Chapter 14

  Four hot, dirty and weary looking women pulled into the bookstore. They had loaded a little over eight thousand books into the custom made bookshelves. They had another thousand in boxes on the floor and another five hundred boxed up in Zoe’s white van. That left another fifteen hundred to deal with in Zoe’s store. But I could see that they all were exhausted.

  So I went to the writers and scrounged up some bathing suits for them and got them to change out of their filthy clothes. I sent them swimming in Mirror Lake while I did a load of laundry. Amy brought out a tray of soft drinks and snacks and carried it to the dock.

  Willow was much too tired to drive the three hours back to Woodstock so she was staying the night. Amy talked Lucy, Willow and Lis into staying for supper. Zoe had to get home to feed her son. So all four girls still in their bathing suits unloaded Zoe’s van, storing all the books in our stockroom. After that was done they headed back to the dock for another dip and I put all their clothes into the dryer.

  Amy went back to cooking dinner, I went back out to the store, and waited on the few people who had waited patiently to pay in the empty store. After all the customers had paid and left, I saw Audrey standing out on the lawn. So out I went to check on her, to see if she wanted a lawn chair or to come into the store. It looked painful for her leaning on her cane, then moving the cane to lean on it again. She must have been looking for a comfortable position.

  “Can I get you a lawn chair Audrey or you could come in and sit in the reading nook, if you’d prefer.”

  That’s when I noticed the round divots that her cane made, three different divots as she stood in one position and waited, never comfortable. Yeah, I had figured it out, but I didn’t like my solution. No, I didn't like that at all. But if I did nothing and someone was hurt or killed, that would make me complicit in the violence committed against them.

  How much of that book is fiction and just how much of that is true crime. Lucy came out of the store dressed in her freshly washed clothes.

  “Lucy, I’d like for you to meet Audrey Williams, she’s written one of the most terrifying thrillers I’ve ever read, she’s our guest speaker for the book club tonight. I really need to go over a couple of things with her. I know I said you were done for the day but could you please watch the register for half an hour?”

  “Sure Laura, it was nice to meet you Audrey. I wanna read that book when you are done, Laura.”

  Then she ran back inside to our store.

  “Somehow you know, don’t you Laura?”

  “Yes.”

  “How long have you known?”

  “Just a few minutes.”

  “I knew it, I look guilty, I exude guilt. Well I feel guilty. I was going to turn myself in tomorrow. But I suppose we better do it now.”

  “I have some questions first.”

  “Okay, I have one for you too. Is it because I look guilty? Is that how you figured it out?”

  “No, it was the cane. It leaves marks, you must have waited a while in the parking lot. You left three distinct marks. I thought it was a tripod but it didn’t make any sense, it wasn’t a good place for a camera, or a telescope. If it was a rifle tripod, the shooter wouldn’t have missed so badly, even if he was just trying to scare Sven. But you can't scare someone if you miss so badly they think it’s a backfire. So my turn, did you follow him here for the purpose of killing him?”

  “No, I wouldn’t have come if I knew he was going to be here. It was pure coincidence, I write medical thrillers and I never would put that in one of my books, it’s just too unbelievable that I could end up here with that man. But it’s true and I also understand that you have no reason to believe me.”

  “No, I do believe you, Audrey. I have to ask you something else, you are Vicky and Sven, he is the monster, right?”

  “Yes, he is.”

  “Where did you get the gun? It looks like one of Sven’s, surely you didn’t buy it off of him? That would be the ultimate irony for an arms dealer right?”

  “No I didn’t buy it, Saturday morning after he went to breakfast I broke into his room. I actually didn’t do much breaking, the door was ajar so I just walked in. I was after his laptop. I thought maybe, I’d find proof that Sven was up to his old tricks. Friday night, at our meet and greet, I saw him eyeing Jade, I thought he was sizing her up to be his next victim. I wasn’t going to let that happen if I could stop it. I was planning to speak to Jade on Saturday to warn her off. I followed him Friday night to his motel, to make sure Jade wasn’t in danger. However when I got to his room Saturday morning. I found it open and went in and looked around for the laptop. It wasn't anywhere in sight so I started searching the room. I found the gun between the mattress and the boxspring. So I took it. It was the second worst decision I've ever made in my life.”

  “So why didn’t you warn Jade on Saturday?”

