Audrey and Reg stood close to me. They didn’t like this place any more than I did.
What the hell have you brought us here for?” Reg whispered, looking furtively to right and left. “What are we going to do?”
“We’re going to look at the register,” I said, pointing to the attendant’s white lodge that stood back from the gates. “I want to see who’s been buried lately.”
“What a guy for ideas!” Reg sighed. “Couldn’t you have done that during the day? Why pick on midnight?”
“Use your head,” I said shortly. “If I had done that I’d have told the killer the game was up.”
Audrey stared at me. “You really think you’re going to find something?” she asked.
“Unless I’ve got it all wrong,” I returned, “I’m going to find the missing girls tonight.”
Reg drew a deep breath. “I’m scared,” he said, in a small voice. “I suppose no one thought of bringing some liquor?”
“There’s a half pint flask in the car,” Audrey said. “I’ll get it.”
We all had a drink, but it didn’t help much. Thunder rumbled.
It sounded nearer; and lightning lit up the graveyard with faint yellow flashes.
“Let’s get it over,” I said, and walked down the lane towards the lodge.
I had to break a window before I could get in. Audrey and Reg climbed in after me. After a few minutes’ search I came upon a leather-bound book.
“This is it,” I said, putting the book on the table. “Hold the light, Reg, so I can see.”
In the bright white beam of the flashlight, with thunder crackling overhead and Audrey and Reg jostling against me, I opened the register at the last page and began to read. The evidence was there for anyone who knew the facts.
There had been only two burials during the past ten weeks, but on a page headed ‘Private Crypts’ was the damning evidence:
CRYPT No. 12
Harry MacClay
Mary Warren
Edward Cook
Sheila Ross
Gwen Hurst
“What the hell does it mean?” Reg whispered, staring at the names blankly.
“Know any of these people?” I asked, looking first at him and then at Audrey.
They both shook their heads.
“Don’t you see how it was done?” I said. “These names have been faked to fool the graveyard attendant. Come on, we’re going to take a look at Crypt Twelve.”
Audrey’s sudden scream was drowned by a violent crash of thunder. She clutched at me, making my heart jump wildly.
“Someone was looking through the window,” she said, fearfully. “I saw a face . . . pressed against the glass.”
I pushed her to one side and ran to the window. It was now as dark as the inside of a closet. I put my head out of the window and listened, but apart from the wind moaning in the trees I could hear nothing. Then all sound was blotted out again by another crashing clap of thunder.
I turned back into the room. “Are you sure you saw someone?” I asked.
Audrey shivered. “It looked like a face. I only caught a glimpse of it, but it did really look like someone was watching us.”
Reg’s face had gone the colour of a fish’s belly. “Let’s get outa here,” he said unevenly. “I don’t like this one bit.”
“Not before we’ve seen Crypt Twelve,” I said obstinately. “The key must be around here some place.”
The other two stood a little helplessly, glancing fearfully from time to time at the window while I searched for the key. I found it eventually with a number of others hanging on a board behind the door.
“Here it is,” I said, checking the number burnt on a big wooden tag. “Let’s go.”
“I hate going out into that darkness,” Reg said, nervously looking out of the window.
“You can stay right here if you want to,” I said, sliding my leg over the sill, “but I’m going to look at that crypt.”
“We’ll come with you,” Audrey said hastily. “I couldn’t stand being left here alone.”
With the beam of the flashlight to show us the way, I went on ahead, the others behind me. I had no idea where Crypt Twelve was located, but I was going to find it.
We had walked some way before we came to the first crypt. That was numbered 7. There seemed no system or plan in the numbers. The next crypt we came to was 23 and the next one was 15.
A sudden zigzag of brilliant lightning made us all duck, but the thunder was seconds behind the flash. Then it came with a tremendous clap that sent Audrey staggering against me.
“Oh, I don’t like this!” she wailed, clinging to me.
“Hitch up your girdle,” I said, giving her a quick hug, “we’ve got to go through with it.”
On we went, across new grass, circling tombstones, along cinder paths, down grassy inclines, trampling over flowerbeds and ploughing across freshly dug earth.
It was a nightmare journey; looking for a needle stuck in a wall in a dark room. All the time thunder drummed a muffled march for the dead.
Then suddenly we found it. We found it just when I was going to give up.
We were all tired, hot and frightened. Out of the blackness suddenly caught a glimpse of something white: There before me was large marble crypt fenced in by iron railings. The beam of my flashlight picked out the number—12.
“For God’s sake,” I said. “Here we are.”
A long, jagged streak of lightning lit up the graveyard for one blinding second. I could see Audrey and Reg near me, their faces white and their eyes wide.
To the right of me was the white crypt and beyond, some fifty paces away, was Elmer Hench.
I saw all this in the one brief brilliant second and then we were in black darkness again. Instinctively, I had my gun in my fist.
“Wait,” I shouted to Reg, and ran forward.
I cursed the feebleness of the flashlight beam. It was like a pinprick in a strip of black velvet held against a light.
There was no sign of Elmer Hench, but I knew he was there. I had seen him, tall, bony and frightening, like a lost spirit risen from a rave to rebuke us for intruding.
