17
Saturday, October 1, 1994
Kim pulled herself from the depths of a minor stupor caused by the Xanax. Once again she was surprised she’d slept as long as she had. It was almost nine.
After showering and dressing, Kim took Sheba outside. Feeling guilty that she’d been denying the animal her normal wandering, Kim was patient with the cat and allowed her to go wherever she wanted. Sheba chose to go around the house. Kim followed.
As Kim rounded the back of the house she suddenly stopped, angrily put her hands on her hips, and let out an expletive. She had discovered she’d been targeted by the vandals or the animal which the police had warned her about. Both her trash containers had been tipped over and emptied. The trash had been strewn around the yard.
Ignoring Sheba for the moment, Kim righted the two plastic garbage cans. As she did so she discovered that both had been torn at their top edges, presumably when their covers had been forcibly removed.
“What a pain!” Kim exclaimed as she carried the two containers back to where they normally stood next to the house. Looking at them more closely, she realized that she’d have to replace them since their covers would no longer be secure.
Kim rescued Sheba just before she was about to take off into the woods, and carried her back into the house. Remembering that the police had asked to be called if she had any trouble, Kim called the station. To her surprise they insisted on sending someone out.
Using a pair of gardening gloves, Kim went back outside and spent a half hour picking up all the trash. Temporarily she put it back into the two broken containers. She was just finishing when the Salem police car arrived.
It was a single officer this time who Kim thought looked about her age. His name was Tom Malick. He was a serious fellow and asked to see the crime scene. Kim thought he was making more of the incident than it deserved, but took him around behind the house and showed him the containers. She had to explain that she’d just finished picking everything up.
“It would have been better if you left everything the way you found it until we’d seen it,” Tom said.
“I’m sorry,” Kim said. She couldn’t imagine what difference it would have made.
“Your situation here fits the same scenario that we’ve been seeing in the general area,” Tom said. He squatted down next to the containers and examined them carefully. Then he looked at the lids.
Kim watched him with mild impatience.
He stood up. “This was done by the animal or animals,” he said. “It wasn’t the kids. I believe there are teethmarks along the lips of the covers. Do you want to see?”
“I suppose,” Kim said.
Tom lifted up one of the covers and pointed to a series of parallel grooves.
“I think you should get more secure containers,” Tom said.
“I was planning on replacing them,” Kim said. “I’ll see what’s available.”
“You might have to go out to Burlington to find them,” Tom said. “There’s been a run on them in town.”
“It sounds like this is developing into a real problem,” Kim said.
“You’d better believe it,” Tom said. “The town is in an uproar. Didn’t you watch the local news this morning?”
“No, I didn’t,” Kim said.
“Up until last night the only deaths we’ve had with this affair have been dogs and cats,” Tom said. “This morning we found our first human victim.”
“That’s awful,” Kim said, catching her breath. “Who was it?”
“He was a vagrant who was fairly well known in town,” Tom said. “His name was John Mullins. He was found not far from here, near the Kernwood Bridge. The gruesome thing was that he’d been partially eaten.”
Kim’s mouth went dry as her mind unwillingly called up the horrid image of Buffer lying in the grass.
“John did have an ungodly blood alcohol level,” Tom said, “so he might have been dead before the animal got to him, but we’ll know more after a report from the medical examiner. The body went to Boston in hopes that we can get a lead on what kind of animal we’re dealing with from toothmarks on bones.”
“It sounds horrible,” Kim said with a shudder. “I didn’t realize how serious this was.”
“Initially we were thinking about a raccoon,” Tom said. “But with this human victim, and the amount of vandalism going on, we’re thinking of a bigger animal, like a bear. There’s been a marked increase in the bear population of New Hampshire so it’s not out of the question. But whatever it is, it’s got our Salem witch industry loving it. Of course they’re saying it’s the devil and all that kind of nonsense, trying to get people to think it’s 1692 all over again. Trouble is, they’re doing a pretty good job, and their business is brisk. So is ours.”
After a strong warning for Kim to be careful because of all the forest land on her property which could certainly conceal a bear, Tom left.
Before going all the way to Burlington, Kim went into the house and called the hardware store in Salem where she did most of her business. Contrary to what Tom had said, they assured her they had a full selection of trash containers available since they’d just gotten a shipment the day before.
Happy to have an errand that took her to town, Kim left as soon as she’d had something to eat. She drove straight to the hardware store. The clerk told her she was wise to have come directly. Since he’d spoken with her an hour previously, they’d sold a good portion of the trash container shipment.
“This animal really gets around,” Kim said.
“You’d better believe it,” the clerk said. “They’re starting to have the same problems over in Beverly. Everybody’s talking about what kind of animal it is. There’s even odds in case you want to bet some money. But it’s been great for us. Not only have we been selling a ton of garbage cans; there’s been a fire sale on ammo and rifles in our sporting goods section.”
While Kim was waiting by the register to pay for her purchases, she could hear other customers talking about the same subject. There was excitement in the air that was almost palpable.
Leaving the store, Kim had an uncomfortable feeling. She was worried that if hysteria broke out about this creature now that a human death was involved, innocent people could get hurt. She shuddered to think of trigger-happy people hiding behind their curtains just waiting to hear something or somebody toying with their trash. Since kids were apparently getting involved, it could easily turn into a tragedy.
Back at the house, Kim transferred the trash from the damaged containers to the new ones with their lids secured by an ingenious compression mechanism. She put the old ones in the back of the shed to use for collecting leaves. As she worked, she longed for the city, nostalgically remembering life there as being simple in comparison. She’d had to worry about muggers but not bears.
With the garbage problem taken care of, Kim walked across the field to the lab. She wasn’t excited about going, but with this new development of her garbage being ransacked and a body being found nearby she felt she had no choice.
Before she went inside she checked the bins where the lab’s garbage was stored. They were two heavy industrial-sized steel boxes that were lifted by the garbage truck. The lids were heavy. Kim could barely push them up. Looking inside, she could see that the lab’s trash had been undisturbed.
At the front door Kim hesitated, trying to think up an excuse to use in case she was waylaid by the congenial researchers. Lunch was the only thing she could think of. She also girded herself to bring up the subject of the dirt being tracked into the castle.
Kim passed through the reception area and entered the lab proper. Once again she was surprised. On her last visit it had been a celebration, this time it was an impromptu meeting that had to be about something important. The gay, festive atmosphere that she was learning to expect at the lab was gone. In its place was a solemnity that was almost funereal.