Death in the Choir (16 page)

“Look, I don’t want to hurt you, so let’s just calm
down.” He extracted a clean handkerchief from his pocket and gave it to her. She
clutched it against her lips.

“I’m sorry for hurting you, I really am. I had too
much to drink. Let me take you home.”

Francesca was now trembling from head to foot. She
wanted to believe he was having a change of heart, but she didn’t trust him.
She decided to play it safe.
I’ll go
along with whatever he says.
 
I’ll act
like nothing unusual has happened. If I can just get home safely, everything
will be fine.
She kept seeing an image of Tubs at home waiting for her. She
tried flashing Thomas a smile, hoping it didn’t look too much like a grimace.

“Yes, Thomas, why don’t you take me home?” She tried
to assume a normal tone of voice. “We’ve had a long evening and a lot to drink.
I think we both need some rest.”

He helped her into her jacket, and they stepped
outside. He opened the car door for her, and she slipped inside as if nothing
had happened. It was only a short drive to her house. She was silent in the
car, but her mind was racing.

I don’t want this guy in my
house, so I’ll have to act quickly when we get there. If I see someone on the
street, I’ll start screaming or make a big scene. I’ll yell something about
calling the police.

But as they drove down her street, she noted with
desperation that it was deserted. She could see lights flickering in many of
the windows.
All my neighbors are sealed
inside their houses, watching TV. Even if I start screaming, they wouldn’t hear
me.

She did the only thing she knew to do under the
circumstances. She prayed
. Lord Jesus
Christ, Son of the living God, have mercy on me. N
ext she petitioned St.
Joseph, as she always had as a child.
Holy
St. Joseph, pray for me; please help me.

Then she said the prayer that had comforted her since
childhood, when she had first held rosary beads in her hands.
  

“Hail Mary, full of grace,
the Lord is with thee, blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit
of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at
the hour of our death. Amen.”

For the first time, the closing words probed painfully
at a deep place in her heart.
Is this the
hour of my death?

As Thomas was parking the car in her driveway,
Francesca saw her chance. As soon as he opens his door and gets out, I’ll jump
out and make a run for it. But her hands were shaking as she fumbled with her
seatbelt, and Thomas was out of the car and at her side before she could undo
it. Without a word, he released her seatbelt, then grasped her arm in a very
firm and determined way. She realized there was no chance of escaping. And
unless she thought of something very quickly, it was clear that he planned to
accompany her inside her house.

“I want to come in for a few minutes and explain.” His
tone of voice was apologetic as he helped her out of the car. “I really need
someone to talk to.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea, Thomas. It’s been a
long evening and I’m exhausted.” She could tell her voice had a frantic edge to
it, despite her attempt to keep calm.

His grip tightened ever so slightly on her arm. “I’ll
only stay a few minutes, I promise.”

Refusing him may incite him
to more violence. I’d better do as he says.
With her heart sinking, she walked up the steps and
unlocked the front door. He managed to get inside before she did, so any last
minute attempt to slam the door in his face was squelched. Once inside, he sat
down on the couch in her living room. He started flipping through a magazine as
if nothing had happened.

She wasn’t sure what she should do. Her mouth was dry
with fear. She reached down to pet Tubs, sitting by the rocking chair, but he
sensed her fear. He immediately scampered downstairs to his hiding place in the
basement. She perched on the edge of the rocking chair and continued her silent
prayers:
Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray
for me. Sweet Jesus, Lord God, please don’t let him hurt me.

Then she noticed the light on her phone machine was
blinking. Since she and Thomas seemed to be playing a charade of normalcy, she
decided to do what she would usually do under everyday circumstances. She hit
the play button. She was startled to hear
Tony’s
voice. He sounded worried.

“Francesca, it’s me, Tony. If you’re there, pick up
the phone. I need to talk to you.”

I
wonder what
that’s about. Maybe more news about Scotty.
Then she suddenly saw in her
mind’s eye a very sharp image of her husband’s face. All her life, she had
turned to special saints in times of desperate need. She was sure her beloved
Dean was among the saints in heaven.
Dean,
I really need you now.
Please help
me. Please tell me what to do.

Thomas seemed to be getting agitated again. He had
dropped the magazine and started pacing the floor. He must have read the
worried expression on her face.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to hurt you. It’s just
that it’s been hell having to conceal my feelings for Randall all this time.”

