‘You bet,’ she said. ‘See you then.’
Dana found Tuck upstairs near the entrance to Lilly Thorn’s room. ‘That was quick,’ Tuck said.
Dana nodded, grinning.
‘What happened?’
‘Well, a Japanese tour bus showed up and Warren couldn’t have lunch with me.’
‘Ah. And that makes you giddy – why?’
‘He asked me over to his place! Right after work!’
‘Today?’
‘Yep. And we’re gonna eat there.’
‘So I shouldn’t expect you for supper?’
‘Nope.’
‘Throwing me over for a guy, huh?’
‘You better believe it.’
‘How’ll you get home?’
Dana shrugged.
‘Maybe you should spend the night with him. Then you’d just have a convenient little hike to work in the morning.’
‘I’m not going to spend the night with him.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I know.’
‘Do you want me to pick you up at a certain time?’
‘He’ll probably drive me home.’
‘What if he won’t?’
‘Why wouldn’t he?’
Tuck shrugged. ‘He might not want you to leave. Or you two might not be speaking to each other by the time you’re ready to go. Or he might get drunk and pass out. Or . . .’
‘Has he done anything like that?’
‘Not that I know of. But guys will be guys.’
‘I’m sure he’ll be fine. But if he does give me trouble, I’ll call you.’
‘He doesn’t have a phone.’
‘Really?’
‘You’ll be trapped like a moose.’
‘Up yours.’
‘Tell you what. If you’re not home by a certain time, I could drive over and pick you up.’
Dana grimaced. ‘I don’t know if that’s such a great idea.’
‘Couldn’t hurt. If you’re home by then, it’s a moot point. If I get there and you want to stay with Warren, that’ll be fine, too.’
‘I guess that’d be okay.’
‘What time? Two a.m.?’
‘Very funny. How about midnight?’
‘Fine.’
‘But I’ll be home long before then.’
‘Let’s hope not.’ She gave Dana’s arm a pat, then said, ‘I’d better go downstairs and spell Clyde. ‘See you . . .’
‘Excuse me?’
Looking over her shoulder, Dana found a husky young man standing behind her.
‘Oh, hi,’ Tuck said to him. ‘John?’
He beamed. ‘John it is. That’s right.’
‘Hi, John,’ Dana said, turning around. She’d noticed him earlier, herself. Hard not to notice a guy that size wearing black-rimmed glasses and a Beast House cap. She’d seen him up here before she went off to lunch.
The way he’d been wandering around, taking photos of everything in sight and fiddling with his tape player, she’d pegged him as a true aficionado of the house.
‘John and I are old buddies,’ Tuck said.
‘I’ve got pictures of her with Gus,’ John explained, patting his camera.
‘Gus is the one that’s hung,’ Tuck said.
‘Can I get a picture of you two together?’ John asked. ‘I’ll send you a couple of copies.’
‘Sounds good to me,’ Tuck said. ‘How about it, Dana?’
‘Sure, why not?’
‘That’s great,’ John said. ‘That’s really great.’ As he took a few steps backward, Dana and Tuck stood side by side. ‘I’m gonna have a great photo album of this place,’ he said, and snapped a shot. ‘Hang on. Let me get a couple more, just in case.’
He clicked more than a couple more.
Sidestepping, ducking, zooming in for closeups, he took shot after shot.
‘I have to get going,’ Tuck said.
‘Ah. Fine. No problem. Okay if I get a couple with my flash, just in case?’
‘Well . . .’
The flash blinked, hitting them with a flick of brightness.
‘I’ve got [flash] high-speed film in here [flash] but you never can be too sure. It’s awfully [flash] dark in this place [flash].’
‘That’s enough, John.’ Tuck put a hand across her eyes. ‘Knock it off.’
‘Oh. Okay. Fine.’ He lowered the camera. ‘I really appreciate it. You’ll never know how much I appreciate it.’
‘Don’t forget to send us copies,’ Tuck said.
‘Oh, I won’t. But I guess I’ll need your names and stuff.’
