May 24, 1986 – A woman and an infant were found stabbed to death in their California home on Friday. The two were found wrapped tightly in bedsheets in the master bedroom closet, authorities say. The victims were identified as Lorena Hobbes, 27, and Angela Hobbes, 2, and police are seeking husband and father Arnold Hobbes in connection with the murders.
After hearing screams and breaking glass, a neighbor called authorities, who reported to the scene and found the bodies.
“I heard the scream and I knew something was wrong,” she said. “We never hear any disturbances coming from that house.” Other residents came out when they heard the sirens. “It was just like a movie,” said Eleanor Rigby, another neighbor. “You never expect something like this to happen to someone you know. I couldn’t believe it when I heard about it.”
“We have reason to believe their deaths were the result of a domestic disturbance,” Richard Knowles of the Los Angeles County Coroner’s office said in an interview. “There is evidence of prior abuse, both on the mother and the child.”
Arnold Hobbes, a management consultant for Benson and Bailey, was last seen leaving the house shortly after the incident, according to a neighbor who wishes to remain anonymous. He was seen driving away rapidly in a black Ford Mustang after police were called, and is still at large.
Anyone with information related to the murder is encouraged to come forward.
“I really hope they find him,” said Lena Robinson, Lorena Hobbes’ sister. “This incident was totally senseless. We need some answers.”
*****
Rylin Hensley sits in her garage at her laundry table, folding linen. I watch her.
Most of it is white. The sheets, the towels, and the curtains, especially. Harvey likes lots of white things; they calm Him, help Him relax. She loves Him with all her heart, so she always makes sure she has plenty of white things around the house. Especially linen. Harvey has a special love of white linen.
There is colored linen, for the guest room. Too much white in the guest room is not good, Harvey says. The guests will dirty it up. Harvey hates dirty linen. Especially if it’s white.
She finishes folding the sheets, taking momentary comfort in their fresh, just-laundered smell. That’s a good smell for her – that smell makes Harvey very happy. And if He’s happy, so is she.
She walks over to the washing machine, a new Electrolux. A gift from Harvey, after the old one stopped getting the stains out. He loves her so much. He tells her so all the time.
Inside, there is more linen soaking. These are the kitchen curtains. They’re greasy, because she forgot to wash them yesterday. Harvey found them, and reminded her not to forget the kitchen linen the next time. There are other, darker stains on the curtains, but Rylin doesn’t worry about those. They’ll come out, eventually. They always do.
Satisfied that they have soaked long enough, she starts them on a wash cycle. She returns to her table, and begins to fold the towels. She examines them, checking for stains. Harvey hates stains on white linen.
Especially red ones.
She finishes the towels, and stacks them in the laundry basket. She carries them up into the house, heading for the linen closet. The phone rings before she gets there.
She sets down the laundry basket at the top of the stairs, making a beeline for the phone on its cradle in the master bedroom. Her hair – it’s honey brown now, Harvey says the blonde makes her look like a whore – floats weightlessly just above her shoulders, bouncing gently as she makes her way across the hall. Her eyes, a rather remarkable green, carry a slightly vacant look, like someone who has just been in a minor car accident and is still unsure if they are hurt or not.
She reaches the phone and answers it, sitting down on the bed. I sit beside her. Sort of.
“Hello?”
“Rylin,” Harvey says. His voice sounds strange. She cannot identify his mood from His tone. This isn’t good. “How are you, honey?”
“Fine,” she says simply. “Just doing the linen.”
“That’s good, dear. You know how much I hate dirty linen. You can be so considerate at times, Rylin. It’s why I love you. I just wish you didn’t make me discipline you so often. It really hurts me to do it, baby girl. You know that don’t you?” My soul burns with rage at the statement. Arnie used to feed me that shit.
“Of course,” she says. She does know it. I knew it too. At least on the surface.
Harvey sighs appreciatively. “You know, baby girl, I’ve been thinking about you all day,” He says, His tone suggesting how He’s been thinking about her. “I can’t wait to come home and…visit with you.”
Her stomach drops at this statement, and her eyes lose their disoriented quality as she becomes suddenly lucid. He can’t be serious, but she knows He is. I do too.
