Night Show

by Richard Laymon

  How long could he last?

  Dani shoved away from the door and walked straight forward. Her shadow moved ahead of her, faded as she left the light behind. She went up the middle of the room, turning, sidestepping, walking backwards, never pausing as she checked the dark places where Tony might be hiding. In the corner, she kicked an armchair against the wall. She ducked to peer under a lamp table. She climbed onto the sofa and walked the length of it, her feet sinking into the soft cushions, her hand trailing through the curtains behind it. At the end, she stepped onto the coffee table. A long stride took her to an overstuffed chair. She leaned over its back. Nobody there. She jumped down. With her back pressed to the wall, she used one hand to pull the draw cord. The curtains slowly skidded open, revealing an expanse of window and the shimmering blue surface of the lighted pool.

  Her gaze swept through the room.

  ‘Tony!’

  No answer.

  She made her way back, pivoting, ducking, peering into shadows behind furniture. In the dining area, she squatted low and scanned the space under the table. There was darkness and a forest of oak legs. She straightened up. She turned around. She stepped to the long side of the bar, planted a knee on a stool cushion and crawled onto the counter top. Inching forward, she looked over the edge and found him.

  The coil of rope around her neck stopped swaying.

  Tony jerked it hard.

  Crying out, Dani braced herself on stiff arms as pain hit the back of her neck like a club. Her head snapped down. The rope scorched her ears, burnt a swath up the back of her head and was gone. Before she could move, Tony whipped it across her face. She threw herself backwards, eyes squeezed shut with pain, and felt another vicious lash. Her right knee left the counter. The oak edge hammered her hip, scraped along her ribs, tore at her breast, caught her under the arm and seemed to shove her away. Her knee knocked a stool over. The side of her ribcage hit another, flipping the stool sideways. She fell on it, her body slamming against the seat edge, the legs and rungs. In a daze, she rolled off it.

  She pushed herself to her hands and knees. The knife was gone. She lurched forward, scuttling over the carpet, digging in her toes, shoving away with her fists, trying to stand. With a whish and smack, the rope seared her rump. Then she was on her feet. She dodged around the corner of the bar, and ran.

  Footfalls and harsh breathing close behind. Whish! The rope cut across her back.

  She raced past the front door, into the corridor. Then a hand rammed against her back. She flew forward, legs flinging out wildly to stay under her. But it was no use. She hit the carpet chest-first and skidded to a halt.

  ‘You’re mine now,’ Tony gasped. ‘You should’ve been nice.’

  He stepped on her.

  He stood on her buttocks with both feet.

  ‘I loved you, Dani.’ He bounced, grinding her pelvis against the carpet. ‘I never loved anyone else. I think I’ll skin you. I’ll tie you up and cut your skin off a piece at a time. No. No, I’ll use my teeth. Would you like that?’ He bounced again.

  Dani thrust herself up. The feet shot off her rump. Glancing back as she scurried over the carpet, she saw Tony hit the wall with his shoulder and sprawl backwards, arms flailing.

  She dashed down the corridor. Grabbing the door frame, she hurled herself into her bedroom. She slammed the door. Her thumb jabbed the lock button down.

  ‘You can’t get away from me!’ Tony kicked the door, but it held. ‘I’m gonna get you! I’m gonna rip your skin off!’

  He stepped back, ran at the door and smashed his shoulder against it. The impact hurled him back.

  ‘I’ll get you!’ he yelled.

  Then he raced to the guest bathroom. He flicked on the light, tugged open a drawer under the sink. A fingernail file. It was metal and pointed. He ran to the bedroom door. His hand trembled badly. Then the point scraped into the key hole. He twisted the file and heard a soft, ringing pop.

  He threw the door open, stepped inside, and shut it.

  Except for the flames of two candle stubs on the dresser, the room was dark.

  ‘Where are you?’ he sang. ‘I’m gonna get you.’

  He stared at the bed: the coverlet heaped at its foot, the top sheet thrown back, the pillows crooked. She must’ve been on it earlier with Jack. Making love. By candlelight.

  Rushing forward, he dropped to his knees and peered into the darkness under the bed.