  “Because Jade spent most of the day with you, so Sven didn’t get near her. But I knew she would be in the most danger, at the bar. I’ll just watch from the street to make sure that she was safe. I was hoping that she would stay with you. But she was with Flynn, I thought that she would be safe with him. Sven would never go up against someone like Flynn, he much prefers drugging young women. But then I saw Sven at the back of the pack, I hadn’t seen you and Amy, you were pretty far back. Then it just happened, my hand reached into the bag, I pulled out the gun and fired. That’s when I saw you and Amy for the first time. You stopped and then you disappeared into the shadows. I thought you might come searching for me. So I walked to the end of the lot, and got into my car. I scrunched down, but I could still see you, I saw you take a picture of something, then I saw you searching around. What were you searching for?"

  “I was searching for a shell casing so I would have proof that a shot had been fired. I couldn’t find one. Did you pick it up?”

  “No, I ground it into the mud with my cane. You’ll find it right where I was standing if you just dig around a little in the mud there.”

  “Audrey, why did you throw the gun away?”

  “Because I was horrified with what I had done. I took it because it made me feel safe. I was so scared when I saw him Friday night, I was afraid that he would finish what he had started with me so many years ago. But he didn’t recognize me, Audrey Williams is my pen name. I don’t know if Sven ever knew my real name, but just in case when I became an author I wanted anonymity. I wasn’t sure the gun would even fire. To look at it, it feels like a toy. Aside from the weight of it, it is a toy, a deadly one. The minute I pulled the trigger and that deafening sound enveloped me, I just wanted to get rid of it, I had to get rid of it. I had tried to kill someone. I had become one of the antagonists of my novels. I had always been the protagonist, the second time I’d met Sven, he turned me into a monster, just like him. The first time I met him I became a physical cripple, the second time a mental cripple. As I hid there in my car waiting for you to leave, I released what an idiot I had been. If I had only taken that gun to the police and told them Sven had dropped it and I picked it up and brought it to them. He’d be in jail for an illegal weapon, Jade and I would be safe. Instead, I ruined my life for a second time.”

  “So now that you have actually shot at someone, do you think you have the mental ability to actually kill someone? Do you want to murder anyone else?”

  “No Laura, just the opposite in fact, I’m sure that I can’t.”

  “No, I don’t think you can either. Have you ever done therapy?”

  “If you mean mental, just a little while I was still in the hospital. If you mean physical tons, three times a week for years. I absolutely hate it. It’s painful, and boring at the same time. How is that even possible?”

  “It sounds like when you first start to run, but after a while, after you lean into it, you get this calm, this exhausted peace. A runner's natural high. Maybe you should up your physical therapy to five times a week. Use those extra two sessions as penance for making a mistake. But you also need to forgive yourself. I read your novel, you blame yourself for going to that bar. That is bullshit. I’m sorry but a woman should be able to walk into a bar and order a drink, without becoming prey. I have done way stupider things in my life. I used to hitchhike every Friday to Saranac when I was a senior in high school. I am so lucky that I never came across a predator like Sven. What my life would have been like if I had. I’m not going to turn you in, I don’t think you are a danger to anyone except maybe yourself. Just promise me two things, three months of five days a week physio and you start regular therapy the week you get home. Once you are comfortable with your therapist you tell them the truth, about everything and then do the work that the therapist gives you so that you can stop blaming yourself. Do we have a deal?”

  “Why would you do that, make yourself an accessory?”

  “It’s just something I feel compelled to do. It’s fine my attorney, she moved into the collective because I keep committing felonies, I guess she figures that it’ll save her gas money. She is also an excellent attorney. Even if the case ever went to trial, I’d just have Eve put me on the stand and tell the jury your story. Then I’d ask them a simple question. Wouldn’t you be ashamed if you didn’t do what I did? Then the ADA would jump up and yell to the jury, see she admits it. But you know that at least one person on that jury would agree, no one was hurt, except the victim of the original crime. I think people in general are good, they are lazy, and don’t like to think but when they are challenged to really think, they’ll do the right thing. I mean being lazy has to be in the genes right. It was the lazy person out on the savanna that survived, that didn’t unnecessarily burn calories when at any moment starvation might kill them.”

  “You are really a very odd woman.”

  “Yes well I grew up in a house full of oddballs, hippies each and every one of them. The only characteristic that shone through more than their oddness was their kindness. They also taught me that while mean people suck, mean people are usually meanest to themselves. There is no point trying to get back at them for something that they have done to you, because the minute you do that, you start walking down their path and pretty soon you are the meanest person you know. So come on in and have a seat in the reading nook. The book club will be here shortly and I have to relieve my very overworked manager.”

