Pretty Baby

by Pretty Baby (NCP) (lit)

  “Oh, I see. You were trying to dry it out before I saw it, right?” She leered down at him. “And you make fun of me! Well, dream on you old bastard because your fucking days are over.”

  Shadoe was shocked at Lucretia’s crude language. It seemed to trip over her tongue easily, as much at home in someone’s mouth as he had ever heard. And the sound of her voice seemed strange as it dug deep into her throat and came out a snarl. Either she had two different personalities, or hated her father to such an extent that it wasn’t possible for her to speak to him in a civil tone as she did her guests, or even her help. He’d heard her on several occasions when she spat out orders. Even the times she’d turned her anger on him her tone of voice wasn’t the same.

  Suddenly the sheet was swept up, leaving Shadoe exposed, but Lucretia never turned her eyes upon him, she simply laid the sheet over her arms and stalked out the door.

  The minute the door closed, the two men’s eyes met.

  “Welcome,” Garret said. “What the hell kept you?”

  Shadoe chuckled, then shrugged. “Sorry, I got here as fast as I could.” Seconds later, his eyes fell to the mess on the floor. He scowled at the fruit salad that was shriveled with age.

  “My God, she expected you to eat that?”

  “Are you kidding?” the old man said, jerking his wheelchair around. “That’s one of her good meals.”

  Shadoe brought his eyes back up to the man. “How long have you been living down here?”

  “Living?” Garret snorted, putting a cigarette in his mouth. “I wouldn’t exactly call it living, but it’s been fifteen years … and counting.”

  “She’s been taking care of you for fifteen years?”

  “Taking care of me? Hell, man, you get funnier and funnier. She’s been torturing me for fifteen years. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing still alive.” He looked down at the cigarette, reflecting for a moment, then lifted it slightly as if inviting Shadoe to look at it. “I keep sucking on these things hoping they’ll kill me, but no. I just keep on breathing, day in and day out.” His mouth twisted into a shrewd smile. “It’s the only reason Lucretia buys them for me. She’s hoping I’ll die of lung cancer.” He scowled at Shadoe through the thick smoke. “Do you know I haven’t seen the sun, felt a raindrop, or enjoyed a breeze that hasn’t been filled with that sickening magnolia muck in years?” Garret leaned conspiratorially toward Shadoe. “Know what I do for fun?”

  Shadow was afraid to ask.

  “I sit here day in and day out, in the dark, fantasizing about how to kill her.” He sat back, his discerning eyes watching for Shadoe’s reaction. Then with a dark, scowling smile, he said, “It’s better than sex.”

  “Hell,” Shadoe said, “I can top that. I’ve had fantasies of that sort, and I’ve only known her a little while.”

  Lifting the cigarette to his mouth and drawing the smoke into his lungs, he said, “Believe me, if the day ever comes that I do get to strangle that bitch, it’ll be the best day I ever live. Maybe I’ll let you watch.”

  Shadoe liked the old man. Even in his weakened state he was funny, and angry enough to stay alive for a long time to come. “By the way, my name is Shadoe… Shadoe Madison.”

  “I’m Garret Van Dare.”

  A slow smile spread across Shadoe’s face. “No, you’re not just Garret Van Dare … you’re the Garret Van Dare.”

  “Well,” the old man began, flicking his ashes on the floor. “I’m the only Garret Van Dare that I know. If that earns me a the in front of my name, then I guess I’m him.”

  “You know for a long time I … hell the whole world thought you were dead.”

  “I am … so to speak. I just haven’t had the sense to lie down yet.”

  “Your disappearance caused a big splash in the news. They were saying all kinds of things. You lost your mind and wandered off somewhere. You were abducted by aliens. One religious nut said you’d been raptured.”

  Garret looked at Shadoe, his usual scowl twisting into a smile. “That’s the world for you.”

  “Just to let you know, I’m an undercover cop with NYPD. I’m supposed to be on vacation, but since I’ve been here I’ve seen some pretty strange things. I’ve decided to stay and try to find out what the hell’s going on. How does that set with you? You willing to help me if I help you?”

  “Welcome to my hell,” Garret said, lifting his eyes and his weak arms, indicating the small, smelly space.

