0 comments/ 10298 views/ 0 favorites Ice Cream Man Ch. 01 By: MungoParkIII Zed slowly turned the corner with his van and slowly headed down the street, carefully watching for any children in the area. The music blaring on his loudspeakers had cycled for what must have been the five hundredth time that day and Zed was sick of it. The day had been slow, boring in fact and the asinine music was gouging a hole in his head. He had sold some ice cream, but it was all to groups of kids or with adults around. The groups of kids were frustrating all shouting and screaming at once, Zed preferred one on one contact with them. As far as the adults go, they just made Zed nervous, inspecting the ice cream before giving it to the kids, as if Zed might try to poison them or something. Just the thought of that was an insult. As he slowly rolled down the street, music blaring, he saw someone a short ways ahead. It was a young girl, maybe five or six standing at the street by herself. He could see she was excited, kind of hopping up and down in anticipation, which a lot of kids did, but what was different about this little girl was that she was wearing mittens. Now the weather that late August had been cooler than normal, certainly cooler than the heat wave they experienced the first week of the month, but it was still above ninety degrees outside. Zed pulled to a stop in front of the girl, slipped back in his van to the window on the side and slid the plastic pane to the side. He looked down at the girl, but she was so short that even with her standing on the curb he couldn't get the ice cream safely down to her and he certainly couldn't get any money. Moving to the back of the van, he opened the back door and stepped out. "Why hello and what is your name?" "Stacy Ann Williams." "What a nice name for such a big girl as yourself, and how old are you?" "I'm six, but my mommy says I think I am a teenager." "A teenager? Do you want to be a teenager," Zed said squatting down close to the girl. "My big sister is a teenager, but mommy says I act older than her sometimes." "Oh, do you know how old I am?" "Are you a hundred?" "A hundred?" Zed giggled. "My great-grandmother is a hundred. She lives in Cal... Cali... California." "California, that is far away." "I know, she flies in an airplane," the little girl replied, then looked up at the pictures of ice cream on Zed's van. "You know, we have an ice cream that looks like an airplane, would you like to see it?" The girl nodded her head and then looked up at the pictures again looking for it. "Oh no, it's not up there, but I have it in my truck. If you come in I can show you," he said, standing up and moving toward the back. "Oh you have a kitty cat one," she exclaimed, "I have a kitty cat." "But don't you want to see the airplane?" "I like the kitty cat," she replied, holding her hand out as if pointing. "Mittens," Zed said, "Why are you wearing mittens, it's so hot outside." "When I eat the ice cream it makes my hand cold." "So you wear mittens, that is so smart. Are you the smartest girl in your class?" "I go to first grade this year, I was the best colorer in kindergarten." "Were you? Did you draw your kitty cat?" "Yes I drew a hundred kitty cats and they all were mine," she replied proudly. "I have a kitty cat in my truck, would you like to see it?" "It might hiss at me, my kitty cat does that at strangers." "This kitty cat is a nice one, it won't hiss." "Are you a stranger?" the girl asked pensively. "No, I'm an ice cream man." "Ice cream, I want the kitty cat one." "Okay, okay, I'll get a kitty cat ice cream," Zed said, climbing into his truck. He grabbed one kitty cat ice cream and stepped out. He walked back over to Stacy Ann and squatted down. "It cost one dollar," he said. "But I don't have a dollar." "Do you have any money?" "I have seven pennies in my piggy bank." "But you need money to pay for the ice cream." Stacy Ann stood for a moment looking pensive and then said, "Can I draw you a picture of a kitty cat and then you give me the ice cream." Zed reached out his hand to clear a stray bit of her hair from her face, he stopped his hand just inches from the strand of hair. He remained motionless for a moment until he noticed his hand beginning to shake. Moving it away from her head he wiped his hand on his shirt. "I don't have anything to draw with," he said to her. "I know, I'll go get my sister, she always has dollars." "No, no, that's okay. Hey, what if I give you the ice cream and you give me one of your mittens?" "But my hand will get cold eating the ice cream." "No, no, see you will have one mitten to hold the ice cream with and you can use your other hand to pet the kitty cat in my truck." "Okay!" she replied, beaming with excitement. "You give me that mitten," he said, watching her bite the end and pull the mitten off with her mouth. She handed him the mitten and he reached out the ice cream to her, but then hesitated. "Here, let me open it for you." Pushing her mitten into his