Sweat, cold and clammy, plastered my shirt to my back. I was really scared.
This was a fear that dried my mouth, chilled my blood and turned my legs to water.
It was useless to try to find him. He might be anywhere. He might be behind me, in front of me or at my side. He might even have an away.
I turned back and reached Reg and Audrey, who were standing by the crypt, stiff with alarm,
“What are you playing at?” Reg said, his teeth chattering.
“Hench is in the graveyard,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “I saw him.”
Reg stared into the darkness. “That ghoul!” he gasped. “Well, let’s get outa here. I’ve had enough.”
I shoved my gun into his hand. “We’re going into the crypt,” I said, “and you’re seeing that Hench doesn’t disturb us. That’s your job.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever make a detective,” he returned, his voice quavering. “I think I’ll resign.”
I wasn’t listening to him. With shaking fingers I shoved the key in the lock on the iron gate and turned it. With Audrey at my heels, I ached the door of the crypt. Using the same key, I unlocked the massive marble door and pushed. It opened slowly and together we walked down two steps into the vault. The cloying odour of dead flowers and the smell of death came to us.
Audrey put a cold hand in mine. “I’m so frightened,” she said.
“Shush!” I whispered, listening.
Thunder crashed over our heads, died away and then rumbled in the distance.
I could hear Audrey breathing near me. The fan shaped beam of the flashlight travelled around the square room. I could see shelves and on each shelf was a coffin. I counted five of them.
“Where’s Reg?” I asked, not moving, but staring at
the coffins in a fever of excitement and nerves,
“At the door,” Audrey said, her voice high-pitched and unnatural.
“Take it easy, kid,” I said, putting my hand on her arm. “We’ll be out of here in a moment.” I turned back to the door, where I could see Reg staring tensely into the darkness. “Keep your eyes skinned, Reg,” I whispered. “If you see anything you don’t like, shoot.”
“For the love of Mike, get a jerk into it,” he pleaded. “I’m losing stones this way.”
I knew how he felt. I was feeling the same way myself. The idea of Elmer Hench waiting out there in the darkness made me jumpy. I wouldn’t have minded so much if I could have seen him, but the darkness and the thunder and Elmer Hench were a little too much.
I gave Audrey my flashlight. “Just stay where you are and hold the light so I can see,” I said. “I am going to open up one of these coffins.”
I heard her catch her breath. “No . . . don’t!” she said. “Marc . . . please . . .that’s horrible! You can’t do that.”
I took from my hip pocket a long thin screwdriver I had brought from the car. “I have to do it, honey,” I said. “There’s no other way around it.”
I left her and went over to the broad shelf opposite me. On it rested two mahogany coffins. Their silver handles gleamed in the bright beam of the flashlight.
As I tried to read what was engraved on the small brass plate screwed on the top of the coffin the light began to bob up and down.
I turned and looked back at Audrey. She had gone very white and I thought she was going to faint. I sprang across to her and put my arm around her.
“Gee, I’m sorry,” I said, gently. “I shouldn’t have brought you here. Look, go and stand near Reg.”
She shook her head. “I’m all right,” she said, clinging to me. “It’s just the air in here, and—and I’m scared. I’ll sit down, I’ll be all right in a moment.”
I took the flashlight from her and sat her down near the door on the bottom marble step.
“What’s going on?” Reg asked, his voice unsteady.
“You watch out for Hench,” I said. “Never mind what’s going on here.”
“I’m watching,” he returned. “It’s as black as coal out here and even the lightning’s stopped. I wish to hell you’d get through with this business. I want to go home.”
“Can you stick with it for five minutes?” I said to Audrey. “I shan’t be longer than that.”
“Of course,” she said, but she was looking so white she scared me.
Taking the flashlight, I went back to the coffins again. I was scared myself, but if I wanted to crack this case I had to go through with the business.
I read the plate on the first coffin. It simply said: Harry MacClay. 1900-1945. I began the gruesome task of unscrewing the coffin-lid. My hands were slippery with sweat and unsteady with fear. The screwdriver kept slipping out of the groove in the screw and once it slipped so badly it scored a long cut across the polished surface of the coffin. Thunder rumbled in the distance. That, the creaking of the screws as they came out and my heavy breathing were the only sounds in the damp, musty-smelling vault.
At last I had got all the screws out and I stood back, almost too scared to go further. The beam of the flashlight lit up one side of the vault and threw my shadow across the face of the wall. I put the screwdriver down on the shelf and wiped my hands with my handkerchief.
Audrey said in a low voice: “What is it?”
I glanced back at her. She stood up and moved a few steps forward, then she stopped.
“It’s all right,” I said. “I’m nearly through.”
Then I put my hands on the coffin-lid and raised it.
As I did so a vivid zigzag of lightning lit up the vault. For one brief second I saw the frightened, grotesque face of Marian French staring up at me from the coffin and then Audrey screamed.
Dropping the coffin-lid, I spun round.
