The Light at the End of the Tunnel (6 page)

Les Paul was again loose on the world. He
knew it!

Nurse Waters’ remark stayed with him too:
‘He smirked!’

Les Paul was alive and well, and already
beginning his new life of crime—well, a smirk wouldn’t exactly be
evil, but still….

****

The chaplain’s day ended. As usual, about
6pm, he entered the local mom and pop café in whatever little town
he happened to be in, and had his main meal of the day. This
particular town he had not yet searched. He had just sat down at a
table—

“Waters! Your order’s up!”

He jerked toward the sound of the loud voice
and saw her. A young, very pretty woman with dark brunette hair
went to the serving window and picked up two plates—
it’s
her!—
then balanced a third and fourth one and walked quickly to
a table where sat three young men.

“Hey, baby,” one of them said as she placed
the four plates, “You gonna have some time after?”

“Sorry, sir, but I have to get home.”

“So what time ya get off, anyway?” the same
man asked, completely ignoring the answer she had just given. She
ignored the second question and finished the setting. Then she went
to the cash register by the entrance, plucked a menu, approached
the chaplain’s table, and smiled, a smile that went far beyond
pretty, “How are you, sir?” she asked.

The chaplain was having his thoughts and
feelings. Even though a member of a religion that allowed marriage,
he had practiced celibacy all his life. He noticed all three of the
young men staring their way, especially the one who had spoken. It
appeared the man had not given up. But now, he, the chaplain—though
suddenly he felt even
less
a chaplain—had Ms. Waters’
attention, “I’m fine, young lady, and how is
your
day
going?”

She increased her smile but said, possibly
immediately trusting the white-haired gentleman before her, “It was
going good, up until…,” she shifted her eyes toward the three young
men.

“I understand.” He suddenly remembered the
very small amount of physical training he had received during his
five earlier years—before the prison job—as an army chaplain. It
wasn’t a lot, but even that small amount gave him a bit of
confidence, “Don’t worry about those boys,” he finished.

Ms. Waters increased her smile by at least
ninety percent, “I won’t. Thank you. Now, what can I get for
ya?”

****

A half hour later the chaplain was still
enjoying his meal. Several times he had heard the chef yell
‘Waters! Order up!’
It seemed to him that the chef could
have shown a little more class, maybe could have installed a bell
to ring, or at least could shout a little softer. Strange, he had
been hearing very close to the same thing all during his search at
the mom and pop restaurants, and never before had it bothered him.
And of course he wouldn’t let it bother him now, either.

“Waitress!” The new shout came from the table
with the three young men. The chaplain jerked his attention in that
direction just in time to see the mouth raise his hand and snap his
fingers. This irked him but he remained quiet, and continued with
his meal, and suddenly noticed the restaurant was empty but for his
table and the one with the three young men.

Ms. Waters walked hurriedly to the table,
“What can I do for you boys?”

“Don’t call us
‘boys’
for one thing,”
the main mouth said.

“All right. Sorry.”

“No prob, babe, we’ll forgive ya if you join
us for a drink after. You must be gettin’ off soon cause the dang
place is empty.” The mouth glanced toward the chaplain, “I guess
except for the old dude over there.”

Ms. Waters glanced at the chaplain too, then
answered, “I’m sorry. I don’t go out with men I don’t know.”

“What the hell! We’re on a construction
project right down the street and we’ve been comin’ here all week!”
The mouth pushed his chair back. He appeared to intentionally cause
it to make a loud noise, “You should
know
us by now!”

Ms. Waters stepped back, then glanced toward
the kitchen. The chef, obviously, was busy elsewhere, or simply not
interested. The mouth stood, at least six feet and likely 200
pounds. His friends were not lightweights either, but they remained
seated.

“Ms. Waters…,” the chaplain called out.

“Yes, sir.” Ms. Waters glanced, stared for a
second or two, evidently made a decision, then walked quickly to
his table, “What can I help you with, sir?” She smiled that same
wondrous smile as earlier.

“Don’t worry about those boys,” he said, “I
won’t let them hurt you, or even bother you.” With the announcement
he stood, then walked forward and placed himself between Ms. Waters
and the three young men. His heart was pounding more than he had
ever experienced, yet he was completely calm otherwise.

