The mid-day commuters on the subway were more than Travis had antic.i.p.ated, and he had to wait through five trains to get on one that was going his way. And even then, he had to do as the locals, and muscle his way on, as the warning sounded, 'Mind the Gap! This door is closing!' On board finally, he looked at his watch, and realized that he just might be late for his first British book-signing. He watched the exits, and when Piccadilly Circus came up, he had to literally push through the crowd to get out before it took off again.

He raced up the stairs to the street level, and was shocked at the bustling crowds heading back to the office from their lunch break. Monday afternoon was obviously busier than Sunday morning. Since he had not scouted out the book store in advance, he had no idea which way he needed to go, so he tried to ask those pa.s.sing. Most just kept walking, but finally a woman stopped and tried to help him. She wasn't sure, but she thought Borders Bookstore was to the west, down the main thoroughfare. He thanked her and set out. He was thinking she must be mistaken, then he saw the sign. It was a rather large store.

Then he saw the large crowds extending out both doors of the building, so thick that he couldn't even get in. I wonder what the crowds are here for. It must be a two for one sale, Travis thought. He tried to muscle his way into the building past the line, but an elderly chap replied, "No cutting in line, young man! I have been here for over an hour!"

"What's going on here?"

"The Queen is in the building!"

"You mean Queen Elizabeth?"

"Who else? Oh, you're a yank!"

"Yes, and I am about to be late. Can you fellows please let me through? I have a book signing here today!"

The elderly man looked startled. "So you are Travis Lee?"

"Yes, sir."

"Let him in! This is the Yank author that the Queen is here to see!"

Suddenly a corridor opened up in the crowd, and he was ushered into the building. Inside, the first person he recognized was Angel, and she wasn't happy.

"Travis, where have you been? I've got people out looking for you all over London!"

"I'm not late. It is five minutes until two."

"If you have an appointment at two, you are expected to be here at 1:30! You Americans! Come, come! The Queen is waiting!"

"The Queen? Waiting on me?"

"We have no time to dally with simpleton questions! Have you ever met royalty before?"

"I met Princess Diana on a plane once."

"No, I mean real royalty! There are certain rules of protocol you must observe in meeting the Queen, and I am going to give you a crash course! Always address her as 'Your Majesty', or in the third person, 'would Your Majesty like tea'? Never as 'Ma'am', as you Americans like to do! Never sit when she is standing."

"Can't I just be myself?"

"Oh, heavens no! You Americans are already perceived as being crude barbarians. Don't do anything to support that notion!"

"So I guess picking my nose, scratching or farting in 'Her Highness' presence is out of the question?"

"Oh G.o.d! Please don't do anything that will reflect badly on Jester Books! That's all I ask!"

"Why is the Queen here?"

"Are you that stupid? She is here to personally get an autographed copy of your book! You are presently the British Isle's #1 best selling author!"

"Wow! I would have thought she would send someone to get it for her, instead of fighting this crowd!"

"There was no fighting. The Queen is allowed to go to the front of the line, any time she wants something. But she has been waiting since 1:30! She told us specifically that she wants talk personally to the author of 'The Relic'! So shape up, Travis, you are about to meet Her Majesty, the Queen!"

"Should I bow, or something?"

"No, you would just look ridiculous! She is already seated at your table, just walk up and have a seat across from her, and apologize for being so late!"

The whole time Travis was being briefed, they were moving through the store, headed toward a raised section of floor in the corner, where Queen Elizabeth II was seated, and patiently waiting. The rest of the line was held back behind a crowd control rope, giving the Queen ten feet of s.p.a.ce. Travis stepped up on the raised section, and moved to his place behind the table, as the crowd applauded.

"Better late than never! I am sorry that I kept you waiting, Your Majesty!

"It is quite all right."

"I made the mistake of taking the subway! This time of the day, it is a killer!"

