Diamond in the Rough: Chapter 72

At Pleasant Fields, Todd helped Blair out of the back of the limousine, and told Williams to wait for them.  In his hand, he had the book of names from Mitch's Church, in case they needed to help jog a memory.  It was a beautiful development, with many trees, a lush pond, and many sitting areas.  He said, "If it were warmer, we could sit out here with the old guy."

"Are you nervous?"

"No.  Not nervous.  Just want it over with, Blair."

"I am nervous.  I'm not going to lie."

He stopped and looked at her.  "You've been through so much because of me.  You don't have to do this.  You can go back to the boys, and I'll meet you home later."

"Todd Manning.  If you think I'd leave you to face what this guy has to say?  Never.  And no, I've not been through so much because of you.  It's because of life.  Nothing in your control.  Just stop, it makes me . . . uncomfortable that you think I want out all the time."

His eyes burned a minute, "You should."

"Well, I don't."

He grabbed her waist and pulled her to him.  Kissing her gently, he said, "I'm glad."

She took his hand, and they went together to the entrance.  Signing in, they asked, once inside, to visit Salvatore Falco, or "Stick" as he was known in Mitch's day.  He was the henchman for Laurence during his heyday as a cult leader, and his name was in several places in the book.  Todd stood and remembered notes in Peter's own hand:  Asshole.  Listens to everything Laurence says.  Looked at me today, like I have some kind of plague.  Laurence treats him like royalty.  Need to talk to Bitsy about making eyes.

The director, a short, pudgy woman with dark-rimmed glasses, came toward them, and said, "Mr. Falco says he will see you.  It's not that he's happy you're here, mind you.  He just never gets a visitor."

Todd and Blair exchanged looks.  They followed the woman down two hallways, and in a third, made a turn to the left, where she stopped and showed them into his room with her hand.  She said, "Mr. Falco. Your visitors."

He was facing the window in his wheelchair, and at first, he made no effort to turn toward them.  Blair said, "Mr. Falco?"

He didn't respond to her.  

Todd said, "Uh, Mr. Falco, we need your help.  It's about my mother.  You may have known her."

He didn't answer.

Todd, getting angry, said, "Or should we call you 'Stick?'"

The man whipped around in his chair.  "Who the hell are you?  Who's your mother?"

Blair said, "We're the Mannings, Blair and . . ."

"Manning?"

"Yes," she was attempting to be cordial, and had her hand resting on Todd's forearm.

"Manning."  He squinted.  "Peter Manning?"

"I'm not Peter, no.  I'm his . . . adopted son.  I grew up with him."

"Poor sucker.  The guy was a bastard.  Sicko freak."

Blair saw Todd become gray, and looked for a chair.  Finding one, she pulled it up, and then went into the hall to ask for another.  Within a few minutes, Todd was seated across from the man, and a nurse's assistant brought in the other chair.  She sat.  The man could not take his eyes off Todd.  He said, "How do you know the name 'Stick?'"

"It was in a book Peter had."

"Peter.  Hmf.  I never met anyone like him, or Mitch Laurence."

The man seemed to have no difficulty at all remembering the two men.  Todd felt a quease in his stomach, and Blair said, "We know about Peter.  We're not here with fond memories of him."

Stick didn't move his eyes from Todd.  He said, "She your girl?"

Todd couldn't help but smile, "She's my wife."

"Married, huh?"

Todd nodded.

"Lucky.  She's a beaut."

"Thank you," Blair heard herself say.

Stick finally turned toward her.  "I don't mean to leave you out, but there's no way I can talk about a man like Peter Manning, or a man like Mitch Laurence and look into a beautiful woman's face to see her reaction."

Blair swallowed, and nodded.

Turning back to Todd, Stick said, "So, what did you come here for?  Information on your father?  On Mitch?  Or your mother?"

"I guess all three.  Whatever you're willing to give me."

"You won't be saying that when I'm done,"  he said.  "Where do you want me to start?"

"I don't know.  With you?  Maybe how you knew them?"

"Me.  Hmf."

"You seem like a reasonable guy."

"Reasonable.  Okay.  I'm in this chair because of Mitch Laurence.  I lost my wife because of him, and our child she was carrying.  Is that a good place to start?"

"If that's where you want to.  And I'm sorry.  We recently lost a child."  He thought back to the cemetery, the statue in rose quartz of future Sommer . . .

He softened.  "Well, I'm sorry, too, then."

"What happened?"  Todd asked.

"He shot me.  Through the back, while I was driving off to try and save my family.  Crippled me, killed them when the car went off the road.  This was after Peter Manning died.  She was young, my wife.  She was almost two decades younger than I am.  She would have been fifty this month, if she were alive."

"I see.  I'm very sorry about your loss."

"I couldn't ever prove it."

"Well, we might be able to help," Blair said, "because we're trying to connect Mitch Laurence to a string of crimes."

"I'd do just about anything to see him in the electric chair before I die."  Stick said.  Blair began to pity him.

Todd said, "She's right.  I just need to know the things you know, Mr. Falco.  If you're able to tell me."

"The question is not if I'm able.  The question is if you're able to hear it, Mr. Manning."


"I'm able."  Todd said, and the man took a drink from a plastic cup of water he was given.  He continued, "Whatever you have to say, I'm ready to hear."

"I worked for Laurence for a lot of years.  And now, all I can do is sit here and be haunted by the things I know.  If I had told, or spoken up, I feared I would have been arrested, too.  I chose to remain silent.  After I lost my family, I couldn't prove his involvement anymore.  Then, I spent many years in a mental hospital, a complete breakdown, drug addiction, you name it."