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  So Audrey took a seat in the reading nook and I took over for a very refreshed looking Lucy. It amazes me the amount of energy that the youth has. She worked her ass off today then a quick dip in the lake and she’s looking like she could go do it all over again.

  “Laura, what do you want me to do now?”

  See what I mean, unlimited energy, I wish I had just the tiniest portion of that. But I already had that energy, fifty years ago. I wonder if I hadn’t dragged myself to New York City to be in the publishing industry, if instead, I had stayed here in Placid and lived my life in the collective. Would I have the old spark of energy. Had working for a soulless corporation sucked that energy out of me like some kind of energy vampire or is it just life and old age? I’d never know, because I could never go back and revisit the decisions that lead me down that path. My life wasn’t a point and click adventure, after you die, you just restart the game.

  Nope life is more like a chess game, you're born and the board is already set up. The people around you are trying to teach you the rules as they understand them, in the meantime your opponent keeps making moves, if you don’t make your move by the time that the chess clock allows you to, then you forfeit your move. It’s also supremely unfair, some people are born and don’t even have a full set of pieces, the lucky ones just missing a pawn, others are down a queen and two rooks before they even have a chance to make a move. Some get to play with an all queen lineup.

  But who are we playing against? Is this a Bergman-esque , Bill and Ted game of twister with an embodied death character or is it Gaiman’s kind, Timeless Death the sibling to dream. We never know, because while we can see the move, we never see the mover.

  “Lucy, go find Willow and do something together.”

  “She’s helping Amy cook.”

  “Of course she is, well get up there and lend a hand. I’ve got this. But do a good job up there. I don't want my supper ruined.”

  She laughed and ran up the stairs to the kitchen. Before I could go back to sad chess metaphors I had some customers, who I took care of then the book club started to arrive, Claire Becker came in first. So I took her over to the reading nook and introduced her to Audrey. Claire was already gushing with enthusiasm before I was out of ear shot. I left it up to Claire to introduce Audrey to the rest of the club. Normally I would have enjoyed watching an author speak to a group of readers but I needed to think seriously about what I had decided spur of the moment.

  Did I really believe that Audrey wasn’t a danger to those around her? Yes I firmly did. Would you let her move into the collective? Are you that sure? Yes with the caveat that I or Audrey would need to inform Bianca of what she had, so there were no secrets between us all. I tried to think up every possible reason for turning Audrey into the police from public safety to punishment for punishment sake.

  That was the easiest to throw out, I don’t believe in punishment for punishment sake. Punishment as a teaching tool, barely acceptable in the most extreme cases. Finally I concluded that yes I was happy with my decision and also with my advice for Audrey to ramp up her therapy. I was now one hundred percent sure, I had taken the best course of action available to me. Not a minute too soon either. Because Karl walked in the front door.

  “Hi Karl, I didn’t think I’d see you so soon. I thought you’d be busy mopping up the militia.”

  “That was strictly a swat operation, but I had a few more things, I wanted to go over with you. I guess first off is there anything else you want to tell me about any of the events that happened over the weekend.”

  “Nope, nothing comes to mind and I have an eidetic memory so if anything important happened that I didn’t already mention, I’d have known it.”

  “Hmm, well maybe you can tell me how Audrey Williams’ DNA was found on the ghost gun that you gave to your cousin.”

  “Karl, you really seem like a nice man. Are you a nice man?”

  “I’d like to think so Laura, but what has that got to do with what I asked.”

  “Let me tell you a story, Karl. Sunday morning we went hiking. I didn’t drink enough while we were out on the trail and Audrey, poor cripled Audrey, was kind enough to get me a cup of water. I felt terrible having her carry water to me, in her condition. When I felt a little better, I decided a walk into town would be good so I refilled the cup and went to the parking lot looking for clues that I might have missed the night before. The only thing I had missed in the dark was the trash can, my water was gone and the cup was empty so I dropped it in the trash and then started stirring the trash with a stick. If there was evidence I didn’t want to get my fingerprints on it and have to listen to August complain about it. When I saw the gun, I grabbed a paper bag from the trash and used it to pick up the gun and slip it into another bag that was also in the trash. How’s that for a story that explains everything, Karl?”

  “How long were you in publishing, Laura?”

  “Too long Karl, I was just thinking a few minutes ago what my life might have been like if I had just stayed here at Placid and ran the bookstore with my aunt.”

  “No I just meant, that all those years in publishing you’d have to be pretty good, making up stories right.”