Tuck reached into a seat pocket of her shorts. She took out a wallet and removed a business card. ‘Here you go. You can send them to me, and I’ll see that Dana gets copies.’
He took the card, squinted at it, then smiled and slipped it into a pocket of his enormous, wrinkled shirt. ‘Will do,’ he said. ‘And thanks again.’
He hurried away.
‘I think he’s in love with you,’ Tuck said.
‘Eat my shorts.’
‘Bet he’d like to eat what’s in ’em.’
‘Hey, real nice. Aren’t you supposed to be relieving Clyde, or something?’
‘Oh, yeah. Thanks for reminding me.’ She slugged Dana’s arm. ‘See ya later, alligator.’
‘In a while, crock-a-shit.’
Laughing, Tuck headed for the stairs.
More than half an hour went by before the Japanese tour group entered the house. When Dana heard them flood in, she crouched and looked down the stairs. The foyer was packed.
A lot of flash photos were being taken.
But Tuck was down there, smiling and nodding and making no objections.
A slim young woman carrying a miniature flag seemed to be in charge of the group. She spoke loudly and clearly in Japanese. It made no sense at all to Dana, but every so often the guide spoke familiar names: Lilly Thorn, Ethel Hughes, Beast House, Maggie Kutch.
She couldn’t spot a Beast House tape player around the neck of anyone in the bunch.
They probably all know English, she thought. But it would be better to get the tour in their own language.
She wondered how long they would be staying downstairs.
Five minutes, maybe?
Dana stood up, turned away and walked the entire floor, looking into rooms and counting heads from one end of the corridor to the other.
Twenty-eight already up here.
Gonna get crowded.
Should I warn them?
So they can do what? she wondered. Evacuate the building and come back later?
Most of those in the hallway were wandering around as if lost in trances, their eyes blank as they listened to the tapes.
Hell, they might not even notice.
Thinking it might be nice to greet such a large bunch of visitors from so far away, Dana returned to the top of the stairs. A few people were coming up, but they didn’t belong to the group.
She nodded and stepped out of the way.
‘A real traffic jam down there,’ said the man in the lead. He was about the age of Dana’s father, and had a nice smile.
The woman, trudging up behind him, said, ‘The traffic jam’ll be up here before you know it, Herbie.’
‘I’m afraid you’re right,’ Dana said. ‘If you’d like, you could leave for a while and come back after they’re gone. We have a nice snack stand . . .’
‘Oh, I don’t think I could make it up these stairs again,’ the woman said. ‘We’ll just have to make do the best . . .’
‘Lance?’
‘. . . we can.’
‘Lance!’
Dana jerked her head to the left.
‘Lance! Where are you?’
She spotted the woman in the middle of the corridor, a frantic look on her face. The headphones hung around her neck.
Did she lose her kid? Dana wondered.
She looked awfully young to have a wandering kid.
Hands out, palms up
, she turned slowly as she looked around.
‘Lance!’ she cried out. ‘Where are you? Answer me this minute!’
Dana ran toward her.
Every other tourist in the corridor seemed to be watching. Some were pulling off their headphones.
She stopped in front of the woman. ‘Who’s missing?’ she asked.
‘My boy. He was right beside me a minute ago, and suddenly he . . . he just disappeared.’
Dana snatched the walkie-talkie off her belt and thumbed the talk button. ‘Tuck,’ she said. ‘We’ve got a missing boy. Over.’
‘Nobody’s getting past me. Describe the kid.’
‘How old is he?’ Dana asked the mother.
‘Nine.’
‘Hair color?’
‘Blond.’
‘He’s nine years old,’ she told Tuck. ‘Blond hair.’
‘How long has he been . . . oh, great. Here come the . . .’ The walkie-talkie went silent, but Dana heard Tuck anyway. ‘Hold it!’ Tuck yelled. ‘Yoshi, wait! Tell them to stop and stay away from the stairs. We have a problem.’
In a loud, clear voice, the Japanese tour guide started giving instructions to her group.
Dana turned her attention to Lance’s mother. ‘How long has he been gone?’
‘Just a minute or two,’ she said, her voice pitched high.
‘You there, Tuck?’
