The Devil's Laughter Read online

  “My God!” she said with a laugh. “Look, I’ll make a deal with you. You help me move some office equipment, and I’ll come down and check on your critters.”

  “You got a deal.”

  Her office and hospital was a long building located behind the house and connected by a covered walkway. A lot of work still needed to be done. “I’m a pretty good carpenter, Anne,” Link told her. “I’ll make a deal with you: You handle the tougher cases of mine, and I’ll renovate this building. You’ve already got most of the materials.”

  “You real sure you want to do that?”

  “It’ll keep me out of mischief,” he said around his grin. “How old are your children?”

  “The boys are seventeen and twelve, Betsy is ten. The younger two will work until they drop. Chris won’t lift a finger unless he’s lifting it to steal something or to smoke a joint or take a drink of whiskey.”

  Link met her eyes. “Hard words, Anne.”

  “But true. He’s a bum. You’ll see. Instant dislike.”

  “This town has its share of teenage crapheads. That’s for sure.”

  “Well, you got one more.”

  * * *

  Anne stood in Link’s front yard, her mouth open in astonishment as the animals jumped and howled and mewed and barked and brayed all around her. Link finally got them all settled down and led her on a tour of the barn. She was pleasantly surprised at the cleanliness of the place and the obviously near-professional care Link was giving the injured animals. She inspected a hawk and looked up at Link.

  “Without X-rays I can’t be sure, but I suspect this bird will never fly again.”

  “Yes. I know. The bullet passed through the wing and shattered the shoulder. She’ll have a good home here.”

  She straightened up and studied him for a moment. “I knew that name was familiar. You write a syndicated column, don’t you?”

  “Yes. Among other things. I’m surprised you’ve read it. There are no major papers that carry my column.”

  “You’re very controversial in your writings.”

  “To say the least,” Link replied. “I believe in the death penalty, I believe in the right to protect loved ones, home, and self by using deadly force if necessary without fear of jail or lawsuits, I believe that animals have rights, and I am firmly convinced that some people are born to be bad. Yes, I’m controversial. How about a cup of coffee?”

  “I’d like that.”

  Anne was leery of Kat, the ocelot, but soon settled down when she found that the nearly forty-pound cat was about as aggressive toward humans as a dictionary.

  “She will attack if a stranger forces his way inside,” Link explained. “She’s done it before. I got sued the last time a punk broke in and she mauled his face.”

  “Did the thief win the suit?”

  “Of course he did. Our judicial system does leave a lot to be desired.”

  “You’ll get no argument from me about that. The two young thugs who robbed and killed my husband were so-called minors in the eyes of the law. I believe they served less than eighteen months in jail before they were released. I left New York City shortly after that ridiculous sentence was handed down.”

  “That was recently?”

  “No. Several years ago. I moved to southern California and disliked living there more than I did living in New York City. Where did you get the ocelot?”

  “Down in Central America. I was doing some flying down there about five years ago. A man had a kitten for sale and I bought her.”

  She smiled at him. She had pegged him correctly when she saw the fences and gates and the pistol lying within easy reach on the end table by his chair. “What kind of flying were you doing down there?”

  “Hauling cargo, more or less.”

  She laughed out loud. “Link, my dad retired from the Company.”

  He grinned. “The money was good. And I have to admit, I liked doing it.”

  “You still fly?”

  “I keep my license up to date and take my physicals. I was a bush pilot for a while, too. I guess I just wanted to come home and write.”

  They sipped their coffee and studied each other for a moment, both of them liking what they saw. She concluded that Link Donovan could be a very rough man if pushed past a certain point. It was not that he was physically overpowering, for he was not. It was in his bearing, in his eyes, in the way he moved. Her father still had that same intangible aura of danger hanging over him and he was in his early seventies.

  Link concluded that this lady was a lot tougher than she looked and that he was definitely going to get to know her a lot better.

  “I was surprised when I learned that a town this size didn’t have a vet,” she said. “I belong to a professional organization that helps place vets through newsletters and so forth.”

  “We had a vet. He moved to Monroe several years ago.”

  “You think I can make a living here?”

  “Oh, yes. A lot of people in this community really care deeply for their pets. We’ve got some around here who are unfeeling toward animals, just like any community in any state, but the majority are good, decent people. I think you’ll do fine. You certainly have my business.”

  They chatted for a few more minutes, then Anne left, saying she had to do some shopping in town. Link gave her the keys to his gates, in case of emergency, and told her he’d see her in the morning.

  Link wandered around the compound, playing with his animals. A man and his wife, who Link knew well, called and then drove out, looking for a pet for their grandchild. They picked out a two-year-old husky-shepherd mix that some worthless son of a bitch had dumped on the road, and Link gave them the papers showing the dog was up to date on his shots.

  The chief deputy, Gerard Lucas, drove out just as the couple was leaving. “Found a good home for another one, Link?” he asked, opening the compound gate and carefully closing it behind him.

  “I think so. They’re good people. Want some coffee?”

  “Yeah. Sounds good. The day is pretty cool.”

  The men sat in the den. “You have a run-in with Charlie Ford, Link?”

