By jusylee72
When the idea for a horror, action novel came into my head, I had no idea where it was going.
So, I did what writers need to do. I sat myself down. I started to write. I let my thoughts free. I didn't edit.
After I wrote for about a week, I saw a pattern. I saw resentment, religious conflicts, expected morals, anger, misunderstandings and most of all, a family who survived and loves each other.
I am not talking about one generation. I am talking about many. Words and actions form us in every family. The words become the clay we are created by, molded by, influenced by. We are forced, coerced then eventually choose who we will be.
Once, we become the Mothers and Fathers of our children, we realize we carried our parent's with us.
We love our children, nurture them, protect them. We believe we know what our children need.
"The Physical DNA" grows in their cells. "The Emotional DNA" lives in us. It is transmitted to our children by our daily actions. It is a complex, variety of creation written by out ancestors, but tainted by the events of history. Our ancestors lived different lives in the stone age than they did during Hitler's reign. Humans adjust to the horrors, challenges and joys that became who we are and who we will be.
So, I began a book. There truly was no thought about where it would go, who the characters would be, why it would be about molestation, revenge, serial killing, the Catholic Church.
It was simply a need to write.
The human factor is this: My mother was excommunicated from the Catholic church for marrying my father.
If my Mother had not broken the Catholic Doctrine, if she chose to live by what the priests told her, if she would have listened to her mother, if she didn't trust herself then:
I would not exist.
I would not be writing this.
I would have no sisters.
We would have no children.
None of us would have grand children.
But my Mom married that "Divorced Man" anyway.
That Man who was married before he flew in "World War Two".
That Man who left his wife to serve in war.
That Man who came back to a wife, pregnant by another man.
That Man who was raised by a single mother during the depression.
That Man who had a wonderful voice.
Thar Man who loved to hear me sing.
That Man who I didn't understand.
That Man who I wish I could talk to today.
I do not want to offend any one in the Catholic Church. I know so many faithful, wonderful Catholics who love their religion. I just want to write and this is the result.
Judy
| Author Notes | All religions are good and bad, in my opinion. We have to follow the doctrine we believe to be true in our lives. Religion has been used to do evil things, ( Ruined Native Americans), (The Inquisition), yet has saved lives and helped the needy. I am so happy that my Mother chose to leave the church and marry the wonderful man who became my father. Her family was furious. I barely knew my grand mother. |
By jusylee72
My name is Joe.
I work in a Button factory.
I design buttons.
Vibrant colors,
glimmer and shine,
demure yet refined
pulling together garments.
Serving a purpose society demands.
Sometimes in life.
Sometimes in death.
I picture people who have been,
well let's just say,
not nice to me.
Their lips buttoned shut now.
Chosen especially for them.
For Father Mac,
the priest at my school,
I picked black onyx buttons displaying an inlaid pearl cross.
The blond, stuck up waitress, deserved cheap, glittery fasteners.
For my boss, I picked dull, ugly big buttons illustrating his stupidity
And for my Mother......
______________________________________________________________________
Mary Virginia
The nuns at Our Lady of Guadalupe insisted on calling her by her full name "Mary Virginia".
Jokes began in middle school.
"Virgin", the boys taunted her.
"Can I help you get rid of that "Virgin Image?"
| Author Notes | I started writing this many years ago before I came to Fanstory. I have learned so much since them. I have written nine other chapters that you can find in my portfolio if you wish to keep reading the story. Please let me know anything you don't understand. I am now taking a class called Novel middles and I want to get back to this and keep going. I really need your input. |
By jusylee72
Joe and Cindy
I knew from the time I was twenty that very few girls would ever sleep with me. I was always good with money so I managed to save a certain amount each month for some manly pleasure. At first, I tried the whores who most men want. Long legged, short shorts, low cut, cheesy sluts but they were too quick and never really fulfilling. When I lucked into Cindy my life changed.
Cindy was more of a madam. She took care of the girls. She was almost as old as my Mother which both repulsed and excited me. The first time she offered to come to my house I was hesitant. She was a somewhat demanding woman.
When she came to see me she immediately took over.
"Undress, shower and come back in the living room. I have to see what I am working with, " she ordered. I did as she requested. When I came back in she stared at me, slowly smiled. "You are a gift to women. Rarely do I see such manhood, such virility. If you only knew how to use it."
I started to get excited but she told me, "Wait, you have to learn first."
That evening became the beginning of many lessons. She taught me how to use my fingers. How to use my tongue. How to tantalize and caress. She showed me the small place just inside a woman about the size of a quarter that when manipulated just right made a woman squirm with pleasure, how to fill a woman up with my manhood and make her beg for more.
"Gentle but firm, you know you are in control but all she feels is the pleasure of your body and the intensity of your willingness to give her satisfaction. As she gets close to climax back off just a little, say you need just a little longer then slowly and purposely get out of her, gently place your finger just inside until you find the perfect spot, play with it a little while then when re-entering, press directly on that spot. Always in control, until you feel her contracting, allow yourself to release when she suddenly sighs deeply. Then enjoy the moment and lose control for a few minutes. Afterwards, insist on snuggling and caress her arms slowly."
I treasured each word. Cindy was so patient, so understanding and she would allow me to lead, but stop if I showed weakness. Then she would insist I start over and try again.
But it was the end of each lesson that I loved.
"Go shower again, get dressed and come sit next to me on the couch."
She waited for me, so beautiful in her own way and when I sat next to her, she put her arm sweetly around me, pulled my head onto her shoulder and softly repeated over and over.
"You are my favorite. You will always be my favorite."
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Delaney and Mary
A police car drove Delaney to the crime scene. He hated to have other people drive but there was no choice at the moment.
"Mary, we have places to go. We'll take your car."
Mary didn't drive like a detective. Ten and two on the steering wheel at all times. She started to brake thirty feet from the car in front of her.
'I wonder if she has ever driven over 60 miles an hour. Who is this young girl and why is she doing this?" Delaney couldn't turn off his detective mind. He questioned everything.
It was too early to go to Shorty's, so they decided to go to a diner. They could talk over breakfast.
Her order proved just how much of a Rookie she truly was. She ordered an English Muffin, Coffee, and Orange Juice. He knew he would need the "Supreme" breakfast, three eggs, hash browns, toast, bacon, sausage, and ham. If they got a got a lead today, stopping and eating would be off the agenda. Sometimes, it was the next day before eating became a possibility.
"Did you review the case I sent you?"
Mary felt annoyed by his tone. Delaney obviously didn't know her work ethic yet. Singing Opera, a highly technical and emotional skill, demanded vigilance. She knew numerous languages, different composers, the nuances of each musical era. Her looks and voice might be enough to get her an audition but it was the attention to detail that kept her working. Contrary to most beliefs, stuck-up divas are not welcomed in the professional music world, which is precisely why her husband couldn't keep a job. William thought he was a gift to music instead of realizing music was the gift to him. Mary pursued everything she wanted to do with a perfectionist attitude.
For a brief moment, she thought about her marriage.
"Details, Details." William would repeat those words over and over. If he didn't like the way the dishes were in the dishwasher, he would take them out one by one showing her how they were still dirty.
"I am detail oriented but not when it comes to things I don't care about. If he doesn't like the way I do dishes then he can do them himself." Mary pulled her mind back to the present.
"I have a connection to this case," Mary said.
Surprise filled Delaney's eyes.
"A Connection?"
"Yes, Father John Mac Murphy, the victim. He taught at the Catholic School I went to when I was young."
"What do you know about him?
"He was strict, especially to the girls. He loved to joke with the boys but he seemed to take pleasure in telling the girls all about the sins of the flesh. Some of the girls tried to roll up their skirts to make them shorter, but we knew to pull them down before we went to his class. My friend Elizabeth forgot to pull down her skirt one day. I can never forget what he did to her."
She described it to Delaney as if viewing a movie.
"Sit down," he yelled, ruler in hand. "Put your hands on the desk. This is for your own good."
With each hit of the knuckles, he would spit out vicious accusations.
"Do you want to open your legs so men can know you? That is what you are telling them. Men can't control themselves when they see whores of women flaunting their bodies."
"With each hit, his anger increased. One of Elizabeth's fingers actually broke. I heard it crack. Finally, Elizabeth became brave enough to get up and run out of the school. I wanted to follow her but I was too scared.'
"Her parents withdrew her immediately. I think they filed a lawsuit. I don't know what became of her, I never saw her again."
"I researched Father Mac last night. Several years after I left that school he became Head Master." Mary restrained herself from sarcastically saying the Catholic system rewarded him for his cruelty. "One thing for sure. He always favored the boys."
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Joe
Telling Mother
When I was Twelve I started to figure out what Father Mac Murphy was doing to me was wrong. He started spending less and less time with me. I saw some of the younger boys going towards his office. I can't believe it took me so long to realize how he was using me for some sick pleasure. As I grew, I learned what he was doing with me was sinful. It was wrong in the eyes of the Church. It was wrong in the eyes of the world.
Back then I still had a small belief that my Mother loved me. One night when Mother was being unusually nice to me I told her what he had done.
The slap came seconds afterward.
"How dare you accuse a man of the church of this unspeakable act."
"What the hell are you thinking?"
"I knew you were not meant to live. I even tried to stop it. But the church wouldn't allow it and you were born. You brought me shame then and you still do now."
She slapped me again.
"You will never speak of this again."
And I didn't - until one night with Cindy.
She listened so softly and it calmed me. That night there was no lesson. We just talked. She spoke comforting words and sat with me on the couch. It ended in my favorite way.
"You are my favorite. You will always be my favorite."
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Delaney and Mary finished eating.
"I'm not impressed with the original investigation into Mac Murphy's death." He made sure he hid the fact that Mary, at least so far, seemed to know what she was doing.
He handed Mary a copy of the original report.
"There has to be a reason the school is connected to this. How long has it been since you were at school there?"
"Almost ten years now."
Delaney caught it first. The initial investigation conducted by local cops assumed Mac Murphy, a priest, must be a good guy. They did a cursory investigation of his computer, searched his home, looking for suspects. They found little or nothing on it. Way too little. That bothered Delaney. From what Mary said Mac Murphy might not be without sins of his own. The man was intelligent. He wouldn't have left out in the open incriminating evidence. They didn't take his computer to forensics. They didn't check for hidden walls or hiding places. His computer showed nothing but bible studies. His obvious affection for young boys could lead to other possibilities.
The local investigation never thought to ask"Why" he was the victim.
Be realistic, No man was that innocent. No ugly emails. No pictures of women. Three years before Delaney investigated another priest. He seemed so innocent. He discovered most priests were experts at hiding their carnal side.
"Let's go look at Mac Murphy's apartment."
The priests stayed in a building next to the school. Police tape still blocked the door. The custodian let them in.
They noticed immediately just how clean this place was, impulsively clean.
Even his socks were folded neatly in the drawers. Everything had a place. There were lists everywhere, on his desk, in the bathroom, in the bedroom, the closet. Everywhere, "Rules for living."
The knives and forks were meticulously put in the kitchen drawer. All the same direction, no space between.
Obsessive-compulsive. Excessively neat. Everything has a place. Cleanliness. Lists of rules for himself. So many clues. all missed by non-detective minds.
"Mary", he instructed, "Look for something out of place. Look for something that doesn't seem right."
Mary followed directions. In the bedroom, she noticed a slight discoloration in the paneling on the bedroom wall. One panel was newer than the others. It was a small detail, but once she noticed it. It struck her as odd.
Why would one panel be different than the others? Someone had replaced it.
"Delaney," she called, "I think I have found something."
He agreed. They both fingered the panel. It was loose. Delaney pressed on it, first at the top, then slowly he kept pushing until it popped open. Inside, in a chronological order dated videotapes filled the hidden shelves. Next to the videos were explicit handwritten diaries in beautiful leather bound journals.
Delaney felt sick after reading the first page. The rantings of a pedophile filled book after book. Long narratives portraying stories of abuse covered the pages. Yet, in the authors' voice, the writing was full of loving interactions between men and young boys.
"Look at this self-serving son of a bitch." Delaney couldn't control his language when he spoke about it. "He believed he was called to make young boys know the pleasures of the world. He especially liked the boys without fathers. He could pretend he was teaching them how to be a man."
Mary noticed the dates. The writing started two years before Mary came to the school. The last one was right before Father Mac died.
Great evidence, important night for the investigation yet Delaney knew many more doors or hidden cabinets had to be opened before he had a chance to solve this one. He left the words in his thoughts.
