"What I saw that evening was notably convincing," Sly replied slowly. "I don't think I'll ever shake the image of little Clair Klaus floating down those stairs." He paused, looking down at his hands in his lap. "But I just don't know. Someone is going to profound lengths in this matter."
"You think she might have been a projected image or something like that?"
Melissa shook her head emphatically. "No," she replied for Sly. "She was solid. When she came down those steps, she was as solid as you or I are now."
The sound of a car pulling into the driveway interrupted Sly's rebuttal. Stephen looked through the drapes to see who it was. Pierce's battered station wagon rested in the driveway. "Our friendly detective has come to pay us a visit. Isn't that nice?"
"I'm out of here," Melissa said, standing. She made a quick dash for the kitchen.
Sly opened the door as Pierce was making his way up the front steps. "What is it now, Pierce?" Sly asked. He was expecting him to say something about the break in at the mansion, even though Sly did actually have a key.
"May I come in, please?" Detective Pierce asked in his most placating voice. "We need to talk."
Sly, surprised by Pierce's pleasant attitude, silently stood out of the way for him to pass. Together they walked into the living room, where only Stephen sat. He appeared to be intently watching the local news on television. Sly sat down while Pierce stood in the middle of the room.
"Where's the rest of the mighty gang?" Pierce asked after a moment of uneasy nervousness. He was here to ask for their cooperation, and he knew it would be hard to get. He raised his voice. "I know you are all here. Unless, of course, you managed to sneak by my new man. So come on out."
Sly asked, "What do you want them for?"
"I need to talk to all of you at once," he replied. He motioned toward Stephen, who had yet to look up from the television. "Especially now that O'Neal has managed to break out of the hospital. They are quite worried about you, you know," he said to Stephen. "With the way people are disappearing and all. Your nurse was almost in tears. Of course, I had a man there keeping an eye on you, and convinced her that you were all right."
"That's right," Stephen said, finally looking up. "I am all right."
"And then when my man watching this place called and said you had arrived, I hurried right over."
Melissa had been listening at the kitchen door, and now she walked into the living room, deciding to face Pierce.
"Ah, here's one more," the detective commented as she walked past him and sat next to Stephen. "Now, there's only two more to dig up."
"We hear you," Julie said from the top of the stairs. Tabitha stood solemnly next to her. Both had thrown on a robe.
Pierce smiled. "Why don't you come down and join the party?"
Julie obliged, but Tabitha only sat on the top step and stared balefully at Pierce as if to dare him to say anything about it.
"All right," Stephen said after Julie had sat on the couch next to Melissa. "You now have our undivided attention. Make it brief. We have better things to do with our time."
"Like break into the Klaus Mansion?" said Pierce, with a wry smile.
Melissa quickly turned her gaze to her lap, but nobody else faltered--or replied.
"That's right," Pierce said, after realizing no one was about to answer the charge. "I know the four of you, minus O'Neal, of course, were there three nights ago. And I don't think you can claim you had permission this time. Am I right?"
"So, you here to arrest us?" Sly said, a trifle petulantly, but not willing to push his luck too far.
Pierce sighed, "No," he said calmly. "Of course Meyer Klaus saw you there also, and I had to talk myself blue to keep him from pressing charges. The fact that the mansion was actually not his did help to clear his thoughts."
"How did you know it was us?" Julie asked.
Pierce laughed. "When you had to turn around at the gate, you drove right past the mansion, and we just happened to be looking out a side window when you did."
"On the second floor?" Tabitha asked, thinking about when she saw the drapes move up there.
Pierce turned around and looked up at her in confusion. "No," he said. "It was on the first floor. Why?"
Tabitha didn't reply.
"You had us all red-handed," Sly said. "Why did you allow us to get away with it?"
Pierce paced the floor. "Because you couldn't do me any good behind bars," he said at length. "Which is right where I could have you now." He paused, for effect. "But I need you all out on the prowl. You're all involved some way, but I don't think any one of you is the mastermind behind this."
