Sweet Dreams Boxed Set
Page 65
“So it was a prop in a move,” Danni murmured.
“More than a prop,” Colby said. “Scream Queen Arianna Palacio played a nun as well—the zombie nuns were created to look just like her. With the actress and the five mannequin/puppets, the filmmakers were able to make it look as if an army of the things was swarming. Each was a little…well, eaten away a little differently. Missing flesh, bone sticking out, scabby—in different places. Okay, so the move was no ‘Casablanca’—or even a ‘Friday the 13th,’ but like I said, it wound up with a huge following. It was shot for less than fifty-thousand dollars—a modern miracle in the film world. It grossed millions around the world. And I’m yapping on about a movie when my sister….” he stopped speaking, his voice choked off, and his eyes becoming moist with tears.
Danni reached across the table, setting her long slender fingers over Colby’s hand. “Kathy’s going to be all right; you told us she’s going to be all right.”
Colby nodded. He straightened and shook his head slightly, as if by doing so he could regain his composure. “Broken leg, two broken ribs…serious concussion. But we’re lucky—really lucky. She’s alive. And the driver who hit her wasn’t a drunk or an ass. He stopped and got the cops and an ambulance and the cops called Tracy and me so that we were able to hit the first little plane out of the Bahamas and get back here. It’s less than an hour…still felt like I was so far from her. She’s all I have, you know. My dad died three years ago and my mom…she’s been in a home for the last six months.” He paused again, wincing. “Alzheimer’s and other complications,” he said quietly. “I’ve told the nurses at the home not to even think about trying to tell her about Kathy.”
“Of course not,” Danni murmured.
“So, you want us to go to your place and check out this mannequin puppet, crazy nun thing?” Quinn asked. He was somewhat surprised. Over the years, he’d seen plenty of people freaked out over “scary” creations. Some had real phobias about clowns. Some—dolls in general. With others, it was only puppets.
Quinn was surprised that Colby had called him for several reasons—first, Quinn had visited Colby at home a decade ago before Colby had lost his father and when Colby’s mom had been great and fun and beautiful and completely in her right mind. Their house--the one Colby and Kathy had grown up in--had been filled with incredible things—wild collectibles, reproduction death masks and all kinds of film creatures and other odds and ends of art and whatnot.
Kathy could not have been easily frightened.
And that Colby actually wanted the zombie-nun checked out seemed odd. Did he believe himself that the movie prop or figure was evil?
And was it?
“I want you to get rid of it for me,” Colby said. “Maybe get it back up on the market. People were bidding high for them. Unless….”
“Unless?” Danni asked.
“Unless there is something…bad about it. Then….” Colby spoke quickly, and then his voice trailed just as quickly, as if he were afraid that what he was about to say would sound crazy.
“Then?” Danni asked.
“Burn it. Burn the damned thing. Cut it to pieces. Do whatever you have to do,” Colby said. “You can—you can try to do that, right?”
He seemed to really wonder if the zombie-nun could be burned.
“We can do what you want,” Quinn told him. He hesitated. “We need to see your sister,” he told Colby.
Colby stiffened at that and ran his fingers through his short cut, coal black hair. “I’m trying to get her to forget what happened, to let it become a bad dream.”
“Colby,” Danni said, still gently touching his hand, “we’ll listen to her. Without suggesting that she’s crazy in any way, which, I doubt, anyone has done yet. It’s not a bad dream—she’s in the hospital. We need to understand what she thinks happened—from her. We won’t upset her. I promise.”
Quinn glanced at Danni. She had a way with people—one he was sometimes lacking.
“All right, all right,” Colby said. “But, please….”
“We won’t upset her, and if she’s agitated at all, we’ll leave,” she promised.
That settled it for Colby. “Well, come on up,” he said.