  Shadoe just sat there staring. He couldn’t believe he had solved the strangest case of all time. The mysterious disappearance of Garret Van Dare. Even beneath the thin face, the pallor, and the lines, he recognized him, and could discern the handsome, powerful man he had been. “My God, at one time you must have been worth millions.”

  “Still am. Say, I don’t want to break up this little tête-à-tête, but how hard would it be for you to get me something to eat?”

  “Oh, God,” Shadoe said, jumping up, anxious to please the old man. “I’m sorry. What … what do you want? Anything special?”

  “I’ll eat anything that doesn’t eat me first. Tell you what, a sandwich … a roast beef sandwich.” Then the old man frowned. “Hell, you’d never be able to get into the kitchen now, it’s....”

  “I can order you something … bring it down.” He looked at the old man. “Is there another way down here other than the door under the stairs?”

  “None that I know of, unless you count the dumbwaiter.” He pointed to the two small doors in the wall with rusty handles.

  Shadoe rushed over and opened it. He saw a rope and a flat wooden board. “My God, this thing is older than my grandmother.” He stuck his head in and looked upward. “Where does it lead?” He looked at the old man and smiled sheepishly. “Stupid question. The kitchen, right?”

  “The kitchen’s just overhead. God, the smells that come out of that place.”

  “Yeah, I can imagine. That must be hard on you.”

  “Hell, I’m surprised I’m still in my right mind.”

  Shadoe turned and looked toward the door. “Well, it’s for sure I can’t go that way. That witch is always at the front desk.”

  Garret looked at his watch. “Just about now breakfast is being served in the dining room. Only the chef and his assistant will be in the kitchen, and he’ll have his back to you. It’s a chance in a million, but you may be able to make it.”

  Shadoe looked inside the hole, then down at himself. “I don’t know, is it big enough?” He looked over at Garret. “What do you think? I’m pretty big, I don’t know if I would ever get my legs curled up in there.”

  “I don’t know, but it’s either that, or taking your chances on the stairs.”

  Trying to make a decision, Shadoe looked pensive for a moment, then began looking around for something to stand on. “Hell, I’ll try anything once.” He pulled a rickety wooden box over and climbed up on it. Using the rope inside as his leverage, he pulled himself up and managed to just barely fit himself inside.

  “Got it?” the old man asked, hopefully.

  “I think so.” He shifted a little. “I don’t think I could manage this if it weren't so old. If they still have these things around today, they’re probably not quite so roomy. You know how the world is,” he said, smiling from within the hole. “Smaller, sleeker, more compact.”

  “Good luck,” Garret said.

  Shadoe saluted. “Be back as quick as I can.”

  The shadows of early morning fell across Garret’s face while he watched Shadoe pull himself up into the narrow shaft of the dumbwaiter. Knowing he was at last rescued, his first thoughts didn’t anticipate seeing the sun, feeling cool breezes, or enjoying soft raindrops, his first thoughts went to Lucretia, his oldest daughter. Where, he wondered, would be a good place to bury her?

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  While Shadoe was very subtly emerging from the dumbwaiter, Lucretia stood at the front desk staring at the screen of lattice that stood in front of the alcove. Something was w
rong. It looked as if the screen had been moved. Who could have been back there? None of the guests would have reason to go back there, in fact guests and employees alike had become completely indifferent to the little touches of decoration that enhanced the beauty of the foyer. It could be no one but the cleaning crew. They must have moved the screen when they cleaned the floor and simply forgot to put it back. But still, she had to be sure. She looked down at the phone, picked up the receiver and buzzed the kitchen. “Send Hank to the front desk.”

  A ruddy-faced, red-haired teen looked toward the swinging doors leading into the dining area. Seeing Hank cleaning off tables, the teen went over, hung out the door and yelled, “Vampira wants to see you. Front desk, pronto.”

  “Hey,” Hank said, indicating to the door. “She’ll hear you, creep! Keep your voice down.”

  “Who cares?” Roy said, bravely while thumbing toward the front desk. “The old witch wants you. Better move it.”

  Turning back around, Hank mumbled, “Shit. What the hell have I done now?”

  In only a matter of seconds Lucretia looked up and saw the young man hurrying in from the dining room, a cleaning rag in his hand.