Blair was close enough to Todd to feel him shift in his chair, and knew he was thinking of Bitsy.  She said, "But you changed your mind?"

"About talking?  Not really, until today.  I sort of told myself, someday you will have the chance to speak.  Before, I was afraid, now, not so much.  Now the hauntings are worse, I think."

Todd said, "I can talk with a friend of mine, about you.  If you help us.  I'm sure of it."

"It doesn't matter anymore,"  he said, becoming a little distant.  Then, he said, "So, Mr. Manning, where do you want me to begin?"

"I . . . don't know.  Maybe with . . ." he stopped.  "Peter?"

"Peter Manning."  The man wiped his own brow.  "I am not sure you want to know the whole story, Mr. Manning."

"I know a lot of it, inside here, and I've lived the rest," he said, pointing to his chest.

"If you lived with that man, I can only imagine that I have to pity you."

"I don't like pity, but I know what you mean."

"Hmf.  A tad tough, are you?"

"No, not really."  His eyes went to Blair's.  She weakly smiled, and their hands connected.

Falco seemed to notice right away, and then said, "Peter Manning was a pure bastard.  Mitch knew it.  Mitch knew everything Peter was into."

"Into?"  Todd asked.

"Yeah.  Sadist.  Didn't care who he hurt or how.  Laurence knew . . . everything."

Todd swallowed, looking to the floor.  He could feel Blair's hand, but the rest of him almost felt numb.  He looked back up.  He nodded to the man to continue.

"Stories started circulating around the town, especially among the churchgoers.  Mitch made a special job of keeping things quiet.  He also accepted kickbacks for his silence about what Peter was doing to you, and to your mother."

"People . . .knew?"

"No one was really sure of anything except that he beat you.  Mitch knew though, knew it all.  He hinted at the truth of it to me and a few other close associates.  I felt sick every time he talked.  But I did nothing.  I should have," he looked out the window, "but he was paying good, and I was afraid what he might to do my wife, or me."  He got quiet.  Then he said, "He was a mean piece of work, Mitch.  I suppose you're thinking that I belong in this chair, for what I didn't do?"

Todd said nothing.  He felt Blair's fingers apply light pressure to his palm, and he said, "Go on."

"Then there was Bitsy.  She couldn't get away.  She was trapped, and that made you trapped, I suppose.  There was a time, you must have been about nine or ten, maybe, that Peter beat her so bad, starved and dehydrated her to the point of her almost death.  Mitch got a call from Peter, the bastard was frantic, and Mitch assured him, saying it would cost.  Laurence sent me to get her."  The man swallowed.   "I had to go in the house, and get her.  The rest you know, don't you?"

Todd closed his eyes, and coal-blackness moved into his vision in tendrils.  Blair was up, "Todd?"

He squeezed his eyes tighter, and remembered a passage to himself:  One truly is the protector of oneself; who else could the protector be?

"Todd, are you all right?"  Blair said, now standing beside him and putting her hands gently on his shoulders.  She said, "What is this?  What is he remembering?"  she turned her anger outward.

"I'm fine.  I'm . . . okay."  He opened his eyes, finally, and looked into her face.  "Really.  I'm fine, Blair."  It will not stop tormenting us . . .  He covered her hand with his.  Then, he turned back to the man and said, "I didn't.  But I think I do.  You're the one who came in the house and went to the basement. . ."

"You were standing there, watching me.  I went into that room Manning had so I could get her."  The man stopped, needing a break.  

Todd said, "Okay, I remember," but he said it in a way that made Blair know it was totally new to him.

"Anyway, my job was to take her out of there and bring her to the church house to recover.  Otherwise, they'd have to call the police or bring her to a public hospital.  I should have.  When I saw her, the way she . . . was, I should have.  But, I didn't.  Another haunting.  I brought her to the church house, and she was all but dead."

Blair suddenly blurt out, "You left that little boy in that house with that maniac?"

The old man's face was worn.  He said, "Yep.  And his face as I left with his mother haunted me every day.  I knew when I saw you today, Todd, that you were that little boy, even before you started talking.  Over time, Peter had to pay more money for Mitch to be quiet about Bitsy, and about you.  He did.  You were still there with Peter, until college, I thought.  There was that period when you were a teenager, reports that you tried to kill him?  I never doubted in my mind why."

"That's in the past," Todd heard himself say.  "What happened to Momma?"

Who else could the protector be?

"Mitch used drugs to keep her alive, pain free, and later pliable.  She became one of his followers.  Staunch.  She never went back to Peter."

"What about Charles?  She had a husband, Charles, right?  After Peter?  He had a cabin . . ."

Falco rubbed his forehead.  "No.  Charles wasn't real.  It was a ruse to quiet child services and you.  Make you think she had moved on with her life.  I drove her to that cabin to meet you.  She wanted to tell you the truth and take you with us.  Laurence said no.  She was on heavy drugs then.  It wasn't long after she'd recovered.  She cried all the way there and even worse back."  He wiped his brow again.  "When we got back to the church house, she went crazy.  Attacked Mitch, telling him she wanted to bring you there, and he didn't like it.  A few days later, she ended up beaten and brutalized, and truthfully, I never saw her again.  I heard all this, anyway, that maybe she was hospitalized somewhere."

He swallowed.  Without saying a word, Todd got up and walked out of the room, and Blair, watching his direction, said, "Excuse me," awkwardly, and hurried out.

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