Chapter 4: The Story

Though many people might think otherwise, Lampwick valued his life. Sure he was a chain smoker, a drinker, and even a dabbler in some drugs, but he was in no rush to die. It was why he was such a sneaky bastard after all. His bad habits didn't make his mother proud, but they were the best way for him to survive.

Well, sometimes. There were moments when being slick and sly just didn't make the cut, and one had to show the cowardly side that they spent so much time trying to mask. Granted, it was humiliating, but at least one lived to fight another day, even if it was a coward's life.

Lampy was easily reminded of this when he found himself shoved against the alley wall with bruising force. Groaning, he shook his head and made the mistake of looking up at his abuser, who glared back down at him with eyes icier than the weather in Antarctica. He immediately gulped and tried to crawl out onto the streets again, where, though the evening was drawing near, there were at least some people around. There was no way his attacker would continue this abuse in front of the pure and lighthearted denizens of Fantasia.

Unfortunately, he was proven wrong when he felt his attacker grab the collar of his shirt, roughly lift him up at least a few inches into the air, and slam him against the wall, pinning him there. Lampwick had kept his eyes snapped shut through the ordeal, fearing the worst, but he tentatively opened them after a few moments of a cold silence from his attacker. Sweating profusely, he swallowed the nervous lump in his throat and shakily smiled at the person, revealing huge buckteeth.

"T-Tink, sweetheart," he stammered, tipping his hat. "W-w-when'd you get back…?"

Tinkerbell's eyes blazed, and commanded, "Tell me where he is Lampwick."

Lampwick nervously tugged on his shirt collar. "Who do you mean…?"

That was a mistake.

With a growl, Tink grasped his collar and banged his head against the brick wall, making Lampwick cry out in pain. It wasn't hard enough to make his head bleed, but it was hard enough to make him realize that the young woman was not playing around. Nope, not at all.

"Look, Tink I can't answer if you keep banging my head like that," Lampy said meekly.

Tink ignored him and leaned her face into his, glaring into his eyes. "Where's Peter? And you better not lie."

Lampwick's eyes widened slightly with understanding. "Pete's missing?"

"Yeah," she replied sullenly, but then glared at him. "Listen, trash. I know that you hang around my brother, so if you have him twisted into one of your little schemes—"

"Now hang on a minute," Lampy protested. "I may be trash, but I'd never drag someone like Pete to my level."

Especially not Peter Pan. You'd have to be a goddamned fool to risk Tinkerbell's wrath. And Lampwick was many things, but he was not a fool, (well not a complete one, anyway).

Tink seemed to consider what Lampwick said, but her glare didn't waver. "That may be so, Lampy, but everyone who comes in contact gets poisoned in one way or another. Always has been that way."

Lampwick cringed slightly at that. He knew what she meant, and he knew that she had said it with the intent to hurt him. Everyone in town knew his mistake ten years prior, when he had left his friend alone in the forest. It was done with the innocent intent to scare the little boy, but little did Lampy know that his little friend ran into more trouble than he expected. And that trouble had a name among the children at the time:

The monster of Fantasia—Monstro.

Because how else can a child describe the one who took children away from their homes at night? They only had a vague idea about the murders. None of the adults, or parents would say anything except, "It's nothing to worry about, just don't stay out too late," or better yet, "No, you are not allowed to go out anymore". So, the children had to make up their own tales about the person—or thing, in their minds, who took away children. And that entailed giving it a name, one that made chills go up the spine whenever the name was mentioned: Monstro.

Many of the tales children whispered was one that involved Monstro dragging children into Fantasia's forest with his huge claws, all the way into a cave to be eaten. Since he was about twelve, and felt like he knew everything, Lampwick was certain that that particular tale wasn't true.

But his younger friend hadn't known that.

Lampy snapped his eyes closed. His breathing turned into harsh pants as tears threatened to break through his eyelids. He shook his head, trying to get rid of the image of a little boy smiling up at him.

So young…

So innocent…

So fucking trusting…

Jackass!

…Your fault!

It's your fault he's dead!

No, he was never supposed to get hurt…!

It was a prank, an innocent joke…

…That quickly went wrong…

Lampwick twitched, still being held by Tink. He needed a drink, badly. Or a good old shoot up of heroin. Doing that always made him feel better. It made his senses dull and his brain get muddled; easily avoiding thoughts of a certain little boy and the mistake Lampwick had made that cost the kid his life.