  “Not much of one. I told him if he wanted to settle it, we’d find us a cornfield and have a go at it. He didn’t have anything to say about that. He’s all mouth, Gerard.”

  “Yeah. But he’s gotten worse over the past several months. He’s changed; like a lot of others in the parish. You haven’t noticed it, Link?”

  “I guess not, Gerard. But then, a lot of folks in this town never did like me – including my own brothers and sisters – and the feeling is mutual. I disappointed the power structure. I didn’t play by the rules growing up – as you and Ray know – and when I came back, I still wouldn’t play their stupid little social games. So I’ve gotten pretty well insulated from the general dislike.”

  Link sipped his coffee, set the mug down on the end table, and asked, “Does Ray have a clue as to what’s going on in this town?”

  Gerard’s eyes became hooded and cautious. “You think something is going on, Link? Talk to me about it.”

  “You’re the cop, Gerard. You’re the man with the so-called finger on the pulse of the community. You talk to me about it.”

  Gerard stood up and walked to a front window. He was a big, solid man; a man the hoodlum element in the parish knew to walk lightly around. With his back to Link, he said, “You believe in the supernatural, Link?”

  “I don’t know, and that is an honest reply, Gerard.”

  He turned to look at Link. “You believe in God?”

  “Yes.”

  “You believe in Satan?”

  “Yes.”

  He stared at Link for a moment, then nodded his head. “What I’m about to say goes no further than this room, okay?”

  “You got it.”

  “I thought about going to Father Lattier with this. But he’s old and not in the best of health. His assistant, Father Palombo . . . well, this is his first parish. He’s
young. And he’s a real liberal when it comes to law enforcement. He’s strongly opposed to capital punishment. I can’t talk to the man. Link, have you ever thought about our position here in the parish?”

  “I’m . . . not sure what you mean, Gerard.”

  “Here we are, one of the biggest parishes in the state, hundreds of square miles, and LaGrange is smack in the center of the parish.” He held up three fingers. “Only three other towns in the whole parish, and two of them are so small they don’t even have post offices. Oakland is about five hundred people, and it’s way to hell and gone on the other side of the parish. We don’t have an Interstate system. We don’t even have a principal highway running through. We’re isolated, Link. Think about that.”

  “Gerard, what are you getting at?”

  “LaGrange is just under ten thousand in population. There’s just slightly over twelve thousand in the whole damn parish. We’ve got hundreds of square miles of nothing but piney woods and rolling hills around us. Christ, people have been lost in this parish for days before we found them. And a big-assed swamp that some people laughingly call a lake.” He sipped at his coffee, lifting his eyes to meet Link’s confused gaze. “And we’re entering the last ten years of this millennium.”

  Link blinked. “What? What the hell does that have to do with anything? What are you talking about, Gerard? Wait a minute. I’m with you. The end of the one-thousand-year period when Jesus Christ will return and establish His kingdom on earth. Okay. But I still don’t know what that has to do with . . . whatever the hell we’re talking about, Gerard.”

  “Maybe there are those who are gearing up to fight the return of Jesus Christ, Link.”

  “You’re reaching, Gerard.”

  “Maybe. But what if I’m right?”

  Chapter 5

  Link was not a religious man. He had been raised in the church, abandoning it the day he left home, and had never been back. Link did not like organized religion. As far as he was concerned, it was the day when a great many people took two aspirin for their hangovers, hoped that the person they’d propositioned the night before had been too drunk to remember it, then dressed up to the nines to see if they could outdo the couple in the next pew. He believed in God and tried to do the best he could as he walked through life toward that dark and unknown end.

  But that night he got his Bible out and read Revelation, Chapter 20. As usual, he was more confused than before. He had always held a sneaking suspicion that the people who wrote certain parts of the Bible must have been trained as lawyers.

  After breakfast, he tossed some tools into the back of his truck – an ancient pickup that his father had bought back in the late sixties – and drove up the road to Anne’s place. She had left the gates open for him, and he drove in and closed them behind him.

  Anne was not in a real peachy mood. “I get my hands on those punks that came out here last night, howling and moaning and keeping me awake all night, I’m liable to put some birdshot in someone’s butt.” She shook her head and grinned sheepishly. “I’m sorry. It’s been a very long night. How about some coffee?”

  “Okay. Then we’ll go to work.” Seated in the kitchen, he asked, “What happened last night?”

  “Probably some of Chris’s hoodlum friends. He draws them like bees to flowers. Or flies to crap,” she added. “They actually got into this house!” she said indignantly. “All the moaning and weeping and cursing . . . I’ve never heard anything like it. The kids were absolutely petrified – and so was I. Then I got mad. I started screaming and yelling . . . and it ended. Just like that. I couldn’t find one trace of the punks.”

  “How’d they get in?”

  “I don’t know. All the doors were locked.”

  Link sighed. Might as well tell her. “Anne, did you personally see this house before you bought it? Walk through it, maybe?”

  “No. I told the real estate person what I wanted, and he sent me pictures. I fell in love with this place.”

  “He didn’t tell you it was haunted?”

  She looked at him for a moment, then burst out laughing. She wiped her eyes and patted his hand. “Thanks, Link. I guess I needed that. I know I did. I feel better.”

