Life Guards in the Hamptons

by Celia Jerome

  “And Dr. Harmon fixed the Bermuda Triangle when he was still in college. I think it’s the same monster wreaking havoc again.”

  We almost hit a tree. “Oh, boy. Listen, a couple of weeks ago I was perfectly normal. I thought the world was, too, following all the usual rules of physics and logic I’d believed my whole life. Then I met you and the universe turned upside down. I saw impossible things, felt totally new sensations, understood the native people weren’t like you and me. Well, not like me.”

  “You’re like them now.”

  “That’s what you say.”

  “You saw the fishbird. They can’t.”

  “Okay, reality broke its boundaries and we moved into the Twilight Zone. But this … ? This new scenario is really, really hard to take. Horrific beasts, epic battles, vanishing professors.” He shook his head. “I can’t wrap my brain around it.”

  And he hadn’t met the House yet.

  I could feel the atmosphere change as we drove along Shearwater Street. No kids played in the yards, no gardeners raked or weeded. The air felt different. Or maybe that was my skin crawling, trying to push the car in another direction.

  Matt took my hand when we got out of the car and walked up the gravel path to the white colonial. I tried to stop it from shaking. My hand, not the all-too-solid building.

  “Come on, it’s only a house. If no one’s home, we can look in the windows and shout for your missing person.”

  No one was ever home here. That was the problem.

  Matt rang the doorbell, then banged the knocker for good measure. We heard them echo, but nothing else, so he rapped and rang again.

  A minute later “Hit the Road, Jack!” boomed in our eardrums. The small wooden portico we stood under really was shaking now. “And do not come back anymore anymore anymore.”

  “Some juvenile delinquent’s playing tricks with a karaoke machine,” Matt said, when he caught up with me back at the car where I was tugging at the door handle of the locked SUV. “Nothing else.”

  “You’re not scared?”

  “I’m too dumb to be scared of a silly prank. Come on, let’s try again.”

  This time when he pushed the doorbell he also shouted, “We just want to ask if a professor is here, a Dr. Harmon. We do not wish to bother you. We’ll go as soon as you answer that one question. Otherwise we’ll call the cops.”

  “Shame,” sang out. “Shame on you.” Now the door trembled. Not just my knees or the porch roof, but Matt’s hand shook, too.

  “That was no karaoke machine.”

  His face turned a shade paler. I’m sure mine had no color at all. How could it, when my heart stopped pumping blood at the first notes?

  “Listen, Mr. House.” Matt banged his fist on the door. “You can’t scare us away like you do everyone else.”

  It can’t? I was ready to run home if that’s what it took to get out of here. If the House wanted the car, fine.

  Matt jiggled the doorknob. I prayed it was locked. Matt stepped back. “I can’t believe we’re talking to a house, but you ask him, Willy. Explain who you are.”

  I cleared my throat but nothing came out. Matt squeezed my hand. “You can do it.”

  Easy for him to say. He had a backbone.

  He squeezed my hand harder. I tried again. “I … I am Willow Tate. They call me the Visualizer, but I can’t see you. That is, I don’t want to see inside you. I just need to know the professor is safe. And talk to him about defeating an ancient adversary of his. We’ll take him away if he’s trespassing. Please?”

  The old timbers sighed. And then they sang something about tally men and bananas and wanting to go home.

  “Huh?” Matt and I looked at each other. Was the House calling us bananas? Now I got insulted. House was the crazy one, not us.

  “Does that mean Dr. Harmon is here or not?”

  The wall sang again. This time about having no bananas today.

  “Do you know where he is?”

  Now it was “Home on the Range.”

  I thought a second, now that we didn’t seem to be in imminent danger. “Do you mean he is at the ranch where they want to bring horses back? Harborview? Or maybe Third House in Montauk, where they tried to start a buffalo herd?”

  “… thrill on Blueberry Hill.”

  I didn’t know of any Blueberry Hill in Paumanok Harbor or Montauk, and these songs were older than I was. How long had the House been this way?

