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The Water Tower
6 - THE LEWTON LURKER

6 - THE LEWTON LURKER

The bookcases towered above Richie Lynn as he marvelled at their sheer size. He was mesmerised by the quantity of books and couldn’t believe each of those hardback-bound spines contained stories. A ladder reached the top sections of some of the bookcases; otherwise, they wouldn’t be accessible. Thousands of untold stories and memories of others were just waiting to be read and experienced.

Richie pulled out a green-spined book at random and opened it to look inside. The yellow, aged pages flickered, making a ruffling noise as they turned. A distinct book smell wafted out from the pages, and Richie caught himself sniffing them as if examining food like a critic. It was hard for Richie to describe the smell, but it reminded him of opening his mother’s old sewing kit when he was little. A flood of memories popped into his mind.

Richie read a line at random from the book and found himself whispering it out loud.

“Arthur stared at the city skyline, the lights stretching like a promise he never quite believed. He wondered if anyone else felt that life was mostly a series of almosts and could-haves, dressed up in the comfort of routine.”

Richie turned the book on its side to read the title displayed horizontally on the spine. ‘Echoes of the Ordinary’ was etched onto the spine in gold lettering, with a smaller text below it: by Margot Weller. Before putting the book back, Richie turned to the last page, where the borrowing log revealed who had loaned out the book last. Unfortunately for Margot Weller, the people of Lewton weren’t very interested in her work. The last loan was over a year ago, to a Susan Hill who borrowed it twice. Lewton Library had a strict one-month loan policy, and clearly, Susan needed at least two months to finish Margot Weller’s fictional work.

Richie slid the book back and turned, taking in the library’s interior. It was surprisingly large for a small town. As you entered through the large glass double doors, you walked through a children’s section where Richie spotted a book from his childhood by T.J. Foretty called ‘Giants Have Hearts Too’. He remembered reading it in primary school and, although a bit childish now, Richie recalled its message: never judge someone on their appearance alone.

An older lady wearing round glasses wandered over to Richie, clearly noticing he seemed a bit lost. Her hair was pulled back into a bun, and Richie guessed she was in her sixties. Her brightly coloured dress gave her a younger vibe, and she sported a bright smile that matched her floating-like demeanour.

“Can I help you, young man?” she asked. Richie noticed her gold name badge immaculately displayed on her flowery blouse ‘Librarian: Mrs. Kosgrove.’

“I was just wandering around while I waited to meet up with a friend,” Richie replied with a smile.

Mrs. Kosgrove returned Richie’s smile and answered, “Would this person, by any chance, be about yay tall?” She gestured with her hand to a height slightly below Richie’s. “Red hair?” Clearly, she was referring to Billy.

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” Richie said, smiling at the librarian’s playful banter.

“Billy is a regular here and keeps me on my toes,” she stated, turning to walk in the opposite direction. “Right this way, young sir.”

Richie started to follow her as she weaved her way through the library.

“You new to town, or just new to the library?” she asked.

“Um, a bit of both, to be honest,” Richie replied.

“Well, if you need a town guide, Billy’s your man,” Mrs. Kosgrove continued. “He’s loaned out almost every book about Lewton imaginable. I’m sure he knows the history better than Mr. Fiddler, the local history teacher.” She smiled.

Richie noticed there didn’t seem to be anyone else his age in the library. There were a few elderly patrons scattered about, but definitely no other kids his age.

“Billy’s such a regular that I let him use the spare office at the back,” Mrs. Kosgrove stated. “Now, before you go, please remember to see me at the front desk so I can sign you up and provide you with your very own Lewton Library card.” She paused slightly before continuing. “Then you can borrow all the books you want.”

Richie couldn’t tell if she was being sarcastic or not.

“Sure,” he replied, wondering what kind of books the library might have on plants.

“Well, here he is, hidden in the back.” Mrs. Kosgrove opened an aged wooden door, revealing a desk strewn with books.

At the head of the desk sat Billy, so absorbed in whatever he was reading that he didn’t even look up.

