Janice’s voice returned. “The Post that Ethel was reading at the time of the attack was found on the floor near her body, exactly where you now see a later issue of the same magazine. The original Post stayed here in the parlor for many years while Maggie ran the tours. For the sake of preserving it, however, it has been moved to the Beast House Museum. The gown worn by Ethel is also on display at the museum. What you see here is an exact duplicate of the original, identical down to every rip and blood stain.
“This is the original figure of Ethel Hughes, created in wax by Mssr Claude Dubois in 1936. The work was commissioned by Maggie Kutch. When placing the order for this and the figures of the two boys that you’ll see upstairs, Maggie included photographs of the murder scenes, plus morgue photos of the corpses. She asked that the positions of the bodies, and all the injuries, be recreated with complete accuracy of detail.
“Generations of visitors from all over the world have stood where you are now standing and gazed down at this very replica of Ethel’s ravaged body. This mannequin has also been seen in several popular films of The Horror series, which were based—sometimes very loosely—on my books about Beast House.
“Before we go on to the next station, I’d like to point out that the information we’re presenting in this tour is based almost entirely on the tours given by Maggie Kutch from 1932 to 1979. Now, Maggie didn’t always tell the truth—far from it. She knew much more than she ever told. When I bought this place, I made the decision to stay with Maggie’s version for a couple of reasons. First, even though it’s full of lies, it is the authentic Beast House tour. I wanted to give you, and all our visitors, a taste of how it might’ve been, many years ago, to be guided through the house by the woman who created the attraction in the first place. Second, the actual truth about Beast House isn’t suitable for family entertainment. If you want to know the actual, true details of the history of Beast House, you’ll find it in my books or on the Midnight Tour.
“And now, a few more words from Maggie. When she’s finished, it’ll be time to turn off your recorders and proceed to Station Three at the top of the stairway.
“‘After the beast got done murdering Ethel,‘” Maggie said, “‘it went on a rampage around the room. It knocked over this bust of Caesar, breaking off his nose. See, there’s his nose on the mantle.”‘Owen spotted the nose. Though it was out of reach beyond the cordon, it looked dirty, as if it had been handled too often by people with grimy fingers. He was surprised that nobody had stolen it.
“‘The beast just run amok for a while, dashing some figurines in the fireplace, turning over chairs. See this rosewood pedestal table? The beast threw it out the bay window over there. Must’ve made a mighty loud noise, all that glass getting smashed to smithereens.
“‘I reckon the racket likely woke up everybody in the house. Lilly’s room was right above us. Maybe she got out of bed, and the beast heard her. It scooted out of here and went running for the stain.’”
Owen heard a click as Monica hit the Stop button of her player. His own player hissed quietly for a moment before he shut it off.
He and Monica had eased their way closer and closer to the cordon as those ahead of them finished listening and wandered off. Now, they stood at the rope.
Owen had been able to see Ethel all along, but this was as near to her as he could hope to get. Without stepping over the cordon.
He stared at her.
And tried to imagine her real. Tried, in his mind, to transform her like Pygmalion or Pinnochio into a human with soft, smooth skin.
But he couldn’t make it happen.
Too many distractions. The other people in the room, especially Monica. And how Ethel’s gown barely covered her.
Owen wished a breeze would come along and blow some of those tatters aside.
Instead of making Ethel turn real in his mind, he pictured himself climbing over the cordon, kneeling over her, and peeking underneath the loose shreds of her gown.
Get off it, he told himself. She’s a dummy.
Even so...
Monica nudged him with her elbow and whispered, “Let’s go, Owie.”
He followed her to the door. They stepped aside to make room for a couple of people trying to come in, then headed for the stairway.
Sharon, some distance away, was greeting new visitors. She had her back to Owen and Monica. Her blond hair hung down in a thick braid.
“That was certainly tacky,” Monica said.
“What was?”
“What do you think? Ethel. Good God. I didn’t know this was going to be a peepshow. No wonder you were so eager to come here.”
They started to climb the stairs.
“Nothing you couldn’t see on any beach,” Owen pointed out.
“In France, maybe.”
“Anyway, she’s just a dummy.”
“It’s pretty funny, they give all that lip service about keeping the dirty stuff out of the tour, then they show us something like that.”
“I didn’t think it was that bad.”
“You wouldn’t.”
At the top of the stairs, a sign on the wall read Station Three. “Here we go again,” Monica muttered, starting her player.
Owen thumbed down the Play button on his machine, and heard Janice’s voice.
“After finishing its brutal attack on Ethel, the beast ran out of the parlor and scurried up the stairs, leaving a trail of blood to mark his way. Ethel’s blood. Look down, and you’ll see stains on the floor. They’ve been copied from crime scene photos, and match the stains found on the hardwood floor the night of murder. Follow them to Lilly’s bedroom and listen to what Maggie had to say.”
Monica, head down, followed the red stains. Owen walked behind her. His tape hissed, wordless for the few seconds that it took to reach the doorway of a bedroom.
“‘We’re just above the parlor here,’” Maggie explained. “This is Lilly Thorn’s bedroom. That’s her on the bed.’”