He was polite and anxious as they waited for the elevator. He asked Danni and Quinn how things were in New Orleans and thanked them again for coming so quickly. Quinn told him it wasn’t a problem; they had two co-workers who lived in an apartment above the main house at the shop—they were happy to take care of Wolf—Quinn’s big hybrid dog. The elevator came and once to their floor, they went down the hall. Tracy—Colby’s wife—had been sitting by the side of the bed and she stood quickly as they entered, smoothing her hair back and looking at her husband with relief. Quinn had never met his friend’s wife before—they hadn’t been married more than a year or so. Tracy was tiny, especially next to Colby’s six-foot-three frame and Quinn’s own six-four—even Danni’s five-nine. She was a pretty little woman with a delicate face that easily betrayed emotion and she looked as if she’d been cast in a horror movie herself—and didn’t know her lines.
Ironic, of course, Quinn thought, since Tracy Kennedy was an actress. She and Colby had met, Colby had told Quinn, when they’d filmed Treasure of the Elizabeta Maria, a decent kids’ movie filmed in the keys that had made use of Colby’s company for the dive scenes.
“Oh. People,” Tracy murmured, but Quinn’s attention was then on Kathy Kennedy.
Colby’s younger sister lay on the bed in pathetic condition; her head was bandaged, her leg was in an apparatus that held it up and straight and she was bruised and blue about the eyes and nose. She looked at Quinn, though, as they entered, and he believed that it was a glimmer of hope he saw in her eyes. She’d been a young teenager the last time he’d seen her—pretty, bright—eager and hardworking even then. She loved movies and scripts. She was quick—as they watched a movie that turned out to be pretty darned bad—to point out when the actors weren’t at fault. “What could they do with that horrible script?” she would say.
Tracy cleared her throat and moved out of the way murmuring, “Kathy has been drifting in and out…she’s awake now, I believe.” With her back to Kathy she mouthed to them, “On a morphine drip! Poor girl could say anything, I think!”
Quinn nodded politely as he shook her hand and introduced her to Danni. Then he moved around to smile at Kathy and take the seat next to her.
“Hey, kid, can you talk?”
Kathy nodded. “Quinn. Cool to see you. I had such a crush on you,” she told him.
He was surprised to actually flush. Kathy was looking at Danni. “Hey,” she said. “I hear you own a shop that takes…evil things.”
Danni nodded. “Yes. It was my dad’s. He was great. Now, it’s mine. Quinn and I…work on that kind of thing together. With help from our friends,” she added.
“What we need to know, Kathy, is exactly what happened,” Quinn told the girl in the hospital bed.
Kathy didn’t break into hysterics. She looked at them gravely. “I swear to you,” she said. “It came to life. It had been in the hall. I didn’t like it—but I wasn’t even paying any attention to it. The cat! Even the cat knew…I felt his claws and heard him hiss and I looked up…and it was right there, right in front of the desk.”
“And it had been in the hall?” Quinn asked.
Kathy nodded. “Colby said that he’s left it in the attic, but it was downstairs, in the hall. I tried to run,” she said in a whisper. “And it grabbed me.”
“It has some kind of a battery. Maybe it did move,” Tracy said. “And those old houses like ours…they’re creepy at night. Where we are on Elizabeth is close to the cemetery. We’re not in a tourist area. It can feel dark and as if…almost as if history is weighing down on you.”
“It moved,” Kathy said softly and flatly to Quinn.
He patted her hand. “We’re going to get rid of it—in a way that will make sure it can never, ever come back to hurt you.”
Then they left her; Colby Kennedy followed them out to the hall where Tracy was waiting.
Tracy didn’t look very cute or gamine-ish then. She looked cross—and the expression she had for Quinn and Danni was irritated—and maybe a little desperate.
“What are you doing? Encouraging her in this ridiculous notion?”
“Tracy,” Colby said, uncomfortable.
“Look, she was obviously delusional. I almost think she did it just because Colby and I were actually away on a vacation!” Tracy said.
“Tracy!” Colby was visibly shocked.