Once he got himself together, he slowly opened his eyes to look down at Tinkerbell. Whether she looked satisfied or guilty with reminding him of his mistake, Lampwick didn't know. Her face was unreadable of everything but determination. All she wanted was to find her brother.

He let out a breath and looked down at her firmly. "Tink, I don't know where Peter is."

Tink looked like she believed him, but she narrowed her eyes more. "You're sure?" she asked firmly.

"I swear on Pinocchio's grave."

She blinked, and then nodded, looking satisfied. She knew him well enough to tell that he was telling the truth. Tink gently lowered him back down to the ground and released him, walking a few steps away. Once Lampwick smoothed out his stretched shirt, Tinkerbell looked up at him with an unreadable expression. He stared back at her, wondering what she was going to say.

"Sorry," she said softly.

He wasn't sure if she was apologizing for beating him up, or putting him through a guilt trip, but Lampwick shrugged anyway, silently accepting her apology. He wasn't really the grudge holding type.

"Hope you find him," he said, sincerity lacing his voice. The last thing this town needed was a missing kid.

Tink nodded a thanks to him, and then walked out of the alley. Lampwick blinked as he watched her walk away until she was just another face among the people on the streets of Fantasia. Then he reached inside his pocket, took out a cigarette, quickly lighting it with expertise, and inhaled its soothing chemicals. Finally, he shoved his fists in his jean pockets and walked out of the alley, quickly scoping all that he could see. His eyes brightened when they found a nearby bar, and he started for it, smiling and looking like he had no care in the world.

It was time for that drink.

Belle gaped. "Whoa…"

Beside her, Meg grinned. "Yeah, I know."

The inside of the "Fun 'N Fancy Free" café was almost big enough to fit nearly the entire town. The lights were dim, but it seemed to set the mood perfectly. The floorboards were a lovely amber brown, sleek and clean. The stage was half the size as any Broadway stage; it had a soft, red velvet curtain that had the gold letters "J.C." embroidered into it. On one side of the stage was a sleek, black piano where a weary looking man was playing. At his side there were also men playing other instruments, such as guitars, cellos and violas. On the other side was an African American woman singing in her microphone, swaying to a jazz melody.

At the foot of the stage were the many sets of tables. They were each round like a perfect circle and had four velvet, cushioned chairs set around them. On top of each table was a lit candle that gave off different scents and set the mood as the song reached its peak. On the left side of the room was a bar that served drinks.

The place was beautiful, but what really held Belle's attention was the music. It was soothing to the ears and on the soul. The type of music that Ariel would turn to mush over. Belle especially liked the piano playing. The man moved his fingers over the keys with the expertise of a genius, at least in Belle's mind.

"Like it?" Meg asked her as they sat down near the stage.

Speechless, Belle nodded. "It's great. All of it. Are they the only band?" she gestured at the stage.

Meg shook her head, her eyes gazing up at the stage. "Oh no, well at least not the singer. She's a newcomer, her name's Tiana*," she nodded at the men playing the instruments. "They are always here though. I don't really know the others very well, but the man on the piano goes by the name of Jiminy Cricket."

Belle quirked an eyebrow in bemusement when she heard the name. Meg caught her confused gaze and laughed good heartedly.

"Yeah, I know. Odd, right? But he's a great guy; even if can be a little sullen once in a while. He actually owns this place, by the way."

"Oh," Belle mouthed. That certainly explained the initials on the curtains. She turned her head back to the stage and took the time to actually look at the man.

Though his piano playing was superb and lively, the man looked the complete opposite. He must have been about fifty, more or less. His skin was pale and sallow, indicating he never went out much. His head was balding, with only a layer of graying hair left on either side of his head. He wore a worn out suit, which had a black jacket with long tailcoats, a black top hat that was resting on the piano, waiting to be put on again, and fingerless gloves over his hands. His dark brown eyes followed the notes of the music he was playing, but they showed listlessness and indifference throughout it all. It was almost as if he were lifeless.

For some reason, it made Belle sad that someone like him looked that way. There was something about him that reminded her of her father, an old inventor who was retired, and he was the happiest man Belle had ever known. Something must have happened to make him numb to the rest of the world.