She didn’t say anything. She just nodded, so he’d keep
on talking
. The longer he talks, the more
time I have to figure out what to do. The longer he talks, the more chance that
someone might show up at my door. Someone, anyone, please come to visit me.

He raked his fingers through his hair in an agitated
way.
e
rHHe
“I
really loved him. I was in a
relationship with a very nice woman when he started coming on to me.” He
paused. “Well, there’s no need for any more secrecy. I might as well tell you
her name since I’ve already told you so much. It was Lily. Does that surprise
you?”

“Not really.” She was trying to digest this piece of
information. Of course, it all made sense in a sick sort of way.

“I wanted to change my ways. I wanted to settle down,
get married to Lily, and have the house with the white picket fence. I was sick
of the whole bisexual thing. I decided to go straight. Then Randall came along,
and I fell for him in a big way.”

He sat back down on the couch. He picked up a cushion
and crushed it against him. “Well, then it really got messy. Randall and I
became a pretty hot item, and I tried to hide it from Lily. But she found out
and got very jealous. She told me in no uncertain terms to choose between her
and him. And I chose him.”

He nervously rolled up his sleeves as if he were too
warm. Francesca noticed sadly that he had very big muscles.
 

“Before long, Randall started getting antsy. Now that
I look back, I can see he was the kind of man who’d never commit to anyone. And
he was feeling pressured by our relationship, so he started playing up to Lily.
When I found out he was seeing her, I confronted him about it. He said he was
through with me. He said he was going to go back to her and resume the
marriage.”

He laughed in a bitter way that sounded more like a
cough. “I just couldn’t take it anymore. I was totally obsessed with him. And I
still loved him. So I wrote to him and practically begged him to come back to
me.”

Despite the warmth of the house, Francesca suddenly experienced
an icy current that started in her toes and shot up to her scalp.
Did this man kill Randall? Am I sitting here
in my living room with a killer
?

Thomas continued crushing the cushion in his strong
hands. He wasn’t looking at her now, just staring absently at the floor.

“I went over to see him after the choir party.” His
voice was a monotone.

“I decided to ask him, once and for all, if there was
any chance of a serious commitment between us. But he just laughed at me.” He clenched
his fists at the memory, and threw the cushion savagely on the floor. “And
that’s what did it.”

Francesca was feeling extremely cold now
. I’ve got to get out of here, but how?

“I could have taken any reaction but that.” His voice
broke and he leaned over, cradling his head in his hands as he began sobbing.

She had to act quickly. She rushed across the room,
pushed open the door, and started running across the front yard.
I’ll pound on Myra’s door for help,
she
thought frantically. But it took only seconds for him to reach her and
overpower her.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” He gripped
her wrists tightly. “I thought I could trust you.” His voice had taken on a
rough nasty tone, very different from the refined tone of voice he usually
used.

The voice is familiar
somehow,
she thought.

“I told you I wouldn’t hurt you.” But of course he was
doing just that. He was clutching her wrists so fiercely that he was stopping
the circulation. She could feel the bruises starting.

Then she realized where she’d heard the voice before.
“You’re the one who threatened me on the phone, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I ran into Scotty near Randall’s house and he
said you were asking the old lady questions. I figured that call would
discourage you.
 
But you’re very
persistent, aren’t you?”
  

She looked around frantically, hoping someone would
come along and notice them, but she said nothing.

“Now just be a good girl and come inside, and we’ll
have some coffee.” His voice assumed a placating tone, as if he were talking to
a child.

“No!” she screamed. “Let me go! I’m not going back
in!” But the more she struggled against him, the stronger he seemed to grow.

Where the hell are my
neighbors? I’m never watching TV again. Someone could be killed right here on
the front lawn and no one would ever hear a thing.

At that moment, a pair of yellowish eyes peered
through the shrubbery that ran along the front of Francesca’s house. When she
saw the eyes, her first reaction was that it was some kind of apparition.
 

Then she realized who the eyes belonged to. Her
neighbor’s dog, Bainbridge. The big clumsy animal emerged silently from the
shrubbery and appeared at her side.

“Get away, you mutt!” Thomas spat the words at the dog
and gave him a quick kick.
  
Then he
started pulling Francesca roughly back toward the house.

She suddenly remembered Myra telling her about
Bainbridge’s hidden qualities. “Bainbridge, defend, defend!” she shouted.