  I stamped my foot on the landing by the front door. “Stop playing games with us! Either tell us or … or I’ll call in the fireflies to set you on fire. If you know anything about me at all, you know I can do it!”

  I couldn’t, and the House knew I couldn’t, which proved it knew more about Paumanok Harbor and the otherworld than it did about modern day music. It chuckled and rocked slightly on its foundation. Matt and I stepped off the front stoop. The House started to croon “The Rose.”

  I shouted over the sappy song. “Professor, if you are here, make a noise. Any noise except this bad Bette Midler imitation.”

  “I thought it was Streisand, myself.” Matt started humming along. “Have you ever heard the George Jones version?”

  “What are you, crazy? A frigging house is singing to us and you are doing a ‘name that tune’ thing?”

  The House ignored us and kept on about love being a flower and you its only seed.

  “Yeah, yeah, and in the spring—” Rose? Blueberry Hill? “He’s at Rosehill! Because it’s going to be part of Royce Institute, the professor’s home. That’s got to be it! And I stayed there for a week in the spring. That’s where I must have seen the green bathroom fixtures.”

  Matt shook his head. “Can’t be. They’re working there. Someone would have noticed an elderly gentleman in a bathtub.”

  The House repeated the last verse about blooming in the sun’s kiss.

  “It’s huge. Who knows where they’re working. And Cousin Lily, she’s the housekeeper, went to visit her daughter and the new baby while the renovation is going on.”

  “Okay, let’s call the police and get them out there.”

  I wasn’t ready to admit to anyone how the House sang clues. How embarrassing could that be, especially if I guessed wrong? Besides, the police station was full of strangers who’d lock me up instead of looking. “I think we have to check it out ourselves.”

  He looked at his watch. “Okay, let’s get going. I’ve still got company coming tomorrow and I promised you an ice cream.”

  The House sang, “I Never Promised You a Rose Garden.”

  I put my palm flat on the door and tried to picture gratitude, smiles, reunions, Professor Harmon with his arms out, hugging a house, hugging a rosebush, then a willow tree. “And if we find him, I’ll buy you a radio, so you can listen to some new music.”

  Then, before we could turn toward the car, stuff started flying out of the extra-wide mail slot: calendars, cellophane packs of Christmas cards, return address labels, dream catchers and paper poppies, even a couple of shrink-wrapped fleece blankets. All the crap charities send people in hopes they’ll feel guilty enough to make donations. Which the nonprofits use to send more garbage no one wants. I’ve never understood why they don’t just feed the hungry, heal the sick, save the planet, etc., without filling the trash cans.

  Matt stepped out of range. “Is it throwing the stuff at us?”

  “I think it’s giving us gifts.” I shouted a thank you to the house and handed Matt two of the clear-covered blankets. One had dogs and cats on it. All I could see of the other was red, white, and blue. “Here, you can use these for the dogs in the kennel. Or on the bed in the guest room.”

  CHAPTER 25

  THE CLOSER WE GOT TO ROSEHILL, the more confident I felt that we’d find the professor. I mean, the House could have tossed shingles at us. It could have sung “Gone,” “Blowin’ in the Wind,” or a zillion other sad old songs. And I hadn’t panicked. After the first couple of songs, anyway. “We did it!”

 
; “You rock, kiddo.” Matt leaned over at a stop sign and kissed me.

  Which rocked my world. Wrong time, wrong place, but feeling all right.

  Matt started singing “The Rose,” so I chimed in.

  “Okay, so you can’t carry a tune. But you’re damn near perfect anyway. What’s the plan for getting into Rosehill? Or locating the professor if the place is so big? And what if the old man needs medical help?”

  “You’re a vet. You’ve got your bag.”

  “With no defibrillator, no blood pressure cuff, no oxygen mask.”

  My great plan began and ended with finding Dr. Harmon and letting him save the world. Hmm.

  So I called the police station—not 9ll—on my cell and asked for Big Eddie. The officer who answered wanted to know my name and business.

  “It’s personal. He missed our date last night.”

  “Poor lie, Willy, even if my nose didn’t twitch. Big Eddie hasn’t had a date in three years.”