The two young men still seated exchanged
glances with each other, then they both looked up at the main
mouth. Anyone watching—but there was nobody—could see the two
seated men were all set to grin, yet were holding it in. The mouth
glanced at his buddies, then back at the chaplain. His eyes got
extra big, then moderated, “Well, looks like Waitress Waters has a
knight in shining armor, but with white hair.” He laughed, then
glanced at his buddies. Then they laughed too, apparently glad to
finally release their humor.

“Fuck it, man,” one of them said, “We don’t
need her. Let’s get the hell out’a here.” They both pushed their
chairs back and stood.

“Yeah,” the mouth said, and threw one last
glance, “We’ll meet again, ol’ geezer.”

The three left the restaurant, and all became
quiet.

Ms. Waters let out a breath, pulled out a
chair and sat down at the chaplain’s table, “Thank you, sir. Those
three have been bugging me all week.”

The chaplain returned to his chair and sat
too, “Maybe they’ll quit now.”

“No. They won’t. It happens wherever I work,
so I have to keep quitting and moving to the next town and I’m
getting sick of it.”

The chaplain continued eating while
listening.

“Through some little quirk of nature I lost
my nursing job—and I didn’t just lose it! They said I was crazy,
and even dangerous, so they fixed it so I could never get a job
nursing again, and I had just started…”

“Just started…?”

“Yes, I had just finished two years of school
and became an LPN. I thought about two more years to become a
Registered Nurse, but, that meant two more years, and, anyway St.
Winston’s Human Resources Director told me almost right away that
if I did well as LPN, the hospital itself would pay for two more
years. Well, I kind of blew that.” She smiled, not quite the
radiantly-bright one as earlier but a good smile, “I also found out
I wasn’t crazy about changing diapers, and not good at it,
either.”

“Oh…?”

I started late in life…” The smile dropped a
bit, “Oh, I don’t mean changing diapers—well, that too, because,
without any siblings and nieces and nephews, I really hadn’t
changed any diapers, not till St. Winston, but, that’s another
story.”

“Yes?”

She glanced at him, and increased her smile
again but the smile was toned down, as if she maybe thought she was
stepping out onto quicksand, but wasn’t sure it was quicksand and
wasn’t sure what would happen, “I spent ten years in another
profession….” The smile remained toned down. It almost
disappeared.

“Yes, Ms. Waters, you can tell me.”

“I…was a dancer…an exotic dancer, including
pole-dancing—but no lap dances! I wouldn’t do that!”

The chaplain looked at her quietly, “It’s all
right, Ms. Waters.” He gave her a longer look, “I don’t judge, and
I’m sure you were very beautiful in your dancing—“ her smile turned
up for just a second or two “—and what you did before is fine.
People have to do in life what they have to do.”

“I didn’t have to do it.” Her smile toned
down again, any further and it no longer would be a smile, “I did
it because I liked it, and it was damn good money! But wherever I
worked the manager would soon start bugging me to do lap dancing—“
The smile disappeared completely, “And I knew what would come next.
Even the other girls bugged me to
‘just get it over with! We all
do it,’
but I kept refusing and, like now, I had to keep
quitting and moving to the next town. Eventually I just bought a
minivan that I could live in, partly at least.”

“You didn’t have to tell me all that, Ms.
Waters, but I’m glad you did.”

Her smile lit up again, maybe even brighter,
“Thank you.”

“No need to thank me, but, if you wish, you
are welcome.” He sipped his coffee, “I’ve been looking for
you.”

The smile changed to a big question mark,
“
’Looking’
for me?”

“Yes, about what happened at the
hospital.”

Her eyes narrowed, “You’re not another
reporter, are you?”

“Oh my, no, I’m actually a chaplain.”

“A
‘chaplain?’
”

“Yes.” He grasped his napkin and wiped his
mouth, “Are you through here, for the day, Ms. Waters?”