pocket, he pulled off the paper and handed her the ice cream. Zed watched intensely as Stacy Ann delicately ran her tongue over the ice cream, her body shivering first from the excitement and then from the cold. He watched her lick the ice cream several more times. "Now do you want to come pet my kitty cat?" She nodded and followed him around to the back of the van. As Zed reached to open the door he noticed a motion at the window in Stacy Ann's house. Suddenly the front door burst open. "STACY ANN!" came a loud shout from the door. Stacy Ann looked up at Zed and said, "That's my sister, Katy. She has a loud mouth." Quickly opening the door, Zed slipped inside, closing it behind him, leaving Stacy Ann standing in the street behind the vehicle. "STACY ANN, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" Zed could hear the shouts from inside the van. As he went to shut the window the teenage girl she asked him, "What are you doing with my sister?" "Ice cream, I got her an ice cream." "She doesn't have any money." "It was a sample, free sample," he said, pulling the window shut and quickly moving up to the driver's seat. He started his van and began to pull away, watching the teenager carrying her sister back toward the house. Stacy Ann held up her hand, the one without the mitten, and waved goodbye. Zed could see her soft, delicate fingers moving in unison. "Good bye, Stacy Ann," he whispered, pulling out of the neighborhood. Once at home he quickly moved the ice cream from his truck to several freezers he had in his garage. He then went into his small house and walked back to the bedroom. Once inside he moved over to a large bulletin board hanging on a wall and looked at his collection of things. Bits of clothing, socks, a shoe, a tee shirt, some small hats and a lock of hair were all thumb-tacked to the cork backing. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the mitten. Selecting a thumbtack he hung up his latest trophy and then sat down on his bed. He had to admit he had a good day today, he came very close, closer than he had anytime before and he had a wonderful memento. Whispering to himself he said, "Yes, today was very good and maybe tomorrow will be better." Ice Cream Man Ch. 02   The call came at about nine p.m. that Friday night and suddenly we knew it was the worst possible news. We quickly threw on some clothes and then my wife, our other daughter and I climbed into our car and headed to the hospital. I drove carefully, there was no rush, there was no hope, we were coming to simply verify it was our daughter’s body. I completed the drive mechanically, my mind focused somewhere else as I silently prayed, pleaded and dealt with whoever might be listening to make it someone else there, to make it someone else’s little girl. Parking near the emergency room entrance we slowly got out of the car and trudged across a driveway and went inside. Once inside we paused at the door as slowly the reality of it all began to creep into my mind. Looking around I saw there were people, hurt people, people who loved these hurt people, people waiting as the hurt people were worked on and lived or not. I was one of these people, someone who loved someone who got hurt, someone who had not lived. I felt a little dizzy and looked for a chair. “Mr. Wilson, I’m Detective Armstrong,” he said reaching out his hand to me as he nodded to my wife, “Mrs. Wilson.” I reached out my hand and took his, somehow drawing a bit of strength from his firm handshake. Not noticing my other daughter standing behind my wife he continued talking, “They aren’t quite ready for you yet but I have somewhere you can go and sit down.” We followed him down the corridor and through a set of double doors. Once away from the commotion of the emergency room the building seemed to take on a very cold and quietly ominous tone. The sounds had changed from children crying, a TV playing, and numerous nervous conversations to the sound of our shoes squeaking on the polished floors, the high pitched drone of the florescent lights and the faint rumbling of air conditioning equipment. Suddenly a high pitched musical tone startled all three of us and I saw the detective grab a cell phone. He quickly opened it and I heard him say, “Detective Armstrong, okay hold on a minute.” The detective turned to me and pointed down the hall saying, “Sorry, but I need to take this call, there is a small waiting room down there, the last door there on the right before the double doors.” He then wandered off down another corridor talking quietly on his cell phone. I led my wife and daughter down the corridor and turned into the room. The floor was carpeted, a comfortable change from the sterile vinyl floors we had been squeaking across since we came into the ER. There was a couch and four other comfortable looking chairs. There also was several tables with magazines neatly stacked on them. I watched my wife and daughter go in and sit on the couch, putting their arms around each