The police would be interrupting their isolation within a few days. They called, with news of the first body Evan helped uncover.
At least fifty years old and a very big man. It was not Yousep buried behind the shop, but the man had been buried likely in the late teens, or early twenties, over seventy years ago. It was good, and very terrible news. Four murders had been committed, the family currently believed there were only three victims - and one of them might have been a runaway, simply frightened off. Whatever Evan helped uncover, it was not remotely the story the Reismans needed explained.
The results of the investigations into the three mummified bodies would take another week, but they knew the youths to be one boy, and two girls, from X-rays taken. No one in the clan wanted to think it was Yousep and Caraliza, buried across the street above that hole, but it would have helped them find a resting place for the two. They needed that now. The Reismans needed to bury their dead.
The emotions in the family were raw and constantly upset. Some were condemning the work Shelly had done; it brought all the horror to light. Some defended her, but sadly, very few appreciated Evan’s role in the events. Had he been but a dumb boyfriend, Shelly would have opened a wonderfully haunted... something. None enjoyed the constant humiliation, in newsprint, of the family name; finally now associated with corpses, no longer just with rumor. And, to their chagrin, the young man who made it all possible, was a rival clan favorite son - Evan Bryant, who happened to have his skull bashed one day by the weird Reisman girl, whom the papers seemed to love misnaming as ‘Kelly’.
Sareta had nearly enough of, what she was now famous for expressing at nearly every breath - shit.
Shelly sat in her bedroom with Evan in her lap for days on end, and they would do little more than play with one another’s hair. She painted his nails once and he almost did not notice. They even ignored the new chest Papa also made, but hid. The Bryants were fuming, but he would not listen. Shelly spent her high school years sleeping in that bed, and sometimes sneaking boyfriends into the room. She held Evan every night there, but did not notice they were being perfect angels. Naked as cherubs, but they were Ken and Barbie for the entire time. The Reisman-Bryant duo was in shock, and did not think once to be naughty. More than spirits were broken in the clan. Hearts and egos were in shreds all over town. Love and desire were pushed aside by grief, and disbelief. It had all been so gruesomely true. Two children died in the Reisman Portraits in 1919. They were now in a police lab, on a table.
Within days, the police were sharing more macabre information, about the shocking discoveries above the basement well. The old case files were fairly descriptive of the youth Benny, who had been missing since just before the loss of Yousep and Caraliza; they were certain Benny was removed from the crypt above the well. A broken arm, missing front teeth, were listed as identifying features, and found on the lad. Poor Benny ended up lost in time, and still no last name anyone could determine. He was just a youth on the street, in the slums, who never came back to sit with his fellows on the stoop above the stair. The two girls were being studied still, to find any clue to their identities, but there were no missing person reports to use in the investigations. Benny found friends in his terrible rest above the well, but unlike him, they were never missed.
Evan could not imagine such a life, to have no value enough to concern a soul when they left the world. At least Benny could be buried with his name. Who were the girls? If Caraliza were one of the two, then which? Yousep? What of the poor lad, who discovered all the horror before his eyes, and tried to bring his love out of it - because he could do no less and still live? Where were they now?
The family may have fought and argued about the handling of the building they shared, but they all felt compassion, which still had no task to perform, for the dead they felt they loved, and knew, as their very own. Shelly, who carried more of those spirits within her heart than any other Reisman in the city, remained strained to the point of breaking; Yousep and Caraliza could not be found.
Evan knew, and Sareta knew, because she told him, the spirit at the top of the stair was not Menashe Reisman. Evan was certain in his heart; it could only be the beast that made the three murders. But weren’t there now five? Evan lost count. The police were about to help establish the correct number for him.
They called, asking for his help. The sad day of the discovery, they forgot to ask him if the Reisman family kept any photographs of the two children, which could be used to help identify them in the remains. When police finally called asking the question, he seemed to have caused them a great deal of relief, they should have started with those pictures, but lost time for want of them. They asked him if he could scan them to computer files, and bring them to the labs to let them judge if the images helped.
He spent the entire afternoon there, because he was fascinated with the process they used. Within moments of receiving the photos, police measured the bricks behind the angel, and the spade handle in Yousep’s hands, and made measurements all over the bodies of the two. He noticed as the photo technician worked over the image of Caraliza, the man’s mood changed, and his emotions became evident. At one point, he performed the same simple command Evan used before; he zoomed the photo into a very tiny area, and made it large as the computer screen would make it. His reaction at the clarity of the image was greater than Evan’s had been, he just wept and stopped his work.
The existence of two excellent photographs had the affect of opening a doorway into the mystery for the investigators. Before Evan left late that afternoon, they confirmed; Benny was not accidentally Benny - he was indeed not Yousep, and the two girls must have been younger than Caraliza, they were neither one as tall. Yousep and Caraliza were not found. Evan no longer believed they would be.
Why then were the three bodies not thrown into the well pit, but kept? The police wondered as well.
In 1919, it was uncommon to block the sump wells with bars; walls should have prevented any entry. But this particular hole
had
bars in its throat, and they were just underneath the bend that made the entire hole invisible from above. Any dumped body would have just remained near the flue hole. It may have been found out by grisly accident, disposal may have been improvised after the bodies refused to float to the river.
