The Rochester Confessions Page 3
Achooka was in deep trance when suddenly he heard the wind blowing in his ears. It was always the wind that gave the message. All was not well. The wind coming from the harbor had a dirty smell to it. It was the smell of the Devil; the signs were ominous.
Achooka lived about 30 miles away from the town in a dense forest in one of the hills between the town and the great lake. Though he bought most of his daily need items from the store in the village, he stayed in an old shanty in the deep woods, overlooking the ocean on one side and the town on the other. He observed a change in the mood of the people. He tried to sniff the wind to see if the change was for good or not. The wind caused great doubts in his mind. He was eagerly waiting for the night to descend on the town, as his arts were best practiced at night.
As the twilight faded into darkness, Achooka sat looking at the ferry from his hilltop shanty. He was staring deep into the stars and the clouds and suddenly he stiffened. The voice was loud and clear, and it was very angry. It had its abode in the ship and it wanted revenge. The signs were sinister. He had to do something about it before someone got hurt.
Nick had just reached his office when he saw the old Red Indian witch doctor sitting outside his office apparently waiting for him. Everybody in town knew Achooka and tolerated him as a relic and he meant no harm. But Nick had never actually met him and was a bit puzzled as to what could have brought him here.
“Hi! Good morning, old fella. Anything I can help you with?” Nick greeted him.
“Don’t find anything good with the morning. May I come in? Something I would like to inform you about, can sure save a lot of trouble for the town if you listen,” replied Achooka, somberly.
Nick pointed to a chair and said, “Sit down.”
Instead, Achooka sat on the floor and told him that he had sensed something evil in the ferry. He had waited for the night to confirm his suspicion. He was now sure that the ferry was haunted by a very powerful spirit and it would not be safe for anyone to travel on the ferry till the spirit left or was exorcised by a medium.
Nick heard him out patiently and then said, “Look Achooka, I appreciate your concern but we have full internal security with surveillance cameras and armed licensed guards. The ferry has been designed keeping in mind the latest safety measures. Please don’t worry about passenger safety.”
Achooka was not surprised. He looked at Nick and said, “I know what I said sounds unbelievable to you. Okay, the old lady at the store, Mrs. McKenzie, knows where I live. When you are ready to listen, ask her and she will bring you to me.”Saying so, Achooka got up and left the Mayor’s office. Nick chuckled and shook his head in disbelief.
Nick Carter, Father Paul and all other senior members were invited to an escorted tour of the boat the next morning by Jack Gardiner, who had come in person to hand over the possession of the boat. As the Father got down from his car and approached the ferry, he saw the ferry’s name painted in yellow and red. It was the same name as that of the boat he had borrowed from his friend that fateful night- The Tempest.
Father Paul had become a deeply spiritual man. He had studied the Bible passionately, with a conviction that this was really a book written by God. He wanted to impart the knowledge and wisdom of the Bible to the entire mankind. Also, the church had given him so much in life that his faith in God had multiplied manifold. He strongly felt that He who had taken from him had given back more to him. He had given him a home and a family by way of friends and people who liked and adored him. Father Paul too loved them all. His heart was pure and his soul innocent. He was a simpleton at heart. He felt a deep calm and peace whenever he was in the church as if he was with the God himself.
But that day, as soon as he stepped into the ferry, his peace was disturbed. He became very uncomfortable. The air felt heavy and he had difficulty breathing. Although it was winter, he broke into a cold sweat. It was as if something was trying to torment and torture him. Strange images started flashing in his mind. He felt exhausted. He told Nick that he was not feeling well.
Nick thought that maybe he had flu or viral fever. So, Nick finished the tour quickly and dropped Father Paul at the church.
Father Paul felt quite ill. He had a glass of water and a bowl of fresh vegetable soup. He then retired into his chamber. He dozed off as soon as his head hit the bed.
The dreams came back that day. The dreams that had tormented his soul for a long time, dreams of his beautiful Jade, the farm, and the village, dreams of his handsome horse Stan coming up to him and nuzzling his nose against his chest. And then, the somber face of Sandy, with a crooked smile, and then blood all over. Only this time, the face seemed more real and more menacing. And the smile was more meaningful. Outstretched hands, reaching for his throat.
He woke up with a start. Father Paul couldn’t sleep for a long time after that.
Chapter 6
Ms Stacy had always lived all alone in the big house on St Vincent Street adjoining the church. She was a 60-year-old fragile lady, who had spent most of her life in the small flower shop she ran. As it was close to the church, it was convenient for people to buy flowers from her shop. She understood flowers in a way very few people did. She was passionately in love with them. People often saw her sitting late in the shop nurturing her flowers like babies.
That is why she had the best flowers in all colours and hues. Her flowers lasted a long time and always bloomed to their fullest glory.
Like many townsfolk, she too had booked her berth on the ferry to Toronto. She had a sister in Toronto and they usually met once a year. Ms Stacy planned to stay with her sister for two weeks.
