The Cellar bhc-1

by Richard Laymon

  “Don’t blame you a bit. She’s a choice piece, that gal. I’d be pissing steam if she run out on me.”

  Roy paid for the gas, then drove half a mile up the road. He saw the restaurant first, a rustic building shaded by evergreens. WELCOME INN’S CARRIAGE HOUSE. FINE DINING. A short distance beyond it was a coffee shop. Then a driveway led into a courtyard with about half a dozen cabins on each side. Just past the driveway entrance stood the motel office. The red tubing of the neon VACANCY sign was lit.

  Roy kept driving, suddenly nervous.

  So close. He didn’t want to blow it, now. He needed time to think.

  He drove up the road until he found a wide shoulder. There, he pulled off and shut down the engine. He checked his wristwatch. Nearly three-fifteen.

  Donna’s car is at the Chevron station, he thought. Okay. If she picks it up today, she either leaves right away, or spends the night. If she leaves, she’ll drive past here. He could simply wait and stop her somehow.

  What if she heads south? No, she wouldn’t do that. Not after making a beeline north like this.

  Still, she might.

  Or she might stay another night at the inn.

  That’d be easy enough to find out. Just check in the motel office. If she’s planning to stay over, she would’ve registered by now.

  He couldn’t check the office, though. She might find out.

  Well, not necessarily. He could go to the office, get her cabin number, and drive right to her door before she had a chance to find out anything, take precautions, call the cops. He could bust in, grab her and the kid, get out before anyone knows what hit.

  Not a chance. People would see. There’d be cops after them so quick…

  Why take them anywhere? Just go in, shut them up, and stay inside. Plenty of privacy. Even beds. Stay as long as he felt like it.

  What if they’re out?

  If they’re out, they might ask at the office, and find out he’d been there asking.

  “Shit,” he muttered, seeing his plan fall apart.

  Okay, getting the number from the office is out. That leaves one way to learn which cabin is theirs: Stake the place out. Watch for them.

  He spent a few moments wondering about the best way to keep watch on the cabins, then climbed out of the car. He took his pack from the backseat and slipped his arms through the straps. Then he opened the trunk. Joni was conscious. He lifted her out by the arms.

  They walked along the roadside until Roy saw the office of the Welcome Inn about fifty yards ahead. Then he led Joni into the trees. The twigs and pine cones of the forest floor hurt her bare feet, and she started to cry.

  “Stop that.”

  “It hurts.”

  “Do you want me to carry you?”

  She nodded.

  Roy grinned, remembering how she’d refused a similar offer, just last night. Maybe she was beginning to trust him. He bent down. She wrapped an arm around the back of his neck, as if she’d had a lot of practice. Roy hooked one arm under her back and the other behind her knees. He lifted, and began to walk with her through the trees.

  He enjoyed carrying Joni this way. She was light enough so it caused little strain. Her arm reaching around his neck seemed almost friendly, though he knew she only did it for her own security. Her face was close to his. With a slight forward shift of his head, he could brush his cheek against the softness of her hair. The backs of her legs were bare against his right arm. As he walked, he caressed the velvety side of her thigh. Her free hand made no effort to stop him.

  Soon a row of cabins came into view. They were painted like redwood, with slanted roofs. They had windows in back, but no doors.

  Staying far away from the cabins, Roy worked his way past the end one. A break in the trees gave him a view of the parking area. It curved slightly southward between the cabins. From its angle, he figured that the windows of the nearest cabin on the left should give him a view of all the other cabin fronts.

  He made a wide sweep through the woods, and came up directly behind it. He grinned. The angle of the cabin’s rear side shielded it from the other cabins. He set Joni onto her feet.

  “What are you doing?” she whispered.

  Whispered. He liked that.

  “I’m getting us a place to stay.”

  The window sill was level with Roy’s head. The window was shut.

  “I’m gonna lift you up,” he whispered. “Tell me who’s inside.” He put down his backpack and patted his shoulder.