Evan revised his knowledge of the tragedy, and came away from the department labs realizing, if all the dead could be found, and named, there would be six. They knew who tortured Caraliza now, and who menaced the two lovers as they sought escape. They knew the beast murdered at least three times before. But who killed and buried the large man in the garden? Was the man in the garden the horrid creature who lived under the stoop? ‘For all we have learned,’ Evan thought as he drove home to see Shelly, ‘we still know nothing about putting the dead to rest.’ How could they possibly understand the means to do that? Evan wondered if the answer was hidden inside the second chest.
“
Grandma, I’ve served my time, I need to get back to work,” Shelly said into the phone at breakfast a few days later. Evan had eaten and gone home, to take care of his bills, and laundry, but would be returning for lunch.
For a few days now, the two were quietly talking, very late at night; the renovation was stalled and needed to stop stalling. Shelly talked to her contractor only once, he had the basement nearly in place, Sareta saw to his needs. He was actually thankful he’d not been forced to deal with Shelly; her wallet never felt the expense, so nothing ever motivated her to cooperate with him. He worked well for Sareta, and was handsomely paid for it. He was quite happy for Shelly to come play at her building again; he would be forever gone and free of her.
Sareta felt Shelly behaved well enough in her isolation, and with Evan constantly at her elbow for weeks now, she settled down to become a proper grandchild. Shelly was seething to get back to the building and became a superb actress to avoid more punishment. Evan was sweet, but they were playing at being a couple in her parent’s home. In truth, they were ready for some romp, and it just did not fit well into the surroundings. He only saw her naked in the bedroom after the house went to sleep, and she never interrupted any meals with some other distractions. They were bored, and ghosts were waiting. The only positive outcome of the isolation Shelly could find…Evan was back to himself, and seemed restored physically, his brow might be tender, but it did not ache anymore. She even tested it.
They were free to leave and resume their lives as they wished. Sareta waited until no more news stories were appearing. She waited until the basement was in place and the equipment ready for installation. She knew Shelly was needed for the rest of the work, and she waved away the chains that bound the couple to her parents’ stifling home. Shelly was going to celebrate by working the next day in the shop entirely naked, and invited Evan to participate, because he stayed at her side for nearly a month, and she had missed him the whole time.
The Reisman Portraits missed them as well. There were changes inside the haunted place. A spirit awoke, which had been tired and silent until the silk covered image plates were discovered and removed.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“
Better the dirt for this one. I will have him returned to it without a stone, if I have my say. Some people live, with no more soul in them than the street has beneath our feet. Such a person was the one who lived in that hellish basement, and kept Caraliza prisoner,” Sareta said to Evan. “He was never human, from his first breath. He was not a dumb animal either; even they have tenderness of a sort for their young. This one, who also died, deserved the death he got. A prison would have been a better home than the one of his own choosing and a prison would be still too good for the likes of him.”
Evan drove her to the police department to see if the remains had been disposed and if the city would let the family have the man buried. Evan knew the brute’s name, from the original investigation, when Benny missed his place with his fellows on the stoop. Evan never spoke the name to anyone, and hoped Sareta did not care to have it spoken to her. A person without a soul should not have a name, but, Evan wondered, would he refuse his rest without his name? What prayers could be said for one who could not be named?
Prayers for the unnamed?
“
Sareta, the second box, it contains photographic plates, and they are silk wrapped with notes tied to them. Hebrew notes. Are they prayers?” Evan said to her as they left the police department.
“
You have seen these?”
“
Yes, there are about a dozen, most of them seem broken, but there are a few that may be undamaged. That is all the chest contains, and they all have folded notes with Hebrew writing on them, tied with silk.”
“
Is Shelly at the shop? Is the chest there?”
“
Yes. We took it there last night before we went home.”
“
We must see this together. Can we go now?”
Sareta displayed an excitement Evan was pleased to see, but he was only mildly curious as he held the silk wrapped plates, they carried no feeling about them, or hinted to him they could be part of the family secret. Perhaps he was just not listening to his own heart as he touched them on the curb, next to the officer who pulled them from under the great window. That officer was deeply troubled by her experience in the dusty place. Something Evan did not feel, might cling to that chest still. Perhaps they did not compel him, but they excited Sareta. She wanted to hurry.
“
Kaddish Yatom
,” she said to him. “Hebrew prayers for the dead, Mourners’
Kaddish
. We must see these. They may be very important to us. Has Shelly seen them?” Evan shook his head, no.
Shelly was immediately suspicious her grandmother was walking into the studio with Evan in tow. There were new kitchen items being installed in the new space, and Shelly did not want them seen yet. She was relieved they came into the back, and Sareta was not the least interested to rummage around in the renovation. She sat down and asked Evan to bring the second chest. Shelly stopped everything she had been doing.
Evan had not discussed the second chest with her at all. She assumed it was quite ordinary and not like the one the family had passed around, but forgotten in the attic room for years. The thought Evan made secrets from her now, made him a tad more interesting. Perhaps some secrets could be tortured from his lips, and it would be fun to try!
The boxes were nearly identical, but for the dust deeper into the cracks in the woodcarvings on this latest one found. Evan had already been inside, but never told Shelly. It was discovered on that awful day, she remembered, but he only told her the barest of facts, there were things hidden under the great window, people hidden in the brick walls across the street. He never went into detail, and here was a tantalizing detail, completely forgotten!
She wondered what it might contain, that he would not really have a lasting interest in opening it again. He lifted the lid, and she reacted the same as Sareta, it was terribly important to the family history. Her grandmother breathed a prayer, before she even touched the box. Sareta suspected it contained prayer notes, and she instantly knew why. They were photographs of the dead.