He shrugged blue, onesie shoulders. “Pugh.”
I nodded. “Yeah, ‘pugh.’ One day I’ll figure out what that means. Uh…it isn’t ‘poop’, is it?”
“Already poop!”
I nodded relief. “Good boy. And in the potty. Not in Daddy’s shoe like the bad cat back home. So! You slept okay, huh? Didn’t go roaming about the halls, anything like that?”
“Sleep.”
I grabbed his little shoulders as he started to rock off-balance again. “Steady, sailor. You, uh…didn’t see anybody in the room last night, by chance? Other than mommy and daddy?”
He sneezed on my chest.
“Thank you.” I wiped his nose with his sleeve. “Didn’t see any of those…Animal People, for instance?”
He shook his head. Found it good, and shook it harder, then still harder until he was dizzy enough to fall off the divan; I caught him at the edge and pulled him close to me, eliciting a squeal of laughter.
“I could get really jealous, you know,” Donna said as she appeared above us, behind spatula and apron, “if the three of you didn’t look so damn cute.”
“Dam koot!” Nathaniel enthused.
Donna gave me a wry eye, swept the boy into her arms. “As you see, he’s being raised in the most conscientious of environments,” and she buried her face in his neck and made blubbery wet sounds until he thrashed and screamed tortured delight.
“Some of us are trying to sleep here,” Katie yawned beside me.
“Really--” Donna whirled the baby high, swooped him down for a final kiss before turning back for the kitchen, craning half-around to offer Katie an arched brow, “--is that what you’re trying to do?”
“’Let he who is without sin,” Katie called after her, “be the first—“
“—to make coffee!” Donna interrupted. “It’s already brewing!”
“Co-co!” Nathaniel cried.
Donna bussed his fat cheek. “That as well, my liege!”
* * *
I was drawing pictures with Nathaniel later on the living room floor while the womenfolk made lunch.
I had always fancied myself a latent artist and was working hard on a the front façade of the Sandersons’ home with crayons and poster paper while Nathaniel labored over what looked like a boa constrictor drinking cocoa. We lay on our bellies under bright sunlight from the bay windows.
Byron came downstairs sporting a pipe and a handful of schematics, pencil stuck behind his ear from working upstairs. He spied us on the shiny plank wood floor and came over. I looked up, smiling. Byron was studying his son. I thought I imagined the slightest bit of jealousy in the blue beach boy eyes. Maybe not.
“Well! You two are becoming quite the cowhands! Regular partners!” His smile was a little crooked but that might have been the pipe.
To detour the conversation I grabbed both drawings and held them up, side by side. “What do you think, Dad?”
Byron sucked on his pipe noisily and inspected them both with a tilted head.
“Well?”
He frowned at the art, finally nodded. “Elliot, do you want to remain friends?”
I felt a tug from inside. ‘Yes! I do!”
“Then don’t ever ask me which drawing is yours.”
I made a face, threw my crayons back in the old tobacco tin and sat up with a grunt. “Everyone’s a critic.”
He wiggled his brows. “And that happens to be an original Dutch Masters cigar tin from the turn of the century you’re abusing.”
“Uh-huh. That’s why you let your son keep his crayons in it.”
He lifted his chiseled chin. “My son has talent!”
“Oh yeah?” I grabbed Nathan’s drawing again, shook it at his father. “Then what’s this supposed to be?”
Byron gave it a cursory onceover. “Python having some cocoa, obviously.”
“Wrong! It’s a boa constrictor!” I turned for support. “Right, Nathan?”
“Pie-tawn.”
I tossed the drawing back to him. “He’s only saying that ‘cause he likes you better!”
“Talent and good taste!” Byron winked at his son and turned to leave.
“Hey!” I retrieved my exemplary façade. “I’m stealing your carpet ball, by the way. I’ve grown accustomed to its face.”
“Not without a black eye you’re not.”
“You and what army? Anyway, you probably have half a dozen of the damn things.”
“Sorry,” Byron puffed, consulting his schematic absently, “just the one. And it stays where it is.” He lifted his head, sniffed. “What are the womenfolk making?”
