Pretty Baby

by Pretty Baby (NCP) (lit)

  When he arrived, he crept around to the back and furtively glimpsed into the screen door of the kitchen. He could feel the blessed warmth, and smell the delicious food that wafted through the open door. The white-clad workers seemed busy and otherwise occupied as he gently opened the screen door, praying that it wouldn’t groan with a rusty squeak. Luck seemed to be with him as he sneaked in and rushed soundlessly toward the rear stairs. Taking his time, he carefully crept up each step, trying to make no sound as he climbed.

  When he knew he was out of earshot, he began running down the hall until he found his room. He noisily burst through, then slammed it shut. As if he’d traveled a long distance, he leaned against the door, closed his eyes, and took several deep breaths. When his heart had slowed, he began stripping and hurried to the shower. Turning on the water, he stepped in, and with a frenzy began scouring his body. While standing with his face turned upward toward the prickling spray, things seemed to come into focus. He had decided that it was all a dream and he’d been walking in his sleep. It was stress. The captain was right, he needed this rest to clear out his head.

  He emerged from the shower feeling better and went to the phone to order some breakfast. Before Room Service answered, he put the phone back down, deciding to go down to the dining room. He hadn’t been there since he’d come to the inn and was anxious to start looking around to see what the place had to offer. Looking at his camera, he figured he might as well go ahead and get the few shots he’d taken developed as well. There was some unusual and beautiful sights around here, and he’d taken shots of all of them. The sunrise, the bones on the beach, and even a few shots of the front of the inn and the grounds. It wasn’t a lot, but he knew the guys would get a kick out of seeing them, especially the bones and the shot he took of a cute girl adjusting her stockings when she thought no one was looking.

  He glanced quickly at his watch, spent a few minutes drying his hair, then chose a black outfit that he was partial to. When he was dressed, he looked at himself in the full-length mirror. He could almost see his father standing there instead of him. Like Shadoe, he was partial to trousers instead of jeans, and wore western boots instead of Adidas. Even though he was darker in color than his father, he could see a lot of his father in his face, the way he dressed, even in his mannerisms. But Shadoe’s real individuality came from his Native American heritage. It showed up in his long dark hair, the jade jewel beneath his eye, and a silver string earring that threaded through his pierced ear and dangled on each side. He flipped it, gave his jacket a slight adjustment, then turned, exiting his room a lot slower than he had entered it.

  He stood at the door of the dining room, waiting to be seated, looking over the red and white decor. While standing there, the swinging door to the kitchen opened and his eyes sharpened when he saw Julita pouring coffee. Just then the maitre d' and walked up to him.

  “One for breakfast, sir?”

  Shadoe was still staring at the kitchen door that swung in and out frequently, giving him rare glimpses of her. “Uh … yes....” he murmured, “only one.”

  “Would you come this way, please?”

  Still looking toward the door, Shadoe followed the man to a table. As soon as he took his seat, a waitress walked up.

  “Ready to order?” she said with a sparkling, early morning smile.

  He looked up at her, then glanced again at the swinging door to the kitchen. Just then he saw the masked face look up at him, but all too soon the door swung shut.

  She stood waiting for his order, then turned to see what he was looking at.

  “Say … uh … I’d like to speak to someone in the kitchen.”

  “You mean the chef?” She pointed at the menu. “If you prefer low-cal, or kosher, we have a section for that on the menu.”

  “Oh … no … it’s not that. I’d like to see … well … a young lady.”

  “Oh,” she said, looking down at him knowingly. She slid a quick glance at the door, then back at him, and said, “They’re all pretty busy, but I guess I can get her for you. Who is it you’d like to talk to?”

  “The little urchin … you know … I believe her name is Julita. She’s the girl in the mask. Could you get her for me?”

  “Oh....” she began as if sorry to give him bad news. “I’m sorry, sir, but she’s not allowed to mingle with the guests.”

  “Why?” Shadow said, surprised. “Has she got a disease or something?”

