Pretty Baby

by Pretty Baby (NCP) (lit)

  Shadoe stopped and looked around, but didn’t see anyone. His eyes narrowed on the cars in the parking area, one by one. He’d been on a lot of stakeouts where he waited in cars all night and part of the day. Someone could hide out in a car and never be detected, especially at night. Most people didn’t think about it, only cops and criminals. He had been trained to look in car windows, and his eyes just naturally sought out anyone that might be sitting in one, hiding or not. The day was bright and breezy, and even though his eyes raked across the vehicles closely, he could tell at a glance that no one was around.

  Feeling completely alone, he approached the stairs and began to descend. He kept a lookout while trying to open the door, but it wouldn’t budge. It was locked. He looked down at the doorknob and saw a keyhole. “Damn!” he muttered, knowing at once that a key, somewhere, was needed to open it. But where was it? Could it be hidden? Lost? He looked around on the ground, then felt along the door frame above the door, but found nothing. He stood wondering if he should break in. He examined the lock, finding it rusty and antiquated. Apparently it hadn’t been used in years. In spite of the age, he knew he could do it, but it would be difficult. He decided he would make a brief search for the key first, but if he couldn’t find it, then he would force the lock.

  He put the picnic basket down and went up the steps, being thankful that the weather was cool and the sun wasn’t directly overhead. He could leave it there where it would be out of sight, snuggling in a cool shadow until he returned.

  He hoped it would be done with the key ... otherwise he could be suspended for breaking and entering when the showdown finally came.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  As soon as Shadoe opened the door of the inn, his eyes fell on Lucretia. He was disappointed to see her. He had been hoping he’d catch her away from the desk, but there she was, big as life, as usual, and even uglier than he remembered.

  Lucretia looked up, surprised to see Shadoe. “Picnic over already?” she asked.

  “Not quite,” he said. “I just thought of something I need to do.” He walked to the desk hesitantly, his mind racing as he spied the key rack behind her. His eyes followed the long board, until he came to the very end where a hook with two keys dangled. One well used, the other old and rusty. A word was inscribed above them … basement.

  “Something I can help you with?” she said, bringing both his thoughts and his eyes back to her.

  “You know the church I told you about?” he said, almost shyly.

  “Yes,” she said, while working.

  “You were right. It wasn’t there when I went back.” He laughed, trying to act embarrassed.

  She smiled, coming under his spell. “I knew it wouldn’t be. After all, I’ve lived here all my life, Mr. Madison. You should learn to listen to people.”

  “You’re right, of course. I guess I must have been dreaming.” How the hell was he going to get rid of her? Finally he said, “I came back to get a bottle of wine. Can’t have a picnic without a bottle of wine.”

  “The kitchen is closed, you’ll have to order it from Room Service.”

  “Yes I know,” he said, watching her closely. “You know, I hate to go all the way back up to my room. Could you do it for me since I’ll be taking it with me?”

  “I suppose,” she replied, laying her pen down and picking up the phone. “Any preferences?” she asked, angling her eyes up at him. “White, red?”

  “House wine will be fine … red if you have it,” he said, thinking of the roast beef.

  Waiting only a moment, she said, “Paula, bring a bottle of the red house wine to the front desk. Yes, thank you.” After hanging up the phone she reached for something, but couldn’t find it. She lifted papers, folders, then looked toward the door behind her.

  “Lose something?”

  “Yes … would you excuse me, I lost my glasses. I must have taken them off in the back room and laid them down. I won’t be a minute.”

  What a break, Shadoe thought. “Take your time. I’ll just step over here and wait for the wine.”

  He shuffled backward, but kept his eyes angled on her, ready to jump when she was out of sight. Instead she stopped and looked back at him suspiciously. “I can trust you to leave the register alone, can’t I?”

  Shadoe forced a laugh as if she’d made a joke, then lifted his hands. “I won’t touch a thing … promise.”

