The Revenant: A Horror in Dodsville

by Brian L. Blank

  "He didn't come around for two whole weeks," Tabitha added. "And then only because Julie went and got him."

  "Reed tried to call Stephen on the phone, and even go over to his house to see him, but Stephen refused to talk to Reed," Julie said. "And after I tried calling him on the phone with no success . . . well, I marched right over to his house to get him." She laughed again. "And boy was he embarrassed when I tucked him under my arm and carried him halfway down the block. That was certainly the deepest shade of red I had ever seen him."

  Tabitha laughed and was about to add something to the story, but she stopped short. Detective Pierce was approaching them, and he had only left a few minutes earlier. He had someone with him, too. A grim man in his forties wearing an expensive suit walked alongside Pierce. Someone awfully rich, Tabitha thought sullenly, and by that glaze in his eyes, someone a bit more than a little pissed. And she could only guess whom he was pissed at.

  "Great," Sly said when he noticed Pierce. "I thought we got rid of him for a while."

  The smile quickly vanished from Julie's face, but she didn't say anything. The eyes of the man with Pierce worried her. He was trouble.

  As the detective walked up to the group in front of Stephen's room, he broke into that smile that Stephen had always hated. "Here is half of the foursome that was staying at your ex-wife's house," he said to the man with him. He pointed to Tabitha and Sly, introducing them. "And we can't forget Julie Price, either," he added. "She wasn't staying with them, but she's into this right up to her behind." His grin widened a bit, like someone who had finally passed the gas that had knotted up his stomach. "And this," he said, referring to the man with him, "is Meyer Klaus. Maybe you recognize that last name. He used to be married to--"

  "Yea, yea," Sly interrupted. "We can figure it out."

  Meyer Klaus only glared at the threesome for a minute. Then he paced back and forth in front of them three times, as though he were in the courtroom searching for the perfect question. Finally, he stopped, turning to face Sly. "What the hell did you do to my wife and daughter?" he asked in a dangerous, narrowed voice.

  Sly stood, not liking the way Klaus was looking down at him. "Now just hang on one minute here," he said. "You don't know the whole story, so don't go throwing around accusations until you know the facts."

  The muscles in Klaus's face flexed and strained, giving him the appearance of a man in the middle of a five-mile run. "I've heard your flimsy story on why you were staying at my house," he challenged. "Considering the fact that you claim my wife gave you permission two days after she was murdered, I'd think of a better cover if I were you."

  Sly was tempted to remind Klaus that the house was no longer his and the woman murdered no longer his wife, but withheld. The man in front of him could stir up quite the load of trouble. Though, he wasn't about to stand there and say nothing.

  "Well, someone sure as hell gave us permission," he said, stepping a little closer to Klaus. Their faces were less than a foot apart now. "Because someone met us at the gate and gave us the keys."

  "You could easily have taken the keys off of Rhonda's body after you killed her."

  A nurse hurried down the hallway toward the group. "Will you people either quiet down or take it elsewhere," she said coldly. "You are in a hospital, for Pete’s sake."

  Pierce assured the woman that he would see to it that things remained under control, and apologized. The nurse gave him a doubtful look, but relented. "However," she said, "if I have to come back here just one more time, I'll see to it the bunch of you are thrown out of here. You understand?"

  Sly and Klaus said they were sorry and that it wouldn't happen again.

  Julie stood as the nurse returned to her station. "Someone, a woman and a little girl, asked us to stay at her house," she said, standing next to Sly and putting her arm around him. "She wanted us to stay there a week and . . . and see if anything strange was going on." She just couldn't tell them Mrs. Klaus thought her mansion was haunted--that, now, sounded utterly ridiculous. "We did think it was strange, but she offered to pay us a lot of money to do it. So . . . we accepted her offer."

  Klaus shook his head in disbelief. "That's the same line of crap that O'Neal told me," he said, his voice lowered, but still filled with anger. "I didn't believe him then, and I don't believe you now. I know Rhonda. She wouldn't ever allow strangers in her house, especially while she was out. And I mean no one. She even hated it when I used to entertain friends at the house."

