Heads Will Roll

Chapter 1

THE SCREAMING FILLED the air around him. Men, women and children’s voices yammered in unison, all to make themselves heard above the others. And the stink; it roiled through the milling crowd smearing odor like a muddy dog wiping its coat against your leg. The animal barns, freestanding latrines, and cook tents contributed to the atmosphere.

Ed Riley smiled. He loved county fairs. There was nothing like them to get his blood pumping. Granted, he’d been to huge amusement parks that sported rides from hell, rides that could make you scream bloody murder as you plunged down rails or slides, parks that had theme shops every ten steps. Money fell down a multi-colored hole in those places, but a hometown fair was total pleasure. Friends who had stayed around after high school, or came back to visit during the summer attended, too. It was like a reunion. Everyone who lived in or around Portledge showed up. He could overhear bits and pieces of their lives, trivia dribbled like popcorn as they strolled around the fairgrounds.

At twenty-two, Ed was a graduate of Penn State with a degree in journalism, and for the past eighteen months worked for the Town Telegraph, the local daily newspaper. Mac, the chief and only editor, had hired him right out of college. So far, Ed had earned his keep, although the hard way. He reported on two separate murder cases and was nearly killed both times. It drove Mac and Ed’s over-protective mother, Ruth Riley, crazy. He loved it.

Today though, was worry free. What could happen at a happy place like a fairground in Portledge? Nothing, that’s what; just a good time with a new girlfriend, a face full of cotton candy and a few potshots at the shooting gallery. He looked at Deana beside him and felt the warmest glow he’d felt in a long time.

Deana was twenty-two years old and nearly as tall as Ed, five feet, eleven inches. When her friends called her Everest, she’d laugh and pat them on the head. Her silky, genuine blond hair swept down her back like a curtain, and its smooth style complemented her oval face and trim figure.

To Ed, and anyone else who saw her, she was dream, a fantasy, too pretty to be real. She had only lived in Portledge a few days, working at her aunt’s antique shop when he met her and immediately made his pitch. He wasn’t going to let some yahoo grab her up and make off with the best-looking woman around. Besides, she had a way of making this old town seem romantic instead of staid, and quaint, not ratty. A great place to live. Something he had never given his hometown credit for. After three months with Deana at his side, the thought of leaving Portledge, leaving her behind, was no longer a consideration. If she liked it here, he did too. End of story.

To him, the old town had been a stopping off point, a place to get his feet wet in the newspaper business before he left for the big city, any big city, to make his mark. But, strange as it seemed, working at the Town Telegraph had been exciting. Murder wasn’t common in the old burg, and as one of only two general reporters on the paper, he found himself smack in the middle of both investigations with a personal stake in the outcome. But today was a happy day, a day at the fiesta with his gorgeous girlfriend.

Ed smiled and grabbed Deana’s hand. Let’s go to the freak show. That place blows my mind.

Deana laughed. You mean like bearded ladies and six legged dogs?

Even better, Ed replied. This one has famous murder scenes done up in mannequins. But don’t worry about the dog. His extra legs are duct taped on, he added with a smile.

Yeah, let’s do it. This might be better than midnight horror shows on TV.

By then they reached the attraction in question. A huge marquee boasted:

THE GREATEST MURDERS IN HISTORY

Gore Galore!

&

THE HUMAN PINCUSHION

More Parts Pierced Than A Tailored Suit

&

More Human Oddities Inside

The smell of the preservative in the canvass tent pervaded the air, and tinny organ music filtered through the stiff fabric walls.

Ed waved his hand at the garish placard. Isn’t this great? Let’s go in! He pulled Deana toward the ticket seller who eyed her from his rickety perch. Suddenly, Ed stopped, spun the two of them around and started walking at a rapid clip back down the row, yanking Deana after him.

What the heck are you doing, Eddie Riley? Deana craned her head around to see what or who they were escaping from, but could see only two older women waving at them. Who are the ladies behind us?

Ed wouldn’t answer. The women trailing them were his mother, Ruth Riley, and her friend, Rhoda Green, Dr. Green’s wife. Since Ed had met and started dating Deana, he had kept her under wraps, a girlfriend unknown to his family of nosy, controlling females. Within twenty minutes of meeting her, his mother and his sister, Peg, would have him and Deana advised about every aspect of their relationship, married and blessed with a pack of kids. The thought of it sent him down the fairway, dragging Deana behind.

Eddie Riley, you stop right where you are! Ruth Riley’s voice carried through the din like a piper’s fife through cannon fire. Small and trim, Ruth wore her short and smooth salt and pepper hair and clothing in a crisp, no-nonsense style. Everything about her was a study in brisk efficiency.

Years of training grabbed Ed by the legs and brought him and Deana to a lurching halt. He whispered to her, It’s my mother, the inquisitor. Pretend we’ve only just met or you’ll get the third degree. He didn’t like to cast a negative light on his mother, but he’d been through this before, and no matter how much he complained, she still grilled each girl she saw him with, sizing her up as Ed’s future mate.

Ed and Deana turned and smiled at the ladies. At the sight of Ed’s companion, awe dropped their jaws. Rhoda was the first to recover.

My goodness, Eddie, introduce us to this lovely girl. Rhoda blinked her eyes as though she couldn’t take in Deana’s appearance.

