Chapter 51: The Morning News

February 20, 1982, Chicago, Illinois

“Can I ask you something about last night?” Allyson inquired as we worked to make chicken Parmesan for our dinner.

“Sure. What?”

“You’re over a foot taller than Hannah. How did that work?”

I laughed, “Just fine. I think, though, any further answer needs to come from her. I have the distinct feeling she’ll answer if you ask her.”

“No, I’ll leave her with her privacy. I shouldn’t have asked you. You two did seem to hit it off really well.”

“We did.”

“Not to stir up controversy, but how does that affect things with Bianca?”

I shrugged, “Bianca and I are feeling our way forward and we’ll see what happens. We’ll keep seeing each other and take baby steps forward if that’s what we both want to do. I was serious last night about no more games.”

“I know. I’m sorry if you were uncomfortable.”

“I wasn’t, it’s just that I feel that Paula will do her utmost to find more and more extreme things to do, and invite other girls. It could really get out of hand. Heck, it may have been out of hand last night.”

“Because Paula was annoyed?”

“That and the heavy pressure she put on Julianne to screw with the rest of you in the room. That really made me question what we were doing. That’s why I put my foot down about the winner of the second game. I probably should have done that with Julianne, but she made the decision to go through with it.”

“I guess I didn’t think about peer pressure in a room full of girls who agreed to play the game.”

“I didn’t think about it until it happened,” I replied. “The key is we learned a lesson, and now we need to act accordingly.”

“What do you think happened with Paula?”

“I have no clue. I’m hoping she spent the night with that Phil guy, then they went out for lunch, or something, and planned to spend the afternoon together. Hopefully, she’ll show up later and it’ll have been all for nothing.”

“I hope so. Lucy is really worried, even if she’s not showing it. She’d never have gone to the police otherwise.”

“And you heard what Huifen said about the way they were handling the investigation,” I added.

We finished cooking, ate dinner, then cleaned up.

“Have you played any of the games that came with your computer?”

“No. I think they could end up sucking up all my free time if I did that.”

“Have you considered buying a VCR?”

“It’s on my list of things to get when I move into my new place. I’d rather not spend extra money right now. I’ll have a bit more disposable income once I’m promoted.”

“That’s a sure thing?”

“Unless I fuck it up, yes. I don’t intend to fuck it up.”

“How about fucking me?”

“That I intend to do!”

Allyson laughed and began removing her clothes. I did the same, and fifteen minutes later, she slid her extremely tight pussy down my erect shaft.

“Oh, yeah,” she moaned as she began grinding against me. “This is heaven.”

I couldn’t agree with her more.

February 21, 1982, Chicago, Illinois

My phone rang early on Sunday morning, startling me awake. I quickly disengaged from Allyson who had been sleeping with one arm and one leg thrown over me and her head on my chest. We’d worn ourselves out, fooling around until about 2:00am before falling asleep.

“Kane,” I answered, the same way I did at work.

“Jonathan, it’s Sylvia.”

“Sylvia? What’s up?”

“The police arrested Phil late last night.”

“Oh, shit!”

“We don’t know any more than that, but you can pretty much guess why.”

“What?” Allyson asked.

I held up one finger to ask her to wait.

“What ARE they saying?”

“Nothing. Lucy tried to get them to tell her, but they said they were still investigating.”

“OK. I’ll tell Allyson.”

“Thanks.”

We said ‘goodbye’ and hung up.

“Phil was arrested late last night, I said. “The cops aren’t saying why and won’t give Lucy any more information.”

“Oh, no!” Allyson gasped.

“It’s possible he was arrested for something else,” I replied.

“How likely is that?”

“I don’t know, but you hear about people being arrested on ‘outstanding warrants’ at traffic stops and stuff like that.”

“True. But that’s scary all by itself.”

“I agree. I think we should shower and have breakfast, but if you want to go back to Loyola, I understand.”

“I can’t really do anything there, and I absolutely need a shower!”

We had an enjoyable joint shower, then dried ourselves and dressed before making breakfast of scrambled eggs, sausage, and toast. When we finished eating, we washed the dishes, and then I refilled our coffee mugs.

“What do you want to do?” I asked.

“You need to do laundry, so you can’t really leave now if you wanted to come with me. I think at this point, I’ll stay. What time does the laundromat open?”

“Noon on Sundays; 6:00am every other day.”

“Yes, because we can’t possibly have people doing laundry when they should be in church!”

“Huh?” I asked.

“Blue laws.”

“What are those?”

“Laws which basically require businesses to close on Sunday, particularly Sunday mornings. Did you know car dealerships are prohibited from being open on Sundays in Illinois?”

“No. Isn’t that unconstitutional? I mean, if it’s for religious reasons.”

“Not according to the Supreme Court. I have a friend from Maine, and department stores are prohibited from opening on Sunday morning, and you can’t buy alcohol. She says that it’s illegal for most businesses to be open on Christmas and Easter.”

“And people wonder why I’m an atheist. What if the only day off I had was Sunday?”