“Big B,” Mrs. Kosgrove called loudly, trying to get Billy’s attention. “Earth to Big B.”

Billy Hilton looked up, startled, realising there were people standing in the room.

“Oh, hey, Annette,” Billy finally said. Richie raised an eyebrow at hearing Billy call an adult by her first name.

“Richie, thanks for coming.” Billy got up and jogged over excitedly, awkwardly going for a handshake and a high five at the same time, resulting in a weird wrist slap.

“What’s that, a secret handshake?” Mrs. Kosgrove asked, smiling at the pure awkwardness of Billy having a friend in the library.

Billy’s face turned a little red, unsure of what to say.

“I’ve never had a secret handshake with anyone before,” Richie admitted, a slight laugh escaping his mouth.

“Well, that one needs a bit of practice,” Mrs. Kosgrove giggled as she started to leave the room. “Oh, Richie, remember to see me so I can sign you up. They’re always on me about registering new members.”

“I will,” Richie promised as Mrs. Kosgrove closed the door, leaving the two boys alone.

“She seems nice,” Richie said to Billy.

“Yeah, she’s super nice,” Billy replied, admiration clear in his voice. “She lets me use this office space because I’m here a lot.” Richie nodded, already knowing.

“I think it used to be a place where people could rent it out for Tupperware parties or something.” Billy pushed his glasses back onto his nose.

“Did Ryan Castlebrook do that?” Richie pointed to Billy’s taped-up glasses. “I overheard him at school saying he would…” Richie paused, waiting for Billy to respond.

Billy took off his black frames and looked at the mucky tape holding them together.

“Yeah,” he admitted, embarrassed. “Brayden Gillespie and Peter Hike pinned me to the floor while Ryan Castlebrook took them off my face with his fist so he could hock a loogie at me.”

“Hock a loogie?” Richie asked, confused by the term.

“Spit,” Billy clarified.

“Oh, yuck. What a jerk,” Richie said, trying to comfort Billy. “But why does he pick on you?”

“He’s always had it in for me because…” Billy paused, realising not many people had ever asked him that question. “I… well…”

Richie waited patiently as Billy spoke again.

“I kissed his girlfriend, Ellie Westerfield, once.”

Richie’s eyes lit up.

“You what?”

“Yeah, at school camp.” Billy's face went a bright-coloured red. “We were playing a stupid kids' game, Murder in the Dark, where everyone had to have blindfolds on apart from whoever was the killer.” Richie Lynn nodded as he walked around the table and sat down while Billy continued his story. “Well, because of my glasses, the blindfold didn’t really sit right over my eyes, and I guess I could see.”

“Yeah.”

“And, well, Ryan Castlebrook was dating Ellie Westerfield at the time, and they were all over each other; you would think they had invented kissing or something.” Billy Hilton continued. “Ryan was tagged as killer, and he ran off to the other group quickly so they wouldn’t guess it was him, and, well, I guess I moved and sat in his place.”

“Wait, you did this on purpose?” Richie Lynn looked surprised as Billy seemed quite shy.

“Well, have you ever seen Ellie Westerfield?” Billy paused before he continued. “She is supermodel hot. I didn’t necessarily think I was going to kiss her, but I just wanted to sit near her 'cause she smelled pretty.”

“What did she smell like?” Richie, now enthralled with the story, asked him.

“Like…” Billy Hilton thought for a second, recalling from his memory. “Like peaches.” Billy grinned as he could almost smell her fragrance again. “Anyways, she thought I was Ryan Castlebrook, and she moved in closer, licking her lips. Now, the right thing was probably to tell her it was me.”

“And did ya?” Richie Lynn asked.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

“Nope.” Billy shook his head with a smile. “I just quickly pulled off my glasses and licked my lips too, you know, softened up a bit or something.” Billy lowered his voice almost to a whisper. “Ellie Westerfield leant in and…”

“And…” Richie enquired.

“Fireworks.” Billy made a little gesture of an explosion with his hands. “Ellie Westerfield frenched me.”

