Haunted (38 page)

"What about the rest?"

"Her heart was in her mouth and her fingers were found in her vagina and rectum. Her eyes had been removed and set into her breasts. I can make a Xerox of the reports for you if you want. I, ah, also have the photographs on file, if you want to see them."

Despite himself, David felt ill. "Thanks." He didn't want to look at the photos, but knew he should, assuming they were reminiscent of the 1915 killings.

"Excuse me a moment." Shayrock rose and moved to a pair of tall oak file cabinets. He unlocked one and began rifling through it. "Aha." He took a thick manila folder out and handed it to David. "Take a look at this, decide what you want copies of, and I'll be right back. There's something else you might like to see, but it's upstairs. In my house," he added. "I'll be back in five minutes."

"Thanks."

The doctor left, and David rather reluctantly opened the folder. The simple clinical descriptions of the atrocities were bad enough, but the photos were the stuff of nightmares. David flipped through them quickly, just so he could say he'd seen them, then returned to studying the descriptions which, he decided, were all he really needed.

Swags of intestines across doors and windows, genitals severed and switched with other organs, it was all there, all sick, and beyond the comprehension of a normal human. The sudden sound of the door opening practically sent him through the roof.

"Sorry, it took me a moment to find this." Shayrock placed a thick, antique photo album on the blotter. "Do you have any more questions about the 1968 murders?"

"Yes. Do you have any personal opinions on those killings?"

Shayrock sat down and rubbed his chin. "I suppose I do. First, the commune members were indulging in some sort of black magic."

"I didn't know that."

"It was kept out of the papers. They'd chalked circles and other symbols on the floor, we found a few dead chickens, some goats' horns, some crystals, stuff like that. The police thought that one of their own members did in the others, but they never found anyone. The commune had probably been indulging in their magic shortly before they were killed. And the most interesting aspect of all this is that whoever murdered them was not consistent in his methods. Some bodies were mutilated with surgical precision, others were hacked and torn. I had the feeling, even then, that the killer got frustrated for some reason."

"Fascinating," David said. "I really appreciate the information."

"You're welcome," Shayrock said, consulting his watch. "My next patient will be here in a few minutes and I want to show you this first." He opened the leather-bound photo album and turned it toward David. Black and white photos, slightly browned with age, covered the black paper pages and captions had carefully been penned in with white ink. "These photos date from about 1910 until 1920. There's my grandfather, Louis, with Robert Lee, the chief of police, in 1912."

Keith Shayrock was a chip off the old block. Same hair and build, same jawline. Robert Lee was a handsome man, also quite tall, with rather Nordic features. He looked slightly familiar. "Are the Lees and the Swensons related?"

Shayrock laughed. "Everybody's related around here, even if they don't acknowledge it. Robert Lee's only daughter, Sarah, married Charles Swenson in 1920." Eyes twinkling, he added, "Of course, many of our citizens have parents or grandparents who were conceived in Body House, but they won't admit that, either."

"Who's this? I can't make out the caption." Hiding his excitement, David pointed at a photo of Louis Shayrock with a portly, balding man with white whiskers.

"Let's see. I believe that's Harrison Cox. He was a public official. The Coxes have always been big in politics. As the story goes, he ran off with his secretary." Shayrock studied David. "You appear excited."

There was no real harm in talking about the dolls, he decided, and he wanted to give the doctor something in return for his information. "I've found some pieces from Lizzie Baudey's doll collection." He pointed at the photo of the mayor. "Including one of Harrison Cox."

Shayrock beamed with delight "She made dolls of her customers, right?"

"Right."

The doctor chuckled, shaking his head. "If you want, I can come by with this album and we can try to identify some of the others. I've got to warn you, though, there are some old families here, particularly some of the Coxes, who think butter won't melt in their mouths. You can do some serious boat-rocking if you care to."

Judging by the eager expression on his face, Shayrock thought this was a grand idea, and David guessed that the Shayrocks and the Coxes still had problems. "That might be interesting," David said finally. "Though, I'd prefer to keep the collection a secret until it's all put together."

"Naturally. I've got an appointment now," the doctor said, checking his watch. "But I can come by a bit after five today, if you're not busy."

"Five is fine." David stood, shook Shayrock's hand. "See you later."

Body House: 12:51 P.M.

Amber had spent the morning buying groceries, straightening the kitchen, and finishing up waxing the floors because she wanted to make absolutely sure that Dad wouldn't get frustrated and ask Minnie Willard to come back. If, as he'd said, they didn't stay here much longer, she could handle most of the housekeeping: the sacrifice would be worth it.

As she was rinsing out the mop for the final time, the phone rang, and she raced to catch it before the machine did. "Hello?" she asked breathlessly.

"Hi! It's me."

She felt a little thrill at the sound of Rick Feldspar's voice. "Hi, Rick. What's up?"

"Want to go to the movies tonight?" He paused. "Just you and me? You know, a real date?"

Yes, yes, yes, oh yes! "Um, that would be fun," she said, trying to sound cool. "I mean, I think I'm free." Yes, yes, yes!

"Great! Do you need to check with your dad or anything?"

"I'll check, but he won't mind."

"How about I pick you up at five and we'll go get pizza first. The show's at seven-thirty."

"What's playing?"

"The Rialto in Pismo Beach is this great old revival theater. They've got a double feature: It Happened One Night and Ruggles of Red Gap." He hesitated. "Of course, if you'd rather see the new Schwarzenegger movie, we can do that."

Rick was perfect: he even liked the classics better than action movies. "Let's do the Rialto," she said warmly. "See you tonight!"