  “Have you cleaned the foyer today?”

  “Not me, but I put one of our new people on it,” he said, looking around as if she’d found dirt somewhere.

  “The lattice screen,” she said, “What about that?”

  He looked confused as he looked around. “Which one? I told him to dust between the squares, and....”

  “That one,” she said, pointing.

  The young man hurried over and stroked the white wood carefully, seeing no dirt. “Yeah, it’s clean.”

  “That’s not what I mean. It’s been moved. I told you not to move it … never to move it.”

  “I’m sorry Ms. Van Dare … he’s new … he didn’t know….”

  Lucretia breathed a sigh of relief. “It’s all right. Just make sure you tell him. If I find it moved again, I’ll fire you both.”

  “Yes ma’am,” he said, backing away, “I’ll be sure and tell him.” Hardly believing his good luck, he rushed back to the kitchen and began dicing some vegetables. While his eyes darted around the room he whispered out the side of his mouth to another worker. “You won’t believe what I just saw.”

  “Yeah?” she said. “What?”

  “The old witch. She just turned into a human being.”

  “You’re nuts,” the girl said, then walked away, and opened the refrigerator.

  “Hey, I ain’t lyin’!” he said, following her. This time she just threatened to fire Mark and me, not cut us up in little pieces.”

  “Well, don’t count on it lasting too long,” she said, grabbing something, then going back to the counter. “Crazy people have mood swings, you know. She must’ve had a good dose of blood for breakfast.”

  He snickered, then said, “Yeah.” When he heard the board buzz and light up, he reached over and pressed the room number and mumbled, “Room Service.” He nodded as if the party on the other end could hear him. “Yes sir, right away, sir.” He looked over at the chef. “Room twenty-four wants a picnic basket packed. Roast beef sandwiches, chicken, potato salad, the works.”

  “Comin’ up!” the chef called out. Then with a pair of kitchen knives in each hand he struck the glittering blades together like the professional he was, and began slicing, dicing, and calling out orders over his shoulder. Within minutes a basket was packed, and on its way to room twenty-four.

  Shadoe heard the knock and turned quickly to answer the door. “Hey, great!” he said, digging in his pocket for a tip, then extending the bills. “Good service, thanks a lot.”

  “Kind of breezy out there,” the smiling young man said, as he took the money. “Not much of a day for a picnic.”

  Shadoe was about to say something, but the young man interrupted. “Hey, if you’re interested, I know a spot. Down on the beach on the other side of the bones. It’s a little cavelike thing. Good place to take a girl….” He winked. “Special girl, ya know? You’ll be out of the wind at least.”

  Shadoe smiled. “Well, thanks … uh … what’s you name?”

  “Hank ... Hank Swanson.”

  “Thanks, Hank, I might just check it out.”

  “Can’t go wrong,” he said, backing up. He lifted his hand with the money in it and said, “Hey, thanks.”

  “You bet,” Shadoe replied, watching as Hank headed for the back stairs. When he stepped back into his suite, he looked down at the large basket and wondered how he was going to get it downstairs.

  Shadoe pictured the basement in his mind, and knew there had to be another way to get down there. He knew houses, even those as big as this one. It would be against some code if there wasn’t another way out of that basement. There would be windows, high maybe, and difficult to get to, but they had to be there. That was one of the things he noticed about the section of basement where the old man was. No windows. He occupied only a small part the basement, though. They probably started on the other side of the arched door, then extended all around the mansion. He felt a chill. As big as this mansion was, there must be a maze down there that any vampire in town could make himself at home in. He wondered where the door was. If it was in the part of the basement where the old man was, then it would be on the north side, probably in the part where the furniture, boxes, and wine racks were. Just then a bright idea came to him and he quickly pulled the door back open, and yelled down the hall. “Hank!”

  The young man had already gone halfway down the back stairs, but stopped when he heard his name. Turning, he quickly skipped back up and looked around. “Yes sir!” he said with a big smile, running down the dimly lit hall to Shadoe’s room.

  “Hank,” Shadoe said, thoughtfully, “I’m doing an article about the inn, and....”

  The boy smiled widely. “No foolin’?”

