Haunted (31 page)

Dining Room: Thayer Cox, 26, Officer, Red Cay Police;Tucker Cox, 26, Lawyer, Red Cay; Daisy Johnson, 19.

Found on the second floor:

Front Bedroom, East Wing: Jared Anderson, 33, Fisherman, Pismo Beach; Heather Berlin, 21.

Third Bedroom, East Wing: Samuel Willard, 54, Selectman, Red Cay; Claudia O'Toole, 26.

Fourth Bedroom, East Wing: Reverend James Worthy, 41, of Red Cay; Timothy Waters, 19, Merchant Marine; Sarah Seville, 18.

Ballroom: Aaron Swenson, 17, of Red Cay; Lawson Cox, 67, State Senator, Red Cay; Unknown Male Transient, 40-45; Emily Pelinski, 31.

Terrace: Noah Fester, 47, Captain, Sailing Queen, out of Portland, Oregon.

Found on the third floor in the front dormer bedroom was Mariette Cantori, 17.

No suspects are yet in custody, but Chief Lee expects developments soon. The chief again refused to comment on the method or methods used by the murderer.

Three drawings accompanied the article, depicting the layout of each floor and the locations of the bodies. David studied them, not surprised to see that the body of the young woman murdered on the third floor had been found in the room overlooking the terrace. David made a note to try to find out more about Mariette Cantori who, at seventeen, had been the youngest victim.

The second floor schematic showed that no bodies were found in the west wing, where he and Amber slept, and that pleased him and further convinced him that these larger rooms had been the private quarters of Lizzie and Christabel. He was surprised to see, however, that the diagram of the first floor revealed that the drawing room, in which two bodies had been found, was the office in which he now sat. At least it doesn't  feel haunted, he thought, glancing around According to the drawing, the man and the woman would have been lying right about where he was sitting now.

He perused the names, amused at the number of highly placed citizens, Coxes in particular, that had met their fate in the bawdy house. The town fathers must have worked very hard to bury the well-connected names.

A third paper, dated September 9, 1915, contained an interesting article concerning people who had been missing since the night of the massacre. The article first stated that the police chief considered the disappearances of Elizabeth and Christabel Baudey highly significant, but offered no explanation--undoubtedly the tight-lipped Lee hadn't given one. It then listed the other missing persons: Flossie Sullivan, Colette Seville, and Lucy McGuire, all residents of the house, were unaccounted for, as well as Thomas Wright and Adam Fletcher, both of the Sailing Queen, Peter Castle, a Morro Bay fisherman, Luke Peters, a local carpenter, and Luis Sandoval, who owned the Double Bar Ranch near Red Cay.

Near the end of the piece, David saw the first mention of the cellar:

...One avenue Chief Lee is investigating is the possibility that a secret chamber exists below the house, one that is accessible only by an unknown passage. An anonymous source told Chief Lee that it was Miss Baudey's practice to blindfold any men who wished the services available in the chamber before she escorted them to this nefarious den.

Chief Lee is attempting to locate the chamber as the uncharacteristically warm weather has produced unmistakable odors associated with unburied corpses. Word has been sent to the great escape artist, Harry Houdini, who is currently touring Europe, that the Red Cay Police Department would appreciate any advice he can dispense.

David had known that Houdini had been contacted, but nothing ever came of it. Chief Lee never found his murderer or murderers, either.

Following that article was a colorful feature playing up the lurid aspects of the history of Byron's Finger, and David lingered over a section of it:

Baudey House is located a mile from town on a small peninsula known as Byron's Finger. Except for the Widow's Peak Lighthouse, it is the sole structure upon this land, which the Chumash Indians have always considered cursed.

...Perhaps the Chumash were correct... Many sailors have lost their lives on the treacherous rocks of the headland, even after Byron Baudey built the lighthouse.

...The tip of the peninsula acquired the name "Widow's Peak" in the eighteenth century. Widows of seamen gathered on the anniversaries of their husbands' deaths to throw flowers into the unforgiving waters below in memoriam. More than one heartbroken woman threw herself onto the sharp rocks below.

Even in modern times, the land seems cursed, just as the Chumash have said. The mansion and the lighthouse have continually been plagued by unexplained deaths and tragedies. Byron Baudey, his wife, daughter, and grandchild, all died in dire ways, as have those who came after them.

In the last two years there have been several unsolved murders and disappearances. All involved unidentified transient merchant marines and sailors, with the sole exception of Captain Ezra Wilder, whose hideously decapitated body was found within the lighthouse early in 1914.

Wilder, whose spice trade is now operated by his son Ajax was coincidentally the man who rescued Elizabeth Baudey and her daughter from her imprisonment on a Caribbean Island by a voodoo priest. It is believed that Wilder and the elder Miss Baudey were intending to marry at the time of his death.

Now, that’s something new. Eagerly, David read on:

Some of our citizens suspect that the beautiful young Christabel, who was only sixteen at the time of her disappearance, is responsible for the captain's death, as well as the deaths of the others. It is said that her voodoo priest father taught her everything he knew and that she was an extremely powerful priestess.

A local citizen who wishes to retain anonymity told this reporter that Christabel Baudey used magic to obtain any man she desired and that she used other perverse magic upon them once she had them in her thrall. He also said that after Elizabeth Baudey's unfortunate accident in November of 1914, in which she broke both her legs, Christabel altered the secret chamber from merely a "fanciful den of pleasure" into a "torture chamber where no man was safe."

Laying the paper aside, David put his hands behind his head and leaned back, staring at the ceiling. It was definitely time to contact Craig Swenson, the current chief of police
, and see if he could learn anything more about the murders. He hoped that Swenson could be talked into letting him take a look at any photographs that might be on file, as well as Chief Lee's original reports.