  "Then someone went to elaborate and painstaking plans to set us up," Sly said, speaking now with a rationalizing tone of voice. "Someone wanted us to look guilty."

  Pierce thought that "somebody" was in the room next to them in a coma. "Could you identify this woman and child who met you at the gate?" he asked. O'Neal had accomplices, he thought. And when the woman and child that were helping him were positively identified not as Rhonda and Clair Klaus, then he could set to his task of nailing O'Neal's behind to the wall.

  "Of course," Sly replied. Julie nodded.

  Klaus dug his wallet out of his inside pocket of his suit. He pulled a photo out of it and passed the photograph to Pierce. Pierce looked at it briefly, nodded, and handed it to Sly.

  There were three people in the picture: the man standing before Sly in a suit, and the two persons who met them at the front gate of the mansion. "No doubt about it," he said and handed the picture to Julie. Tabitha stood and looked at the photograph along with her.

  "That's definitely them," Julie said. "The woman in this picture came to our house only three days ago and we saw both her and her little girl again a day later at the mansion."

  "That's them," Sly said. "No doubt about it."

  "It is," Tabitha added, and sat back down. All of a sudden she wasn't feeling all too well.

  Klaus snatched the photograph out of Julie's hand. "I want these people arrested," he said to Pierce. "And I want them locked up behind bars for a long time."

  Pierce barely heard what Klaus had said. He hadn't expected this. They were to say that the persons in the picture were, in fact, not the persons who asked them to stay at the mansion. Milhaus had been positive that the bodies were four days dead. Now, he has a group of witnesses in front of him that claim they were alive and talking only two days ago.

  "I can't do that just yet," he replied to Klaus.

  "Why not?" Klaus demanded. "Didn't you hear what they just said? Doesn't that prove their guilt?"

  "I'm not all that sure they're guilty of anything." There was only one other possible explanation that Pierce could think of--two people dressed up to look like the deceased pair. "I still think that O'Neal set them up." He turned to Sly. "I think we need to see the bodies close up," he said. "Pictures don't always have the exact details. If you saw the bodies, you would know for sure."

  "I don't think I want to do that," Tabitha said from her chair. Her face had taken on a chalky appearance.

  "That's all right, Tabby," Julie said. "Sly and I can go." She looked to Pierce for conformation.

  "Fine with me," Pierce said. "But I don't want you or the Anderson girl to leave town. Understand?"

  Tabitha nodded, but didn't bother looking up at him.

  "All right, then," Pierce said, though he didn't feel like things were all right. Not even close. "Let's go."

  Tabitha breathed a sigh of relief as they disappeared down the corridor. Her stomach even felt better. But, she thought, what is taking Melissa so long?

  * * *

  Ten minutes later Pierce's station wagon turned into the parking lot at the coroner's offices. At first, he had taken Julie, Sly, and Klaus to the Wendt Funeral Home, fully expecting the bodies to have been delivered there. Much to Pierce's dismay, they had not.

  "It's not my fault," the mortician had said when Pierce exploded in anger. "I even tried calling Milhaus to see what was taking him. Another night and those bodies are going to--" He was about to say that the bodies would start to rot, but, seeing the look on Klaus'
s face when he began the statement, he wisely changed his mind. "Anyway," he continued, "the phones must be out over there, because I didn't get through."

  The rain had tapered off somewhat by the time Pierce pulled the station wagon to a stop next to the coroner's car. But the sky remained dark, but more because the sun was setting than because of the thickness of the clouds overhead. The lightning and thundering had ceased altogether, along with the wind, and now only a steady light downpour fell from the skies. No lights were visible in the building in front, giving it the appearance that no one was home. Yet, Milhaus's Grand Am still rested in the parking lot.

  "You three stay in the car," Pierce said, not liking the queasy feeling in his stomach. Something was wrong. "I just want to make sure we're not walking into something we really shouldn't be."

  Klaus sighed heavily, to show his displeasure. "This is starting to--"

  "Just stay here," Pierce snapped, leaving no room for further debate. "I'll be back in a minute."

