The Labyrinth of Blue Towers:
The Disappearance of Jack Arneson
(A Sewing Box Mystery)
Chapter 1: Friday, June 10, 2011, 7:21 pm
Chapter 2: Saturday, June 11, 2011, 8:38 am
Chapter 3: Thursday, June 28, 1984, 10:10 am
Chapter 12: Saturday, June 18, 2011, 8:00 am
Chapter 25: Sunday, June 18, 2011. 2:13 am
“Are you coming?”
Kathleen had definitely lost all patience where they were concerned. She’d already disappeared behind a tall stack of blue plastic bread crates - the kind used when delivering multiple loaves to a store. Missy noted that the crate’s sides were blazoned with the name Brother’s Bread and a pair of the ever-present, cheerful, gluttonous little monks. Desperate to keep up, Missy kept her eyes trained on the wisp of light that kept slipping behind one mass of blue plastic after another. She felt like a lab rat being led through a maze. It seemed as though she and Jeanette were constantly mere footsteps away from being left in the dark.
“Slow down, Kathleen!” bellowed Jeanette. Though out of place, the tone got the desired result and Kathleen stopped in her tracks, allowing them to catch up.
Kathleen, flashlight aimed at the ground, eyed them like a schoolmarm corralling wayward children. “All together now? Good. Shall we?” Sarcastically, she motioned like a movie theatre usher for the ladies to fall in behind her. The trio continued to thread their way through the stacks of crates until Kathleen came to a halt. With great effort, and without asking for assistance, she pushed aside a single stack of crates, revealing a hidden door. She fit the key she’d lifted from the second statue of St. Peter into the door’s lock and turned it.
Pushing down on its large, crudely-welded handle, she shoved her shoulder into the door, causing it to open a crack. Turning back, she smiled at Jeanette and Missy right before flipping a light switch located on the right on the outside of the door. “Come in, please.”
With guarded heart, Missy stepped forward and squeezed through the opening of the heavy metal door. Jeanette followed suit, struggling just a bit more, due to her purse which was still pinned to her bust like a warrior's breast plate. They found themselves standing in a small cinderblock room with no windows and just the one door. The floor, unlike the rest of the basement, was bare concrete, although it appeared that at one time there may have been carpeting, for here and there. Missy could see ribbed patches of old, blackened glue. The place smelled slightly damp, as if it lacked proper air flow. The ceiling consisted of the same dark-hued rough beams as the rest of the basement. Coated with flanks of ancient cobwebs, a single bulb in a gridded metal fixture hung in the center of the room. The only piece of furniture was a sturdy canvas cot, the kind soldiers used, which had been placed at the room's center. It had been stripped of its bedding with only a small naked pillow at its head.
“Don’t close the door. And don’t worry about the light,” Kathleen purred. “Nothing can seep out of here, trust me.” Her attention then turned to the cement grooves in the cinderblock walls. A manicured index finger trailed behind her as she began to very slowly make her way around perimeter of the room. Though, in Missy’s eyes, nothing appeared very special about the room, Kathleen was strangely energized and seemed entranced.
“Now, I suppose you’re wondering what we’re doing here, hmmm?” She shot the women a quick look over her shoulder. It reminded Missy of a cat. “You know who built this room? My father. He and Abe Longren... you remember him, don’t you? Fat old fuck. Big wheezer. He’s been wheezing most of his life. Ever since I can remember.” Kathleen now stood in front of the wall opposite the door which Jeanette and Missy, stiff and unsure, had not moved from in front of. Kathleen continued, “They were friends. Shared.. common interests. Among them? Child pornography.” Her mouth formed a soundless, mock-shocked ’Oh’ as her eyes grew large and darted back and forth between the two women in an attempt to gauge their response. Seeing none, she smiled and then began tracing the cemented grooves of the cinderblock walls once again; traveling slowly along the wall toward Missy and Jeanette’s right. “I know! Nasty business! But then, they were nasty men. They were part of some network - a distribution system, I guess you could say. This was in the days before the internet. VHS tapes, remember those? That was how such things were exchanged back then.”
As she talked, she continued her way around the room, eventually walking between the ajar door and Jeanette and Missy, forcing the women to step further into the room. “It was an odd situation., my father, Abe Longren, and the Brothers. Oh, no, don’t misunderstand - the Brothers? They had no idea what was going on down here, or anywhere else in the world, for that matter This room? It’s soundproof. And the Brothers, at that time, they were rather naive - what with their vows of silence and lack of interaction with the rest of the world. They were cut-off, clueless. So, in a way, I guess they were the perfect hosts, the perfect cover for such vile business.”
