By jim vecchio
Police Detective Geiger waved the portly cowboy into the tiny room, shutting the door. There was precious little space beyond a small wooden table surrounded by three chairs.
A tall, bushy haired man in a plain black suit was seated in one of the chairs. He had a tape recorder, note paper, and pen in front of him. Geiger and the cowboy each took one of the other chairs.
"This man is Sergeant Edward Mars," explained Geiger to the Cowboy.. "He is here to assure procedures and policies are followed. This is an extremely confidential session, as I promised. Would you state your name for the record?"
"C'mon, Geiger, you know who I am!"
Geiger's tone sharpened. "For the record!"
"Wendigo. Oliver Wendigo."
"Mister Wendigo, would you repeat your story, please?"
"All's I know is he has her. He took her. He came out the back door and grabbed her. I drew it in my sketchbook just as soon as I could."
The Cowboy pulled a small rolled-up pad from his pocket and handed it to Geiger. Geiger and Mars examined it. Mars gave it a curious look.
"I'm no artist, you know," said the Cowboy.
It was just a charcoal sketch on white paper, showing a hand obscured by darkness tugging the ten year old girl forward. It could have been any girl, but this one's hair was wind-tossed, revealing a small red cross on her neck. There was also something odd about the background.
"I also heard her screams," said the Cowboy.
Geiger and Mars perused the sketch, exchanging grim nods.
Mars, who had never met this Cowboy previously, asked, ", "Mister Wendigo, just when did you witness this incident?"
"Last night," the cowboy replied, "In my dream."
"Your dream?"
"Geiger will tell you. Sometimes, well, sometimes I see things."
Geiger turned to Mars and whispered, "Remember the Callahan case. He triggered Joel Cowan for us!"
"But Callahan was found dead!"
"I didn't say he was good," said Geiger, "just that he knows certain things we don't!"
Mars stood, produced a set of handcuffs, and placed it on the Cowboy's wrist. "It's my duty to inform you that you are under arrest, Mister Wendigo. You have the right..."
"I know my rights!" screamed Wendigo. "Why are you doing this to me?"
Mars replied, ", "Because only four people knew of her cross-shaped birthmark- Irene herself, her mom, Geiger, and me!"
As he was led away, Wendigo continued from the hallway, "So a couple of small scratch marks on a piece of paper are enough to brand me a kidnapper, or possibly a murderer?"
When he was gone, Geiger turned to Mars with a quizzical look. "Are you prepared for formal charges?"
"No. Not Wendigo. But I believe he knows something. We can keep him on suspicion for a bit, and, nothing arising, we'll let him go and see what happens next."
Geiger added, "Good. Good. Because there's something odd about that drawing, and I want to find out more about it."
Mars looked puzzled this time and said, "Oh yeah! That strange figure in the background, sort of a triangular background. But what is it? And what's that figure?"
Geiger finally figured it out. "Rather crudely drawn, but it's a...goat...A goat standing on a hill!"
It's been awhile since I posted a chapter. Thus far, there were three chapters posted. However, for some unexplainable reason, Chapter One drifted into another space-time continuum, and could be found nowhere on the site. I located my rough draft and pieced it together to re-post the first chapter.
Chapter Four will come soon.
By jim vecchio
Characters:
Oliver Wendigo, known as Cowboy, who is gifted with visions, not of his own control
Police Detective, Art Geiger, who previously worked with Wendigo on a case.
Sergeant Edward Mars
Cowboy was granted a vision of a young girl’s abduction, but not the face of the perpetrator. There was a blurry background image of a goat on a hill.
Chapter Two
Geiger took out his key and opened the holding cell, freeing the cowboy from his temporary imprisonment.
“Sorry, cowboy,” he said.
Wendigo responded, “Yeah, I know. You had to put on a show for Mars!”
“You got it!” Geiger smirked. “I had to make it look good!”
The cowboy’s face turned grim. “Just don’t let it happen like last time. You held me up once too often, and Cowan was found dead.”
“Can I help it if those blasted visions of yours always interweave present with past or future?”
“That’s just the way they appear to me.”
“Well, cowboy, where to now?”
“To my usual first resort. Bradbury at the Bishop Room.”
The Bishop Room was the center of Bridgeport Libraries historical archives. What couldn’t be found in those archives, Bradbury could be counted on to know.
Bradbury was a dapper, bewhiskered gent in a fashionable vest and a polka-dot bow tie.
The two filled them in on their quest.
Bradbury pondered a moment and said, “I believe I have a map that will nicely meet your needs!”
From an old file, he drew out a historical map of Bridgeport.
“We just never had the funds to convert these to microfiche,” he explained.
He pointed to a section of land near the south end of the city.
“Gentlemen” he said, “This is Bridgeport in 1836. This section of the city, at that time, relied on fishing and farming, long before the city became a center for industry.”
“Farming, eh?” questioned Geiger, “Then that would entail livestock.”
“Oh, yes,” answered Bradbury, “therefore, the possibility of goats. And uncleared, hilly land.”
Exiting, Geiger turned to Wendigo.
“Looks like we begin our search in the city’s south end.”
The two paused by Geiger’s car.
Wendigo said, “You drive if you like. I need to walk!”
“But it’s a good four miles.”
“I know, but if my footprints step anywhere near his prints, I may get a message.”
“Okay, then, have it your way. Meet me by the old wooden bridge.”
Geiger was there, waiting in his car for quite a spell when the cowboy showed up. He asked outrightly, “Turn up anything?”
“Yeah. A horse!”
“Great Jiminy Crickets!” shouted Geiger, “First a goat. Now a horse!”
The cowboy continued, “Only this horse, somehow it didn’t look real. And I saw people. Faded people in the background. Dancing.”