  Not only did I get another of Paumanok Harbor’s truth-seers, but I had to get a gossipy one with instant voice recognition, too. “Well, I still wish to speak to Big Eddie without all the out-of-town cops listening in.”

  “Roger that, the Feebies haven’t done anything but complain about our coffee. Hey, Ed,” he called out, “you have a personal call on the line. She sounds hot. Why don’t you take it in the interview room so we don’t have to see you call up your credit card number?”

  When Big Eddie answered, I said, “This is an anonymous call in reference to the missing cruise ship passenger.”

  “Shit, Willy, you got me excited for nothing.” I heard him close a door. “So what’ve you got?”

  “I think he’s at Rosehill. I need your nose to locate him there, Keys to get us in, and an EMT in case he’s ill. Off the record.”

  “Got it. I should pull half the force out on an untraced phone call. Want to tell me how you found him when we’ve all been chasing shadows?”

  “Nope. Just meet us there. And keep it quiet in case I’m wrong. An anonymous tip, all right?”

  “Chief ain’t going to like this, Willy. He’ll be moaning and groaning if I tell him a lie. Then he’ll take the stomach pills out of my pay.”

  “Okay, bring him, too. But no one else.”

  Funny, some of the worst moments of my life happened here at Rosehill, but I wasn’t afraid to come back. I was drugged, dragged to a car, kidnapped, and almost killed by a Hollywood starlet and her maniac father, but the house didn’t talk.

  No one did, when I tried to use the call box at the mechanical security gate.

  “They must not work on Saturdays.”

  I tried the combination in use when I stayed here. It still worked. The gate popped open for us to drive up the long entryway and park in front of the majestic old mansion. The place was going to make a great learning and research center, with new dormitories and cottages being built in the far wooded corners of the property. We could see the raw rafters and bare wood frames from here, but the workers mightn’t have noticed an elderly gentleman at the big house.

  Big Eddie and Keys arrived a few minutes later, with the police dog in the back of the unmarked squad car. Then Russ roared in on a motorcycle, though I hadn’t asked for him. He stood ready to disable the security system, which I should have thought of, so I was glad he came. Next an ambulance drove through, sirens and lights off, thank goodness, or we’d have the whole town on the alert. The chief pulled up in his official vehicle, and Mrs. Ralston, my grandmother, and Judge Chemlecki got out. Then Lou from DUE sped up the long driveway in a Lexus.

  I jabbed my finger in Big Eddie’s chest. “Did you have to bring half the village council with you? This might be a wild goose chase.”

  “Your granny was with the chief when I went to tell him. You think I’m going to tell her she can’t come? She called Lou, because this sounds like DUE business, and he’s staying at her house. The chief thought we needed Russ, and he needs to get away from that computer for a little while. And Mrs. Ralston almost decked the prison guard detailed to watch her. We figured she ought to claim a headache and go home. His honor has a blank search warrant, just in case, and those are my cousins manning the ambulance. They’ll keep it quiet unless we have to make a run to the hospital.”

  “How’d you get everyone together without tipping off the Feds and the state cops?”

  “Lunch hour, a doctor appointment, the ambulance needed service, and the mayor called a press conference to discuss the recent events. The undercovers disappeared and the rest of the big shots focused on getting their faces on TV instead of noticing the rest of us gone missing.”

  I supposed we needed two experienced emergency personnel, one to administer aid and one to drive. And the computer wizard could keep the security company from calling out the rest of the police force. A search warrant was a good idea, in case the CIA sent someone after us. Mrs. Ralston I could understand, but my grandmother? Sure, her reputation alone got her through any door she wished, and to hell with alarms and police lines, but she shouldn’t be climbing stairs and searching the attics.

  “Of course I had to come,” she told me, and everyone else. “I attended a lecture once by Dr. Harmon. He was impressive. Now he might be the single most important person in Paumanok Harbor.”

  “After your granddaughter,” Lou added.

  Grandma Eve snorted.

  Damn, now everyone looked at me, waiting for me to pull the professor out of my pocket. Just what I never wanted, the weight of the world on my quivering, quaking shoulders. Matt put his arm around me. He understood.

