Finding 52 (19 page)

Smurf Man

1985

W
ilber Hamer was driving his 1977 Oldsmobile Toronado. He loved the long, sleek profile and concealed headlamps, but the best thing was it had plenty of room for all of his friends. Not only did they like to ride in the front seat with him, they liked to sit inches from the windshield; all fourteen of them. He always travelled with his best friends and he dearly loved those Smurfs.

They were equally spaced apart and some faced oncoming cars while others faced Wilber. He began talking to the Smurfs several months ago and darned if they didn’t start talking right back. At first he thought it was the radio, but when he turned the radio off the voices continued. The voices were tiny and unusual, just like the Smurfs, and they surely did know things. They knew a lot of things and Wilber listened and learned.

A week or so after they began to speak, the ones facing traffic would look for things, and they’d tell him what to watch for and sometimes where to go. None of this surprised him and he appreciated the help. Wilber was a bona fide child molester and he’d been at it for decades, and what had been a couple of incidents every year had now escalated. Now he was at it on a monthly basis.

Wilber knew where his bread was buttered and told Frisky as much. He looked at Frisky and wondered how anything so small could be so gosh darn smart. He was facing Wilber and all the others were on reconnaissance, and of course their backs were turned on him, so to speak.

“I’ll tell you, Frisky, I was nothing before I met you and the others.”

The diminutive figure appeared to wink before saying, “Fucking-A big boy. Not all of the kids that watch us on TV can be trusted. They might be tykes, but they’re still threats. Leastwise that’s what I think. We want to point them out to you, and if you can find some measure of satisfaction when scolding them, so be it.”

It occurred to him that it would be wise to never cross the Smurfs. Some days he wondered if he was the puppet or the puppeteer. “I do enjoy cautioning the children and most times it leads to plenty of enjoyment.” He felt something stir and very soon it would be erect. “The children probably like it as well, or one would think.”

“You better hang a left,” Sprog piped in. “There’s one within five hundred feet, give or take—a girl, I think.”

Wilber did as he was told and sure enough, a girl no older than nine years old was walking just ahead of him. It didn’t matter if it was a boy or a girl; Wilber found both flavors scrumptious. And speaking of scrumptious, that Smurf was now turning around. At first Wilber was frightened but had no idea why.

“You really are a limp dick. You know that, right?” Scrumptious asked.

“Try to be nice,” Wilber said back. “I might have a urine infection for all you know.”

“Whatever gets you through the night. A lot of guys your age have wet dreams. The last few wet dreams you had were from bed wetting. For all the good that thing does…you might want to cut it off. There’s a knife in the glove box.”

Wilber knew Scrumptious was full of shit. He never kept things like that in his car. The cops frequently stopped him and he didn’t want to give them any more reason to mess with him than what they already had.

“You’re full of it.”

“Take a look in the glove box. I dare you.”

Wilber pulled over to the curb and opened the glove box and there it was: a good-sized butcher knife. The handle alone was six inches long, and the deadly blade was razor sharp. It frightened Wilber beyond belief. He looked at the maligned blue figurine and wondered out loud, “How did that get in the glove box? I never put it there. I don’t even own a knife like that.”

“Settle down fuck face. It’s just a knife,” Scrumptious said.

Wilber held it in his hand and suddenly felt the need to pee as he dropped the knife on the floor mat. The girl was now looking at him. He rolled down the passenger window and called her to the car. She walked slowly toward Sprog, Frisky, Scrumptious, and the others.

The girl had been warned about the Smurf Man. Her parents, teachers, and even the police officers that routinely spoke at school cautioned her, but she now seemed powerless to run away. Her eyes only saw the Smurfs. She saw all of them, but was now focused on Sprog and Scrumptious. Any semblance of logic had faded when Wilber rolled the window down. She knew better, but simply had to see those pint-sized scoundrels. She was now at the open window of the Toronado.

“What are their names?”

Wilber pointed at each one as he named them. “This is Sprog and Scrumptious. The others are Frisky, Delightful, and Libido.” Before he could name the rest a cop walked up to the driver’s door.

Victor hated Smurfs and detested Wilber a shitload more than the way he felt about those tiny troublemakers. All the cops held Wilber in great disdain, but Victor really loathed the Smurf Man. It would be fair to say that at this particular point in time Wilber was about to have a bad day.

Victor addressed the little girl. “Now sweetie, you know you shouldn’t be around this car, don’t you?”

She looked at him and nodded her head. “Am I in trouble?” She wanted to hold Sprog a little longer. Wilber was hopeful the cop wouldn’t notice the butcher knife on the floor.

“You are most definitely not in trouble. I think it best that you head for home.”

She held the Smurf a little higher and said, “Can I keep Sprog?”

“I don’t think so, honey. Sprog is full of germs and you might get cooties. Just go home now, okay?” Victor asked.

The little girl was back on the sidewalk and she walked away. Slowly at first, and then she walked a little faster and the hypnotic effect that Sprog once had lessened with each step. She was soon out of sight and Victor was grateful. He had plans for the Smurf Man. Big plans.

Victor was holding a tiny thing in his hand, and as he cleared his throat Wilber looked at Victor, carefully avoiding eye contact.

“You know what this is?”

“It looks like a Smurf. Is it?” Wilber asked.

“It surely is and his name is Funny. I brought him here just for you. Would you like him…for your collection? He could ride on the dashboard.”

“I would officer. Why is his name Funny?”

“Well, I guess he’s Funny because I am. I bought him in a store and named him Funny. Did you know I’m funny?”

“Why are you funny?” Wilber asked.

“I don’t know, but everyone thinks I am. Do you think I’m funny?”

“Sure.”

Now Victor walked back to his car. He had better things to think about. Things like justice, comeuppance, and guns. Not just any gun…a special gun. He always had a distinctive gun for special occasions. The revolver had the serial numbers filed off and what was left had been given the acid treatment. He was now again walking toward the Smurfmobile.

“You should know that my kids want to watch that cartoon show on Saturdays, but I won’t let them.”

“Why not?”

“Because every time I see one of those bastards I think of you. I think how you use those blue troll wannabes to pick up kids, get them in your car, and do things to them. Tell the truth, you like kids don’t you?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know. I’m not sure what to say.”

“Just stick with the truth. Most people find that to be the easiest pathway to success.”

“Yes.”

“Yes? You like kids?”

Wilber looked down. All thoughts of the knife were gone. For the first time in weeks he wasn’t even thinking about Smurfs. “Yes. I like kids.”

Victor was ready. He thought it best to take Wilber to a happy place. It would serve as an ice breaker. Victor was holding Funny and he gave him to Wilber. “I want you to have Funny. I hope whenever you look at him, you’ll think of me…someone that is funny. Can you do that?”

Wilber beamed from ear to ear. It was the happiest he’d been in a long time, a very long time indeed. “I sure can! I already think Funny is one of my favorite Smurfs.”

“I can tell. The way you’re holding him, and stroking that rat shit hair of his.”

“Huh?”

Victor had already moved on. He placed his throw-away gun on the dashboard in front of Victor. He spoke slowly in measured words. “Pick up the gun. Your time is up. Go for it. The gun that is, let’s do it.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes, you do! You went for the gun and I had to shoot you. It all happened so fast. The best part will be how kids no longer have to be leery of the Smurf Man.”

“NOOOOOO!”

Victor reached inside the car and grabbed Wilber’s hand. Victor made Wilber touch the gun. Victor’s gun was now touching the side of Wilber’s head. “Pick that gun up and hold it in your hand for chrissakes.”

Wilber did as he was told, and Victor was elated. “When you’re dead and gone the world will be a far better place. You can take that to the bank. Now hold the gun nice and steady when you point it at me. I want you to shoot me now.”

“Please. I just wanna go home. Let me go home. Okay?”

“OKAY? DID YOU REALLY SAY OKAY? TIMES UP! TRY AND SHOOT ME. DON’T TRY AND SHOOT ME. EITHER WAY I’M GONNA SHOOT YOUR ASS!!”