other. While looking around the room I couldn’t help but think that this was the end of the line, something like the last waiting room before hell. And just outside, the double doors that opened into the morgue. I couldn’t sit down, instead I just leaned against the door frame, half in the room, half out in the hallway. After a few minutes I could see the detective heading towards me. “He’s coming,” I said to my wife and daughter. They stood up and as they moved to me my wife looked at me with a look of sheer terror. I reached out, took her hand and held it firmly. We waited a moment for the detective to reach us. “Okay, they are ready for us. We’ll go through these double doors and immediately to the left is the entrance to their offices. Once in there we will only need one of you to come in and identify the... identify her. Are you ready?” I nodded and we followed him through the doors and into an anteroom where there were doors into several offices and then a wider door into... into the morgue. Squeezing my wife’s hand I took a deep breath and then let go of her hand and then followed the detective to the door. He opened it and stood back letting me pass. Inside was a hospital worker standing next to a table, where a body was under a sheet. Taking another deep breath I stepped forward and watched as he reached to the ends of the sheet. Before he moved it he said, “Now there is some bruising on her face and some swelling so prepare yourself.” “Bruising and swelling,” I whispered and then nodded. The sheet folded back slowly and as soon as I saw the curly hair I knew. Quickly grabbing the edge of the table to keep from falling I watched as her forehead appeared and then the rest of her face. The bruise was on her left cheekbone, her lips were badly swollen and her skin seemed a pallid gray color, but I knew it was her. Nodding I said dejectedly, “Yes, that’s Katy.” The detective motioned for me to follow, so I quickly reached out my hand to clear a stray bit of her hair from Katy's face, carefully moving it to the side of her head and tucking it behind her ear. I let my fingertips lightly run down her ear to her earlobe and then I moved my hand away. She had felt so cold, so cold. Walking out of the morgue I looked at my wife and nodded as she collapsed into my arms crying. There was a couch in the corner of the anteroom that I kind of dragged her to and we both fell onto it. Stacy Ann just stood in the middle of the room, looking first at my wife and I and then looking toward the door of the morgue. After a short while when my wife had recovered herself, the detective came over and squatted down and said, “At this point we don’t have any clues about who might have done this to your daughter, can you thing of anyone who might want to do her harm?” As he talked Stacy Ann moved over and stood just to the side of my wife. It looked to me she was trying to understand what was happening. For the time being I just didn’t want her to know, we could tell her later, maybe in the morning. My wife answered the detective, “No, she was popular in school and I never heard of any problem there. She would baby sit for a lot of our neighbors, everyone seemed to love her.” “Okay, there was just one other thing. We found her holding this,” he said, holding up a plastic bag with a red mitten inside. “Do you recognize this?” “What is it, a mitten?” my wife asked. Suddenly Stacy Ann shouted, “That’s my mitten.” Everyone looked at her as the detective asked, “Why did Katy take your mitten?” “Katy didn’t take my mitten, the ice cream man did.” Moving from the couch and kneeling on the floor next to Stacy Ann I asked, “Can you tell me about the ice cream man?” “He came to our house a few days ago. Katy was busy so I went outside and waited for him. I wanted a kitty cat ice cream but the told me it would cost dollars, but I only had seventeen cents in my piggy bank. When I told him Katy has dollars he said I could have the ice cream if I gave him my mitten. “After that he was going to let me pet his kitty cat. It was in his truck, but when I went to get in his truck Katy screamed her big mouth. She came running out and pulled me away and I didn’t get to pet the kitty cat.” “What did the ice cream man do?” the detective asked. “He took my mitten and climbed into his truck and drove away and then Katy made me promise not to tell mommy and daddy about it. Oops, I just told you.” “Oh Stacy Ann it’s okay, you did good,” her mother said. The detective looked at me and said, “I think your daughter may have just solved this case.” “Can we go home now?” Stacy Ann asked. Looking down at her, the detective said, “Yes you may, and thank you for being such a big girl.” Stacy Ann smiled as we led her down the hallway. We found our way back to the ER and then headed out to the car. By the time we all climbed in, buckled our seatbelts and were ready to back out, Stacy Ann was asleep in the back seat. My wife and I would try to explain everything to her in the morning.