"The man deserved it. Whoever did this might just be a hero."
--------------------------------------------------------------
The next day Delaney was confused. He was trying to fit the two murders together.
The buttons are the only connection. The two crimes are completely different.
Mac Murphy
Priest
Pedophile
Blunt object probably a hammer to the head
Left in the dirt
Frown created by buttons with religious symbols
Waitress
Sexually assaulted
Carved and humiliated
No religious connection
Strangled first, mutilated later
Cleaned meticulously
Gaudy Smile Created by buttons
Delaney searched the archives for button crimes. Nothing came up.
| Author Notes | As I said at the beginning when I first came to Fan story I put up what I had written for'"Buttons". It was well received, some of you told me you couldn't stop reading it. However, you pointed out to me that it was suppose to be one chapter at a time. I think my first listing was at least eight chapters. Now that I know better, I will keep the chapters short enough to move the story along but still be readable in this format. Thank all of you for your support. I will re-post the first part when I get some dollars together. You are a gift to me. |
By jusylee72
After Shorty's there was still time to stop at the church.
A rush of emotion invaded Mary's body as she walked in the sanctuary She hadn't been there in years. She avoided church.
"Was it always this beautiful? Was I just too young to appreciate it?"
She looked around the sanctuary, viewed the beautiful polished wood, the storytelling stain glass. She remembered the statues, the prayer candles, the kneeling rails.
She remembered Sister Margarite.
Sister Margarite was entirely too pretty to be a nun. Her eyes were blue and pure, her smile engaging. Most women need hair to be beautiful, but since her habit covered her hair all you could see was the perfectly shaped face. Even her skin was flawless. It was her heart that was the most engaging.
Margarite would be the one who would run to any child on the playground who fell. She would lovingly help them to the infirmary. She would gently clean the scraped knees, all the while comforting them with soft words of understanding. She watched them as they came back out and joined the others in the games we were playing.
As I child, I was comforted by her. As an adult, I always questioned why she chose the life of a nun. What had hurt her so much that she withdrew from the outside world? Maybe she was truly called like the saint Mother Teresa.
Delaney woke her from her thoughts abruptly. "Where is the office where we can speak to the people in charge?"
"This way. Just follow me." She led him out of the Sanctuary and into the next building. At this point, there had not been a new Head Master appointed. She did not recognize the father that was in the office.
Delaney pulled out his badge and introduced them as investigators.
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Margarite was in the back of the church preparing the candles for Sunday Mass when Delaney and Mary walked in. She had always been quiet. She liked observing people. She often kept her presence unknown when people came to the church. She liked to study them and see why they were there. Some would only pray in silence, some openly talked to god.
She remembered the time a teenage girl came in. Nervous, anxious, afraid of something. She heard her quietly speak to God.
"Father, I have sinned. I don't know what to do. I am going to have a child. I am not sure I can do this. I haven't told my family. My Father will hate me. My Mother will cry. They will be so disappointed with me. I am so afraid."
She waited until the girl was quiet than made her presence known. She asked her softly. "Is there some way I can help you, child?" She listened without judgment as the girl poured her heart out to her.
She thought the boy loved her, but as soon as she told him about the baby things changed. It was obvious he could care less. "Well, that can be taken care of." He callously told her,"You will have to find money. Make sure you don't tell anyone. I will find out where you need to go to get rid of it."
"I could never get rid of it," tears filled her eyes, "That thought never entered my mind. I believe in the Catholic church. He is Catholic too. How could he even suggest that?" She relayed the rest of the story. He yelled at her. He told her it was her fault. He tried to bully her into an abortion. "I'll deny it he said. I can't be the father. Besides, how do I know you didn't have sex with other men? You acted like you really liked it."
Margarite was a natural counselor. She kept opinions and doctrine out of her comforting words. She simply helped the girl to make her own decision and to wait for the Lord's counsel.
A year later, the young mother and her family came to the church to show Margarite her beautiful daughter. They cried together when they talked about that night. Her Father thanked Margarite for helping his daughter. His Grandchild was the delight of his life. He also asked his daughter's forgiveness.
"I didn't respond well when you told me, but God is wonderful and now we know that it was meant to be."
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There was something familiar about the woman who had come in. It took her several minutes before she recognized Mary. Mary, the girl with the angel voice. Mary, the one who was so violently teased. Mary, who was so smart. Mary, who never realized how special she was. Mary, who had no idea how the boys wanted her.
Yes, she was a nun, but she recognized lust in a man when she saw it. Almost every young man at school wanted to be with the elusive Mary.
She waited until they left the church. She softly followed them until they found Father John, the newest priest to join their parish.
By jusylee72
Joe
Strange things are happening.
I have always been so awkward with women. Lately, that is going away. I think it was the look in the waitresses eye when I took her. I am powerful. I even have a sense of humor. I'm not as ugly as I always thought I was.
I am more confident. I am starting to take an interest in how I dress. I wear dockers now, button-down shirts, expensive shoes. In the past, I would go to a barber and shave off all my hair. Now I let my hair grow. I went to a salon for the first time in my life. When I updated my style the compliments started coming my way.
At work, management is finally realizing what a gifted artist I am. My new boss loved another one of my designs. He asked me if I am interested in a promotion. In the past, I wouldn't have known what to say. Now my confidence is growing. Boldly I told him, "Hell Yes". I used my growing vocabulary to convince him how loyal I am to the company. I made up a story on the spot. "This company could possibly grow into an international coporation. With employees like you and me, Mr. Williams, we can explore the future."
I am on my way up.
I noticed a couple of the female workers are starting to talk to me in the lunchroom. Daily I am practicing responding to them. One of them laughed at a small joke I made. Another hinted that she was available Saturday night if I wanted to get together. Not yet, maybe soon. I'm still getting used to the new me.
Who would have guessed that a few well-deserved revenge murders would change me into a popular man?
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Mary and Elizabeth
"Start with Elizabeth." Delaney liked giving orders. "Find out what happened to her back then. See if she is still in the area. Make an appointment with her as soon as possible."
Finding Elizabeth was easy. Her Grandparents still lived in the neighborhood by the School.
The initial phone call was touching.
"Mary," Elizabeth said, "Of course I remember you. You sang so wonderfully when we were at school."
"Yes, I did hear about Father MacMurphy. No, I wouldn't mind talking to you about it."
Elizabeth was a teacher now. "School ends at 3:30 could you meet me in my classroom about four O'clock?"
Mary arrived about ten minutes early.
Elizabeth's third-grade classroom was inviting.
- Large bulletin boards with hand-colored creations from 8-year-old students lined the room. -
- Bright posters with sight words decorated the back of the room.
- A reading corner with a bean bag seemed to invite the students to read.
- Jars of pencils on her desk with happy face stickers just in case a student needed one.
- Another corner had math manipulates to help visualize equations.
There were tiny desks in straight rows, so empty in the afternoon. Each child's name proudly displayed in the right corner.
There were pictures of Elizabeth's husband and children proudly displayed on the desk.
Elizabeth was stamping happy faces on worksheets when Mary walked in. She stood up, walked to Mary and hugged her.
"I was so surprised to hear that you were investigating this murder. I heard about it on the news several weeks ago. I would like to tell you that I shed a few tears over it. The truth is I was happy. I know it's a sin, but I am glad he is dead."
They talked about her last day at school. "My parents were so upset." She lovingly spoke of her parents and how they supported her through the next few months.
"Mary, why did we allow people to treat us like that? What was their power over us? How did we get there in the first place? That was the most painful and humiliating day of my life."
She was eager to tell her story.
"I was lucky, I had parents who truly believe in the Catholic religion but they also trusted and loved me. I ran home about 4:30. Mom usually got home around 5:30. Dad around 6. I honestly didn't know how to feel. I had hiked up my skirt to be shorter. I wanted the boys to notice me, but not in the way Father Mac Murphy thought."
"I still remember his hateful words.'
"Men can't control themselves when they see women flaunting their bodies." He kept repeating.
"I truly had no Idea what he meant."
"He slammed down the ruler again and again. I wanted to jump but I had been trained that if you sit still they won't do it again. I had no idea how wrong I was."
"Slut."
Slam.
"Whore."
Slam.
"Opening your legs?"
"I didn't even know what that meant. I was waiting for my first kiss."
Slam.
"As soon as I could, I ran home. I washed my wounds. I put ice on them. I was crying uncontrollably when Mama came in.
"Darling what is wrong?"
"I had two broken fingers and the rest were ugly, swelling and turning purple and yellow. I tried and tried to tell her what had happened, but I kept saying I'm sorry, I pulled up my skirt. I am sinful."
It wasn't until my Father came home that I truly was able to tell the story. I thought Dad would be mad at me. His reaction shocked me. "How dare that excuse for a man touch my daughter." He wanted to go to the school at that moment.
But Mama knew better. "We are taking her to the hospital."
"The nurses treated me gently. The X-rays showed severe trauma but they bandaged them. They gave me something for the pain and at least for that night I slept.
"The next day, Mama and Papa took me out of school. They filed a lawsuit. I didn't know what that was either. We moved to another suburb. I actually went to public school and enjoyed it."
"At one point I noticed that my Parents had more money than usual. I had no idea it was "Catholic Shut Up Money" but my parents told me I was going to college."
"And I did."
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Mary and William
William was coming home.
Mary was walking out of her interview with Elizabeth when she got the text message.
It was detailed.
- Pick me up at the airport on August 18th at 7:00 p.m.
- I have accepted a contract for us both with the Houston Light Opera.
- You will be playing Micaela in Carmen.
- I am bringing with me a talented young contralto who has accepted the role of Carmen.
- We will be putting her up at our house until we leave for Houston in September.
- Have the house spotless. The guest room must have new sheets, new curtains.
- Ask for help decorating it. You know decorating has never been your strength.
See you soon,
William
She knew what had happened.
The first year the school put up with his rants. After all, he was an amazing conductor and geniuses were often temperamental. By the second year, people refused to work with him. She was sure he was asked to leave.
The young artist he was bringing with him probably had amazing talent. She would already be his lover. In the beginning, he was always charming. He would expect Mary to be welcoming. He would expect her to be naive. He would have no idea she knew the truth.
The role of Micaela in Carmen is a part Mary always wanted to sing. "Je dis que rien ne mepouvante" is a hauntingly beautiful aria, one of the most well known in Opera. Ironically, it is a prayer Micaela sings in the forest. She is asking God for the courage to face the woman, Carmen, who has taken away the love of her life.
Mary began singing the prayer in her mind. So melodious, so comforting.
She had a little more than two weeks to decide what to do. Her thoughts turned to the stage.
'I've never been on the professional stage without my husband's constant demands and criticisms. He kept me on edge, always nervous. I never truly sang from the heart. I simply ran interference for him. I was the peacekeeper between our employers and William's ego. Why did I allow this for so long?'
In college, Mary sang the prayer at her senior recital. The audience was in tears. Now when people heard her sing they thought it was pretty, technically correct. William's constant criticism had taken the life out of her performances. Mary longed to sing with her entire soul. She wanted William's voice out of her head. She wanted to sing and dance in the rain. She wanted to laugh and enjoy life. She did not want William to come back.
Two weeks to decide who she was now.
By jusylee72
We arrived back at the band hall with cheers as we walked in. We had a good supply of food, water, gaterade.
While we were gone, the others had collected rain. Another group had created a storage closet. We passed out the food without any real plan until Macy stood up and said.
"We need to organize this. We need to ration this. We have no idea how long we are going to be here."
Amanda, the Band director suggested the closet in the band office. It had ready made shelves. It had a locked door.
Her words scared me. We have to lock the pantry. We have to regualte g
r A small commitee formed. They began the pantry that would keep us feed. They scavenged the band hall for shelves. There was a labeling machine that helped diide and conquer.
By jusylee72
Joe
I received a phone call from the police department today. It doesn't make me nervous. They are contacting all former students about the meeting. Yes, I know, I work at the button factory - so do eight of the former students. That must mean they found the tapes.
Mac Murphy always had the camera running. He would tell me he was recording my journey into manhood.
"As your spiritual father, I must guide you as you begin to become a young man."
He would talk about secrets of the flesh as sacred and holy. "Keep these things between us. No one else. I will protect you."
What a joke? Protect me. He abused me. He tortured me and just when I believed I was truly his special person, he abandoned me for someone younger.
I made myself quit thinking about Mac Murphy.