"That mean you don't suspect us anymore?" Stephen asked.
"I didn't say anything about you, O'Neal," Pierce replied sullenly. "You weren't with them that evening. I was referring only to those that were."
Stephen sighed, but didn't say anything.
"Then why are you here?" Julie asked.
Pierce replied, "Because I need your help. I'm getting nowhere on this case, and the press is coming down hard on the department, which in turn is coming down hard on me." He scratched the back of his head. "Even if none of you killed anyone, or aren't responsible for any of the missing persons, I still have to believe that you are involved someway." He paused. "I don't know how, but I know you have to be."
"Did you see anyone else at the mansion that night?" Sly asked.
"No. Why?"
"We thought we may have seen something," Sly replied. "But we can't be sure."
Pierce pulled out a notebook and jotted down a few words.
"You can't catch them, you know," Tabitha said suddenly from the top of the stairs.
When Pierce turned to face her, Sly waved emphatically behind Pierce’s back for her not to say anything more.
Pierce asked calmly, "What do you mean by that?"
Tabitha took Sly's hint and looked away.
"All right," Pierce said after realizing he wasn't about to get a response. "But I was hoping for more cooperation than this."
"You said you needed our help," Sly said. "What did you mean?"
Pierce scratched the back of his head again. "I don't know yet," he replied. "But when I do, you'll be first to know." He shut his notebook and put it back into his vest pocket. "Next time you mess with the law, however, I'll throw the book at the bunch of you. Understand?" And with that last threat, he left.
Sly walked him to the door, watched until he was out of sight, and then reentered the living room.
"Well, Stephen," Julie said at length. "I see you made it."
Stephen braced himself for the oncoming attack.
"Just remember I had nothing to do with it when they ask," Julie said.
An expression of confusion overtook Stephen's face. That wasn't what he had expected. These, however, were not normal times, and that fact most likely had a lot to do with Julie's lack of fight. "I will," he replied meekly.
There was silence, all thinking their own thoughts.
Finally, Stephen spoke: "We have to return to the mansion."
"No way!" all four of his companions shouted in unison.
"Randy is the one," Tabitha added, walking down the stairs to join the group. Her face held no expression, almost as if she were in a trance. "He's the one."
"Now, Tabitha," Julie said. She stood and met her at the bottom of the stairs and immediately placed an arm around her. "We can't know anything right now. It's like Detective Pierce said."
"Tabitha confronted Randy about it this morning," Melissa said, to Stephen. "And, of course, he denied everything."
"I got rid of him, though," Tabitha said. She smiled for the first time that evening. "I got the bastard out of my life for good." She turned to Stephen and her smile faltered briefly, and then disappeared altogether. "He blames you, you know. He said Reed had it easy compared to what he was going to do to you." She began to cry. "I'm sorry, Stephen. I--"
"Now, Tabby," Stephen interrupted. "It's not your fault.
And I can handle his type any day." His broken left arm began to itch, as if to contradict his last statement.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN:
Randy’s Blunder
Mrs. Lucille O'Neal put on a light jacket and headed outdoors. Exercise, her doctor had told her. Her heart was weak and she needed to exercise daily if she wanted to avoid a heart attack in the near future. Walking, he had said, was the best thing to do. Walk every day.
"I'm too old for this," she said to herself as she walked down the motel's driveway and onto the side of the highway. The loose gravel under her feet crunched quietly in the night air. In Milwaukee she had the walk out of the way by seven o'clock each morning. But today she kept putting it off. Her only grandson was in trouble and she had other things on her mind than this silly ole walk. Less than a year ago Stephen had lost his fiancée in a car wreck. He had taken her death hard, so hard, in fact, that she was worried about what crazy thing he might do to deal with the pain. Now he was here in Dodsville, mixed up with whatever evil force was making itself present in this small town far away from home. Stephen said that he would be leaving Dodsville in a week or two. That wasn’t too bad. Nothing too serious could happen to the boy in that short of time. She hoped, anyway.