  “I’d pay for any information you could give me about the place. I’ve already taken some photographs, and now I need to fill in the story with some information.”

  “Yeah, ask me anything. I know about this old place. Been workin’ here since I was sixteen. Part-time at first ‘till I finish school.”

  “What about college?”

  Hank shrugged. “I don’t know. You don’t have to go to college to be a chef, do you?”

  “A chef, huh?”

  Hank smiled. “Yeah. Otto’s teaching me all he knows. Then when I get the money, I’ll shoot on up to Savannah to their cooking school there.” He smiled, looking excited. “I’ll make a little money with what I learn there. Then soon as I can I’ll shoot on over to Paris. I hear they have some terrific cooking schools. I should learn a lot. Man, I can hardly wait. Hope to own my own restaurant someday.”

  “Well, that’s great,” Shadoe said. “A French chef. Sounds good. I wish you luck.”

  “Thanks,” Hank said. Then his face turned inquisitive. “You had a question ... something I can help you with?”

  Shadoe hesitated, a frown appearing on his face. “Hank … the basement … how do you get down there? I mean, there must be more than one way.”

  “Why would you wanna go down there?”

  “Oh, don’t get me wrong. I don’t want to go down there, I just want to make sure there is more than one entrance into it. If there’s not, it could be a fire hazard you know.”

  Hank smiled mischievously. “Lookin’ for ways to report the old bat, huh? Well, don’t bother. There’s a set of concrete steps behind a door under the stairway that she doesn’t think we know about. Then there’s a door on the north side of the inn. Leads right in there.”

  Yes! Shadoe thought. He was right. He dug into his pocket and pulled out a bill. “Thanks, Hank.”

  The boy looked down at the ten spot and his eyes widened. “Hey, thanks,” he said, then pushed it down into his jeans pocket. “Hey, anything else you wanna know, just ask. Like I said, I been here a long time, and I know where the bodies are buried.”

  The joki
ng words made a chill creep along Shadoe’s spine. The boy apparently didn’t know how close he had come to the truth, but Shadoe managed a responsive smile to his words and waved as he walked away.

  Just as he’d suspected, Shadoe thought, while swinging a jacket across his shoulders and pushing his arms into it. He quickly grabbed up the basket and opened his door. He looked out to make sure no one was around, then caught himself. Jeez, what the hell am I being so careful about? I have perfect right to go on a picnic if I want. Been sneakin’ around too long, I guess. Comes kind of natural. He wondered why the old man hadn’t told him about the door. Apparently he didn’t know, Shadoe thought as he walked. Otherwise he might have managed someway to get out. Maybe he was wheelchair-bound, but he had the guts of a warrior, which filled Shadoe with respect when he thought of him.

  After strolling down the steps, he boldly walked to the front door. Just as he reached for the knob, he heard Lucretia’s voice.

  “A picnic? Today? A bit cool, don’t you think?”

  “No, not at all. I like brisk weather. Besides, a very lovely weather girl said it would warm up later. I thought I’d take a walk in the woods. You know, make a day of it. Still looking for that waterfall,” he said, lifting up his camera as it swung from around his neck.

  The moment he said it, her smile fell. “Yes, the waterfall.”

  Shadoe knew what she was thinking, and turned to duck out before she decided to say anything else. Taking a quick glance at the lattice screen that hid the alcove, he hesitated, noticing that someone had moved it a little to the right to cover the door. He cut his eyes toward her, and wondered. Apparently she wasn’t suspicious.

  She looked up, and saw him lingering in the doorway. “Something else?”

  “Oh … no … just wondering if I’d forgotten anything.”

  “It’s getting a little chilly, do you mind closing the door?”

  “Oh, sure,” he said. “Well, later.”

  She ignored him as if he’d said nothing, quickly turning to the phone when it rang.

  He closed the door softly, then walked as if he were heading for the woods until he was on the other side of the inn. When he turned he didn’t see the door Hank had mentioned and felt a flash of worry. It must be in the back, he thought, then skirted around the cars, SUVs, trucks, even motorcycles until he saw the welcome sight of some steps leading down. It seemed very unobtrusive. Six steps were built next to the house with an iron rail around them, and the top of the door had four small panes that had been painted over.