  Joni climbed onto his shoulders. She held the top of his head. Gripping her knees, Roy slowly stood until her eyes were level with the bottom of the window.

  “Closer,” she said. She leaned forward, thighs pressing the sides of his head. Hands cupped to her eyes, she peered into the window screen. “Higher,” she whispered.

  He raised her. “Who’s there?”

  “Nobody.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Huh?”

  “Is anyone there?”

  “No.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes.”

  He lowered her to the ground, and she climbed off. “You’re not lying, are you?”

  “I don’t tell lies,” she said solemnly.

  “Okay. You’d better not.”

  “I’m hungry.”

  “We’ll eat when we get inside.”

  “What?”

  “I’ve got lots of stuff in the pack. But first we have to get in there.”

  “How?”

  He didn’t answer. He led her to the right side of the cabin. There were two windows on the side, but they could be seen from the cabin across the parking area. He didn’t want to chance being seen. They returned to the single rear window.

  He could only get in by breaking it.

  That would mean noise.

  What were the alternatives? He could walk to the door of an occupied cabin, knock, and knife his way in. Someone might see him, though. And if he screwed it up there might be a scream. That’d be worse, by far, than a little breaking glass.

  Maybe he should go under the cabin and watch for Donna from there. Kneeling, he looked into the crawl space under the elevated floor. It was a couple of feet high. Plenty of room. He ought to have a good view from the front.

  It would be filthy, though. All kinds of bugs and spiders. Slugs. Maybe even rats. No telling how long he would have to wait: maybe hours. And what would he do with Joni? The hell with that.

  With his knife, he pried loose the two lower clamps of the window screen. He worked the screen loose and propped it against the wall.

  Reaching into the pack, he took out his flashlight. “Okay,” he said, “onto my shoulders.”

  Joni climbed on.

  Roy handed the flashlight to her. He straightened up. “See up there? Where the window ends?”

  “Here?” She pointed to the wood crossbeam at the bottom of the upper window.

  “Right. Break the glass just above that, then you can undo the latch. Use the end of the flashlight. Hit it hard.”

  “Here?”

  “A little more to the left.”

  “Here?”

  “Yeah. Now hit it hard so it breaks the first time.”

  Holding him across the forehead with one hand, she swung. Roy heard the loud slam of the flashlight striking glass. The glass didn’t break. “Hard!” he muttered. “Hit it hard! Hard as you can.” He waited. “Go ahead, damn it!”

  The flashlight crashed down on his head. Again. Again. Pain streaked through his skull. He put a hand up. The flashlight struck his fingers.

  Ducking, he rammed Joni into the wall. She cried out and dropped the flashlight. Roy reached up. He grabbed her blouse and tugged. The girl tumbled over his head. Her back slammed the ground.

  “Hey!”

  Roy looked toward the corner. A teenage girl stood there, holding towels in her arms.

  “What the hell are you doing?” she demanded. She sounded more angry than afraid.

&nb
sp; In an instant, Roy had his knife out. He pressed it to Joni’s belly. “I’m gonna kill this little girl if you don’t come over here.”

  “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “Run or yell, and I’ll gut her like a catfish.”

  The girl began to shake her head. “You’re sick,” she said.

  “Come here.”

  With short, hesitant steps, the girl began to approach him. Her eyes watched him closely, as if trying to figure him out.

  He watched how the late-afternoon breeze ruffled her hair. He watched how her small breasts jiggled seductively inside her white T-shirt. He watched her lean, tanned legs.

  “What’re you doing here?” he asked.

  “I might ask you the same thing.”

  “Just answer.”

  “I own the place.”

  “You?”

  “My family.”

  “Then you’ve got keys,” he said, and grinned.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN 1.

  Over the sound of the television, Donna heard a car drive up. Sandy looked at her, worried. Putting down the newspaper, Donna climbed off the bed and went to the window. A dark green Chrysler pulled to a stop just outside the door. “It’s Jud and Larry,” she said. She opened the door for them.

  “Any sign of him?” Jud asked.

