The Personal Effects of Aloysius P. Featherwyck
Katherine Stottlemeyer looked into the soft, gray eyes of the middle-aged man sitting across the table from her and knew he was waiting for her to speak. It was not an easy story for her to tell, even though she had recounted it several times. She had told it so often, in fact, that she was no longer sure what she already said and what she had not.
Where should I begin? she wondered anxiously. What could I say this time that would make my story more believable?
"You want me to tell you everything I remember about that day, right? Even the silly little details that I don't think have any bearing on the events?"
The man with the soft, gray eyes nodded his head.
"Have you ever read about the strange things people buy on eBay?" she asked. "There was the grilled cheese sandwich with the face of the Virgin Mary on it, a ghost in a jar, a Dorito in the shape of the pope's hat, Jesus on toast, a pretend monster in a closet and a piece of gum chewed by Britney Spears."
The middle-aged man across the table remained silent, waiting, his soft, gray eyes never leaving Katherine's face.
"Like I've already told you, my daughter was going through a Harry Potter phase at that time," she continued, the pain evident on her once-attractive face. "It was her eighth birthday, and I was planning a Hogwarts party for her. I had gone down to the party supply store earlier in the week and bought the plates, cups, tablecloth and balloons; but I wanted something unique for a centerpiece, like a Halloween decoration of a witch or a black cat, something other than the cardboard cutouts most kids had at their parties. Unfortunately, since it was April, the only place I could look for Halloween decorations was online. I searched a few Internet party stores, but it wasn't until I went on eBay that I found what I was looking for."
Katherine fell silent, remembering how excited she had been when she saw the auction. It was several minutes before she continued.
"The item was listed under the category 'Collectibles, Holiday and Seasonal, Halloween.' The name of the item was intriguing: 'the Personal Effects of the Late Aloysius P. Featherwyck, noted Witch and Conjurer.' The auction featured the late Master Featherwyck's pointed witch's hat, supposedly made by the Conical Hat Company of Salem, Massachusetts, and a slightly used wooden wand, 'guaranteed to still work magic.' The hat looked old and worn and reminded me of the sorting hat in the Harry Potter films. Have you ever seen any of those movies?"
The man with the soft, gray eyes shook his head.
"I guess you're not one who likes fantasy. I only asked because a lot of adults like the books and movies, not just kids. Anyway, like I was telling you, it was Cherylynne's eighth birthday, and I wanted to throw her a special party with a Harry Potter theme. I didn't want her to feel as though she would have to lose out on things like birthday parties, vacations and Christmas presents just because she didn't have a father anymore. You do know I'm a widow, that my husband died of cancer when Cherylynne was six, don't you?"
The man nodded his head.
"Cherylynne was all that I had left in the world after I lost Jonathan. She became my entire life, my reason for living. Without her, I would have given up and locked myself in the garage with the car running."
Katherine took a tissue from her pocket and wiped the tears from her eyes. How many times must she relive those painful memories?
"Cherylynne's birthday party was held on a Saturday afternoon. At about nine o'clock that morning, Samantha Binghamton—that's my sister-in-law—picked her up and took her out to Perkins for breakfast and then to the mall to buy her a birthday present. While they were gone, I decorated the house with streamers and balloons and Harry Potter posters."
She stopped speaking and turned her head away. The memory of the dining room decked out for Cherylynne's birthday celebration was a particularly poignant one. In retrospect, it represented the calm before the storm.
"When I was done with the decorating," she continued, "I put the snacks out for the kids: potato chips, pretzels, candy-coated popcorn and those miniature Hershey chocolate bars. Then I made a party punch with fruit juice, ginger ale and raspberry sherbet. I put it in a big pot that resembled a witch's cauldron and, as an added touch, I floated gummy worms on top of the punch and placed a few on the rim of the pot."
Katherine felt foolish talking about such things. Why did he want to now? What did any of it matter now?
"I had just finished all the preparations when I heard my sister-in-law's minivan pull in the driveway. When Cherylynne came running in the door, I immediately sent her upstairs to get dressed for the party. She wanted to wear the black robe with the Hogwarts emblem on it that she'd worn for Halloween."
Again, the distraught mother wiped her eyes with a tissue.
"Just before one o'clock, the guests began arriving. Kyle Westmoreland and his little sister, Stephanie, who live on the cul-de-sac at the end of our street, were the first to arrive. Their mother dropped them off and told me she would be back for them at three or three-thirty. Several of Cherylynne's friends from school came next, and by quarter after one everyone was there. To keep the children occupied, I set up the family room for musical chairs. Then the children played Pin the Tail on the Donkey, Simon Says and Blind Man's Bluff. The kids had a lot of fun, and I handed out little prizes to the winners."
Katherine's mouth became dry, and she asked for a drink. The man with the soft, gray eyes poured her a glass of cold water from the pitcher on the table, and after taking several long sips, the woman continued her narrative.
"It was about ten minutes after two by the time I got all the children seated around the dining room table. Everyone sang 'Happy Birthday' to Cherylynne, and then she blew out the candles on her cake. I gave each of the kids a bowl of either chocolate or vanilla ice cream and a slice of birthday cake. Oh, the cake was magnificent! Did I ever describe it for you? I had it done by the bakery in the mall. It was made to look like a witch's spell book, and it was opened to a page for a happy birthday spell. The children all loved it! Do you have any children?"
The man with the soft, gray eyes ignored the question. He had no intention of discussing his personal life with Katherine.