  “No, Karl, authors are the ones that make up the stories. I was an editor, I fixed the stories that the authors hadn’t gotten quite right. There is a big difference.”

  “See it’s just that I’ve spoken to every member of the militia and every one of them swears that none of them took a shot at Sven. I mean why would they, he was their gun supplier.”

  “Well, Karl of course I didn’t get a chance to speak to any of them like you have and most of my knowledge of nazi’s comes from old movies and such and the Diary of Anne Frank, a classic if you haven’t had the chance to read it, but so sad. However, to my understanding nazi’s are not good people. It may be possible that they are lying to you Karl.”

  “Do you think I should speak to Audrey to see if she remembers bringing you that cup of water?”

  “Well you could Karl, but like you said, you are a good guy, why bother a crippled woman, who doesn’t have an eidetic memory for details when you have a living breathing photographic memory right in front of you. Who is only too happy to help.”

  “You know that August warned me about you.”

  “August is just bitter because the hippies we lived with never wanted to play football or baseball with him. He blamed the hippies and claimed all they wanted to do was get high and write. But that wasn’t true, the hippies loved sports, we’d throw a frisbee around for hours, or play hacky sack. August just never got it. It’s better to do the right thing, then the thing that is expected of you.”

  “Well, like you say, I’m a nice guy and now that I know how the DNA got on there from the person who actually found the gun, it’d be mean to go asking anyone else about this. I guess whichever nazi shot at him will get away with it. But you can’t solve every case and no one was hurt, just a broken window at the bank. I wouldn’t think hippies would mind a few broken windows at a bank would they.”

  “No Karl, I’m sure that they wouldn’t. Before you go I just read this thriller by Audrey, I’m not much for thrillers but this one kept me on the edge of my seat. I’ll let you borrow it, there can’t be any impropriety in borrowing something right?”

  “No there certainly isn’t. Borrowing this gives me an excellent excuse to come back and visit you again, and spend some of my store credit. Thanks for the book.”

  ***

  That night at supper, I wanted to talk to Bianca about an idea I had for the workshops. The cold weather was only three months away. Sitting outside in a tent would not do, and I wouldn’t be able to get the boathouse fixed up fast enough. But the dinner itself was a little too lively with our three young guests, keeping the writers entertained. But after supper was over, Willow, Lucy and Lis had driven off in Urge. I asked Bianca for a word.

  “Sure, Laura, by the way, I think that the way you are approaching your experiment posting your own publishing house's books to pirate sites, covering any possible losses, is just wonderful. I really hope that it is very successful, I know that I was against it, but now I’m really looking forward to seeing the results.”

  “Thank’s Bianca, I thought we’ll just focus on three books to start, one free and two free with a guilt trip if you don’t pay up after reading. But what I wanted to talk to you about was Amy’s house and the collective.”

  “Has she changed her mind and doesn’t want to donate it?”

  “No nothing like that, what if instead of getting four new collective writers in there you used her house for workshops, and instead of having just weekend workshops you ran a workshop once a month that ran for a week. If you charged four hundred dollars board, that would cover power, taxes and food. Most of this weekend's writers probably paid close to that for motel rooms for just two nights, plus they had to eat out as well. Except for Amy’s BBQ, that is. You’d get as much money as installing new collective members, in addition the writers who participate would get a stipend and the collective as a whole would make money. It would also allow you to run Workshops year round, give workshop attendees a real glimpse of what it is like to live in a writers collective because they would be doing just that for a week.”

  “I love it, Laura. I’ll run all the numbers and see what the other writers think of the idea.”

  ***

  The next morning after Willow, Lucy and Lis left for Saranac to pack up the rest of the books. I went to open the store and I saw the mayor waiting by the door. I wondered how many complaints the neighbors had lodged with his office about the FBI raid Sunday evening. But he wasn’t scowling as you’d expect, he was smiling. Maybe he had found some legal way to kick us all out of Lake Placid.

  “Good morning Mr Mayor, did your wife forget anything last night?”

  “No, not at all, in fact she showed me all the books she bought all signed by the author. You are very clever, Laura, having an author show up to sign her books. My wife bought every book the woman wrote. But as long as she is happy that is all that matters.”

  “Right, so how can I help you then?”

  “Well, I’m glad you asked Laura, how would you like to get your property taxes reduced by twenty five percent this year.”

  “I’d say what is the catch Mr Mayor?”

  “No catch Laura, you just have to host a little event.”

  The End