It was really none of her business, she knew, yet she found herself asking anyway, "Is he okay?"

Meg followed her gaze and it softened somewhat in a bit of a revelation. "I don't know," she said softly. "I haven't really lived here that long, so I don't really know these people that well. Jiminy has his down moments, but I've never seen him this down before."

Belle hummed and hesitated before asking. Most likely Meg wouldn't really know about the Fantasia murders, if what she said about not living there long were true. Still, it wouldn't hurt to ask, right? Belle certainly hoped that it wouldn't hurt.

"So, if you haven't really lived here that long," Belle asked gently, "would that mean that you wouldn't know about the murders that happened here ten years ago?"

Meg blinked at Belle and her mood seemed to dampen slightly. Her eyes shifted to the side, and back to Belle.

"Yeah, I honestly don't know the details about it. I only know the basics about it. Are you a reporter or something? Is that why you ask?" she added, judgment void from her voice.

"A writer, actually," Belle answered sheepishly. "I'm doing research for my next book."

Meg quirked an eyebrow, and then her face lit up with recognition. "I thought your face looked familiar! I've read one of your books—Rose Petals, I think it was?"

Belle smiled humbly. "My first one."

"I thought it was pretty good, you know for a romance novel. Usually, I'm not too crazy over those books…. Didn't you write another one after that?"

She nodded. "But this time I wanted to do something…different."

Once again, Meg quirked an eyebrow. "I think I understand, but…dead children? Really? No offense, but you don't look the type to write that kind of stuff."

Belle laughed, "So I've been told. But I really wanted to try horror out—try to write something dark, yet realistic."

Her companion kept her eyebrow quirked, but then she shrugged. "Heh, whatever you want. But, if you need to ask around, then I suggest that you start with Jim over there," she added, pointing to the bar with her thumb.

Belle followed where Meg was pointing and saw an adult African American man serving drinks with a friendly grin, a cigarette sticking out of his mouth. She looked back at Meg for reassurance, to which Meg gave a small smile and nodded. Feeling more confident, Belle stood up from her chair and walked over to the man called Jim Dandy.

Meg watched her go, frowning slightly. She wasn't really sure if sending Belle off to ask about the Fantasia murders was a good idea or not. People were still sensitive about it, especially the parents of the dead children. She had once asked about it in front of Jiminy Cricket, her question having to do with the man who had been arrested for the crimes, and Mr. Cricket had actually gone from being jolly to snapping at her, telling her that she didn't know everything. She even talked about it in front of one of the mothers of the killed boys. That was the official last time Meg ever asked about the murders.

Hopefully Belle wouldn't run into that problem. The last thing she wanted for the young woman was for her to be run out of town by an angry mob. She certainly wouldn't with Jim Dandy. He was one of the friendliest guys in this town. But Meg couldn't really tell with the rest of the town.

"Hey Meg," a friendly male voice broke her out of her reverie.

She looked up and saw a familiar man about her age, dressed up in a waiter's uniform. He had broad shoulders, a well-chiseled face, short orange hair and a pair of beautiful blue eyes. He was stronger than the average male, handsome enough to be lusted after by millions of women (and some men, perhaps) and desired enough to be the envy of every male in the world. Yet, despite all this, he was truly a nice guy and surprisingly shy.

Meg smirked playfully at him, though with affection in her eyes. "Well, well, Herc. How are you?"

Hercules flushed slightly, yet shrugged. "Just working. You?"

"Babysitting," Meg said, gesturing towards Belle, who was currently talking to Jim. "See that girl over there? She's the one I had to guide around town today."

Herc hummed and looked down at Meg curiously. "She's the one who rented out Geppetto's home?"

She nodded, leaning her elbow on the table and cupping her chin in her palm, still gazing at Belle. Herc followed her gaze and also got lost in his own thoughts.

Belle approached the bar, politely raising a hand at Jim. "Um, excuse me?"

Jim noticed her and smiled jovially at her. "What can I get you, miss?"

She thought for a few minutes, and then thought it would be better to start this off by ordering a drink.

"Do you have any Shirley Temples**?" she asked.

He turned his back to look at the shelves of drinks. "Virgin, or alcohol?" he asked over his shoulder.

"Alcohol," she answered with certainty.