"I can only imagine! Mr. Lee, I have heard shining reviews about your book, and when I read your bio, I decided I must meet you!"

"That is very kind, Your Majesty!"

"According to what I read, this is your first novel?"

"Yes, but I have many more on the way. I plan to have a long career as a writer!"

"If they all live up to the hype of your first book, I shall want to read them all!"

"Thank you Ma'am, I mean Your Majesty!"

She laughed. "You Americans! I met your President, Bill Clinton, and he called me Ma'am as well!"

"To whom should I sign you book? To Queen Elizabeth II?"

"That will do."

Travis wanted to write something witty, but he was drawing a blank, so he kept it simple. "Well, I certainly appreciate you taking the time to honor us with your presence, Your Majesty."

She leaned across the table toward him. "Let me ask you one question more."

"Certainly, Your Majesty."

"Do you think it is possible that such a thing could really happen? I mean something like what happens in your story?"

"You mean that a relic could be possessed by an unseen evil?"

"Yes, have you researched this subject to the extent, that you know it to be true?"

"I have done enough research to indicate that a real life story like mine is plausible, but not likely. This story itself is a work of fiction, a fabrication. But could it happen? That is what makes fiction so intriguing for me! I try to follow so closely to reality, that the reader must ask himself, or herself that question. Could this really happen, if all the right circ.u.mstances come together?"

"That is exactly the answer I was afraid you would give me!"

The Queen's aides cut in. "Excuse me, Your Majesty, but we are pressed for time. We should really be going."

"Yes, I suppose we should. Thank you for your candor, Mr. Lee. Will you be in England long?"

"We fly back on Sat.u.r.day."

"Perhaps I will send for you on Friday, before you leave. That will give me time to read some of your book. I might have further questions at that time."

"Certainly. I think we will be in Canterbury on Friday, but if I can . . ."

"I'm afraid that will not be possible, Your Majesty! Remember, you are to entertain the Ethiopian Amba.s.sador on Friday evening."

"Oh, that's right. Perhaps I can correspond with you on this subject, after you return to America?"

"Sure. Here is my business card. Write me any time."

She rose, and Travis stood to his feet, and photographers snapped a few photos. As her entourage left the building, one of the Queen's Aides leaned over the table toward Travis, and whispered, "You will NOT correspond with the Queen on the subject of the supernatural. She is not a Pen Pal! Good day."

Travis didn't know what to say to this. It sounded like the people around the Queen were trying to protect her from something unseen. He shrugged it off and sat down, to begin signing his novel for the next person in line, and soon forgot about the nasty remark.

The bookstore owner was happy as a lark, that the Queen had visited his store in person. He had his staff serving soft drinks to the waiting crowds, and had set up a table loaded with cookies, nuts and cakes. Angel was hovering around his table, greeting the customers, and helping the elderly to step up on the raised platform. She was being a 'good will' amba.s.sador for Jester Books. She knew that her company had a real winner, with a writer like Travis Lee. At one point she brought him a gla.s.s of red wine. She had found out from past experience, that wine 'loosened the tongue', and made conversation easier with their customers, though Travis had no problem making conversation. Some were delighted with his southern drawl. The afternoon melted away quickly, into a blur of faces, and signatures. He signed his own name so many times, that it became unrecognizable, even to him.

23.

Janice was about to get concerned about Penelope. It was 10:15, and that meant that Bob could be back any minute from Bates Park. Surely he would wait a few minutes past ten, to see if she was late, but by 10:10 he was likely to be on his way back home, and it was only a ten minute drive to town. Their window of opportunity was soon to close. She was about to go knock on the door, when she saw the screen door open, and Penelope emerged. But something was different about her. She was wearing a heavy brown coat over her dress, which was odd for August. As she was getting into the car, Janice saw the Bible in her hand.

"Good! You got your Bible back!"

"Let's get out of here, Janice!"

She already had the engine started, and they pulled out on to the highway. They saw no one on the road. Penelope burst into tears.

