The Beast House (9 page)

“Oh, no,” Hardy said. “Not at all. We’re on our way up to Portland for another speaking engagement.”

“We do plan to take a look at the place,” Blake added.

“Of course. We could hardly pass through this area without stopping in for the famous Beast House tour.”

“When’ll you be doing it—tomorrow?”

“First thing in the morning,” Blake said.

Nora grinned. “Maybe we’ll see you there.”

Tyler’s stomach tightened. “We’d better get going,” she said.

“Yeah, we’d better.”

“Our loss,” Blake said, and winked at Nora. Winked.

“Ciao,” Hardy said.

Tyler winced. “Bye,” she said.

“See you later,” said Nora.

Finally, they were heading for the corner booth. “Isn’t that incredible!” Nora said in a hushed voice.

“Brian Blake?”

“Him, too. No, I mean that they’re gonna be doing Beast House.”

“They aren’t.”

“That’s what he said, but that doesn’t make it true. They just don’t want word getting out, or some damn rip-off artist will beat them to the punch with a Beast House book.”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe? I’d bet on it. And we can be there when they take the tour. It’ll be like being part of literary history. We were there when Gorman Hardy first stepped inside Beast House!”

“You were there.”

“Aw, you’ll…”

“Sorry we kept you waiting,” Tyler interrupted.

“No problem,” Abe said, rising to his feet. He had changed into gray slacks and a blue blazer. He wore no tie. His yellow shirt was open at the throat. “Did you run into some friends?”

“Not friends,” Tyler said. She slipped into the booth and sat down beside him.

Nora sat across the table. She patted Jack’s forearm through the sleeve of his flashy plaid sport jacket. “Those two at the bar,” she explained, “are Gorman Hardy and Brian Blake.”

“Brian Blake?” Jack asked. He looked at Nora with the eagerness of an enthralled child. “Sure. The middleweight contender out of Pittsburg.”

“No,” Abe said. “That’s Byron Blake.”

“Well, who’s this guy?”

Abe signaled to the barmaid. As she approached, Nora said, “Do you know that book, Horror at Black River Falls?”

“Saw the show.” He looked at Abe. “They ran it at the post last month. That haunted house flick where blood came out of the faucets and the gal ended up opening her wrists.”

“I saw it,” Abe said. He didn’t sound impressed.

The barmaid arrived. After they gave their orders, she cleared off the table and left.

Leaning forward, Jack peered at Nora. “This Blake, he’s the pretty one? I don’t remember him in the movie. Who’d he play?”

“He wasn’t in the movie,” Nora told him. She spoke cheerfully, without any hint of reproach. “It was about him. It was his house in real life, and his wife’s the one who committed suicide.”

“Bullshit,” Jack said.

“What’s bullshit?”

“It never happened. Who are they trying to kid? Okay, maybe the guy’s wife pulled the plug on herself, but ghosts? Blood spurting out of the faucets? All those dirty words showing up on the walls? An ax flying at the guy? All that stuff really happened? No way.”

“You could ask him,” Nora suggested.

“Do you believe it?”

“I don’t know. I’ve heard him talk on the subject, and he sure sounded convincing.”

“Nobody sounds more convincing than a guy with a good con.”

“The other fellow,” Abe said. “He’s actually Gorman Hardy, the author?”

“He is,” Tyler said.

“I’ve read some of his books. Including his ghost story.”

“Did you believe it?”

“I didn’t disbelieve it.”

Jack’s face contorted. “For Chistsake, Abe.”

“More things in heaven and earth, Horatio…”

“Ghosts?”

“Remember Denny Stevens?”

“Not Denny Stevens again. You were hallucinating.”

“The whole platoon was hallucinating?”

“Mass hysteria.”

Abe arched an eyebrow at Jack, then glanced from Nora to Tyler. His hands were folded on the table. He looked down at them. “Stevens was on point. This was in the jungle near the Vu Gia River, back in ’67. He stepped on an anti-personnel mine. When we got to him, his right leg was gone. He was already dead from loss of blood. The femoral artery…” He shook his head. “A couple of hours later, we came to a village. According to our intelligence, the VC had cleared out. The village was supposed to be safe, right? We stayed on our toes, just in case, but we didn’t expect trouble. We were about fifty yards from the first huts when Denny Stevens came walking out from behind one. He came walking right toward us, just as if he had both legs.”