I am proud of my new living room. I completely redid it. You would think I had a professional decorator do it. I especially liked the large mirror in the living room. Every day I get more and more confident about how I look. I can stare at the mirror, admire my new style in clothes, my hair, my life. I speak well at work. More and more women are noticing me.
I am looking forward to the meeting. I wonder if "Angel Mary" will be there?
At least the investigators haven't found my former supervisor yet.
You know, the guy that told me I was nothing, worthless, just some cherry picking button maker.
It was so easy to get him fired. I spent many nights after the others had left the factory.
Usually, it was me and the security officer left.I would submit pictures of buttons I thought would sell. I took my time. I was meticulous. I drew them so beautifully, so lovingly. I imagined the most intimate, colorful, creative buttons. I would leave them for the morning executives to admire. The company accepted five of my designs. Now, I have permission to use their designer room after hours.
My supervisor was jealous. He was sure I was after his job. He never lost a chance to put me down or try to humiliate me.
Dumbass, couldn’t you read behind my eyes. I am not someone to mess with.
It was simple to put child pornography on his computer. Father Mac Murphy taught me how to access it on the Internet when I was a child.
I waited, remember I am patient, for several weeks to make the anonymous call to the business hotline.
I made the anonymous call from the back office I purposely sounded stupid. “I think one of the computers in our factory is really messed up...." I faked a stutter,"SS s Someone may be using the computer for bad purposes. I saw naked children on it.”He knew he was going to jail. After he got out on bail, I had to complicate things. I couldn’t risk a possible trial. It might uncover my deceptions.
I had no other choice.He was at the bottom of an abandoned well in the city park. I sewed a huge dull beige button around his mouth giving him a look of surprise.
Oh, I also buttoned up his asshole.
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By jusylee72
Jeremy and Margarite
The media followed Mac Murphy's death. Father John had a collection of all the local newspapers on his desk. Last week's paper, "Beloved Priest Found Brutally Murdered." This week, "Dead Priest Accused of Molestation." National paper - "Hidden Tapes Found in Church Apartment."
Margarite sat in the chair across from the Head Master. "Margarite, I must make sure you understand you can not talk to the media without the Bishop's permission. It is your responsibility to God to protect the church."
Margarite nodded. "I understand."
"However," he continued, "we have to cooperate with law enforcement. You have been here the longest. We must ask you to view these tapes with a detective. You may be able to identify the young boys. It will not be pleasant."
"If it will help, I will do it." Margarite looked at the young man in the chair next to her.
"This is Jeremy Winters. He works with "Crimes against children" in our precinct. He will explain the process to you. Please take him to the conference room. They have already set up the equipment."
"Yes, Father, I will do my best."
Jeremy Winters stood and followed Margerite to the conference room. He was handsome in a rugged way, dark hair and eyes, well-built but not overly. He wore a professional gray suit. He had a pleasant smile. He seemed embarrassed when he explained what they would be doing.
"Our goal is to identify these children. I will try my best to keep you from having to watch the worst parts. As soon as you know who the child might be, tell me. We will move on to a different tape at that point. No need for you to see the horror in these tapes. I have been doing this for over a year and the acts these men perform truly disgust me. Let me know if you need a break."
Margarite shook her head in agreement.
Mac Murphy labeled each tape with a sharpie - date/time, no name. The first tape was almost 15 years old. Mac Murphy was teaching the young boy a video game. The game was violent. The women characters scantily clothed would reward the boy's avatar with a kiss. Margarite did not recognize the child.
Tape two - The boy couldn't be over 8 or 9. He sat on the couch eating an ice Cream cone. Mac Murphy's voice was soft and soothing.
"I know you don't have a father at home. That is why I know you are special. I can teach you everything a father could teach you. However, we need to keep it a secret so that the other boys don't think I am playing favorites with you." The same boy was recorded several times on the same tape. The recording dates were written in sharpie on the side of the cartridge. What patience this man had. There was no real touching until about the 4th recording. Margarite wasn't sure but wondered if the boy might be Glenn Patterson. Glenn's Father was in the Air Force. He moved with his father to Germany when he was fourteen. Margarite only knew him about six months.
She didn't recognize the boys in the next 3 tapes.
The sixth boy was easy to recognize. Joe Larson. He was a big boy for his age. She remembered him as an awkward, somewhat distant child. Father Mac Murphy played him like a fiddle. "Joe, you must learn all I have to teach you. Your father abandoned you but I never will. Our secret will be just between us."
Little Joe was eager to please. "Father, can I really have ice cream. Mom never buys me any. My favorite is chocolate chip." Each visit started with ice cream.
Jeremy stopped it before the end of the tape. "Do you know him?"
"That is Joe Larson. He was in the same class as Mary."
Having watched this filth earlier, Jeremy was relieved that he didn't have to keep going. He knew the next part of the tape involved a game of "Naked Hide and Seek". He wanted to protect sister Margarite from seeing i
Jeremy's inner voice spoke softly to him. 'I usually read people so easitly. Margarite confuses me. 'How could someone so beautiful be a nun?' She has beauty laced with a kindness he had never seen before. Many women would have refused to watch these tapes. She simply wants to help. She wanted to know who had been hurt. She was not afraid."
After a three hour session, Margarita spoke up. "Do you think we could stop for the day. I have my duties to fulfill."
"No problem," Jeremy answered. "I can come back tomorrow around 10 a.m." He opened his calendar and made a note. He had been an Eagle Scout when he was 16. He still lived by the motto, "Be Prepared." He said his goodbyes and slowly walked out of the building.
Something was bothering him. He couldn't quite put his finger on it. Without meaning to he said something out loud to himself,
"Jeremy, she's a nun,"
He wasn't prepared for how he felt. He could barely wait to see Margarite again.
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Margarite
Margarite didn't like what she was thinking. "I thought I was safe from the evil side of the world. How can the Church betray such sweet innoncense." Embarassment, for herself and the church confused her.
In the United States, you have to be 18 before you can become a nun. In Mexico, Margarite gave herself to the lord when she was 15. When she first came to the school to work she was 18. She was practically the student's contemporaries.
Today bothered her. She had never questioned her life. She didn't want to start now.
By jusylee72
By jusylee72
Mary stood by the car watching as Joe went back to the restaurant.
'Is this what a kiss is supposed to feel like? She wasn't prepared for it. The gentleness, the softness, the response her body had was overwhelming.
Mary opened the door and sat in the driver's seat. She picked up her phone.
William's message glared at her from the light on her phone.
- Pick me up at the airport on August 18th at 7:00 p.m.
- I have accepted a contract for us both with the Houston Light Opera.
- You will be playing Micaela in Carmen.
- I am bringing with me a talented young contralto who has accepted the role of Carmen.
- We will be putting her up at our house until we leave for Houston in September.
- Have the house spotless. The guest room must have new sheets, new curtains.
- Ask for help decorating it. You know decorating has never been your strength.
See you soon,
William
"No loving husband could have written these words. This isn't something a husband would write to his wife. This is Something you would give to a secretary. Zero words of love. It was condescending.'
And insults: "You never were good at decorating, have someone help you."
Mary had never been close to anger, much less rage. Now, every inch of her was accelerating.
When she got to their apartment she had a revelation. "I have never lived here. I only exist here."
The apartment had a large living room. There were pictures of her husband directing. He had picked out everything, the curtains, the sofa, the carpet. She hated the dull colors, the elegant furniture that was not supposed to be used.
She turned to their bedroom. She spoke out loud to herself, "Our Bedroom, No, your bedroom."
The decor picked out by William looked formal, gaudy red heavy curtains, a dramatic velvet bedspread. Mary hated it all.
She reread his demands, "Buy new sheets for the guest room."
That demand she would honor.
Her mind was on fire, " I can't leave. I have nowhere to go. I make money now, yes, but there is no way I can afford a new place, a new deposit, two months rent, but I can do something else."
She tore the covers off the bed in the "Guest Room". She took everything out of that room except the furniture and threw it in the living room. She tossed the lace curtains on the couch. She took her clothes out of the master bedroom. She put them in her new home, the guest room. She put clean sheets on the bed. "I'm moving in."
She picked up her phone. He would be here in five days. She texted him. All in capitals.
FIND YOUR OWN RIDE HOME FROM THE AIRPORT. I AM NOW YOUR ROOMMATE.
Mary didn't use cuss words. This was a special occasion. She edited the text.
FIND YOUR OWN FUCKING RIDE HOME.
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Joe
"Yes, I wrote a letter to the police.
"No, that was not dangerous.
"Remember my boss, the one who is in the well on his way to hell.
"When he was charged with child pornography, he was let out on bail. That was when I sent him for his own "Well-being" to his new destination.
"When he didn't show up to court, the detectives came to our factory. They confiscated everything his computer, his desk, his locker, everything. Someone, okay me, put a couple of things on his desk.
"Let's see, a sparkly, gaudy button and an expensive religious one. My two special people. The two cases had not been connected yet. Mary and Delaney would figure it out when they came to investigate our factory.
"There, in the evidence box at the police station, is the box holding all of my bosses possessions.
"I also wrote the note on his personal stationery. Yes, I blacked out his name with a sharpie, but forensics could eliminate that and find out what was underneath.
"It had been so easy.
"But Mary, That was another story.
"The kiss was amazing. Most importantly, she kissed me back."
By jusylee72
Delaney
At the police station, gloves on his hands he was looking at the letter. ‘Button, Button, Who has the Button?” That was all it said. The stationary was blacked out at the top. The department had kept any reference to buttons away from the press. So what was this letter about?
The button factory was just over the county line, maybe 20 miles from here. Mary and Delaney were scheduled to go there on Monday. Delaney had heard about an earlier case from the factory, maybe three months back, he thought. What was the guy charged with? Oh yeah, Child Pornography on his computer. He called up the detective on record for the case. Caraway was his name. He was straight forward.
“The case was pretty cut and dry. No big surprises, anonymous phone call with a tip. The guy was so stupid, kiddie porn on his office computer, porn on his home computer. We requested a high bail. The judge didn’t go along with it. The man had no criminal record. The guy skipped before we even got to trial. We haven’t been able to find him. The evidence box is in the basement of the precinct. You can look through it, but you won’t find more than the obvious.”
It was late but Delaney decided to go check it out anyway. The clerk handed him three boxes. The first had records from both his computers. The hard drives had been thoroughly checked by the department’s technical advisors. The third box contained the contents of his work desk. Delaney dug into it, pictures, pencils, mundane, normal office equipment. In the bottom of the box in a plastic evidence bag were the two things that didn’t fit, one glittery button, one religious button. They matched the new crime scenes perfectly.
Delaney’s radar went up. This was too easy.
“The guy was so stupid, kiddie porn on his office computer, porn on his home computer.”
By jusylee72
There were still ten tapes left - ten despicable, evil examples of abuse. Innocent, needy children who fell for it all. His praise, his gifts- Mac Murphy was a genius at manipulation. He groomed them, petted them. Made them feel love. Only then would he defile them.
Both Jeremy and Margarite were exhausted.
Jeremy admitted it first. "Sometimes I just can't stomach this another minute."
"I can't believe this went on here, my church, my home." The tears came out of nowhere. Margarite was embarrassed. "How could I have not seen it? How could we have protected these sweet little boys? I feel so guilty, so gullible."
Jeremy reached for her hand on the table. "This has nothing to do with you. You did not cause this. Evil caused this."
Margarite did not take her hand away. She could not control herself any longer. She began to cry, not gently, forcibly Behind the tears, a new anger, a new rage erupted. Her mind raced. ' I am a nun. This goes against all I have believed, all I have been taught. Yet right now I only want Jeremy to hug me and comfort me. "
Jeremy didn't know how to react. 'I want to hold her, comfort her, tell her the world will be okay and go. What am I thinking, she's a nun. I can't treat her like a normal woman. That barrier is too strong. I don't want to offend her.'
He also couldn't let go of her hand.
"Margarite," He didn't realize he left off the word sister.
"Let's stop. Right now. I can't do this now either. We are both exhausted and I'm hungry. We're going to go eat. We can try again later if we have to but right now I want the biggest plate of Italian food in the neighborhood. You are coming with me. I will buy you whatever you want, steak, spaghetti, wine. It doesn't matter. And we are not going to talk about any of this. We are going to talk about the weather or sports or music, anything but this."
He finally let go of her hand. He walked across the room for his coat. He didn't ask if she accepted. He simply opened the door. "Hurry up. I am not taking no for an answer. My car is outside. "
Margarite's was surprised, enough to make the tears stop. She didn't say a word. She just got up and followed him.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Delaney called Mary and left a message. "We have to discuss the new evidence I found at the precinct. I also need to see what you observed last night at the club."