Audrey was crouching back, her hands to her face. I looked beyond her to the door. Reg was clawing desperately at his throat. Even as I stood staring at him, unable to move, he suddenly seemed to be drawn into the darkness, and a moment later the heavy vault door closed with a thud. As the thunder died away, I heard the key creak and then the lock snapped into its stone socket.
chapter eight
It was a full minute before I realized how completely trapped we were. In that time I had darted to the door and flung myself against it. It was solid stone and I simply bounced off it with a badly bruised shoulder. I ran round the square building with the flashlight, but there was no other exit. The floor was of stone with no possibility, without proper tools, of hacking it up.
I stood staring at Audrey, my face glistening in the now yellow beam of the flashlight, while she looked at me in horror.
“Did you see?” she gasped, running to me. “He’s killing Reg! You must do something . . . you must help him!”
I held her to me. “For God’s sake, Audrey,” I said, gripping her arms, “don’t lose your head. We can’t do a thing. Don’t you understand, kid, we’re buried alive!”
She stiffened and held on to me, but she didn’t say anything.
I waited a moment, then said: “What fools we were to come in here without telling anyone! He’s got us all right. What the hell are we going to do?”
Trying to steady her voice, Audrey said: “We’ll get out . . . it’s—it’s Reg . . . there was a rope around his neck . . .” She caught back a sob.
I hadn’t even my gun. Except for the flimsy screwdriver, I had nothing with which to tackle the door. Pushing Audrey gently aside, I examined the lock. I saw it was hopeless. A stick of dynamite wouldn’t shift it.
To make matters worse, the flashlight was failing. I snapped it off and we stood in the heavy darkness, listening, but the thick walls of the tomb cut off all outside sound.
The thick, cloying atmosphere, the darkness and the feel of death in the place stretched my nerves almost to breaking point.
“I’m not so scared now,” Audrey said suddenly out of the darkness. “Let’s sit down, Marc. I’m sure someone will get us out of this.”
I groped for her, touched her hand, and together we sat on the bottom step. I wished I felt as she did, but it was no use showing her how scared I was.
“So it was Hench, after all,” Audrey said, leaning against me. “We’ve just got to get out and make him pay for this.”
“I don’t think it was Hench. Why shouldn’t Ted have been there too? Know what I think? Hench is tied up with this but he isn’t the murderer. He’s the guy who’s been getting rid of the bodies, but I’ve a hunch he’s not the killer.” I put my arm around Audrey’s shoulders. “But this isn’t going to help us get out of here.”
“Don’t think about it,” Audrey said. I could feel a little shiver run through her. “We mustn’t think about it, or we’ll go crazy. I’ve often dreamed of being buried alive . . . haven’t you?”
“Now, shut up!” I said roughly. “That’s no way to talk. I wish this flashlight wasn’t going back on us.” I put it on again. The yellow feeble light was not reassuring. “Wait a second,” I said, and getting up I walked over to the coffin I had opened. I lifted the lid and made sure that it was Marian French and I hadn’t imagined it. She was there all right.
If I could only get out of this vault I could bust the case wide open. The silence in the tomb was overpowering and I began to find breathing difficult. In a few hours, I thought dismally, we’d both suffocate.
I went back to Audrey and again turned out the flashlight. “If we get out of here,” I said, slipping my arm around her again, “shall we get married?”
She rested her head on my shoulder. “Hmmm,” she said, “but, do you really want to get married?”
“To you . . . more than anything else,” I said, knowing it to be the truth.
“It’ll be something to tell our children, won’t it? I mean that you pr
oposed in a tomb.” Her voice was shaky, but she was trying hard to be flippant.
I kissed her. “We’ll get out all right,” I said, and as I spoke I felt a slight draught of wind against my face. I stiffened, then pulling her to her feet, I faced the door of the vault. “Not a sound,” I whispered, my lips against her ear. “The door’s opening.”
We stood like that for a few seconds, then pushing her behind me I snapped on the flashlight.
The vault door was opening and as the beam of the flashlight shone on it, it swung wide.
I braced myself, expecting to see Elmer Hench, coming to finish us off, but instead, Reg stood there, blinking in the yellow light.
“I’m quitting,” he said in a strangled voice. “Brother, this is the end!”
I sprang forward and grabbed him by his coat collar. “Reg!” I shouted, while Audrey, pushing me away, threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.
We were both all over him for a few seconds and then: “What happened?” I demanded, pulling him away from Audrey and shaking him.
“That’s right, spoil it all,” he said bitterly. “I was having a swell time. Can’t she kiss me just once more?”
“She can’t, you dope,” I said, delighted to see him again. “Hell! I thought you were dead.”
Reg looked over his shoulder into the darkness of the graveyard. “So did I,” he said, with a lot of feeling. “I would have been if those two had any guts.”
“Two?” I said sharply. “There were two?”
“Sure—Hench and someone else. Whoever it was with Hench did the rope trick. I was standing at the door keeping my eyes open when a sudden brilliant streak of lightning lit up the darkness. In that split second I saw Hench. He was standing a good fifty yards from me, but I could see him all right. I was going to yell to you when something fell over my head and before I could call out a cord had tightened around my throat and I was being dragged backwards—”
“I saw you,” I broke in. “It scared the pants off me.”
1945 - Blonde's Requiem Page 21