  Not there.

  He stood up, turned around. The door to the master bathroom was shut.

  ‘Well well, Dani.’ As he took a step toward it, he heard the sound of a heavy splash.

  He whirled. He charged past the end of the bed and batted the curtains aside. The glass door was open. The water in the lighted pool still trembled from the impact.

  He ran to the pool’s edge.

  He stared.

  The body was face-up in the deep water near the diving board, rigid as a corpse, sinking slowly toward the bottom.

  ‘Dani!’

  Her eyes gazed up at the surface as if entranced by the view. Her mouth was wide open.

  Tony sidestepped along the rim of the pool.

  God, she looked beautiful, the lights shimmering on her naked body, her hair drifting as if stirred by a strange wind.

  Tony wanted her so badly.

  But he couldn’t go into the water, not even for Dani. Suppose it was a trick, and she grabbed him and held him under . . .

  If it’s a trick, she’ll come up for air.

  But she didn’t.

  She sank to the bottom.

  She blurred and streaked as tears filled Tony’s eyes. ‘Oh Dani,’ he whispered.

  Then pain split his head.

  Tony winced. His head throbbed. He wanted to hold it, but when he tried to raise his hands, they wouldn’t move. He opened his eyes.

  He was outside, facing Dani’s house, lashed to the aluminum frame of a patio chair.

  His head pulsed as he looked from side to side. At first, he saw no one in the darkness. Then a pale figure stepped out from behind the distant barbeque.

  It walked slowly toward him.

  It was a naked woman, her skin pale in the moonlight.

  She held a machete in one hand, a canister in the other.

  ‘Who are you?’ Tony gasped.

  ‘You know me.’

  She was near enough for the pool lights to flutter dimly on her face.

  ‘Get away!’

  She shook her head. She tossed the machete aside, its blade clattering on the concrete. ‘I almost used the blade,’ she said. ‘I would’ve, but I need some information.’

  She shook the canister in her left hand. Tony heard sloshing liquid.

  Charcoal lighter!

  She flicked up the plastic cap. Without another word, she squirted the fluid onto him. It came out in a thin stream, splashing over his shaven head, running down his face. It felt cold except when it touched his wounds, and then it burned.

  ‘You can’t do this!’

  She said nothing. The stream stopped for a moment. The can made a hollow, buckling sound, and squirted again. She moved it back and forth, criss-crossing his chest, his belly.

  ‘What do you want?’

  The can made another popping sound. She aimed the fluid between his legs. It matted his pubic hair, splattered his limp penis, trickled down his scrotum.

  She walked away.

  ‘Where’re you going!’

  ‘To get the matches.’

  ‘No! Please! Oh my God, don’t! I’m sorry! I was just kidding about skinning you! Honest! I’m sorry! I’ll leave you alone, I promise! I’ll do anything! PLEASE!’

  She stopped and turned.

  ‘Tell me where to find Jack.’

  30

  SHE LEFT Tony tied to the chair. Rushing across her bedroom, she tossed the machete to the floor. She grabbed her handbag from the dresser and blew out the candle flames.

  In the living room, she scooped her robe off the flo
or. She shoved her arms into it as she raced for the workroom. Propped against the side wall beside the rake was a spade. She grabbed it.

  Then she was outside, sprinting across the cool wet grass, the robe fluttering behind her like a cape. At her car, she jerked open the handbag. She felt inside for the key case, couldn’t find it, crouched and dumped the contents on the driveway. She snatched her keys and billfold from the heap. Clamping the billfold under her arm, she snapped open the key case. She found the car key. It kept missing the lock hole. She held her hand steady with her other hand, and the key slipped in.

  She twisted it, tugged open the door and threw the shovel across the back seat. She flung herself behind the wheel and managed to fit the key into the ignition. The engine sputtered to life. She rammed the shift into reverse, remembered to shut the door but forgot to release the emergency brake. When she popped the clutch, the car lurched and died.

  Dani whimpered.

  She took the brake off. The car started rolling backwards. She turned the key and gunned the engine and sped down the driveway.

