ing…I doubt if anyone there even knows why they picked up Zenith House last year in the first place； except that it happened to be for sale cheap。 The chances that we can improve our position （2％ of the paperback market； fifteenth in a field of fifteen） over the next year aren't very high。 Maybe we'll end up getting married in California after all； huh； babe？
Well； enough doom and gloom…I'll mail this off and hopefully get back to work on my book tomorrow…and the next letter I write will be of the 〃chatty； newsy〃 variety。 Shall I ask ole Carlos to send you flowers from Central Falls？
Forget I asked that。
My love；
John
P。 S。 …And tell your roommate that I don't believe manufacturing 〃the world's largest edible Frisbee〃 has any merit whatsoever； Guinness Book of Records or not。 Why not ask her if she has any interest in trying for the world's record of sitting in a spaghetti…filled bathtub？ First one to shatter it wins an all…expense…paid trip to Central Falls； Rhode Island。 。 。
J。
interoffice memo
TO： Roger FROM： John RE： True Tales of Demon Infestations； by Carlos Detweiller
Detweiller's manuscript came this morning； wrapped in shopping bags； secured with twine （much of it broken）； and apparently typed by someone with terrible motor control problems。 It is every bit as bad as I feared…abysmal； beyond hope。
That could and should be the end； but some of the photos he enclosed are intensely disturbing； Roger…and this is no joke； so please don't treat it as one。 They are a weird conglomeration of black…and…white glossies （made with a Nikon； I would guess）； color slides （ditto Nikon）； and Polaroid SX…70 shots。 Most of them are ridiculous…middle…aged men and women either got up in black bathrobes with cabalistic designs sewn on them or middle…aged men and women in nothing at all； displaying skinny shanks； dangling breasts； and pot bellies。 They look exactly like what you'd guess the folks of Central Falls would imagine a Black Mass should look like （in some of them there is a much younger man who is probably Detweiller himself…this young man is always shot from the rear or with his face in deep shadow）； and the locale appears； in most cases； to be a greenhouse…associated with the florist's where Detweiller told me he works； I imagine。
There's one packet of six photos labelled 〃The Sakred Seance〃 which show plasmic manifestations so obviously faked it's pitiful （what appears to be a balloon frosted with Day…Glo paint is floating from the medium's fingertips）。 A third packet of photos （all SX…70 shots） are textbook…style 〃exhibit〃 shots of various plants which purport to be deadly nightshade； belladonna； virgin's hair； etc。 （impossible for me to tell if the labels are accurate…I can't tell a maple tree from a ponderosa pine without help； Ruth would probably know）。
Okay； the disturbing part。 Some of the photos （four； to be pletely accurate） in the 〃Black Mass〃 scenes purport to show a human sacrifice…and it looks to me as if maybe they really did kill someone。 The first photo shows an old man with an extremely realistic expression of terror on his face lying spread…eagled on a table in the greenhouse I mentioned。 Several people in hokey robes are holding him down。 The young man I presume to be Carlos Detweiller is standing on the left； naked； with what looks like a Bowie knife。 The second shows the knife plunging into the old fellow's chest； in the third； the man I presume to be Detweiller is reaching into the chest cavity； in the last he is holding up a dripping thing for the others to look at。 The dripping thing looks very much like a human heart。
The pictures could be plete hokum； and I'd be the first to admit it…a half…decent special effects man could cobble up something like this； I suppose； especially in stills。 。 。 but the efforts to mislead in the other photos are so painfully obvious that I wonder if that can be。
Just glancing at them is enough to make me want to whoops my cookies； Roger…what if we've stumbled onto a bunch of people who are 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