But what could she do?
"Pray," she whispered. She prayed a lot now. Since her doctor had told her about her heart.
The motel was just outside the city limits, and she headed toward the Border Cafe. She hadn't eaten anything since noon and the food there was all right. Nothing major, mind you. But it had a comfortable, quaint atmosphere, and that would be enough for her tastes this late in the day. She had timed the walk to the cafe yesterday--it was only twenty minutes away.
* * *
"Another brew over here," Randy Beliwitz shouted to the bartender. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "And this time make sure it's not piss water." He looked over to his construction buddies, who had been with him most of the afternoon and evening, for praise. They had started out the day as a group of six, but now that total had worn down to three.
Danny Holt nodded in Randy's direction, though nonchalantly. "Right." He picked up his own beer and drank from it. “Piss water.”
The bartender placed a fresh draft in front of Randy with a slight scowl, took the five-dollar bill lying on the counter and changed it without saying a word.
Randy took two gulps and slammed the glass back down onto the counter. "More piss water!" Some spittle flew from his mouth when he spoke. "Goddamn piss water."
The bartender glared at Randy briefly, then walked away.
The tavern was almost empty. Other than Beliwitz and his two companions only one other person sat at the bar--a retired old man with long gray hair reaching past his shoulders. He drank his whiskey sours in silence, only looking up when Randy shouted something at his buddies. Which was getting more and more often as the evening wore on.
Wally Bashki, sitting on the opposite side of Holt, leaned forward so he could see Randy. "Maybe we should be heading back to the crew," he said. "We have to be in Madison by six tomorrow morning, you know."
"Ah, sit down, you pansy," Randy replied sullenly. He wavered a bit in his stool, as if he were trying to settle his stomach. "We'll be there in plenty of time."
"Really, Randy." Holt decided to take up the cause. "I need some rest before the drive back. Let's go."
Randy turned to him, waving a menacing finger in his face, but didn't get a chance for his rebuttal. Two girls, a blonde and a brunette, distracted him by walking into the bar. He eyed them from top to bottom as they passed him, and they held his attention as they sat on the other side of the old man.
"Hold on, Danny Boy." Randy patted Holt on the shoulder, stood, fell back into his chair, and stood again. "We may get lucky yet."
"With those girls?" Holt rolled his eyes. "They don't even look old enough to be in here."
"If they're old enough to go to the store, then they're old enough to get bred."
Holt sighed and motioned to the bartender for another beer.
Randy walked the long way around the entire bar and dropped down in the stool next to the blonde. She turned away from him. The brunette giggled.
"How's it going tonight, ladies?" He tried to put his arm around the blonde, but she knocked his hand away.
"Get lost, will ya," she said, meeting his look with a baleful stare. "I mean it."
Randy wasn't about to give up so easily. "Oh, now come on. What do you say you and your friend there come with me and get it on? I have a couple of buddies over there who I think are still virgins. After you're done with me, maybe you can show them what it's all about."
The girls stood in unison. "You couldn't pay us," the brunette said. They began heading back for the exit.
Randy followed. "If it's money you want, I have plenty of that."
Holt stood after the girls passed him, to block Randy's pursuit. "Leave them alone, Randy." He held up both hands in front of him. "They aren't our type, anyway."
Randy brushed him aside and continued after the girls. "How much for a blow job?" He grabbed hold of the blonde's hand before she and her friend got out the door. "I'd love to feel your lips around my--”
The blonde yanked her hand away from him and slapped him in the face. "Beat it, creep," she said.
"Hey, buddy!" the bartender yelled from behind the bar. "Get back over here and leave them alone."
Randy ignored him completely. "Fifty bucks," he said, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out his wallet. "How about it?"
The blonde picked up Bashki's beer and threw it into Randy's face. "How about that?" She pushed him away from her, and she and the brunette stormed out of the bar.
The bartender threw a towel at Randy. "Dry yourself and get out of here!"
