by Neil Olson
He listened closely, but the thumps were more sensed than heard. Powerful but muffled. As if they came from underground. For the first time since a certain night in Miami, he got a bad attack of the heebie-jeebies. Audrey was right, this place was haunted. The fifth thump was the last. Then something caught his eye. A dozen yards into the trees, a figure moved. Tall and shuffling and making no attempt to hide. Dave lost sight of him and moved closer for a better look. This was a thinner part of the wood, less pine, more maple. He ought to be able to see. He thought about Teresa waiting at the door and knew he should go to her. But there was someone out there, and Dave had the jump on him. It was too good a chance to waste.
Within the trees, it was a different story. The lines of sight were poorer than he had guessed, and he heard nothing but his own feet in the dead leaves. No more woods—you promised yourself two nights ago and here you are! After twenty yards, Dave began to turn back when he spotted something out of place. A loafer dangling off a foot. Then a leg, then a man in a beige raincoat, his back against a tree trunk. He blended into the surroundings so well that he was easy to miss. Dave did not think it was the same guy he saw a minute earlier, especially as this one was motionless, but he crept closer to investigate.
“Hey, Philip,” he whispered as the face came into view. The hair was wildly messed, the glasses missing, the blue eyes at half-mast, not seeming to take much in. Yet Dave did not think he was dead. There was old bruising—two days old, Dave would bet—over the left side of the face, but a fresh and bleeding wound on the right temple. And another on the crown. “I see you’ve been having as much fun as me.”
“Duff.”
“Well said.” Dave crouched and waved a hand in front of Philip’s face. The eyes followed. That was a good sign. Which begged the question, why did Dave feel disappointed? Because some part of him had hoped to find Philip’s head cracked open, his breath stopped. Even now, it would be so easy to place a firm hand over his mouth. To pinch his nostrils closed and watch the face turn red, feel the injured body tremble and jerk. Until it stopped. The man was in no condition to resist. And who could then say that the blows to the head were not the cause? Who could say you didn’t have it coming? You sleazy, child-molesting piece of shit. “Who hit you?”
“Dave.” Which was what he had tried to say before.
“I’m Dave, and it wasn’t me. Why are you even here?”
“Peeth. Meeting Peeth.”
“Pete, got it.” So much for him staying away. The ex-Marine lived to dole out or receive punishment, it seemed. It was good to understand your purpose. “Why were you meeting Pete at all, let alone in these godforsaken woods?”
“His gun.”
“What about it?” Dave asked. “He lost it in that park.”
“Freddie took.”
“Fred has Pete’s gun?” That was a bad development, if true.
“No. I took it from Fred.”
“So you have it now,” Dave said, patting down the raincoat but finding nothing.
“Wanted it back.”
“Pete did?”
“Yeah.”
“So, what? You came here to give him his gun?”
It seemed unlikely, but a more credible conclusion occurred to Dave. Pete came to get his gun back, but Philip had a different use of the weapon in mind. Judging by his looks, things had not gone according to Phil’s plan. Which meant that Pete had the gun again. Unless he was lying dead nearby.
“You five-star asshole. Why has no one killed you yet?”
Philip closed his eyes and said no more. Remaining crouched, Dave shifted around and looked out on the trees. Things had passed beyond an acceptable degree of risk. If not for him, then for Teresa. He slipped the phone out of his pocket and thumbed it on. Thirty yards away something swayed, as a thin trunk might do in the breeze. But there was no breeze. Dave looked once at the path he needed to follow back to the house, so he did not walk into a tree. Then he stood, fixed his eyes on the swaying form, and began to punch 911 into the phone as he shuffled sideways. Too many things at once, he told himself. You’re dividing your attention. He had barely time to think it when something loomed to his immediate left and he turned.
“I guess both of us lied,” Pete said, just before everything stopped.
26
Teresa held her breath, listening. The thuds were faint and evenly paced, and stopped after five repetitions. She could not pinpoint direction, but felt it in her knees more than she heard it. Dave was taking too long to circle the house. Maybe he had seen something. Maybe he had found the back door open and gone in. Wanting to protect her, that would be like him. Men were so annoying.
After five minutes, she started around the house in the opposite direction, to maximize their chance of intersecting. The sun was above the trees, but dropping fast. The light a low and melancholy yellow. Audrey’s car was in the garage, which was no surprise, but sent Teresa’s anxiety level up. The mudroom door was locked. No figures wandered the lawn or hid behind statues. She arrived at the front of the house again, and no Dave. Then she pulled her keys out and unlocked the door.
The house alarm did not chime its warning, and a quick check of the control panel showed it unarmed. Someone was inside. Teresa took deep and slow breaths, trying to control her speeding heart. These were screwed-up people, but they were her family. She could deal with them. She made her way down the wide and shadowed hall toward the back of the house. The study door stood open, as it should—she had left it that way. Yet she could not help expecting to see her grandfather sitting at his desk. White hair swept back from his forehead and that superior expression he always wore. An expression, she now understood, serving mostly to hide the fear in his heart. And the portrait there behind his head, where he would not have to see it. But the room was empty. No painting or old man. Not even a shrouded ghoul.
