Skellyman

by Rie Sheridan Rose

  Animals had quickly lost their thrill. He’d graduated to human pain…but was always careful not to get caught. The thing in the bathtub upstairs might be his crowning glory to date—and he wanted to share it with Drew…

  He had almost given up entirely on the operation when he heard a key in the back door. He snapped to attention, a grin of anticipation on his scarred face.

  “Mom?” called Drew’s voice. “Mom! You sick, or what? I told you I had things to do today. Couldn’t wait around for you. I left the ‘Be Back Soon’ sign on the desk to buy you some time, but…”

  The skellyman glided to Drew’s bedroom door, razor held ready. He heard the younger man cross to the stairs and call up them. “Geez, Mom. What the fuck? You promised me to be on time. Are you asleep, or what?”

  Drew was still grumbling to himself as he threw open his bedroom door. He stepped inside to discard his backpack, and his eyes widened as he looked around the room.

  “Who’s been in here?” he whispered, then called desperately, “Mom, have you—?”

  He started to turn, and caught sight of the skellyman out of the corner of his eye. “What the—?”

  The skellyman grinned at him and caught his wrist in a viselike grip.

  “Hello, Drew. Welcome home. We’re going to play a game now.”

  Drew pissed himself at the sight of the bloody razor, the sharp tang of urine filling the air.

  The skellyman clucked his teeth.

  “What a mess. Who’ll clean that up?”

  One more anomaly in the case…but he didn’t really care at this point. He was beginning to tire of the whole affair. All he wanted to do now was get this over with and get home to bed.

  He frog-marched the whimpering Drew into his mother’s suite. For someone as slight as he was, the young man was incredibly hard to maneuver. A nudge in the back with the razor, however, hurried him along a mite faster.

  “I have a little surprise for you, Drew,” he murmured in the young man’s ear. “You remember how your mother never let you do what you wanted to do when you wanted to do it? How she forced you to take the night shift at the hotel so you wouldn’t be able to go party with your friends? How she kept you so broke you couldn’t score any real action? Always on your case for your drugs and your stroke magazines? Well, now’s your chance to get even.” He kicked open the bathroom door, revealing the remains of Wanda slumped in the tub.

  Drew gagged, and the skellyman slit his throat before the vomit could spew forth. “What self-respecting murderer pukes at his own torture scene?” the skellyman muttered, letting Drew’s body slide to the blood-spattered floor.

  He fit the razor into Drew’s hand and pressed the fingers tight to make sure there were good prints.

  “What a tragic thing,” he mourned, “for a son to murder his mother and then commit suicide in remorse.” Okay, so maybe the medical examiner would see through his ruse without too much trouble…but at least it would buy him a bit more time for his master plan.

  Carefully, he slid Drew’s wallet out of his pants, and plucked out the cash. Besides the hundred he’d given the clerk earlier, there was another $150. Mother must not have been too hard on her only child.

  He ditched the wallet on Drew’s dresser, using a pair of underpants from the massive pile of laundry on the floor to wipe up the urine splotch. Not perfect, but good enough for now. He wasn’t really worried about getting caught. If they hadn’t figured him out by now, they weren’t going to over this.

  He’d been careful—and Drew provided an on-scene scapegoat—yeah, the throat slashing thing might give the cops pause, but he’d observed the easy way out in an investigation proved the road traveled a lot more often in real life than on TV.

  Whistling tunelessly, the skellyman crawled out the doggie door and strode out into the early morning light. He pulled off the yellow gloves and stuffed them into his pocket.

  His loose-limbed shamble ate up the distance as he headed back to the hotel and bed. All in a night’s work…

  Chapter 50

  Brenda finished the bottle of Sangria before the tub cooled off. If she’d had the commitment of joining Penny at school the next day, she might have saved some for later, but since she was off that hook, she didn’t worry about being responsible for once.

  A nagging voice in the back of her mind cautioned again against mixing wine and painkillers, but she forced the dissenter down with a final glass. Getting flat out plastered doesn’t seem too awful after the week I’ve had.