Ms Stacy liked Father Paul a lot. Many times, whenever she felt lonely, she went to the church to have a conversation with the Father. The Father’s warmth and understanding always had a calming influence on her. She would often think of sharing her deep dark secret with him. The only person who knew the secret, besides herself, was long dead. She wanted to atone and the only way she could think of was to make a confession. The thought had been in her mind for a long time now and every time she met Father Paul it grew stronger and stronger.
It was a lazy Sunday mass in March. As the townsfolk came out of the church after the prayers, Ms. Stacy kept sitting, all alone, not moving from her bench, till the entire prayer hall was empty. Father Paul was in his chamber going through some files, when there was a soft knock on the door. He got up to open the door. He saw the frail frame of Ms. Stacy standing awkwardly at the doorway. She appeared to be in a dilemma, wondering whether to say something or not.
Father Paul could read the symptoms clearly. He had seen many people who somehow gathered the courage to come up to him for a confession. But at the last moment, they backed out. He felt it was his duty to provide them extra support and encourage them to open up. They would be opening up to God himself and he was His humble servant. He said, “Good afternoon, Ms Stacy. Hope you are fine. Come right in, my dear. Anything I can help you with?”
“Father, I have been thinking of this for a long time and it has not been easy for me. Finally, I have decided that I need to make a confession,” Ms Stacy said, meekly.
“Now, now, I suggest you do not rush into this. If you really feel it is going to help you in relieving your worries, enlightening your soul, and cleansing your spirit of any sin committed in circumstances beyond your control, then alone should you confess. But while confessing, you have to do it with all your heart and mind, placing trust in the judgment of the Almighty, who has bestowed upon me, most humbly, the task of listening to such confessions, blessing you, and praying for you in your difficult times,” said Father Paul.
“I am prepared, Father. I know I am ready. I want to confess to a horrible crime,” she replied with conviction.
Father Paul guided her out of the room to the main block of the church, which housed the confession chamber. He could feel the pain and effort involved in the frail old lady to take a decision to confess. He applauded her silently in his thoughts.
Outer cabin 31 was painted yellow and red. It overlooked the water. Ms Stacy had booked this cabin for her journey. As she hurriedly checked in, she felt a cold breeze rush past her exposed shin and lower limbs below her dress. Although the cabin was well-equipped with a small bed, a wall closet, a luggage rack, a small table and a chair, and a small toilet-cum-bathroom, it felt stuffy and smelly. The smell was really strange, like that of rotten skin. Ms Stacy went to the far window and opened it. She immediately felt better as fresh sea air rushed into the room. The far side had a window and a door leading to the outer balcony, which had railings and a small sitting area with a round table and two chairs. As she looked out of the window, she felt some movement behind her. She also heard a shuffling noise. The door shut behind her with a loud bang, startling her badly.
The ferry sailed out of the harbour as scheduled. Gradually, the passengers settled down. There was the usual drill on the deck to explain the emergency procedures. This was followed by breakfast in the big dining room on the main deck. Most people knew each other. The atmosphere became relaxed and informal with the simple country folks making themselves comfortable in the lavishness of the boat, which offered many recreational and leisure facilities. Many sauntered to the upper deck and lazed around on the long beach chairs, soaking in the sun.
The day passed slowly as the ferry went across the lake with her powerful engines pushing it at a comfortable pace through the morbid waters.
The ferry also had a small theatre. The itinerary included a small play conducted by a group from NYC. Most passengers visited the theatre after dinner to enjoy the show, before retiring to bed.
Ms Stacy was feeling very tired and decided to retire to bed immediately after dinner. She slowly treaded her way up to her cabin and closed the door behind her. Again the same stench hit her but she was too tired to call room service and thought it best to leave a note at the reception in the morning. She changed quickly and retired for the night on the neatly-made bed in the comfort of new linen sheets.
Ms Stacy got up with a start. It was as if someone was tugging at her dress and trying to wake her up. Her hand went to the light switch and she flicked it on, but there was no light in the room. She turned it on again, again nothing. As she started to get up, she felt her dress being pulled down, as if it was stuck somewhere. She tried to untangle it from the sheets but it only got more and more entangled. As she finally managed to free herself, she again felt a drought of cold air up her naked legs. She froze in fear. She was not alone in the room. She could feel the presence of someone else. She panicked and rushed to the door but the latch was stuck. She ran to the balcony door and into the balcony.
As she leaned over to see if the cabin next door had any occupant, she felt a strong shove. And before she could grab something, she toppled behind and hit the water below with aloud splash. She tried to shout but no sound came from her mouth. It was as if she was gagged and her hands were tied. She could not separate her hands. It was then that she saw the frail form of her long dead sister floating beside her, pulling her down. Then the darkness engulfed her. She was sucked deep below the freezing waters, never to resurface.
The cabin attendant was puzzled. The door to cabin 31 was jammed. Despite all his efforts, he couldn’t open it. What puzzled him more was that despite repeatedly ringing the doorbell, the passenger had not woken up or conveyed any reaction. He finally rang the bell of the adjoining room. Immediately, the door was opened by a young man. The attendant requested him permission to go to the adjoining room through his balcony. The man consented.
