A Few Excerpts
Chapter 1 - December 1976
The second time Lou arrived in Eugene it was well past midnight. He trudged up to his shared second-floor rental, squeaked open the door, and turned on a living room lamp.
Malcolm would be asleep by now in his step van, presumed Lou. He wondered if the larger bedroom was still vacant. Maybe Malcolm had found another roommate to further split the bills. He glanced around for clues. The usual dark blue navy peacoat hung on a chair. A bowl of tortilla chip remnants waited on the dining table next to the rotary phone and its twisted cord. An aluminum pot was still on the floor in a corner, catching a slow drip. Nothing new here.
Lou shed his scruffy orange backpack, lighter now in content, heavier with miles. He caught it in the crook of his arm and lowered it onto the aged, worn sofa. He removed his wide-brimmed hat and dropped it on top of the backpack, then scratched alive his matted dirty blond hair. As Lou unsnapped his jacket a small voice spoke.
“Hello.”
Lou looked up to see a petite woman of about his age, twenty-three or four, standing at the foot of the short hallway to the bedrooms. She wore narrow glasses, a long nightgown over her pajama bottoms, and fuzzy pink bunny slippers.
“Hello,” he said.
“Who are you?”
“I’m Lou. I live here.”
“I’m Anne. I live here.” She snugged her nightgown a little tighter. “Well, goodnight.” Anne turned around and disappeared down the hallway.
Lou nodded with a gentle grin. Indeed, Malcolm had found a roommate. It was little surprise, given the flow of life in Eugene. Lou donned his hat again, hoisted the backpack onto one shoulder, and headed to his small room and the unmade futon with a notion of protracted sleep.
Purpose of Life...
At the final door in the hallway, Lou decided to knock first. No answer came. He opened the door to a dim room. Candles along the edge of the floor cast a fluttering light on the walls. Different scents arose from a blend of burning incense: cinnamon, rose, lavender. On the floor sat eight people, cross-legged or on their knees, encircling a lone figure lying shirtless on an Indian rug, hands folded upon his chest. The prone man, eyes shut, long hair fanned out beneath his head, intoned a prolonged hum.
“…mmmmmmmmmmm.”
The room became silent. Lou noticed Honeysuckle sitting with the others, now wearing a circlet of flowers instead of the cat mask. He realized he had seen most of them around the house, these young female devotees of Ram Jam Bliss. Not knowing what was coming next, or if it was okay to speak up, Lou chose discretion. He entered the room, eased the door closed, and drew near Honeysuckle. He stopped when one of the followers spoke.
“Guru Ram Jam?” The young woman paused, waiting for acknowledgement. Everyone waited.
“Ram Jam listens,” said the man on the rug. Only his lips moved.
“Guru Ram Jam, what is the purpose of life?”
More waiting. Lights fluttered. Scents rose. Lou froze, his breathing stilled. Everyone was motionless. The loudest sound was that of the flickering candles.
Ram Jam Bliss took a breath. “The impeccable purpose of life…” All bowed forward to hear. Hearts paused. The candles held their tongues...
Who's Billy Shears?
“Listen up. My name is Roscoe Driscoll, Special Agent with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. We have probable cause to believe that a federal fugitive is in this building. (He shot a glance at Blitzman.) All of you are wearing makeup and in disguise. So, let’s make this easy before it gets hard.” Driscoll raised his voice. “Which one of you clowns is Billy Shears?”
Headley called in his patrolmen from the other room. The clowns fidgeted and frowned, their playful nature crushed by Driscoll’s hard scowl. Lou stood at the end of the line, his heart pounding, droplets of sweat smearing down his greasepaint. He looked at the other clowns. Their broad, happy smiles appeared macabre over their anxious faces.
“Five seconds to step forward, or you’re all going to jail! Who’s Billy Shears?”
The patrolmen positioned themselves behind the lineup.
Lou gulped. He couldn’t let anyone else suffer for his actions. And he hated the prospect of getting locked up. Especially not now. Not if Jax was waiting for him. But what about Billy? Had he given his innocent friend enough time? Too late. Time had run out.
Lou tried to swallow through his dry throat. He took a breath. He closed his eyes. He lifted a ridiculous shoe and began one step forward.