  “I’m not kidding, Anne. No one lives in this house for very long. It took one couple only a few weeks before they disappeared.”

  “What do you mean, disappeared?”

  “Just that. Not one trace of them was ever found.” He told her the history of the old Garrison place.

  Anne was silent for a moment after he finished. She sipped her coffee and set the cup down into the saucer. Her eyes were flashing warning signals. “So the real estate man found him a sucker from out of town, right, Link?”

  “Well, let’s don’t jump to conclusions just yet. As a kid, I used to come out here on a dare. Very few of us would. Me and Ray and Gerard mostly. I never heard anything strange . . . other than what a child’s imagination drew for me half scared to death. What did Chris say when you confronted him with it?”

  “Oh, I didn’t accuse him. I don’t have any proof. But he was strangely happy this morning. I think he loved every minute of it.”

  They both were silent for a moment. Anne took her coffee cup to the sink and rinsed it out. She turned and leaned against the counter. “No damn ghost or pack of punks is going to run me out of this house, Link. I’ve fallen in love with this place in the short time I’ve been here. And on that subject, here’s something else: If there is some sort of psychic energy . . . hanging around, why didn’t they – or it, or whatever-start their shenanigans the first night? Why wait several weeks?”

  “I didn’t say I believed the place was haunted, Anne. I just mentioned the rumors, that’s all.”

  “What are your feelings on ghosts and . . . well, the supernatural in general?”

  Link turned that around in his mind. For sure, his feelings on the subject had changed over the past couple of days. And he wasn’t sure why. “I guess I believe in ghosts, Anne. I don’t think a ghost can hurt you. But they can probably make you hurt yourself.”

  She slowly nodded her head. “I think I just won’t believe in ghosts and then maybe whatever it was last night will just go away.”

  He smiled at her. “It’s worth a try.”

  “What about that murder in the parish? What was the boy’s name? Stern. The TV station I was listening to last night said something about devil worship.”

  “I don’t know about that,” he lied. Ray had released just enough to the press to make them curious. “I do know it was a savage murder.”

  She sat back down at the table. “I moved from L.A. to get Chris away from crap like that, Link. He was dabbling in devil worship with a group of young thugs and their girlfriends out there.”

  “I hope there isn’t anything like that going on around here. But I suspect there is. Anne, this is none of my business and you can tell me to butt out if you want to, but I’m curious about something. You don’t seem to be in a great rush to open up for business, and I know this place and the acreage around it didn’t come cheap....”

  She raised a hand, stilling him. “My husband was well insured, Link, and we had made some good investments. I’m very comfortable . . . almost to the point where I don’t really have to work. But I’m far too young to even think about doing nothing.”

  “Okay. I was just curious. Let’s do some work and then take a ride. I want to show you something.”

  * * *

  “This place is eerie,” Anne said.

  They were standing in front of the old Romaire Industries plant, well away from the dark and rusting complex.

  “Same feeling I got,” Link said.

  She had watched without comment as Link opened the glove box in the cab of the old pickup and taken out a Beretta .380, exactly like the one he carried in his Bronco. He had put two full clips in his jacket pocket. Her father had never gone unarmed, so the move did not surprise her. What it did tell her was that Link had probably worked spe
cial operations many times and a lot of people would like to see him dead.

  “Let’s walk around the complex,” Link suggested, locking the truck.

  “What a lovely way to spend the afternoon,” she said, softening that with a smile.

  Inside the fence, Link pointed out the old drape lying in a dirty heap and told her the story behind it. He had her laughing at his antics when the drape had fallen on him.

  “I would’ve enjoyed seeing that,” she said.

  “I did some fancy stepping, for sure,” Link admitted. His eyes caught the faint furtive shadows of something moving inside the middle building. The dirty windows prevented him from knowing whether it was human or animal.

  Or neither, the words came to his mind. He pushed that thought aside. It’s one or the other, he jammed into its place.

  “Did this place ever get into operation?” Anne asked.

  “I’m not sure. I guess it did for a few months.” They were being trailed by the man in the building. And Link was sure it was a man. He kept telling himself that. This place was sure bringing out the worst in his imagination.

  They came to the end of the middle building and stepped into the gloom between the second and third buildings of the complex. That awful smell hit them both.

  “Phew!” Anne said, wrinkling her nose.

  “There’s someone in there,” Link spoke softly, jerking his head. He stepped to Anne’s right, putting himself between the woman and the unknown tracker in the dark old plant.

  “Exactly what I need after last night,” she whispered. “More mystery.”

  Whoever was inside the building bumped into something or tripped. The loud sound of metal hitting the concrete floor reached them both. Link jerked out his pistol and jacked back the hammer. The Beretta was a double-action autoloader, so that move was not really necessary, but Link liked to gain that extra split second if he had to trigger off a round.

  “Easy, Link,” Sheriff Ray Ingalls’s voice reached him. “It’s me, Ray. I stubbed my damn toe. It’s dark as shit in here. And smells just as bad.”

  Link laughed nervously and eased the hammer down on the .380. “How’d you get in, Ray?” he called.