by Zoey Kane
“I suggest setting up in the ballroom, Bob.”
“Thanks, Claire.” Off he went, whistling.
“Hi. I’m singing tonight,” a gravelly voice said as Claire was reviewing the names of the guests: Grave Gary, Pricilla Dead, Marcel, Prince of Mist, Dr. K., Midnight Man, Ted Johnson (crossed out), Pooky Boo!…
Looking up revealed an abundantly endowed woman with black, ratted hair and a spike collar. She was wearing her favorite torn and hole-dotted dress, which stopped just above her chubby knees covered in black torn stockings. “I’m Fanny Gwen. I’m singing tonight.”
“Riiiight… Up the stairs to the third floor ballroom. Make yourself comfortable.”
“I will. My band will be here in two minutes.”
“I’ll send them up,” said Claire, before speedily calling her mom. When Zo answered, Claire said, “Motherrrrr! Shouldn’t we talk? Soon?”
“Put Greg on the desk and meet in the parlor.”
*
Claire took the table in the corner, in the dark, in the back. She didn’t want to be bothered.
Zo showed up in a red, floor-length night gown, and a darker red shawl.
“Motherrrr.”
“I’m wearing a slip with it! Have some fun, honey.”
The bartender brought two virgin margaritas with chips and salsa to the pair.
“You know, this just ain’t right, Mom. What kind of a rep are we getting?”
All of a sudden, a figure leaped out from around another table in the dark beside them, and smiled.
“Hello, Lucas. Are you having a good time?” asked Claire tiredly.
“If that woman doesn’t get up off your floor in the lobby, bury her!”
“Thank you, Lucas. I’ll take it under advisement.” He leaped off, cape flying.
“Okay! After we finish our drinks and chips, I’ve got a ghoulish dress to die for,” Claire said, laughing.
“Thatta girl!”
The drinks were delicious, the chips and salsa tasty.
“Mom!” Claire’s eyes were fixed on an oil painting of a ship, its sails illuminated by the moon in its background. “Look at the name of the ship, painted on the bow, the Venus Moon. Isn’t Venus the Goddess of Love, Mother? Remember, ‘He who finds the Moon, finds Love.’ What do you think?”
Zo pushed her chair back and got up for a better look. “Wow! But, so what? So, there is a ship that correlates with that piece of paper. You’re thinking it means something? What would it mean? …And why? I don’t see anything else about this painting that I could make into anything. Unless this is a ship that Fillmore sailed on and found true love. But, no, even he is not that old.”
“What does that brass plate on the frame say, Mom?”
“Sink and ye shall find.”
Just then, heavy drum beats and the rest of a band of instruments could be heard in crashing music. The singer’s rockin’ voice coursed through the walls. The dance had begun.
“I’ve got a camera. You go get dressed. I’ll meet you at the ball, Claire.”
Claire began to say something, but her mother was already zooming up the steps. “See you there.” She sighed with a smile of acceptance. “I guess I better go get changed.”
*
Up in the master suite, double doors locked behind her, Claire went through all of Mrs. Fillmore’s clothes. The closet was huge. There were more shoes than she had seen at the local department store alone, boxed up in mint condition.
She took off the pink, silk dress she had borrowed. Her delicate and feminine body now stood there in the moonlight, sporting a white slip. “Thank you, Mrs. Fillmore. I have the utmost respect and gratitude for your belongings. I know my mother borrows some of it, but what she wears I will never… and I suppose you would agree it is good it is being made use of.” Claire spoke as if the lady were there, truly listening.
She knew exactly what she was going to wear, since she had spotted it numerous times over the course of her short stay there. Claire grabbed a black, shimmery, and barely see-through robe. This robe was much too glamorous for exiting a shower into, or lying in bed in. It was probably for Mr. Thomas Fillmore to admire her. Not only was it long and waif-like against her body, but it had a luxurious black fur trim. The length caused it to glide handsomely along the wood floor. Claire put on a black satin camisole and black satin skinny pants, leaving the robe open to flow with all her moves. A pair of open-to-reveal-every-toe pumps finished her ensemble. Everything fit well together. “If Mom can do it, so can I,” were her last words before taking a breath and facing the crowd.
