"Oh, and are you?" She put her hand on his shoulder. "It is about time you get back in the saddle. That devil of a woman who broke your heart last--”
"Where are you staying?" he asked. He didn't know why he had avoided her last question. He knew he wasn't after Tabitha. He simply didn't want to talk about the women in his life at the present time.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN:
Appearances
Sly was the last to arrive at Julie's apartment; he was a half hour late. Night had already settled upon Dodsville as he parked his rented Grand Prix a block and a half away. He pressed the lock on his driver's side and shut the door softly. The time was still too early for the neighbors to have retired for the day, and the less attention to himself the better. He breathed in the heavy night air and let it out slowly. He had lost his control, slightly, when the news first broke about the Klauses being murdered, but now he felt at ease with the situation. They were doing something. Not much, but he felt a tingling sensation in spite of the heat.
A dark, gray sedan was parked under a streetlight on the opposite side of the street from Julie's, down the block about halfway. Sly kept to the hedges, noticing a man inside of the car, reading a newspaper.
"Simpleton," Sly said with a wry smile. The man in the sedan was obviously one of Pierce's cronies sent to trail the group. Sly knew they would slip past him with ease. Julie had come up with the infallible idea of propping up a couple of dummies in front of the drapes, so their shadows could be seen from outside.
He crept around to the rear entrance and let himself in.
"What took you?" Julie asked, only slightly annoyed, when Sly walked into the living room. Julie, along with Tabitha and Melissa, was watching a repeat of Wings.
"I drove out to the airport and rented a car," Sly replied, sitting across from her. "Figured we'd have much less a chance in being discovered."
Julie forgave him. "There's some leftover chili on the stove. Only takes me a minute to heat it for you, if you're hungry."
Sly held up a protesting hand. "No thanks! I've been drinking water all day to quench the fire in my stomach from eating your chili for lunch."
"Do you think we could get on the move, here?" Tabitha said. "I'm getting more nervous by the second."
Melissa stood and straightened out her pants legs. "So," she said, "the idea is pretty much settled that someone framed us by having us stay out at the mansion."
"Of course, we can't know that for sure," Sly replied. "If Rhonda and Clair Klaus were actually killed two days prior to our seeing them, then someone must have dressed to look like them. The only question, if that is the case, is why us?"
"The answer must be out at the mansion," Tabitha said, as she put on a windbreaker over her brown shirt. "Maybe after tonight we'll know a lot more than we do now."
"Which is nothing," Sly said.
"What exactly are we hoping to find at the mansion, anyway?" asked Melissa. She, too, was wearing a dark windbreaker. "After all, what is there left that we didn't see when we stayed there?"
"That's the same question Stephen asked me earlier," Sly replied. "But there are a lot of rooms in that house we didn't venture into or look through thoroughly. Now, what we can expect to find, I don't know. All I do know is that we cannot sit around and wait for Mr. Klaus to press charges against us."
"Shall we hit the road?" Julie suggested. She tested a flashlight by turning it off and on a couple of times. "It is plenty dark outside."
They set up the two dummies used for CPR instruction that Julie had borrowed from the hospital in front of the living room drapes, so their shadows were cast onto the fabric. Then they each grabbed their flashlight and headed out the back door.
Sly went around to the front of the house to check on their guardian angel. The sedan and its driver were still innocently parked under the light. Sly couldn't help but laugh. Their tail was no longer reading the newspaper; his attention was riveted on the front of Julie's apartment.
"All clear," he said after he returned to the group waiting for him in the backyard. "He doesn't suspect a thing."
Melissa and Tabitha giggled like a pair of junior high girls sneaking out to meet a couple of boys.
They cut through the backyards of the neighbors until they reached the house that Sly's car was parked. Quietly, they stole out onto the street, into the car, and drove away, in the opposite direction of the policeman.