Hanging up, she went to her dad's office door and knocked.

"It's open," he called, and she let herself in.

He had dragged all the crates that had contained clothes into the center of the room and now sat on a stool in the middle of them. "You haven't seen the ugly male doll in black, have you, kiddo?" he asked, looking up quickly.

"No. Is it missing?"

"Yeah." He scratched his head. "I can't figure it out Yesterday, it was right here with the broken one."

"When did you see it last?"

"Let me think. It was on the desk when Eric came running in yelling, 'He wants his head.' "

Amber snickered at her dad's bad imitation. "I wish I'd been here."

He smiled. "Me too. Anyway, Eric got the false bottom open and we got out the dolls and then the head and..."

"And?"

"And we went to the lighthouse." His mouth set into a grim line. "And when we came back, Minnie was in here, snooping around."

"She took it, Dad," Amber stated without hesitation.

"She didn't have anything in her hands." He paused. "It's hard to believe she'd do something like that. Just because she's a gossip, it doesn't mean she's a thief."

"Come on, Daddy, grow up! She stuck it down her girdle or something. She's so fat, you'd never see it."

"I just can't believe it ... But I've spent a whole hour looking for it and it's just plain gone."

"She's got it."

"I suppose," he said finally.

"Call Chief Swenson. Have her arrested."

"Gee, Amber, you're really gunning for her. Why is that?"

No way was she going to tell him about the rat lady's underwear rumor now. "She's a thief," she said simply, as she walked behind her Dad's chair and put her arms around his neck. "And she messed with my father." She kissed him on the cheek, then perched on the edge of the desk.

"I'll tell Craig it's missing, in case it shows up somewhere outside the house--“

"Like at Minnie's."

He gave her a look. "But I'm not going to accuse her of anything, at least not right now." He glanced over at his computer. "I don't need the hassle at this point in the book and, frankly, I'm not entirely sure she did take it."

"Why not? You don't think Eric did, do you?"

"Not in a million years. This house has a history of things appearing and disappearing. It might be here."

She couldn't argue with that. The cake of soap that belonged in the shower in the red bathroom upstairs had vanished three times now. Each time, it had turned up balanced on the bannister leading downstairs. It was an annoying and common phenomenon and it didn't mean much. "Okay, but I still think the rat lady's behind it." She grinned. "For the record."

"For the record." He glanced at the Felix the Cat clock wagging its tail against the wall. "No cheerleading practice today?"

"Oh, no, I forgot about practice!" She could still get there, almost on time, if she hurried.

"Forgot? You?" he teased. "That's not like you."

She smiled smugly. "I cleaned the house."

Her father raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Thanks, but why?"

"To celebrate the firing of Rat Woman. Dad, you heard the phone ring a few minutes ago?"

"Yes?"

"Can I go out with Rick Feldspar tonight?" Quickly, she told him their plans.

"Just be home by midnight," he said.

"You'll be here alone," she said doubtfully.

"I'm a big boy now, dear heart. I can take care of myself." He paused, then added, "Keith Shayrock's bringing an old photo album over." He told her about identifying the white-whiskered doll. "We're going to see if we can finger any more customers." He made a face at the nearest crate. "That is if I can figure out how to get these open and get at the dolls."

"Let me try." Without looking, she reached into the crate and started feeling around. An instant later, the bottom slid away and she gently lifted out half a dozen dolls, all wrapped in cloth like little mummies, and handed them to her dad. "I wish I could hang around and check them out with you," she said, opening the next crate.

"So cancel your date ... "

Amber felt her jaw drop, but her dad only laughed.

"I'm joking, kiddo. You can see them later tonight or tomorrow." He stood, twisting his back to work out the stiffness. "Just show me how you do that magic on the catch, then you can go to practice."

She quickly opened another and handed him five more dolls. "It's easier if I just open them all for you, Dad. You're just not good at things like this."

Within five minutes, all the crates were open and twenty-eight more dolls lay on his desk. Her dad smiled. "What would I do without you?"

"You'd be helpless." She fixed him with her gaze. "Totally helpless. Is it okay if I take the truck?"

"Go ahead. You've earned it."

Body House: 4:20 P.M.

Unwrapped, the dolls were exquisite works of art, and now that they were safely displayed behind the glass doors of one of the built-in wall cabinets in the parlor, David stood back, arms crossed, and happily studied his finds. He hadn't taken the time to undress any to see if they were Lizzie's or Christabel's work, though he suspected the latter because of the disturbing bulges he felt while handling the males. There were oddities on some of the dolls too-a-limbs were missing on some, tiny ropes and chains decorated others.

On one scarlet-dressed female, a hand was missing and David noticed with some uneasiness that the stump was covered with a reddish substance similar to that on the doll of the headless Captain Wilder. On another doll, a small red hole defaced the center of the forehead. Several others had red lines drawn across their necks that were chillingly reminiscent of slashes on throats. Two had their hands and feet tied with twine.

He'd intended to begin removing the clothing to examine and catalog the dolls, but that was before he'd come across a large, age-yellowed envelope tied to the voluminous skirt of one doll.

He'd forced himself to ignore the envelope until the dolls were in the case since Dr. Shayrock was coming by, but it had been a real test of control. Now, he returned to his office and settled himself in his desk chair, opened the envelope, and withdrew a sheaf of brittle papers.

The handwriting was elegant, but spidery, revealing the advanced age of the writer. He glanced at Felix the Clock and hoped Shayrock would be late, then adjusted his desk lamp and began to read: