“Just having fun...” she bit her lip at him as he stuck his head out from behind the curtain. He winked back at her.
“I'm gonna go back to the library again. Only for a bit. I’ll be back early this time!”
“That's okay, babe. Just give me a ring at the office and let me know otherwise.” He beamed at her.
Karen returned his smile and softly made her way to Sophie’s room. She eased the door open, careful not to wake her.
The young girl was spread eagle on the small bed, the covers gathered uselessly at the foot of the bed.
Karen smirked. She closed the door again.
Making her way up to the attic now, she tried in vain to avoid the creaks. At the top, she put her ear to the door. She couldn’t hear anything.
Opening the door just enough to make out the oddly positioned Marcus. He was face first on the mattress, his butt lifted into the hair. A pool of drool gathered around his head.
Karen allowed them another hour or so of sleep.
Karen retreated down the staircase and into her room.
She selected a simple pair of jeans and a pale blue sweater. A pair of boots lying on their side hid at the back of the shelf. She reached for them. She struggled and had to lean her head and shoulders into the cavity to fetch the boots.
Karen produced them, sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled them on. She then headed down to the kitchen and poured herself some cereal.
She emptied a handful of coffee into the percolator and filled the water chamber.
Flicking the switch, she leant over the island and shoveled Rice Crispies into her mouth. She stared out the window into the beautiful morning sun. Her gaze wandered to the cupboard and its secret contents.
She was itching to get back to Ms. Christie and her historic knowledge.
55
Sophie came bounding down the stairs shortly after James left. She was all smiles and kisses. Marcus took more convincing. A sprightly Sophie jumping up and down on his bed would do the trick.
“Wake up! Wake up!” Sophie squealed. Marcus groaned and tried to turn over but Sophie just leaped to the other side of the bed and continued her harassment.
“If you come down for breakfast, she’ll leave you alone.” Karen smiled from the door.
“Fine!” he cried, laughing now. “I'm up! I'm up!” he grabbed Sophie and pulled her down. She screamed and giggled.
Sophie finished her cereal quickly and asked if she could go watch cartoons.
Karen nodded and gave her an apple, “Eat this, please! You didn't have any fruit yesterday.”
Sophie skipped down the hallway.
Marcus nibbled on his round of toast. The large dollop of strawberry jam that Karen and spread on it dripped jealously down onto his plate.
“Mommy! Mommymommymommymommy!!” Sophie’s desperate cries shattered the quiet.
Karen dropped her mug and staggered out of the kitchen, slipping on the polished wooden floor paving the way.
She skidded into the living room to find the TV on but no cartoons.
Henry Clark grinned menacingly out from the screen. A cold laugh echoed from the television set when Karen began to cry.
Sophie ran into her mother’s arms. The laugh boomed throughout the house now, shaking the walls.
“Mommy! The mean man!”
“I know, baby...” Karen fought her tears. She held Sophie tight to her and stared hard into the killer’s eyes.
Marcus was not far behind his mother, reaching the living room in time to see the ghoulish face on the TV berate his trembling family.
The cackling was almost deafening. Marcus ran to the set and pulled the plug. There was a strange gargled cry and the laughing ceased.
The three looked at each other. None of them spoke.
The weather had made a turn for the worst and rain pelted down hard on the roof and windows of Blackwater House. Karen decided the car was required. The car ride to Otter Creek was silent. Karen wanted to comfort her children but did not know how.
Sophie’s tiny mind was trying to process the scary images Clark had put into her head when he had first appeared. She didn't quite understand all of them. Emma was screaming and the bad man was trying to kiss her. She got another glimpse of a kiss between the two but she was laughing. Her Daddy was covered in blood and holding something sharp. Marcus was hanging from a rafter in the attic, a rope noosed around his neck, and there was a vision of her; Sophie’s pretty flower dress torn and imprinted with blood-red hand marks. Hot, moist breath quivered on her face and a stench of something rotten.
Marcus stared out at the small town as they passed through Main Street. The people bustled back and forth, exchanging ‘good mornings’ to each other. Hardware stores, grocery stores; they continued with their tiny lives they thought so important. Marcus felt sick.
“Bye, kids...” Karen called as they got out of the car. She didn't know what to say. “Don’t worry about today! I’ll sort everything out.”
They did not try to reply. Karen looked into her rear view mirror. She watched as her two children walked towards the front gates. Marcus held his open hand at his side. Sophie took it.
God bless you, Marcus.
Karen arrived at the library shortly after its 8.30am opening time. Ms. Christie was atop a ladder with an impressive collection of books in the crook of an arm. She was placing them into the stacks with surprising dexterity.
“Hello, dearie...” The old woman said without turning. “Did we find our mystery lady?”
“I did---how did you know it was me?!” Karen said chortling.
“Karen, darling, you're the only person who enters a library like a bull!” She looked over her shoulder with a warm smile.
“Well this little bull found some suspect things...Emma Matthews is unlike every other employee; she has no address or family!”
Christie paused mid-arrangement of her books.
She turned, tight-lipped, and fixed Karen with a thoughtful stare.