“I-I’ve been thinking about you too, Harvey,” she says, struggling to find a way to ease herself out of this corner. “But do you think that would be a good idea? I mean, I love you, you know that, but it was only yesterday. What if we have to go to the hospital, like last night? I don’t want them to take you away from me, Harvey.” She struggles to keep her voice sincere. He’s very perceptive and if He catches even a whiff of insincerity-
“You’re fine,” He says evenly, and she relaxes a little. “We can always make another one. You’re only thirty. That’s the great thing about being young, there’s plenty of time for that stuff.” He shifts positions in whatever chair He’s sitting in, and rolls his eyes. She can’t see it, but she knows it all the same. “Besides, some good came of it. Now I won’t have to remind you not to forget the kitchen linen, right? I won’t have to discipline you for that anymore, and we’ll be much happier without the disciplining, won’t we, baby girl?”
For a moment, Rylin simply sits in silence. Suddenly, she is blinded by a rage so terrible she is grateful that Harvey cannot see her. Her face is reddening rapidly as she remembers the previous day, a memory she has been trying to suppress since she awoke this morning. She remembers the stairs and the pain, but most of all she remembers the blood, and how very red it was. She’d been folding linen then too, the master bedroom sheets, and they’d been so clean before the blood. Somehow, this is the part that infuriates her the most – she’d worked so hard to clean those sheets for Harvey, and He’d gone and soiled them all up. It had taken her nearly all night to get the stains out again. It was slow going after she’d returned from the ER. This deep anger grips her for a moment longer, then passes. The lost look returns to her eyes. I know the look well; I’ve seen it in the mirror many times.
“Yes,” she says meekly, resigned. “I’ll see you when you get home, honey.”
“Good,” Harvey says, satisfied. “I’ll be home around seven, so have dinner ready.” It’s ten a.m. “Make sure you don’t overcook my steak. I’d really love to get through one night without having to discipline you, so don’t disappoint me, alright?” The rage burns through me again, and Rylin shivers unconsciously, sensing it.
He hangs up before she can reply.
I leave her, go up on the roof – it’s one of my favorite places – and look out across the landscape. Much has changed. I see this same scene every day, but I am always surprised at how very much it’s changed since I was a part of it.
The roofs are all red, adobe brick now, to prevent fire, and the walls are all peach stucco. There’s almost no open field left anymore. It’s stopped the dust storms, so I suppose it’s good that they’re gone. Still, it makes me sad and a little alarmed to see the place I once lived mutate so rapidly. Things that happen inside the houses are still the same, so it feels wrong to me that their outsides should change. Wrong, and somehow false. I don’t like it. Not one bit.
I look across the street at the house directly across from Rylin and Harvey’s and I see the man than lost his wife last year. Jerry, I think his name is. It’s hard to keep up with the names these days.
Cancer, I think it was. Or maybe meningitis. I’m not sure of much anymore.
I like Jerry. He’s a nice man. Nothing like Harvey. Or my Arnie. He’s nothing like my Arnie.
Jerry says hello to Rylin often, and sometimes he helps her carry in her groceries. I’ve seen the way he looks at her, and Harvey would not be pleased. He waved to her this morning when she sent Harvey off. She didn’t wave back, and I don’t think Harvey noticed him. I hope not, for Jerry’s sake, but you can never tell with the military types.
Jerry is in his front garden now, putting Miracle Grow on his roses. That’s his new hobby, the roses. I had a hobby after Arnie killed my Angela, too. It was knitting.
Rylin will have one before long.
I call out to him, as loud as I can. They’re beautiful, I say. Just like her.
Jerry freezes suddenly, looking in my direction slowly. He stares right at me, but of course he can’t see me. He goes back to his task after a moment, a little shaken up.
I visit Jerry sometimes too, when he’s in bed at night, crying about her. I comfort him, talking to him at one of the few times he’s open enough to hear me. I wish I’d had someone like me for comfort when my Angie and I died, but I didn’t, and it was awful. I don’t want that for Jerry. He doesn’t deserve that kind of pain and loneliness. Nobody does, except for maybe Arnie.
And Harvey.
