"Oh, not a problem. I'm going to need you there tomorrow," repied Frank. Bart tilted his head a little at the comment.
"Need me there?"
Frank polished off another beer and said, "Of course I need you there! I can't go off sneeking around and exploring the mansion on my own!"
Part 4: The Darkness, the Party, and the Jailer
As the tiny light faded, so did the hopes of one Bartholomew Dunn. It seemed to glide and dance its way upward in an unnatural spiral. Bart could hear the sounds of steps. Little echoes in a large hall. Each step was a piercing reminder of what had happened, utterly maddening. They should have just followed the rules. Why couldn't we just be content; why couldn't we just be like everyone else? By God, what have we done?
"And this door leads to the elegant, yet under construction for repair, spiral staircase. It reaches all the way to the third floor," Miss Van Deventer had told them at the beginning of the tour.
"It must be gigantic," Anna concluded, a little sad that they were refused admission to the very first double-door on the tour.
"Yes, it is. They had it erected toward the middle of the mansion, to sort of join everything together. It is quite the sight, but I'm afraid it is very off limits for us. But good news everyone! Everything else in the Van Deventer mansion is structurally sound enough for us to visit," Miss Van Deventer assured. Everyone in the first tour group, roughly thirty people, laughed as they vacated the front lobby, and unbeknownst to them, made their way to the first floor recreation area.
Frank grabbed Bart by the back of his dress shirt, holding him still from the moving group.
"What?" whispered Bart.
"See, look." Frank nodded forward. Both of their wives and children were moving ahead.
"Let's see this staircase thing," Frank grinned, charged with juvenile-like excitement. He was drunk and Bart knew it. They had pregamed for this event, well Frank did most of the pre-party drinking. Bart was such a nervous wreck that he wasn't able to finish even one beer. Since his fainting episode on Christmas, Bart was worried, overly cautious, and slightly paranoid.
"Can we just stick with the group please?" Bart pleaded, but Frank was already trying to budge open the forbidden door.
"Jesus, what if the second group sees us?" charged Bart in a loud whisper.
"Shut up. They went to the second floor first to see the bedrooms." With that, Frank opened the creaking double-door.
"Holy crap, it's cold in here. Come on, lets take a look around."
Frank disappeared past the door, and Bart felt as if he had no choice but to follow. If he had known what he knows now, he would have immediately went for help.
"Close the door," Frank instructed. "I'll get out my lighter."
Bart closed the door and couldn't see a thing. It was pitch black. He knew his brother was in front of him somewhere although he couldn't even make out his shape. There was a dry, musty, old smell in the room. He could breath in and take in the mansion's age and history.
"Found my lighter. Christ...Bart, I think something is brushing up against my leg," whimpered Frank. Bart heard the clank and then the flick of Frank's zippo.
And then there was light; then they could see.
****
Extravagant was not the word for it. Lavish, ostentatious, profligate, exorbitant, and grandiose. Anna had been searching her brain for bigger and better words to describe the Van Deventer mansion.
"Come right this way folks. Next we will show you the glass bottom swimming pool which was installed by my late Great-Great-Grandfather in 1932," expounded Miss Julia Van Deventer while walking the first tour of people into the large swimming area also known as the recreation hall. The total number of parents and children invited to the mansion party were divided into two groups. Both Bart and Frank's family were in the first group which was led by Stella's teacher Miss Van Deventer. The second group, led by Susan Willemsen, took a different course of action by first heading upstairs to tour the mansion's twenty-four bedrooms. Susan was a cousin of the Van Deventer family.
Anna was in complete awe. Never in her life had she seen such luxury. As you walk into the mansion, large marble pillars seem to boom themselves up to the ceiling. The ceiling itself was a masterpiece, lined with artwork that mirrored Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel. Miss Julia, as she let her students call her, had pointed out that Edmund Van Deventer had put in a specific request to have his ceiling almost copy that of the famous church. "I'd say they got it right," Anna told Stella.
"You should have told us to bring out swim suits," Richard Lintler called out, only half joking. A few people in the first tour laughed, including Anna.
"Well, maybe for the next party," Miss Julia replied with a smile.
"Really? You think we can come back again?" Stella asked excitedly.
Anna watched as Miss Julia Van Deventer answered Stella with a purposefully vague answer leaving Stella with some hope that they'd be able to have a second visit, but knowing well that they'd never be brought back again. She's good at speaking with children. And of course she would be good at that. The most beloved teacher in the fifth grade was good at her job.
"Where is your husband Mrs. Dunn?"
"Huh?"
"Your husband. Where is he? And Frank Dunn too. Did we lose a few people already?" Miss Julia asked, looking into the crowd to find the missing duo.
Anna looked around, quickly becoming embarrassed and scared at the same time, for Bart and for Frank. She couldn't find them. Kristy and Larry looked perplexed as well.
Someone from the tour called out, "Well, can we keep the tour going? Just because some people aren't following the rules doesn't mean it has to spoil our fun."
Now Anna was completely humiliated. How could Bart do this to her and Stella? Then another thought jumped her mind, What if he fainted again?
Then the screaming started. A long bellowing cry coming from the previous lobby hall. Everyone in the tour gasped with surprise.
"Daddy?" Stella mustered, stricken with fear.
****
"Ya missed the fireworks. You certainly are a piece of work; ain't ya?"
Bart's vision was blurry and his head, foggy. The passage of time, now only one hour close to midnight, felt nearly instant at first.
"Jesus, Frank!" Bart yelled out loudly. But now there were no more echoes; the voice died out almost instantly.
"Shut up. No one outside can hear ya."