“Then you’re fucked, and not in a good way!”

I laughed, “True.”

“You said you worked two or three jobs, right?”

“Yes. I mostly worked seven days a week from the time I was sixteen, and before that, I cut lawns, shoveled snow, and did other part-time jobs like helping the farmer behind us mend fences.”

“What did you want to do until noon?” Allyson asked.

“It’s almost 40°F; how about we take a walk?”

“Sure.”

We walked north to Greek Town, then towards the Loop, and finally circled back to the house. When we went inside, the message light on my answering machine was flashing.

I wrote down the number, then dialed it with more than a bit of trepidation.

“It’s Jonathan,” I said when Sylvia answered.

“Hi. Lucy found out why they arrested Phil. He’s wanted on a rape charge in Kentucky from three years ago.”

“What about Paula?”

“Nothing. The police aren’t saying anything else. Lucy only found out about the rape charge by asking a reporter who talked to the Desk Sergeant.”

“OK. We’re going to have lunch, then go to the laundromat. Call if you find out anything more.”

She promised to call, we said ‘goodbye’, and I hung up.

“Phil was arrested on an outstanding rape charge from Kentucky from three years ago.”

“Oh my God!” Allyson gasped. “He raped and killed her!”

She rushed over to me and I took her in my arms.

“We don’t know that,” I replied, though I didn’t disagree with her assessment.

I held Allyson for a few minutes before she stepped back. Her eyes were glassy, but she wasn’t crying.

“Let’s go do your laundry, have lunch, and then I’ll head back to Loyola.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“Yes, but I’m pretty sure they’ll enforce the overnight guest rules with Paula missing. I’ll be OK.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I am.”

We went to the laundromat, then came back to the apartment to have ham sandwiches and chips, then I walked Allyson to the L. We hugged and kissed, and she promised to call me with any updates. Once she walked onto the platform, I headed back to my apartment to update my portfolio, read, and then have dinner. I didn’t hear from Allyson before bedtime, and I wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or a bad sign. I assumed the worst, but hoped for the best.

February 22, 1982, Chicago, Illinois

On Monday Morning the Chicago Tribune told me everything I needed to know, and what we had feared. An as-yet-unidentified female about twenty years old had been found raped and strangled in a car parked in a parking garage in the Loop. There was no doubt in my mind that it was Paula, and I wasn’t quite sure what to do. I decided, in the end, that despite it being early, I’d call Allyson.

I wasn’t too surprised to find out that she was awake and was aware of the news.

“I thought about calling you after the story ran on the late news, but I didn’t want to wake you.”

“I wouldn’t have been upset. Are you OK?”

“I guess.”

“Let me ask a different way — is there anything I can do for you?”

“Not right now. Kristy drove in and spent the night last night, and she’s staying with me.”

“Good. If you think of anything, call me. It’s OK for you to call me at work. I’ll have to keep it short, but given the circumstances, nobody will be upset if I have a brief personal call. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll call you after work, before I go to class. I’d skip, but I really can’t.”

“It’s OK. Just call, OK?”

“Sure. How is Lucy?”

“Distraught. Hannah and Julianne aren’t much better.”

“I wish there was more I could do right now.”

“It’s OK, Jonathan. I know you need to work. I have to go to class, too. Call if you need anything, otherwise, I’ll be at Loyola around 6:00pm.”

“See you then.”

We said ‘goodbye’ and I hung up. I finished getting ready for work, decided it was probably too cold for my bike, and headed for the L. As the train clicked, clacked, and sparked its way into the Loop, I wondered if different behavior on my part could have prevented what I assumed had happened.

There was no question random rolls of the die and the blind drawing of cards from a deck had in many ways dictated the outcome, but that didn’t change the feeling that my behavior had affected the outcome. The chain of events had been unpredictable, but even understanding that none of us knew what the consequences of our actions over the past month would be didn’t alleviate that twinge of guilt.

If I was inclined to do so, I could trace the source back to the randomness of my conception because a good-looking guy had flirted with my mom at a baseball game when she was sixteen, and then had died in a plane crash without even knowing he had fathered a son. The complete randomness of events, to me, was strong evidence for my belief in how the universe operated — uncontrolled by anything other than the forces of nature from chemistry to gravity to what was called ‘quantum mechanics’, something of which I was aware, but about which I knew basically nothing. The same random interactions that had led to my birth had, apparently, led to Paula’s death.

Death was an odd concept, in that I believed there was no ‘after’. What was it like to cease to exist? Could I even be aware that I had ceased to exist? If I could, that meant some part of my consciousness lived on, and THAT had implications I really didn’t want to consider. I was convinced, insofar as it was possible, that death was the equivalent of a lightbulb filament burning out. Once it was broken, no amount of switch flipping or application of electricity could resurrect it.

As the L lurched to a halt at my stop, I shook my head at the fact that the word ‘resurrect’ had formed in my mind in that I was also convinced that resurrection, at least as Lily, Rachel and others professed to believe, was not possible. I also had a hard time believing that reincarnation could be true, in that I certainly didn’t remember any past lives, and if I didn’t remember them, then reincarnation was, in effect, no different from my belief that there was no ‘after’ once you died.

