3 A Basis for Murder (12 page)

Remembering Jamie's dire warnings, I texted him to let him know where I was headed and that Douglas was there too. I drove off and somehow managed to find my way back to Gerald's, although I only narrowly missed taking a wrong turn.

The front door was open, but I knocked. "Hello? Gerald?"

Gerald appeared, drinking a coffee. "Hi Misty, let's have a cup of tea and then get started. Or would you prefer coffee?"

"What sort of coffee do you have?" I despise instant coffee, so asking this question usually gives me the heads up as to whether someone has a coffee machine, without offending them.

"Nescafe, I think." Gerald furrowed his brow.

"Actually, a nice cup of tea would be great, black, no sugar, please."

Gerald disappeared in the direction of the kitchen and reappeared almost instantly with a cup of tea.

"Where's Douglas?"

Gerald laughed. "You'll be very pleased with me. I sent him down to the barn and told him I'd left the files, my great grandfather's letters, down there on a bench where I was sitting in the sun to eat lunch. That will give you time to look through them first."

"Thanks so much, Gerald." I beamed at him. Who would have thought he'd be so sneaky?

I opened the folder and looked at the first letter. It was blurry. "Oh, where are my glasses?" I wondered aloud. As soon as I said that, I realized I was wearing my glasses. "Not again," I said. I looked over at Gerald, and he looked malevolent. "Have you drugged me?" I asked.

Gerald's expression was one of puzzlement. "Of course not. What do you mean?"

"I can't see and I'm wearing my glasses."

Gerald laughed. "You're drinking hot tea. No doubt it fogged up your glasses."

"Oh." I was horribly embarrassed and felt like a complete idiot. "You must think I'm quite mad, Gerald. I'm really embarrassed. I'm so sorry for thinking you'd drugged me."

"Why would I drug you?"

I shrugged, mortified by what I'd said.

Gerald stood up. "Yes, why would I drug you when I have this?" He pulled out a gun from behind his back and waved it at me. It was a small hand gun, not a rifle like farmers have. My knowledge of guns is zero.

My first thought was,
Here we go again
. That's not to say I wasn't scared. Far from it; I was terrified. This was the third or forth time that my life had been threatened by someone - I’d lost count. The researcher in me wondered why Gerald saw me as a threat; what was the connection between Gerald and the
malingee
? Or was there a different reason he was pointing a gun at me?

He waved the gun towards a door at the back of the kitchen, indicating that I should walk over there. I hoped that the gun wouldn't accidentally go off. I walked over the door, terrified that he would shoot me in the back. I walked through the door, and there were steps immediately ahead of me.

A basement. We really don't have them in Australia, but this was the second time I'd encountered one with people trying to kill me. I suppose if people engage in criminal activities, then they do need a basement or some sort of hideaway. I was forcing myself to think logically as a firewall against my fear, but fear now rose to take the upper hand.

I was trembling and terrified. I braced myself as I took the first step, fearing that Gerald would push me down the stairs.

The door slammed hard behind me as I reached the third step. I breathed a sigh of relief. Gerald hadn't shot me or pushed me down the stairs, so clearly intended to keep me alive at least for the time being. I stopped and hoped like hell that something sinister wasn't waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs.

I crept down, holding my breath. I could hear something moving down there, larger than a rat.

There was a small, rectangular window ahead of me to the left, high up and barred. Of all things it had flimsy lace curtains over it. It was throwing some light into the room, but I had to squint to see my surroundings.

I reached the bottom of the stairs, and turned hard to the right. To my left was nothing but a cold, stone wall. I tentatively rounded the corner, and then stood stock still when I saw Douglas ahead of me.

"Douglas!"

"Misty!"

We stared at each other. Douglas was sitting with his back to a pole, his hands behind him, and thick, rough rope tied around his feet.

* * *

The dog may be wonderful prose, but only the cat is poetry.

(French proverb)

Chapter Eighteen
.

For the second time in the space of a few minutes, I thought,
Here we go again
.

"Misty, quick, untie me."

I laughed harshly. "Been there, done that, Douglas."

"What do you mean?"

I snorted rudely. "How could you forget? Doesn't this scenario seem familiar to you? Back in England, when you and Cassandra tried to kill me? How stupid do I look? It worked last time, but it won't work this time!"

Again Douglas asked, "What do you mean?"

I was getting angry, and for the moment, anger overcame my fear. "Don't pretend you don't remember! Cassandra had you tied up and said she'd kill you if I didn't tell her where that document she wanted was. I told her, and then she untied you and the two of you both laughed at me, and then you were both going to kill me." I then sneezed violently; I don't think Gerald kept this place dusted.

"Misty, I did
not
try to kill you. We've been through this before. I'm a double agent -"

I cut him off. "Double agent indeed! Gerald will come down the steps and say that he'll kill you if I don't tell him something or other."

And right on cue, a light came on in the room. The switch must have been outside the basement. I looked around for a weapon, but there was nothing. This was no ordinary basement used for storage; it was some sort of ritual room. Strange symbols were painted on every wall, and there was a large, stone altar which looked like it was used for blood sacrifice. I was too scared to look too closely as it seemed to be covered in old blood stains. Behind that, and against the wall, was another altar covered with candles and ritual items, including what very much looked like a ritual dagger made of stone.

