“Me?” I asked. My thoughts flooded with penetrating memories combined with head-splitting fear. “Yes, I have a Corrine. Mint condition. She’s a peach!” Corrine Masterson, I thought. How could I have been so blind?
“Darryl and his dithers,” she continued, shaking her head as one would over a funny anecdote. “He has shown devotion to three things in his life, when there has only been room for one.” She held up delicate fingers to emphasize the numbers. “Boys should be dedicated to their mothers. Not football. Not whores. He was mine in the beginning, and mine at the end.”
My head pulsated. “I’m finally ready to trade the Rose. You’re going to love her. She’s lovely. All original parts. And I have another doll I want to show you, too. This one’s very special.” Mamma Rose and me. The moment filled me with wild desperation, much like I felt out at sea. But, unlike the ocean, I could get out of here, and I needed to – fast.
“We knew he was involved with someone. Didn’t we, Paisley Lynn? But, unlike that club whore, he dug deep and spewed out some kind of affection for you. How on earth did he manage that?” She shook her head again and smiled. Mavis leaned into the doll again. I seized the opportunity. I jumped up, pushed the table over against her, sending the entire tea service and Paisley Lynn crashing to the floor. I skirted around the mess and Mavis.
But, Mavis was faster than I thought, snatching up at me. She grabbed a huge wad of my hair and yanked me back. I screamed. Pain cascaded across my head.
“I’m not done with you yet, you bitch!” she screeched.
I elbowed her in the nose as hard as I could, and she let go. I skedaddled through the doll room and into the kitchen. In my hurry, I knocked into a couple of dolls perched on the end of the shelf. They tumbled off the shelves and dropped to the floor. Mavis cried out, and went directly to the dolls’ aide. I fled to the kitchen and into the first door I came to.
Darkness. I felt a bolt at the top of the door and swiftly slid it across. I heard Mavis storm into the kitchen.
BANG!BANG!BANG!
“Come out!” she ordered. I took a step away from the door and nearly fell. I grabbed the doorknob to steady myself. Stairs.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
“Can’t hide in there forever,” Mavis warned.
My heart thundered in my chest. My hands slid over the walls in a desperate search for light.
“I can’t wait to slit your throat, you whore!” Mavis screamed. “No mistakes this time! I’m going to enjoy your hot blood dripping on my hands!”
I pulled my phone out of my pocket. Its soft light lit up the top of a set of wood stairs. Basement. Frustrated and fearful tears flooded my eyes.
“Sam?” my voice trembled.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
A scream involuntarily leapt out of me. The vibrations of her pounding rippled through the door, the wall, and the floorboards.
“Delilah, what’s wrong?”
“Sam, I’m in trouble,” I cried. I moved down a step to get away from the banging, and then another. “I’m locked in-” The phone cut off. Shaking, I held the phone up to my face. This time, it wasn’t the battery (Sam had charged it) or the minutes. I’d lost the signal. Maybe on the top step, I could retrieve it again.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
“There’s nowhere to go, sweetie,” Mavis cooed from the other side of the door. She pounded louder. She was hitting the door with something hard. The bangs rattled me, sending me further down the steps. Do not go gentle into that dark night. I took another step down and another. No window. No light. No escape. My heartbeat was racing so fast that it was just like one steady sound. Look for weapons, I thought.
Footsteps, loud ones. They moved across the kitchen.
“Take care of the vehicle and the mutt,” Mavis told someone. “Quickly.”
“Ms. Duffy, olly-olly-oxen-free!” she sang to me. “You came all the way to Tipee for Darryl. Let me send you along to meet him.”
Tears raced down my cheeks as I reached the bottom. I felt along concrete walls. No light switches. My head banged into something hanging. I screamed. The snakes from the store awnings popped into my mind, though I knew it couldn’t be snakes. There was fabric. Hand shaking, I felt for the object, hoping it was a cord of a light.
It was a doll.
I held my phone up and prompted the screen. In the blackness, a half dozen porcelain dolls were hanging from nooses. I stepped back, mouth gaping. My heart seized. The walls seemed to close in, like swells encircling me, ready to swallow me up.