He entered the room behind Monica.
Only a few tourists were here. They were scattered along the length of the cordon, so Owen had a fine view of the bed.
Sitting upright on it was the figure of a young woman dressed in a pink nightgown. Eyes wide, mouth agape, hand to her mouth, she looked to Owen like a star of the silent screen demonstrating terror.
“‘All that commotion from downstairs woke Lilly up,‘” Maggie continued. “‘She must’ve known something mighty awful was going on. Must’ve known she and her boys were in danger. But instead of running to save the kids, she climbed out of bed and shut her door. See that dressing table there? She dragged it over in front of the door so the intruder couldn’t barge in. Then she climbed out her window. It would’ve been a long fall to the ground, but there’s a bay window just below this one, and she dropped down on top of it. From there, it was an easy jump. She landed on her lawn and run away into the night.’
“Lilly made good her escape,” Janice said, her smooth voice replacing Maggie’s gruffness. “She escaped with her life, but not with her sanity. The wax figure that you see on the bed, done by Dubois, was based on a photograph that had been taken of Lilly at the time of her marriage to Lyle Thom, the outlaw, several years earlier. This nightgown is an exact replica of the one she...”
“And the original can be found at the Beast House Museum,” Monica said in a sing-song, mocking voice that interferred with whatever Janice was saying on Owen’s tape.
She pushed her Stop button.
Owen frowned at her.
He looked around. Though some people were entering the room, nobody stood nearby. Monica’s mimickry had probably disturbed nobody but Owen.
“Cut it out,” he whispered.
She flashed her teeth at him.
Owen stopped his machine. He studied it, found the Rewind button, and pressed it.
“You’re not going back?”
“Yeah, I am.”
“That was the end.”
“I wasn’t to the
end yet when you interrupted. You made me miss stuff.”
She rolled her eyes and muttered, “You’re kidding.”
Owen thumbed Play. Maggie said, “‘from downstairs woke Lilly up. She must’ve known something mighty awful was going on.’”
He’d rewound way too far.
As Maggie went on, he thought about hitting the fast-forward.
Don’t, he told himself. Just listen to it all again. So what if it takes a while? Monica can just wait. She should’ve kept her mouth shut.
He met her eyes.
She frowned.
“I rewound too far,” he explained.
“Good going.”
“This may take a minute.”
“Wonderful.”
“Shhhh. I’m trying to listen.”
“Cute move.”
“You don’t have to wait for me.”
“You can really be a pain sometimes, do you know that?”
“You’re going to make me miss stuff again. Then I’ll have to rewind.”
She clamped her lips shut and glared at him.
Owen wished she would leave. He wanted to concentrate on the tour without any distractions—especially without the negative distractions provided by Monica. She was ruining it for him.
His tape reached the part that he’d missed.
As Monica had already told him, the original nightgown worn by Lilly on the night of the attack was on display at the Beast House museum.
“You may now go down the hallway, and resume listening when you come to Station Four.”
He stopped the tape.
“All done?” Monica asked.
“Yep.”
“You’re sure you didn’t miss a single precious word?”
“I think that’ll do it.”
This time, he led the way. Though he walked slowly toward the door, he didn’t look back to make sure that Monica was staying with him. It made him feel rude, but he didn’t care.
If it offended her, good. For years, he’d been looking forward to Beast House. Now he was finally here, but Monica wouldn’t let him enjoy it.
Big mistake.
And she thinks I’m actually going to marry her?
When hell freezes over
He waited just inside the doorway while a family with three kids made their way into Lilly’s bedroom. Everyone in the family wore earphones. Even their girl, who appeared to be about eight years old.
It didn’t seem right, bringing a kid that age into a place like this.
People are so damn queer, he thought.
But what’s really the harm? If the kid ever lays her eyes on the TV news, she’ll see a lot worse than this.
When the door was clear, Owen moved into the hallway and stepped aside to avoid a man carrying an infant
The baby didn’t wear earphones. Owen smiled.
For just a moment, he pictured a kid of his own—but it was a girl and it looked like Monica.
No way, he thought.
My God, she could be pregnant right now for all I know! Who’s to say she isn’t? Condoms leak.
He wished he could simply close his eyes and make a wish and Monica would be gone...
“Oh, there’s nothing much to see up there, anyway. But the attic isn’t particularly safe. That’s why we don’t allow anyone up the stairs.”
Owen glanced at the person who was speaking.
A guide.
He started to look away.
She caught him looking and smiled.
He smiled back.
She turned her eyes away from him and resumed talking to a couple of teenagers who had stopped near the attic door. On the wall beside the doorway was a large number 7.
Owen kept moving.
He stared at her as he walked by.
Then he turned his head to look over his shoulder at her.
“Don’t break your neck,” Monica said.
“Huh?”
“God almighty.”
“Huh?” Facing Monica, he raised his eyebrows. “What’re you talking about?”
“You know damn well.”
“What?”
“That dumb blonde in the guide suit back there.”
Was I that obvious?
“What makes you think she’s dumb?” Owen asked, trying to sound amused.
“Just one look at her.”
“I wouldn’t know. I didn’t get that good of a look.”
“Sure you didn’t.”
“I was trying to see up the attic stairs,” he said.
“Uh-huh, sure. She’s not that hot, you know. If you ask me, she sort of looks like a horse.”
Yeah, a gorgeous thoroughbred.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I hardly saw her.”
He wished he’d had a better chance to see her.
She works here, he told himself. She’ll still be around when we come back this way. Station Seven.
She’ll probably be a big disappointment. Nobody can be that terrific. And even if she IS that terrific, I’d never stand a chance with her.
Guys like me don’t even exist...
“Where you going, Bozo?” Monica asked. “We just walked past Station Four.”
He stopped, looked over his shoulder, and saw the 4 painted on the wall of the hallway. “Ah,” he said. Then, trying to smile at Monica, he said, “Thanks.”
With a smug smile, she said, “I think you’d lose your head if it wasn’t attached.”
“Maybe.”
He pressed the Play button.
He expected Janice’s voice, but Maggie’s came on instead. “When the beast couldn’t get into Lilly’s room, it turned around and came prowling down the hall this way, looking for someone to kill. It sniffed its way along like a bloodhound.”
Owen glanced toward the attic door, but too many people were in the way and he couldn’t see the guide.
What if she’s gone?
Never mind, he told himself. Just ignore her and enjoy the tour.
Sure.
“It smelled Lilly’s kids,” Maggie was saying. “It tracked their scent all the way down the hall, and found them in their bedroom. This is it, right here. Come on in.”
While Owen waited for a man to step out, Maggie’s voice was silent. He imagined her leading a group of tourists into the room, making sure they were all inside before resuming her speech.
“Here we are,” she said.
Beyond the red cordon were twin, brass beds. The covers were thrown back and rumpled. The sheets were bright in the sunlight coming in through the windows, but spattered with dark stains.
The kids lay sprawled in the space between the beds. Their night-shirts had nearly been torn from their bodies. Shreds of the bloody fabric draped their buttocks.
“This is the bedroom where the children slept,” Maggie said. “But I ‘spect they were wide awake when the beast came after them. All the commotion was downstairs and way at the other end of the hall, but this ain’t a real big house. And it’s real quiet in the middle of the night. Noise carries. So they likely heard the beast slamming things around and pounding on their mama’s door and roaring out its rage. If they heard it, they were too scared to move. All they could do was hide under their covers, the way kids do, froze up with fear and hoping it was just a bad dream and maybe it’d go away. Only it wasn’t no dream, and it didn’t go nowhere. It come for them.
“Earl was ten years old,” Maggie said. “His brother, Sam, was only eight. They were both still in their beds when the beast got them. See the blood? They must’ve started off on their beds and ended up on the floor. Right there, that’s where their bodies got found.”
Maggie stopped talking. Owen expected Janice to come on. But a couple of seconds later, Maggie’s voice returned. She said, slowly and low, “Imagine how scared they must’ve been, those little fellers. They likely reckoned it was the boogeyman.
But I bet they figured everything’d turn out all right and they’d get saved at the last minute. Only they didn�
�t get saved. The beast got them.
“It didn’t kill them right away. That would’ve been a blessing. We can’t really know what all went on here, but there’s reports of town-folk hearing the screams of children in the night. Far-off screams that went on for good long time. Nobody could figure just where they were coming from, but afterwards, they knew. It was Lilly’s boys crying out in horror and agony while the beast tormented them.
“It’s said that Lilly heard their screams when she was running down Front Street, and that’s what unhinged her mind.”
The tape went silent again for a few moments. Then Janice came on and said in a solemn voice, “With the deaths of Lilly’s two sons, the rampage ended. The beast vanished, and its crimes were placed on the head of poor Gus Goucher. Nobody knew that there was a beast. Only Lilly, perhaps—and she had been reduced to manical babbling.
“Which may or may not have been faked.
“If your curiosity has been aroused, I suggest that you read my books and take advantage of the Midnight Tour. You’ll be surprised and maybe even shocked by what you learn.”
She paused for a moment or two, then started talking again. “After the attack on Lilly Thom’s family on that horrible night in 1903, the house was abandoned. Nobody lived here again for twenty-eight years. Then, in 1931, it was purchased by Joseph Kutch. He moved in with his wife, Maggie, and their three children. But they were in the house for only two weeks before the beast struck.
“You may now move on to Station Five. Turn right just outside the door, and go down the corridor until you come to the top of the stairway. There, you’ll hear Maggie begin to tell you about the night that the beast attacked her family.”
He clicked the Stop button.
Monica looked at him and raised her eyebrows. “Done?” she asked.
He nodded.
“Are you sure you don’t want to rewind? Maybe you missed a word or two.”
“It’s fine,” he said. He turned around and started across the room.
Already picturing the tall, beautiful guide.
Get a good look at her, this time.
When he reached the doorway, he stepped aside and gestured for Monica to precede him. “Ladies first,” he said.
The Midnight Tour Page 12