“Which he did,” Jack added.

“He was carrying his right leg. Had a hand under the boot, the thigh propped against his shoulder.”

“God Almighty,” Nora muttered.

“We were all…slightly stunned. We just stood there, gazing at Stevens. He used his free hand to wave us off, then he kind of melted into a puddle and vanished. We took cover as if every one of us knew for a fact that he’d come back to warn us. Just about then, all hell broke loose. We got chopped up pretty good, but it would’ve been a wipe-out except for Stevens.”

“You’ll have to forgive Abe,” Jack said. “He’s usually not insane.”

“Every survivor of that firefight will tell you the same story.”

“You oughta tell that guy Hardy about it,” Jack said. “Maybe he’ll put you in a book.”

The barmaid came with a tray of drinks. There were two of each. She distributed them, and Abe paid. “I’ll be right back with more hors d’oeuvres,” she said and took away the tray.

Abe twisted his fingers around the lip of a Dos Equiis to clean it and raised the bottle. “Which is why,” he said, “I don’t disbelieve Hardy’s book. But I don’t necessarily believe it.”

“Nora thinks he’s in town to write about Beast House.”

“He denies it, of course,” Nora said. “But I’m onto him. I’m gonna be there tomorrow when he goes on the tour. Even if I have to go alone.”

“Want company?” Jack asked.

“You betcha.”

Abe looked at Tyler. “Did you have any luck finding your old friend?”

“No. Well, we went to his place, but he doesn’t live there anymore.”

“We found out he works at Beast House,” Nora said. “Hey, maybe if we play our cards right he can get us in free.”

“I don’t know,” Tyler said.

“Butterflies,” Nora explained.

Alone in his room, Brian Blake picked up the telephone and dialed the office. A man answered, but he was prepared for that. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I don’t seem to have an ice bucket.”

“I’ll send one right over to you.”

“Appreciate it,” he said and hung up.

He went to the connecting doors and opened his side. Gorman, rereading the diary, looked up at him.

“She’s on the way,” Brian said. “I hope.”

“Excellent. Enjoy yourself, but handle her carefully. We certainly don’t wish to alienate her.”

“Trust me.”

“Do I have a choice?”

Laughing, Brian shut the door. He removed a tan jacket from his suitcase, and slipped his arms into the sleeves. He was fastening the buttons when he heard a gentle knock. “Room service?” he called.

“Your ice bucket.” Janice’s voice. Brian smiled.

He opened the door.

“I filled it for you,” she said.

“Thank you.” He took the plastic container. “Come on in for a minute.”

She stepped inside, and looked around the room as if expecting to find Gorman. She had changed into blue jeans and a powder blue sweatshirt.

“How are you feeling?” Brian asked as he shut the door.

“You mean the gin? I’m okay now, but I sure conked out. I almost missed supper.”

He belted his jacket. “How about an adventure?”

She looked intrigued. “What do you mean?”

“Gorman asked me to check on something. You want to come along?”

“Where to?”

“I won’t tell.”

“Do we walk or ride?”

“Ride, then walk.”

“How long’ll it take?”

“An hour or so. It all depends.”

“On what?”

“Whether we get lucky.”

“It sounds so mysterious.”

“You game?”

She shrugged one shoulder. “I got nothing better to do. I’ll tell Dad I’m going for a walk.”

“Will he buy that?”

“Sure. I take a lot of walks. Just pull off the road and wait for me.”

Brian gave her a head start, then took his camera out to the Mercedes. He drove slowly through the courtyard, turned toward town, and stopped along the roadside. There was no traffic. He killed the headlights. Looking back, he saw Janice leave the motel office and trot down the porch stairs. She walked quickly with a bounce in her step as if eager to run. As she crossed the road, Brian flipped a switch to unlock the passenger door.

“All set,” she said, climbing in. As she swung the door shut, Brian noticed a pleasant, faint scent.

He smiled. He hadn’t noticed this aroma in the room. Had she actually taken time to put on cologne for their “adventure?”

“ Now will you say where we’re going?” she asked.

He put on his headlights and eased onto the road. “Beast House,” he said. He watched her mouth fall open.

“Not me. At night? You’re out of your tree.”

He laughed.