Bart took in his new surroundings with a mixture of awe, disappointment, and fear. He was sitting a small jail cell. The stone walls surrounding the three tiny holding cells made him feel like he was underground, but the moonlight was shining down bright from high windows.
"And I don't care too much to be lissnen ta-ya either. So shut it!"
The voice was that of none other than deputy local-yocal Kurt Richter. He sat at a small brown desk in the corner of the small town jail. Bart remembered him from school; he wasn't too much older than Anna.
"Where's my wife? Did you find my brother?" Bart demanded to know.
"Now, I said shut up!" Deputy Kurt stood up fast and briskly walked over to Bart's cell.
"You can save your talkin' for someone who gives a dump. You've got some nerve, ya know? Ya ruined the party."
Did I?
"Wait, what are you talking about? Is my daughter..."
"Your daughter and wife are fine, ya numbskull. But I wouldn't be too surprised if they weren't totally pissed off, and on, about ya. You're an idiot you know that?" lectured Kurt before swallowing the tobacco spit that was building up in his mouth.
"Stop calling me names. Do you know how confused I am?" Bart asked tearing up.
Kurt laughed.
"Oh my goodness. You are dense. Do you have any idea how disappointed people are in you? I'm not even supposed to be talking to you, but goddamn you are pretty frick'n worthless. I don't see the harm in it. I've known troublemakers like you. You trying to get noticed, do somethin' different, get re-cog-niz
ed. Well, ya dun it. People gunna remember ya now... for a fool!"
Bart was tired, hungry, scared, and utterly confused.
"Thing is, I don't like you. Never did. When I see ya at the food store, I avoid ya. I can't understand why someone as brilliant as your wife would choose a numb-nuts like yourself to be with."
Okay then, at least that's cleared up. Ex-boyfriend of Anna's or something.
"Anywho, I'd be pissed as hell at ya if I were her." The deputy snorted back what sounded like a very large snot wad.
"Alright, you mentioned that I ruined the party. How did I ruin it? Do you even know what happened?" pleaded Bart.
"Of course I do. I ain't made deputy for nothing ya know."
"Yes, you are a perfect scholar of the justice system," Bart muttered under his breath.
"What was that? So help me, gosh darn-it. I'll step in there and hand ya a good whoop'n."
Kurt spat on the floor and marched right up to Bart's cell. They were standing inches apart now, only separated by the cell bars.
"Where is my wife?"
"I ain't tellin."
"Where is my daughter?"
"Wouldn't you like to know?"
"Where the hell is my brother?"
"Wow! You are nuttier than squirrel shit. You know that?"
"Boys!" a female voice called out. It was Anna just entering the cell room. She still wore her coat from the party. Bart noticed immediately the stern look of deep concern on her face.
"Honey, is everything alright?"
"Well, howdy there Anna, it sure is nice to see you this evening. Too bad we couldn't meet on different circumstances," Kurt said gesturing to Bart.
"Screw you, Kurt," fumed Bart. "Can I please talk to my wife alone?"
"Yes, I'd like a few moments alone with Bart," Anna reiterated slowly stepping toward his cell.
"Well, okay. But if he tries any funny business, just holler. I'll be there right outside the door," Kurt replied strutting to the door and finally exited after turning one last time to peek back at Anna. Bart felt relieved to have him gone.
"Anna, thank God you are alright..."
"Stop. Just stop. Listen to me. Stella is fine. She's at home with your parents. I am here because I wanted to hear your side of the story. So when I am done talking, you are going to tell me everything. I need to hear this from you, Bart. I need to know what you saw."
Bart cleared his thoughts. He felt like he was on trial with Anna acting as the judge. He thought back to the party and to entering that forbidden room. Of course he felt put on the spot by his own loving wife, yet he finally felt confident in himself and what he had to say.
"They took Frank!" Bart blurted out just below the level of a shout.
Anna just stood there, waiting for Bart to speak.
"Right. Well listen baby, this isn't a time for games. The Van Deventers have taken Frank, I saw it right before my very eyes. At first I saw it, then I just heard it. The sound of footsteps echoing upward and away. Frank was dragged up the stairs; you never got to see it, but that staircase is massive. They knocked him out. I mean they must have knocked him out. Which knowing what I know now sounds a little crazy, but I think they knocked him over the head. Perhaps they threw something at him. Maybe a rock, a brick, or a ball... something hard. We broke into that room, the under construction room, because Frank wanted to roam the house. We should not have done that, I agree. But that doesn't give them the right to do what they did! I mean, you can't just abduct someone. Those tiny little echoing steps! They seemed to climb those stairs forever, on and on while dragging my brother behind them. How are they so strong, huh? How can that be? How can they be? Jesus, Anna I think someone I work with was right. The old-timer, Arthur Reed. He's like seventy four years old. I can see their beady eyes, their tiny yellow teeth, and their stout and pudgy arms. They were naked. The light of Frank's Zippo made their eyes glisten in contrast to the darkness. I was most afraid of them when Frank dropped the lighter; then all I could do was hear them. Their breath was heavy and raspy. Baby, I was so afraid that I couldn’t do anything to help Frank. I feel so ashamed. Can you please get the sheriff? We need to tell him this now. We need to march our asses right back up to the Van Deventer mansion and take Frank back from those...those...LITTLE FUCKING PEOPLE!"
Anna wiped away a few tears that were streaming down her cheeks. She turned her back to Bart and walked to the door leading outside. She needed fresh air; she needed to breathe again.
"Are you getting the sheriff?" Bart asked.
Slowly Anna turned halfway so that she didn't have to look at her husband.
"Bart, Frank is in the cell next to you - sedated."
THE END
Party at the House of Gold Page 3