“Whatever I ask them to.”
“Uh-huh. When you’re through playing Cezanne there, maybe you could actually do a little paranormal investigative work before lunch.”
“Sorry, union rules, only work at night. Speaking of which…” I added, light tone deepening.
Byron raised an attentive brow.
“Uh…Katie and I have decided to spend the night in the nursery together.”
Byron took the pipe from his mouth. “Oh?” He glanced at Nathaniel.
“Without the kids, of course.”
Byron lowered the schematic papers slowly. “I see. Well. All right. If you really think that’s the best approach to this thing.”
“I think it’s the worst idea I ever heard, but Katie insists the sooner we get to the heart of the matter…and the longer we delay, the more possibility of unwanted events. The kids can’t sleep with you the rest of their lives, Byron.”
Byron nodded thanks and offered me a sympathetic little smile. On him, of course, it made a perfect dimple. “I appreciate it, Elliot. Appreciate all you’re trying to do. Maybe I don’t say that enough.”
“That’s okay,” I said. “I mean, you don’t say it enough, but that’s okay. Everyone understands the pressure you’ve been under. And that you were an asshole to begin with.”
“As-ho,” from Nathaniel.
Byron rolled his eyes. “Thanks so much, Elliot. You’re a real pip.”
“The boy has to learn the truth about his father someday.” I flashed him my shit-eating grin.
“Sure. Right. Well, I’m off! Good luck to you two up there tonight! Enjoy your cribs!” he called back at me, waving a hand in the air.
“Sanderson?” I started for him. “Hey, c’mon, man! That damned divan is bad enough! I’m getting spina bifida!”
“Spinea –dif,” from Nathaniel. “Whad dat?”
“Help me out here, Byron or I swear I’ll tell him it’s a small dinosaur.”
Byron paused and relit his pipe, considered. “Actually, I do have an extra mattress. An inflatable one out in the garage. Donna and I use it to go camping. Problem is, it’s the only one we have, and it’s made to sleep two…”
“Gracious sakes! That is a problem.”
Byron gave me a jaundiced look, shook his head, then turned and headed for the kitchen. “Nathaniel,” he ordered, “wash your hands thoroughly, now, when you’re through playing with this man!”
* * *
My sense of humor began to fade proportionately as the day wore on and the dark night approached.
The Sandersons have a number of wall mirrors in their enormous home, and every time I passed in front of one of them I saw this terrible white face staring back at me: my own.
“You look like shit, darling,” Katie told me as we strolled through the backyard gardens.
I paused to look through a wedge of buildings on Orange Avenue at a small view of golden afternoon beach and tumbling breakers. “Thanks. That’s the first time you’ve ever called me darling.”
Katie followed my gaze. “It’s the first time you’ve ever looked like shit.”
I took a big gulp of fresh-blown Pacific Ocean breeze, watching a gracefully kiting gull. “Would it surprise you if I told you I’m not enjoying this vacation very much?”
“Investigation, Elliot. I think it’s supposed to be an investigation.”
I nodded a
t pure blue sky, one gull chasing another now. “Somehow though…never mind.”
“What?”
I looked around at Donna’s beautiful garden, manicured lawn, oceans of bougainvillea, stately palm planted just so and smothered with ground cover. Then I looked back at the brooding towers of their home. “Our Louisiana adventure with poor little Amy. Rife with mosquitoes and alligators and voodoo and unsavory rednecks, yet somehow less…”
“Scary?”
“…I was going to say ‘ominous,’ but ‘scary’ will do.”
Katie waggled her head, went into a grade school sing-song. “Bledsoe’s afraid of Animal People, Bledsoe’s afraid of Animal People!”
I ignored her, turning to the dark, towering turrets again. “Look at that place. You can feel the bad vibes emanating from it. While out here, just a few yards away, the air is…fresh. Even smells cleaner!”
“It’s the bougainvillea.”
“It’s not the bougainvillea out here, it’s the leprous halls inside.”
“Leopards?”