  Less than a week, really. Less than a week for life to be turned completely upside down, inside out, and sideways.

  What am I going to do about Daisy?

  Elise might think this death obsession was normal for a child Daisy’s age under the circumstances, but it didn’t make it easier to accept. She tried to remember if the girl had been so interested in death before the accident, but she couldn’t really focus on anything beyond the here and now. She didn’t think so, however.

  She wasn’t comfortable with doing nothing about the situation. Maybe if she just talked to Daisy about it—let the child get it out of her system once and for all…

  Brenda sighed, setting her empty glass on the floor beside the drained bottle and pulling the plug on the lukewarm water. As the bath gurgled down the drain, she pushed herself to her feet and snagged one of the big, fluffy white towels Penny had laid handy.

  She dried off as best she could, the cast still making things awkward for her—she hoped to get used to it in time. A wave of vertigo washed over her, and she stepped out of the tub before she slipped on the slick porcelain. The last thing I need is another accident.

  She managed to pull on her nightshirt despite a slight balance issue…then crawled under the quilt and closed her eyes, wishing she had just a smidge more Sangria. But the thought of sleep was good too.

  Brenda sighed. It felt good to just let go of everything for a little while. She felt herself begin to sink down through the layers of consciousness, heading for dreamland.

  There was a tug on her sleeve.

  “Mom…mom…I need to talk to you. It’s important!” Robbie’s voice was a mere whisper, but insistent.

  “Let me sleep, Robbie,” she mumbled, turning away from the voice.

  “Mom! You have to listen to me. Please!”

  He was begging for her attention—something unusual for her independent son. Hell, he’d learned to walk when he was eight months old and never looked back.

  “Mom, please—you have to listen. I don’t have much time…”

  “Can’t it wait till morning?” she said fretfully. “I’m so tired.”

  “I’ve got to tell you about the skellyman—”

  Brenda sat bolt upright in bed, staring around her in a panic. Her heart was galloping like a racehorse, but there was no one there.

  She was alone. The voice had been so real, though—so tangible. She had felt the tug on her sleeve.

  Was it just a dream? What if it wasn’t? What if Robbie really is trying to contact her?

  What did he mean about the skellyman? How could he even know about the skellyman?

  Robbie had been dead almost a year before Daisy first saw the stranger.

  Shaking like a leaf, she lay back down in the soft bed. It must have been a manifestation caused by the wine and painkiller cocktail. Somehow, it’d caused the incredibly vivid dream. She must have lain on her sleeve and tugged it herself in her sleep. Ghosts don’t exist.

  As much as she wanted to believe her beloved son would come back and speak to her, Brenda was too much of a pragmatist to believe in the supernatural. She covered her eyes with her good arm and moaned.

  I’ve got to keep it together! she told herself sternly. Daisy needs me.

  She felt a tear slide down her cheek, and swiped it away with her good hand. But it was so good to hear his voice…

  She bit her lip. Why does it have to be so hard…?

  Brenda finally drifted to sleep again. Her
dreams were chaotic.

  The family was at a ball game. Robbie was on the mound, pitching his heart out. Ethan had Daisy on his shoulder, and she was clutching his ears and screaming with laughter. Ethan grinned down at Brenda, and she smiled back at him, heart soaring.

  Suddenly, the sky began to darken, and a wind sprang up. The dirt baselines were stirred into the air, and stinging grit flew into Brenda’s eyes. She knuckled it out, eyes watering.

  Robbie still pitched, the ball flying straight and true, directly over the plate—dead-center of the strike zone every time. Brenda yelled encouragement.

  Then the balls began to darken in the rain, at first gray instead of white, and then darkening further, until they were blobs of deep red. Brenda peered closer, and then realized with a shudder of horror that the balls were no longer regulation baseballs, but pulpy human hearts.And the batter hitting them toward the fences with sickening thumps was the skellyman.

