Barbara clicks on another email, trying to catch up on the missed work from yesterday. Doing her best to not look at the computer clock, Stan should have been here five minutes ago, she thought, weird he was always early before he got fired.
“Hello”
Barbara stops her jump, and smiles at Stan, who is looking especially dashing in the fedora. “A new look, I like it,” she indicates the hat.
Stan lifts it in a salute, and smiles back. “So, the partners are here?”
Not wanting to lose him just yet, she says, “Cliff is, but I’m not sure he’s seeing anyone, I may have lied to you on accident.”
“Weeelll, no worries,” Stan shrugs, “I’ll just give a knock. Don’t go away.”
“I won’t,” she whispers. Crap, that wasn’t clever. “I won’t…” ? You sound so pathetic. You can do better than this, come on Barb.
She is still rehearsing lines when Stan returns. “Well, that was quick. You’re right, Cliff is booked solid, but the good news is that I’m on his calendar for next week,” he grins.
“You so relaxed, so – different, Stan,” Barbara smiles a sideways glance at him, “it’s a good look on you, I like it.”
“Yeah?” Stan’s eyebrows rise, “You think?”
At her nod, Stan says, “You know, I’ve been kind of breaking out lately, even got some new decor. Ooh – check this out,” he gets out his phone.
He is showing her a picture of the statue, their heads nearly touching over the phone when a throat clears behind them.
“That isn’t porn is it?” Sheila tries for a weak joke. They both jump at her interruption as she continues, “Sorry to intrude,” she says with a cold look at Stan, “but I have emailed the figures from the Hanson account. I need the summaries by noon, Barbara,” Sheila turns to leave, shooting Stan another dirty look on her way out of the cube.
Stan mouths “Bitch” to Barbara, and she claps her hand over her mouth to stifle giggles. Before she totally loses it, he says, “Hey, that raincheck from yesterday; you doing anything tonight?”
He is rewarded with a wide smile, “No, as a matter of fact I am free.”
“Great! Dinner? How about I pick you up at, say, seven?”
They’ve finished arrangements, and Stan has barely left when Sheila pops back in Barbara’s cubicle.
“That man is bad news, you should stay away from him, Barbara,” Sheila says.
Barbara takes a deep breath. “Sheila, I appreciate that you are looking out for me, but quite frankly, this is NONE OF YOUR DAMN BUSINESS!” she smiles but her brown eyes are sharp. Another breath. “I will have your summary by eleven, then I need to take a half day off; the stress of events is getting to me.”
Sheila nods, “Of course, I-I understand. My apologies for overstepping. Your work is always flawless, I know I can count on you,” she leaves.
At her cubicle, Sheila texts, “Barbara is dating Stan Greene tonight – I am worried about her!” and hits send. She receives a reply from Ally, “Thank you for the information Ms. Masterson.”
Sheila replies, “They were looking at pictures of a weird statue – it looked evil.”
She gets back a thumbs up. Thumbs up, she thinks, WTF. Thumbs up it’s ok? Thumbs up she has the info? Frustrated, she settles back into work
Ally set her phone down after hitting “send” and rubbed her eyes. She knew, in her gut, that Stan was behind these deaths. Murders. They are murders, she thought, even if I can’t prove it.
Picking up her phone again, she dialed Michael.
“Ally, what news?” Michael greeted her.
“I know who is doing it. Killing people. They die of fright, Michael, how can I catch this guy?”
“Ok, this guy,” Michael says, “first of all, be careful, Ally. He’s a host. The longer he’s a host, the deeper the demon is rooted in him, and the more dangerous he becomes.”
“Demon. Right. Goddamnit, Michael, if it were anyone else -”
“You’d tell them they were nuts and hang up,” Michael replied, “and the murders would go on. You know I’m right! You’ve seen-”
“We’re not kids anymore, Michael. We can’t play boogie man anymore. I’m a cop – not an.. an..”
“Exorcist?”, Michael’s voice is wry. “I know, that’s my job. Which is why you called. Look Ally, like it or not, this is what you are dealing with. The guy who’s doing it -”
“Stan. Stan Greene. Not a word to anyone!” Alley said.
“Not a problem. Stan is just a host, a victim too. You need to find the servants. The demon will have human servants that live outside of time as a reward for their service. They are nearly immortal, but walk among us. They will care for the idol that houses it.”
“Idol! You mentioned that before. A witness at the office told me that Stan was showing pictures of a weird statue…”
“Get that statue Ally. The focus – the marbles, can be recreated as long as the house – the statue is intact.”
“Just how do I do that, Michael? How do I go to the court and request a search warrant for a demonic statue?”
“This is why you get the big bucks, Detective,” Michael teased. “But seriously, get me in on the handling of that statue, you don’t have the expertise -”
“I’ll figure something out,” Ally groused. “Thanks”
“I love you, cous,” Michael said, “I’ll be guarding you with prayer, be careful.”
“Thanks,” Ally said, softer, as she disconnected.
Now for a little conversation with Mr. Greene, she thinks, selecting a contact.
Stan is walking back from the office when Ally calls.
“Hello Detective.”
“Hello Mr. Greene. Is this a bad time?”
“Well, that depends, Detective. What can I help you with?”
“Mr. Greene, are you aware that Kristen Mason, bartender at The Spot, was found deceased this morning in the back room of the establishment?”
Stan stops in his tracks. “Kris? You’re sure?”
“Yes, I’m afraid so, Mr. Greene.”
Stan looks around, then steps into the shelter of an empty storefront to let foot traffic pass. “I saw her just last night, Detective, when I was leaving. A guy came in to see her, big guy, Harry something. You might want to follow up on him.”
“Unfortunately, Ms. Mason was found with a Mr. Harold Thompson, also deceased. The cause of death is TBD, but appearances were very similar to what we found at Silva and Son’s. Mr. Greene, I need to ask where you were last night.”
“Am I a suspect, Detective? If so, I’d like to retain counsel,” said Stan.
“Of course it is your prerogative, Mr. Greene, but at this point, we are just checking all angles.”
“This is very upsetting, Detective, Kris was a friend of mine -”, Stan begins.
“I am sorry Mr. Greene, it must be a shock,” Ally sounds anything but sorry.
Stan takes a deep breath, “I was at The Spot until about eleven, then I went home and went to bed. Sorry there are no witnesses to testify to that,” he snips.
“Thank you, Mr. Greene. Another question; have you recently acquired any new decor?” Ally knows she’s pushing it, This guy’s got to make a mistake, she thinks.
“What?!” Stan is indignant.
“A witness mentioned you were showing pictures of a statue,” Ally cringes.
“Ah. Sheila? Well, I DID recently pick up a statue at a thrift store. Why, Detective, is it now against the law to have questionable taste? If so, you should arrest Sheila Masterson for her taste in sweaters,” Stan’s tone is flip, but his heart is hammering.
“If that is all, Detective, I have things to get on with, including job hunting.”
“Of course, Mr. Greene. Uh – just in case, I ask that you let me know if you are planning to leave town,” Ally presses.
“I have no plans to go anywhere, Detective. Good day,” Stan disconnects, then looks down at his feet. Prodding the pile of clothes, he sees the ugly sweater that the crazy-eyed panhandler was wearing, and smiles at the puff of dust that comes up.
To Be Continued…