  Donna shook her head. “No. How’d you do?”

  “Not too bad.”

  “Not too bad, indeed!” said Larry. “We got away scot-free, slick as thieves, and cast your eyes on this.” He waved a leather-bound book. “This is the diary of Lilly Thorn. Her own words. Good heavens, what a find!” He went to the edge of the bed and sat down beside Sandy. “How was your afternoon, my little lady bug?”

  Donna turned to Jud. “Did you find the beast

  suit?” “No.” “What about Mary Ziegler’s body?”

  “Not that, either. There were a couple of places we couldn’t search, though.”

  “Did someone come back?”

  “No. One of the rooms was already occupied, and we didn’t check the cellar because there was a light down there.”

  “Then somebody was home?”

  “Several somebodies, by the looks of it.”

  “There’s only Maggie, Axel, and Wick,” she said.

  “And two were over at Beast House running the tours.”

  “So who was in the house?”

  “Axel, I suppose. And at least two others.”

  “But who?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “That’s a little spooky.”

  “Yeah. I wasn’t too happy about it, myself.”

  They sat on the side of Jud’s bed. “What was the house like?” Donna asked.

  She listened closely, intrigued by what he told her of the blue lights, the living room with no furniture except pillows, the bathtub with its strange handles. Most of all, she was fascinated by the bedroom.

  “You wouldn’t think Maggie Kutch was the type. And Hapson! That guy’s an old weasel. It’s hard to picture them making love at all, much less under mirrors. The bondage part I’ll buy, though. The sadism. Did you see the look on his face when he went after Mary Ziegler with his belt?”

  Jud nodded.

  “I always thought they were a bunch of sickoes. I mean, you have to be, don’t you, living off tours of a place like Beast House?” 2.

  Except for a half-hour walk up a hill that overlooked the ocean, they spent the afternoon in Cabin 12. Larry read the diary in less than an hour, at times shaking his head in disbelief, and muttering. Sandy watched television. Donna sat next to the window with Jud.

  At four-thirty, Donna mentioned that she’d like to find out about her car. The four of them walked to the Chevron station. As they approached it, she saw her blue Maverick along with three other cars parked beside the garage. “I bet he hasn’t touched it yet,” she said.

  Jud walked with her to the office, where the bony mechanic was busy on the telephone. They waited outside until he was done.

  “All set, lady,” he announced, coming out.

  “You mean it’s ready?” Donna asked, unwilling to believe the surprising news.

  “Sure is. Radiator came in around noon.” He walked ahead of them to the car and raised the hood. “There she is. I test-drove her, and she runs sweet as a pie.”

  They returned to the office. He showed her the bill, pointing out the cost of parts and labor. “That be cash or charge?”

  “Charge.” She searched her purse for the proper credit card.

  “Where you staying?” he asked.

  “Over at the Welcome Inn.”

  “That’s what I figured. No place else to stay.” He took her credit card. “That’s what I told the fella looking for you.”

  The words hit her hard. She stared at the man, stunned, until Jud’s firm grip on her elbow brought her back. “Who?” she asked.

  “A fella come driving up in a ’76 Rolls, says he knows your car. He find you?”

  She shook her head.

  “Do you always give out information about your customers?” Jud asked.

  “Don’t come up that often.” His eyes narrowed. “You folks in some kind of trouble?”

  “No,” Jud said, “but you may be.”

  The man handed the credit card back to Donna, then gave her the charge slips to sign. Slowly, he turned to Jud. “Piss off, mister, before I kick your fucking ass from here to Fresno.”

  “Shut up!” Donna shouted into his face. “What right did you have to tell that man anything…anything…about me?”

  “Hell, lady, I didn’t tell him nothing. He had your name. He was gonna find you. Like I say, no place to stay but the inn. He was gonna find you, anyway.” The mechanic flicked a hard glance at Jud, then looked back at Donna. “Gonna step out on your husband, lady, you gotta be more careful.” He grinned and walked away.

