Greg and Cynthia had remained at the murder scene for nearly an hour, watching the police, giving statements and talking to neighbors. So, Greg had arrived at the church later than usual, and stayed later, and now he was in a hurry to eat lunch at Jane’s Diner before his first lesson at 1:00.
But as he rushed down the sidewalk to Jane’s, he still made the effort to look for new bumper stickers. It was an addiction. He could not pass by a car without checking its bumper. It was always fun to find one he’d never seen before—like the one on the car in front of Coreyville Copy Shop.
If ignorance is bliss, then you must be ecstatic.
Not very nice, he thought, but it was a new one for his collection. He filed it with hundreds of others in his mental database. Not the best use of a brain, but they say most people only use 10% anyway.
“So, I hear you’ve had quite a morning,” said Jane as Greg walked through the door. She was standing behind the counter at the soda fountain, filling glasses with various soft drinks.
“You could say that.” Greg wasn’t the least bit surprised that Jane had already heard about it. By now, he thought, everybody in town knows. He walked over to the counter. “She was one of my piano students.”
“Yeah, I know. But why were you and Cynthia at her house at 6:30 in the morning?”
“We were jogging.”
“Oh, yeah. Your new health kick. But why did you stop at Nancie Jo’s house? What tipped you off?”
“Nothing, really. I was concerned about her because she missed her lesson last night. And she didn’t call to cancel, so I called her. But I got no answer. Now I wish I’d gone to her house last night. Maybe I could have done something.”
“Yeah. You could have got yourself killed.”
“That’s true. But I still feel bad about not checking on her sooner.”
“Well, from what I hear, she was already dead by noon. So, there was nothing you could have done. Do the police have any leads?”
“You tell me,” said Greg.
“Hey, I don’t know everything that goes on in this town,” she said with a sly grin.
“Well, I talked to the neighbor across the street, but he wasn’t any help. I told the police what he said, but they didn’t bother to interview him.”
“Oh, I know who you’re talking about. No wonder the police didn’t care what he had to say. He’s crazy.”
“He did seem kinda off.”
“Not kinda off. Way off.”
“Anyway, he said a nurse came to visit Nancie Jo on Thursday and that she was driving a white car, and something about the word ‘ecstasy.’”
“See? The guy’s wacko,” said Jane as she walked away with the tray of soft drinks.
Greg mulled it over. A nurse…white car…ecstasy… How awful it must be living in a fog, never making any sense. Ignorance is bliss, they say. Maybe not. Where had he just read that slogan? Oh, yeah—the bumper sticker on the white car in front of the copy shop.
If ignorance is bliss, then you must be ecstatic.
Ecstatic. ECSTASY. The bumper sticker on the white car in front of the copy shop! He ran out the door to look at the car.
But it was gone.
*
It was nearly 8:00 PM, and Carnie was driving to Jake’s house when her cell phone began to ring.
“I miss you. And I want to get married,” said Carsie.
“I know. I miss you too. But don’t worry. The wedding will be back on track before you know it.”
“Really? Is Mallie Mae doing better?”
“Not that I can tell. But I think he’s about ready to marry you in spite of her condition.”
“Why? I talked to him yesterday, and he didn’t sound any different.”
“Uh…I don’t think you can tell over the phone.”
“I should come back.”
“No. I mean, you need to give him a little more time. He’s missing you more every day. Eventually, he won’t be able to stand it. Then he’ll beg you to come back and marry him.”
“Wow. I hope you’re right, Carnie.”
“Just be patient, Sis. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“Okay. Bye-bye.”
Carnie parked in the driveway and walked up to Jake’s front door.
When she knocked, Jake swung the door open immediately. His eyes nearly popped out of his head when he saw her. But it was almost too much—like looking directly at the sun. He wasn’t sure whether she was wearing a dress or a long, stretchy shirt. But she was definitely not wearing a bra.
“You’re on time,” said Jake.
“Of course.”
“How are you doing tonight?”
“I’m fantastic.”
Yes, you are, thought Jake.
“Because everything’s working out perfectly,” said Carnie. “Sit down and I’ll tell you about it.”
They sat on the couch.
