Read Online The Innswich Horror by Edward Lee - Free Book Online

cringed. I would’ve guessed her
to be five years younger in the picture but if anything her current
beauty shined even more intensely. So what if a portion of Zalen’s
salacious slander was, in essence, fact? Even if, in dimmer times,
she had been a
prostitute, who was I to judge?
    I would not. For time
immemorial, women have been exploited within the grips of a man’s
lustful world; Mary’s past deeds mattered none to me, because I
know that God forgives all. I could only pray that He would
forgive me.
    Back toward the town’s center, I found a
bargain shop which had precisely what I needed: a small briefcase.
I made my purchase from yet another amiable Olmsteader, a Mr.
Nowry, who was very gracious over my tip. “Where might I find the
most direct route to the waterfront?” I asked.
    “Just follow the main cobble out front,
sir,” he pointed. “That’ll take ya straight to the water. And a
beautiful waterfront it is.”
    “Yes, I’m certain, and thank you.”
    “Just make sure,” he rushed to add, “you’re
not there after dark.”
    The kind warning didn’t set well. “But
Olmstead hardly seems—”
    “Oh, yes, sir, it’s a fine town’a fine
people. But any town, mind ya, has got its bad apples.”
    True enough. Before I left, I noticed whom I
presumed must be his wife in a back office, scribbling on
papers.
    Her overlarge frock-dress made no secret of
the fact she was pregnant.
    Another woman with
child, I thought, and I tried with
difficulty at first to cogitate my concern. True, I’d encountered
what seemed to be an undue number of pregnant women in the little
time since I’d arrived, but then I had to remind myself I was
essentially a cosmopolite in a new and quite blue collar little
village. In truth, I supported the government’s initiatives to
encourage population-growth. These small townships were more
close-knit and, obviously, more conceptive, which was all for the
greater good in the long run. Remembering this, I reconsidered my
initial reaction to the number of expectant mothers I’d seen.
Surely, it was not as undue as I’d thought.
    As I leisurely approached the waterfront,
though, I noticed a short open blockhouse in which I could see a
full dozen women contentedly shucking and canning fresh oysters.
Most of them were pregnant.
    Zalen’s assessment of the town’s industrial
hub rang too true. I saw at once, in spite of the gorgeous,
surf-scented vista of the harbor, that Innswich Point was indeed a
very dull sight to behold. But, oh, to have seen it as Lovecraft
did! At least Zalen’s photo would allow me a facsimile of the
privilege. Now all that remained was the partial name that the
Master had borrowed. More disappointment struck me when I gazed out
to the reef but then recalled that it was no reef at all but a
ho-hum sandbar. Workers about the Point’s many fish processors and
boat docks were mainly strong, plain-faced men, much like the few
I’d shared the bus with. I wouldn’t say that they glared at me, but
their cast was not particularly welcoming. This, for sure now, was
the impetus for Garret’s condemnation of the male populace; he was
referring to these surly watermen.
    The blockhouse of the ice-making facility
clattered and roared, loud trucks coming and going. From a higher
window in one of the fish plants, though, a pretty faced woman
smiled at me, and as I left, several more women in another open
blockhouse smiled at me as well. They sat at long tables, repairing
fishing nets.
    Most of them were pregnant.
    I left the innocuous scene and its every day
toil behind me. An appetite had built up since my ice cream with
Mary, and suddenly I was so looking forward to my luncheon with her
on the morrow. Nor had I forgotten my dinner appointment with the
high-spirited Mr. William Garret, though I regretted I had gleaned
no news of his misplaced associate. When a distant bell tolled
three times, I knew I’d never last another four hours till dinner
so, next, I found