  “Let’s go!” Donna called to her daughter and Larry. They were across the street looking in store windows. As they started back, Donna said, “I don’t want Sandy to know, okay?”

  “She’ll be more careful if she knows.”

  “She’s terrified of that man. And after what she’s already been through, today…”

  “We won’t tell her. But we’ll have to be damned careful from now on. Especially back at the inn.”

  Donna took his hand, and found confidence in his eyes. She met Sandy and Larry with a smile. “Miracle of miracles,” she said. “The car’s fixed.” 3.

  On the way back to the Welcome Inn, Donna watched for a Rolls-Royce but didn’t see one. There was no Rolls in the parking lot, either.

  “Park in front of your cabin,” Jud said.

  She did. Then Jud led them across the asphalt to his cabin. He entered first, and made a quick search before allowing them inside. “I need to go to the office,” he said. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  He was back in less than five. With a slight shake of his head, he let her know that nobody had been asking about her at the office. “Why don’t we have supper now,” he suggested.

  “I’m starving!” Sandy blurted.

  “You’re a bottomless pit,” Larry told the girl. “An abyss.”

  “You’re the pit,” she said, laughing.

  “Sandy,” Donna warned, “don’t use that kind of language.”

  “He did.”

  “That’s different. He didn’t mean ‘pit’ the way you did.”

  “I most certainly did not.”

  As they walked to the motel restaurant, Donna put her arm around Jud’s back. Her hand touched a hard, jutting object just above his belt. She fingered the outline.

  “So that’s why your shirttail’s out.”

  “Actually, it’s out because I’m a slob.”

  “A well-armed slob, at that.”

  The dining room was nearly deserted. As the hostess led them among tables, Donna checked every face. Roy wasn’t here.

  “We’d like a corner table, please,” Jud said.

  “How�
��s this?” asked the hostess.

  “Just fine.”

  Jud took a seat, Donna noticed, that would give him a wide view of the dining room.

  A young, blond waitress came. “Cocktails?”

  Donna ordered a margarita.

  Sandy asked for a Pepsi.

  “I’d like a double martini,” Larry said. “Very dry. Bone dry. In fact, dispense with the vermouth entirely.”

  “So that’s a double gin, straight up, with an olive.”

  “Precisely. You’re a gem.”

  “And you, sir?” she asked Jud.

  “I’ll have a beer.”

  “Budweiser, Busch, or Michelob?”

  “Make it Bud.”

  “An incorrigible snob,” Larry muttered.

  Donna laughed. She laughed very hard, harder than the remark deserved, but it seemed like a long time since anything had struck her as funny, and the laughter felt good. In a moment, a giggle escaped from Larry. That triggered Sandy. Soon the three of them were convulsed with mirth. Jud grinned at them, but his eyes kept sweeping the room.

  During the whole dinner, Jud kept watch as if he weren’t part of the group, but their guard. Then he insisted on paying the bill.

  When they were leaving, Donna caught his arm and stopped him from following Sandy and Larry outside.

  “What’s…?”

  “Thank you for dinner.” She hugged him tightly and kissed him. She could feel him begin to relax, to open, to let emotion into his kiss. Then he forced her away.

  “We’d better stick close to Sandy,” he said, tearing down her good feeling so that she wanted to cry.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  From the window of the end cabin, Roy watched Donna, Sandy, and two men enter Cabin 12. Her car was parked in front of 9. He guessed that 9 was her place, and 12 the men’s.

  That simplified matters. Sometime during the night, Donna and Sandy would return to their cabin alone. Maybe in five minutes. Maybe not for hours. But sometime. Regardless, he would wait until after dark.

  He looked around at the two beds, at the two girls tied to them and gagged. The older one, the owner’s kid, was still sniffing. He figured she was sixteen, maybe seventeen. He didn’t know her name. She’d been good, though. She’d been wet and slippery, and Roy suspected that she’d enjoyed herself. He’d spent nearly an hour with her after the four had walked off, probably for dinner. She hadn’t started crying until afterward. Guilt, more than likely.