  “Well … it’s her appearance. She’s … well … I’m sorry, sir I can’t talk about it. Mr. Van Dare, the owner....”

  Shadoe put his hand up to stop her. “What has a dead man got to do with whether she speaks to me or not?”

  “Dead? Mr. Van Dare? No....”

  “No?” Shadoe’s interest perked up. “I was told he was dead!”

  “Sir, Mr. Van Dare is not dead, he occupies a room right here in the inn.”

  It was owned by my father, but he’s … well, he’s … dead, so I run things.

  “If you’re not ready to order I can come back later.”

  He didn’t answer, just lowered his head as if he were looking at the menu, but not reading it. Where would the old man be if he wasn’t dead? Why had she lied? He turned back to the waitress. “Do you know where he is … the old man, I mean?”

  “I don’t know which room he’s in if that’s what you mean. No one is allowed in there. She takes care of him herself.” She saw his disappointment. “I … I’m sorry I can’t help you, sir.”

  Without ordering, Shadoe threw the menu down, then jumped up and rushed away.

  “Sir! Do you want....” She looked at his departing figure, then shrugged and cleared the table.

  Shadoe ran out of the dining room looking around for some clue as to where to look. Then his eyes anchored on the front desk and the register that lay open. If he could get a look at it, he could make a note of the empty rooms and try those first. As he approached the desk, his eyes darted around, looking for onlookers. Laying his hands on the register, he slowly turned it toward him and ran his finger down the row of room numbers. He could see at a glance that every room was occupied. But if they were, where was the old man?

  Just then Lucretia rounded a corner and saw him. “What do you think you’re doing?” she barked.

  Startled, he turned and saw her rushing toward him. “I was checking to see if a friend of mine had arrived yet. I’m sorry if I’ve broken some rule.”

  “Mr. Madison, you’re already walking on thin ice around here, and I’d advise you to ask the next time you want to know something.”

  “Yes, you’re absolutely right. It’s just that since there was no one here....”

  “That gives you no right to search through things that are none of your business.”

  Treading thin ice was exactly right, Shadoe thought. But something was driving him, and he had to find out where the old man was. “By the way, how long did you say your father had been dead?”

  “I’m through answering questions that obviously have nothing to do with the writing of your article, Mr. Madison. You may write about the comfort and quality of this inn, but anything beyond that is off limits to you.”

  Ignoring her outburst, he pressed her, his words brittle and short. “Someone said he was occupying a room here. Is that true?”

  Lucretia looked at him and pursed her thin lips. “So that’s what you were looking for. Well, for your information, Mr. Madison, his ‘room’ is out on a well shaded hill beneath a huge oak.”

  “Oh, and where is that? I was thinking about the history of this old place and found a brochure in the Hall of History. It doesn’t mention where he was buried, in fact it doesn’t even mention the fact of his death.” His steady gaze met hers and held it. “I have to get the facts straight, you see. Authenticity, that’s the secret of a good article … book … whatever you’re writing.”

  “You are an arrogant bastard, Mr. Madison, and I am a busy woman … too busy to be involved in one of your so-calle
d interviews.” She spat the last word out as if it were dirt in her mouth.

  “I see. Well, thank you anyway. I’ll just interview the little … uh … Julita I think was the name you gave me, right? By the way, where will I find her?”

  Lucretia’s face darkened, and Shadoe could feel an icy chill coming from her that was almost physical. “I told you once, and I’ll tell you again. Julita is not available to you for anything.”

  “Anything?” Shadoe repeated, wondering why that sounded like a loaded word when she said it. Lifting his hands he began counting effortlessly on is fingers. “The father’s not available….” He looked at her and forced a small laugh. “Dead men rarely are … if they are … uh … dead. The daughter’s not available, and your attitude, if you don’t mind my saying so, Ms. Van Dare, is downright hostile. Now, I ask you. How am I to get my story if I can’t talk to anyone?” He took the edge of the register and pushed it, spinning it around on the turntable. “Well,” he said, watching her bewildered eyes follow the spinning register. “I guess I’ll just have to rely on my own resources. Which, by the way, is what I was doing when you came up and caught me.”

