The Banshee by Henry P. Gravelle Page B

ridiculous and he would rather just have the Chief laughing at him.
    â€œSuit yourself,” answered Keith, not looking as David closed the door quietly behind him.
    David was nervous driving toward the cemetery. He kept repeating the scenario over in his mind, the strange explanation he was going to use for the murders caused by a three hundred year old witch.
    He hoped the Chief would at least allow him to finish before ordering him to go home and sleep it off. If his theory were true, he would feel terrible if more deaths happened and he had not said anything, no matter how it made him look.
    He turned onto a short paved driveway leading to the parking area next to the white church. The lot was full to capacity with vehicles. The horrible death of a young child brought out the town to say goodbye. The service was nearing an end as David parked alongside the church.
    He walked past the rectory and an area where old headstones, chipped and cracked, some tipped or split in half were contained; an ancient burial ground of citizens past. A large stone near the rear had the impression of a crucifix etched into it, and the faint inscription denoting the resting place of Deacon Jonathan O’Connell.
    Cathy Collins’s service was in the newer area, on the opposite side of the rectory. David walked along the crushed stone walkway lined with weeds and entered the new section just as the service ended. Mike Collins stood with his arm around his wife, consoling her. Tears flowed freely from their eyes. Mark stood by their side, watching the progress of the funeral with a far away stare. He took his mother’s hand and cried uncontrollably when Father Ahern sprinkled a handful of dirt onto the casket.
    â€œAshes to ashes, dust to dust. Let us pray…”
    A low murmur filtered over the burial ground as the gathered group prayed in whispered unison. David found the Chief and stood beside him. He noticed how pale and tired Murphy was and began to have second thoughts about bothering this man with his foolishness.
    The prayer ended. An electric motor hummed as it slowly lowered the coffin into the grave. Father Ahern continued to whisper prayers and sprinkle the coffin with holy water. He then escorted the family to their car, holding Mrs. Collins’s arm, explaining how God works in mysterious ways.
    Cathy was now safe away from evil on earth.
    The service was over. The crowd solemnly began to leave; some looked one last time at the coffin, others tossed flowers onto it. Many wept, some shook their heads in disbelief. Chief Murphy noticed David next to him.
    â€œDamn shame, young and innocent, her life taken away so brutally. Nothing left but a destroyed family.”
    â€œDeath is never an easy thing to understand or accept,” remarked David.
    â€œNo, it’s not.” Murphy walked towards his car. “By the way, tell your Uncle thanks for the quick work on the reports.”
    David spoke thinking it now or never. “I’d like to speak with you a moment if I could.”
    â€œCan’t it wait? I have a lead on whatever it was that killed the Collins girl and Andy. I’d like to try and find it before it kills again.”
    â€œThat’s what I wanted to talk to you about, who committed those murders, but I’m afraid you’ll lock me in a padded cell,” David blurted out.
    The Chief stopped abruptly, looking straight ahead. David came to a halt behind him, not knowing what was next. He spoke softly.
    â€œWhat I have to say is going to sound bizarre, out-of-this-world, crazy in the head. You’re going to think I’m hallucinating.”
    Murphy turned, his face serious, eyes searching. “What’s going to sound crazy?”
    â€œWell,” David began, coughing to clear his throat and waiting for the Chief to toss cuffs around his wrist. “You heard of the legend of Isabel Shea, the witch?”
    â€œWho hasn’t?” Murphy was not yet