'Oh great, I've been so busy facing my own failed marriage I forgot all about my obligations. How in the world do I explain last night? I certainly can't say, "OH by the way Delaney, I kissed Joe in the parking lot. He specifically told me to not be alone with any of them. One of them could be a muderer. What in the world am I doing?'
She still felt the kiss. Again her thoughts wondered, 'So gentle, nothing demanding about it - A gift, a simple act of affection freely given. Could I possible lived as much as Elizaberh is? Her husband doesn't hide his love for her. His eyes show it. He would do anything for her.'
Her parents words also echoed in her ears. 'There is no gray between right and wrong. You get married. You stick with it. You become a role model of a good wife and eventually Mother. You raise your children in the church with good morals. You tell them to never question authority. You behave in a proper way.'
"Proper," Mary said it out loud. "PROPER." This time louder. She was getting angry. She spelled it, on the verge of yelling. "P-R-O-P-E-R!"
She spoke outloud to herself. "From now on PROPER is a cuss word in my life. I will not let anyone tell me how to act, what to wear, what to say, who to be. I am no one's property."
She laughed at herself and the two words her mind had connected. They meant two different things - Proper and Property - yet she was proud of her new definition.
She had never felt this strong.
| Author Notes |
Buttons is a novel about a revenge killer.
Protagonist - Joe is the protagonist. He was raised by an angry single Catholic mother. She wanted to abort him but could not because of her faith. She becomes an alcoholic. During his Parochial school years, Joe is sexually abused by Father Mc Murphy. Joe is the only character who speaks in first person. From the beginning of the Novel the reader is privy to his thoughts. He is a hurt, sad, angry person who feels he was never loved. When people hurt him or embarrass him he plots ways to kill them. After he kills them he uses buttons to emphasize their weakness and his hatred for them. Joe is awkward at the beginning of the book. He goes through a transformation during the novel with the help of an aging prostitute as a teacher. She teaches him how to become a man. Mary was blessed or cursed with the the name Mary Virginia. From the time she is young the boys love to tease her about being a virgin. Mary is a gifted singer who discovers her voice during a Christmas concert at the private school she attends. Joe is enamored with her. Mary is easily influenced. She is interested in Science and is fascinated by forensics. Despite her interest in Science, her parents insist she attend college on a Music Scholarship. Mary is a natural Opera singer and makes it to the professional level. Mary's mother pushes her to find a husband. A young, but egotistical opera director convinces Mary to be his wife. He is controlling. William is Mary's husband and an Opera Director. He uses Mary to further his career. Because of his temperament, he is losing important connections in America. Margarite is a young, beautiful, Hispanic nun. She believes she has a true calling to the Church. She becomes nun at the very young age of 16. She is assigned to Mary's Church School. She is well loved by the children and the community. Margarite is also extremely intelligent. She has a great empathy for people. Elizabeth is a contemporary to Mary. They were in the same class at the church until Elizabeth is physically beaten by Father Mc Murphy for pulling her skirt up to make it shorter. Other characters, Detective Delaney - Investigates the crimes with Mary. Interesting hardened cop, who grows to respect her but is very protective of her at the same time. Cindy - Aging Prostitute who takes a liking to Joe. She mentors him in women. She shows him how to dress appropriately. She shows him true affection. She is an extremely important factor in Joe's life. Joe's Mother - Angry, aging alcoholic. Changes personality after about six beers. Intimidates Joe. He comes up with a plan to kill her. Joe and Mary's Classmates Henry, the class clown had put on some weight but still had a great smile. He was a car salesman. Katherine hadn�???�??�?�¢??t changed much she was still beautiful and she knew it. She was a stay at home wife. Melissa didn�???�??�?�¢??t seem as shy as she once was. She was an actuary with GPM Life. Katrina worked in a children�???�??�?�¢??s clothing store. Chase, the class rebel, was now a police officer. Joe had really changed. He had an air of confidence. He was dressed impeccably. Elizabeth was there with her husband." |
By jusylee72
The text was written in all caps. "MARY, WHERE ARE YOU? OUR PLANE WAS ON TIME. YOU SHOULD BE HERE BY NOW."
Cherry Churchill struggled to find all of her baggage. "Lovey, I can only find three of my four suitcases. Come over here and help me, William."
William snapped back at her. "You will have to wait. Mary should be here by now. I am trying to get a hold of her."
'This is not the time to be a diva.' William thought. "I dealt with her incessant chatter for fourteen hours on a plane. Surely she can shut up now.'
He knew her whole life story - "I grew up on a family farm. One day in the barn I started singing. It echoed so loud. My Marm could hear it all the way to the house. Grandpa said he would pay for them singing lessons. Now, look where I am."
'Cherry thinks she's a perfect English lady.' William was ignoring her. 'In truth, she's nothing more than white-trash with an opera voice. She did get training. She can actually perform well. Off stage, she's like a milk maid trying to imitate a princess. That name. I will have to change it. Cherry Churchill is not a name that will make me famous.'
His mind turned to the one good part of the trip. 'She is a gift in bed. After sleeping with virgin Mary for years, it is nice to have someone who understands sex and isn't afraid of it. That hand job on the plane was fun.'
"Stewardess, Lovey needs a blanket. It is a little cold in here."
He smiled as he remembered. He pictured her tucking the blanket around him, then slyly undoing his pants. She understood how to make a man happy. He was beginning to get aroused again. Most importantly, she is fine with being a Mistress for now.
"I understand William. It will take awhile before you can tell that Catholic wife of yours."
William heard the notice of another voice mail. "Find your own way home." was all it said.
'This is ridiculous. It will cost 60 dollars to have a cab take us to the apartment. He tried one more time. This time he left a voice mail. Another text popped up. "Find your own way home." It was signed "Your ROOMMATE."
'Who the hell does she think she is?" William was talking out loud. "I know she sent me that ugly text about a week ago but Mary would never stay mad. She knows to do what I say."
Cherry complained to the help desk. One of the porters walked to the baggage turnstile and quickly found the missing bag.
"Oh, silly me. Thank you, I forgot that I brought the red one too."
"Porter, help us get our luggage out to the taxi Line. Cherry, Mary must be held up. We will have to take a cab."
Outside on the curb, Cherry kept talking. "New York, blooming New York. Can you believe it? Little old me in New York."
The line was long. It took thirty minutes before they were led to a cab. "Brooklyn, 1072 East Mason street."
Cherry described everything she saw on the way to the apartment.
=========================================================================
Mary ignored the texts as long as she could. Finally, she gave in and wrote a terse response. Her mind was occupied. 'I've made my decision. I may not be financially ready to move out, but mentally I am already gone.'
She liked her little quest room. She had a small tv, a chair, a bed. She even bought a small refrigerator. She put a key lock on her door. She had been nice enough to leave the kitchen clean but everything else was as it was. The former decorations from the quest room were still on the couch. She hadn't vacuumed in a week. She had work to do. She wouldn't even be home until after eight tonight.
"His name is Ralph Peterson." Delaney interrupted her thoughts. They were on the way to the button factory. "An anonymous call led us to investigate the possibility of child porn. We found it on his office and home computer. He was charged before we knew about any of the murders. I've been through the evidence boxes at the precinct. We've found the buttons that fit both crimes."
"Where is he now?"
"The court let out on bail awaiting trial. He skipped town. We haven't been able to find him."
"So you think you have found our suspect?
"Don't be so quick, Mary. Something about it seems too easy, too simple. Remember when I had to leave the club the other night? Someone sent a message to the police department. It was on stationary from the button factory. All it said was "Button, Button, who has the button?" If he is trying to hide, why lead us to more evidence? If someone else has evidence, why not just bring it to us?"
"Maybe he wants credit for the killings. Maybe he wants fame."
"Child molesters are the biggest cowards in the world. They spend they whole lives pretending to be someone they are not. Most would never bring attention to them. It just doesn't fit the profile."
"There are seven former students who work at the factory, two from my class. Joe is a button designer. Chase sometimes does security there for extra money. I will get you profiles of the other five."
Abruptly, Delaney changed the subject. "What was in that text you got?"
Mary got defensive. "What do you mean?"
"I'm a detective, Mary. I saw the change in your body language. You're afraid of something."
Mary tried to deny it.
"No, I am fine. My husband just came back to America today. He said his plane arrived safely."
"You have hardly mentioned him since I have known you. I know I may seem rough around the edges but if you need to talk, I am here."
"I'll be ok. I promise. I am just a little overwhelmed."
Delaney knew better. Mary didn't want to go home.
By jusylee72
The button factory was thirty miles out of town. Mary and Delaney drove up to the security gate. Mary recognized Chase.
"Chase, is that you?" Mary was in the passenger seat.
"Mary, yes it's me. This is my side job. I have another baby on the way so I am supplementing my paycheck. Delaney, I remember you from the meeting. Why are you out here? Do you suspect someone here killed Mac Murphy?"
The public didn't know about the buttons.
Delaney stepped in. "We are just checking out the people who knew him. There are eight people from the school who work here."
Delaney showed him his badge and the search warrant.
"Give me a minute to talk to the supervisor." Chase took the phone from the small cabin at the entry way.
"Go ahead. They know you are coming."
"We will need to talk to you.
Mary interrupted. "May I call you tomorrow? I have the number from our meeting."
"Yes, but I work tomorrow too. Call me, I will try to find a time."
Chase pushed the button to allow entry.
"He seems calm," Delaney mentioned. "He doesn't seem to know much."
"He knows more than you think."
"What do you mean by that, Mary."
"Did you even look at my notes the night I met with my classmates? He was molested. He told us. He tried to minimize it. When are your going to take me seriously?"
Mary had never raised her voice to Delaney. She had never raised her voice to any man. Now she wanted him to take her seriously. Damn it, she wanted the world to take her seriously. I am here. I don't lie. I have let people walk all over me in my life, but now I want you to listen.
Mary continued.
"Look, I do my work well. I am responsible. I am meticulous. I keep great notes. I am sorry you got straddled with me by the experimental project that made me your new partner. You think you know it all. Your think you are superior, just like every other man I have ever met in my life. Daddy told me what to do. Father Mac Murphy told us how to be good wives. William controlled my entire career and explained to me over and over what a good wife was supposed to be. So quit telling me, ask me. I have opinions. I have ideas. I have insight. Frankly, you are the first man I trust to tell it to you without pretending I am weak. I am not afraid of you. That is a compliment! I am unafraid to let you know I am intelligent, insightful, hard working, maybe even pretty. I have never believed in myself. Right now, I do. So would you please shut up and listen?"
For once in his life, Delaney had no response.
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Joe stood at the window staring as Delaney and Mary left.
She is so special. Maybe she's the one Cindy told me I would find. Cindy taught me well. I promised her to take love slowly. Mary was worth the wait in my mind.
That Delaney, on the other hand, has me just a little worried. He doesn't seem so easy to trick. With all the evidence he has against my supervisor, most would think he would be clamoring to find good old Ralph.
 |
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By jusylee72
The Italian restaurant Jeremy picked wasn't busy at this time of night. They were seated at a table by the window. The waiter greeted them with Italian bread and vinaigrette dip. Jeremy ordered a bottle of Zinfandel.
Margarite chose the Alfredo. Jeremy wanted the lasagna.
It was awkward at first. Jeremy insisted that there was no talk about the tapes. Gradually they found other questions to ask each other.
"Tell me about your family, Margarite. I know they are in Mexico."
"My father and mother own a small shop right across the border from El Paso into Juarez. They have had it for many years. They work hard and have made a success of it. We were able to have a house close by a couple of streets over. My mother had the business mind. I helped raise my younger brothers and sisters. There were seven of us all together. Both of my parents are devout Catholics. They were pleased when I chose to become a nun. I left for the nunnery when I was fifteen."
"That is so young to make a decision so big. Why did you choose it?"
"The church fascinated me. I loved the symbols, the statues, the candles. The church we went to was built in the late eighteen hundreds. Over the years they invested in beautiful stain glass, wooden staircases, an amazing hand carved altar. I felt a calling to help people. My parents said it was a blessing to be a nun."
Jeremy wanted to know more.
"Have you ever regretted your decision?"
"I have never asked myself that question. It never occurred to me. I do hate what we are doing now, finding out about the bad part of the church, the hidden secrets I knew nothing about. I am angry that I never saw it. I was there to protect these children, yet evil was inside the church. Why was I so blind?"