Jim Dandy nodded and proceeded to pouring her drink. Meanwhile, Belle observed him. He looked to be about Jiminy's age, if not younger. He certainly looked younger, and happier. His chocolate brown face was smooth of any wrinkles and frown lines, and he always seemed to be smiling. He wore a blue and white striped t-shirt, a vest, a pair of blue jeans and a small hat that topped his bald looking head.

He smiled at her and gave her the drink. "There you go."

"Thank you," Belle said as she paid him and sat at one of the bar stools. She took a few sips of her drink, and then looked at him awkwardly.

"Excuse me, but is it okay if I ask you some questions?" she said timidly.

He didn't regard her with much hostility, but Jim looked at her a little warily. "Depends. About what?"

She lowered her voice, "About the Fantasia child murders?"

"…Why would you be interested in that?" His voice was laced with genuine shock.

Belle fidgeted in her seat. "I'm doing research for a book I'm writing," she admitted, realizing how lame that might sound.

The man hummed into his cigarette, and then nodded. He took out his cancer stick, snuffed it against a nearby ashtray, and then threw it out in a wastebasket. He regarded Belle with seriousness, a contradiction of his earlier mood. He leaned back against the shelf and crossed his arms around his chest.

"All right, ask away," he said.

Belle got out a small notebook she had kept in her coat pocket, as well as a pen. She quickly opened it to an empty page and regarded him with the same seriousness.

"When did the disappearances start?"

Jim thought for a moment. "About 1986," he nodded. "Yeah, that's right; 1986, in July. That was when Snow disappeared."

Belle paused in writing down what he said. She quirked an eyebrow. "Snow?"

He nodded solemnly. "That was the name of his first victim. Snow White; sweet little girl, only about six years old. She was considered missing for a month until her mutilated body was found in the woods. The incident shook the whole town." He shuddered uncomfortably at the memory of reading the article that told of her being found.

Belle took notice of his discomfort. "You don't have to tell me about the victims if you want. I just need the basics."

Jim nodded, grateful. "It went on for twelve years, at least that's the official number for it. Sometimes there was a 'break' for a couple of years until he started killing again. The murders mostly took place during the winter and the summer, on days as lovely and warm as today. It went on until ten years ago, when the police finally caught the man who committed the crimes," he hesitated, "At least that's what they say."

"What do you mean by that?" Belle asked slowly. "He was caught, wasn't he?"

He snorted. "Yeah, they caught him all right. The only problem is that I think they caught the wrong man."

She leaned forward, her interest piqued. "Really?"

"Yeah. Geppetto was a kind man, one of the kindest in our entire town. But that's not the only reason. He lived here all his life. By the time the murders started, he was already in his fifties. If he was so sick and insane, like the police said, then why did he wait so long in his life to start killing?

"And he loved children more than anything. He made toys, for the love of God! He had a wife, with whom he tried to have children with, but she had died five years before the murders started. Even so, I knew he wanted a child badly—it wasn't new in town. And thirteen years ago, he finally earned enough to adopt a child—a five year old by the name of Pinocchio. For three years he took care of that child, being the best father he could try to be. He loved that child more than anything."

Jim paused, staring at Belle in the eye with serious regard. Belle found herself shifting uncomfortably under his scrutiny. Yet she continued to listen to him when he began to speak again.

"Don't you think it odd that that very same loving man, who loved a child like he was his own, would kill the very same child he had worked so hard to adopt?"

Belle blinked, taken aback. She lowered her head and thought about his question, though she knew it was rhetorical. From the way he sounded, it was odd for such a man to kill his son. It didn't really make any sense. But wasn't that how it always is? A man is caught to be a serial killer and everyone who knows him protest of his guilt, talking about how nice he was. Someone so nice couldn't possibly be a killer.

That was the naïve aspect of it all.

Yet, when Belle observed Jim Dandy's face once more, she felt herself waver.

Was it really naïveté…?

Jim inhaled a deep breath, and then exhaled it, feeling himself calm down a little. His eyes softened as he looked at her.

"The point is that they got the wrong man," he added softly, yet with bitterness. "And they will never find out how wrong they are."

She swallowed uncertainly. Does she want to know...? "Why do you say that?"

"Because Geppetto died last year."

*Tiana is the newest Disney princess to be seen in "The Princess and the Frog".

**I'm not sure if Shirley Temples come with alcohol, but if they don't, then they will just in my story.