  Chapter 51

  Brenda screamed herself awake, the sound shivering through the air like shattering glass. The dream had been worse than any she’d had so far—the sight of Robbie calmly throwing the hearts as if he did it every day. For some reason, that single image was more devastating to her than anything else she’d seen yet.

  She huddled in the center of the bed, mindless with terror. And the screams wouldn’t stop. Her throat pulsed with raw pain, but the screams went on.

  There was a pounding on the door. Brenda heard it—but she couldn’t move to answer it. She heard a fumbling key in the lock, and the door was pushed open—to be caught up short by the chain she’d latched before her bath.

  “Brenda! Brenda, are you all right?” Penny’s voice came from outside the door.

  Brenda shook her head, even though Penny couldn’t possibly see it. The screams were mere rasping shivers of sound now, but they continued to rip her apart.

  The door slammed against the wall of the room, the chain broken and dangling. Penny rushed into the room and sat on the edge of the bed, gathering Brenda into her arms and shushing her like a child.

  In the shadows of the hallway, Brenda vaguely glimpsed Henry Castillo massaging his upper arm and watching warily. She realized she must look more than a little crazy, but she couldn’t stop the gasping rasps that were all her tortured voice had left.

  “It was just a nightmare, Brenda—just a dream. Everything’s fine. Shh…it’s all right,” Penny murmured rocking Brenda like Brenda used to rock Daisy. “You’re all right.”

  Brenda shuddered violently now, sobbing soundlessly, her voice entirely gone. She closed her eyes, but the thwacking sound of the skellyman’s bat and the vision of it slamming into the red, misshapen hearts blossomed behind her lids, and they flew open.

  “Can you tell me about it?” asked Penny, her arm encircling Brenda’s shoulders.

  Brenda opened her mouth to try, but no sound came out. She shook her head wordlessly.

  Penny nodded sympathetically.

  “That’s okay then. Don’t worry about it. I know it seemed real, and probably terrible—to make you scream so—but it was all just a nightmare. It’ll all be okay. No one could’ve gotten in here—remember, the windows’re locked, and painted shut besides. And you saw we had to smash in the door to get to you. Don’t worry about that, by the way—Henry’ll fix the chain for you before we go back to bed.”

  Brenda was grateful for the soothing words. Penny had the patience of a saint, and her soft voice made you feel safe and protected. No wonder she’s so good with the children.

  Gradually, the shudders began to subside; her shattered nerves stopped jangling like fire bells.

  “Sorry for all the trouble,” she whispered, her voice scratched and broken.

  “Don’t mention it, sweetie. Things’ve been really rough for you lately, haven’t they? I’m so very sorry you’re having to go through all this. Would you like me to call Phil?”

  “What time is it?” Brenda rasped.

  “A little after three.”

  “Oh, my God! I’m so sorry.” Brenda felt like crawling under the bed. “No, please, don’t bother anyone else. I feel like a damned idiot as it is.”

  Penny waved off her apologies.

  “Is there anything I can do to help you sleep?”

  Brenda shook her head. “I think I’ll be okay now.”

  “All right then.” Penny stood up. “I’m going to let you try and get back to sleep. Henry will fix the chain now.”

  “It can wait until morning,” Brenda murmured hoarsely. “You both need your sleep, and I’m not worried about someone coming from inside the house.”

  “If you’re sure…”

  “I’m sure. It’ll be fine.”

  Penny shooed her husband down the hall and shut the door behind her. After the Castillos had gone, Brenda lay back down in the bed, clutching the bright quilt to her chin.

  Who is the skellyman? What was Robbie trying to tell me?

  He seemed to know something she didn’t, and it had apparently terrified him, if the tone of his voice had been any indication.

  Chapter 52

  Robbie bounced impatiently on the end of his sister’s bed. “Wake up, Daisy—wake up!” he whispered urgently. “I need to talk to you!”

  The little puppy walked stiffly toward him, growling deep in its throat. Bones let out a sharp bark.