I get lost in memories of Harvey and Rylin and Arnie and me – they blend together now, they’re so similar. I remember the time Arnie lost some money and thought I had stolen it. I’d had those bruises for weeks. Another time Harvey had caught Rylin talking on the phone to her mother – something he didn’t allow her to do – and he’d given her a couple of nasty kidney punches. And then there was the thing with that big novelty dildo a friend had gotten Harvey as a gag. I didn’t think what he used it for was very funny, and neither did Rylin. I could hear her screams even though I went somewhere far, far away.
That’s another strange thing. I can never escape Rylin’s screams, no matter how hard I try. It’s like I’m tethered to her.
I don’t know why I haven’t been able to leave her. I want so desperately to be with my Angie, but I can’t go. I can’t go while Harvey stays.
He pulls into the driveway, and I look down, surprised at the amount of time that has lapsed. It’s been getting worse lately, much worse. I used to be aware of every second that passed, but the days and weeks seem to melt together for me now. I’m afraid of what that might mean.
I stay up on the roof, waiting for the stars to come out.
****
December 17, 1988 – Arnold Hobbes, a man accused of murdering his family in the summer of 1986, was acquitted of all charges this morning. The victims, Lorena and Angela Hobbes, were found stabbed in their home shortly after Arnold Hobbes was seen fleeing the scene. After two months of deliberation, the jury returned with a unanimous verdict of not guilty.
“The evidence clearly showed that the defendant was innocent,” Renada Collins, a juror said in an interview, amidst the public’s assurance of his guilt. “There was simply no way that this man murdered his wife and child. The evidence was purely circumstantial, and the prosecution simply could not prove beyond reasonable doubt that he was the murderer.”
Not everyone is so convinced of his innocence, however. The victims’ friends rallied outside the courthouse, shouting and even hurling projectiles at the defense as they left the building. Several people were escorted from the premises, but none were arrested.
“It’s a sad day for America when a savage murderer goes free,” said chief prosecutor Reginald Coulson in a press conference immediately following the verdict. “This man stabbed his wife and infant daughter to death and fled, thinking he could get away with it. And, as it turns out, he was quite right.”
“I’m so glad justice was served today,” Hobbes said tearfully after hearing the verdict. “I will never truly get over what happened to my family, but I can finally begin the process of moving on. It’s been a horrible few years, and I’m glad I’ll get some closure.”
The family of the victims could not be reached, and the defense team declined comment, despite…
*****
Harvey Hensley puts his Mercedes in park, and, after he shuts off the engine, he sits, contemplating. She wouldn’t dare, he thinks, trying to convince himself of this. Not after last night. The little bitch wouldn’t possibly dare.
Harvey sits a while longer, wondering about that queer boy that had waved at his wife this morning. Jerry, Harvey thinks his name is. She couldn’t possibly be fucking someone else, let alone someone named Jerry.
He is uneasy, though he tries to deny it to himself. He is deeply unsettled by the idea that Rylin might be fucking the real estate man across the street, and not because she loves him too much. Not even because they’re married. No, Harvey is most deeply affected by this notion simply because he is the one in charge, and she wouldn’t dare do anything without his permission. Not a damned thing. Not with the way he disciplines her.
Gotta keep ’em on a tight leash, his father had told him. You let these bitches have an inch, they’ll take a goddamn mile, and sometimes two. Gotta show ‘em who’s boss, or they’ll never obey. Learned that the hard way from your mother.
Harvey didn’t tolerate such nonsense from his wife. He didn’t know how his father had kept from killing his mother after he found out, but you’d better believe that Harvey wouldn’t hesitate to kill Rylin if he ever caught her. No, siree.
She can’t lie to me, he thinks. I’ll know if she is. So I’ll just ask her, that’s all. We’ll just have to have a little conversation tonight. A little visit.
*****
Harvey gets out of the car, slamming the door shut. I hear it, and turn to look at Him.
His brown hair sits perfectly in place upon His perfect head, and His perfect tie rests perfectly on his perfect shirt. It’s blue, and the blue matches His perfect eyes, the focus of His painfully handsome face.
Harvey looks perfect. This, I think, is how He hooked Rylin. He’s gorgeous. He always looks perfect. He’s desperate to appear perfect, because Harvey has a thing for appearances. He needs things to appear clean, so nobody looks for the dirt under the surface. Clean and white.
Harvey walks his perfect ass into the house, and I follow, right on his heels.