She jumped before her mind registered the noise. The thump was not faint now, but a hammering bang. Followed by another, seconds later. Then a third. After each there was a brief clattering, as of crumbling masonry. The source was no longer a mystery. It came straight up through the floor. The wine cellar. The stairs to which were only steps away, and Teresa went to them in haste. The door was open a few inches, the light on above the stairs. The banging was unspeakably loud, as if someone was trying to take down the mansion’s foundation. Hating the idea, Teresa forced herself down the creaking steps, the hammering masking her descent. At the bottom, a bizarre sight met her eyes.
The air was fogged with plaster dust. An empty wine rack had been dragged from its spot, and its former occupants were placed all about the chamber, frosted white. At least one had shattered, for the pungent scent of red wine filled the space. Along the near wall were a series of gouges about three feet from the floor. Some were shallow but a few were deep, no doubt requiring several blows. Deep enough to expose different generations of plaster, concrete and stone, piles of which lay smoking on the floor. Amid this carnage stood a phantom. Dusted white from head to foot, it lurked near one corner, a sledgehammer resting on its right shoulder. The curvy thighs and heroic breasts pushing the tank top’s limits gave the game away before she tugged the bandanna off her face.
“What’s shaking, Tay-ray?” Audrey huffed into the choked air.
“I didn’t know you were so strong.”
“Could have used you a few hours ago when I was moving this junk. Dave was supposed to do this part, but he bailed on me.”
“Men.”
“What are you doing back here?”
“I knew that you would be,” Teresa said, only then noticing the shotgun leaning against the wall. Covered in dust like everything else. Audrey followed her gaze.
“For intruders,” she said, in a tone Teresa did not like. “What do you think you know, little girl?”
“You going to patch up these walls and put everything back when you�
��re done?”
“Funny.”
“Seriously, how are you going to explain this?”
“Easy,” said Audrey. “Knock over a rack or two, spray-paint some graffiti. Then go upstairs and do the same in a bunch of other rooms.”
“Hooligans? Who happen to know the alarm code?”
“I guess you and Davie forgot to set it when you left in such a hurry.” It was madness. Only Audrey would think it a viable plan. Or not even Audrey. She was working backward from desperation, not forward from reason. “Where is Dave, anyway?”
“Checking out the grounds. He’ll be here in a minute.”
“No, he won’t,” said Audrey, in that same threatening tone. “No way he would have let you come down here by yourself. Little Tay is all alone.”
She could run. Audrey would be slowed by the heavy hammer, and would have to drop it to grab the shotgun. But Teresa knew she was not going to run.
“Nothing to say, mi Teresita?”
“You’re in the wrong spot. I told you where it was.”
“You did,” Audrey agreed, catching a throat full of dust and coughing. “I didn’t believe you,” she croaked. “Wasn’t where I remembered.”
“Well, you must have been panicked,” Teresa said reasonably. “Somebody might have shown up. You probably weren’t sure how hard you hit Ilsa, how long she would be out.”
“Think you’re so smart,” her cousin said, almost affectionately.
“Actually, I think I’m pretty stupid not to have figured it out years ago.”
“Nobody wanted to figure it out. They had Pete, or Philip, or your father to choose from, if they needed a scapegoat. Everyone wanted to forget.”
“I’ve never forgotten.”
“Your dad was a mess his whole life. You can’t lay that on me.”
“James has never forgotten either, has he?”
Audrey took several quick steps toward her, squeezing the hammer shaft in both fists. Teresa had no doubt that if she turned to run she would get her head caved in. She shut her eyes and stood her ground. Where are you, Dave? Where are you, Dad? Why are you making me face this alone? When she opened her eyes Audrey was three feet away, breathing heavily.
“You’re such a great victim, Teresa, but what’s really happened to you? You have seizures, like millions of people. And what do you do? Not take your medication, so you can keep having them, so you can keep playing victim.”
“I never asked for your sympathy.”
“You lost your crazy dad, big deal. You can have mine. You have no idea what real suffering is. I live with what happened to James every day.”
“How did it happen? Why was he in the study?”
Audrey took one more step forward, her breath and sweat filling Teresa’s senses. Her smile was malicious, but there was pain her in eyes.
“He was trying to save you,” she whispered harshly. Then she strode back to the corner of the chamber. “So, what, right about here?”
“How?” It was all she could say for a moment. “How was he trying...”
“You were both obsessed with that room. You would stand there with your ears to the door, listening to Ramón and Alfred discuss the fate of the universe, or whatever.” She swung the hammer back, then struck the wall savagely. “I didn’t really understand until last week. James decided the portrait was the reason for everything. Dad beating us and Mom getting wasted and Grandpa being cruel.” She struck again. Plaster and concrete flew. “And you getting sick. Don’t ask me where he got that, but he was convinced he had to do something or you would die.”
I’m going to help you, Tay. The floor seemed to drop out from under Teresa.
“He wanted to destroy the portrait,” she said. “To free the demon.”
Audrey ceased hammering and looked thoughtful.
“I don’t think he’d dreamed up that bullshit yet. But on some unconscious level, yeah, I guess. I didn’t get it.”