Breathe. Think.
I reminded myself that Sam knew where I’d be going today. It wouldn’t take him long to find me. Bellybutton to the sky, Bean. Just relax.
BANG! BANG! BANG! Pounds erupted on the door again.
You don’t need me. You’re the toughest person I’ve ever met.
Think.
I quickened my search, and found the string of a light in the center of the room. I pulled it on. Hanging dolls decorated the room. Broken dolls littered the tables. One doll’s head was in a vise. Others had been smashed against the concrete wall. I scurried around the room, looking for something that would help me.
I spied another door and rushed to it. Locks braced the outside of it, but it was undone. I pulled it open to find a small cubby of a room. A chair, blanket, and bucket filled a corner. A bottle of bleach and a sponge sat on the floor. Along the wall, lines had been marked and crossed out by five’s. I fell back. Horrific ideas circulated in my head of what evil could have happened here.
Two boys chasing snakes in the backyard, trying to make pets out of anything, two boys, maybe one at a time, locked in this room. I felt sick, and sad, and desperate.
“We’re coming for you!” Mavis shouted. I grabbed the bucket and bottle of bleach and fled to the stairs.
Get ready… You’re the toughest person I’ve ever met.
“He was always such a fool,” she went on. “If only he could have been like his brother, loyal and responsible. I devoted myself to them. They were obligated to do the same for me, for all of us, and we were growing. New ones were arriving every day. Why’d he have to go and mess it all up?” I could hear her pouting though the door like a spoiled child.
“Well, spare the rod,” she said in a sigh. “I’m glad you stopped by so we could have this little chat. I planned on calling on you soon and this just saves me so much trouble.”
I stood, ready, at the top of the stairs. I unlocked one lock silently. I found my voice. “Darryl was mine,” I lied, breathing heavy. “You’re right about that, but you’re wrong about something else.”
“Oh, enlighten me, darling,” she prodded condescendingly. I gripped the bucket, filled with all I had of bleach. I quietly turned the knob. I swung the door open.
“He was never yours!” I yelled. A liter of bleach splashed into Mavis’ surprised face, sending her shrieking and flailing. I pushed by her and raced toward the front door.
Chapter Seventy-Six
Sirens
I bolted outside, right into the gigantic arms of Lenny Jackson, the Mr. Clean prevention specialist from Via’s. He hooked my waist, lifting me off the ground and preventing my escape.
“No use fightin’ me. I could snap your neck like a twig.” The sternness of his voice assured me that it was true. He was amazingly strong. He bent my arm behind me, sending sharp pains up my shoulder and back. Mavis’ screams and coughs echoed outside. The bleach smell had followed me out, and emanated off my hands and irritated my eyes.
“Ah, what’s that smell?” Lenny asked. “What the hell is goin’ on?”
“M-Mavis needs your help,” I told him, voice cracking.
“Nice try,” he returned, bending my arm a little more. I screamed.
“Let me go!” I yelled at him. “How could you do this!”
He leaned in to my ear, smiling devilishly. “Best gig I ever had, ‘cept that Mavis ain’t let me be the one to toss you in the drink. She wanted to do that herself.” I crin
ged. My shoulders sagged, both because he was pulling so hard on one of my arms, and because the hope that had fluttered as I made my escape from the house, dwindled again. Lenny pulled me toward the door.
He gave me a smoky chuckle. “Bet she wants to do it right this time. Just stick you like I suggested in the first place.”
Sirens are named after the Sirens of Greek mythology. When invented, these devices could create sound even under water, like their namesakes, who could do the same thing. This is really the only thing the two have in common, seeing as how Sirens lead sailors to their demise, and the other mean, at least to the most desperate of people (like me), that help is coming.
Sirens. I heard them like church bells.
To Lenny, the sirens he heard had a much different meaning. He peeked his head in the door to see Mavis, but kept his body outside, unsure what to do. I could hear him wondering if the sirens were meant for us. They sang closer. Lenny pulled me tighter to him.