“Rylin?” He calls, tossing His jacket through me and onto the table by the front door. She comes scuttling down the stairs, her hair in a tight bun and her dress short. It’s Harvey’s favorite dress, and she has worn it without him even asking. She hopes this will save her a disciplining later. I know it won’t.
Harvey is in a rather unpredictable mood today, because He surprises even me when he walks right up and slaps her.
It’s a good backhand, and she tumbles backward, her lower back striking the first stair. She doesn’t dare cry out. The neighbors might hear, and then she’d be in real trouble.
Her lip begins to bleed, and she wipes it quickly, before it has a chance to reach the white carpet beneath her. Harvey picks up His foot and brings it down hard on the inside of her ankle, and even I can hear the crunch. This time she does cry out, a long, low moan like an injured cat. She reaches for her injured joint, letting out a small scream when her fingertips touch the wound.
Harvey merely stands, His expression neutral, as if nothing at all out of the ordinary has taken place. “Baby girl, I need to ask you something, and I need you to tell me the truth, okay?” He speaks to her as though he is speaking to a child, his voice easing into a cooing whine at the ends of his words. “Are you seeing Jerry from across the street? Do you talk to him when I’m not home?”
The high pitched note at the end of each syllable infuriates me to a degree that I haven’t achieved since Arnie killed my Angela, and the air round me begins to vibrate and heat up.
Rylin, shaking now and white as the linen she’s just folded, shakes her head slowly and seriously, eyes locked on Harvey’s knees. “No,” she says meekly, her voice watery.
Harvey starts to say something else, then turns suddenly toward me. His eyes narrow in confusion, because he cannot figure out what has drawn his attention. His eyes are trained right on the place where mine should be, even though He can’t see me. He turns back to Rylin after a moment, reaching for her.
“Get up off the floor, baby girl,” He says condescendingly, pulling her gently to her feet. “You’re bleeding. You should go clean up, it’s almost time for dinner.”
She turns, toddling down the hall toward the bathroom, and I am left alone in the entrance hall with Harvey.
My fury has not left me, and it intensifies as Harvey moves into the kitchen and sits down at the table. He helps Himself to the steak and potatoes, and Rylin comes back from the bathroom, stands at the sinks, moving dishes mindlessly from one side to the other, her eyes vacant. I move into the kitchen, my “leg” bumping the wall with a gentle thump. Harvey looks up at me again, His perfect eyes narrowed curiously and His head tilted. I stare back at Him, trying to make Him feel my rage, to unnerve Him. It works, better than I ever could have expected.
The chandelier above Him begins to swing, left to right. He doesn’t notice at first, His eyes still trained on me, but after a moment the crystals begin to clink against one another and He looks up slowly, the beginnings of fear on His face. My heart surges with glee as I fight to swing it harder, and it begins to make small counterclockwise circles around Harvey’s head. He stands up suddenly, moving toward Rylin. He grabs her by the waist, and they walk into the living room, Him frightened and her confused.
“Aren’t you hungry, honey?” Rylin asks softly, eyes on her toes.
“Not anymore,” Harvey says quietly, and, dare I hope, almost fearfully. I feel another powerful surge of glee. I can do anything. Anything at all. Boy, have I been missing out. With a newfound daring, I reach for a knickknack on the little stand beside me.
And I pick it up.
Rylin is busy studying the carpet, but He doesn’t miss a beat. He sees the thing rising in the air in front of Him, and He is now really and truly afraid, I feel it. And my grip gets stronger. More real. More there.
I wind my hand up, and I throw it at him.
It flies across the room with a speed and a power that Jackie Robinson himself couldn’t have boasted, and it whizzes past his head and strikes the wall behind Him.
He jumps about a foot in the air, and when He lands, He’s honest-to-god trembling. His fear flows toward me in waves and I take it in and I think that this must be how rechargeable batteries feel when you plug them up. It flows through me like water, and for a moment – just a moment – I can smell again. I smell the steak seasonings and the bread baking in the oven and even the Febreze air freshener, and though this is a new one for me I recognize it immediately. Then the moment passes and I’m back in the place where I always am, but the air around me still buzzes with my newfound power.
I smile even though I have no mouth.
© 2010 Blake Meridian
–
Sorry, the comment form is closed at this time.