“She frenched you?” Richie said as he thought about how he hadn’t even kissed a girl on the lips before.

“Tongues slapping.” Billy now clapped his hands as if dramatizing it. “The best bit was that she leant back mid-kiss and said to me…” Billy now put on a girl's high-pitched voice, reenacting the event. “‘Wow, Ryan, you have gotten so much better at this.’” Billy said as he slapped playfully at Richie’s chest.

“Oh, dang. Is that when she found out it was you?”

“No.” Billy stated. “She leant back in, and we kissed again.” Billy paused. “And again. And again.” Richie laughed hysterically, tapping the table with his hands, making a drumming noise.

“Then the bad part happened. I heard Ryan Castlebrook's voice.” Billy now imitated Ryan in a deep, slow voice. “‘What the fuck? Ellie, what you doing?’”

“Oh dear.” Richie whispered.

“Oh dear, indeed.” Billy said. “Ellie Westerfield took off her blindfold and was mortified she had just kissed me and not Ryan Castlebrook. Ryan jumped on me, and, well, that’s when the beating commenced.” Billy took off his glasses and showed them to Richie. “I’ve been through so many pairs of these now that Mum said she couldn’t afford to keep buying me new ones, hence the tape.” Billy pointed to where the dirty, bound tape now lay holding his glasses together.

“Damn, dude, and that was a year ago?” Richie Lynn asked.

“Yeah, about that.” Billy thought about the timeline. “Ellie never dated Big Ryan Castlebrook again, and, for that matter, she doesn’t really talk to me now either. I think 'cause she knows it pisses Ryan off, I guess. The beatings have been getting progressively worse, though, and without these, I can’t see shit.” Billy put his Wayfarer black frames on slowly, so as not to damage them more. “Worst thing is…” Billy started.

“Yeah?” Richie Lynn enquired.

“Worst thing is, all the beatings.” Billy paused. “They were kinda worth it for those few minutes in heaven.” Billy Hilton finished.

Both the boys exploded with laughter, and Richie thought this was the first time since coming here he had enjoyed a conversation like the one he was having now with Billy.

The boys' laughter slowly died down, and Richie looked at the books laid out on the table.

“What are all these?” Richie enquired, thinking that Billy must have arrived well before one to have laid out all the books like this on the desk.

“Well…” Billy began. “Research, I guess.”

Richie picked up the closest book and looked at the cover. Threads of Mortality by Ian Somershold. It depicted a bald man on the cover screaming in anger, with a tagline at the bottom of the artwork: Exploring the Boundaries of Choice, Morality, and Destiny in the Mind of a Killer.

“Seems really heavy,” Richie stated, looking at the cover. “Why do you read things like this, Billy?” Richie questioned.

“Just trying to understand why people do what they do,” Billy Hilton replied. “For example, most people that do bad things have had bad things done to them when they were little,” Billy explained. “I learnt that from these.”

He gestured to the books laid out over the table, and Richie noted that most of the books were about murder and crime.

“So you want to be a detective or something?” Richie asked, slightly confused.

“Nah,” Billy Hilton replied. “But I don’t want to die at the hands of the Lewton Lurker.”

Billy pretended to be hung, cocking his head to one side with his tongue stuck out.

“The Lewton Lurker?” Richie questioned.

“Yeah, you know.” Billy tried his best impersonation of a newsreader. “A new body has been found in Lewton tonight as residents start to panic about the growing number of victims. This now makes the body count five, and police have absolutely no suspects.”

“Wait.” Richie paused. “This is an actual thing? People are dying in Lewton?” Richie’s voice cut through the playfulness of Billy’s banter.

“Well yeah, I guess,” Billy answered seriously. “But no kids our age or anything, mostly older folks.”

Billy Hilton could see that Richie seemed upset. “Aww man, I’m sorry. I was just playing around. And if it makes you feel any better, nothing has happened for a few months now, so maybe whoever it was stopped,” Billy said encouragingly.

“Is this why the school now does a roll call after lunch as well as mornings?” Richie always thought this was strange, but now understood why the school would do this.