As the attendant jumped onto the balcony of room 31 from the adjoining room, he was surprised to see the door leading to the room ajar. He rushed in and found it empty. He tried the door from inside and it opened easily. Although a bit puzzled, he thought he would look up the passenger list and talk to the occupant, as it was against regulations to keep the balcony door open. This had been emphasized during the safety drill.
Ms Stacy was missing. The crew and the staff of the ferry were all puzzled. They had searched the entire ship many times and had found no trace of the frail old woman. As the ferry dropped anchor in Toronto, there was an announcement for all passengers to assemble on the deck. The captain was standing on the deck with all the deck hands and crew. He had a serious expression on his face. As the last of the passengers arrived on the deck, the deck marshal signaled everyone to be quiet. The captain started to speak.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I know that all of you are concerned about our missing passenger Ms Stacy. I am sorry to say that we have not been able to find her anywhere on the boat. So, we assume that she jumped into the waters on purpose. It also appears that she didn’t shout when she fell. It would have surely been noted by the watchman on duty had she shouted and we would have fished her out.”
“We have already informed the Canadian and US coast guards and they will be scouring the seas for any trace of her. Meanwhile, as unfortunate as the incident has been, I hope all of you have a pleasant stay in Toronto and give us the pleasure of your fine company again soon. In case any of you come to know anything about Ms. Stacy, please do inform the ferry management. We will be most thankful. We assure you that we will do our very best to trace her and we also hope that nothing untoward has happened to her.”
With this, he dismissed the gathering.
Chapter 7
Steven Quinn had just got up from his bed and was preparing coffee, when his phone rang. He picked it up quickly and barked. “Quinn here.”
“Good morning, chief.” He recognised the voice of fellow reporter Steve on the other end of the line. “Got a flash from Toronto on the fast ferry service from Rochester. It seems there was a passenger missing on the incoming voyage yesterday. The ferry management is trying to keep it all hush-hush obviously, they cannot afford the bad publicity. But my contact talked to the passenger who was staying in the room next to the one from where the lady in question disappeared.”
Quinn could immediately sense a story. “Who runs the service? Got any numbers or names?”
Quinn knew Steve too well by now. He knew that Steve would have explored the story before bothering him with the information. That was the hallmark of a good reporter – to do enough ground work so that the interest of the seniors was kindled.
“Seems like the municipality itself is handling the service and has a separate committee for daily chores. And the Mayor is the committee chairman. The name is Nick. I got the number also, right here. I dug it out from the local directory.” Steve had done his homework well.
“Okay, good. Send it to me. I will call him at noon and see what he says. Also, I’ll take about 20 minutes. Will pick you at 9 from your place. Let’s go check this ferry.”
The day had not started well for Nick. The news of the accident reached him early morning. As fate would have it, he happened to see Achooka talking to Ms McKenzie at the store on his way to the office. Something was nagging him at the back of his mind. It was as if a heavy load had been tied to his neck and it was pulling him down. The ferry was his last hope. He had put in all efforts to make it a success. This one incident could spoil the party. As he stumbled into his office, he saw the note from his secretary. She had conveyed her inability to come to office that day. He cursed silently and settled down at his big desk to look through the various files and papers, which he had to look into as part of his duty as the city Mayor.
He was deeply engrossed in one of the files, when he was startled by the deep voice of Achooka. “I had warned you, maybe you will listen to me now. This is the beginning. He will not spare anyone.” Achooka was standing at the door and speaking to him. Nick was in a bad mood an
d his head was throbbing.
“Please keep your mumbo-jumbo to yourself. It was a plain case of suicide. The police will investigate and will come up with the facts.” Nick shouted back at him.
“I saw it coming. I see more misery and pain, more death and blood. Let me go to the ship and talk to the evil spirit,” said Achooka.
“I cannot allow that. I have enough troubles to handle already. I don’t want to be made a laughingstock in front of the people. Achooka, if you want to help, stop talking about the spirits. The people have enough on their minds already,” said Nick.
It was then that the phone started to ring.
He grabbed the phone and said, “Nick here, may I help you?”
“Hi, Mayor. I am Quinn from the Morning Herald, calling from Toronto. I wanted to talk to you regarding the accident on the ferry. Can you spare some time? I would like to discuss in some detail.”A deep menacing voice spoke from the other end.
Nick froze. He knew these sharks too well. They could smell blood from a thousand miles and then they come after it with vengeance. He also knew too well that they couldn’t be shaken off easily once they were on your trail.
“Sure, anytime. I am available in office 9 to 5.30, and, now, if you can excuse me, I have a gentleman to attend to here.” Saying so, Nick slammed down the receiver. Achooka had already left.
Nick got engrossed in the files again. As time passed, he became more relaxed, and then he had an idea. He picked up the phone and dialed Father Paul’s number.
“Hello Paul, long time since we sat together. Can I come over in the evening if you are free? I just wanted to catch up on a few things over drinks.”
“Okay, let’s make it at around 6 p.m.,” Father Paul confirmed.