  The minute she was out of view he hurried over to the counter. Just as he was about to reach for the keys, a girl appeared around a corner carrying his wine, followed by Lucretia stepping out of the back room, carrying her glasses. What now? Shadoe thought. Then an idea came to him. “Say … uh … Paula,” he said, suddenly remembering her name. “Could you bring out two glasses and a corkscrew?”

  “Sure,” she said, then turned and disappeared around the corner.

  He was jumping inside, precious time passing while he waited for the girl to appear with the items he had requested. When she had, he quickly jumped at her, grabbing them from her hands and putting them on the desk with the wine. Then looking at Lucretia, he cleared his throat self-consciously. With the flair of a fine gentleman, he bowed slightly and said, “Ms. Van Dare, may I escort you to a table?”

  She looked up from what she was doing. “What?”

  “Please,” he said, indicating toward the dining room. “I’d like to speak with you for a moment. May I?”

  She frowned and angled a suspicious look at him. “What are you up to now, Mr. Madison?”

  He gave her a flirtatious smile. “I assure you my intentions are honorable.”

  “Why the dining room? Why can’t we talk here?”

  He frowned in distaste. “Too officious. For what I have in mind we need a social setting.”

  Not sure why she was humoring him, Lucretia came out from behind the desk slowly, watching him as if she didn’t trust him.

  He gently led her to the dining room, then to a table in the corner, making sure it was private, and obstructed her view of the desk.

  He pulled her chair out and she became watchful. As she slowly sat down, she said, “I almost expected you to pull it out from under me.”

  “Ms. Van Da--” His words stopped abruptly, his face softened, and he flashed her his most charming smile. “Lucretia,” he continued, his words a sexy whisper as he took her hand in his. “What a beautiful name.”

  “Mr. Madison, what...?”

  “Shadoe,” he said, “please call me Shadoe.”

  “Is this some kind of joke?” she asked, looking at him in total disbelief, then narrowed her eyes. “Just what are you up to? This isn’t your way of getting an interview out of me is it?”

  “As a matter of fact....” Unexpectedly, he stopped his flow of words and looked around. “It seems I’ve forgotten something.” He jumped up as if anxious to get on with romancing the witch and hurried to the counter. He glanced up at the basement keys, turned his head and looked back to make sure she wasn’t watching. With a quick hand he grabbed them and slipped them in his pocket. Not wasting a minute, he made one giant swoop and grabbed up the wine, glasses, and corkscrew and hurried back to the table. Placing everything on the table in front of him, he made a big deal of opening the wine, poured two glasses, then sat opposite her and made a little speech. “I’d like to make a toast to you, Lucretia, and to the success you’ve made of this place.” His eyes traveled over the structure, then returned to her and tried to look apologetic. “I know I’ve given you a hard time, even tried to find something wrong with the inn, but I’ve been unsuccessful. It really is a four-star establishment, and I just want to say I’m sorry for the way I’ve acted. From here on in I’m just going to enjoy myself and give the inn a top-notch review. What do you think about that?”

  “Well … you didn’t have to do all this, I....”

  “No, no, I’ve been a royal pain, I know, and I just wanted to bury the hatchet.” Bad choice of words, he thought, remembering what he’d seen in the foyer the other ni
ght.

  “Yes, you have,” she agreed. “But … well, your apology is accepted. Now, I really must get back to the desk.”

  “But we haven’t had that toast yet.”

  To indulge him, she lifted the glass to her lips.

  “No, no,” he said, “first we clink the glasses.” He lifted his glass toward her.

  “I thought we already did that.”

  “No, not yet. I know, let’s do it like they do in the movies.”

  “Whatever you say,” Lucretia said, and watched him as he made the toast.

  “To this first-rate establishment, and its very charming owner,” he said, then winked. Somehow it seemed like an intimate gesture, and when their eyes met, he had to force himself not to turn away, sick to his stomach. All he needed now, he thought, was for this witch to fall in love with him. When she just sat there staring at him, he said, “The toast has been made so now we clink and drink.” When she still didn’t move, he said, “Go ahead … you know … the way they do it in the movies.”