Jeremy tried to have a comforting answer.
"Those who truly believe in the church don't look for its faults. You are a pure soul, a loving soul. You would have never thought that within this structure there was evil. Did you encounter Mac Murphy much?"
"I saw him every day. He wasn't a pleasant person. The students were afraid of him. He often accused the nuns of being too easy on the children. He would often tell us that we weren't doing enough for Christ. I knew he spent time with the youngest children, but I never suspected this."
They were on their second glass of wine.
"I said we were not going to talk about this evil. Yet now, I lead you right there again. I am so sorry."
"Well then, tell my about yourself, Jeremy."
"I was born in the Bronx. Both of my parents worked very hard to feed us. There were eight of us. Just like you, we had a big family. Mom and Dad both followed the Catholic religion. I never met an evil priest. Mac Murphy is the exception, not the rule. Stop, there I go again. We are supposed to stay off that subject. Back to my mom and dad, they raised all of us strictly but lovingly. I hope to someday have a wife and raise our own children with the same type of devotion my parents had."
Margarite surprised herself with her next statement. "I guess I do have one regret. I will always wonder what it would be like to have a child of my own. I made my vows sincerely and I shouldn't even think of breaking them. Maybe it's the wine talking. I haven't let myself think about that for years."
Jeremy poured their third glass of wine.
"Margarite, you are a beautiful woman. I know I shouldn't be saying this, but maybe you should question a decision that was made so early in life. "
An awkward silence followed. The main dish was served.
Margarite didn't know what to say. For the last few months, she had been experiencing doubts. She was questioning whether or not she was supposed to be part of this world. Maybe she should go back to Mexico. She needed to see her family. She felt certain when she came here that she was on the right path to God.
The attraction between the two of them became harder to control. This time Margarite reached across the table for his hand. She briefly touched it, then just as quickly let it go. After one more glass of wine and a small dessert, it was time to go. Jeremy paid the check then helped her with her coat. Margarite didn't want to leave.
By jusylee72
Joe greeted Delaney and Mary at the front entrance. "My boss wants me to show you around."
The factory in action was fascinating to watch. Large machines were everywhere. Joe began the tour at the front of the factory.
"Here is where we mix the resin. We sometimes add several layers of colors to the buttons. The beauty of them comes out later when we polish them."
He took us to a large machine that resembled an open MRI machine.
"These machines continuously turn to keep the resin smooth. We make large sheets of each design. Once it hardens we roll the individual sheets and take them to the cutting room."
"Here we have several large machines."
"Computer generated shapes are cut into the sheets of resin. Further down this row, we have the finishing machines. They put the holes in the button. They indent them. Some of the more expensive buttons, the inlaid buttons have to be made by hand. Next, we put them in the polishing machines. They are down the hall pass the lounge area. These look like an oversized clothes washers. We add water and polishing grit to the machines. We polish them for hours. We put them in the cooling tanks for several hours."
Joe was so enthusiastic about the creation of these buttons. His face lit up with all of his explanations.
"At the end of the hallway, we have a small museum. It talks about the history of this place. It was started in the late 1800's, 1894 to be exact. The Shumaker family business is known internationally. The grandfather ran the place until he died in 1938. His family still owns the place. Now, they use a management company."
He led us to the museum.
The large room was meticulously put together. Colorful buttons everywhere. Some were in buckets that you could run your hands through. Some were in shadow boxes protected from the public. Signed pictures of other famous people filled the walls. Howard Hughes had visited here. Marylyn Monroe was pictured with the owners. Several presidents pictures were shown wearing the artwork we call buttons. Jars and jars of colored buttons filled the shelves.
Mary stopped by one of the shadow boxes. It was a picture of Rome. Inside it was a display of polished black onyx buttons inlaid with an ivory cross. They were originally made for a Cardinal in Rome. They were also the exact buttons sewn into the lips of Father Mac Murphy. Involuntary chills ran down Mary's back.
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Delaney was interested in the button factory but not as much as he was interested in Joe. Joe was an actor. He loved the role of "The Good Employee.' Delaney's instincts were telling him to not trust him.
'He is a well put together man. He seems too perfect. He is trying to impress us. He doesn't seem to be hiding anything. He doesn't seem to be afraid. I don't know what it is but something doesn't sit right with me.'
Mary indicated to Delaney to come over to where she was. She pointed to the box. Delaney stared at it. He recognized the buttons.
"Hey, Joe, who sets these rooms up? Who makes the shadow boxes and the other displays?"
"It was originally set up by Alfred Schumaker, the owner of the place. Then his family took over it for years. Ralph Peterson was the last one in charge of this area. He made all the shadow boxes for this room. Three years ago we started giving tours to some of the local elementary students. He was afraid visitors might take some of the more valuable buttons."
"How well did you know him?"
"He was my supervisor. He left several months ago. He got in trouble with the law. The rumor has he liked the company of young boys. The newspapers say he was indicted but before he went to trial, he simply disappeared. The police have been out here several times asking if any of us have heard from him. "
"What kind of man was he?"
"I never liked him much but he did his job well. He never gave me any trouble. He did seem strangely quiet."
"And you got along with him?"
"Well, most of the time. He did seem a little jealous when the company accepted some of my designs for new buttons."
"What was his personal life like?"
"I didn't know him that well. I think he was divorced. Other than that, I don't know anything about him."
Mary spoke up. "Joe, we need an employee list. Phone numbers and addresses. Could you arrange that for us?"
"Sure, I'll go ask the big boss now."
Now that Joe was gone, Mary and Delaney could talk more freely. They searched the room for any more clues.
"Mary, we will have to take the shadow box with us. Please make an evidence list of anything else we take. Ask one of the workers if there is a storage room nearby. We need to find the other buttons."
Mary left then came back several minutes later.
"One of the workers tells me they use a storage company about fifteen miles from here, Evan's Cubicles. I think I saw it when we were driving over here."
Joe returned with a long list of the employees. This was going to take a long time. ------------------------------------ ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Joe set them up in a small office in the back of the factory. He excused himself saying he had to get back to work.
The two of them spent the rest of the afternoon interviewing the other employees with connections to the church. It was painstaking and slow. It was almost seven p.m. before they left the factory.
Mary was quiet for the first 15 minutes of the ride home. She managed to forget about William the entire time they were at the factory. Now, the thoughts quickly came back. She would have to confront him in the next few hours.
"Why so quiet, Mary?" Delaney was curious. She had been quite verbal on the way here. He remembered the tongue lashing she had given him. Now she looked defeated.
"Come on, you know you're going to have to tell me eventually anyway. Just get it over with."
The verbal dam broke. Mary told him everything:
How William was gone for a sabbatical for two full years.
How He did nothing but criticize her.
How she really didn't want him to go home.
How she was sure he never loved her and how he just used her to advance his career.
How she wanted out.
By jusylee72
A brief description of these characters from other chapters in the book.
Joe, abused by a priest and his mother in childhood, seeks revenge on anyone who hurts him. He murders them then buttons various parts of they body in ways to humiliate them.
Mary, Young talented opera singer. She was raised a Catholic and pushed into a wedding with an overbearing abusive husband who is a conductor for the opera, William who is self-centered is just returning from a two-year sabbatical overseas. He expects to come home to his submissive wife. Instead, Mary has followed another desire. The desire to be a true crime writer. She is put with Detective Delaney on an experimental public relations exercise that allows her to work on the crime with him. They are investigating the murders that Joe has committed. William Text her to say he is bringing home a young opera singer and that he has accepted an invitation for the new artist, Cherry Churchill to play Carmen, himself as the conductor and Mary as Micaela. They are to leave for Houston the following week.
Mary has other ideas and though she is a devout catholic she is ready to move on and ask for a divorce.
Cindy, an over age prostitute is the only person who has shown Joe any type of love. She is motherly and at the same time teaches him how to be a lover that few women can resist.
There are many other people, who like Mary and Joe all went to the same Catholic School. Katherine was the most popular girl back in high school. When the priest of their church is murdered it is discovered that he was a pedophile. All of the former students are called to the church for the investigation. The ones in Mary's class go out to the bar after the meeting. That is when Katherine who has married a rich lawyer seventeen years her senior, tells everyone she wants to host a class reunion. There are many other characters, but for this chapter, these are the ones you need to understand.
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Mary hesitated in front of her door, the keys in her hand. "You have to do this. Just get it over with."
She opened the door. Loud laughter greeted her as she walked in. An attractive woman sat on the couch, cheese and a cracker in her hand.
"You are so witty, William. You always know how to make me smile. Wait, and who is this? Oh, it must be Mary. Hi Mary, I am Cherry, Cherry Churchill. Your husband is so funny and smart. I so appreciate you letting me stay here before we start our new adventure."
She would have kept talking if William hadn't spoken up. "Well, hello dear, I was beginning to get worried. Where have you been?"
"Many things have changed since you've been gone, William."
He walked over to her. He grabbed her elbow and walked her over to the couch.
"Surely you want to greet our guest. I was just telling Cherry that something must have kept you from cleaning the house. It is a little embarrassing. These curtains belong in the guest room. Did you forget to wash them? It looks like you forgot to vacuum, too. You can do all that tomorrow. Would you like a glass of wine. It is a Merlot. I bought it in France. Very expensive. I would like it if you would make us a little late dinner. I took some steaks out to thaw about two hours ago."
He was trying so hard to conceal his anger. It wasn't working.
Mary had prepared herself for this for several days. Taking a deep breath, she politely began.
"I repeat, William, things have changed. I am no longer going to let you run my life. I have a job now. I have my own money. I have moved into the guest room. You and your houseguest are welcome to the rest of the house."
"A job? What kind of work can you possibly do?"
"I am writing. I am also a consultant on a murder investigation."
"What on earth and you did all this without consulting me?" Now he was starting to act like the real William.
Mary pushed it further.
"Wiliam, you know we haven't been together in a very long time. I have simply moved on. As I said, I have my own room now. You and your houseguest are welcome to the rest of the house. As soon as possible I will be filing for divorce."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
William hated being out of control.
"You divorce me? Who do you think you are? The only reason you even have a career is because of me. You are nothing without me. Do you hear me, nothing."
Cherry was still sitting on the couch unable to understand what was happening. William always described Mary as demure and shy.
"Mary relies on me for everything. She is completely dependent on me. She would be lost without me. We will have to very patient darling, she is a devout catholic."
Mary knew better than to push any further. She walked directly to her room, turned and locked the door.
"Come back here. You can't just walk away from me. I am your husband and you will do what I say when I say it. Now get in the kitchen and start dinner."
He followed her to the bedroom. The locked door infuriated him. He pounded on it.
"Get out here now." He seemed to forget that he had a house guest. Cherry became flustered.
"Oh dear, maybe you should take me to a hotel. I think Mary is jealous that I am here. Are you sure she didn't know about us? Maybe, one of your friends told her. Is she dangerous? Do you think she will hurt me?"
"Shut up, you imbecile. She's not going to hurt you."
For once, William had no idea what to do.
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Katherine looked at the caller ID and answered on the second ring. "Joe, it is so nice to hear from you."
"I was just thinking about you, Katherine. You were such the light of the party in our school years. I have to admit, I had a school boy crush on you for years. Just between the two of us, I am not sure I ever truly got over it."
Katherine blushed. "Oh Joe, you flatter me with such words. It was a delight to see everybody. We have all changed so much."
Joe inwardly laughed, if you only knew how much I've changed you would be terrified. "Katherine, I truly liked your idea of a class reunion. Especially, now that our church is facing so much hardship. I think it would be good for all of us if we truly got together and got to know each other well. Besides the church needs our support.
By jusylee72
Chapter 1 of a Novel. Joe is a revenge killer. He speaks in the first person. All other characters are in third voice.
Please take the time to read this and let me know what you think. I plan on visiting this site every day. I am just going to go down the line and review as many as I possibly can. If you read mine then I will find yours and make it a top priority to read. That way we can help each other. I look forward to reading so many wonderful ideas.
Buttons
Chapter 1.
Joes Narrative
My name is Joe.
I work in a Button factory.
I design beautiful buttons. Such vibrant colors -- They glimmer and shine, demure and refine, pull together garments. They serve a purpose in society. Sometimes in life. Sometimes in death.
I keep picturing the people who have been, well let's just say, not nice to me.
Their lips are buttoned shut now.
I pick out the buttons carefully.