‘Yeah. Everything’s under control down here. For now.’
‘The kid’s been gone a couple of minutes.’
‘He has to still be up there. Look around. He probably wandered off by himself. Get back to me in about two minutes.’
‘Will do.’ Dana turned to the mother. ‘He can’t get out. Don’t worry, we’ll find him. Where were you when you noticed he was . . .’
‘Is somebody looking for a kid?’
‘Yes!’ Dana called out.
A girl stepped forward. About ten years old, she looked like a tomboy in her short haircut and bib overalls. ‘A little creep with yellow hair?’
The mother scowled. ‘He’s not a creep.’
‘Matter of opinion, ma’am,’ said the girl. ‘Anyway, he ducked under the rope over there and ran up into the attic.’
‘When was this?’ Dana asked.
‘Just before this lady started going all hysterical.’
‘Was anybody with him?’ Dana asked.
‘Nope. He was all by himself. You should’ve seen the look on his face. He thought he was being oh-so-cute, but he wasn’t. I don’t happen to find it cute at all, breaking rules.’
Dana grinned at the girl. ‘Neither do I. Thanks a lot for your help.’
‘You’re welcome.’
‘What’s your name?’
‘Janey.’
‘Stick around, Janey.’ Raising the walkie-talkie, Dana hurried toward the attic. Tourists in the corridor stepped aside to let her by. ‘Tuck? I just found a witness. Sounds like Lance took an excursion into the attic. I’m on my way.’
‘Did he go up on his own?’
‘That’s what I hear.’
‘Okay. Keep your speak button depressed. I wanta hear what’s going on.’
‘Right.’
At the attic doorway, Dana looked up the dark stairs. The entrance at the top looked like a black slab.
Unhooking one end of the cordon, she called, ‘Lance, please come down from there. It’s dangerous. We don’t want you to hurt yourself.’
Lance didn’t answer.
Dana swiveled around to face those who were clustered nearby. ‘I don’t want anyone coming up the stairs after me. The attic is off limits. Okay?’
‘Want me to stand guard for you?’ asked Janey.
‘Sure. Thanks.’
Janey came over to the doorway. She turned toward the onlookers and folded her arms across her chest.
Dana started to climb the stairs. ‘Lance,’ she called. ‘I’m coming up to find you. Why don’t you . . .?’
Out of the darkness above her came a squeal.
Her skin rippled with goosebumps.
She raced up the stairs, taking them two at at time, her strong legs pumping.
Mixed in with the sound of her shoes striking the planks and the stairs creaking and groaning as she charged toward the top, she thought she heard other sounds.
Gaspy whimpers and quick footfalls.
Then something pale lurched into the black doorway and came down at her.
Is it him?
Dana had a quick urge to scream.
‘Stop!’ she yelled.
‘It’s after me!’ the boy cried out.
He dodged to the other side of the stairway to get past Dana but she dropped the walkie-talkie and grabbed the banister with her right hand, flung out her left arm and hooked him across the chest. His whole weight suddenly tried to rip her backward and hurl her down the stairs, but she clung to the rail. The impact turned her sideways. Then the kid lost his momentum and she swung him in against her body.
‘Let me go!’ he gasped, thrashing. ‘Let go! It’s coming!’
‘Calm down,’ Dana said. She started carrying him down the stairs.
‘Let me go! It’s gonna get us!’
‘Nothing’s going to get us.’
‘Hurry!’
Rushing down the stairs, she listened for sounds of footfalls behind her. She had an urge to look over her shoulder.
Only a few steps from the bottom, she thought, Made it. No matter what, I’ll make it to the hall before it gets me.
Get real, she told herself. Nothing’s up there.
She scampered down the final stairs and carried Lance out of the stairwell.
The onlookers applauded. She heard calls of ‘Thata girl!’ and ‘Good going,’ and ‘Nicely done.’
She set Lance onto his feet and turned him around to face her. Holding him by the sides, she crouched and said, ‘Everything’s all right, Lance. Everything’s fine.’
He gazed with wide eyes up the stairwell behind Dana. He was gasping and shaking.