  Lucretia looked up at him, wanting to wipe that arrogant look off his face.

  “Now, Ms. Van Dare, I know you’re busy. It must be rough running an inn that brings in the business that this one does, but if I can’t get my story any other way, then don’t be surprised at what turns up in that article.” His smile became as brittle as hers, and his eyes as chilly. “Just a warning.”

  Just then the phone rang, and Lucretia was quickly distracted. Shadoe turned, a satisfied smile played on his lips. He was proud of himself. He knew she wasn’t about to talk, but so far he’d been able to keep her wedged between a rock and a hard place. She couldn’t throw him out because of a possible bad review, but having him there was like having a boil on your backside. Very uncomfortable.

  Turning, he decided to order breakfast in his room, so he pushed himself away from the counter and strode toward the stairs. As his foot barely touched the first step of the wide staircase, his eyes just happened to fall on a door nestled beneath the stairway that looked to be hidden by a large stretch of rose-covered lattice. He stopped abruptly and leaned around the towering light fixture at the end of the curling balustrade. The door was so obscure that he had almost missed it, which he figured was the intent of the strategically placed lattice. He glanced back over at the front desk and Lucretia was turned away while talking on the phone. Taking advantage of the situation, Shadoe crept around the side of the stairs and walked over as quietly as he could to the door. What the hell was behind it, he asked himself. It must be the cellar Lucretia had told him about a few days ago. But if it was a part of the inn that was used frequently, why was this lattice hiding it? He knew the answer. She was hiding something down there. But what? His thoughts went back to the night before when he had seen her coming out of the dining room with an ax. My God, could it be a graveyard? Bones scattered everywhere? Shadoe knew his curiosity wouldn’t rest until he knew. He naturally assumed she kept it locked, but when he reached out for it, to his surprise it turned with ease, swinging inward with hardly a push. All at once a strong desire to see what was down there rose up in him, and he hated to close the door. But it would have to be later when no one was around … when the shadows of the inn stretched wide and long, hiding him within their darkness. But what about now? How was he going to get out of here? His eyes darted furtively toward the counter and saw Lucretia’s head buried in some paperwork. The friggin’ witch would be at the counter. She was never around when he needed her, but let him be trapped in a corner, behind a piece of lattice, and she took root like one of her magnolias.

  Just then he saw Julita come out of the dining room and approach Lucretia. She moved as if she were frightened, hardly able to speak because of her fear. No wonder she acted the way she did, he thought. She was frightened to death of her sister. Afraid to move, even to speak. No wonder she was afraid of him … of anyone. Lucretia had practically broken her spirit, making her almost unable to speak. Watching them together, he was getting a clearer picture of the relationship between these two sisters. One cowering and frightened, the other, a bitter, hateful witch that ruled this plush little roost with an iron hand.

  The drone of voices began, then became louder. His head jerked when he heard a slap and saw Julita reel. Her mask fell to the floor, and the girl quickly lowered herself and hurriedly put it back on.

  “Get up to your room! Now!” Lucretia yelled.

  “Please,” Julita pleaded.

  From what Shadoe could gather from parts of their conversation, the waitress he’d talked to had told Julita he was looking for her. Apparently she was asking for permission to talk to him. But naturally Lucretia refused with a slap and a host of four-letter words he hadn’t heard since arresting a john for pimping along the docks.

  To hell with the witch, Shadoe thought. If they wanted to see each other, she wasn’t going to stop it. And then he reminded himself of what she had said about him walking on thin ice. He could almost hear the cracking of that ice right now. Later that night, Shadoe heard a gentle tapping on his door. When he opened it he saw Julita standing there, her eyes darting around the corridor as if afraid Lucretia would see her. Reaching out, he quickly pulled her in, then stuck his head out and looked around. When he came back in, she grabbed him, burying her face in his chest.