For Father Mac, the priest at my school, I picked out expensive black onyx buttons with an inlaid pearl cross.
For the young stuck up blond who made fun of me, I chose cheap, glittery buttons before I sewed her mouth shut for the last time.
For my boss, who made a point of telling me I'm nothing, I picked dull, ugly big buttons that portrayed just how stupid he really was.
And for my Mother......
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Mary Virginia
The nuns at Our Lady of Guadalupe insisted on calling her by her full name, Mary Virginia.
The jokes on the playground started in second grade.
"Virgin", they would taunt her with as if it was a bad word. They would circle her laughing.
"I thought there was only one Virgin Mary."
Mary was amazed the nuns never heard the taunts from the young boys. By middle school, Mary was convinced that "Nuns on the Playground" were deaf.
In High School, the boys loved to tease the "Virgin Mary."
"Can I help you get rid of that "Virgin Image?"
"Jesus Christ Mary, let's try the real way for a baby boy."
"How about an ejaculate conception!"
In truth, most of the boys truly wanted to know her, be with her, possibly love her, and definitely sleep with her.
It began with her voice. In middle school, the choir director asked her to sing a solo, the opening number for the Christmas Celebration. The room became silent when she began to sing. Her voice rang with innocence, pure, clear, holy, and loving. Mary was modest and unassuming. She didn't know just how talented she was.
Her parents and teachers assumed from that point on that she would end up in music school and on the concert stage.
She remembers the night she told her parents about her real passion.
"I want to study writing and forensics." She did not expect the response she got from her father.
"You want to be a policewoman or a writer? Possibly, write true crime stories?"
Her father was livid. "That is not the image I want for my daughter. Besides it is dangerous. I won't pay for it. You can do it if you want but not on my dime."
Mother would plead with her, "You need to be a music teacher. You need to sing. God gave you this talent. You must use it. Besides, what kind of man is going to want a detective for a wife? You must think about your future, dear."
And so, she went to music school.
And she sang.
The audience loved her.
Her mother's prediction came true. She became an opera singer. She found a man who claimed to love her. A year later they were married in a Catholic Ceremony.
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"Joe's Narrative"
I love my small house. One bedroom is adequate. I have no pictures on the wall. That is a frivolity that I don't need. What use are pictures of people who supposedly care about me? I do have a new manly recliner, but mostly I buy from goodwill. I have better things to do with my money than buying expensive things.
She had no idea who she was dealing with. She made the choice to be the victim. All she would have had to do is smile at me, pay some attention to me, and give me good service. Well, she's smiling now, isn't she?
I went to one of my favorite restaurants. My waitress was more interested in the jock table next to me.
"What do you boys need from me today? She seemed to imply she was ready for anything.
A few snickers from the boys rewarded her efforts.
"And I mean drinks, you naughty boys."
You could tell she would offer more if the tips were good.
It took her a full fifteen minutes before she even noticed me and then only because I spoke.
"Ma'am, I need a drink please." She looked up annoyed at the interruption to her conquest.
"Hold on sir. I'll be right there," she turned, flipped her hair and reluctantly approached me. She quickly took my order.
If she had only left it at that she might still be alive today. She couldn't resist one more attempt to show off for the boys.
She thought I didn't see her, however, my table faced the bar. There was a large, ornate mirror behind it. While my back was turned to her, she resorted to sign language. She caught the boy's eyes. She held up her pinky and pointed to me. She was estimating the size of my manhood.
Sorry, Sweetie, that small gesture set your future, or should I say lack of future. Later that very night, she would have the pleasure of discovering just how big I truly am.
It was easy to pick the trashy, silver, glittery buttons for her. I keep jars and jars of different colored buttons in my closet, all different sizes, shapes, and styles. Some cheap and trashy, some extravagant and expensive. Just like people.
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William Standish
With a beautiful, young, opera singer as his new wife, William's conducting career exploded. Places would double book them, the up and coming director and his beautiful diva Soprano. Mary was a definite business asset.
It took her about six months of marriage to realize he was in love with her voice, not her.
The criticism started quickly, as soon as they got home from their honeymoon. At first, he tried to be nice about it.
"Dear, did no one ever show you the proper way to load a dishwasher?"
"The house really does need your attention. Details, sweetheart, details."
"My mother did it this way." Gradually the comments became harsher,
more frustrated, more demanding.
"You don't get it, do you? How could someone be so stupid?"
"Did you have a maid growing up?
Don't eat too much, we don't need a fat soprano?"
'Go back and change, we have an image to maintain? "
The sex was perfunctory. It was when he wanted, where he wanted and how he wanted. Occasionally it pleased her, but not often and then only when she pretended it was with someone else. She remembered what the priest had told them when they were young. "Your husband is the leader of the household. You must make him happy. When your husband asks you for "Marital Relationships" you must accommodate him."
Her logical mind questioned this. Why is a priest who supposedly never had sex telling me how to handle my sexuality? Her upbringing made her follow the teachings. She sincerely tried to make it work. She tried to be a good wife.
At first, the "Opera Duo" was hired nationally and internationally. They performed in Italy, Germany, and France. The first four years of marriage were a whirlwind of travel, exotic places, late parties, star treatment. Slowly, the opera gigs started to happen less and less.
The opera companies loved her voice, her demeanor, her professionalism, but they found her husband temperamental, too quick to anger. Many musicians refused to work with him. His ego wouldn't allow her to take jobs on her own, so her career also suffered.
Mary was secretly pleased when William decided to go on a sabbatical to Europe. He would be gone for six months. Teaching at an Ivy League school as "Artist in Residence". This sabbatical came with a large stipend and it was plenty for him to live on in Europe.
She pretended to care as she drove him to the airport. Inside her heart was singing for the first time in years. When he called and explained they wanted him to stay another two years, she faked tears and acted like it mattered. "Whatever you want dear?"
After William left, Mary started to make decisions on her own. She secretly opened a bank account in her name.
There is no divorce in the Catholic World, at least not at this point. She wasn't brave enough to approach that subject yet.
Luckily there were no children. It wasn't really luck. The pill works whether your husband knows about it or not. She knew she was breaking the church's rules but for some reason, it didn't bother her. Bill was too selfish to care, however, he once said, "See, you don't know how to be a wife. You can't even get pregnant."
Mary took a few writing courses at the local university. She wanted to write true crime stories. She lucked into an experimental study. The New York Police public relations office was sponsoring the study. Students were allowed to ride around with real detectives to follow local stories. Mary hand-delivered her application. The committee loved her. "You can start next week. Go to the station and ask for a Detective Delaney.
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Joe
I think my mother only knew clichés.
I am practically sure she never had an original thought in her head.
Stand up, boy.
Boys don't cry.
What are you blubbering about?
You want a reason to cry?
Pussy, that's what they call boys like you.
And my favorite,
Button It Up, Boy.
Ironically, there was a button factory in the next county. When I moved out I knew I wanted a job there. I wanted to know how buttons were made. I wanted to check out the colors, dimensions, textures.
I hid the fact that beneath my awkwardness was intelligence.
I quickly learned to turn off my tear ducts. Scientifically, they respond to emotion or irritants but my eyes didn't cry. I didn't stand out. I blended in like tears do in the sea.
Some learn on small animals, birds, squirrels, baby kittens but I jumped right in.
You probably think my mother would be my first but I needed practice.
The first one was the easiest and the hardest. The sewing came after they were dead
Mom deserved much better.
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Delaney
Sergeant Delaney knew he would be a cop from the age of five. With a name like Delaney, it just seemed destined. Now, he had been assigned a young writer by the name of Mary Standish. Public relations says she was to be treated as one of the detectives. She was to take notes and make suggestions in the cases. Why do I have to deal with this amateur?
Delaney followed orders and sent her the details from the first death, Father Mac Murphy. Now, there was a second murder. Similar pattern. The suspect buttoned their mouth shut. He told her to meet him at the crime scene.
The blond was beautiful, well as beautiful as a dead Barbie doll could be. It was the neatly stitched buttons that caught his eye. Glittery, silver buttons, sewn into her lips. Five to be exact. Equally spaced. Shining in the sun. They pulled her lips up into a gruesome smile.
A couple found her while they were on an early morning jog. They noticed something glittering from a block away. As they jogged closer the reality set. The husband called 911. They were standing to the right next to the cop car, the first one to respond. The girl was crying, obviously scared to death. The body wasn't even hidden. It was proudly displayed next to a dumpster, making sure that the sun caught her smile.
She wore short shorts and a checkered shirt, tied at the waist to show her belly. It too had been buttoned shut. Delaney recognized it as the uniform from Shorty's Bar and Grill. It was a knock off on the more famous "Hooters". There was one close by the scene. He put that on his short list go visit. Mary arrived on time in her blue crown Victoria.
She stared at the body. It was an early summer morning but the saturated heat in New York was already creating a nasty spell. She took the small jar of Ben-gay gel from her bag. She dipped in and put it lightly on her nose. She had seen that in "Silence of the Lambs". While it didn't eliminate the smell, it definitely helped.
She felt a tug on her stomach, both good and bad. It was a feeling close to stage fright, a mixture of fear, hope, desperation and excitement.
She had only met Delaney once before this, and he did not seem eager to have her on his team. He stood and looked at Mary directly. "Okay, this is it. Let's see if that Master's Degree taught you to evaluate a real murder."
"She looks to be between 19 and 25. She is in great shape and works out. Her nails are meticulously manicured, except for the pointer and second finger on her left hand. She was probably left handed and used that hand to defend herself. She has been strangled with some sort of a small rope, probably a nylon one, since there are very few fibers in the neck area. She lifted the corpse's shirt. Her abdomen had been carved open and buttoned shut, the same silver ones. The crime didn't happen here. This I is just the drop zone. She smells of bleach."
Pretty good thought Delaney. Not great but a good beginning. The medical examiner arrived. Estimated time of death was 8 to ten hours. It was now 8:30 a.m.
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Joe
She did die without too much pain. At one point I thought of doing what I had to do to her while she was still alive but when I saw in her eyes the involuntary pleasure as I entered her, I felt some small feeling for her. I put the rope around her neck and gently told her, "Its okay, I have some awful things I have to do to you so it is better that I kill you now. Otherwise, it will be just too painful. I truly am trying to save you that."
I know enough about science to know I have to cover up DNA. My skin is probably on her, maybe under her nails. I should have used a condom so that has to be dealt with too. I did buy spermicide I needed to make sure my little tadpoles didn't have a chance. According to the church, I shouldn't use this. I felt a brief moment of guilt. But she was dead, therefore she could not be a proper oven. So I think it was okay to kill the little guys before they got frustrated trying to find an egg.
But what if one of my little guys was so strong it already swam up the sea. That meant I had to carve a portion of her body away. Sorry, not allowed to leave girl parts.
I put her in the bathtub. Filled it with bleach. I cleaned her fingernails and soaked them in the tub for an hour. I put her head underwater to make sure she was well disinfected before I began carving. I didn't really enjoy this part, but it was a necessity. The bleach water turned a nice shade of pink. I've always liked pink.
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After Shorty's, Mary suggested they go to the Church.
A rush of emotion invaded her body. She hadn't been there in years. She avoided church. Her thoughts wandered,Ã?Â
"Was it always this beautiful, but I just couldn't see it. � She looked around the sanctuary, viewed the beautiful polished wood, the story telling stain glass. She remembered the statues, the prayer candles, the kneeling rails.
She remembered Sister Margarite.
Sister Margarite was entirely too pretty to be a nun. Her eyes were blue and pure. He smile was engaging. Most women need hair to be beautiful, but since her habit covered her hair all you could see was the perfectly shaped face. Even her skin was flawless. It was her heart that was the most engaging.
Margarite would be the one who would run to any child on the playground who fell. She would lovingly help them to the infirmary. She would gently clean the scraped knees, all the while comforting them with soft words of understanding. She watched them as they came back out and joined the others in the games we were playing.
As I child, I was comforted by her. As an adult, I always questioned why she chose the life of a nun. What had hurt her so much that she withdrew from the outside world? Maybe she was truly called like the saint Mother Teresa.
Delaney woke her from her thoughts abruptly. "Where is the office where we can speak to the people in charge?"
"This way. � Just follow me." � She led him out of the Sanctuary and into the next building. At this point, there had not been a new Head Master appointed. She did not recognize the father that was in the office.
Delaney pulled out his badge and introduced them as investigators.