Gerald came down the stairs waving the gun in front of him. "Okay, I've hidden both your cars in the barn just to be on the safe side. Go over there, near your boyfriend."

"He's not my boyfriend," I spat.

"Whatever. Now, I need you to me tell me why you two are snooping around asking questions. Who sent you?"

I spoke first. "I'm a journalist; call the magazine and ask them. I told you the name,
Horrors and Haunts
. I'm here to do a story on ghosts in Hillgrove. Call them and ask them."

Gerald shook his head. "Tell me the truth or he gets it." He pointed the gun at Douglas.

I laughed, which came out as a false, high-pitched laugh due to my fear. "Shoot him then; I don't care. I don't like him. I don't care what you do with him."

"Misty!" Douglas's tone was urgent.

I turned to him. "How stupid do you think I am, Douglas? Once bitten, twice shy! I know the two of you are in it together. You even spoke me to me on the phone and told me to come."

"He was pointing a gun at me," Douglas said.

I shook my head.

Gerald walked over to Douglas and held the gun against his head. "Tell me what you're really doing, Misty, or I'll shoot him. I'm not fooling around."

"I really don't care. Shoot him then; see if I care."

"I'm not bluffing."

I shrugged. "Do what you have to do. It won't work this time."

I wondered why small beads of sweat were forming on Douglas's forehead. Either he was a very good actor, or he was wondering how far Gerald would carry this charade.

"I won't shoot him; I'll sacrifice you both to the
malingee
." Gerald broke off and nodded at me. "I'm sure he'll appreciate two."

Gerald walked toward me and I backed behind the big stone altar. I tried to buy time. "Have you been sacrificing to the
malingee
?" I asked.

"Not in worship if that's what you mean. My family bound this
malingee
generations ago. We feed it with blood sacrifice."

I kept trying to stall. "So your family has lived in this town for what, a hundred years or so?"

Gerald nodded, but kept advancing at me slowly. I in turn kept backing away from him around the stone altar. "The
malingee
will kill anyone who gets in our way. My family's been involved in insider trading and stock manipulation since 1898. If anyone gets too close to what we're doing, we call on the
malingee
to kill them."

"See, I told you I wasn't involved," Douglas said.

I shot him a withering look.

"Anyway, I have to summon the
malingee
now." Gerald looked at my puzzled face. "Did you think I actually make the sacrifices myself? Do you think I'm insane? I just get people here for the
malingee
; he kills them. That British tourist was asking too many questions, so I got the
malingee
to kill him, and then I threw his body over the cliff."

I was at once somewhat relieved that Gerald himself had not done the killing. My situation was still grim, but had improved slightly and for that I was grateful. I had a better chance with the creature than with Gerald's gun.

Gerald moved to the altar against the wall, still pointing the gun at me. He started a strange chanting which soon had the whole room vibrating, albeit imperceptibly. I looked at the ceiling and wondered again at the strange symbols there, and on the floor as well as the walls. I figured that these were wards to keep the creature contained within this room, once it was summoned.

I could now feel the presence of the
malingee
looming. There was a noise like stone grating against stone, the terrifying sound of its stone knees advancing.

"Excuse me, won't you; I don't want to be here when it comes."

Gerald backed up the stairs, holding the gun in front of him. The door slammed. I heard the lock click, and then the light went out.

I could still see, but the room was dim.

"Misty, untie me, fast."

"There's no time, Douglas."

"Misty..."

"Quiet, Douglas," I snapped. "I have to concentrate, but you will have to be quiet. Do you understand?"

Douglas nodded.

I sat on the floor next to the stone altar with my back against the cold, stone wall. I could feel the ground rumbling as the thing approached, but I could not let that rush me. I took a deep breath, and calmed my breathing.

Keep calm, keep calm
, I kept saying to myself as a mantra.

Suddenly, in front of me, the
malingee
appeared. I shot a glance at Douglas, but it appeared that he couldn't see it.

The
malingee
was at once in front of me, and clutched at my throat. As its fingers reached my neck, I turned my head to avoid its foul breath. What to do now? I not only had to make sure that it didn't harm me; I had to make sure that I broke Gerald's hold on it. But how?

What did I know about it? Douglas wanted the creature's name so the Black Lodge could control it. Therefore Gerald was controlling it by its name. "What is your name?" I asked it. "Tell me, and I’ll release you."

For a moment, nothing happened, and the
malingee
loomed over me. I fought back rising panic. I held my breath, until it whispered, "Djarraba."

I wasted no time. "Djarraba, I command you to break free of the bonds that Gerald Wakefield's family has put on you and I command you never to be bound again by anyone." I hoped like crazy that would work. I was careful to whisper his name so Douglas could not hear.

The
malingee
reeled back, and then lurched from side to side, trying to gain its balance. Before my eyes, it started changing shape. The grotesque, distorted face changed and became an ageless face of intense and ancient power. It changed from an ugly, misshapen form into a stone-like form pulsating with energy.

The
malingee
walked over to me, its stone knees making an ominous sound. It said, "Thank you, Misty Sales," and then vanished.

I felt nauseous for a moment but then it passed. I shook my head in an attempt to clear it.

"Misty, what happened?" Douglas's tone was urgent.

I walked over to him and looked at him. Should I untie him? What if he was working with Gerald?

"What happened?" he asked again.

I shrugged. "I can't explain it," I said, meeting his gaze, "but the creature won't be back."