The Smurf Man fainted. Victor gazed at him. “I guess I really am funny,” he said. “FUNNY!! The guys are right. Everybody’s right. I AM FUNNY.”

The Double Bubble

1966

H
arley received his North Carolina driver’s license in the autumn of 1966 and with that the sense of complete freedom, and why not? He rarely attended classes and his aunt increased his allowance. Harley was worth millions and within less than five years he’d have control of his entire trust fund. He figured Uncle Simon had skimmed thousands of dollars in administration fees from the fund throughout the years. His Aunt Caroline was the only family he had in the world and she managed to marry a real piece of work. His uncle was a thieving philanderer whose days would soon be numbered. Simon was in Harley’s sights. That was pretty much a given after the Hawaii vacation when he showed his true colors.

Harley bought his first car in late November and he paid cash. He certainly could’ve afforded any car he wanted, but he preferred the 1964 Valiant Barracuda manufactured by Plymouth with the enormous wraparound rear window. He liked the sporty interior and bucket seats. It had a backseat that seated three or could be folded down for cargo space. The padded dash and push-button radio were added options. That car cost less than twenty-five hundred dollars brand new and his was eighteen months old and only had seven thousand miles on it. He paid nineteen hundred and drove it all the way to the Eight of Hearts.

That Barracuda served him well and with mobility came a freedom to come and go as he pleased. Other students had their own cars as well and most of them were flashier than Harley’s car. He could’ve cared less. As a matter of fact, Harley cared nothing about what others thought of him. He was ready to see more of North Carolina and the cost was only thirty-two cents a gallon. He left school during Christmas break to visit his aunt. He lit out on Friday morning, two days before Christmas. The roads were clear and he had plenty of time to himself.

News items from the
Gastonia Monitor
, December 24, 1966:

Owner Found Dead in Laundromat

Gastonia police were called to the Double Bubble Laundromat late Friday evening when a nude body was found in a large commercial clothes dryer. The dryer was still running when a customer made the discovery. Laundromat owner Carl Freeman was dead when the police arrived. Mr. Freeman’s dry clothes were lying in an adjacent dryer. Lieutenant Harper ruled out robbery as a motive. The day’s receipts were still in the cash register and the machine coin boxes were untouched. Lieutenant Harper said, “This is clearly a homicide and we’re not sure if he was alive when someone placed him in the dryer. It appears the dryer was set for the maximum time. Whoever did this went to a great deal of trouble washing Mr. Freeman’s clothes and drying them separately.”

Gastonia Chief of Police, Phillip Copeland said, “In thirty-plus years of police work I have never come across anything quite this strange. We may very well be dealing with a lunatic. We have our detectives working on this and they’ll continue throughout the holiday weekend doing their utmost to find the killer.”

What was not mentioned to the reporter was that a third dryer was also running when the customer made the grim discovery. A single playing card was in that dryer. That card had two baseball players on the back as well as two large circles with baseballs inside of each circle. A single baseball was between two baseball bats. The Ten of Clubs playing card was probably left in the third dryer by the suspect and the police were entirely oblivious as to the meaning of that card.

The holiday break was over and Harley returned to school on Monday, January 2. He went to classes the first week but had no real interest. This would be Harley’s last year at the academy. He had a few friends and enjoyed some of the school activities, but for the most part he was bored to tears.

In another twenty-five days, three Apollo astronauts would be killed in a spacecraft flash fire during a virtual launch of the Apollo-Saturn space vehicle. Lieutenant Colonel Virgil Grissom, Lieutenant Colonel Edward White, and astronaut Roger Chaffee would soon die in the abysmal accident.

America’s armed forces were increased to nearly a half million troops serving in Vietnam. Thirteen U.S. helicopters were shot down in a single day on February 15, 1967. Peace rallies grew as the number of protestors increased. When President Johnson revealed his plan for a lottery for conscription into the military, Harley sat up and took notice. Later that year the Government eliminated draft deferments for those who disregarded draft laws, including burning draft cards or meddling with military recruitment for the war. Harley realized the powers that be were not dinking around…they meant business. While the first draft lottery was over two years away, Harley had already made his decision. He didn’t have time to fight in Southeast Asia. Harley was more concerned with his own ass. He knew in his heart of hearts most of the REAL people that could hurt him resided in America. He believed his personal killing fields would be in the good old U.S.A. On a personal level he wished the military good luck and sincerely hoped it would slap the piss out of the North Vietnamese and anyone else that interfered with America’s interest.