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Margarite was in the back of the church preparing the candles for Sunday Mass when Delaney and Mary walked in. She had always been quiet. She liked observing people. She often kept her presence unknown when people came to the church. She liked to study them and see why they were there. Some would only pray in silence, some openly talked to god.
She remembered the time a teenage girl came in. Nervous, anxious, afraid of something. She heard her quietly speak to God.
"Father, I have sinned. I don't know what to do. I am going to have a child. I am not sure I can do this. I haven't told my family. My Father will hate me. My Mother will cry. They will be so disappointed with me. I am so afraid."
She waited until the girl was quiet than made her presence known. She asked her softly. "Is there some way I can help you, child?" She listened without judgment as the girl poured her heart out to her.
She thought the boy loved her, but as soon as she told him about the baby things changed. It was obvious he could care less. "Well, that can be taken care of." He callously told her,"You will have to find money. Make sure you don't tell anyone. I will find out where you need to go to get rid of it."
"I could never get rid of it," tears filled her eyes,"That thought never entered my mind. I believe in the Catholic church. He is Catholic too. How could he even suggest that?" She relayed the rest of the story. He had yelled� at her. He told her it was her fault. � He tried to bully her into an abortion. � "I'll deny it he said. I can't be the father. Besides, how do I know you didn't have sex with other men? You acted like you really liked it."
Margarite was a natural counselor. She kept opinions and doctrine out of her comforting words. She simply helped the girl to make her own decision and to wait for the lord's counsel.
A year later, the young mother and her family came to the church to show Margarite her beautiful daughter. They cried together when they talked about that night. Her Father thanked Margarite for helping his daughter. His Grandchild was the delight of his life. He also asked his daughter's forgiveness. "I didn't respond well when you told me, but God is wonderful and now we know that it was meant to be."
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There was something familiar about the woman who had come in. It took her several minutes before she recognized Mary. Mary, the girl with the angel voice. Mary, the one who was so violently teased. Mary. who was so smart. Mary, who never realized how special she was. Mary, who had no idea how the boys wanted her.
Yes, she was a nun, but she recognized lust in a man when she saw it. Almost every young man at school wanted to be with the elusive Mary.
She waited until they left the church. She softly followed them until they found Father John, the newest priest to join their parish.
Joe
Cockroaches are hard to kill. My house sometimes has those three-inch tree ones that find their way into your kitchen. I keep a clean house, but somehow a few always find a way in.Ã?Â
This one was extremely large. I named him Charles. He avoided me for three days straight. I would catch a fleeting glimpse and then he would find some small crack to magical disappear into. Maybe I should have named him Houdini, but Charles it was. I turned the lights on late one night and I managed to see him in the middle of the kitchen. He had too far to go and I stepped on him full force with my slippers. When I lifted my foot that little bugger scurried away. I brought out the bug spray. I sprayed until I couldn't breathe anymore and then went to bed. Sure enough the next morning he was laying in the kitchen on his back. Even then when I lightly touched him his legs would still move. Finally several hours later he was still.
Humans have protection too. They are not that easy to kill. Since Father Mac Murphy was my first, I quickly found out the human body fights death.
I followed his moves. I went to church several Sundays until I found the perfect time to make things right. There was an announcement during the service about Father Mac Murphy.
� "We are honored that our very own Father Mac Murphy has been invited to Italy for an audience with the Pope. This brings great honor to our church and our community. We wish him well as he leaves early Tuesday morning."
This would give me the opportunity I needed. I had watched him for weeks. Every� night he went for a walk in the woods behind the church at nine o'clock. That was where he drank his flask of Whisky before bedtime.
He had plans to call a Taxi at one in the morning to take him to the airport. That call would never be made. The Church would assume he was in Rome. They wouldn't know anything was wrong for at least two weeks.
I waited on his path. Hammer in hand ready to strike. I am not a small man and I am very strong. Hatred also makes you stronger. When he rounded the path, I waited until he had the flask up gulping his favorite beverage. I struck him in the back of the head hard. In my innocence, I thought that would be enough. He fell down hard and grabbed his head confused and scared, not sure what had just happened. So I quickly struck again. This one made him fall to the ground but he kept trying to get up. All in all, it took me ten vicious blows before he would stay down. Even then he reminded me of Charles, feet still moving. Eventually, blood filled the path and it was over.
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Telling Mother
When I was Twelve I started to figure out what Father Mac Murphy was doing was wrong. He spent less and less time with me. I saw some of the younger boys going towards his office. It took me so many years to realize that he was using me. It was for some sick pleasure I didn't understand but had participated in for years. It was wrong in the eyes of the Church. It was wrong in the eyes of the world. I had seen the posters for children. When someone is hurting you tell an adult. Don't keep quiet.
Back then I still had a small belief that my Mother loved me. One night when Mother was being unusually nice to me I told her what he had done.
The slap came seconds afterward.
"How dare you accuse a man of the church of this unspeakable act."
"What the hell are you thinking?"
"I knew you were not meant to live. I even tried to stop it. But the church wouldn't allow it and you were born. You brought me shame then and you still do now."Ã?Â
She Slapped me again.
"You will never speak of this again."
And I didn't - until one night with Cindy.
She listened so softly and it calmed me. Afterward, she held me especially tight and repeated,
"You are my favorite. You will always be my favorite."
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Mary and Elizabeth
"Start with Elizabeth." Delaney liked giving orders. "Find out what happened to her back then. See if she is still in the area. Make an appointment with her as soon as possible."
Finding Elizabeth was easy. Her Grandparents still lived in the neighborhood by the School.
The initial phone call was touching.
"Mary," Elizabeth said, "Of course I remember you. You sang so wonderfully when we were at school."
"Yes, I did hear about Father MacMurphy. No, I wouldn't mind talking to you about it."
Elizabeth was a teacher now. They arranged to meet at her school around 4 p.m.
Elizabeth's third-grade classroom was inviting.
- Large bulletin boards with hand colored creations from 8-year-old students lined the room. -
-� Bright posters with sight words.
- A reading corner with a bean bag.
- Jars of pencils on her desk.
- Another corner had math manipulates to help visualize equations.
There were tiny desks in straight rows, so empty in the afternoon. Each child's name proudly displayed in the right corner.
There were pictures of Elizabeth's husband and children proudly displayed on the desk.
Elizabeth was stamping happy faces on worksheets when Mary walked in. She stood up, walked to Mary and hugged her.Ã?Â
"I was so surprised to hear that you were investigating this murder. I heard about it on the news several weeks ago. I would like to tell you that I shed a few tears over it. The truth is I was happy. � I know it's a sin, but I am glad he is dead."
They talked about her last day at that school. She told Mary her parents response. She was so forthcoming that Mary almost immediately eliminated her from any kind of suspect list.
"Mary, why did we allow people to treat us like that? What was their power over us? How did we get there in the first place? That was the most painful and humiliating day of my life."
She was eager to tell her story.
"I was lucky, I had parents truly believe� in the Catholic religion but they also love� me. I ran home about 4:30. Mom usually got home around 5:30. Dad around 6. I honestly didn't know how to feel. I had hiked up my skirt to be shorter. I wanted the boys to notice me, but not in the way Father Mac Murphy thought."
"Men can't control themselves when they see women flaunting their bodies." He kept repeating.
"I truly had no Idea what he meant."
He slammed down the ruler again and again. � I wanted to jump but I had been trained that if you sit still they won't do it again. I had no idea how wrong I was.
"Slut."
Slam.
"Whore."
Slam.
"Opening your legs?"Ã?Â
� "I didn't even know what that meant. I was waiting for my first kiss."
Slam.
"As soon as I could, I ran home. I washed my wounds. I put ice on them. I was crying uncontrollably when Mama came in.
"Darling what is wrong?"
I had two broken fingers and the rest were ugly, swelling� and turning purple and yellow.� I tried and tried to tell her what had happened, but I kept saying I'm sorry, I pulled up my skirt.� I am sinful.
It wasn't until my Father came home that I truly was able to tell the story.� I thought dad would be mad. His reaction shocked me. "How dare that excuse for a man touch my daughter." � He wanted to go to the school at that moment.
But Mama knew better. "We are taking her to the hospital."
"The nurses treated me gently. The X-rays showed severe trauma but they bandaged them. They gave me something for the pain and at least for that night I slept.
"The next day, Mama and Papa took me out of that school. They filed a lawsuit. I didn't know what that was either.� We moved to another suburb. I actually went to public school and enjoyed it."
"At one point I noticed that my Parents had more money than usual. I had no idea it was "Catholic Shut Up Money" but my parents told me I was going to college."
"And I did."
--------------------------------------------------------
Delaney and Mary
Delaney and Mary were looking over the long list of students, faculty, and custodians from the school. There had to be a reason the school was connected to this.
Delaney caught it first. The initial investigation had been from local cops. They had looked through his apartment at the school. They did a cursory investigation of his computer. They found little or nothing on it. Way too little. That bothered Delaney. The man was intelligent. He wouldn't have left out in the open incriminating evidence. They didn't take his computer to forensics. They didn't check for hidden walls or hiding places. His computer showed nothing but bible studies.
Since he was the victim, they didn't look for "Why" he was the victim.
Be realistic, No man was that innocent. No ugly emails. No pictures of women. He had investigated priests before and they were experts at hiding their carnal side.
So he told Mary," Let's go look at his apartment."
Ã? Ã?Â
When they opened the door behind the police tape, they noticed immediately just how clean this place was, impulsively clean.
Even his socks were folded neatly in the drawers. Everything had a place. There were lists everywhere, on his desk, in the bathroom, in the bedroom, the closet. Everywhere, rules for living"
The knives and forks were meticulously put in the kitchen drawer. All the same direction, no space between.
Obsessive compulsive.
"Mary", he instructed, look for something out of place. Look for something that doesn't seem right."
Mary followed directions. In the bedroom, she noticed a slight discoloration in the paneling on the bedroom wall. It looked like one panel was newer than the others. It was a small detail, but once she noticed it. It struck her as odd.
Why would one panel be different than the others? Someone had replaced it.
"Delaney," she called, "I think I have found something."
He agreed. They both fingered the panel. Then they noticed it was loose. Delaney started pressing it. First at the top, then slowly he kept pushing until it popped open. Sure enough here was the stash. It had a hidden spring door. Inside were video tapes, child pornography, hidden, explicit hand written diaries.
He was a child molester. The rantings were so self-serving. It was as if he believed he was called to make young boys know the pleasures of the world. He especially liked the boys without fathers. He could pretend he was teaching them.
--------------------------------------------------------------
Delaney was confused.
The only connection were the buttons. The two crimes were so different.
Mac Murphy
Priest
Pedophile
Blunt object probably a hammer to the head
Left in the dirt
Frown created by buttons with religious symbols
Waitress
Sexually assaulted
Carved and humiliated
No religious connection
Strangled first, mutilated later
Cleaned meticulously
Gaudy Smile Created by buttons
Delaney searched the archives for button crimes. Nothing came up.
So far, only two unrelated murders.
Mary sat across him at the same diner they had gone to the last time. He again ordered a large plate of food. Mary still was eating conservatively.
"The first question is obvious," He said to Mary, " Where do the buttons come from?"
He began making a list of where they would go next
� � 1. Button Factory
� � 2. The church had given them a list of over 40 names, with last known addresses and phone numbers, including Elizabeth's.
� � 3. Shorty's� -The bar was close by. They needed to interview the workers there quickly
� Memories fade fast. They better go now.
So Shorties it was.
They went in the early afternoon, the day after they discovered the body.
The manager was nervous. He had never been this close to a murder. "Should we be afraid?"
Delaney looked surprised when Mary spoke up. � "No, no, rarely does a killer return right after a crime. We just need as much background about the victim as possible."
Her name was Destiny Moore. She had worked at Shorty's for six months. She was a good waitress and was highly tipped. He provided them with the information on her application.
Next, they started interviewing other waitresses. They were all fearful and full of questions.
Only one waitress had anything negative to say about her.
"I didn't like the way she treated some of her customers. If they were going to be fun, she would go all out for that table. She was rude to the ones who weren't up to her standards. I had the section next to her that night. She played up to a table of Jocks. They ate it up. But the guy at the next table basically got ignored. He wasn't a bad looking guy, I have waited on him before. But he was awkward. He had trouble starting a conversation and he always came in alone. However, I was nice to him and he always left me a great tip. I remember Destiny was joking with the jock table. She whispered some sexual jokes to the jocks, I think they might have been about him. She was furious that night when he left her three pennies as a tip."