“I’m sorry; I’m sorry. I love Kathy, but this is a really serious situation and we have to help her—not feed into her fears. She needs therapy—not people who are just trying to humor her,” Tracy said. “I’m sorry,” she told Danni and Quinn. “I’m just tired. Really tired.”
“Yes, of course,” Danni said. “You must be exhausted.”
Tracy nodded. “Forgive me.”
“They’re just going to go down and get rid of zombie-nun,” Colby said.
“Please, just be careful of the house,” Tracy told them. “That’s horrible. Kathy is here…and I’m worried about the house. This is all just—very upsetting. Oh!” She exclaimed, looking stricken. “The cat!”
“Waldorf,” Colby said. “We have a cat. Actually, Waldorf is old—you might remember him?”
“I do—big fuzzy thing,” Quinn said. “I think he was already several years old when I came to visit you.”
“Don’t worry—we love animals,” Danni said. “We’ll take care of Waldorf.”
“There’s a great guest room downstairs,” Tracy told them. “The master upstairs is ours, of course, and I think Kathy had her things in the second bedroom upstairs.”
“Not a problem,” Danni said. “We’ll be fine wherever.”
“The cat! How could I have forgotten Waldorf?” Tracy asked with dismay.
“You were worried about Kathy, first, of course,” Quinn said.
Colby looked worried then, too. “The cops told me they locked the house, but they didn’t mention the cat. I hope poor old Waldorf isn’t out in the streets somewhere,” he said.
“We’ll find Waldorf,” Quinn assured him.
Colby handed Quinn a set of keys. “Call me?” Colby asked anxiously.
“Of course,” Quinn assured him. “First things first—we’ll find Waldorf.”
As they left the hospital hallway, Quinn could hear Tracy speaking to Colby. “I’m kind of worried. I’m not sure you should have called in kooks from New Orleans. I mean, all of New Orleans is voodoo crazy. We’re just going to make poor Kathy worse. I need coffee; I need a drink! I need something. I’ve got to take a break. I’ll be back soon. I need to get out of here—just for a few minutes.”
Danni glanced at Quinn. She had heard, too.
He arched a brow to her.
“I might rather live with the zombie-nun,” Danni said.
He grinned. She waited until they were heading to the parking lot to speak again.
“What do you think?” she asked him then.
“Tracy is upset, maybe,” he said. “Maybe she’s really nice. Or, maybe, poor Colby—great guy—married a bitch.”
Danni smiled. “I’m far more concerned with Kathy,” she said.
He looked her way and for a moment, he almost forgot who they were—and what they were doing there. It was a beautiful day and the area was stunning. There was a breeze that touched the air around them, making it pleasant when it should have been hot. Palm trees dipped and swayed with it; everything around them seemed cleaned and touched by it. The sky was a soft powder blue just touched here and there by a cloud that looked like a puff of cotton.
And Danni had long, sleek, dark auburn hair that picked up the sunlight and shimmered with sunset hues. She was wearing sandals and a sleeveless white dress that made her look like a stunning co-ed just out for an easy vacation. She made him remember that he was in love, that they were in a tropical paradise, and that he longed to reach out and touch her and lie in the sand and….
They were here because a friend was in trouble.
And Danni’s eyes were large and as brilliantly blue as the sky—and filled with concern.
“About the situation,” Quinn said. “I don’t know what to think. I mean, you and I know that the thing might have…who knows? Been possessed or something. Or, Kathy might have activated it somehow, been tired—she forgets to sleep when she’s working, if I remember right. Anyway, we’ll find out in an hour or so, right?”
She nodded. “Absolutely, oh, fearless leader!” she told him.
He smiled back. Then he sobered and they both looked at one another. Fearless. No. They were both smart enough to be afraid. They had learned the hard way that very strange things—not yet explained by science, if they ever would be—definitely happened.
“Let’s enjoy the drive,” he said softly.
