The Devil's Punchbowl

CHAPTER 35

Linda is sitting in the front pew of the church, near the wooden rail. Pastor Simpson sits facing her, his hands hanging between his knees. He looks like a laborer forced to put on a suit for a funeral, but when you feel his hands, you know he hasn’t done real labor in years. He’s a talker, soft-spoken and sincere. He’s been talking to Linda about the totality of God, but she can’t keep her mind on the words. She’s burning up, her leg is throbbing, and her ride is late, hours late, picking her up.

“I’m sorry it’s taken so long, honey,” Simpson says for the twentieth time. “That dern nephew of mine can’t hardly get no work, and now he gets called out to rig like this…and after what you said, I didn’t think we should tell nobody else but Darla about you being here.”

“I understand,” Linda says, trying to keep her mind clear through the fever. “But the Bargain Barn closed a long time ago.”

“I told you, hon, Darla sits with sick folks sometimes after she gets off, and tonight she had to check on a patient. Somebody probably ran off and stuck her with their mama or something. Happens all the time. Darla don’t charge half of what professional sitters charge, so people are all the time taking advantage.”

“Where exactly are we going?”

“Oh, you’re gonna love it. My brother’s got a place way out in the country. Ain’t nothing there but trees and ponds. Nobody to hurt you, or even see you. Just an old cabin. You can stay out there however long you need, till the coast is clear.”

“All by myself?”

“Well, Darla can stay awhile to get you fixed with food and sundries. But after that-” Simpson falls silent at the sound of an engine. “See there? All that worry for nothing.”

Linda feels a dizzying rush of relief. The pastor reaches out and steadies her. “She’s gonna knock three times, so we’ll know it’s her. Okay?”

“Okay. You said Mayor Cage got my note, right?”

“That’s what Darla said. Now, let’s get on down the aisle.”

As Simpson helps Linda to her feet, three loud knocks reverberate through the cold church, like someone banging on a castle door.

“Come in,” the pastor calls. “We’re coming.”

The door opens, and Linda sees a tall silhouette in the door. Darla, for sure. But as the silhouette moves forward, Linda perceives its narrow waist and broad shoulders. Then a shaft of light falls on the handsome face of Seamus Quinn.

Linda’s stomach heaves in terror, and she whirls toward Pastor Simpson, who’s looking at her with terrible shame on his face.

Quinn strides up the aisle with two big men flanking him. Linda recoils and tries to run toward the altar, but her torn knee gives way and she collapses in the aisle. The two men rush forward and lift her to her feet.

“How can you do this?” she asks, her eyes on Pastor Simpson. “You’re a man of God!”

“Just a man, Linda. I’m weak, like everybody else. I sin like everyone else. It’s the curse of my life.”

Simpson turns to Quinn and says, “We’re square now, right? That’s what you said? All debts canceled?”

Quinn gives him a broad grin and slaps his back. “No worries, Padre. For now. I’m sure you’ll be back at the tables soon enough.”

“No!” Simpson cries. “Never. This finishes all that!”

Quinn’s laughter reverberates through the church as they drag Linda toward the door.

“They’re going to kill me!” she screams, looking back at Simpson with pleading eyes. “You know they are!”

“The Lord will keep you, child! Have no fear. You’re a child of God, perfect in his eyes. But I must to render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s. My family needs me, Linda. My congregation needs me. You’ll be saving all of that with your sacrifice, just as our Lord did at Calvary!”

“Fuckin’ hell!” Quinn shouts, laughing. “Shut your fucking gob already! You’re worse than the bloody Taigs!”

As Simpson falls to his knees at the altar and begins to pray, Linda’s knee gives way at the door. The men lift her bodily and carry her toward a black SUV.

“Who’s going first?” asks one of the men holding her.

“High card wins,” says the second.

“Get your arses up front,” snaps Quinn. “Age before beauty, that’s the rule.”

He lifts the rear gate on the SUV and the men slide Linda into the cargo area on her back. “Get on with you,” Quinn says. “This is no peep show.”

One man slams the rear door down, and they get into the front seat. After the motor starts, Quinn leans down beside Linda’s ear. “You led me a merry chase, darlin’. But I like a game bitch. I’ve been waiting a long time for this. I’ve already seen pictures, now let’s see the real thing.”

Linda struggles as his hand slides down her stomach, but when a razor-edged knife grazes her throat, she freezes. Seconds later, her pants have been cut from her body as smoothly as if by a nurse in an ER.

Quinn’s eyes glint in the dark. “So that’s what kept the boss in such a state,” he whispers. “Not bad…not bad.”

“What do you want?”

“Everything you gave him,” Quinn whispers. “Then more.”

Linda’s shock and fever have held her at some chemical remove from the situation, but now reality is settling into her bones. God has not delivered her anywhere but into the hands of Tim’s murderers.

“Please don’t hurt me any more,” she whispers. “I’ll do anything you say.”

“Course you will.” Quinn laughs harshly, then hits the front seat twice to signal the driver to go. “Everybody does, in the end.”