“Mavis? You okay?” he called out to her through the door. Nothing.
“She’s burning,” I told him. “I threw a gallon of bleach in her face. She’s going to die if you don’t help her.” Lenny’s face lit up, bright red. His eyes glared.
“You vicious bitch!” He twisted my arm back further.
SNAP! I screamed.
Two Dodge Chargers raced around the corner, with their patriotic Christmas lights flashing, and gunned it to the end of the block. Lenny Jackson froze. Four officers descended on the lawn, guns drawn, and yelling commands.
But, I only saw one. With my eyes clouding with tears, I focused on his. Eyes like the sky, and right now, they told me to be calm and patient.
Be ready… You’re the toughest person I’ve ever met.
Lenny pulled me closer, grabbing both my arms in one hand, so that I could be his shield. His other hand reached for my neck, and held it like one would steady a fishing pole. The horror dug into me, causing my heart to hammer my chest, tears to scurry out of my eyes, and every piece of me to hurt, as if revolting.
The officers ordered him to let me go. A frantic discussion ensued. The only ones who were quiet were me and Teague. The more Lenny spoke, the tighter he squeezed. My head, arm and shoulder seared with pain. I could barely stand.
Teague’s eyes fluctuated calmly between Lenny and me, his black gun raised and ready, left finger twitching. How long would this go on? The more seconds that passed by the stranger the situation escalated, like the timer on a bomb drawing nearer to the end of the countdown. Lenny pulled me toward the door.
“Back off!” Lenny yelled in my ear. “We’re going inside!”
“Hold it, Jackson! Don’t move!” Williams shouted back. Teague leaned slightly, whispered to his partner. It looked like “I got him.” Fear surged in me like a tsunami. Teague’s eyes squinted.
Two shots. Quicker than a breath.
The two bursts happened so fast that they were almost one sound, and they were deafening. The first screamed by my right ear, and buried itself into Lenny’s shoulder. He released my neck. The second breezed by my left leg, capping his left knee. Down he went, like a house of cards falling over in a brisk wind. Lenny was on the ground writhing in pain before the echo of the shots stopped sounding. I toppled next, three parts shock, pain, and relief.
Shouting ensued. The officers approached. Guns aimed.
An explosion broke through the advancement, busting the front door into pieces and sending the officers back against the lawn. A shotgun had been fired. I screamed and covered my head with the arm I could move. Teague ducked, rushed to me, gun ready.
“It’s Mavis! She’s the killer!” Teague grabbed my side, and pulled me up, watching the doorway for movement. He dragged me to the left of the house to the driveway. Officer Williams yelled for her to drop her weapon and exit the house.
A shotgun cocked. Teague pushed me back. He raised his gun toward the smashed door. A barrel appeared.
“She can’t see,” I called out. “I threw bleach in her-”
A shot rang out. Then another.
Mavis dropped with a thud before her feet crossed over the threshold. Officers rushed upon her and Lenny, still curled up in pain. Mavis was dead.
Chapter Seventy-Seven
Sea Devil
The Black Sea Devil is a deep-sea anglerfish that preys in the Atlantic Ocean. There is little remarkable about it, but the female earns the diabolical name. Unlike their male counterparts, the female possesses two menacing features: the bioluminescent lure mounted to her head (to entice prey) and a mouthful of depressible, glassy fangs (to destroy her victims). A she-devil.
In the days, months, years to come, for this would forever be a part of me now, I would lament the devil in Mavis Chambers, and be soul-sick at the way she destroyed her boys.
For the moment, though, I crumbled under the weight of my own agony. Sam holstered his gun and bent down to help me off the gravel driveway. I gripped his shoulders with my right arm and he lifted me up. I buried my face in his neck. My left arm, completely immoveable, pulsed in agony. The joint swelled.
“It’s going to be okay,” he said, leading me over to his car. I leaned against the passenger door. He brought his hand up to my face, and brushed my wet cheek. “It’s over. I know you’re in pain-”
I shook my head, and whispered, “She was terrible to them, Sam. The things in that house-” My voice just stopped. Tears streamed down my face. I feel like I already know you. Darryl’s words haunted me. Now, I knew him, too.