  Klaus glared at Pierce, started to give his rebuttal, but thought better of it and turned his attention out his side window. "Just hurry," he said softly. "This has been a long day."

  The front office was ominously dark, even though there was an open window in the room. Pierce could feel his pulse rate increase. He found the light switch on the wall next to the entrance, flicked it on, and sighed when nothing happened. The semi-darkness prevailed.

  "Milhaus," he called out, though feebly. "You here?"

  Nothing replied but the sound of water dripping off the roof outside.

  He reluctantly started for the examining room, where he had been earlier in the day--with the two deceased bodies. The door was closed, so he knocked softly, as if not wanting to wake the dead. He silently wished he were at his motel room right now, drinking a can of Coors, and watching a Cub’s game on the tube.

  There was no sound other than his own unsteady breathing. The door was unlocked and it opened with a slight creak, momentarily breaking the silence. Since there was no window or outside door leading into this room, it was darker than the front office and hallway. The only light that entered was that from behind Pierce, allowing him to see just the faint outlines of the objects within.

  Pierce waited a minute, hoping his eyes would adjust to the dimness in front of him. "You in here, Milhaus?" he asked in a voice that was only slightly louder than a whisper. He hoped he would get no reply. He felt his bowels would liquefy if someone did.

  No one disappointed him.

  Upon entering the room, Pierce first noticed the two tables the bodies had been on. The sheets were there, rumpled, and resting peacefully at the bottom of the slabs. Much to Pierce's relief, there was no sign of Rhonda Klaus and her daughter. He sighed as every muscle in his own body relaxed.

  But that feeling of relief was short-lived.

  Just as he was turning around to leave the room and head back outdoors, he caught sight of a hand sticking out from the corner of one of the legs on the far table. Even in the lack of proper lighting, there could be no mistake. That was most definitely a hand.

  Pierce slowly walked toward the hand, and more of the body became visible. Lying on the floor, not looking at all well, was the body of the coroner. Pierce bent down to take Milhaus's pulse, not expecting to find one. He was not surprised. The coroner was dead.

  The fluorescent lights flickered a moment, then hummed back to life, illuminating the examination room to its fullest. Sighing a praise of thanks to whatever god was responsible, Pierce knelt down next to Milhaus for a closer examination. The front of the body was soaked with blood, and after Pierce opened the shirt, he saw the reason why. Milhaus had been stabbed three times. The same M.O. as the other three murders: there was one wound just above the navel, and two more in the chest--one each in both nipples.

  Pierce sighed and stood. If things looked bleak before, now they looked twice as bad. All of his suspects had iron clad alibis. O'Neal was in a car wreck, now resting in a coma at the hospital. Tabitha Price, Melissa Anderson, and Sly Williams were with him the entire afternoon. That left only Julie Price: she hadn't shown at the station until much later. Just maybe. . . . No, now he was grasping at straws. But, yet . . .

  The phones were working again, and he called Ryan from the front office to tell him what he had found. After he hung up, he stepped outside and waved for the three in the car to come on in. At least until Ryan showed, he would have to stay.

  "What's going on?" Klaus asked as soon as he stepped through the door.

  Pierce didn't really know what to say. They didn't teach this part of the job in any of the classes he had taken. So, maybe he should just tell the truth, see their reactions. "I not sure how to say this," he said. "But there has been another murder."

  "Who?" Sly asked. Julie and Klaus simply stared at Pierce with empty expressions.

  "The coroner, Agnus Milhaus," Pierce replied, wishing that Sheriff Ryan would hurry up and get there. "And what's more is that the bodies of Rhonda and Clair Klaus have been stolen." He winced, in preparation for Klaus's response.

  But Klaus didn't say anything. His eyes dropped and his upper body sagged, but no words were forthcoming.

  "I'm going to wait outside," Julie said and headed for the exit.

  "Wait one minute," Pierce said, stopping her. Julie turned around and faced him. "If you don't mind, that is."

  "What?" she said, folding her arms. "You going to ask me if I did it?"

  "Well," Pierce said, gearing for an outburst. "Where were you this afternoon from, say, one until three?"