“The horse was the vision in front?”
“No. both were sort of in the background. Oh, yeah, the song. It was an old tune. I heard it in my mind. Something I never heard before..."
“But, cowboy, what image did you see in front?”
He stared at Geiger, wide eyed. “This old bridge!”
"Then, it looks like this is where we begin our adventure..."
The gifts and calling of God are without repentance.
| Author Notes |
By jim vecchio
Characters:
Oliver Wendigo, known as Cowboy, who is gifted with visions, not of his own control, It was revealed his visions are often mingled with one or more past and/or future visions in the background.
Police Detective, Art Geiger, who previously worked with Wendigo on a case.
Sergeant Edward Mars
Last time: Seeking a kidnapped young girl, Wendigo and Geiger searched Bridgeport’s South End. Wendigo revealed a vision of his concerning an unreal horse, with people dancing to an old tune in the background.
Meanwhile, CHAPTER THREE begins in the West End of the city.
Anna Karena had no brother named Stepan. She had no lover, like Count Alexei Kirrllovich, particularly Alex Bronsky, from the WNAB newsroom, and no husband such as Alexeo Karenin.
Yet, for her TV News persona, she selected the name, Karenina. It smacked of elegance and intrigue.
Bronsky was having one of his usual disputes with Karenina.
“Why aren’t you satisfied with reading my copy in the Newsroom? You’ve become a prominent figure here, Anna.”
“It’s Karenina. And I want to do investigative reporting.”
“Just like every comedian wants to do tragedy. And vice versa.’
“Look, Alex, we got a story out there and I’m going to follow it and that’s that!”
“Just make sure you come back in one piece, An-I mean, Karenina!”
Alex knew he couldn’t talk Anna out of anything when her mind was made up. He sure couldn’t nursemaid this strong-willed woman. Yet, he vowed to do whatever he could to protect her, if only this newsroom did not keep him so chained to his desk.
The kidnapping of the Winslet girl continued to make front page headlines. Anna was bound and determined to insert her name in this story and prove her worth to the newsroom in a radically new light.
Her first instinct was to go to the girl’s mother, but ongoing police presence deterred her from it. Right now, any more intrusion might impact on the young girl’s safety.
She’d bide her time, wait for the right moment.
She had no real starting point, yet the whole city could be holding secrets. She needed someplace quiet, someplace to think things out. Anything but the newsroom.
Whenever she needed thinking room, she always found herself at the abandoned stretch of land over the South Side Bridge. She had plenty of room to walk, to think, to formulate.
Driving over the rickety old bridge, she saw the car driven by Geiger. She parked alongside, exited, and followed their visible trail to a splintery old platform. The two were standing by it.
Geiger instantly recognized Anna as Karenina, the local news reporter.
“This is the site of the old merry-go-round,” she said.
“Yeah,” said Geiger. “And you’re awful grown up and many years late to buy a ticket.”
Wendigo tipped his hat and shook her hand.
“Nice seeing you again, cowboy!” she said.
“Karenina’s okay,” said Wendigo. “I’ve helped her before. Usually, she’s behind a desk.”
“I’ve decided to broaden my horizons,” she smirked.
Geiger spoke sternly. “Any information you gather, anything you report, has to be filtered through me.”
“Of course. Now, if you’ll just tell me what you two are doing here…”
Wendigo explained the situation to her. “I figure the horse image was that of a carousel horse, like the ones that used to be here.”
Anna asked, “And the music?”
Geiger jumped into the conversation. “There used to be an old dance hall here. You know, where couples slow danced, actually touched one another, and fell in love.”
“The music you heard,” replied Karenina. “What was the song?”
“I don’t know, “ said Wendigo. “It went something like this: da-da-dum dum da duh duh dum…Oh, I don;’t know.”
“You sure are no singer, cowboy!” she laughed.
“Never claimed to be,” said Wendigo.
“Well,” said Geiger, “Looks like we hit a dead end.”
“Maybe not,” said Karenina, “Just follow me. I think I know someone who could help us.”
Geiger and Wendigo followed Karenina’s auto. She parked in front of an apartment that had gone into disrepair a couple of decades earlier.
“The elevator stopped working awhile back,” Karenina said.
She led them up a flight of dirt-caked stairs to a faded red doorway.
She politely knocked two times, pausing, then three more.
“Come in, Karenina,” said the voice.
“It’s my special knock,” she explained.
The three walked in.
“Mister Curtis,” she said, “These are two friends, Arthur Geiger and Oliver Wendigo.”
“Come in,” said the old man, “Sorry I have nothing to offer you.”
“They have something to offer you,” explained Karenina, “in the form of a question.”
Then, she explained to Geiger and Wendigo, “This, gentlemen is the legendary Ray Curtis, one of the pioneers of WNAB. He used to do the Top Hit Parade show. No one knows old music like Mister Curtis does!”
“Of course,” Curtis said, “Those were the days when dancers gracefully moved and you could hum to the melodies!”
Karenina spoke to Wendigo, “Please hum that tune.”
Wendigo again da da dum duh dahed.
“Woo!” said Curtis, “You sure ain’t no singer!”
“Now, where have I heard that before?” replied Wendigo.
Karenina pleaded, “Can you tell us anything about that tune?”
Curtis said, “Well, it’s not a reasonable facsimile, but offhand, I’d say, it’s a Tommy Dorsey Fox Trot.”
“Does it have a name?” asked Karenina.
“Swing High,” said Curtis.
“Great Scorched Cats!” screamed Geiger, “Are we supposed to check all the children’s swing sets across the city?”
PSALM 31:17: She sets about her work vigorously; her arms are strong for her tasks.
Continued soon
| Author Notes |
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By jim vecchio
| Author Notes |
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