  Tony, still sobbing from the ordeal, squirmed on the chair. The ropes burnt into his arms and feet as he struggled. Though his arms seemed bound securely, he felt some give around his feet. He strained against the ropes. He kicked. The bindings seemed to loosen. Pressing his right ankle against the aluminum tubing of the chair leg, he drew his foot up. His heel squeezed out! He drew his knee up, and his foot slipped free.

  Using it to shove at the rope wrapped around his left foot, he had little trouble pulling loose.

  He thrust himself forward. The chair tipped onto its front legs. He stood, hunched over the chair pressed to his back and rump, and took a waddling step.

  If he could just get inside, get to the knife or machete . . . If he just had enough time, he knew he could cut himself free.

  Sweat and charcoal lighter streamed down his body as he took another step toward the house.

  Dani waited at the intersection with Laurel Canyon Boulevard. She moaned in frustration as the cars sped by. ‘Come on,’ she muttered, pounding the steering wheel with her palm.

  Finally, there was a break in the traffic. She shot out, tires whining as she swung to the left. Her foot shoved the accelerator to the floor.

  Thank God, the field where Tony left Jack wasn’t far away. Maybe a five minute drive.

  Five minutes.

  Each second must seem like forever, trapped in a coffin.

  How long could the air last? Not very long. Jack might already be . . .

  ‘Hang on,’ she said. ‘Please.’

  The traffic light on Mulholland turned red. The cars in front of Dani slowed down, stopped. She crept up close to the tail of the Rolls in front of her, pushed the brake pedal down, pressed her forehead to the steering wheel and wept.

  Tony had only taken a few short steps toward the sliding door of Dani’s bedroom when a voice said, ‘Hello.’ His head jerked sideways.

  A girl stepped away from the gate at the far side of the house. She wore a pale dress.

  ‘Help me,’ Tony called.

  ‘Sure.’ she said. ‘I’ll help you.’

  Something about the voice sent a chill through Tony. He tried to straighten up. The chair hit the backs of his knees. They buckled and he fell. The chair caught him, scooted back, tipped, but not enough to throw him over.

  Just this side of the barbeque, the girl paused. She squatted and stood up again. ‘I’ve been watching you,’ she said, slowly walking closer. ‘You had a very close call.’

  ‘The woman’s nuts. She was gonna kill me.’

  ‘I’m glad she didn’t.’

  ‘Untie me?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Please?’

  She shook her head. In the wavering light from the pool, her face looked familiar. ‘Who are you?’

  ‘Don’t you remember? The old Freeman house?’

  His heart thundered. He could barely breathe, but managed to gasp out, ‘Linda?’

  ‘You do remember.’

  ‘Wha . . . what are you doing here?’

  She didn’t answer.

  ‘Where’d you come from?’

  ‘Your hearse.’

  Twisting his head as far as he could, he saw her stoop down and pick up the tin of charcoal lighter.

  ‘Linda!’

  She stepped in front of him. She shook the container. In her left hand was a box of matches

  ‘Oh Jesus, don’t.’

  He kicked at her, but she simply stepped to the side of the chair, out of reach.

  Fuel squirted onto his head.

  ‘No! I never hurt you! Please! God, Linda, don’t! I never hurt you! I never hurt anyone!’

  The car bounced under Dani as she sped over the grassy field. She steered between two trees, turned sharply right to avoid another, and her headlights swept across the coffin.

  It was resting on the ground, no more than twenty feet ahead.

  Not buried at all!

  She leapt from the car and ran. Undergrowth stabbed her bare feet, bushes lashed her legs. A root tripped her. She fell sprawling and scurried up and ran and dropped to her knees beside the coffin. Her hands thrust into the piles of dirt on top. She flung her arms back and forth, smashing through the loose soil. It rained against her. She spit to clear her mouth. Then the lid was clear.

  She pounded on it. ‘Jack! Jack!’

  No answer.

  Along the rim of the lid were half a dozen metal wing-bolts. She grabbed one and began to unscrew it.

  A match flared, casting grotesque shadows over Linda’s face.

  ‘No! Come on!’ Tony rammed his feet against the concrete, shoving his chair backwards a few inches.