  “Hush, Bones!” mumbled Daisy sleepily. “You aren’t supposeded to be in here. Papa will make you sleep in the backyard…”

  “Daisy!” Robbie called to get her attention. “Don’t let him bark again.”

  “Oh! You’re back.” The little girl yawned and sat up, rubbing her eyes. “It’s still dark out, Robbie. I don’t want to get up yet.”

  “You can go back to sleep in a minute, squirt. I need to talk to you.”

  “What’s so inportent it’s gots to be now in the dark? I was sleepin’.”

  “I need you to tell Mom something for me. It’s really important,” he emphasized the correct pronunciation, both to correct her, and to drum home the urgency. “I tried to tell her, but she wouldn’t listen to me. You have to tell her for me. It’s about the skellyman—”

  He could tell he had her full attention now.

  She clutched the puppy to her, hand around his muzzle. The puppy whined.

  “Oh! What about him? Do you knows him? Can you tell me stuff about him?”

  “Daisy, listen!”

  “I am listening! Do you know how many childrens he has in the boneyard? Does he like puppies? What does he eat for dinner?”

  “Daisy—”

  “How come you won’t tell me nuthin’?” Her face began to crumple.

  He was losing her attention. He couldn’t afford that. He had to get through to his mom, and if she couldn’t hear him directly, Daisy was his only chance.

  “He eats a lot of Ramen noodles for dinner. He hates puppies—he hates everything. But the important thing—”

  The bedroom door was flung open behind him. “Daisy Melissa Barnett—what is that filthy dog doing on my good sheets!”

  His grandmother strode into the room, hair in curlers, robe girded securely about her waist. She snatched the puppy from Daisy.

  “I was about to put Bones out—” protested the girl.

  “Why did you bring him inside the first place? I told you he had to stay outside at night! Now go back to sleep,” Grammy ordered.

  “But Robbie is talking to me. He needs to tell me something inportent.”

  A flash of pain crossed his grandmother’s face. “Don’t talk nonsense. Lie back down and go to sleep. Now.”

  Robbie felt himself slipping back to the void. Damn it! Why did she come in just at the wrong moment?

  “Daisy, listen!” He put all his remaining strength into his voice. “The skellyman is—”

  But he was back in the black before he could finish the sentence…

  Chapter 53

  When Brenda awoke next, the sun was streaming through the w
indows, Mask was purring in her ear, and the house had the feel of an empty dwelling.

  “Guess I missed the ‘and B’ part of today,” she croaked to the kitten, scratching her behind one ear. Her voice was still broken and hoarse. She dressed in her casual uniform of t-shirt and sweats and fed the kitten then ventured downstairs to the vacant kitchen hoping she might find something to eat.

  It felt wrong to pry through the cabinets though, and she bit her lip thoughtfully. No, she’d go out or something later.

  Just as she was about the leave the room, she spotted a note propped against the salt cellar on the kitchen table. She stepped over to it and skimmed the piece of paper:

  Brenda—

  There is juice in the fridge, and muffins in the bread basket. I left bacon and eggs in the microwave for you—just nuke it for about 30 seconds. If you see anything else you want, feel free to eat it. Remember—mi casa es su casa.

  --Penny

  Brenda peeked in the fridge, feeling a bit guilty for it, and found the promised juice. It felt good to her strained throat. She rummaged further and found the muffins.

  Feeling like a pampered princess, she hit the button on the microwave. Hopefully today will make up for yesterday.

  Chapter 54

  The skellyman had treated himself to a hearty breakfast on the way back to the hotel from Wanda’s home, splurging so far as to eat a real steak and egg meal for the first time in what felt like decades, even though his damaged teeth ached when he was finished. He could almost feel his body expanding as he pushed back his empty plate at last.

  He groaned. All the rich food was playing havoc with his digestion. He needed some quality time with the toilet. I’ve been starving myself more than I realized to keep my svelte figure.