Chapter Seventy-Eight
Weightless
The Wright Brothers owned a bicycle business in Dayton, Ohio that paid the bills just fine, but wasn’t enough. These visionary inventors worked to build a flying machine, capable of carrying a man across the skies. For them, it wasn’t just a hobby. It was an obsession. Dreams are like that. Fail and fail again, but you redesign, make adjustments, and try anew. December 17, 1903, the brothers made it happen. Their Flyer lifted off the ground for twelve glorious seconds, flying 120 feet. Where did their dream literally take flight? The beaches of North Carolina.
Beach Read opened Wednesday. One day after Mavis’ death. Twenty-six days after my arrival in Tipee.
I was heavily drugged, with my broken elbow in a sling, but smiling nonetheless. My first customers were my parents, followed promptly by my grandparents, not to be outdone, and then most other members of the Duffy clan, with obvious exceptions. The story times drew decent crowds, mostly thanks to Clark’s promotions in the paper.
Beach Read’s Grand Opening sales weren’t so grand, and would have been downright dismal if not for the Duffy contributions, but it was a start and either way it had been grand, after all. The store was open. I expected that from now on, everything would be smoother, even if I didn’t reach my goals.
Of course, I’ve made mistakes before.
Once the police digested what I’d told them about Mavis Chambers and searched the house, they formed a new equation that added up into something sad and sinister. Mavis spearheaded the robberies from the very beginning, planning where and when they would take place and even coordinating timing as she did on the few nights I caught her conversations at Bingo. Because Mavis was a collector and integrated herself so well in various activities through church and community, she could pinpoint good targets.
As children, Darryl and Ronnie learned quickly that they could not disobey their mother without severe consequences. Mavis had punished her children by locking them away. The basement closet was their prison. It’s no wonder that Darryl learned to pick locks.
The boys probably practiced some kind of thievery all their lives, but it wasn’t until the last year that their activities expanded into a business. With the four of them working together, they created an impressive team. Darryl was the brains behind each break-in, while Lenny and Ronnie fenced the goods. Ronnie auctioned collectible items online while Lenny traded and sold everyday items to vendors and customers in flea markets all over the c
oast.
When Darryl fell in love with Raina, his vision changed. And unlike football, his mother couldn’t break him of her. Wisely, Darryl had kept his love’s identity a secret, having only the family picture of the Duffy’s in his room as a clue for his snooping mother. The combination of me moving to town, spotting us together my first day, and Darryl working on my store led her to conclude that it must be me. And, I’m so glad that she made the mistake, especially after I learned about Raina. My terror at sea suddenly wasn’t so terrible; God made sense again.
By the following week, life had settled into some sort of normalcy. I lived in my own apartment; Henry lived downstairs on my air mattress. We worked in Great Aunt Laura’s bookstore. And the evil shadows that had consumed me crept back into their dark corners again, mostly.
On the roof, Sam had set up two lawn chairs and a small table in the corner with the best view. He’d placed a single yellow rose in the center of the table in a bud vase, and there was an assortment of store-bought snacks laid out for me. Well after closing, we sat there, feet up, staring up at a night sky filled with bright stars.
It felt like we were in a Corona commercial, though he’d brought Samuel Adams. I sipped my beer and looked out into the darkness. The ocean was out there. I could hear it, smell the saltiness in the air. It felt good to be high off the ground.
“You don’t seem like you’re in a celebratory mood,” Sam noted.
I shrugged. “I should be.”
“What’s wrong?”
I huffed. “Haven’t been sleeping well.”
“Bad dreams?”
I chuckled sarcastically. “Silly me. I thought the tidal waves were bad.” I let out in a breath, “I just feel dark and empty every time I think of Darryl and even Ronnie, too.”
“There’s nothing else you could have done,” Sam said. “You could go crazy thinking about all the what-ifs and if-onlys.”
Sea-Devil: A Delilah Duffy Mystery Page 31