No hell! There has to be a way. There has to be any clue, any proof, any vindication for my theory. I know am right. Mr. Frank. If not you then who?!
Or was it also another dream which I saw, like all the illusions shown to me earlier. Are the monsters trying to trick me?...
My mind started to babble at me ferociously, trying to judder and shove me into the reminiscence of the dream. As we slowly walked out of the Cathedral, Father Richard stopped and looked at me.
'That's it!', he said. He could guess what I was on to. 'I can feel the aroma of your thoughts. Try to work it out harder, Liam. Better be our last hope'.
I winced and tried to swim into the growing impulse in my brain. It was not like it was me who was trying to be pushed, but it was a force within - a hefty, resonating force which was wanting me to dive in and help myself out of this quagmire. I could feel the throbbing of the veins by my temple. The slow, but hard beating of the heart beneath my chest. It was all so hectic right now. It made me wonder if I was seeking too much out of the reality, battling with my subconscious, trying to get into something I had only seen through my tired, imaginary eyes.
This game was at a different level of complexity now. Each level I tried to clear, each hurdle I got over, I was faced with a new challenge. Each step I took, it made me doubt itself. All these had entangled me into a tricky situation. Every time I made a move to rise, I was being flung down. Now, I was so close to the truth, but yet it seemed so damn far. It had me count on my chances of escape.
I started recalling whatever I had seen throughout my dream. All the details - Edward losing his job, gifting his wife the silver memoir, trying to stand up on his feet again, losing it again, and again... Going into depression, getting involved in Satanism, developing a shorter temper. I just couldn't find any connection with it.
I sat down on a nearby bench by the sidewalk while Father Richard kept on looking at my face in anticipation.
Then I started going through the homicide. The way he killed his mother, his beautiful and kind wife and his sweet little daughter. The way his sanity had been sabotaged - all of this made me grimace. Father Frank was the ultimate person who got hold of the notorious.
What's the link? What's the clue?!
And then there was the enlightenment. A baffling one. How did I not pay attention to it?! I gasped and stood up.
'What? What happened?', Father Richard asked me.
'The hell how I missed it?!'. Father had a curious look over his face. 'I forgot to mention - there was another man in there. His name, um... Cooper... Shaun Cooper, I guess. He had been with Father Frank that night, the only other witness of the act.'
'He must also be dead. I don't know any Cooper for a long time here. Cannot be a known priest. We must have a look at his house. There may be something helpful for us.' I nodded as we started walking back into the Cathedral briskly.
As we got in, Miss Stacy asked, 'Father, all okay? Anything more I can help you with?'
'Actually, yes. I need access to the records room right now. Can you give me the keys?'
'Only if you insist'. She bent down and pulling out a drawer, started searching for the keys to the record room. 'Why is it though, about the record room?'. She glanced at me. 'What is it that you need?', she asked.
Just shut up and mind your business, for God's sake! - I yelled out in my mind. 'Some minor Clergy work', I said instead, trying to hide my annoyance at her questions. Finally, she found them and handed them over to Father.
'The lights are gone. You may need them', she said, handing over a light torch to Father. This time I gave her a repulsive look as we walked past her counter to the stairs.
'Got to find any information about that Cooper man', Father said to me as we reached the record room. He unlocked the door and we rummaged in. It was a close, humid room. Just a single window and that too was closed and covered with cobwebs. Father switched the torch on as we walked past the rows of shelves which were filled with an enormous number of books and papers - most of them even not in a readable condition. The room had been closed for a long time then. A Wizard's Paradise, if not a Church, I thought.
Father Richard stopped by a row and started running his eyes across the shelves. 'What must be his age at that time do you think?', he asked me.
'Nothing more than 36 or 38', I replied. He dragged a stool from the corner and standing up over it, got his hands on the fifth shelf and started having a look over all of the books it had, one by one.
I was just standing there and witnessing Father probing through the books when after some minutes he got down with a thick book - something more of a register - in his hand. 'Shaun Cooper it is, right?', he asked me. I nodded.
'A senior Clergyman. Had been at Denver till 1918 before he came here and settled down here under the Church till his voluntary retirement in 1963. He was here, under this Saint Lawrence Cathedral from 1921 to 1928. 'Sir' is what he always liked himself to be called.'
My eyes shone as I moved closer to him and had a look at the old, yellowish page. There was his portrait, not a photograph. But it was enough for me to realize that it was the man in my dream. The Clergyman. '1921 to 1928. And the murders had happened in 1924... We need to get to his house', I reminded Father.
'Yes yes. There it is, look, his address. 23/11 Elmond Street, Halmond. Halmond? Wait, okay, it's New Halmond now. Let's go, if we need something, it has to be there.'
After putting the register back from where we had got it, we started on our way to Sir Cooper's house. This time, I was the one who got to lead. Handing back the keys and the torch, we embarked my car and I started driving for a two hour ride.
...
As we stood before the old two-storied house, I wondered how beautiful it actually was. Strong, wooden planks, soft grass lawn in front, reddish-brown roof with a chimney - would be a nice experience to live here. But then the real reason for our visit there surfaced my mind and then all the images were gone. Another mystery before us.
'Someone else lives here now', I said as I pointed towards the Volkswagen in the driveway. 'How do we do it?'
'Keep it to me', he said as we walked further to the front door. He tapped the bell before giving me a glance. I pray the man ain't a jerk - I thought.
After a while, a fat man, in a loose shirt, opened the door and looked questioningly at both of us. 'Do I know you?', he asked.
'No, you not, sir. But we are from the Church and -'
'Oh wait, wait! We are the Non-believers. You won't get anything from here.' He was just about to shut the door when I interrupted, guessing what Father was planning. 'Um, sir, it isn't about you. A man from our Church used to reside here. You may know him - Sir Shaun Cooper'. He pondered, then shrugged.
'We are the tenants here. For a year or so. Can't tell if it's right', he said.
'But we have the data, sir. We needed to recover some old files by him. Can you please tell us where can we get it?'
He shook his head. 'I can't say anything'.
'Can you please let us in? It's urgent actually, to get the files.'
'Where the fuck had you been then, for all the time now?', the man yelled. 'I said right, we are the tenants - my family. I can't let you in without the landlord's permission'
'Fine then, let's call him', Father said. Musing for a while, the man asked for a minute and closed the door.
'I wonder if he's gonna call the police', I muttered to Father. 'Don't worry', he said to me.
He came out after a while and asked one of us to get in to talk with the landlord over the telephone. Father went in. I watched him as he got the receiver in hand and started talking to him. While he was busy talking, I noticed the man's small daughter peeking through the bedroom curtains while a woman snatched her back into the room. The man was standing by Father's side, cross-armed, and with a frown over his face. It was afternoon now and perhaps we had been a hinderance to him in some manner.
As he put down the receiver, Father called out to me to join in. 'Up, in the attic', he said as we walked past the man up to the stairs. Before we got there, I glanced back at him. He still looked gloomy and puzzled.