  “It’s okay,” he said, “you’re safe. No one saw you.”

  “I… I w-was afraid you wouldn’t be here.”

  “Come on, let’s get this off,” he said, and she automatically recoiled at his touch. “What’s the matter?” When she didn’t answer, he said, “Julita, I know what’s under the mask.”

  She was still silent.

  “Remember the Hall of History?” Still receiving no response, he dropped his hands from the mask. “Okay, you take it off whenever you feel comfortable.” His eyes angled toward her, as he continued. “But keep in mind that I can’t kiss you through it.”

  He watched while her hand slowly caught the edge and pulled it over her head.

  He smiled. “That’s better. Now, come here.”

  When she walked into his arms and smiled, his heart did a summersault. “Oh, Julita,” he whispered, his voice becoming husky, “you’re bad for me, you know that? I could get lost in those violet eyes and never be seen again.”

  “You’re teasing me,” she whispered timidly.

  “I wouldn’t do that, he said, reaching down and lifting her chin for a kiss, but she interrupted him.

  “No yet. I’ve got a surprise for you,” she said gleefully.

  His eyes widened. “You do?” He looked down at a bag she was carrying. “Show me.”

  She pulled the bag forward, reached inside, and lifted out some lipstick.

  Shadoe laughed. “Sorry, but I don’t wear lipstick.

  “Silly,” she said, then began smoothing it on her lips. When her lips were as red as they could get, she looked up at him and pursed her lips. “Do I look better?”

  Her lips, full and dewy tempted him with or without lipstick. “You look beautiful,” he said tenderly.

  Throwing it down, she ran to the bed, crawled in, then turned to him. It was all Shadoe could do to keep standing. “Julita, what the hell are you doing?” he asked, looking at the little eighteen-year-old nymph offering herself to him.

  “Can I stay here tonight?” she whispered. “I don’t take up much room.”

  “And what if Lucretia comes looking for you?” Her eyes became temptingly slumberous, her dark, sooty lashes fanning her cheek. “Julita, we’ve talked about this. If I had my way of course you could stay, but we have to be sensible.”

  She slowly lifted her lids when he sat down on the side of the bed. She reached out and stroked his chest. “You haven’t kissed me.”

  Shadoe’s lips lifted in a lop-sided smile. “No, I haven’t, have I?” He leaned toward her, lifting her innocen
t face, looking at her lush lips with too much lipstick on them and turned her chin and pecked her on the cheek.

  “No,” she said, quickly, then pointed to her bold mouth. “Here,” she whispered. “Kiss me here.”

  “But I’ll get lipstick all over me.”

  “So what?” she mumbled, grabbing his head and pulling his lips down to hers.

  When he pulled back she saw the lipstick all over him and began laughing.

  He looked at his reflection in the mirror and saw the bloody smear. “You little monster,” he said, reaching down and smearing her lipstick all over her face.

  The two of them laughed and fought playfully, their faces covered with the reddest lipstick money could buy. But as the fight continued, it slowly turned to passion, Shadoe’s mouth making a trail of Kiss’s Red Fatale along her neck, her breasts, and even on her ears.

  But as willing as she was, he refused to take her innocence and eventually sent her back to her room. He ended up taking a cold shower, the lipstick reminding him of blood, and the mystery of Scarlet Bay Inn left unsolved. Thinking of where it might lead him, the glowing lipstick seemed to taunt him.

  God, he hated the sight of blood … especially his own!

  CHAPTER NINE

  “Where were you last night?” Lucretia growled at Julita, then hit her hard, knocking her down on the floor of her room. “You weren’t in here. I came and found you gone!”

  “I…I g-got hungry,” Julita said defensively. “I was d-down in the kitchen looking for something to eat.” Julita was proud of her lie. It came out smoother than she expected. It seemed that knowing Shadoe … being with him gave her courage. She wanted to be with him forever. But she knew he would eventually leave. Everyone did. But he couldn’t … not without her. If he left she would die!