“I’m through, all right—those boys will be
back tomorrow night…and you won’t be here to protect me, and that
chef back there,” she jerked her thumb backward, “He’s worthless!
He wouldn’t help me if I was on fire and he held a fire
extinguisher! So, yes, I’m through! All I have to do is tell him!”
She stood, “I’ll be right back.”

“Will he pay you?”

“I doubt it, and I don’t care.”

“I’ll wait outside for you then, will you be
all right?”

“Yes, give me five minutes.”

****

“So that’s my story, Ms. Waters.”

“My name is
‘Nikki,’
Chaplain, double
‘k,’
short for
‘Nicole.’
” Ms. Waters’ smile was back,
brighter than ever, “You may call me by either name, whatever you
wish.”

“Thank you, Nicole.” He smiled, “I choose to
call you
‘Nicole.’
That’s a very pretty name. And my name is
Radford O’Hare.”

They had driven to a state park outside of
town that Nicole knew about. Then the chaplain had joined her in
the minivan so they could share each other’s stories.

“That little devil! I
knew
there was
something different about that kid, and even between the three
times he
did
something, his expression, it…it, I can’t even
explain it.”

“Of course we don’t really know if it truly
is
Les Paul. That’s why we have to get a DNA sample,
although I have no idea about that, if it even could be the same
DNA, because biology says he was created by a new mother and
father. I’d like to find them too. You’re certain you saw nothing
outside…?”

“Nothing. Just the squalling baby. I ran out
there and no taillights, nothing, and I’ve never heard any other
baby screaming quite like him. I….” She shook her head, “What
else?”

“Well, we have to try to find the baby Les
Paul’s trail,” the chaplain said, “If he stays true to form—that
is, irritating his caregivers—he’s went through about three or four
foster families by now.”

“Les Paul, that name sounds so familiar.”

“Les Paul and Mary Ford, a fifties singing
group. Husband and wife, I believe.”

“Wow, husband and wife. Are they still…with
us?”

“They did divorce, and I don’t know about
Mary Ford, but Les Paul is deceased.”

“Hopefully neither ever knew about Les Paul,
the monster.”

“I doubt they did. Most people—unless they
are directly or locally involved—likely don’t pay much attention to
stories about murderers.”

“Right, and I agree, and I wouldn’t either,
but now I’m intrigued.” Nicole Waters’ smile simply brightened the
whole inside of the minivan, “Was Les Paul a murderer?”

“I expect he was.”

“You don’t
know
?”

“All I know is that he was judged as one of
the worst-of-the-worst criminals of all time. As I said, I went
along with his execution just as I have for several others, until I
came across that book.”

“Wow.” Nicole’s eyes were huge and bright,
“So what do you say, Radford O’Hare? Do you want a partner in this
hunt?”

“I do, and we could sell my Ford and just
travel in your minivan.”

“For sure.”

“But you
do
understand
‘the
hunt’
as you say, could go on for years.”

“I do, and I want to make something
absolutely clear to you from the beginning. We are partners in the
hunt and that is all. I guess we’ll have to…actually,
live
,
together, but…,” she sobered, hesitated and waited.

“Understood and agreed.”

She smiled, but appeared a bit restrained, as
if she had not been sure he would so readily agree, “So what
happens when we find him?”

“Honestly, I don’t know.”

Her smile brightened, “We’ll figure that part
out when we find him, partner.”

****

That particular state park—unbelievably—did
not charge for camping. The two brand new partners spent the night
in their individual vehicles, but Nicole made some changes in her
minivan in order to—in the future—accommodate the chaplain. That
night seemed to last forever and neither slept very well, at least
both thought they didn’t.

When the chaplain woke and sat up, the first
thing he noticed was the pretty face of Nicole, already in the
driver’s seat, looking in his direction. He waved, then felt
embarrassed. Nicole gave an enthusiastic wave back, then he felt
less embarrassed, and climbed out. Nicole did the same.

“Good morning, partner,” she said, with a
smile that the chaplain would never get tired of seeing.

“Good morning,” he returned, “What say we go
to the next town and have breakfast?”

“Just about ten miles from here,” she said,
“It’s not really a town but a roadside Inn where I worked about six
months ago. I left them for the same reason I explained yesterday,
but we are still friends.”