There stood Lamar Tarlington looking in through the window at us.
Hey, you can smirk all you want! It was him! I saw the portrait in that bedroom and this was the exact same guy! He had that big black mustache, and slicked down hair, and his eyes were wide and staring like a crazy man…and they were staring at me and Laura like we were the scum of the earth. Dude, there was murder in those eyes!
Anyways, I’m standing there trying not to piss my pants when I hear the door behind me slam open. I almost jumped out of my freaking skin, and turned around to see Laura outside and running for the back gate before the door slammed shut again. She had left me all alone with that dead bastard! That’s a chick for you! Well, I sure as hell wasn’t going to wait around for him to come into the room and chat so I hit the door and took off after her.
Yeah, that’s right. I don’t care what everybody thought they saw. I wasn’t chasing her, I was running from the same guy! And she was screaming because of him, not me!
So I run out there and see that Laura had already reached the gate. That girl was flying! I didn’t know where else to go, so I took off for the back gate too. There wasn’t any way I was going back in that school building, and now it looked like I might be stuck in the same mess she was. That’s when I decided to follow her and get that pen back to the museum. To hell with scoring with Laura Taylor or showing up Barry Price, I was going to make sure it got back there for my own sake.
So I followed her out the gate and a good ways down Maple Street before I finally catch her. She’s gasping and blubbering and talking crazy, and I’m trying to get her to slow down and make sense. She wasn’t even talking in real words, just…what’s that word for it…oh yeah, gibberish. She’s just panting and crying and making sounds. I’ve never seen somebody that scared before, even a girl.
“Laura,” I yell at her. “Stop it! Which way is your house! We need to get that pen!”
She just keeps on blubbering and squeaking like she’s lost her mind. That’s when I decided to do what they do in the movies. I mean, if these weren’t hysterics…what were? Right? So I slapped her.
That’s right, I slapped her! Not punched her or threw her around like somebody must have told you I did, I just slapped her. And it worked. She got ahold of herself.
Then she slapped me back, which really pissed me off, but at least she stopped wheezing and freaking out.
“Laura! Focus! Where is your house from here? You got to get that pen, so I can take it back to the museum!”
“Wait,” she shakes her head. “You take the pen? But Barry…”
“Screw Barry! That chucklehead will just mess up again, or not take it back and say he did. Give me the pen and I’ll go straight to the museum and just hand them the damn thing. I’ll say somebody else took it and I’m returning it and that’s all they need to know. I’ll catch a little crap for it but I’m used to that. At least this way we know it will be back where it belongs and Tarlington will leave you alone.”
I could tell she was sorta hot about the way I was dissing Barry, but I could also see she was going to go along with it. Even though she would never admit it, the girl knew I was right and she was a lot better off having me do the deed instead of her pet idiot. Of course, right about then I also figured out she wasn’t ever going to thank me for any of it but I didn’t care about that anymore.
“Okayyyy…” She looked at me like she wasn’t sure about it. “But how will you get there. You don’t have a car.”
“I’ll walk. It’ll take a couple of hours but that still gets the pen back before it even gets close to being dark. You can go along with me, or go sit in some restaurant or something like that where there’s a lot of people around you. Give me your number and I’ll call you when the deed is done.”
She was nodding along with me as I talked and I knew that was the way it was going to go down. I also knew she would be staying at the restaurant but, like I said, I didn’t care anymore. I just wanted out.
“Okay.” Laura keeps nodding and seems to be getting more in control of herself. “Okay, we’ll do it your way. My house is this way. It’s only a couple of more blocks.”
We start walking again and turn the corner to head down Wallace street. I can tell she’s eager to get home now because she’s looking ahead of her like a horse headin’ for the barn. Yeah, that’s an expression my Grandpa used to use, but it’s the best way to describe it. Anyways, it’s just as well she was because I look back to see if anybody was around to watch our little scene in the street and guess who I see…
Lamar Tarlington.
That dead bastard was watching us from the house at the intersection behind us! He was following us!
No, seriously! You know that blue house with the tall roof on the corner of Maple and Wallace? It has this big picture window in the front of it, and Lamar Tarlington was standing in it, big as life! And this time there wasn’t no way it was anybody else. He was wearing that same suit he has on in the portrait. Oh yeah, and the cleaver. What Laura was calling a really big knife was one of those huge butcher cleavers you see in some of those old movies. Probably the same one he used to kill those kids.
*Note: The weapon Lamar Tarlington used in his murders was never recovered, so this is purely speculation on the part of the suspect.
I almost crapped my pants again, because there he is glaring out at us the same way he was back at the school. He was standing there like he was both pissed and… inevitable…or something. I don’t know how to say it better than that. It’s more like the look of somebody who thinks he’s a whole world better than you and you’re just a little piece of trash that got in his way somehow. There’s anger in it, but something else too. All I know is I’m fighting not to start crying and blubbering like Laura had been, but I don’t say nothing to her and I just keep her headed for her house instead. If she had seen that, I’m pretty sure she would have just sat down right then and never stopped screaming.