  “Oh … yes,” she said, coming out of her reverie. She moved her glass close to his, and they touched, clinking softly in the hushed atmosphere of the dining room. While watching him sip his wine, she carefully put the rim of the glass against the crimson line of her snakelike lips and opened slightly. She drank one short sip, then put it down. “There,” she said, her midnight eyes still holding his captive, “how was that? Okay?”

  “Just like Joan Crawford,” he said, almost spewing his own wine when he made the comparison. Mommie Dearest was a pussy cat next to this witch. He looked down at his watch. “Hey, I didn’t realize it was so late. I guess I’d better get going.” He jumped up and pulled out her chair, and helped her around the table.

  “Well,” she began, sorry their little rendezvous had to come to an end, “enjoy your picnic.”

  “Thanks,” he said as he slipped through the dining room door, praying that she wouldn’t notice that the basement keys were missing.

  Again he hurried toward the path in the woods until he was around the side of the mansion and out of sight. Doubling back, he skirted the cars once again, his cop training still in overdrive as he found himself staring into the dark interior of the car windows. He hurried down the short flight of steps, his basket still waiting for him. He thought of ruined roast beef and again gave thanks that the weather was almost cold, and that the chilly little shadow had kept the basket as cool as any refrigerator. Drawing the keys out of his pocket quickly, he tried first one, then the other, finally feeling the doorknob give way.

  But he was immediately faced with another problem.

  Something was jammed tight against the door. He pushed as hard as he could, but it moved only a fraction of an inch. He turned to push with his back, heaving and shoving and breathing heavily as he scowled, strained and grunted, but the door had only moved a few more inches. He stopped for a moment and looked at the tiny opening, then down at himself. Knowing this was a battle he couldn’t lose, he took a deep breath and tried again, this time trying to force his slim frame through sideways. It took a while, but once he worked his way in between the door and the frame, it gave him leverage, and he managed to push the door open a little wider, getting the picnic basket through. Once he was in, he got busy restacking the boxes in another spot away from the door, giving him a hasty entrance and exit from the basement. Exactly what he needed.

  The windows overhead allowed for just enough light to let him see that this side of the basement was filled with broken furniture, boxes, trunks, and old appliances. But at least he was in. He coughed, inhaling dust, and fighting cobwebs as he set the basket aside and began making a pathway for himself to get to the old man. When he’d almost made his way through, he could see him napping in his chair. But something wasn’t right … he was too still. His breathing … my God, he couldn’t tell if the old man was breathing or not. Coming closer, a shot of fear traveled up his spine.

  The old man was dead … he knew it.

  Rushing over to him, he began to shake him. “Garret, Garret!” He wasn’t responding. Oh, God, he wasn’t responding! He immediately put two sensitive fingers on his pulse and felt only the slightest response. He looked around wildly, wondering what to do when he spotted the sink. He rushed over to the sink and wet a ragged old washcloth, then brought it back and began hurriedly stroking it along his face and neck. “Garret,” he yelled, “Garret, wake up … you’ve got to wake up!”

  Slowly the old man began moving, his heavy lids fighting to open.

  “What the hell is it, Garret? Are you okay?”

  “Thank God you’re here,” he managed to barely rasp out. Then with lids that were still heavy, he tried to pull his shirtsleeve up to show Shadoe his arm. Shadoe reached over and pulled it up. He found a pin prick and it was bruised. The old witch had used a hypodermic on him.

  “She’s trying to kill me,” he whispered, his speech slurred. “I’m not dying soon enough for her, she’s trying to kill me.”

  “What did she give you? Do you know?”

  “S-sedative, I think. She came down right after you ... after you left.”

  “Hell, she must’ve given you enough to make an elephant sleep for a year.” He pulled at the old man’s collar, shaking him. “You’ve got to fight it off.” The old man was limp, hardly any life in him at all. Desperate, Shadoe reached out and grabbed the basket and put it on his lap in front of him.