Upstairs in the ballroom, the crowd was manic. For a moment, Claire felt as if she were in a nightmare. But, hey, this one was sorta fun, she realized. She spotted Zo across the room, carefully head-banging with some ghouls and Frankenstein.
Instantly, Claire took off through the crowd toward her mother—her safety net. “Hi, Mom!” she yelled over the music.
“Claire, dear. Have you ever head-banged?!”
“Just after an all-nighter for an essay in college! Only my head made contact with the wall!”
“Here, have fun!” Zo grabbed her daughter’s hand and made it look as if she twirled her, and then resumed prudent head-banging.
Claire tried jumping and moving around like the rest of the masses, and at first felt totally out of her element. She was fighting her body’s desire to copy them. It wasn’t long, however, before the drumbeats sedated her into being a little silly, letting loose a little, being one with the crowd, go with the flow, beat with the best, be in with the din.
Shortly thereafter, Fanny announced an intermission. Looking sweaty and tired, she headed straight over to the stand-in bar to get a drink.
Ghosts, goblins, ghouls and such all mingled together. It looked like a whole coven of witches were in a corner sharing spells over wine. A werewolf and Mr. Evil were in the center, excited about whatever they were talking about. Soon, Elvira drinking a Bloody Mary walked by Claire to introduce herself to one of the dozens of Count Draculas.
“I vant to suck your blood,” a man’s voice whispered into Claire’s ear.
“Oh?!” Claire was startled. “Lucas?”
“Didn’t mean to make you jump.” He smiled, accentuating his realistic fangs.
“It’s okay. I just didn’t expect that.” Claire scratched her neck.
“Are you enjoying yourself?”
“Ye-yes. Yes, I guess I am.”
Lucas-Dracula that close to Claire made her tense at first. It wasn’t necessarily his fault; there was a sea of guests in the ballroom, all brushing up against each other. He had no choice but to be in her personal space.
His smoky hazel eyes seemed to trance her for a moment, and she felt all of a sudden aware of her staring. She looked away and back to break her gaze. Underneath all the pale makeup and spray-painted black hair, Claire could tell that Lucas was actually attractive, and just a little taller than she, which made it even better.
“May I escort you to the parlor, where we can have more of a private drink together?” he asked.
Claire felt her cheeks turn hot and her heart skip for just a moment. “Uh, well, sure. Why not? It is getting really hot in here.” She fanned herself with a hand.
He offered her his elbow as they went downstairs, next to the kitchen, into the parlor. There were just a few other supernaturals in there: Igor and a ghost, E.T. and Cat Woman. E.T.? And Cat Woman? Claire thought over that strange combination.
They went to a little table away from the bar. It was cozier in that corner and quieter. They sat there, looking at each other, for a moment not saying a word. Claire got goosebumps.
“Are you the woman I booked my room with tonight?”
“Huh?”
“Did I speak to you on the phone this morning?”
“Oh, yes, you did.”
Those eyes, deep like the sea… that face sculpted so perfectly.
“Do you live here?” he asked.
“Yes, I do. Well, my m
other and I do, together.”
“Really? Hm. What was all that stuff in the paper this morning?” He chuckled. “Is that true? Did a woman see a ghost?”
“Ghost? Oh, I think that’s impossible. I think she had a nightmare. The police couldn’t prove a thing.”
“It would be hard to prove a ghostly encounter, wouldn’t it?”
“Yeah, I guess it would. As for myself, though, I don’t believe in the supernatural.”
“You don’t?” He arched an eyebrow.
“It can’t be proven.”
“Haven’t you heard of faith?”
“Of course, but…”
“But, that’s all right, Claire. No need for explanation. Just remember, just because you haven’t seen something doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.”