But she didn’t see it. And because she hadn’t seen him since coming out of the school, her nerves were starting to settle a little as we got closer to her house. She pointed it out to me as we got closer and I could see she was even beginning to get a little excited. I guess she was starting to believe that everything was going to turn out okay in her little world, like it always had before. And why not? I’m sure she was used to guys stepping up and making everything better. That’s just the way life worked for her.
Thinking about that is when I realized why she didn’t choose to hide in the girl’s bathroom back at school.
So we reach her place and she’s all excited, and I’m getting mad because I’m just beginning to understand how I got dragged into this thing.
Hell yeah, I was getting mad. Wouldn’t you? I was about to be running across town with a dead psychopath on my tail, all because some jackass was too cheap to buy a bimbo a real birthday present. And she hadn’t gone into that bathroom to hide…she had gone in looking for a sucker to play white knight and I stepped up like a real chump. Hell, I even volunteered for the run after knowing what was going on because I didn’t have a choice anymore.
There ought to be a law against cheerleaders.
So she fishes a key out from under a little frog statue in the front hedge, then looks all sneaky-like at me like she wishes I hadn’t seen her do it. Seriously, is there a burglar alive who wouldn’t have looked under the frog? Anyways, I could tell she was even thinking about leaving me out in the yard while she went inside but I guess she realized that might have been pushing her luck.
“Hey, Corvin?” She acts all awkward. “Look. I’m going to run to my bedroom and get the pen. You wait for me in the living room, okay?”
“Sure.”
Hell, I really didn’t care if she left me in the yard at that point. After seeing Tarlington again, all I wanted was to get that pen and start hoofing it for the museum.
She opened the door and we went inside. We go into the living room, which I notice is pretty nice. T
hey obviously weren’t rich, but it sure beat the hell out of the dump I live in. They had nice couches, a carpet without a trail wore into it, and one of those big screen TVs that makes an Xbox worth having.
“I’ll be right back,” she says and heads down the hall.
I walk over to the fireplace and look at the pictures on the mantelpiece while she goes to do her business. They’re the usual stuff…family portrait, vacation shots, a picture of a wiener dog in a heart shaped frame…and there’s a couple of cool looking knick-knacks as well. I spot this little clock made out of glass so you can see all the gears turning inside, so I pick it up for a closer look.
That’s when Laura started screaming.
I had already heard her scream before that day, but this was different. This scream didn’t just sound like her being scared…it sounded like somebody who was scared, hopeless, and not wanting to believe it all at the same time. I figure that’s the way some people in a car wreck scream right before the collision and they can see the truck filling up the windshield.
Before I even think about it I’ve dropped the clock and I’m running down the hallway and toward all the screaming. It’s coming from behind the left door at the end of the hall, and I figure that’s her bedroom. Don’t ask me why she closed the door. Maybe it’s a chick thing.
Anyways, the door was closed and she was screaming like a banshee so I didn’t even slow down but just busted in at a full run. I bash through, go stumbling in, and I’m halfway across the room and almost on top of her before I can stop. And then I’m screaming when I almost didn’t because she’s standing by this dresser, next to her closet…
And her head is gone!
I mean it, man! Her head was gone! Her body was just standing there twitching with her hands up in the air like they had gone to grab her head to keep it from coming off or something. There was blood pumping up out of her neck like a fountain and running down her neck and shoulders. Then her body sort of stumbles and turns toward me with her hands still up and shaking, and then it falls right into me. Man, I’m screaming like a little girl now, and I fall down and start crawling backwards to get away from the thing.
It just lays there and flops for a second, and then it doesn’t move anymore. I’ve got her blood all over me, and I think right about then I started to understand what fainting was all about. I seriously thought I was going to for a second…but that’s when I realize I can still hear her screaming!
So I look back up from the floor, over her body, and that’s when I nearly pass out again. Hell, I nearly died right on the spot to be honest.
Her closet door had this door-length mirror on it, and there stood Lamar Tarlington looking back at me.
He’s still got that wild, angry look and those wide eyes, and now he’s glaring down at me. I can’t even make a sound now, like my throat is locked up or something. Then he raises his hand and he’s got Laura’s head hanging from it by her hair.
And it’s still screaming!
I mean it! She was looking right at me through the mirror and still screaming, even though she was just a head and should have died. I could tell she could see me and wanted me to help her, but what the hell could I do? And he stands there holding her head up like he wants to be sure I get a good look at it, while he stuffs this big bloody cleaver he’s holding in his other hand into his belt.
Then he raises his other hand up beside her head and holds up three fingers. He stares at me and does this for about ten seconds. Then he just slings her head over his shoulder like a sack, and turns and walks past the edge of the mirror and out of sight…like he’s heading for the bedroom door.
I couldn’t do nothing but lay there for a minute, listening to her screaming getting further and further away. Then I heard a door slam and the screaming stopped.
That’s when I realize I’m all alone with a dead body. Then I really freak out.
I jumped up and ran out of the room, banging my face on the door when I jerked it back open. Then I hoofed it out of that house without looking back. I mean, what the hell else was I supposed to do? She was gone and there wasn’t anything I could do for her. And I sure as hell wasn’t hanging around to see if he was coming back.
