by Tim Forder
With a war yell the second “nut” announces his intent to avenge his fellow nut. Again Isabella moves to the side as the weapon comes down on nothing. This unexpected follow-through, making contact with nothing, leaves the “nut” off balance. It was no effort for Isabella to trip his legs out from under him. As he becomes yet more lumber for the floor, Isabella gives him a careful kick to the head meant to put him into dreamland, not to kill. She has no qualms about killing this trouble to her evening’s movie events, but the law might frown on her over-doing their job. When she heard the sound of rushing feet from her blind side, she turns ready for battle only to find Jeff rushing to her side, excitedly proclaiming in his youthful exuberance, “Miss Báthory, how is your hand? Is it broken? Is it all right? Do you need EMS to look at your hand?”
“Jeff, calm down. My hand is just fine. (on second thought), well, it is a little painful but I am sure it is still in one piece.”
“But I saw that nunchuck smack into the palm of your hand. How is it your hand isn’t broken from such an impact?”
“Simple trick, really. As the nunchuck closed on my hand I pulled my hand back while grabbing the weapon, hence lessening the blow.” This explanation seemed to quiet Jeff’s questioning mind and leaves him in further awe of his boss.
With the danger subdued, Isabella looked over Jeff’s shoulder to see Mr. Masterson standing at the theatre doorway. By the look on his face, this job is more likely deader than the two “nuts” she just put in dreamland.
The sirens proclaimed the onset of help just keep getting closer. Are they screaming out the end of my employment?
Chapter Twenty
A Death in the Family
A scream from the ground floor destroyed Jack’s fitful slumber, “Jack. ... My god, JACK. Please, for God’s sake wake up and get down here.”
“OK, I’m coming,” I yelled out to the walls, floor and open doorway, especially the open doorway. Somebody had better have just died, waking me like this.
Grudgingly I got up, walked over to my chair valet, grabbed a warm-up suit off the chair and shoes from under the chair. Reluctantly, and still waking up, I moved out of the bedroom, and headed down the stairs. I was surprised that Elaine hadn’t awakened, with all this yelling going on. As I was going down the stairs, I thought, All this had better not be over another spider or daddy-long-legs or I swear someone is going to die.”
When I entered the living room, Di grabbed my arm and pulled me into the dining room. She spun me so that I was facing the hallway which led to her sister’s room.
“Di. What is this all about?” I asked still groggy from my rude awakening.
“Go. Go down the hall into Chris’s room and see for yourself.”
I was tempted to say, “See what? I’m blind,” but this did not seem to be a good time for joviality. Something had really gotten Di spooked. It was starting to get me spooked as well, and I did not even know why.”
I walked down to Chris’s room as ordered, I wish I could remember Chris’s room’s layout better, haven’t seen her room in years. Maybe I should have asked Di for some visual help- nope, for what very reason, she obviously wanted me to come down alone and is clearly upset about something. With my mind too much on my thoughts I bumped my shoulder lightly against a door frame, I realized that I had arrived a few feet sooner than I had expected. It’s been years since I have even looked into Chris’s room let alone walked in.
“Chris? Chris, is everything alright?” I asked, tentatively.
No answer.
Not a good sign. Feeling as if I was walking into a morgue, I made a point of remembering the room layout, Chris’s bed would be about 10 o’clock to her doorway, about four feet to the forward left. Cautiously I enter the room and walked toward the direction I believed the bed to be in, cautiously because, from my visual days, I recalled that Chris did not have the neatest bedroom around, then neither does her sister. Possibly this disaster area décor was a family thing.
Bumping into the bed, I gently moved my hand down and forward until I encountered cold, deadly cold (?) skin. Please, not dead skin, I silently prayed. Moving my hand, I quickly realized that it was Chris’s wrist that I had found, and it was cold, all too cold. Out of reflex, I flinched. Forcing myself, I moved my hand up her cold death-like arm to her shoulder. From her shoulder, I found my way to her neck, and from her neck I felt my way to her slightly parted lips—the whole time my skin is crawling at the unnatural coolness of her skin. I also realized that during the whole time I had been feeling her body, she had not made a single noise or movement in protest. Really a bad sign.
Against all judgment that was screaming “turn and run away” I moved my hand up to her nose and felt—nothing, no feeling of breathing at all. I just couldn’t let that be the final ruling, so I moved my other hand down to her chest to feel for movement, for any sign of breathing–and I found none.
“Is she ... is she...” Di interrupted my investigation.
Hmmm, here I thought Di too upset to come down here, keeping her from having to finish her sentence, even if she could. “I believe so.” Then I realized that I had failed to finish the sentence. I assumed from Di’s silence she got the message.
On a whim, I brought my hand up from her unmoving chest and felt the side of her neck...
“What ... what are you doing?” Di asked.
“Feeling for a pulse,” I lied. What I found were two punched marks on the side of the neck, like a snake would make except for being too far apart—more like a vampire would make.
Di asked, shakily, “What should we do?”
“I guess, call the police,” I answered.
“Is that necessary? You know she had a possible heart problem.”
