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really practicing human sacrifice？ Mass murder； perhaps？ I'm nauseated； but right now I'm more scared than anything else。 I could have told you all of this in person； of course； but it seemed important to get this down in writing； just in case it does turn out to be a legal matter。 Christ； I wish I'd never even heard of Carlos Fucking Detweiller。
e down and take a look at these as soon as you possibly can； okay？ I just don't know if I should pick up the phone and call the police in Central Falls or not。
John
SYNOPSIS
JOHN KENTON； who attended Brown University； majored in English； and was president of the Literary Society； has had a rude awakening in the real world： he is one of four editors at Zenith House； a down…at…the…heels paperback publisher in New York。
Zenith has 2％ of the paperback market and is fifteenth in a field of fifteen paperback publishers。 All of the Zenith House personnel are worried that Apex； the parent corporation； may decide to put the house on the market if there isn't a sales turnaround in the calendar year 1981。 。 。 and due to Zenith's poor distribution network； that seems unlikely。
On January 4th of 1981； Kenton receives a query letter from CARLOS DETWEILLER； of Central Falls； Rhode Island。 Detweiller； twenty…three； works in the Central Falls House of Flowers； and is hawking a book he has written called True Tales of Demon Infestations。 It's obvious to Kenton that Detweiller has absolutely no talent as a writer。 。 。 but then； neither do most of the writers on Zenith's roster （biggest seller： the Macho Man series）。 He encourages Detweiller to submit sample chapters and an outline。
Instead； Detweiller submits the work entire； which is even more abysmal than Kenton…who thought that the book could perhaps be cut down； ghost…written； and juiced up for The Amityville Horror audience…would have believed in his worst nightmares。 Yet the worst nightmare of all is in the photographs Detweiller encloses。 Some are painfully faked pictures of a seance in progress； but a series of four show a gruesomely realistic human sacrifice； in which an old man's chest is cut open and a dripping human heart is pulled out of the incision。
The story； which is told in epistolary style； resumes with a letter from John Kenton to his fiancee； RUTH TANAKA； who is working on her PhD in California。
January 30； 1981
Dear Ruth；
Yes； it was good to talk to you last night； too。 Even when you're on the other side of the country； I don't know what I'd do without you。 I think this has been just about the worst month of my life； and without you to talk to and your warm support； I don't know how I could have gotten through it。 The initial terror and revulsion of those pictures was bad； but I've discovered I can deal with terror…and Roger may be locked in his impersonation of some crusty editor in a Damon Runyon story （or maybe it's that Ben Hecht play I'm thinking of）； but the funny thing is； he really does have a heart of gold。 When all that shit came down； he was like a rock…his support never wavered。
Terror is bad； but the feeling that you've been a horse's ass is a lot worse； I've found。 When you're afraid； you can fall back on your bravery。 When you're humiliated； I guess you just have to call up your fiancee long distance and bawl on her shoulder。 All I'm saying； I guess； is thanks…thanks for being there and thanks for not laughing。 。 。 or calling me a hysterical old woman jumping at shadows。 I had one final phone…call last night after I'd talked to you…from Chief Barton Iverson of the Central Falls P。 D。 He was also remarkably forgiving； but before I give you the final gist of it； let me try to clarify the whole sequence of events following my reception of the Detweiller manuscript last Wednesday。 Your confusion was justifiable…I think I can be a little clearer now that I've had a night's sleep （and without Ma Bell in my ear； chipping off the dollars from my malnourished paycheck！）。
As I think I told you； Roger's reaction to the 〃Sacrifice Photos〃 was even stronger and more immediate than mine。 He came down to my office as if he had rockets in his heels； leaving two distributors waiting in his outer office （and； as I believe Flannery O'Connor once pointed out； a good distributor is hard to find）； and when I showed him the pictures； he turned pale； put his hand over his mouth； and made some extremely unlovely gagging sounds so I guess you'd have to say I was more right than wrong about the quality of the photos （considering the subject matter； 〃quality〃 is a strange word to use； but it's the only one that seems to fit）。
He took a minute or two to think； then told me I'd better call the police in Central Falls…but not to say anything to anybody else。 〃They could still be fakes；〃 he said； 〃but it's best not to take any chances。 Put 'em in an envelope and don't touch them anymore。 There could be fingerprints。〃
〃They don't look like fakes；〃 I said。 〃Do they？〃
〃No。〃
He went back to the distributors and I called the cops in Central Falls…my first conversation with Iverson。 He listened to the whole story and then took my telephone number。 He said he'd call me back in five minutes； but he didn't tell me why。
He was actually back in about three minutes。 He told me to take the photographs to the 31st Precinct at 140 Park Avenue South； and that the New York Police would wire the 〃Sacrifice Photos〃 to Central Falls。
〃We should have them by three this afternoon；〃 he said。 〃Maybe even sooner。〃
I asked him what he intended to do until then。
〃Not much；〃 he said。 〃I'm going to send a plainsclothesman around to this House of Flowers and try to ascertain whether or not Detweiller is still working there。 I hope to do that without arousing any suspicions。 Until I see the pictures； Mr。 Kenton； that's really all I can do。〃
I had to bite my tongue to keep from telling him that I thought there was a lot more he could do。 I didn't want to be dismissed as a typical pushy New Yorker； and I didn't want to have this fellow exasperated with me from the jump。 And I reminded myself that Iverson hadn't seen the pictures。 Under the circumstances I guess he was going as fast as he could on the basis of a call from a stranger…a stranger who might be a crank。
I got him to promise he'd call me back as soon as he got the photographs； and then I took them down to the 31st Precinct myself。 They were expecting me； a Sergeant Tyndale met me in the reception area and took the envelope of photographs。 He also made me promise I'd stay at the office until I'd heard from them。
〃The Central Falls Chief of Police…〃
〃Not him；〃 Tyndale said； as if I was talking about a trained monkey。 〃Us。〃
All the movies and novels are right； babe…it doesn't take long before you start feeling like a criminal yourself。 You expect somebody to turn a bright light in your face； hook one leg over a beat…up old desk； lean down； blow cigarette smoke in your face； and say 〃Okay； Carmody； where did you put the bodies？〃 I can laugh about it now； but I sure wasn't laughing then。
I wanted Tyndale to take a look at the photos and tell me what he thought of them…whether or