“Or you never would have let him into that room.”
Audrey grimaced and looked at the floor.
“Why did you tell everyone I was still in your bedroom?”
“I thought you were,” Teresa replied. “The last thing I remembered was you asleep in the window seat. I must have gone out for a while. James’ scream woke me up, and I saw someone run out. It was Ilsa, but I thought it was you.”
“Huh. And I thought you were covering for me. All these years I thought you knew.”
“I should have known. You always had keys. You had been in the study before, you used to brag about it. Used to pretend you saw the portrait.”
“How do you know I didn’t?”
“Because you’re still afraid. Not the way James and Philip are, but like a child. You want to know, and you don’t want to. That’s why you made your brother look at it first.”
Audrey ran at her, and Teresa knew standing her ground would not work. She stumbled backward and fell on her ass just as the hammer swept by her face. Missing by inches. The swing threw Audrey off balance, and she slammed to the floor beside her cousin. To Teresa’s surprise, she did not leap up again but lay there on her stomach. Eyes squeezed shut.
“He wanted to see,” Audrey cried. “He begged me to show him.”
“I know,” Teresa said, surprised she could form words. Her heart was beating so hard that her entire chest hurt. Not to mention her tailbone. “I know he did.”
They lay on the cement floor, barely a foot apart. As if the same invisible blow had flattened them both.
“I woke up and he was gone,” Audrey said. “I freaked out until I found him there, by the door.” She rolled slowly onto her back. “I was so pissed off that I thought, we’re going to end this curiosity thing right now. Yeah, I had the key. I let us in. Then I teased him for being too scared to look, but I never believed that he...”
“You had your back to the painting?”
“There was a cloth over it. It was always covered when Grandpa was gone, just in case. I turned my head for one second, and James yanked it off. He had a letter opener, that sharp one Grandpa owned?”
“The mini Toledo blade.” Teresa saw the cloth, old and discolored. Saw a hand upon it, ready to pull it free. Her mind swerved away. “Dad gave him that.”
“He slashed the canvas right across the middle. Then he screamed and fell down, like it was him who was cut open. Worst sound I ever heard anyone make. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t do anything at first, couldn’t even believe it happened. It was a nightmare. One you never wake up from.”
“Then Ilsa showed.”
“I didn’t know who it was. Didn’t care. Just someone coming down the back stairs, and all I could think, Tay. All I could think was my life is over. Cause either my dad was going to kill me, and I mean literally kill me. That’s what I believed. Or he was going to beat me blind and send me to one of those teenage lockups. That’s what my stepmother wanted. I would have hung myself if I had to go there. My life was over.”
“Unless you found a way to save it.”
“Yes,” Audrey exclaimed. With a profound gratefulness at being understood. “I grabbed that fire iron and ran behind the door. And when she came in I swung like my life depended on it, because that’s how it felt. Poor Ilsa.”
“Then you had to hide the painting. Make it look like a robbery. How did you do that without seeing it?”
“Threw the cloth over it again. Maybe I saw something, but I was too scared of being punished to worry about a picture. I remembered the crawl space, and the stairs were right there. So I came down and slid it in as far as it would go. Then ran back upstairs to get Jenny.”
He didn’t do it, Teresa thought. Tears pooling in her stinging eyes and running down her face. You didn’t take it, Dad. I’m so sorry I almost believed it.
“Afterward,” Teresa said, “whe
n everyone was blaming everyone, and the family was falling apart. How could you keep silent?”
Audrey sat up beside her. For all the grief in her voice, her eyes were dry.
“The family was never together, Teresa. Everyone was always at everyone’s throats. You were too young to see, thought this was some kind of fairyland. Grandpa up there banging the maids while Grandma walked around humming to herself. The wives hissing at their useless husbands. Pete and Philip putting their hands all over me and my parents too drunk to notice. I didn’t owe these fucking people anything.”
“You were just going to leave it hidden forever?”
“I only came back a couple of times. I had this idea to hide it in the woods where someone could find it. But when I reached into the space I couldn’t feel it. I couldn’t tell if it was gone or just out of reach, and I was too big to climb in and look. Then they sealed the damn thing up.”
“Where would it have gone?” Teresa asked in confusion. Audrey leaned over and looked into her eyes with those mad blues.
“Good question. Because there were only two people small enough to fit.”
“Come on, you don’t think I took it. And faked not knowing all these years? While people were accusing my father?”
“It seems unlikely. But facts are facts. That’s why I was following you and James around last week.”
“In the woods,” Teresa said angrily. “That was you.”
“Figured I could save myself knocking down a wall if one of you could lead me to where you had stowed it.”
“Why was your head covered?”
“What the hell are you talking about?” She looked genuinely puzzled.
“Never mind. If either of us took it, why would we have left it here?”
“Because you were children. How would you have taken it away?” Audrey stood and dragged the sledgehammer behind her, back over to the cratered corner. “But since I’ve started and there’s no going back, let’s stop guessing. Come here and show me exactly where that opening was. Now.”
Like a sleepwalker, Teresa rose and went to her. She knelt by the cool, damp wall and felt around. Keeping Audrey and the hammer in her peripheral vision at all times.