Spring turned to summer and Harley traveled quite a bit. He was no longer restricted by bus terminals and train schedules. He had plenty of cash and a great-running car. He was off to see the U.S.A., as Dinah Shore was once fond of saying, only Harley would do so in a Barracuda and not a Chevrolet.

He drove the entire East Coast and saw all the sites from Key West to Maine. The Jack of Clubs was left in Charleston, South Carolina, near a popular tavern not too far from Battery Park. Three men were found in an alleyway. All three of them were shot in the head execution-style. Harley felt nothing for the two innocent bystanders. His thoughts on collateral damage were simple. If you stand too close to the puddle, you just might get splashed.

As he continued driving north he found another. The Queen of Clubs was placed in a box of half-eaten popcorn inside a movie theatre in Toms River, New Jersey. The theatre manager was shocked to find a body in the second to last row of seats when the late-night movie was over. The customer had been rudely strangled to death with piano wire for no apparent reason. Harley enjoyed watching
Wait Until Dark
, a movie starring Audrey Hepburn, and he connected with Alan Arkin’s character. Harley liked the way some violent criminals were portrayed in the movies, but even more, he especially liked how some moviegoers were able to do really nasty things themselves once the theatre lights dimmed.

He took one look at Bar Harbor, Maine, and his two-day planned stay turned into two weeks. He’d never seen anything like it in his entire young life. Acadia National Park was the land of enchantment for Harley, the mountains, trees, and plentiful wildlife were more than he’d ever imagined. While the park area was less than fifty thousand acres, small by national park standards, Harley still believed he’d saved the best for last—Maine.

He visited the ocean’s edge and rambled along trails that took him by creeks and streams as well as lakes and ponds, he reveled at the sight of cliffs and exquisite gardens. It was a magical place with panoramic views and it was more than a place to visit, it was a place where Harley could totally relax and think.

On the third day of his visit, he was returning to the inn where he was staying when he first saw her. She was on the front porch and she immediately caught his eye. She was strikingly beautiful in her mini tent dress and the pink and shock-orange colors complemented her dark shoulder-length hair. Harley couldn’t help staring at her. She looked up from her magazine and saw him and smiled. The
Life Magazine
was a three-month-old issue and the May 12 cover showed Truman Capote with actors Scott Wilson and Robert Blake. It promised the article inside would revisit the nightmare filmed on the scene of the crime in the movie,
In Cold Blood
. The movie dealt with the shocking murders of a Kansas farmer, his wife, and two children in 1959.

Harley said, “I read the book and those murders were gruesome. The guys that did it were executed two years ago.”

She was confused at first and then she looked at the cover. “I wasn’t reading the cover story. I was actually reading a review about the movie,
Two for the Road
. I’d like to see it because Audrey Hepburn’s in it and I like her a lot.”

“What a coincidence. I just saw,
Wait until Dark
. She was in that and she was great. The movie was intense, but I liked it just fine. Are you staying here?”

“No, the owner’s daughter is a friend of mine and I’m waiting for her to get back. She went with her mother to do some shopping.”

The attraction was immediate and mutual. Harley pointed at his car and said, “That’s my car over there, the Barracuda. I’m taking a break before I go back to school.”

“I like the way it looks. Is it fast?”

“It has decent speed. Let’s go for a ride and you can see for yourself.”

“I’m not sure. I don’t even know you. Can I trust you?”

“My name’s Harley Ames; of course you can trust me, I haven’t killed anyone in days.”

She laughed and said, “You’re funny Harley. My name is Ginny Kagel, pleased to meet you.”

They went for a ride around Bar Harbor and found a waterside lobster shack. They visited, and before long it occurred to Ginny that she’d forgotten all about her friend. When she and Harley left the lobster shack they were holding hands.