The jock table had all paid with individual cash cards. They would be easy to find. The lone guy had paid in cash. No lead there.
Would someone really kill over bad service? Maybe not, but many murderers will kill when they were humiliated in public. It was a definite lead.
------------------------------------------------------------
Joe
They haven't found my Boss Yet.
You know, the guy that told me I was nothing, worthless, just some cherry picking button maker.
It was so easy to get him fired. I spent many nights after the others had left the factory.
Usually, it was me and the security guy left.
Yes, in the actual factory work went on all night, but I was a line worker and a supervisor. Early on in my work at the button factory, management noticed my designing skills.
I would submit pictures of buttons I thought would sell. Ã? I took my time. Ã? I was meticulous. I drew them so beautifully, so lovingly. Ã? I imagined the most intimate, colorful, creative buttons. I would leave them for the morning executives to admire. My boss accepted five of my designs. Now, I have permission to use their designer room after hours.Ã?Â
My supervisor was jealous.� He was sure I was after his job. He never lost a chance to put me down or try to humiliate me.
Dumbass, couldn't you read behind my eyes. Ã? I am not someone to mess with. Ã?Â
It was simple to put child pornography on his computer. Father Mac Murphy had shown me how to access it on the Internet when I was a child.
I waited, remember I am patient, for several weeks to make the anonymous call to the business hotline." We have a computer problem at the button factory. Children are involved."
I was clever, I was able to tie it to his home computer. When the warrant came for his arrest, he denied it vehemently.
He was going to jail. I killed him while he was out on bail. Everyone just assumed he skipped town.
He wasn't skipping now.
He was at the bottom of an abandoned well in the city park. I sewed a huge dull beige button around his mouth giving him a look of surprise.
Oh, I also buttoned up his asshole.
--------------------------------------------------------
After Shorty's, Mary suggested they go to the Church.
A rush of emotion invaded her body. She hadn't been there in years. She avoided church. Her thoughts wandered,Ã?Â
"Was it always this beautiful, but I just couldn't see it. � She looked around the sanctuary, viewed the beautiful polished wood, the story telling stain glass. She remembered the statues, the prayer candles, the kneeling rails.
She remembered Sister Margarite.
Sister Margarite was entirely too pretty to be a nun. Her eyes were blue and pure. He smile was engaging. Most women need hair to be beautiful, but since her habit covered her hair all you could see was the perfectly shaped face. Even her skin was flawless. It was her heart that was the most engaging.
Margarite would be the one who would run to any child on the playground who fell. She would lovingly help them to the infirmary. She would gently clean the scraped knees, all the while comforting them with soft words of understanding. She watched them as they came back out and joined the others in the games we were playing.
As I child, I was comforted by her. As an adult, I always questioned why she chose the life of a nun. What had hurt her so much that she withdrew from the outside world? Maybe she was truly called like the saint Mother Teresa.
Delaney woke her from her thoughts abruptly. "Where is the office where we can speak to the people in charge?"
"This way. � Just follow me." � She led him out of the Sanctuary and into the next building. At this point, there had not been a new Head Master appointed. She did not recognize the father that was in the office.
Delaney pulled out his badge and introduced them as investigators.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Margarite was in the back of the church preparing the candles for Sunday Mass when Delaney and Mary walked in. She had always been quiet. She liked observing people. She often kept her presence unknown when people came to the church. She liked to study them and see why they were there. Some would only pray in silence, some openly talked to god.
She remembered the time a teenage girl came in. Nervous, anxious, afraid of something. She heard her quietly speak to God.
"Father, I have sinned. I don't know what to do. I am going to have a child. I am not sure I can do this. I haven't told my family. My Father will hate me. My Mother will cry. They will be so disappointed with me. I am so afraid."
She waited until the girl was quiet than made her presence known. She asked her softly. "Is there some way I can help you, child?" She listened without judgment as the girl poured her heart out to her.
She thought the boy loved her, but as soon as she told him about the baby things changed. It was obvious he could care less. "Well, that can be taken care of." He callously told her,"You will have to find money. Make sure you don't tell anyone. I will find out where you need to go to get rid of it."
"I could never get rid of it," tears filled her eyes,"That thought never entered my mind. I believe in the Catholic church. He is Catholic too. How could he even suggest that?" She relayed the rest of the story. He had yelled� at her. He told her it was her fault. � He tried to bully her into an abortion. � "I'll deny it he said. I can't be the father. Besides, how do I know you didn't have sex with other men? You acted like you really liked it."
Margarite was a natural counselor. She kept opinions and doctrine out of her comforting words. She simply helped the girl to make her own decision and to wait for the lord's counsel.
A year later, the young mother and her family came to the church to show Margarite her beautiful daughter. They cried together when they talked about that night. Her Father thanked Margarite for helping his daughter. His Grandchild was the delight of his life. He also asked his daughter's forgiveness. "I didn't respond well when you told me, but God is wonderful and now we know that it was meant to be."
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
There was something familiar about the woman who had come in. It took her several minutes before she recognized Mary. Mary, the girl with the angel voice. Mary, the one who was so violently teased. Mary. who was so smart. Mary, who never realized how special she was. Mary, who had no idea how the boys wanted her.
Yes, she was a nun, but she recognized lust in a man when she saw it. Almost every young man at school wanted to be with the elusive Mary.
She waited until they left the church. She softly followed them until they found Father John, the newest priest to join their parish.
By jusylee72
Mary finds her voice
First person
It's time to tell my story. What a journey it has been. The first ones who loved me were my parents. They wanted what was best for me. Sadly, I was not allowed to choose. My father did. He was so sure he knew what was best for his little girl. He knew a good marriage, a man to protect me, the use of the voice God gave me was the path I should take. Little did he know, that I would find a controlling husband who truly never loved me and was only interested in his image, not mine.
During the marriage, I found a different manager, William. I knew it from the beginning. I just never was able to stand up for myself. He had all the power for one simple reason. I allowed it. I was the good little wife My goal was to please him, protect him from his own stupidity, his own selfishness.
Sadly, the one man who truly loved me was a damaged soul. Joe was born into hell. A mother who blamed him for ruining her life. A priest who took a little boy and showed him the evil of molestation. A boy so vulnerable, but blessed with an intelligence that destroyed him. Yet, even at the end, he tried to protect and love me.
Also, the virgin myth. So many religions believe women are to be pure. Vestal virgins, unclean if they admit desiring sex and intimacy.
By jusylee72
A brief description of these characters from other chapters in the book.
Joe, abused by a priest and his mother in childhood, seeks revenge against to those who hurts him. He murders them then buttons various parts of their bodies in ways to humiliate them.
Mary, Young talented opera singer. She was raised a Catholic and pushed into a wedding with an overbearing abusive husband who is a conductor for the opera, William who is self-centered is just returning from a two-year sabbatical overseas. He expects to come home to his submissive wife. Instead, Mary has followed another desire. The desire to be a true crime writer. She is put with Detective Delaney on an experimental public relations exercise that allows her to work on the crime with him. They are investigating the murders that Joe has committed. William texts her to say he is bringing home a young opera singer and that he has accepted an invitation for the new artist, Cherry Churchill to play Carmen, himself as the conductor and Mary as Micaela. They are to leave for Houston the following week.
Mary has other ideas and though she is a devout catholic she is ready to move on and ask for a divorce.
Cindy, an over age prostitute is the only person who has shown Joe any type of love. She is motherly and at the same time teaches him how to be a lover that few women can resist.
There are many other people, who, like Mary and Joe, all went to the same Catholic School. Katherine was the most popular girl back in high school. When the priest of their church is murdered it is discovered that he was a pedophile. All the former students are called to the church for the investigation. The ones in Mary's class go out to the bar after the meeting. That is when Katherine who has married a rich lawyer seventeen years her senior, tells everyone she wants to host a class reunion. There are many other characters, but for this chapter, these are the ones you need to understand.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Delaney was getting pressured to finish the investigation. The Captain called him in.
"Look, Delaney, It's pretty open and shut. We have the evidence: the buttons in Ralph's office, the Child pornography. It all points to one unsub. One sick guy who used and ruined these people."
Delaney had a quick answer. "So many things just don't fit. Why the priest? What is the connection with the Catholic Church? Why did he want to kill him? The only thing connecting them are the buttons in his desk. Peterson had nothing to do with Mac Murphy. He went to public schools. He is Protestant. Why would he hate a priest he never knew? I think someone set him up. The only connection in both murders is the buttons. How do we know he even knew the waitress? This is a setup. I know it is."
The Captain chose another approach. "The community wants this solved. They don't want to worry about their children. Can you guarantee me it isn't Peterson? He sure loved boys. His computers prove it. Have you tried to find him? Come on lets at least acknowledge that he is the main suspect. Get moving on this. We can't have a whole community waiting for real answers. I will give you two more weeks to prove your theories. After that, I will move you to a different case. Time to move on. You know it as well as I do."
As Delaney walked out of the office, questions popped into his mind. Does the Captain think I don't know what I'm doing? I have checked out Peterson. He simply disappeared. None of his bank accounts have been touched. No one has heard from him. His ex-wife has no idea what happened to him? She defended him on the child abuse stories. He had it in his notes.
He took out his notebook and reviewed her statement. "Ralph may have been a lousy husband but he would never have touched a child. His weakness was prostitutes. That's one of the reasons I left him. One woman wasn't enough for him. Besides that, he didn't want children. I did. I wanted a family. He refused. He said children were annoying creatures and the idea of having to take care of them was not something he ever wanted to do."
Child molesters love having children around. Even if they don't touch their own children they want other children around them. They love to pick the vulnerable ones. They play a game with them. Treating them special and wanting them in their lives. No, it just doesn't fit. But how am I going to find Peterson?
The sky darkened as he walked to his car. He saw lightning in the distance and heard the far-off thunder. He shuddered at the sudden cool wind that almost blew his hat off.
"I've always liked a good storm. This looks like a huge one blowing in. I better get back to my office.
_------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Back at his office, Delaney turned on the news. The weatherman was standing in front of the screen. "The national weather service has issued a severe thunderstorm warning. This area will experience considerable rain. The storms may produce large hail. The conditions are in place for tornados. Please advise citizens and seek shelter immediately."
Delaney walked to his favorite cabinet. He kept emergency Jack Daniels on hand for a night like this. His watch read six o'clock. Looks like I might as well camp here for the night. He poured himself a tall drink and sat at his desk. Grabbing a candy bar from the drawer in his desk he sat down to think. It can't be this simple. Where is Peterson? The internet makes it almost impossible to disappear these days. The only other choice is something happened to him. But what? His car is at his house. No money has been withdrawn. Slowly, his eyes started to close and sleep found him.
A boom of thunder woke Delaney from his dream. Hail clamored against his office window. How long have I been out? Glancing at his watch he realized it was two in the morning. His old office building overlooked the city park. Down below the wind hammered the trees. Even behind his bulletproof windows, he heard the wind ripping the leaves off the branches. Lightning illuminated a towering tree, its branches waving goodbye as it tried to stand up to the storm. Below the tree, the original town well still stood, the bucket swinging and clattering against its walls. The torrential rains threatened to fill it to the brim. A bolt of lightning and a crash of thunder vibrated the windows. The tree toppled onto the well, split down the middle and on fire. The ancient bricks of the well shattered from the tremendous weight of the falling tree.
At first, Delaney couldn't get back to sleep after watching the death of the such a magnificent gift of nature. He kept the soft side of him quiet. No one knew how tragedy really affected him. He played in that park as a child. He remembered throwing coins and making wishes in the old well. His mother read the historical metal plate to him and explained its life story. Luckily the electricity managed to stay on. He turned to the TV for an update on the storm. Several hours later when the storm calmed, he slept like a baby on the office couch.
Who would have guessed that the old well would honor a wish he didn't know he made? And it didn't even cost a dime.
By jusylee72
Mary hesitated in front of her door, the keys in her hand. "You have to do this. Just get it over with."
She opened the door. Loud laughter greeted her as she walked in. An attractive woman sat on the couch, cheese and a cracker in her hand.
"You are so witty, William. You always know how to make me smile. Wait, and who is this? Oh, it must be Mary. Hi Mary, I am Cherry, Cherry Churchill. Your husband is so funny and smart. I so appreciate you letting me stay here before we start our new adventure."
She would have kept talking if William hadn't spoken up. "Well, hello dear, I was beginning to get worried. Where have you been?"
"Many things have changed since you've been gone, William."
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