“Yeah, Mr Hillard introduced that after Yasmin Bowers went missing,” Billy Hilton explained. “She was a teacher’s aide and, well, she turned up, you know.”

“Dead,” Richie Lynn finished Billy’s sentence.

“Yeah,” Billy muttered. “It’s freaked out a lot of the community because she was really nice to everyone.” Billy paused, thinking about Yasmin, how her writing on the blackboard was always so neat with her cursive lettering. “Not sure why anyone would want to hurt her.”

Billy Hilton thought of the image he saw on the front page of the paper that day. He remembered how Yasmin Bowers’ body was twisted and bent in such an awkward way that it could never have been replicated by anyone living. He recalled the image of her face down in Kernigons Creek. Billy Hilton breathed heavily in his thoughts.

“And that’s why I read all this,” he said, looking up at Richie.

“You want to know who did it?” Richie could see how determined Billy was by the look in his eyes.

“I want to catch them,” Billy said firmly. “I love this town and want it to be safe again. I know where most of the things have happened, and I try to stay out of the triangle.”

“The triangle?” Richie didn’t understand.

“See, these books talk about triangulating a pattern of where the person was taken to where they show up, you know...”

“Dead,” Richie finished Billy’s sentence again for the second time.

“I’ve done that and found if you just stay out of the triangle, you should be safe. Besides, most of the events have supposedly happened when we’d be safe in bed,” Billy said matter-of-factly.

“And you’ve mapped out this triangle?” Richie asked.

“Sure have. Want to see it?” Billy smiled, clearly proud of his hard work and eager to share it.

“Yeah, I guess,” Richie replied nervously, unsure of what he was about to see.

Billy leaned under the table and pulled out his Kickstart Kargo canvas bag that lay hidden underneath. From inside, he retrieved what looked like a square folded map. He opened it up, and the map doubled, then tripled in size as Billy kept unfolding it.

The map was of the town of Lewton, which seemed ordinary enough. But it was the red felt-tip marker lines drawn on top that caught Richie’s attention. On the left-hand side of the map, a large red triangle was marked out with the numbers one to five written twice, each number paired with an arrow pointing to its twin.

“What are these numbers?” Richie asked.

“The numbers represent the victims. All five.” Billy pointed to the number five on the map. “See number five? This represents Yasmin Bowers.”

Billy Hilton pointed to the number five, which lay on Bradbury Road on the outskirts of Lewton. He then followed the arrow to the same number, which ended in Kernigons Creek.

“See, this is where they found her, here.” Billy tapped on the map as he spoke.

“Well, who are all the other numbers?” Richie questioned, feeling strange calling the victims by numerals.

“Number one here—that’s Ivan Ulasky. He was the first recorded death. He was taken here.” Billy pointed to the number one on the map near Pennys Hill Road. “Ivan was found pretty close by to where he lived... here.”

Billy’s finger slid across the glossy map a short distance, shadowing the red marker to Belamese Park.

“He was found belly up on the double slippery dip.”

“Shit.” Richie gasped. Billy nodded in agreement.

“And then number two. That’s Gregory Wittholtz.” Billy pointed to the other side of the triangle. “He lived here on Elizabeth Street.” He thought about Gregory, remembering the details. “He showed up near the tracks and also here near Albert Street.” Billy Hilton stretched both his pointer fingers at the two spots.

“Wait, how did he show up twice?” Richie had no idea as he watched Billy pull a black colouring pencil from out of his bag.

“Simple.” Billy said as he applied pressure, snapping the pencil in half then dropping the pieces on the map.

“He was snapped in half?” Richie’s mouth dropped open.

“Like a wishbone.” Billy said with no emotion.

Richie moved one of the pencil halves from the map so he could see it better and then froze. “Oh shit a brick.” He panicked. “Who was number three?” Richie pointed to the map.

“Oh, that was Michelle Allens.” Billy began.

“That’s where I live.” Richie interrupted him. He pointed to the number three that lay on Wellington Place on the map. “Why isn’t there another number three?” Richie was looking for where Michelle Allens had shown up dead on the map.