  "Now you wait a minute," Sly said, moving between Julie and the detective. "I don't believe this. You expect to blame this on--"

  "Just answer the question, if you would," Pierce said.

  Julie brushed past Sly. "It's all right," she said to him. Then to Pierce: "Today I worked until about one-thirty. Then I went home, kicked off my shoes, and watched my soaps. That's were I stayed until I received your phone call, and I went straight to your office."

  "Was your father at home?" Pierce asked.

  "No."

  "Anyone there at all to verify your alibi?"

  "It's no alibi," Julie said. "It's the plain, simple truth."

  "In other words, you have no alibi?"

  Sly had held back as long as he could. "Now just wait a blasted minute," he said. "You're getting a little carried away with this aren't you, Detective?"

  "Just trying to establish where everyone was." Pierce replied. "That is what they pay me for."

  Klaus, who had been quiet throughout the interchange between Pierce, Julie and Sly, suddenly stepped forward. "Where are my wife and child?" he asked, almost contritely.

  "Good question," Pierce replied. "Though I suspect that whoever murdered Milhaus took them."

  "Why?" Klaus asked. "And why did he leave behind the coroner?"

  "Again a good question." Pierce looked from face to face. "Anybody here have an answer?"

  "This is insane," Sly said, shaking his head. "This is just plain insane."

  "That it is," Pierce replied, watching as the sheriff's car turned into the parking lot. "That it is."

  * * *

  Tabitha stuck her head into Stephen's room. Melissa was seated next to the bed, her face buried in her hands. "You all right?" she asked, slipping surreptitiously into the room and closing the door softly behind her.

  Melissa looked up. She had stopped crying, but her eyes were still watery and her cheeks red. "He just lies there," she replied. "I feel so helpless."

  Tabitha walked up beside her and took her first good look at Stephen. "Wow," she said softly. "Look at that bruise."

  Melissa didn't say anything.

  "I think I'm going to give Stephen's grandmother a call to see when she's coming and prepare her for this," Tabitha said at length. She put her arm around Melissa. "He is going to be all right," she said. "You know that, don't you?"

  Melissa looked up at her and forced a smile.

&nbs
p; Tabitha left and Melissa took Stephen's hand in her own. "Make it," she whispered, squeezing his hand firmly.

  Stephen groaned. His eyes fluttered a moment, and then popped wide open.

  Melissa bit her lower lip. She had heard that persons in comas sometime opened their eyes and even moved, and it not meaning anything.

  Stephen's brown eyes rocked in his head for a few seconds, as if they were unattached and trying to find something to grab hold of. Finally they settled on gazing at Melissa. A look of confusion washed over them.

  "Stephen?" Melissa asked, trying not to get her hopes up, but her heart fluttered in her chest anyway. She squeezed his hand harder.

  Another groan escaped his mouth. His left arm lifted two inches off the mattress, hung there a second, and dropped back down, as if the added weight of the cast was too much to handle.

  Stephen's head was killing him. Not quite as bad as the migraines he suffered from periodically as a young teenager, but very close. Too damn close, he thought, and just the strain of thinking caused another groan. The entire left side of his body ached dully, but an acute pain had shot up his arm when he had tried to feel his head. His left arm most likely, he thought demurely, was broken.

  "Are you with us, Stephen?" a voice asked in the room. A voice that sounded so familiar, yet he couldn't place it.

  He tried to focus, but, at first, failed. Nothing but a dull, hazy whiteness broken by a few darker blurry objects. Even if he wasn't wearing his contact lenses his eyesight was much better than this. Someone squeezed his right hand. He turned in that direction, saw the dark blur of a human being, and tried again to focus. Her hair was the first thing he recognized, followed by her eyes. He knew her.

  "Melissa?" he croaked. As his eyes came more toward a focus, he looked past her and saw the machine with the tubes. And those tubes were running toward his body. He was in a bed; that was for sure. But where? "Where am I?" he asked, turning his attention back to Melissa. Her holding his right hand felt strangely comforting.

  "Shhh," Melissa replied, reaching for the button that would call a nurse. "Don't talk."