"What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing! It's just seeing the old house where I grew up! It brought back a lot of old memories. Bad memories!"

"Yes, I can imagine. Listen, I'm sorry for taking your Bible over there. You shouldn't have to go back to a place like that."

"That's okay! I'm fine now. I think from this day forward, I am going to start getting better!"

"I hope so. I smell something."

"It's me! I peed in my pants again. The old house caused it! I'm sorry about your seat!"

"That's okay. I can clean it. Want me to turn up the air conditioner? Or do you want to take off that hot coat?"

"Oh, this? This was my coat years ago. I decided to take it too, as long as I was there."

"But it must be awfully hot, b.u.t.toned up like that."

"No, I'm fine. I'll be home in a few minutes." She wiped the sweat off her brow. "I will be fine in a few minutes."

Janice expected to see the maroon truck pa.s.s them, coming from town, but it didn't. "Your Dad must still be at the Park, waiting on you."

"Well, he can wait there till he rots, for all I care! I am through with him! I am moving beyond him, Janice! He will never invade my dreams again!"

"That's the att.i.tude to have! Just live your life, and let him live his! As long as your paths don't cross, everything will be fine."

Penelope burst out into tears again.

"Do you want to go eat lunch somewhere?"

"No, I need to go get myself cleaned up. That house made me feel dirty!"

"I understand. Well, do you want to go eat lunch later, after you've showered?"

"That's kind of you, Janice, but no. I just want to be alone with my thoughts right now."

"I understand."

Or at least she thought she did.

When they arrived at Vance's apartment, Penelope thanked her again, as she got out of the car. As she did so, Janice noticed a spot of blood on her dress. "Penelope, is that blood on your dress?"

"Yes, I cut my finger looking for my Bible."

"Oh. Okay, glad I could help." As she drove away, Janice was glad that Penelope had not taken her up on her offer of lunch, because she really didn't want to take her. She just offered out of courtesy. She hoped that she never heard from that woman again. She needed a few items from the grocery store, so she would go there before she went home. On the way, she did a 'drive through' of Bates Park, but since it was now almost 10:40, she did not see Bob's maroon truck. He was probably back home by now, and mad, at being stood up.

Penelope unlocked the front door to Vance's apartment, went in, and closed it quickly, then locked it. She then took off that hot overcoat, and threw it on the floor. She immediately began unb.u.t.toning her blouse, which was no longer white, but splotched with crimson red blood that had soaked her to the skin. Her bra was stained red, so she took it off and added it to the pile. She got a roll of paper towels, and used half the roll, daubing off sweat and blood. She examined the spot on her skirt. Yes, it would have to go too. Anything with blood on it was going out, because she wanted no evidence to connect her to her Dad.

As far as anyone knew, she had just gone there to get her Bible. She got it, and left. Janice could verify that. She hated that Janice had seen that spot of blood on her dress, but Janice was so nave, that perhaps she would believe that she had only cut her finger. She kicked off her wet panties, and added them to the pile. She went to the kitchen and got a big garbage bag to put all the clothes in, including the brown coat. Then she went to take a shower, taking the time to scrub the bloodstains thoroughly. She got out refreshed, then went to find clean clothes in the bedroom. She felt better, looked better, and smelled better. She wanted a strong drink, but knew there was nothing in the house. Vance had thrown it all out. For all his faults, Vance was not a bad guy. He had taken care of her through some pretty rough times.

Now, maybe the times would get better, after he got out of jail.

She took the garbage bag out to the back yard. She knew the neighbors were at work, so she reached over the fence and stuffed the bag into their garbage can. Garbage pick-up would be in the morning, and they wouldn't care about her using their garbage can, because the neighbors seldom filled theirs. They had often told Vance that he could use their can, if his was full. Even if they saw the bag, they would think nothing of it.

She went back in the house to read her Bible, and to wait on the news.