She then returned to the stacks, set the pile of books she had in her arms atop a shelf and slowly made her way down. Chrisite took one rickety wooden step at a time. She didn't hurry.
Karen felt impatient with her friend. She respected her calm, but she could be impressed later.
Karen had the binders she had borrowed the previous night in her arms. She dropped them on the floor and reached for one with a wooden spoon sticking out from it.
She picked it up and opened it at the relevant page.
“Novel bookmark...” Ms Christie nudged Karen, tongue in cheek.
Karen smiled. She pointed to the line following Emma Matthews’ name.
Christie took the file off Karen and examined it. Finally she said, “She’s the mistress.” She said it blunt and emotionless.
“Where was she living?”
“The house!” Christie looked at Karen. She raised her eyebrows. She thought it obvious.
“The house he shared with his wife and children?!” Karen couldn’t believe what she was suggesting.
“Knowing what we know of him, would it surprise you?” She shrugged. “A huge house like that, secret compartments are probably hidden all over it.” She saw the look on Karen’s face. “I know it sounds like some melodrama but it’s not that far out of one’s imagination!”
“You think?” Karen pondered where it could be. She reminded herself to seek it out later. “Where you think it could be?” Karen ventured.
“I couldn’t begin to guess, I'm afraid...It might not even be there anymore! I’m sure Henry Clark would have covered his tracks, even for a poor orphan girl.”
“I guess...” Karen was reluctant to agree but she knew it was likely considering they hadn’t found it yet.
“So we have a name...we can try and search out any articles from the time, I doubt it will give us any more information.”
The twosome made their way down to the archive room and the microfilm. Searching out what little reports there were f
rom the time, they found articles from 1898.
Page after page rambled about cattle and corn prices. It dispersed social commentary on the current State of the Union among adverts for local fetes and fairs.
On the bottom right corner of the penultimate page of the Blackwater Herald, a small box notified the reader that a young woman was suspected missing. She had failed to report for work, but with no family or friends nearby, no one had reported her missing until several days later. The reporter detailed Emma Matthews’ description and stated that the only thing known about her was that she was Southern; Texas possibly; no one could say anything more about the mystery girl.
Karen sat back in her chair. She let out a long, exasperated sigh. Ms. Christie, who had been reading over Karen’s shoulder, placed a hand on the young mother.
“Don’t worry, dear, you did as much as you could...” Christie said offering a lopsided smile. “We know the identity of the missing woman! Proving Clark murdered her would be virtually impossible; a body would be too badly composed at this point!”
Karen nodded in agreement but inside she was formulating her plan to find the missing girl and putting her soul to rest. Blackwater House was big, but Karen was determined.
She made her ‘goodbyes’ and ‘thank yous’ to the librarian and doddered back to her car. Lost in thought, she almost didn't see the cars coming left and right as she crossed Main Street.
Horns blared but she was oblivious to them as she pondered the layout of the house. She opened her car door and got in. Karen inserted the keys into the ignition and stopped.
She looked back up at the Grand Greek design of the Blackwater Library. She followed the lines of the building; the pillars with their reliefs, the shadowed gaps in the architecture. The inside of the library had been updated, or designed, not to reflect the outside appearance of the library.
The walls of the library were flat; no mirroring of the exterior reliefs, the gaps between the pillars were not visible from inside. Karen had an idea.
56
Karen drove back to the house and made for the kitchen. She took one room at a time, knocking on the walls. She wasn’t quite sure what she was looking for, but she knew if a secret passageway still existed, the walls should be hollow. Each knock on a wall made her heart stop for a second.
What if this one sounds different to the last? She thought panicked.
The wall would sound the same as it did a few feet before. She knew the layout of the house had changed so much over years. Kitchen units or even an entire room now stood in front of, or instead of the secret compartments.
She listened, ear to the wall, every inch of the investigation. Two o’clock arrived and it forced her to abandon her search and pick up Sophie from school.
“Excuse me, Mrs. Dawson?” A fresh faced man said, delicately placing himself in front of Karen and Sophie as they were pushing their way out of the school’s front door.
“Yes?”
“I am Mr. Hardy...Marcus’ teacher...there was an incident today.” Hardy said, choosing his words. “He’s not hurt or anything!” He added hurriedly when he saw the worry on Karen’s face. He sighed and placed a finger to the philtrum of his mouth and looked at the ground.
“What?!” Karen said impatiently.
“He beat another boy up...” Hardy said tight-lipped.
“He did what?!” Karen was furious. “I'm so sorry, Mr. Hardy, Marcus has never been---”
“Mrs. Dawson, please. I know. Marcus is a very good student. It appears that there was some...bullying. This boy had been ‘making fun’?” The teacher said this with a shrug, “Of the fact that your family bought Blackwater House.”
Karen looked confused. “Mr. Hardy, I'm aware of the history of the house...”
“Listen, Mrs. Dawson, I grew up in Blackwater. Every kid knows the story of what happened there. The stories stretch as far as Charlotte! Kids – they perpetuate the urban legends. It’s not until they get older, do they learn the truth.”