‘Nothing’s up there,’ she said.
‘Oh yes, it is.’
Keeping hold of him, Dana checked him out from head to foot. His pale blue T-shirt was dark with sweat. It felt hot and damp under her hands.
Lance didn’t seem to be injured.
She turned him around.
No damage that . . .
‘Don’t you ever do that again! Do you hear me! Don’t you EVER! You scared the daylights out of me!’
‘I was just . . .’
Smack!
He flinched in Dana’s hands.
She stood up fast. ‘Hey!’
He started crying.
‘Don’t you hit him,’ Dana snapped.
‘I’ll hit him if I want.’ As if to demonstrate, Lance’s mother hauled back for another swing at his face.
‘No!’ Dana caught her wrist.
‘Let go of me!’
‘Don’t hit the kid,’ Dana said. ‘It isn’t nice to hit little kids.’
The mother spat at her.
The gob of saliva landed on Dana’s uniform blouse just above her left breast.
‘Lady,’ Dana said.
Then Janey kicked the woman in the leg.
‘Ow! You little twat!’ Her left hand darted at Janey.
As the girl leaped away, Dana jerked the woman’s right arm and swung her around and slammed her against the wall.
‘That’s enough!’ Dana shouted in her face.
The woman blinked.
The spit had soaked through Dana’s shirt. She felt its cool wetness against her skin.
With both hands, she clutched the front of the woman’s white T-shirt. ‘Calm down!’
‘Let go of me!’
‘You cannot go around hitting people,’ Dana said.
Or spitting on them, she thought.
And she smelled the woman’s spit on her shirt. Felt it against her skin, and smelled it. It smelled like jasmine. It smelled like sneeze.
She suddenly gagged.
‘Let go of me, or I’ll . . .’
Dana felt it suddenly coming. She had time to turn away. But she chose not to. She kept her grip on the mother’s T-shirt and lurched forward and threw up in her face.
For lunch, she’d had a Red-Hot Beastie Weenie, Beastly Chili Fries with cheese, and a strawberry flavored milkshake called a ‘Bucket of Blood.’
Chapter Thirty-Three
Sandy’s Story – July, 1992
The sight of Terry’s badge seemed to freeze Sandy’s mind. She gaped at it.
For God’s sake, don’t faint! Don’t scream and run! Just act normal.
Sure thing.
Keeping her eyes on the badge, she tried to sound like Cagney as she said, ‘So, you’re a copper?’
‘Right. Fort Platt Municipal Police Department.’
‘I’m supposed to believe that?’
‘If I’m not a cop, I’ve got a mighty fine shield and i.d. Look at that photo. That’s me, right?’
She stared at the i.d. photo. ‘Yep.’
‘So I’m either a real cop or a really slick bad guy. But that isn’t the point.’ He flipped the police i.d. over. Underneath it was his driver’s license. ‘Look. See the address there? Fourteen Beach Drive? That’s my cottage. If you follow me over, you can check the address before you even get out of your truck. If they don’t match up, you can just drive on.’
‘I guess I could do that,’ Sandy said.
She felt numb.
‘Sure,’ she said. ‘Why not?’
‘Great!’
She smiled and nodded and resumed her grocery shopping.
Dazed.
Oh, my God. Oh, God. A cop. He’s a cop. What’m I gonna do?
Go over to his place and kill him?
No, no, no. Can’t do that. He’s a nice guy. I like him. I can’t kill him.
Can’t?
Okay. I could.
But even if I wanted to, all these people are seeing us together. I’d never get away with it.
Just play along. See what happens.
In the checkout line, a couple of customers greeted Terry and he responded as if they were his good friends. The cashier knew him, too. Her nametag read, MARGE. She said, ‘Hey there, Ter. Whatcha up to?’
‘No good, as usual.’
‘Haw!’
As Marge slid the groceries across the scanner, Sandy said to her, ‘Is this guy really a cop?’
‘Oh, I’ll say. He’s a regular terror. Ain’t you, Ter?’
‘That’s me.’
‘You gonna handcuff her?’ Marge asked him.
The Complete Beast House Chronicles Page 82