  He pushed it away. “I can’t eat … appetite gone.”

  “You’re going to eat you old bastard, now sit up and chow down.” Shadoe wrestled with him, slapping his cheeks, and trying to force his lids open. “Has she done this to you before?”

  “No … leave me alone … want to sleep.”

  Shadoe knew the effects of a sedative. All you want to do is sleep, your appetite becoming a thing of the past. She wouldn’t give him enough to kill him, just keep him so drugged up that he’d lie down here and eventually starve to death. He reached into the basket and pulled out a roast beef sandwich. Without unwrapping it, he waved it under his nose. “Wake up, I’ve got food for you.” It didn’t seem to help, so Shadoe began pleading with him while he continued to wipe him down. “Garret,” he said, his voice almost a whisper. “Don’t let that witch win. Eat so you can get enough strength to fight back.” He finally grabbed the bottle of wine he had shared with Lucretia and turned it over and forced it down the old man’s throat. He gurgled, the wine overflowing his mouth and dripping down his chin to his hollowed chest. “Where does she keep these drugs, do you know?”

  “I don’t know,” he said, trying to keep his eyes open, “her room, I suppose.”

  “Which one is it?” When the old man didn’t answer right away, Shadoe shook him. “Garret, stay awake. Which room?”

  “Room tw-twenty-nine … near the … attic.”

  The attic, Shadoe thought, then wondered, did she give Julita drugs as well?

  When the old man began to get a good taste of the wine, he suddenly grabbed the bottle from Shadoe and began drinking, the ruby liquid streaming down his chin like blood.

  “Hey, watch it. Don’t drink too much. At least not without food to buffer it ... at least that’s what I’ve heard. I wish to hell I’d brought some coffee. I’ve got beer, though. Think you could get some of that down?”

  “Beer? You have beer?”

  “Hell, yes, I’ve got beer,” Shadow said, becoming excited that the old man seemed to be waking up. Just wait ‘till you see all the goodies I’ve got for you.”

  “F-food” the old man muttered. “Give me s-some food.”

  Shadoe dug down into the basket, pulled out the roast beef sandwich he’d waved under his nose earlier, and gave it to him.

  The old man grabbed it and began eating.

  “Hey!” Shadoe yelled, half laughing. “Take the wrapper off. It’ll taste better that way.” He reached up and pulled the shredded paper out of the old man’s mouth, then off the sandwich and let him go at it
. The old man almost growled with pleasure as he ate. “You know, you’d better take it easy at first. Too much might make you sick. You’re stomach’s not used to it.”

  “Don’t worry about me. How about opening up one of those beers?”

  “Sure,” Shadoe said, then settled back with a chicken leg and watched the old man guzzle down three bottles along with cheese, wine, potato salad, and a few pieces of chicken. It did his heart good to see the old man eat, but laughed when all at once he fell back and moaned. “Hey, I have no sympathy for you. I told you.”

  The old man didn’t reply, just looked at Shadoe, and said, “Thanks. I haven’t had a full stomach in years. By the way, how’d you get down here?”

  Shadoe lunged forward. “Oh, my God, I forgot to tell you. Do you know there’s a door back there?” He pointed past the wall that partitioned off the two sides of the basement.

  “Sure, I know about it, but it’s been sealed up, or something.”

  “No, it hasn’t been sealed, just locked with a load of boxes and furniture piled against it.”

  “Are you saying you got in through that damned door? How’d you do it?”

  “I stole the key,” he said, “then managed to push a few things out of the way. The best part is, I don’t have to use the friggin’ stairs anymore, or the dumbwaiter.”

  “Do you think you could make a path wide enough for me to get out?”

  “I’ve already started. But just outside the door is about six steps. You’d never get up unless someone helped you.”

  “Hey, that’s what you’re here for.”

  “You got it, pops,” he said, and winked.