“’Leprous.’ It’s a Biblical term, you wouldn’t know it. It means ‘covered with scales’… like leprosy.”
“I know what it means, Elliot! And old houses are not susceptible to live organisms. Except mold.”
I grunted, bending to a patch of spiky green. “The question is, are live organisms susceptible to old houses? What is this stuff, anyway?”
“Ice Plant. Only grows close to the ocean. Cool, huh?”
“Yeah. Maybe we should bring some to the house, cool it off.”
“You need some sleep.”
“I need a drink. No, several drinks, then lots of sleep.”
“My partner the coward.”
I straightened with a smug look. “Like you’re not scared about tonight, too.”
“I’m terrified,” Katie smiled, hands on the hips of her shorts, eyes combing the neighborhood. “The difference is, I’ve learned to control it, to master it. No one dragged me kicking and screaming into this work, you know.”
“An apropos phrase. Listen…”
When I trailed off she turned to me: tight white shorts, tight pink blouse, tight little figure. “Yes--?”
“…I think it’s best…maybe only one of us should have a go at the nursery tonight…”
“Sure! Kind of grown attached to that divan, huh?”
“I’m serious. That room—maybe all the rooms—are sick, Katie. And they’re not through with the Sandersons yet, as you damn well know. If something should happen to you or me…well, I’m dispensable, you’re not.”
I could feel her smile on my back. “I’m not, huh?”
“I mean it, honey. I don’t think they’re going to make it without us—or at least one of us—and I’ve grown rather fond of the Sandersons.”
“One little Sanderson in particular, I think.”
I turned away. “He’s Byron’s son, Katie, and it doesn’t matter anyway…”
“He’s crazy about you, Elliot and it matters a lot. You need to get one of those little towheads of your own.”
“Yeah. Sure.”
“Or maybe the Sandersons would consent to letting Byron knock me up! That way you’d be sure to get a little towhead! Here! I’ll go ask!”
I grabbed her arm as she started past me, turning her maybe a little too sharply.
“Ow! Come on, Elliot, you know you’re the only one whose seed I’d have in my belly!”
“Goddamnit, Katie, I’m serious!”
She took my hand gently from her arm. “I know you are, sweetie.”
“Something bad is going to happen in that room tonight, I can feel it!”
“I know you can.” She raised my hand, kissed my knuckles softly. “That’s why you need to be there, to take care of it. You’re the gifted one. I’m just your run-of-the-mill psychic investigator.”
“Then why do you need to be there?”
“To take care of you! Don’t worry, I promised Rita I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”
I scoffed. “Rita. Yeah. Like she cares.”
“She does care. That’s her calling now…”
I frowned at her, reached and took out my cell phone, looked at it. “It isn’t ringing.”
Katie grinned. “It will.”
The phone rang.
I flipped up the lid, looked at the caller name.
“Rita! Hi!”
“Hi, yourself. How goes the haunting, or are you spending all your time on the beach with those tight white shorts?”
“Spending all my time on the beach with the shorts.”
“That’s nice. Say hi to them for me. Are you two getting anywhere? With the case, I mean?”
“It’s…moving along.”
“You don’t sound terribly convinced.”
“Not feeling terribly convinced just now. How university life? Any phone calls for me?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact.”
My pulse quickened. “Don’t tell me I got tenure!”
Kate gave a bright look beside me.
“Okay, I won’t tell you that you got tenure. You did, however, get a call from your mother.”
I groaned inwardly. “Damn, did I miss her birthday? Mother’s Day, something like that?”
“Not according to my calendar. She said she just called to say ‘hi.’”
“Oh. That’s a relief.”
“Is it? I’m not so sure.”
“What’s that mean?”
“She sounded…funny, Elliot.”
“’Funny’?”
“Funny. Kind of like you sound now. Are you sure everything’s okay there? Did you have a fight with Katie?”
“No. Of course not.”
“So something is wrong. Is she there? Let me speak to her.”
I made a face, handed the phone to Katie.