I exited the train, left the platform, went up the stairs, and walked quickly toward the Hancock Building, my overnight bag slung over my shoulder, and my baseball cap pulled down against the wind. I reached the warmth of the lobby, took off my cap, and unzipped my coat, then walked around to the freight elevator. I rode up to the 30th floor, went to the break room, put my coat and cap in a locker, put on my jacket and name tag, and went to the mailroom to clock in.

“Morning,” Nick said when I walked in.

“Morning,” I replied.

“What’s got you down?” Nick asked. “Usually you’re cheery.”

“Did you read or hear about the girl who was raped and murdered?”

“The one left in the car in the garage on Illinois?”

“Yes. They haven’t released the details yet, but I’m pretty sure I know her, and saw her on Friday night. I was at Loyola on Saturday when she was reported missing and talked to a detective who was investigating. They arrested a guy she met at a party, so I’m pretty sure it was her.”

“Holy shit, man!”

“Yeah. I know a few girls who are friends with her, and they’re pretty broken up. We’re all sure it’s her.”

“Illinois has the death penalty and rape makes the murder aggravated. He could get the chair.”

“He’s wanted on a rape charge in Kentucky from three years ago, too.”

“Then they should string him up by his gonads with piano wire and let the other victim beat him like a piñata!”

“Ouch,” I replied with a grimace.

“Rape is vile.”

“I agree.”

“So I guess that ruined your weekend.”

“Pretty much,” I replied, though Friday evening and Friday night had been pretty good.

“Morning,” Bob called out as he came in with about thirty seconds to spare to clock in.

Nick and I both greeted him, then the three of us got to work. The morning went along as usual, and at lunch, I used a payphone in the lobby to call Allyson for an update, but there was no answer in her room. She didn’t have an answering machine, so I couldn’t leave a message. I hung up and headed back up to the mailroom.

The afternoon was busy, but not too busy, and at 5:00pm I clocked out and hung my jacket and badge in my locker. I retrieved my bag, put on my coat, grabbed my cap, and headed for the freight elevator. Once I was on the ground floor, I headed for the L. When I arrived home, I started making a quick meal, and called Allyson’s room.

“Any news?” I asked when she answered.

“They confirmed it was Paula. Supposedly, Phil denied everything. He said he and Paula did have sex, but then she left his place to come back to Loyola. Nobody here believes him.”

“Given the arrest warrant from Kentucky, nobody should!”

“Who’s car was she in?”

“Hers.”

“I wasn’t aware she had a car. Did she take it to the party?”

“Yes. She and Lucy drove, but Lucy came back with Joe in his car.”

“Nobody mentioned that to me on Saturday.”

“Lucy told the cops. The others knew on Saturday night, but I was with you, so I didn’t find out until I came back to the dorm last night.”

“How are you and the other girls doing?”

“We’re all pretty numb, I guess. Lucy had to move to a new room, because the police don’t want anyone touching any of Paula’s stuff.”

“That makes sense. Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Not really. Call me when you get back from class, OK?”

“I will.”

We said ‘goodbye’ and I hung up, then finished making my pork chops and green beans. I ate quickly, then put on my hat and coat and headed to Circle. When I sat down next to Violet, she put a piece of Big Red on my writing board. I thanked her, unwrapped the gum, and put it in my mouth.

“My appointment is at 7:00pm tomorrow,” she said. “Will you be there?”

“I said I would,” I replied with a smile. “So I will.”

“Thank you.”

Before the lecture began, we received our graded exams, and both Violet and I had A’s. As usual, after the lecture, we went to the coffee shop to do our homework, and then I walked Violet home. When I returned to my apartment, I called Allyson to make sure she was doing OK, and to check if there was anything I could do for any of the girls. She thanked me, but said ‘no’ and after a brief conversation, we said ‘goodbye’ and I hung up.

I spent an hour working on my portfolio, then hit the sack.

February 23, 1982, Chicago, Illinois

Tuesday’s Tribune had more details about the investigation into Paula’s death. The police were confident they had the right suspect in custody, and I and the girls agreed. According to the reporter, the defense attorney for Philip Gallagher, Brandon Littleton, vehemently protested his client’s innocence. Bond had been denied, which didn’t surprise me, given the accusations were capital murder and rape.

After work, I ate a quick dinner, called Allyson to check on her, then left the apartment so I could walk to Doctor Kelly Lochner’s office. I was ten minutes early, and when I walked into the office, there was no one sitting at the reception desk. The door marked ‘Private’ was closed, and I didn’t see Violet, so I sat down in one of the chairs to wait.

“Hi, Jonathan,” Violet said, coming in through the door to the street.

“Hi. Nobody was here.”

“That’s normal for evening appointments. Doctor Lochner will be out in a moment.”

“How long have you been seeing her?”

“About a year. I was seeing a psychiatrist before, but I no longer need medication.”