And they actually did. There was nothing like driving along and seeing the rippling blue water in shades of blue and green—touched by diamond glittering here and there as the sun shone down. They crossed over the Seven-Mile Bridge and passed through the lower keys, seeing some that were almost pristine, some with small fishing inns advertised, some with majestic mansions surrounded by nothing but the water and the sea.
As they drove by small islands with names like “No Name Key,” “Cudjoe Key,” and more, Quinn wished that they were on vacation. “If we get this taken care of,” he murmured. “We’ll have to go and see the sunset at Mallory Square. It really is fantastic. And music! The city has so much going on all the time. You’re going to love it.”
“I’ve been once,” she told him. “When I was in school.” She glanced his way. “It was one of Dad’s buying trips—though what he was really buying, I don’t know. I loved it! And Key West actually reminds me a lot of New Orleans.” She grinned. “They have a cool cemetery with a lot of above ground interments. They have Duval Street—we have Bourbon Street. We have French and Spanish architecture and the Garden District—they have amazing old Victorians. Then again—they have great water sports and we have the Mississippi!”
He smiled at her. She was looking out the window. The sun was waning but the sky remained beautiful, turning to different shades of gold and mauve and pink.
They moved on through the lower keys, passing signs that warned them to be careful of the little Key deer. They actually saw one; Danni was delighted.
Finally, they came off of Stock Island and turned off onto Roosevelt, heading for Old Town. By then, the sun had faded away almost completely.
They found the address on Elizabeth Street. They dying sun seemed to encompass the old house in a blood red haze. Colby had been working on the house, Quinn knew, but the columns had been stripped and not re-painted as of yet, giving the Victorian architecture a decaying and ghostly aura.
“I can see where one might get nervous here,” Danni murmured.
“Not Kathy,” Quinn said. “She’s a trooper. She loves spooky things and horror movies and history—no one can tell you the history of this city with greater detail than Kathy. These houses never scared her. I’ll show you the big house she grew up in—that the family still owns. Trust me—Kathy does not scare easily.”
Danni grinned at him. “Maybe I do!” she said.
“A little late for that!” he teased.
They exited the car and headed up the walk to the old porch. The ceiling above the porch was painted blue—“haint blue,” or haunt blue, as it was known. It kept the “spirits” in check, or so went the superstition.
Quinn set the key in the lock and twisted it. The house was dark. He fumbled for a light switch. A chandelier in the center of the parlor blazed.
The house was nice—about two-thousand square feet, Quinn reckoned. Built in
the mid-1800s, maintained by its owners through the decades. The Kennedy family still owned the big house the kids had grown up in, but, Quinn knew from Colby’s call, it had been rented out since his mom had gone into nursing care. Colby had been extremely proud to have purchased this place with his own earnings.
White lace curtains adorned the windows. There was a fireplace with a mantle. Between the living and dining areas there was a desk. Kathy’s computer remained on the desk.
“Nice home,” Danni murmured. “I don’t see the doll—zombie-nun—by the desk…or in the parlor. I do see the cat!”
As she spoke, a silver-gray fur-ball came flying at them. Waldorf actually managed to leap right into Danni’s arms.
“Poor thing is shaking!” Danni said.
“But he’s okay?” Quinn asked.
“Seems to be fine. I’ll make sure he has water and food,” Danni said. Holding the cat, she walked into the kitchen.
“Strange,” Quinn called.
“What’s strange?” Danni asked.
He walked to the hallway, into the kitchen, into the one small downstairs bedroom, and then into the bathroom—all through the downstairs.
“Quinn?” Danni asked.
“Hang on,” he said.
He ran up the stairs and opened the doors to the three bedrooms there, the bathroom, back into the bedrooms, and into every closet.
He ran back down to Danni, frowning.
“Quinn?” she said again.
“I don’t see the doll either,” he told her. “It isn’t anywhere.”
“Maybe someone else—”
“No, no—the police locked the place tight when Kathy was taken to the hospital. Colby is friends with the police chief—he assured him that was true.”
“Then what?” Danni asked. “The zombie-nun walked out?”