  Linda puffed out the match.

  ‘Please! I never meant any harm!’

  She struck another match. She took a step toward him. Whimpering, Tony thrust his chair further back. Linda flicked the match. Its flame drew a bright, curving mark through the air, went dark, and landed near his feet.

  He scooted back.

  Another match burst to life.

  ‘Please!’

  ‘Scared?’ Linda asked, holding out the match.

  ‘I’ll do anything!’

  ‘You’ve already done too much.’ The flame burned close to her fingers. ‘Tell me you’re scared.’

  ‘I’m scared!’

  She shook the match out, and lit another. ‘I was so scared I pissed myself.’

  ‘Okay!’ His muscles seemed too tight.

  Linda struck another match.

  ‘I’m trying!’ Then a hot stream was shooting out, splashing his legs. ‘There! See?’

  ‘Isn’t it fun?’ Linda asked, and tossed the match. The brilliant tear of flame arced toward him.

  Tony rammed his heels into the concrete. The chair jumped backwards. The match fell on his lap and he almost laughed in spite of the searing sting because it had gone out an instant before it touched him.

  But he didn’t laugh.

  He shrieked.

  He seemed to fall forever, screaming and kicking at the sky. Then the water silenced him.

  Dani tossed aside the final bolt and tugged at the coffin lid. She raised it a bit. Her fingers slipped and it thudded down. She grabbed it again and lifted. This time, it felt strangely light. It slid off, and she saw why it had moved so easily.

  Jack had helped.

  He sat up.

  Dani threw her arms around his head, hugging it to her breasts and sobbing.

  ‘I can’t breathe,’ said his muffled voice.

  Dani released him. Taking his arm, she helped him climb from the coffin. ‘Why didn’t you answer me?’ she asked.

  He shrugged. ‘Thought I was dreaming. I was having a fine dream till you dropped the lid.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘I’ll forgive you.’ Jack pulled her against him. His powerful body began to shake, and she heard him sobbing, too.

  For a long time, they held e
ach other.

  31

  ‘I GUESS he never really intended to kill me,’ Jack said. ‘Otherwise, he wouldn’t have drilled the air hole in the top. He must’ve cleaned it off after he piled the dirt on.’

  ‘Thoughtful of him,’ Dani muttered. She slowed down, and turned onto Asher Lane. ‘What’ll we do with him?’

  ‘Let the cops take care of it. Assault and battery, attempted rape, that oughta be enough to put him away for . . .’

  ‘Oh my God!’

  She stared ahead at the empty length of curb in front of her house.

  The hearse was gone.

  Jack squeezed her thigh. ‘Don’t worry. They’ll get him.’

  ‘I . . . it’s just that . . . I hoped it was over.’

  ‘It’s all right.’

  She pulled onto the driveway beside Jack’s Mustang. Climbing out, her foot came down on lipstick and a compact. She squatted down and started to load her handbag. Jack knelt beside her and helped. Then he put an arm around her. They walked to the front door.

  The house was silent, and dark except for the corridor lights.

  Dani frowned. She pointed.

  Tony’s blue slacks were draped over the back of a nearby chair, the pocket linings hanging out like pale tongues.

  ‘He must’ve been in quite a hurry,’ Jack said.

  They stepped over to the bar. As Jack phoned the police, Dani picked up the two bar stools she’d knocked over. She started to make drinks.

  Jack finished.

  Dani placed a vodka and tonic in his hand.

  ‘I want to propose a toast,’ he said, staring at her with solemn eyes. ‘To Ingrid.’

  ‘To Ingrid. The nicest gift anyone ever gave me. And certainly the most useful.’

  They clinked their glasses and sipped.

  ‘You never finished thanking me,’ Jack said.

  ‘I’ll have to thank Bruce, too. I feel so awful, giving him a hard time like that. I as much as called him incompetent for misplacing her that way.’

  ‘He was a good sport. Kept his cool. Didn’t give me away.’

  Dani nodded. ‘Well, why don’t we go ahead and fish her out?’

  They went outside. They walked to the edge of the pool, and Dani clutched Jack’s arm.

  Neither spoke.