“Oh, I know.” She straightened her back. “Like a tree in a forest and if it falls…”
“You can apply it to almost anything in life, such as love.”
“Love?” she uttered. Is this guy gonna get melodramatic on me here?
“Yes. You hear others talk about it, but you can’t know that feeling until you feel it. It’s the faith that that will happen someday for you that makes the world worth living.”
“And I should be taking advice from you? The undead?” she joked.
He paused. “You are so pr-r-r-retty.”
“Me?” was all that she could think to say. Just what is this guy trying to get at? Oh, Claire calm down, she coached herself.
“Definitely. If I were to get my fangs filed down, would you kiss me?”
“I don’t know.” She looked over her shoulder and gazed at the picture of the ship at sea for a moment and had an is this really happening? moment. She then turned back to him to say, “You’re so different from my past boyfriends. They wore colors, had their hair styled, no blood dripping at the mouth sort of thing…”
“What ar-r-re you trying to say?” he said, chuckling.
They continued with their conversation over a couple of ciders, until Claire looked at the clock and noticed an hour and a half had passed. She hadn’t even noticed that Fanny had been back onstage for the last half hour in raging music while she had been talking to Dracula.
“Let’s go back up to the party,” Claire suggested.
*
Back up on the third floor, Zo was making lots of wonderful friends. She soon spotted her lovely daughter coming through the doors. “Claire!” She waved her over. “Claire!”
Claire made her way through the crowd. “Hello, Mother.” She smiled.
“Hi, I would like you to meet this hairy little fellow,” Zo introduced.
“Me meme me mememe,” the walking wig said cheerfully.
“Hello.” Claire bowed. “Mother, I have someone for you to meet. Meet Count Dracula.” She turned to look at him, but he wasn’t there.
“Where is he?” Zo asked.
“I don’t know. We were just walking together. I must have lost him.”
“Maybe he turned into a bat,” Zo kidded.
Claire was obviously very disappointed.
“It’s okay,” Zo continued, “I’m sure you’ll catch up with him again before the night is over.”
“Attention, attention!” Ms. Fanny Gwen cut the music for a moment. With microphone still in hand, she declared, “Now things are gonna get wild!”
“Things weren’t already wild?” Claire asked herself.
Fanny took the lead guitar from one of her band members and wailed on it. It was as if her song was impromptu, never rehearsed, and it worked. The drums and bass came in to help her once she got into a song much of the audience recognized. Claire couldn’t stop watching Fanny’s fingers fly and her body gyrate.
Fanny grabbed hold of the standing mike and suddenly dropped to the floor, guitar still in one hand. Her whole body convulsed. Claire’s eyebrows furrowed.
“She really gets into it,” Zo commented.
The guitar playing ceased and there was a sudden loud screech from the amp and then a loud boom. The crowd grew silent and still. Fanny continued to gyrate. A puff of smoke seemed to come from her big rock ‘n’ roll hairdo.
The audience gasped, and a band member called out in an English accent, “Fanny! Oh, no!!! Someone call an ambulance!”
Zo looked to Claire.
“I’m already dialing…”
TEN
Claire and Zo could barely sleep. Their bedroom doors were double locked. Although the police said it must have been a freak accident as to how Fanny was electrocuted, it was still the most horrible incident they had ever witnessed. And it gave them chills all night.
All of the guests but the one in room ten checked out for the night. Zo and Claire were unaware as to who he was or why he was still there when all the others headed for the hills. The name in the guest book just said, “Dick.”
“Mom, more than the death and the ghost-sighting from yesterday, the fact that Dick is still here creeps me out.”
“I know what you mean. Maybe we should bang on his door and kick him out.”
“Maybe he passed out from drinking or something,” Claire suggested, “and slept through it all.”
“Could be…”
Moonlight filtered through the partly open curtains onto their sleepy silhouettes. “Maybe this house is cursed,” Claire suggested after a while. “Maybe that’s why the Fillmores abandoned it in such haste. Maybe that’s why it was a secret for so long and all these crazy things have happened.”