“You live on Wellington Place?” Billy Hilton looked up at Richie. “What house number?”

“Twelve.” Richie frantically stated. “Why isn’t there another number where she showed up?”

“There isn’t another number three because…” Billy nervously started.

“Why!?” Richie Lynn exclaimed.

“Because she showed up dead in the same spot.” Billy finished.

“At number twelve Wellington Place?” Richie Lynn looked a little green in the face, worried about what Billy would say next.

“Holy shit, dude.” Billy replied nervously. “You live at the murder house.”

“I live where?” Richie Lynn looked back at the map.

“You live…” Billy swallowed and an audible gulp could be heard. “…where Michelle Allens was murdered. Number 12 Wellington Place.”

“I live in the murder house.” Richie spoke the words aloud and it didn’t feel real for him. The house where he and his mum stayed seemed so normal to him. He would have never suspected anything evil happening there. Billy lifted a finger, almost to pause Richie’s thoughts.

“There is an upside to that though.” Billy Hilton said as he flipped through the book titled ‘Patterns of the Perpetrator’ that lay next to the map on the table. “Where is it?” He flipped through the pages quickly, hunting for a particular section that he had clearly seen before. “Here!” Billy yelled as he found the page that he was looking for. Billy began to read the page aloud to Richie, trying to reassure him. “It is statistically uncommon for murders to occur in the same location twice. Most of these crimes are of passion or opportunity, driven by circumstances that are unique and unrepeatable.” Billy continued to speed read the next part, hunting for the specific verse he was looking for. “Ah hah. These crimes are influenced by the relationships, emotions, and decisions of the individuals involved, making the exact replication of events at the same location highly unlikely.” Billy paused. “You see?”

“Sure, the murderer might not come back, but what if the place is, you know, haunted or something?” Richie asked.

“By Michelle Allens’ ghost?” Billy thought about it. “Nah, I doubt it.” He answered his own question. “Michelle Allens was always baking cookies and cakes for the local community.” Billy continued. “If she came back, she would probably make your house smell like fresh baking.”

Richie Lynn smirked at the thought. "Well, I guess there are worse things than a ghost that smells like choc-chip cookies."

"Exactly.” Billy Hilton agreed. “Imagine if you woke up in the middle of the night to the smell of fresh brownies.” He paused, thinking of the best response. “That’s not haunting, that’s home delivery!”

Richie unexpectedly laughed. "So, what, instead of scaring me, she’d fatten me up?"

Billy grinned. "Probably. The ghost of Michelle Allens would be haunting stomachs, not houses."

Richie Lynn felt a little bit more at ease. “Mind if we talk or do something else for a little rather than look at the map?” Billy Hilton could see that Richie had become uneasy and felt responsible.

“Yeah, man, for sure. You just say it and I’ll be happy to do it.” Billy stated as he began to fold up the map on the table gently.

“Well.” Richie thought. “I would love to check out that Starcade Station place?”

“Oh yeah, the arcade parlour.” Billy looked down at his blue Neopulse watch, checking the time. “We could probably head there quickly now. It’s just…” Billy quickly calculated the time the boys had together. “My mum…” Richie Hilton began, feeling a little embarrassed. “She doesn’t like me hanging out there, so we would need to keep it a secret.”

“I got your back, man.” Richie Lynn replied. “She won’t find out.” Richie reassured Billy and could see a noticeable change in his demeanour.

“Thanks, man. I appreciate that.” Billy smiled at Richie and felt that he had someone he could confide in.

“If only we had a way to get there quickly?” Richie said. “It’s like the other side of town, isn’t it?” Richie asked.

“It is.” Billy’s face lit up excitedly. “But I have a ride that can get us there super quick.” Billy was referring to his bike, the Rail Runner, and he was excited as he had never had the chance to try out the Buddy bar on the back of the bike.

“What kind of ride?” Richie asked, grinning as he could see Billy’s face becoming excited.

“I have a freight train.” Billy Hilton said, smiling to his friend Richie.