No, I did not know that she had a possible heart problem. “What is this about a heart problem?” I asked, a little disturbed at this sudden enlightenment.
“I thought I told you. Chris has been having some medical problems, so I had been taking her to see her doctor. Why, just last week, Chris went through a number of medical tests on her heart. In fact, I was trying to wake her so that we’d make her doctor appointment later today. We were supposed to see her doctor for the results of those tests.”
“Maybe before we call the police we should call her doctor and see what he has to say.”
“I’ll do that right now.” I heard Di rush down the hallway already going for the dining room phone.
I went back upstairs, not to resume my sleep, but to change from my leisurely warm-up suit to my street clothes. It looked like we’d be going out today.
While I was changing into my street clothes it occurred, not for the first time, that this was now a more difficult job then I had planned for originally. Back then, preparing for the most likely chance of going blind, I began changing my wardrobe to all white shirts with my pants in navy blue or black. I figured I would have no problem if and when I couldn’t see to dress, if all my clothes were in the same color scheme. Of course, after we married, my loving wife insisted in putting color back into my wardrobe. Her loving logic was, “I’ll always be there to help you pick out your shirts and pants and make sure you are color coordinated. Right. Now I have to feel for a Braille tab with the basic color of my clothes on the labels. As for my socks, they are still all basic navy blue. All my shoes were black, except for my tennis shoes (it’s easy enough to feel the difference between my work or dress shoes and my soft-sided tennis shoes).
I turned at the sound of Diana walking into the room, “So Di, did you get to talk with Chris’s doctor? If so, what did he have to say?”
In a sad tone I heard, “Yes. First I got his secretary, receptionist, whatever, who put his nurse on the phone. She got the doctor on the phone. He was not surprised at the news. When we were to see him today he was going to recommend putting her into the hospital for additional tests, possibly leading to some surgery.”
She continued, “He asked that I call him back when we have a funeral home for her
and his nurse would see that a fax of a signed death certificate be sent there. Should we call your father?”
“I was thinking the same thing, with Dad working at a funeral home and all. He should be lots of help.”
“Will you call? I don’t think I could make another phone call,” she asked with her voice trailing off.
“No problem.” I hope. I wasn’t exactly feeling non-emotional about the loss of my sister-in-law, but I had to keep my cool for Diana’s sake.
I called dad from the bedroom phone so Di could hear something of the conversation, if only my half of the conversation.
Mom answered. Great, this is difficult enough. “Hi, Mom. Is Dad home?”
“No he’s at work. Is there a problem? Your voice is sounding strange.”
I really can’t get into this with mom. “Please give me his work number. I’ll let him explain later. Right now I really need his work phone number. I really need to talk to Dad.” I was hoping that Mom got the message how desperately I needed to talk to Dad.
“Jack, something is wrong.”
Cutting her off, I replied, “Mom, I really can’t get into this right now. Please give me the phone number.”
She gave it to me.
I did not realize that I had just hung up on my mother until right after I did it. Now she’s going to know something is wrong. I am never so rude as to just hang up on my mother.
I called the phone number for Universal Funeral Home, and explained to the person who answered that I was James Poisner’s son and needed to talk to him. I finished with “... it’s important.”
“Unfortunately, your father is presently driving the hearse to the carwash, but he is due back anytime now.” As my heart sunk at having to wait until later to talk to Dad, the gentleman said, “What do you know, the hearse is driving in as we speak. It just drove past the front window. He will be parking it in the back, and coming in the back door, just hold a second and I’ll get him for you.”
It seemed like a black hole in time had passed, then I heard what might be the phone being picked up and a very familiar voice said, “Son, is everything alright?”
I barely croaked out, “Chris is dead.”
“What happened?”
“Heart attack.” was all I could get out.
“Are you alright? How’s Diana?”
“We’re managing.” Short answers seemed to be the best I could handle right now.
“I’m sure you are. You just take care of your wife, and I’ll see to the rest.... Son, have you done anything about a death certificate?”
“Di, give me that phone number for her doctor.”
She did, slowly and carefully. I put the ear to the phone preparing to pass it on when I heard, “I got it.... Hold one quick minute.” I heard muffled voices, but could not hear what was being said.
I heard Dad get back on the phone, “OK. Mr. Roth, the man who answered the phone, will see to the death certificate. Another fellow whom you don’t know will be coming with me, and we will be right out with the hearse to see to Chris’s remains. You just keep cool, see to your wife and I’ll see to everything else. See you soon.” The phone clicked dead.
Hanging up the phone, I slid closer to Diana, put my arm around her and, following her example, sat quietly in our bedroom until we heard a knock at the front door.
When I answered the front door, an all familiar voice spoke. “It’s your Dad.” His voice then raised a little to talk over my shoulder, “Hi, Diana.” She must have come out of the bedroom to stand at the top of the stairs. His voice changed, so I realized he was back to talking to me, “Mind my asking what you two were doing just before I knocked?”
“We were sitting upstairs on the bed.”
“Tell you what. Why don’t you and Diana go back into the bedroom while Mr. Parker and I get Chris into the hearse. It might be better if you two don’t watch us removing her. You’ll see her again at the funeral home.”