“A lot of bad stuff happened there, I get it. What made Marcus so mad as to beat another boy up?” Karen wanted to shake this polite man into frankness.
“It appears the boy had been telling everyone that your husband was going to murder your family...”
Karen’s mouth dropped open. “Whaaa---”She stuttered, her breath taken out of her. “That’s a terrible thing to say!
The teacher held up his hand. “Mrs. Dawson, I know.” He lowered his hand again. “As I was saying, this boy had been saying this for a while and apparently this morning...he said your husband was going to...” He paused and leaned closer, whispering, “disembowel you and strangle your daughter with the entrails...” Hardy leaned back again.
It filled Karen with rage. “And Marcus beat him up? Yea? Good!” she seethed leaning into Hardy’s face.
“Mrs. Dawson, we don’t condone violence. We encourage our students to talk about their issues with each other---”
“Fuck. That.” Karen said annunciating into the teacher’s face. “Some little shit tries to bully my son and when he gets his comeuppance, you blame my son?!” Karen could feel bile rising. She was shaking with anger. She wanted to hit someone. Karen could think of one boy in particular.
A new voice spoke up.
“I'm afraid that’s how the system works, ma’am. Your son has to be reprimanded. The other boy will be as well, don’t worry.”
Karen turned to the voice. A tall, harsh eyed man stood with his arms folded.
“Mr. Newman.” He said extending a hand.
Karen maintained her gaze on him. He retracted the hand.
“I am the principal here. We have a strict no tolerance for violence here. The circumstances surrounding your son’s detention---”
“You’re giving him detention?!” Karen screamed. Sophie started to cry.
“Our hands are tied, Mrs. Dawson...”
“And what about the other boy? Does he get a detention as well?” Karen bit her tongue to save herself from saying more.
“He will be suspended.”
“Good. At least that’s something.” Karen nodded triumphantly.
“Although I must warn you that his parents will probably take issue with it...”
“If that’s the case, just send them to me...”
And with that, Karen took the blubbering Sophie up in her arms and marched across the quad.
Karen soothed Sophie enough in the car ride home that upon their return to Blackwater House, Sophie’s incessant chatter had returned. This kept Karen busy until Marcus’ day had ended as well as her mind off the house. It wandered sometimes to speculation on where poor Emma Matthews’ body could be hidden, but Sophie would giggle over something and it brought Karen’s thoughts back to the living.
The stories of days at school and work followed James’ return. He was still dealing with the fallout from the divorce but Eli Bluth’s family now fought amongst themselves rather than using James as the middle man. This made James life easier as he could stop convening on the issue back and forth. It meant that he heard third hand about the various back-stabbing and accusations flying across the table of the Bluth household table.
“Marcus got in trouble today...” Karen said when James had finished talking.
He slammed his knife and fork down. “What’d he do?”
“He beat a bully up.” Karen said proudly.
“You beat another kid up?” James said through a mouthful of mashed potato.
“Yea...” Marcus said, lowering his head. Karen had already spoken to him, and given her blessing, when she picked him up. He still felt his father’s anger.
“What are they doing?”
“Detention on Friday.”
“That’s it? No suspension?!” He mumbled through the food.
“James! Did you not hear what I said? He beat up a bully!”
“I know. He still fucked up. He has to learn he can’t just go around beating the crap outta people he doesn’t like.” J
ames said, brandishing his knife and fork at Karen. He looked to his son, raising his eyebrows in a ‘tough shit’ expression.
“Don’t you want to know what the boy said to make Marcus do it?” Karen was incredulous.
“Sticks and stones, Kay.” He didn't look up from his dinner.
“It was about you!”
He set his cutlery down and sat back. He held his hands up in exasperation. “What do I care what some kid says about me?”
Karen checked herself. Sophie was looking inquisitively from her mother to her father.
“Later...” Karen said.
Karen washed the dishes later that evening, looking out onto the dark of the lake. She would continue looking for the secret compartment tomorrow.
What is up with James? She thought
He’s just under a lot of stress.
He’s never been like that though, even when we lived in Boston, she continued to herself.
What she needed now was a good night’s sleep...
“And this bothers you?” James said
“That our son is being told that you're going to kill us? Yes, of course it fuckin’ bothers me.”
The two sat up in bed. Karen had waited patiently for James to finish in the bathroom. She sat with her hands on her lap, cigarette perched between two fingers, ready to nab him before he fell asleep.
“Do you believe him?!” James said, exasperated.
“Wha-What the hell are you talking about?!” Karen was crazed. “Children telling each other that my husband is going to strangle my daughter with my own intestines is not what I regard as normal. It disturbs me! I don’t see how you don’t think it’s weird the school aren’t more worried.” She prodded James in his bare chest.
He rubbed the spot she had poked violently.
“This is childish bullshit. Drop it. The boy does his time and that’s that.” James said emphasizing with his finger.
He got out of bed.
“Where are you going now?” Karen asked. Her voice broke.
“Downstairs. Good night.”
Blackwater Page 17