While the foursome was sneaking behind the houses on Julie's block, Stephen stared solemnly out his hospital room window. The moon was visible from where he sat, but occasional flashes of lightning lit up the western horizon beyond it. His grandmother sat in a chair next to him.
"So, what are your friends up to tonight?" she asked, after watching Stephen's longing eyes for a few minutes.
"What do you mean by that?" he replied, breaking out of his reverie.
"Your friends are up to something tonight," she replied. "And don't go denying it, either."
"What makes you think that they're up to anything at all tonight?" He turned completely around in his chair, wincing from the pain in his side.
"Oh, I remember that glint in your eyes when you weren't allowed out of the house, while your buddies were out gallivanting around town."
Stephen only looked back at her, quickly trying to think of something to say.
"Come on," Mrs. O'Neal said, cajoling. "What are your friends up to?"
"Yes, Stephen," Detective Pierce said, appearing in the open doorway. "Do tell us."
The foursome arrived in front of the Klaus mansion, and Sly pulled up to the gate blocking the entrance to the driveway. Mrs. Klaus, or whoever it was who met them here what seemed an eternity ago, had given Stephen a set of keys, plus two more that opened any outside lock. The police found Stephen's set in his wrecked camaro and one of the two extra keys in the house. They didn't know about the remaining one that Sly now brandished in his right hand.
He unlocked the front gate and swung it open, waving for Julie to drive through. "Park it under the oak on the side of the house," he instructed as she pulled up next to him. "It won't be seen from the road there, nor if someone comes up the driveway for whatever reason. Then meet me at the front door."
"All right, captain," Julie said with a salute. She drove up the driveway a ways, and then turned off onto the lawn.
Lightning flashed in the distance. The sky was still clear above, but the day had been hot and humid; and a good old-fashioned Midwestern thunderstorm approached from the southwest. Sly walked back out onto the boulevard and looked back down the street in the direction they had come. He waited a minute, making sure no one had followed them. He understood that this little excursion was more dangerous than the other three realized. If caught, they were in hot water, which would take a long time in cooling. A dog barked from the next mansion, a quarter of a mile away. Someone yelled out a window or door for it to be quiet. It barked two more times with less enthusiasm, as if having to get in the last word, and was silent.
The girls awaited Sly at the front door, not saying a word as he walked up the driveway toward them. He wondered demurely if they were doing the right thing or not; yet he realized they had to do something. The situation could explode in their faces any day now. Each of the girls held a flashlight in her hand; Julie had two and handed one to Sly when he finally climbed the steps to her.
Before he unlocked the front door, so they could begin their search, Sly had a few things to say. The moon was still in front of the storm and gave off enough light for them to see one another. "Listen," Sly said calmly. "We can't be heard from the street, so don't worry about yelling if you happen on something. But under no circumstances turn on a light, and never shine your flashlight directly at a window. The neighbors know that no one should be in here and will most likely inform the police if they see anything suspicious.
"To save time we will divide into pairs; each pair taking a floor. Julie will come with me, and you two will be a team. We'll take the s
econd story. Stephen, whether or not it actually happened, claimed he discerned some strange goings-on in his room. It may be worth checking out . . . then again it may not be. On the first floor, Stephen, again, thought there something strange about the locked room that wasn't really locked. Check it--"
"It was locked," Melissa interrupted in Stephen's defense. "I was there. And someone spoke, too. We thought he said for Stephen to stay away from someone. At the time we thought it might have been Randy telling him to stay away from Tabitha. But no one was inside."
Tabitha shifted uncomfortable, but didn't reply.
"We're not here to look for aberrations anymore," Sly continued. A long, low roar of thunder added drama to his speech. "We are here to find anything that may give us a clue to what is really going on in this town." He paused momentarily to let a louder roar of thunder pass. "And to us. The point is, someone could have been playing a trick on the two of you. Look for a tape recorder, or anything along that line."
Melissa and Tabitha nodded in unison.
Lightning flashed closer, and this time the thunder arrived at it heels. The moon slowly disappeared under the leading edge of the storm, leaving the foursome on the steps in virtual darkness. Stars were still visible to the east. The west was dark and ominous, until a stroke of lightning illuminated it, only to show the tangle of thunderheads. The wind picked up suddenly, blowing the hair into their eyes. Melissa's and Tabitha's windbreakers flapped nervously about them.
"If someone should drive up," Sly continued, speaking more loudly to be heard above the wind, "they probably won't see our car. Just find a good hiding place and wait until they leave. Hopefully, we won't have to worry about that."
Sly unlocked the door and held it open for the girls to enter. He followed, relocking the door behind him. He glanced out the small window, which acted as a one-way mirror to see who was ringing in case of an unexpected visitor. The yard was dark and silent.
They turned their flashlights on almost in unison.
"Shall we meet at the bottom of the staircase in, say, about an hour?" Julie asked. There was a hint of edginess in her voice.
They agreed, stood in silence for a few seconds, and went their separate ways.
"I feel like Nancy Drew," said Julie as she and Sly climbed the spiral staircase. "And you're one of the Hardy boys."
Sly didn't have anything to say in reply. The mansion was intensely quiet. Even the grandfather clock made no sounds of life, as no one had been in to rewind it. As the two climbed up the steps, the lights from their flashlights bobbed up and down, causing shadows to bounce balefully in front of them. A sudden burst of thunder rattled everything that wasn't bolted down, and Sly jumped.
"This is madness," he said as he stood on the last step. "All those stories Stephen told us about his childhood adventures must have affected my mind. And, hopefully, only temporarily."
Julie laughed, though tentatively. "But you have to admit this is better than sitting home in front of the television, watching some old rerun."
"I'm not so sure."
Julie pulled him up the last step. "Come on. Don't you get yellow on me now."
The first room down the hall was the master bedroom, obviously. It was larger than any of the other rooms on the second story. An extravagant bed rested in the middle of the floor. Light pinkish draperies hung in folds all around it, as if protecting whoever lay within from even the slightest insect. A hope chest, the height and width of the bed, lay at its footboard. Next to the bed, running against the wall, was an enormous dresser extending the entire length of the room. On the wall were mirrors of many shapes and sizes, more than hinting that the occupant was vain. A plush velvet carpet lay at their feet.
Julie was in awe. "I just love it!" She threw herself down on the bed. "Oh, if only to be rich."
Sly began going through the dresser drawers. "We're not here to marvel," he said. "We've already accomplished that earlier."
She sighed longingly, and began helping search the numerous drawers.
They spent the next fifteen minutes going through each of the drawers, both closets, the hope chest, and the bathroom without finding anything suggesting a motive for the murders, a sign of foul play, or anything linking themselves to a plot against them. "I'm beginning to think this whole ordeal an entire waste of time," Sly said as they closed the bedroom door behind them.
Julie pulled him down the hall. "Stephen's room is next," she said. "Maybe we'll find something incriminating there."
"If only we had a clue as to what to be searching for."
Julie slowly opened the door and reached in to turn on the light. The bed was undone, just as Stephen had left it on the last morning they had spent here. Some of his clothes lay scattered about the floor, like he had exploded and this was all that remained. Julie stood in the doorway, shaking her head in disgust, but wearing a bright smile on her face.
Sly pushed past her. "You take the left side of the room, and I'll take the other," he instructed. He immediately set to the task of searching the dresser on his side of the room.
Julie, first, started picking up Stephen's clothes. She grabbed the last pair of underwear, stuffed it into his overnight bag, and started zipping it shut.
But she didn't finish.
The closet door, just to her left, clicked open. She had been on her knees, but at the sound of the door she shot to her feet. She hadn't seen the door open, yet now it was slightly ajar. She turned to Sly to see if he heard it, but he was busy shining his flashlight under the bed. The door creaked, and this time Julie saw it open an inch. She pursed her mouth to speak, but the door opened another inch, and her lips smacked shut.
Something moved from within the darkness of the closet.
"Sly," she said, finally. Her voice cracked with fear.
Sly detected that note of fright in his name, and quickly jumped to his feet. "What?" His heart pounded heavily in his chest without even knowing what was happening. Julie's voice was incentive enough.
She only pointed at the closet as the door creaked open the remainder of the way.
Tabitha and Melissa decided not to cover the living room and kitchen as they had spent enough time in those rooms when they stayed here to know what was in both of them. After a brief discussion, they headed down the west wing. In less than ten minutes they searched each of the four rooms in front of the one where Stephen and Melissa had heard the voice. All of the rooms were bare of everything except for carpeting, which made the task rather easy.
Melissa stopped in the hallway before they reached the next room. "I really don't want to go in there." She didn't look at Tabitha as she spoke. Her attention was riveted on the door. "Let's do the other room first."
"Nonsense," replied Tabitha, who had been looking forward to entering that very room all evening. She hadn't said anything when Melissa told her the story of Randy breaking in and hiding in there, and she wanted desperately to believe it wasn't true. She first tried the knob to make sure it wasn’t locked. It turned easily in her hand. "You search the last room; I'll do this one."
"You sure?"
"Enough talk. I want to get out of here as quickly as possible. Now get."
Melissa looked at her doubtfully for a moment, and then went on her way. Tabitha watched her until she was in the other room before turning her attention to the one next to her. She shined her flashlight on the doorknob. "All right," she whispered to herself. "Let's do it." She turned the knob, flung the door open, and stepped inside.
And froze.
A man stood by the window, his back to her, looking out into the yard. He wasn't trying to get out. At first, he acted as if Tabitha hadn't even stumbled upon him. His right hand leaned against the sash, and his left rested on his hip.
"Who--" Tabitha started to say. But the person at the window dropped his right hand and began to slowly face her. Tabitha's flashlight lit his face for a second before he held up his hand in front of him to block the light.
Tabitha dropp
ed the light to the floor in shock. She put her hand over her mouth and gasped.
"Hello, Tabby," the man at the window said, breaking into a smile that couldn't be seen in the darkness. The flashlight rolled around on the floor for a few seconds and came to rest with the light shining back out into the hall. "I thought you'd be happy to see me again."
An expression of puzzlement overcame Tabitha's face. "Reed?" she asked tentatively, in a voice slightly higher than a whisper. Her head raced in opposite directions. "You died . . ."
"It's me, Tabby," the man at the window said, calmly, like a burglar in a house trying to calm a guard dog. "In the flesh." He chuckled. "Well, sort of, anyway."
Tabitha, now, could only see his silhouette against the slightly brighter background of the window. "Reed?" she asked again, less tentatively this time. She took a step toward him.
"Don't!" he said.
Tabitha took the step backwards.
"It's just that you don't want to touch me." He paused. "You wouldn't like it," he added, apologetically.
Tabitha's hopes had risen for a minute, but when he told her not to come near, she began to realize that it must be a hoax. "What's going on here?" she asked, much more boldly.
"Fair question," the man answered. Lightning lit the room momentarily, and again he looked so much like Reed. "But profoundly difficult to answer."
"You're not Reed," she murmured. "Reed is dead." Her mind was fogged over, as though she wasn't really present in the room. That this entire scene was something out of a dream. "I was there when Dad identified your body."
"That's true," he replied. "But the person you see now before you is that same brother you loved so much."
Suddenly, Tabitha wanted to sprint out of the room and yell for help. Her heart pounded slowly, but hard in her chest. She wished she hadn't dropped the flashlight. It rested at her feet a yard to her right, but she didn't dare reach to grab it. She was afraid to take her eyes off of the form in front of her.
The Revenant: A Horror in Dodsville Page 23
