Even More Nasty Stories by Brian McNaughton

Author:Brian McNaughton [McNaughton, Brian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Horror
Publisher: Wildside
Published: 2010-12-18T08:00:00+00:00

* * *

A Donation to the Homeless

I was dashing for the convenience store when a homeless man stopped me. I wouldn't normally stop, but I knew him.

“You. You're...."

“And you're Bert Miller. You covered the case."

The case: that gave me a clue, but....

“Aldous Loudun,” he said. Loudun had been a fidgety geek. You could see him molesting kids, but not without his hornrimmed glasses and clip-on bowtie. With his prophet's hair and beard and butane eyes, he now looked capable even of the murders and witchcraft that were only rumored.

“You finally got out, huh?"

“You're never interested in covering that part of a story, are you?"

I thought I was used to press-bashing, but my face burned. He had a point. The case had made headlines for a couple years. When it unraveled on appeal, people paid less notice as each defendant was separately freed. His life had been stolen, and no two inches on an inside page could ever restore it.

“Look, maybe I could do a feature story on you—"

“Forget it. I'd settle for an umbrella."

“Sure, but it's freezing out here—"

“You're telling me?” He was wearing only jeans and a t-shirt, one of those heavy metal goat-and-pentagram things, probably meant as bitter irony.

“Come on, let's go in the store."

“The clerk won't let me in."

I could invite him into my car, but charity has limits. He was dirty. He probably had lice.

Before I could have second thoughts, I pulled off my coat. I had a heated car and a warm home to drive to. He had nothing at all, and maybe that was partly my fault.

“Your very own coat,” he said when he slipped it on, as if this especially pleased him. “A personal possession."

“If there's anything else,” I said, backing toward the store, “I'm still at the paper."

“Don't feel so bad, Bert,” he said. “Those kids were telling the truth."

When he laughed, I said, “You had me going there for a minute."

I slipped into the store fast, then drew a blank when I tried to remember what Jenny needed. Milk, that was always a safe bet with our little girls—

“You are buying something, my friend?"

The Indian clerk spoke again, even more sharply, before I realized he meant me. “Yeah, right. This is a store?"

“We do not need your kind in here. Buy what you want and go, if you have money."

My kind? I couldn't think of a single politically correct comeback, so I reached for my wallet to show him cash.

“Oh, shit,” I said, and dashed out to the parking lot.

Aldous Loudun was gone, of course, with my coat. With my wallet. But I should have been able to overtake him.

If I'd had a car.

I burst back into the store. “Call the police. I gave my coat to a bum and it had my car keys—"

“I don't need any police!” He shocked me by pulling a billy-club from under the counter and slamming it down hard. “You unwelcome persons should know by now that I can take care of myself."

What was wrong

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