Holt and Bashki each grabbed an arm and carried Randy out of the bar after he had wiped off his face. The girls were walking in the opposite direction of Randy's truck.
"Bitches!" Randy shouted after them.
The blonde turned around and showed him her middle finger, then kept on walking.
Holt and Bashki didn't let go of Randy until they reached his truck.
"You assholes," Randy said, digging into his front pocket for his keys. "You can walk home from here. Both of you." He opened the driver's door. "She threw beer in my face, for Christ's sake!"
"You deserved it," Holt replied, taking a slow step back away from Randy. Bashki only kicked mutely at a stone.
"Well, the hell if you guys are riding with me." He got into the truck, slamming the door for emphasis. "Fucking pansies!" he yelled through the glass. He started the engine and sped off down the street.
Bashki and Holt looked at each other in disbelief and shook their heads. They began walking down the sidewalk.
Randy drove aimlessly around town for a while before finding himself cruising down the street where Julie Price lived. He slowed when he reached her apartment house and looked for any sign of life. Tabitha's car was parked in the driveway, along with Julie's and a car he didn't recognize.
He slammed both fists into the steering wheel. "Fucking O'Neal!" he shouted. Driving down the block, he kept hitting his fist into the dash.
Ten minutes later, Randy decided to grab something to eat before calling it a night. He turned a corner too sharply, running up onto the sidewalk and almost clipped an old lady. It took a few seconds for it to register through his alcohol-soaked brain who the lady was. "Well, now," he said as he pulled his truck to the side of the road and did a U-turn. "If it ain't O'Neal's last remaining relative."
He parked a half block behind her, jumped out of his truck and started after her. When he got within twenty yards, he slowed his pace to match hers. His boots clicked quietly, but audibly, on the sidewalk. Mrs. O'Neal looked back over her shoulder casually and immediately recognized the face in the orange glow of the streetlights. The Border Cafe's neon light shone another block and a half in front of her. She picked up her pace.
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Randy reached into his front pants pocket and pulled out a jackknife. He started walking faster to catch up to her, holding the knife closed behind his back.
Mrs. O'Neal stopped abruptly and turned around to face him. Randy stopped, and soon a smile broke across his face. They stood silently for a minute.
Finally, Randy brandished the knife from behind his back and pulled it open. "Hi, Grandma." His smile widened. "How are you doing this evening?"
Mrs. O'Neal held her ground. "I know who you are," she said. The Border Cafe wasn't that far away now, she knew. In her younger days she could run the distance in less than twenty seconds. But she wasn't young anymore, and the fact was, Randy would be on her in a second if she made any move.
"Good for you." Randy waved the knife in front of him, like a man attacking an invisible person. "Give me a blow job and you live."
"You're sick." Mrs. O'Neal now became frightened. "Get away from me and crawl back into the hole you came from."
The smile on Randy's face turned quickly into a frown. "So, that's where O'Neal gets his mouth." Then, without warning, he jumped at her.
She tried to run, but he grabbed her easily from behind and held the knife at her throat. She started to scream for help, but Randy put his free hand against her mouth and stifled it. He pulled her into the barren doorway of the store next to them and slammed her up against the inside display window. The store was closed and dark, except for the light in the window. The nearest streetlight was halfway down the block.
"Don't you dare scream, old lady," Randy said, pressing the knife against her neck. "Just lift your dress and I'll do the rest."
Mrs. O'Neal's heart hurt in her chest. It pounded loud enough for her to hear its beat in her ears. She raised her right knee in an attempt to kick Randy in the groin, but she only managed to hit him in his thigh.
Randy pushed her harder against the glass. "Your grandson is a menace, you know that?
A sharp pain shot up Mrs. O'Neal's left arm.
"He's got to pay for the trouble he's caused me." He reached down and unzippered his pants. "Now you just lift that dress." He pushed the knife a little harder into her throat. A drop of blood formed on her skin and slid innocently down her neck.
The Revenant: A Horror in Dodsville Page 26