“You are kidding, right?”

“Right. Half kidding.”

“Only half?”

“We’ll stay outside the fence. What I want to do is go around behind the place and scout around.”

“What for?”

“The hole.”

“The beast hole? For Godsake, what for?”

“To see if it’s there.”

“Oh, man, I’m not sure about this.”

“Do you want me to take you back?”

She sighed. “You weren’t kidding about an adventure, were you?”

“Should be fun, huh?”

“Jesus.”

“Chances are, we won’t find the thing anyway. If it exists at all, it’s probably well hidden. It may have even collapsed by now. But if we do find it, you know what that means?”

“I guess it means the diary’s not a fake.”

Rounding a bend, they left the dark stretch of road behind. The main street of town was lighted with lampposts.

“It might also mean,” Brian said, “that we would have access to the house.”

“Now I know you’re crazy.”

He slid his gaze down her slim body. “You might be just about the right size…”

“No way, José.”

Brian laughed. “Actually, I only want to locate the hole and get some shots of it. The tunnel to the house is probably blocked by now, anyway. Unless the beast still uses it.”

“You just had to say that, didn’t you? You’re having a great old time.”

“Wonderful.”

She laughed softly as she stared out the windshield. Then she looked at him. “I guess you must’ve read the diary, huh? What did you think?”

“That Thorn gal either had a very active fantasy life, or she ran into something a bit odd in her cellar.”

“A bit odd?”

“More than a bit.”

“I’ll say.”

“It’s too bad she didn’t describe the thing in more detail.”

“As far as I’m concerned, she described more than enough.” Janice pressed her knees together. “Look, there’s the Kutch house.” She nodded to the right.

Brian glanced at the brick house set back a distance from the road.

“See anything funny about it?”

“No.”

“No windows. That’s where Maggie lives. The one who owns Beast House? They say she built it without windows to keep the creature out.”

“Seems excessive,” Brian said. Turning his head, he watched Beast House as he drove slowly by. Its windows caught the moonlight. Its dull gray walls were smudged with shadows. “Must be pleasant in there at night.”

“It’s bad enough in daylight. Are you sure that wouldn’t be a better time to go looking for this hole?”

“We don’t want to attract attention.”

“The thing’s nocturnal, you know.”

“Worried?”

“I just think you’d have a better chance finding the hole in daylight.”

“Well, it’s worth a try.”

“How come Mr. Hardy didn’t come along?”

“He’s chicken.”

“Smart man.”

“I’ll protect you,” Brian said, and patted her knee.

“Gee, thanks.”

He steered around a bend, and the distant lights of Malcasa’s main street vanished from the rearview mirror. The road curved upward through wooded hills. He drove farther than he wanted, looking for a shoulder wide enough to accommodate the Mercedes. When he found one, he turned out and killed the headlights.

“Oh, man,” Janice muttered.

“What?”

“It’s dark.”

“All the better for sneaking around, my dear.” He slung the camera strap around his neck and climbed out. While Janice scooted across the seat, he opened the back door. He lifted a blanket and flashlight off the floor.

“What’s the blanket for?” Janice whispered.

“In case we want to make out.”

She looked at him. She said nothing.

They started across the road, Janice staying close to his side. “Actually,” he said, “it’s in case we do find the hole. I’ll want to get some shots of it, and we can use the blanket to shield the flashes.”

“Clever.”

“Disappointed?”

“Oh, sure.”

They walked along the edge of the road, heading down the slope toward town. Janice’s cowboy boots sounded loud on the pavement. When the wind rushed through the trees, it seemed to Brian like the noise of an approaching car. He often looked over his shoulder.

“Nervous?” Janice asked.

“I don’t want to get run over.”

“Fat chance of that.”

“You get careful,” he said, “after you’ve had a close one.”

“Did you…?” she suddenly turned her face to him. “My God, that’s right. I forgot about that. Must’ve been pretty hairy.”

“You see your own car speeding at you without anyone at the wheel—yeah, I’d say it’s pretty hairy.”

“Awful,” she said. “God, you’ve been through a lot. I don’t know how you stood it.”

He shook his head slowly. “I came very close…to taking Martha’s way out. When I found her in the tub, and all that blood…”

Janice patted his forearm, gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Well,” he said, “it was a long time ago.”