“For our clinical trial I had planned to gather four volunteers. The tricky part was that they had to have Alzheimer’s disease. So, I got some records from the local pharmacy and picked out a few patients. But most people with moderate to severe cases don’t live alone and they certainly don’t go out by themselves.
“So, that meant taking them from their homes and having to deal with a caretaker, which could get messy. But then I realized I could just round up four older women who don’t have the disease, and make them pretend they do. The whole clinical trial thing is a farce anyway.”
“Then why are you doing it?”
“Okay. If you tell anybody any of this, I’ll have to kill you. And we wouldn’t want that.”
Jake had no doubt that Carnie was capable of murder.
“My sister, Carsie, is engaged to Dr. Elmo Mobley. They were supposed to get married tonight, but he postponed the wedding after he found out his mother has Alzheimer’s.”
“Okay. But what does the clinical trial have to do with it?”
“Because, if I can get Elmo to believe that we’ll try all of his different treatment ideas to find the best one for his mother, then he will have done all he can to help her. And then he would feel free to marry my sister.”
“I don’t know, Carnie. That’s sounds kinda crazy.” He really thought it sounded absolutely insane. What Carnie was planning was unethical and probably illegal. A respected doctor like Elmo Mobley wouldn’t go along with it—even if he thought it would save his mother. But Jake needed to be careful what he said. He couldn’t afford to make Carnie angry.
“No, you’re wrong. It’s going to work. And anyway, if it doesn’t, I have a sure-fire backup plan.”
“What’s the backup plan?”
“You know what? I’m getting bored,” said Carnie, standing up. She turned her back to Jake and bent over.
He didn’t know what to expect.
She grabbed the bottom of her dress and pulled it up and over her head as she spun back around. She was completely naked. “Let’s do it.”
And they did. Many times and many ways, throughout the night.
After a couple of hours, Jake began to wonder if there was such a thing as murder by sex. He knew he had sold his soul to the devil. But for the time being, he just didn’t care.
*
Macy Golong didn’t have a love life—at least, not in the real world. She loved vicariously, through her romance novel heroines and her dream-life alter ego. If it were not for her job, she might well have been swept away by her intense fantasies, never to be seen again in the physical realm.
A few years back she had purchased Total Dreamcall, written by some doctor in Australia according to the internet site. In it, he described a technique for recalling dreams in great detail. He claimed that dreams could be replayed, as though they were movies. She had learned to focus on remembering her dreams immediately upon waking—to think of nothing else until she had total recall, or as the doctor put it, Total Dreamcall.
The so-called doctor might have been a quack. But regardless, she had become an expert at recalling her dreams. They were quite vivid, and included talking and sometimes even background music. So real were her dreams and her recollection of them, that they were beginning to overshadow her waking life.
How do we know what we really did, and what really happened to us yesterday, for example? We know because we remember it. But what would happen if our memory of dreams was the same as our memory of real events. How could we tell the difference? We could ask somebody else who was there. But what if there was no one to ask?
Suppose you remembered breaking into your neighbor’s house last night and slitting his throat. And then going home, taking a shower and going to bed. If your neighbor is alive the next day, you know it was a dream. But, what if he’s dead? And what if his throat has been cut? Are you certain you only dreamed killing him?
This is how real Macy’s dreams had become.
The church had been decorated beautifully. And it looked as though every resident of Coreyville was in attendance. The pipe organ was proclaiming the glorious entrance of the bride.
Macy beamed as she walked down the aisle. She noticed Carsie in the crowd, on the groom’s side. What was she doing there? Macy had won Elmo. Carsie had lost, and should not have been at the wedding. But nothing would spoil her special day.
She stood with Elmo proudly before God and man. She glanced at her handsome groom. Her dearest dream had finally come true.
But she started to feel a laser-like burning at the back of her head. She whipped around and located the source. It was …HERSELF. The person staring at her was HER. But how could that be?
She blinked and she was looking at Carsie. But they had swapped places. Carsie was now in the wedding dress, standing with Elmo. Macy was in the congregation, looking at her.
No!
She woke up. It took a full five seconds for her to realize it had been a dream.
Sometimes her dreams were no better than real life.