hers and said; “Gimme.”
Castor had already changed into his sad-faced clown jersey, consisting of a red and white checkerboard pattern on the bulky shirt and pants, not realizing how apropos it was. His yellow plushy boots did not copy the blackness of his long gloves, one holding a hunting knife. His plastic motionless white plastic mask exhibited the usual pasty white clown face decorated with black paint for eyes, each crossed by black vertical lines, suggesting tears. His four inch thick bright red lips were curved into an absurd demonic smile. The shocks of green hair of different lengths that protruded from the top of his head concluded this evening’s uniform.
He called out; “Bonadea, tonight you will see the humor in it all.” He screamed in a falsetto voice; “Time for Milton Berle. Time for well-deserved torture.”
Zeke peeked through the keyhole and quickly noticed the knife. He thought; “No gun. No problem.” He stood by the door and gave the scissors back to Bonnie saying; “If I don’t put him out of his misery quickly, you do it with these while we’re fighting.”
The crying clown got to the door and said; “Open up Mrs.
Courtney and receive your funny message.” Zeke pulled the door open and used his left hand to grab the clown’s right, the knife hand. As the crying, surprised dichotomy pushed the knife forward from a waist position he put a deep cut between Zeke’s thumb and forefinger. Zeke’s right fist bounced off his inflated head, knocking him back. Zeke then used both hands to twist the clown’s right arm, forcing him to drop the blade. He landed his fist on the huge red lips and the amusing one landed on his back. He was motionless, but the bleeding knight landed another right to the ridiculous lips and said; “Bonnie, get me some rope.”
Zeke tightly tied his nemesis’ hands and feet and then made two further attachments to the hallway’s wooden banister, at the neck and stomach levels, leaving Lips in a sitting position. He threw the hunting knife into the apartment and said; “Call 911.”
Bonnie said; “You’re bleeding badly. Let me find you something for it.” She went into the bathroom and retrieved some gauze pads. Zeke jammed them into the cut and held it tightly with his right hand. He said; “Bonnie, come on. Call 911. Say there’s an armed robbery in progress.” Bonnie went to make the call as she saw no alternative. She didn’t have the heart to stab the helpless enemy and certainly couldn’t ask Zeke to do it. However, if the cops find out who she is, this could be the end of life as she knew it. She decided to buy time, whatever that was worth, by pretending to make the call, keeping a finger on the phone’s cradle.
Zeke stood near the bound intruder, who eventually roused and surveyed his situation. The current master of absurdity said; “Who are you?”
Zeke said; “None of your business. The cops are on the way.” He took off the clown’s head covering revealing a very unfunny ancient face, which looked more pathetic than ominous, especially with the bloody mouth and bruised cheek. Pathetic, apparently still thought he was in a demanding position and said; “Why are you helping that old witch? She killed my brother.”
Bonnie, only then, knew it was Castor, mostly remembering him for his courtroom antics. Zeke answered him with; “What costume was your brother wearing at the time?”
Castor correctly thought that he would get nowhere with Zeke and did not want to be introduced to the policemen in the inappropriate attire. He jerked and twisted at the ropes and succeeded in cracking through the 80 year old dry wood of the bannisters and fell back. The fall happened in two steps. At first the ropes around his neck hooked on one of the broken bannisters, hanging him as he fell. As the wood again gave way, he went into free-fall, his feet hitting a storage box, which flipped him back over again, his head shattering like a melon on the concrete ground.
No longer fearing the dissemination of deleterious information, Bonnie said; “Make sure he’s dead.” Zeke went down the steps, Bonnie remaining near the top of the stairs and she called out; “Dead?”
“No doubt.”
She then made a real 911 call, while Zeke surveyed the smashed pumpkin, feeling victorious and curious rather than remorseful. He thought; “This one’s departure from the world makes it a better place.”
They heard the sirens of two cop cars, as they double parked on the street in front of the entrance to the alley way.
Bonnie hurried down the steps, so that she could greet the police and hopefully set a tone that Zeke could easily follow.
She brushed by Zeke and opened the door to be met by four cops crouched behind parked cars pointing guns at her.
She said; “I’m Miss Gracing. I’m the one who called.”
One of the cops, Bob Driscoll, recognized her as his former kindergarten teacher and called out; “She’s okay.” The other cops turned their guns down and Bob said; “Miss Gracing, who else is in there?”
“My friend, Zeke and some creep who has been terrorizing me. I think he’s dead.”
Bob said; “Zeke, come on out slowly with your hands up.”
Zeke did as he was told, thinking about how well Bonnie had communicated her story to him, greatly lessening the chance of contradictions when questioned. One of the cops went over and frisked Zeke, found nothing and said; “Okay, stand next to Miss Gracing.” Bonnie and Zeke looked at each other as he went to her side. She gave him a slightly questioning raised eyebrow look, which he returned with a slight bobbing of his head in a
“Yes” manner. One of the cops stood by the two of them while the three others slowly worked their way into the alley, seeing the obviously dead clown’s body and continued on up the stairs and into the apartment. When they found nothing of further interest except the knife and scissors on the floor, someone said; “Call the coroner.”
Zeke and Bonnie (Eloise) were escorted to one of the police cars and taken to headquarters for questioning. The residents of the condos across the street were in their windows, most being annoyed or embarrassed at the dirty doings going on in the old part of town, right in proximity of their gentrification.