"When the children finished eating, it was time for Cherylynne to open her presents. It was like Christmas morning all over again. She got a board game, a collectible Barbie doll, a selection of books and some play clothes. Her favorite present, though, was an art kit that came with pastels, oil crayons, water colors, charcoals and colored pencils. Cherylynne always liked to draw. I'll bet she's going to be an artist when she grows up ...."
When Cherylynne grows up ....
For the briefest of moments Katherine had forgotten the horrifying events of that day. She turned her head away again and stared out the window, at the slate colored sky and the ominous clouds that threatened to bring rain. It was suitable weather for the occasion. Sunshine and blue skies would have been obscene, given the circumstances.
The man with the soft, gray eyes cleared his throat, a gesture meant to attract Katherine's attention, to get her to focus on her story.
"Aloysius P. Featherwyck," she said with thinly veiled anger, still looking out the window at the gloomy day. "I wonder who dreamed up that name. Aloysius P. Featherwyck. Cherylynne got a kick out of it. And she loved that damned silly hat."
Silence. Then Katherine turned back to the man with the soft, gray eyes.
"Do I really have to continue?" she asked, silently pleading with him to say no, but he nodded yes instead.
"The party started to wind down about quarter to three. I expected the parents to start arriving to pick up their kids. I had made goody bags for them to take home. I don't suppose you know it, but they're all the rage at children's birthday parties. I filled them with candy and little toys. Anyway, Cherylynne wanted to pass them out herself, and I didn't see any harm in it. But first, she put on the hat. It was far too big for her. It flopped down over her eyes, and she had to rest the brim on the top of her head so she could see. I guess Aloysius P. Featherwyck had a big head."
She looked into the man's soft, gray eyes, and noticed he was beginning to show signs of impatience.
"Once all the children had their goody bags, they gathered in the foyer, and I got their jackets and sweaters out of the hall closet. Cherylynne had enjoyed being the center of attention all day and wanted the opportunity to show off one last time. She ran into the dining room and got Aloysius P. Featherwyck's wand. Then, she stood in the center of her circle of friends, bowed and very theatrically waved the wand and wished them all 'goodbye and Godspeed.'"
Katherine's lower lip began to quiver, and her eyes brimmed with tears.
"I can't explain what happened next. The children just disappeared!" she sobbed, her face lined with pain. "They were there one minute and—poof!—they were gone the next. When Cherylynne turned to me, she looked as though she were on the verge of panic. 'You didn't tell me the hat and wand were real,' she cried. How could I know they were dangerous? I thought they were harmless Halloween decorations. I never dreamed Aloysius P. Featherwyck had actually existed."
Katherine Stottlemeyer reached into her pocket for one last tissue.
"I told my little girl to use the magic wand to bring her friends back. She tried, but it didn't work. I took the wand and hat from her and tried myself, but all I succeeded in doing was sending my daughter to join her friends—wherever they might be. Oh, damn Aloysius P. Featherwyck to hell! And damn that person who sold his personal effects on eBay."
The man's soft, gray eyes became steely gray with anger. He placed his hands on the table and rose to a standing position.
"That's enough of your fairy tales, Mrs. Stottlemeyer," he shouted. "Save your lies for your psychiatrist. I don't believe for a single moment that you're delusional. I want to know where those children are."
"I told you," Katherine sobbed. "It must have been black magic or voodoo or some other kind of spell. They all vanished into thin air."
"No, they didn't," the FBI agent screamed. "Tell me what you did with the bodies. The poor, grieving parents want to know what happened to their missing children. I ask you again, Mrs. Stottlemeyer, where are they?"
"I don't know. I don't know. I DON'T KNOW," the woman wailed.
A few moments later, Special Agent Kelsey McDonough heard a key turn in the door. A doctor entered and instructed an orderly to take the sobbing patient back to her room and sedate her.
The agent turned off his microcassette recorder and placed it in his jacket pocket.
"You've got terrible timing, Doc. I hadn't finished my interrogation yet."
"She's had enough questions for one day," the psychiatrist insisted. "She needs therapy, not badgering by the FBI. She's a sick woman, after all."
"The hell she is," Kelsey countered. "She's a liar and a child killer, and I'll keep coming back here again and again and again until I get a confession out of her, until she tells me where the children's bodies are."
Without a word of goodbye, the federal law enforcement agent left the room and headed out of the asylum. From his office window, the doctor watched him cross the parking lot and get into his car.
"Sorry, Agent McDonough," the psychiatrist said with a malicious grin, "but Mrs. Stottlemeyer is never going to give you what you want. She'll be with us for a very long time."
Had the FBI agent not been so intent on breaking Katherine Stottlemeyer and getting her to admit to an atrocious crime she had not committed, he might have paid closer attention to the nametag on the psychiatrist's white lab coat: A.P. Featherwyck. If he had, no doubt Special Agent Kelsey McDonough would have realized the poor woman's story was not as farfetched as he believed.
A few years ago, while I was shopping on eBay, I came across such an item described in my story. (The photograph in the top left corner is from the actual eBay auction.) I printed out the page and put it aside, thinking one day I might write a story about it. Well, the day has come. [Note: To protect the innocent, I changed the conjurer's name from Esmay Earwax to Aloysius P. Featherwyck.]
Salem tried on Featherwyck's hat at a birthday party, but the only thing that disappeared was the cake and ice cream.