So that’s what really happened. That’s what her neighbors saw when I came running out covered in blood. I was there, but I didn’t do it!
And no, I don’t have any idea where her’s or Barry’s heads are. But I bet you’re never going to find them, because I don’t think they’re in the world anymore…at least not on this side of the glass. See, that’s what I figured out last night while laying there in my cell. Every time I saw him, he was on the other side of a window or a mirror. Same thing when Laura saw him in class. That’s where he exists now…or his ghost…or whatever…
But if you get too close, he can still reach out and get you.
So there it is, dude. I can tell you don’t believe me. Hell, I was there and I don’t believe me, but that’s still the way it is. I can’t do nothing about it. But I didn’t kill those two, and I ain’t confessing to nothing I didn’t do.
So you can take your superior smile and shove it right up to where the sun don’t shine.
This concludes the statement of Corvin Bradshaw.
A combination of fingerprints, blood spatter evidence, and shoe print analysis conclusively puts him at the scene of the second murder at the time of death. Whether he was there as the assailant, an accomplice, or as a witness is still open to conjecture. He did not have the murder weapon when apprehended.
He has a solid alibi in regards to the murder of Barry Price. He was across town, riding the bus to school in the full view of about twenty witnesses, when Barry’s decapitated body was found in his bathroom on the floor in front of the sink.
A call to the museum established the existence of just such a pen as described by the suspect. But after a quick check, the staff reported it still occupied its place on the vanity dresser in Lamar Tarlington’s bedroom.
At this time the investigation proceeds on the assumption that Corvin Bradshaw is either an accomplice or a mentally unsound witness. Psychological testing is scheduled to attempt to determine his state of mind and whether he would be fit to stand trial. It is worth noting that his violent aversion to both mirrors and windows seems to be quite genuine.
So far, neither head has been recovered.
Dance of the Ancients
January 1, 1954
Three grim men sat in the front of the fog shrouded boat, their rifles pointed skyward.
Sheriff Carl Gartner squinted through the mist at the approaching shadow of the island once called Deerhunter Hill. The water around it only reached four or five feet deep at the present but, as Lake Hallisboro filled up behind its new dam, the low hill was doomed to disappear beneath the waves. Unlike some of the other places destined to vanish under the growing lake, Carl wouldn’t be sorry to see it go.
The Sheriff shook his head in disgust at the way things worked out.
It could have all gone so much easier.
The rising water meant the inevitable eviction of a backwoods nuisance who had been a thorn in his butt for the past ten years. If only people had left things alone, the water would have done all the work for him. No fuss, no muss. But then that state trooper showed up waving an eviction notice, and when Carl showed little interest in delivering it had decided to take matters into his own hands.
And never came back.
“Idiot,” the graying Sheriff sighed at the approaching shore. “We could all be home watching the Cotton Bowl instead of slogging around in this mess. Hell, Martha even made deviled eggs so I could eat’em while I watched the game. Les, if we find that jackass alive, your job is to get him away from me as fast as possible… because if Luther hasn’t shot his damn fool head off, I’m gonna be awful tempted to do it myself.”
“Don’t look at me,” Deputy Les Patterson drawled, “Kathy’s had this grand experiment going with a soufflé she read about in one of those wome
n’s magazines before you pulled me out here. As far as she’s concerned, somebody better be dead for me not to be there to ooh and ah over it when it’s done.”
Sheriff Gartner considered that, then nodded in sage agreement before turning to the younger of the two deputies.
“Well, Pete,” he groused, “now you see why this job ain’t a married man’s way to make a livin’. It ain’t bad enough we might have Luther Cole shootin’ at us, we get to look forward to havin’ our ears pinned back when we get home too.”
Carl chuckled inside at the way the kid looked back and forth between him and the older deputy. He knew the young man was having a hard time understanding how he and Les could be griping about ballgames and wives when they could be heading into a potential shootout. The youngster probably wondered if they were both crazy. The Sheriff sorta felt bad for him, but he understood the kid would have to figure this one out for himself or find a new line of work.
“Hey, Earl,” the Sheriff called back to the local mechanic whose boat they were borrowing, “might want to slow down some more. We got trees coming up, and a lot of them are out in the water now.
Deerhunter Hill had once been a forested prominence where the San Lupo river joined Hollow Creek. Its vaguely trapezoidal shape led many locals to believe it was an ancient Indian mound of some kind, but the state geologist who green lighted the dam project dismissed it as a natural formation. So the dam went forward, and the waters rose. Now the low hill rose out of the water like a tree crusted behemoth in the mist.
Sheriff Gartner motioned to the mechanic to stop the boat and the craft drifted to a halt about twenty feet from the tree line.
“Whatcha thinking, Carl?” Les studied the fog shrouded trees.
“I’m thinking whatever happened here is already old news, so we ought to circle the island first and see if we can find the trooper’s boat.”
“Makes sense. You want go ashore there?”
Shades: Eight Tales of Terror Page 5