His thoughts drifted back to Melanie and, for a long time, he stared at the phone. Twice, he nearly picked it up. Nearly.

Body House: 3:31 P.M.

"See you later!" Amber called as Kelly Cox waved from her yellow VW Bug and pulled away. It had been a great afternoon, with the two of them trying on every dress that remotely fit before they were through. Amber was pleased that her friend had taken the hint about not showing off their costumes for her dad, mostly because she didn't really want him to know which one she had chosen. She wasn't sure he'd let her wear the black dress to the dance: it was rather revealing and very sexy, and what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

She walked down the steps and took a deep breath of ocean air. The weather was perfect; the sky was blue with a sprinkling of puffy clouds, and the lawn Eric Swenson had planted a few weeks ago had come up greener than green amid the flower beds full of pink and white impatiens and yellow marigolds.

Deciding to stroll out to the lighthouse and back, she began walking toward Widow's Peak. She had plenty of time: her father would probably stay holed up in his office for a couple more hours, then after that they were going out to eat Minnie had left some kind of god-awful casserole in the refrigerator yesterday, to "tide them over" while she took the day off. Amber had taken one look at it, decided something with sliced cocktail weenies, bell peppers, and macaroni swimming in pink-colored sauce wasn't something she'd be eating any time soon, and scraped it into the trash, with her father's crinkle-nosed blessing.

She sighed. Minnie would be back tomorrow and that made her wish she could bring herself to call Melanie, but she just couldn't: the more she thought about it, the more she felt that telling Mel about the underwear rumor would be a whiny, babyish thing to do. She had to get rid of the old busybody herself. But how? Maybe Kelly could help her cook up a plan.

As she neared the lighthouse, she saw that its old wooden door was ajar. Shaking her head, she approached the tower, intending to close the entry again. She wondered how it came to be open because her dad had asked Eric to put a new hasp and padlock on the door to make sure no one entered the dangerous structure.

The hairs rose on the back of her neck as she got near enough to see that the hasp had been torn from the door. It hung crookedly from its fastenings in the stone wall, the padlock still secured. Who did this? She thought it had to be the work of transients or kids.

Nervously, she peered inside, wondering if she should call out before she shoved the door shut. If there were still kids in there, she should, but what if it was some old bum? She sure didn't want to attract his attention. Staring at the geometric spiral of sun and shadow within, she decided it would be best to do nothing except go back to the house and tell her father.

The black metal stairs clanked slightly as a cool easterly breeze washed in through the windows and out the entryway and, simultaneously, something scuttled behind the half-open door. Staring at the floor, she told herself it was nothing but a rat, though she instinctively stepped backward, fighting down the mindless urge to turn and run.

Suddenly she noticed a black boot tip sticking out from behind the threshold Stunned into immobility, she knew it hadn't been there a second before--she would have seen it. She heard a scraping noise and a second boot appeared. Frozen, she let her gaze travel upward, seeing dark blue trousers, a long-fingered hand, then--

He stepped out from behind the entryway and in one unending second, she saw the navy jacket with its gold piping, saw the blood, shiny and fresh, that stained the uniform blouse and jacket lapels. It had spattered the little ribbons and medals affixed to the jacket. Incredulously, she saw the ragged bloody flesh and a flash of bone at the neck as the headless thing stepped closer, its pale, well-manicured hand rising, as if it wanted to touch her.

Paralysis broke and she stumbled backward, then turned and ran as fast as she could, heading for the house. As she neared the front steps, heart walloping against her ribcage and sides aching, she saw the beige automobile pulling to a stop just ahead of her. Theo Pelinore's stupid car.

She stopped running and crossed her arms against her stomach trying to catch her breath as Pelinore stepped out of the Volvo and quickly walked toward her. Amber glanced back at the lighthouse and saw nothing. The monster hadn't followed her.

"Amber, dear," Theo gushed, trying unsuccessfully to put her arm around Amber's waist. "What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost!"

She's smarter than she looks. Amber took in Pelinore's form-fitting royal blue dress and the amethyst and quartz crystal amulet that hung between her prominent breasts.

"Nothing's wrong," she said, making a major effort not to sound too out of breath. "I was jogging." She tried to smile innocently. "It's pretty out there by the lighthouse. You'd like it." The thought of the headless thing grabbing Pelinore's pair of pride-and-joy's nibbled away at Amber's lingering fear.

"What a nice thought," the woman said with a patronizing smile. "I came by to talk to David and there's no reason we can't talk and walk at the same time. Thank you, dear, for the lovely idea."

Anger, black and unbidden, rose in Amber. Barracuda! She glanced at her Swatch. "He's working right now."

Pelinore put one foot on the bottom step. "I know he'll want to see me."

"He doesn't see anyone while he's working. He doesn't even answer his phone unless it's New York." She paused, considering. "Or unless it's Melanie."

One of Pelinore's elegantly plucked eyebrows shot up like an exclamation point. "Melanie?" she asked sweetly.

"His fiancée."

"Dear, he doesn't see her anymore. Didn't you know that?" she asked in a voice that dripped with condescension.

"I think they might get back together."

"And I think I might know a little more about that than you, dear." Pelinore's smile barely masked controlled anger. "Now, would you please tell him I'm here?"

You goddamned bitch! "He works until six o'clock. Then he returns phone calls. He probably won't come out of his office before six-thirty or seven. Then we're going out to dinner," Amber retorted smugly.

"Dear, he'll want to see me. Please tell him I'm here."

Pelinore's eyebrow came up again, this time in a calculating way. "I have something for him."

"You can either wait or leave it with me."

The eyebrow stayed in arched mode. "Very well." Pelinore smiled like Cruella de Ville and pulled a small white paper bag out of her purse. "Would you give this to him, dear?"