“I know. But don’t worry, darling, we are safe for tonight at least.”
“Mom, I have never heard you so sure of yourself.”
“Well, having a colt .45 under my bed can do wonders.”
“Oh, wow, Mom. I won’t argue that,” she said. “You know what else we should do is call an exterminator to get into the attic and kill the rodents. The skittering around throughout the night could drive any normal person mad.”
“I’m with you on that one, dear.”
*
The next morning, the sun was bright and full, casting its radiance through all the windows, lighting all the dark corners of the house. They waited for Dick to exit his room and check out. Zo was very impatient.
“Mom, check out time isn’t until eleven. We can wait just a couple more hours.”
“Yes, I suppose. Let’s go play a game of pool, because I don’t know how to play billiards.”
They went upstairs to play and pass the time. Claire won continuously.
“That’s because you know geometry, my dear. I never was good at math,” Zo determined.
The billiards table was right center in the library. A couple chairs sat alone in the corner. The library was the tallest of all of the rooms and circular.
“This is the perfect place to contemplate,” Claire said. “I’m sure Mr. Fillmore had many deep moments in this room.”
“Yes, I’m sure.” Zo was concentrating on precisely aiming her cue.
Time passed until the large clock hanging above the library’s door rang eleven times.
“Time to meet Dick,” Zo announced.
They went downstairs to the second floor, and down the long, narrow hall of the east wing, to the very last door on the right, the tenth door.
Bang, bang, bang! Zo pounded. “Eleven o’clock. Check out time!”
No one answered.
“Wake up. Check out time!” Zo hollered.
Still silence.
“What should we do?” Claire was perplexed.
“Let’s open the door.”
“You’re sure?”
“Sure, I’m sure.” She pulled a little key ring out from her pocket and proceeded to unlock the door.
Claire turned on the light. “There’s nobody here.”
“Nobody here?” Zo said.
“Did they leave without checking out?”
“Well, that would be quite odd,” Zo said, looking around the perfectly tidy room—not a wrinkle on the bedspread, not a footp
rint on the vacuumed throw rug. “Would such a guest take time to clean up after himself? There’s no sign of a life ever even entering here.”
“That is wacky,” Claire agreed. “But I guess we shouldn’t think too hard about it. With the guests that were here last night, he could have just checked in, partied in the ballroom all night and when Fanny (excuse the terms) fell on her fanny, got spooked out, and took off without saying good-bye.”
“Well, what about returning his key? Because all keys are signed out.”
They went to the registry to see if they had missed something. No key signed out and no key to return. “Well, that’s it. He didn’t show up. End of mystery,” said Zo.
*
They prepared a salad and scooped some cottage cheese out of a container from one of the refrigerators. Claire opened the lacey curtain to allow more light in. “Looks like a nice day out.”
“Yes, it does,” Zo agreed. “Sink and ye shall find.”
“What brings that up?”
“It has wandered in and out of my mind. How could we sink the Venus Moon?”
Claire answered, “Ummmm… throw the painting into the bath tub?”
“It would be a shame to destroy that beautiful oil painting. Maybe there was a Venus Moon and she sank, and if we could just find the record of where she was believed to go down… There might have been lots of gold aboard.”
“That would take more research than I have strength and time, and I know you don’t know where to even begin on something like that, Mom.”
“Just the same, we’ll spend some time going through some of old man Fillmore’s files and paperwork. We were able to find so much out about the family, just by reading Loretta Fillmore’s diaries.”
“You know, we still haven’t looked into that outbuilding on the property because it was locked, and you didn’t want to cut or break the lock, Mom.”
“It is my belief that everything about this property has historical value to it. Even that lock and hinge.”
“Well, look at what I found this morning as I was re-exploring Fillmore’s bedroom!” Claire burst in excitement. “Do you think any will fit? Some of them are quite large.”
“Keys! Great! This might be better than shopping. I was feeling a little depressed after last night’s death.”