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Fletcher Victor. 37-year-old son of Ed "Buzz" Victor and Francine Marie Victor, was killed today when his car veered out of control off Highway 70 out of Sandburg during a police pursuit. Mr. Victor had just committed an armed robbery of the Sandburg Farmers' Credit Union when his vehicle careened dawn an embankment and into the Sandburg Creek, where it sunk in twenty feet of water.

State police divers retrieved Mr. Victor's body and the stolen funds late in the day.

The story was continued on page 15, where there was a picture as well. There was no mistaking who he was. The man in this story was Harley's father.

That meant that the man living in this house was Harley's grandfather!

I spun around and looked up the short stairway at the open door as if I expected him to be standing there. The chill that ran through my body was so cold to the bone. I felt like I couldn't move.

Why? Why would he pretend to be his son? Why didn't he tell Harley the truth about his father?

Thinking I heard Suze coming down from her cleaning work upstairs. I put everything back quickly and went back up the short stairway. I closed the door softly behind me just as she turned to come through the hallway. She looked at me a moment, her eyes small and suspicious. Perhaps she did have some sort of mystical power and knew what was in my mind and what I had done. I avoided her and went into the living room.

My body was trembling, I was torn between just walking out and running off or waiting for Harley. There shouldn't be any danger here. I thought. After all, the man was still his grandfather. Maybe there was some sensible explanation. Maybe he was ashamed of his son and didn't want Harley to know about his father. Should I be the one to tell him?

A short while later. Suze came to the doorway and interrupted my thoughts.

"I go to shop," she said. "I put out some cheese, crackers, bread and fruit in the kitchen. You want lunch, you eat."

"Thank you. Merci," I said quickly. She nodded and left the house.

I was a little hungry. so I went in and made a plate for myself. Even though I still had pain. I decided not to take any more of my pills. I didn't want to be sleepy. especially now. As I sat there nibbling on some cheese and crackers, I stared at the door to the so-called holy room. Did Harley know about this room. too? Had Suze told him this morning before he had left for work?

My curiosity about the jug was growing. What could possibly be in it? Had her son been cremated? Were his remains in the jug? Bones? I rose and went to the door, opening it slowly to peek back inside. The candles were all still lit. The skull seemed to glow under the soft light, and the flickering flames made the eye sockets look like they had eyes that blinked at me. I listened. The house was quiet except for the sound of the light rain falling now.

Courageous or foolish. I continued into the room and approached the jug. Just as I reached for the cover, the holy room's door snapped shut. My heart began to pound. Was it the wind seeping through the cracks and under the windows that had blown it closed? Or was it some spirit of the dead? Anyone would act spooked in this room, I thought, glancing at the snakeskins.

The skull seemed to be looking up at me, waiting. My hand froze inches from the lid of the jug. I could see my fingers trembling. Then I heard what sounded like a squeaking to my right and looked down to see a large rat slinking along the wall and the floor. It paused and looked up at me, its nose twitching. I couldn't breathe or swallow, When I lifted my crutch, it scurried under the table and disappeared in the corner.

I felt nauseous from the sight of it and decided to forget about the holy room and the jug and whatever was in it. What difference did it make now anyway? What we had to do was leave and leave as soon as we could. The door didn't open at first, but it was just jammed because of the way it fit in the frame. A little jingling of the handle got it to open. I closed it quickly behind me and returned to the living room.

My ankle was throbbing so badly now, it brought tears to my eyes. Maybe I would have to take a pill. Desperately, I fought off the need. I tried to concentrate on happy things and put it out of my mind. Fortunately, I fell asleep finally and didn't wake up until I heard laughter and noise and opened my eyes to see Harley and the man I now knew to be his grandfather coming into the house. They both paused in the doorway to look in on me.

"Hi," Harley said. "How are you doing?" I tried to smile and sat up.

"You're in a lot of pain, huh?"

"Those things always hurt more the day after," his grandfather said. "Suze give you something else today? She cures all my aches and pains."

"No." I quickly replied.

"Where is she?" he asked, listening for sounds of her working or moving about.

"I don't know. Last I remember she told me she was going to shop. I fell asleep so I'm not sure whether or not she has returned."

"Oh. Probably going to fix us another one of those special Haitian meals." He smiled, his eyes brightening with anticipation. "Maybe she's going to do lambi en sauce."

"What's that?" Harley asked.

"Conch in a thick sauce. It's my favorite. She's like that, very quiet, but always planning, plotting, thinking. I'll go look for her," he said, "She might be saying her evening prayers," he added and left us.

Harley stepped farther into the living room.

"We had great day together," he said. "Neither of us shut up for more than a minute. He had so many questions to ask me, and he's really impressed with my knowledge of architecture. He said he really didn't la-low how valuable this house was until I explained it so well. The work went so fast, probably because we were both babbling constantly." he recited, spooling his words like a line off a fishing pole.

"I thought with the rain and all, you might not be able to do any work."

"Probably not if it was outside work, but he had a job to paint this apartment. He said it would have been a two-day job without me. I saved him a lot of time and money," he told me proudly.