Managing to free one of her hands, she pointed at
Thomas in a way that the dog instantly recognized. Bainbridge didn’t hesitate.
Snarling and baring his teeth, he sprang for Thomas, knocking the man down and
pinning him securely beneath the dog’s muscular body.

* * *

Myra Findley turned the volume down on her TV. She was
sure she had heard a noise outside. She peered out her front window and saw a
very unusual gathering on Francesca’s front lawn.

A man was flailing wildly beneath Bainbridge and
yelling for dear life. Then she heard someone banging on her front door. She
opened the door and saw Francesca standing there, crying hysterically: “Call
the police!” Then she sank down on Myra’s porch in a dead faint.

Seconds after Myra dialed the police station’s number,
a car pulled up outside, but it didn’t have the flashing blue lights she had
expected.

A man emerged from the car, running. As he ran, he
pulled out his gun and pointed it at the other man, still struggling beneath
the growling, snarling dog. Myra was now on her front porch, anxiously bending
over Francesca and calling her name. She was relieved to find a strong pulse in
her neighbor’s wrist.

“Call him off, call him off!” Myra heard the man under
her dog screaming. She quickly rushed over. “I’m Investigator
Viscardi
with Decatur Police,” the man with the gun said to
her.

“Should I call off my dog?” she asked quickly. He
nodded.

“Excellent work, Bainbridge.” Her voice was loud and
firm. “You may stop now.”

She was pleased to see how quickly her words broke the
spell. Bainbridge immediately released his hold on the man and trotted to her
side with his tail wagging.

* * *

“Get up,” Tony growled at Thomas. “You’re under arrest
for the murder of Randall Ivy.”

Tony didn’t take his eyes off the bleeding man who was
struggling to his feet just as two police cars, blue lights flashing, pulled
up.
 
As more officers rushed to the
scene, Tony observed something he had seen a few times before in his many years
in homicide. The prisoner snapped. Thomas broke down, sobbing, and had to be
restrained by two of the policemen.

“You’re right,” he screamed, as the officers
handcuffed Thomas and led him to the police car. As they put him in the back
seat, Tony could hear Thomas shouting, “I killed Randall and I’m glad I did. He
made my life a living hell.”

But Tony wasn’t listening. His only concern was
Francesca.
If that guy hurt her, I don’t
know what I’ll do.
He rushed over to the neighbor’s porch and crouched down
beside Francesca as she started to regain consciousness. She looked at him in a
dazed way.

“Everything is fine,” Tony whispered. “You’re safe.”

Francesca tried to smile, but it looked like her
bruised mouth hurt too much. She tried to get up, but she was too weak. Tony
lifted her to her feet.

“Are you alright? Did he hurt you? Do you need a
doctor?”

As he helped her up, he noticed that a small crowd had
gathered in the street, where the neighbor was answering their questions.
Meanwhile, three small children were taking turns riding on the attack dog’s
back.

Francesca seemed to be dizzy, so she leaned against
him as he helped her into her house.

“Don’t need a doctor. Just bruises. And I’m so cold.”

* * *

When they got inside the house, Francesca collapsed on
the couch and began shivering. Tony went into her bedroom and came back with a
blanket and a quilt. He covered her up and then turned on the heat full blast.
Then he went into the kitchen and she heard the ding of the microwave. When he
returned, he handed her a glass of warm milk.

“Here, drink this, it will help relax you and warm you
up,” he said in the kindest tone of voice she’d heard in a long time.

She accepted the glass like a little child and sipped
slowly, wincing as the rim touched her bruised lips. After he made a quick call
to the police station, Tony sat beside her and cradled her in his arms.

“Now tell me what happened,” he said tenderly.

She broke down then and started crying. She felt like
a dam had burst in her heart. He held her until she could talk again. Then she
told him about how Thomas had turned violent and how she had feared for her
life.

“He and Randall were lovers,” she whispered, taking
another sip of the warm milk.

“And he killed Randall,” Tony added.

She looked at him questioningly, wondering how he
knew. He told her what he’d discovered about Thomas’ criminal record.

“I was lucky,” he said. “The officer who was
dispatched that night to White’s house remembered the party. He told me some of
the partygoers were cross-dressers.”
 

“You told me Mrs.
Brumble
claimed she saw two women visiting Randall the night he died. Well, I figured
all along that Mrs.
Brumble
was confused, and the
second woman was actually the first one – Patricia – who’d returned after going
out to get something.”