Mom, Mrs. Green. This is Deana Ramage, a friend of mine. Deana, this is my mother, Mrs. Riley, and her friend, Mrs. Green. He tensed, waiting for a barrage of questions. To his surprise, his mother simply held out her hand, a dazed smile on her face. Rhoda did a little better.

Hello, Deana. How nice to meet such a lovely friend of Eddie’s. Where have you been hiding yourself in such a small town?

Ruth woke up. Yes, I’m surprised I haven’t met you before … a girl as pretty as you. Where do you work?

Ed sighed in exasperation and Deana, a twinkle in her eyes, smiled and said, I’m from Albany, New York. My Aunt Pat owns Terwilliger’s Antiques here in town and I’ve been working with her for a few weeks.

Oh yes, I know of the store. It’s nice to see a young person join a relative in business. Ruth shook Deana’s hand and patted it in approval. Where are you young people off to? It looked like you were about to enter that tent of terrors when you bounded away like springboks.

Oh, sudden change of mind, Mom, replied Ed.

Would you change it back? Rhoda and I were just about to go in to see what’s so horrible. We’d love for you to join us. Safety in numbers, they say. She waited for their agreement. No one replied.

Finally Rhoda spoke up. I guess it’s just us old ladies to brave the interior. Old lady didn’t exactly describe Rhoda. She was sixty years old according to her driver’s license, but her face and figure had withstood the test of time. She hated the sun and never went out without a broad brimmed hat and a layer of SPF 30 sun block, and for the last fifteen years had taught aerobics in a small gym in a converted garage at her home in town. Her carefully dyed champagne blond hair and expertly applied makeup caused men in their thirties to turn in interest.

Deana turned to Ed and smiled. I think it’s a great idea and more fun if we all went in together. Come on, Eddie. Let’s do it.

Ed tightened up. Ohmygod … She’s going to fit in with those two. She likes them. This may be a short romance. Sure. Whatever. It will be great. Yeah, great watching his beautiful girlfriend become Mom’s, Rhoda’s and potentially Peg’s, best buddy. Not on his watch.

Sighing, Ed followed behind the women who quickly made their way back to the macabre attraction. The man in the ticket booth leered and winked broadly at Rhoda as she paid for her ticket, and he nearly drooled on Deana when Ed pushed four dollars at him. Ruth and Ed brought the dead stare of boredom to his face. As they walked into the tent, Rhoda dropped her change onto the ground and spent a few moments fumbling for it in the crushed grass.

Men like that make me sick! she said as she clawed the crumpled bills into her purse. They think they can do anything they want around decent women. Rhoda stumbled as she stood up.

Take it easy, Rhoda, dear. Ruth grasped her friend’s arm to steady her. He’s just a carnival man. Not worth angering yourself over. Those kinds of fellows probably do that just to get a rise out of us.

I suppose so. Still, it makes me angry. Rhoda straightened her blouse and patted her hair.

The interior of the tent was set up in a maze. In order to see the freaks and murder vignettes, people had to move through in small groups of two or three along cramped alleys to view the tableaus set up at the far end of narrow, canvass walled rooms. Ed and Deana had gone ahead and were looking at the first display. A placard set on an easel declared that SNAKE MAN was a true child of a man and an anaconda from Brazil. Born in the Equatorial rain forests, he had been raised by giant anacondas to the tender age of seven when Indians had found and taken him to a local Christian orphanage.

Ed and Deana stared down the ten-foot alley at the creature on the small dais. Snake Man seemed to be covered from head to toe in gray fish-like scales. When he moved, they seemed to lift and refit as though actually attached to his skin, and to make it worse, he stank like a fouled snake cage.

Holy cow, would you get a load of that? exclaimed Ed. Where in hell do they find these people? He knew it could only be some sort of suit with scales attached, but how could the man wearing it stand the smell of snake crap rubbed into it?

Deana shuddered and jugged Ed’s arm. Let’s move on. I can’t stand to look at him anymore.

Ed draped his arm around her shoulder, flipped a wave at Snake Man, who winked back, and walked her down the next alley to the first murder scene. It was a beauty. A headless body wearing a long, blood-soaked, white gown lay sprawled across a satin covered bed. Ed knew it was a woman’s body, first, by the generous offering of cleavage spilling from the low-cut dress and, second, because a man dressed in early English clothing stood beside her holding up her severed head by its long brown curly hair. The sign on the easel said, Henry the Eighth Scores Another One for Matrimonial Bliss.

Ed started to laugh. He couldn’t help himself. After a few seconds Deana pushed him from the scene into the maze alley.

Wow, this is a gory little show, isn’t it? Let’s get this over with.

Aw c’mon Deana, ‘One for matrimonial bliss’? That was funny.

Yeah, funny. Where are your mom and Mrs. Green anyway? We were supposed to do this together.

Ruth and Rhoda bustled up behind them. Here we are, dear. Isn’t this a nasty exhibit? Ruth smiled and shook her head. Remember the one we saw years ago, Eddie, at the fireman’s carnival. Same idea, but with today’s materials, this one is remarkably gory.

I remember it, replied Ed. It even had a strip show for the guys, but it was on the far edge of the show grounds. The women hated it and the men went in droves to see it. Ah, the good old days.

It most certainly did not have a strip show! Ruth flushed in embarrassment.

"Heck, yes,