  I glared at Lou, who did not. The senior agent from the Department of Unexplained Events intimidated me at the best of times. Now, with a weapon in his hand—okay, it was a thermos of coffee—he was terrifying. I didn’t know his talents, and didn’t know why he expected so much of me. I used to call him Lou the Lout, when he played the lecher who lived under the building across the street from my apartment. How was I supposed to know he stared at me because he was my assigned bodyguard? He dressed like a bum. Then he changed into a polished chauffeur, a ratty farmhand, a debonair senior citizen. Now, damn it, he was shacking up with my grandmother! He resembled a drug lord today; clean-shaven, long hair pulled back with a thong, an Armani suit and Ferragamo loafers.

  He returned my glare with a wave. “This better not be your imagination working overtime, Willow. It’s too crucial to mess up.”

  As if I didn’t know that. “All right, here’s what we’re looking for: a bathroom with green rugs and crystal faucet knobs with green inserts. The professor might not be there anymore, but that’s where he used to be. Joe the plumber saw him.”

  Everyone nodded, knowing I didn’t mean Joe’d come upon the lost survivor while changing a washer.

  “We’ll take the guesthouse,” Lou said. “Where my guys stayed last time.” He led my grandmother to the path that led past the tennis courts.

  Mrs. Ralston and one of the EMTs set out for the apartment over the garage. That’s where Grant was supposed to stay, pretending to be a writer or something needing privacy. He stayed with me instead. I did not mention that.

  Big Eddie’s other cousin stayed with the ambulance, on call. We all entered his private cell number on our phones.

  Big Eddie and his K-9 partner, Ranger, started circling the main house, Ranger’s head low to the ground, Big Eddie walking beside him.

  “He’s got nothing to sniff for,” Matt said. “The dog needs a referent, a glove, a shoe, something the professor touched.”

  “Yeah, but Big Eddie doesn’t. He’ll sniff for salt water, damp clothes, maybe the soap they gave out on the cruise ship. He’ll recognize that by now. And fear.” I worried I’d distract him, with the nervous perspiration trickling down my back.

  Keys went around and unlocked the back door after Russ disabled the security system. They both moved on to the outbuildings to give the others access.

  Uncle Henry and the judge start
ed with Rosehill’s basement, the wine cellar, the utilities rooms, the extensive home gym that had a shower and a sauna. No bathtub.

  Matt and I took the first floor. We could skip Cousin Lily’s apartment toward the back. I’d stayed there, and the bathroom was all white, with thick white rugs and towels. Matt said he’d check in case Lily redecorated.

  On my own, I moved from kitchen to library to sitting room to TV room to vast dining room, calling out to the missing man. I didn’t get any answer, but I felt better about wandering through the vacant house. I lost count of how many bathrooms the place had, but none of them had green rugs.

  Matt came back and we went to the second floor. The chief and the judge passed us on their way to the top floor and the attics.

  I spotted the guest bathroom with the Jacuzzi I’d bathed in, and where I’d conked Grant over the head with a pitcher of silk flowers when I thought he was an intruder. The pitcher had not been replaced. The knobs on the faucets were white porcelain with flowers painted on them to match the shower curtain, the tiles and the missing vase.

  The master suite had two tubs, a hot tub and another Jacuzzi, plus a shower big enough to wash an elephant. But no green rugs or crystal handles.

  Nor did any of the five other bathrooms we found on the next floor up, or in the attic.

  Uncle Henry was sweating from the heat in the attic. I guess the air conditioner didn’t cool that high. On a clear, warm day like this, the sun beat down on the roof, making that top floor an oven. The judge had found a seat on a divan in a vast room that had once been a ballroom. It was destined to be a lecture hall soon. Matt came out of the attached restrooms, shaking his head.

  The chief sank onto the divan next to the judge. “Okay, Willy. Tell me why we’re here.”

  “The House sang.”

  He took out a handkerchief and mopped his forehead. “This house?”

  “No, the House. On Shearwater Street.”