I did as suggested. For an unknown time, we just sat quietly on the bed listening to the sounds of movement downstairs. It did not miss my attention that sweet baby Elaine was angelically sleeping through the whole thing. Finally, Dad called up, “Would you two mind coming down now.”
As we did, Dad continued, “Mr. Parker’s out in the hearse. Diana, dear, would you like me to drive you two over to the funeral home?”
“No, thanks. I can drive ... if Jack knows where it is.” Di answered.
“Sure, it’s easy. Just drive down Georgia Avenue turn left onto University and after a couple of miles look for the funeral home on the right side, right Dad?”
“That will get you there,” Dad answered trying to sound upbeat.
“Oh, what about the baby?” Diana asked. “She’s been sleeping through all this.” Diana spoke from right behind me. I never even heard her come down the stairs.
“Got you covered. Grandma should be on her way here right now to stay with her little bundle of joy. If you’re sure you feel up to driving, I will take off with Mr. Parker. My bundle of joy should be along soon.” Before leaving, I heard him give Diana a good-bye hug for support. He then grabbed my shoulder, giving me a squeeze of comfort on the way out.
I was still standing by the front door beside Diana when from a distance I heard Dad call out, “There she is, coming down the road right now. We’re going to take off so she’s got a place to park in front of your house.”
It was only minutes after I heard Dad get into the hearse and drive off that I heard another car drive up and park where the hearse had been, from the sound of it.
Soon after, we were on the road to the funeral home. Later, we were told that our little sleepyhead continued to sleep so long that her Nana, who sleeps better on the floor because of a bad back, laid a blanket on the floor and went to sleep right next to the crib. Our little one eventually woke up to the surprise of finding her Nana asleep on the floor next to her. That was the end of Nana’s rest.
Back at the funeral home we had a busy day picking out a coffin for Chris, so that there could be a viewing here in Maryland for her Maryland friends. We made arrangements to have her transported up to Ohio for a viewing for her Ohio friends and family. After the viewings, she would be put to rest in a spot her mother had purchased for her so she would have her resting right next to her mother. The whole time we were busy making plans, I was expecting things to come to a halt with an announcement that the mortician, in doing his job, has discovered a strange lack of blood and two strange punch marks on the neck.
The more the planning went on, the more anxious I got that the planning was going to be brought to a close by the presence of homicide cops. Surprisingly, everything went well, but not surprising considering my father was right there to assist and advise throughout.
During the whole time those two punch marks nagged at my conscience. Eventually, with everything going so well, I was finding myself really temped to pull the pin on everything and request an examination of Chris’s throat. Perhaps it was guilt for knowingly harboring a creature of death in my own home—a vampire who had killed a member of my family within my own home. I probably would have pulled the pin, but the other thing that nagged me was Eric’s comment, “You and I may be horror nerds enough to possibly believe in the existence of vampires, but the authorities—not likely. Next you will be talking to the men with the long-sleeved white coats.”
I was also reminded that even Eric did not believe that Isabella could be a vampire until he failed to see her in those glossy shields of my old watchband. Even then, he had to be persuaded that this was not some strange visual oddity of the shields. No, not wanting to be visited by the Sigmund Freud’s and fitted for a straightjacket, I kept my peace. But how was it that Chris was being prepared by the mortician, and he was failing to take notice of the lack of blood and the puncture marks on her throat?
The more these oddities went undiscovered, the more I felt it was up to me to do something myself. After all, Isabella had to be the one who killed
Chris. For whatever reason, could Di, the baby or I be next? What was it Eric said about her not shitting where she lives? I guess Eric can’t always be right. So who is she going to shit on next?
After all the funeral arrangements for both Maryland and Ohio had been planned and everything was in the works that could be in the works, it was time to head back home.
While riding home, my mind was racing. Why did Isabella kill Chris? Could the rest of the family be next? If not the whole family, then who? Something had to be done, and there seemed to be only one person who could do it. Jack Poisner, the blind vampire hunter; Jack Poisner, the blind vampire killer.
Diana interrupted my mind bending exercise with, “Isabella doesn’t know what happened. I guess I’ll have to tell her.”
“NO. I mean, I was just thinking that tonight you and the baby might feel better of spending the night at Eric’s and Patty’s, at least for the night. You’re not going to want to spend the night in the house...”
Diana interrupted, “You’re right, but don’t you think someone should tell Isabella what has happened? Oh no, it’s too late. By the time we get home, she’ll have already gone to work.” I’m sure she already knows.
Oh, shit! The baby and Nana. Shit, shit, shit, when that damn vampire woke up, could she have continued her rampage through the family?! Baby... No, wait. If she wanted to kill the whole family, she could have already. Nooo, she must have been after Chris only.
I answered Di’s question with, “I’ll stay in the house through the night and talk to Isabella when she arrives home from work in the morning.”
“But hon’, you two don’t exactly get along.”
“Don’t worry. You have enough on your plate right now.” I will stay home and tell Isabella that I know what she did. I continued my conversation with, “I will stay home, and when she returns from work, I will tell Isabella what has happened. I will also explain that you are staying next door for a while,” I lied.