“Hi, Rita! How’s the campus queen? Get hit on by any fullbacks lately? Me? Fine! What? Oh, you know him, he always sounds funny. Right. You too!”
Katie handed back the phone.
“Get all that straightened out between you?”
“No. She sounds funny too. Not funny like you, though…maybe funny for you.”
“Well, we’re a laugh riot here in Coronado.”
“I gave her your address, Elliot. I hope that’s all right…”
“Who? Mom? The address here? Why?”
“Because she asked for it, brain child, and because she sounded…”
“Funny.”
“…worried. Elliot. Don’t get upset. I think she’s coming down there for a little visit.”
“You’re joking.”
“No, I’m the member of the cast who doesn’t do comic relief. I hope you’re not mad at me. I know it’s tourist season down there, the hotels are packed. Do you think there’s room there in the house?”
I breathed a metallic sigh into the phone. “Oh, there’s room. Room’s the one thing we got in spades here.”
“Yeah? What else you got?”
I glanced up at Katie. “I’m not sure yet, Rita. I’ll call as soon as something substantial develops.”
“Please. You really do sound scared.”
“I thought you said I sounded ‘funny.”
“Yes. That’s what I meant. Bye now!”
“Bye.” I put the phone away.
“Is everything all right?” from a concerned Katie.
“You met my mother once, right?”
“Yes. She’s how I found you, remember? I liked your mother. A lot.”
I nodded. “Then I guess everything’s all right.”
“Hey you two!” Donna calling from the porch.
“Hey!” Katie waved. “I want some of these flowers!”
“Take them! How does spaghetti and garlic bread sound for dinner?”
“Delicious!” Katie called. She turned to me. “--Elliot?”
“Great,” I nodded, gazing up at the dark nursery window and thinking, for no good reason: Last Meal.
TWELVE
The figure stood at the door, a rather small figure but surrounded by a nimbus of light in the dark room; I couldn’t make out its form. It seemed to beckon me and I got up, not caring that my feet were bare on the cold hardwood floor, and followed it.
Suddenly we were in a dark long hallway filled with mist and the light was moving fast away from me and around the corner. I hurried to catch up but by the time I turned the corner the figure had disappeared and I stood in a large hulking room in almost total darkness, completely still, unable to move.
Suddenly there was a deep rumbling whisper at my ear, along with the foul stench of rancid animal breath, and I heard the words: “She won’t let her near her…I cannot touch her anymore…I had no choice!” I could feel a dark, menacing presence behind me and I wanted to turn but I was too terrified to make a move. A claw-like hand, huge and black, gripped my right shoulder painfully, holding me rigid. “I had no choice…” the voice growled viciously, its fetid breath enfolding me, “She made me do it…”
Suddenly the small nimbus of light was standing in front of me again and the voice roared its fury and from behind me a black vile figure appeared and violently leaped at the tiny specter, and its terrified high-pitched scream seemed to echo about the empty chamber and I stood helpless as the light disappeared, eaten alive by the dark angry force in front of me…
The ringing chimes shook the nursery walls, the room’s very foundation.
“Pugh!”
My eyes jerked up. Nathaniel—luminescent in his Dr. Denton’s—seemed to part the mist like a tide as he came toward me from the open nursery doors.
“Nathaniel!” I swung my head about, throwing beads of sweat, and found Katie, safe inside her jersey atop Byron’s fat air mattress.
“Nathaniel! How’d you get in! The doors were locked!”
A trundled giggle as he drew near. “Animal people!”
An angry growl behind me, right next to my ear. I whirled, suddenly holding the carpet ball in clenched fingers, and saw only the misted mantle, the glowing eye of the clock as the last toll of midnight struck, reverberated through my being like a sonic boom. The entire room warbled gelatinously for an instant in my vision.
Then Nathaniel swept past me, stumbling and laughing on his way to the mantle.
“Nathaniel! Wait!”
His laughter, a ringing echo now from a bottomless well, drowned the last tone of the chime. As the mantle shadows and mist drowned the child’s view from me.
NIGHT CHILLS: A Bracken and Bledsoe Paranormal Mystery Page 13