In a show of bravery, Jeanette leaned forward and tested the stability of the cot before sitting down. She now sat facing Kathleen, who stood in the corner, just to the right of the door. Intuitively, Missy countered around the cot and stood behind her aunt “These walls. What they have witnessed...” Kathleen continued to touch the walls as she spoke, her hands caressing them as if reading braille.
“How” Jeanette’s question broke through Kathleen’s reverie
“I beg your pardon?”
“How did Abe and your father pull this... 'child pornography' thing off?”
“Wheezy, uh, Abe... was surprisingly good with children. Driving around in his bread truck all day, visiting various towns - he was kind of like the ice cream truck man. And they were smart. Knew better than to pick the local fruit, because that could backfire on them; too close to home. Instead, they plucked their little sweeties - boys, girls - it didn’t matter, from neighboring communities. They’d ply them with treats and toys, bring them back here for a little fun, and then drop them back off where they found them. And somehow... probably shame, because children - they do feel shame, deeply. Somehow they kept getting away with it. Until Boyd Dean came along. That was the end of it. But the odd thing? Even after that? He remains the only one to come forward.”
When Jeanette spoke again, her voice was clinical, matter of fact. “The human mind is an amazing thing. It has the ability to wipe from memory things it’s not emotionally equipped to handle.”
Kathleen seemed to warm to this idea “Maybe. Maybe some of those faceless, nameless children were spared, in a way. Spared, and yet,” and with this, she became crestfallen, “not really. I mean, it happened to them. So young. They probably had no idea where they had been taken and even if they did tell someone, who was going to believe them? No one. No one ever believed anything. Even if you did tell.”
Kathleen appeared lost to a memory, and wanting to keep her on point, Jeanette prodded the woman, “So Boyd put an end to it?”
“Ultimately, yes. But the writing was on the wall a bit before that. The beginning of the end? That came in the form of Jack Arneson. They made the mistake of keeping him a little too long. That mother of his... made such a fuss. Got the papers involved. And I can see why; Jack, he was such a sweet boy. A complete innocent. He always believed that he was going home.”
Missy was glad they had finally gotten around to the subject of Jack Arneson. “So Jack was here?”
“Oh, yes. And in some ways... he still is.”
This last statement struck Missy as a bit odd, but Jeanette persevered, “What happened to him, Kathleen? Please tell us.”
A small, sad smile played on Kathleen’s lips. “I know this is what you came for. And you deserve the truth.” As she spoke, she began a second lap around the perimeter of the room, pausing every now and then, to reflect or for effect. Her tone took on a dreamy quality. “It was Christmas time. I came home from college to spend the holidays with my family. My family!” She chuckled at the thought. “My father was busy at work, my brother still at college, and my mother, sleeping off yet another dance with Jack Daniels in her bedroom. I was bored, looking around in my father’s study when I came across a VHS tape. Imagine my surprise? There was my father and old, wheezy Abe, running around dressed as monks, doing terrible things to that little boy. I was heartbroken... and livid.”
Missy put her right hand on Jeanette’s shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. They had found Jack. Kathleen, lost in memory, continued, her tone becoming fragile and somewhat childlike, “You see, when I went away to college? He promised he’d stop. That there would be no more. But he lied. Daddies are good for that - lying. Bad Mommies drink and Daddies tell lies. But in a way, I came to understand why. Jack was so beautiful. You didn’t have to be around him for more than a second and you could sense exactly how special he was. Like me. Yes, I was special once, too. And Jack? In Jack, my father found the perfect replacement... for me.”
Missy’s eyes remained glued on Kathleen while Jeanette stared straight ahead. Kathleen’s eyes began to tear as she went on. “I was his original girl. His best girl, star of a series of films - back then they were done in 8mm. The series was called Snack Cakes. You want to see me do a little ‘Swiss Roll’? A ‘Snow Ball’? How about some ‘Vienna Fingers’.” She cackled. “Disgusting, huh? Just the thought of it. Makes you want to vomit? Well, trust me... I did.”
Kathleen now became angrier, more incensed, as if the memory of such despicable acts had triggered something deep within. “But enough of this. This...” Her arms flew about, indicating the whole room, “This, I have no room for in my life. Not anymore.” She snapped to and suddenly the very capable and professional woman which she presented to the world on a daily basis returned front and center. “Do you have my book?” she snapped. “No? Left it at the hotel? Hmph. Good for you. No matter. It doesn’t matter. Even if they do find it no one will know its significance.”
She moved swiftly to in front of the door.
“No, no one will ever figure it out - because there isn’t a chance in hell that the two of you are ever going to tell anyone. About anything.”
Without looking back, she slipped through the door's opening, slamming the heavy door hard and locking it tight. Then the light went out...
...and Missy and Jeanette found themselves completely in the dark.
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Next Week: Chapter 26
