She looked at the clock on the sideboard. It was still another hour until dinner. She sighed as she paced the hallway. She could use another drink, but she didn’t want to be gassed by dinner time. She thought a warm bath would help to calm her nerves, but images of the blood filled bathtub bubbled up in her mind’s eye. Perhaps a swim in the pool would be better. But then she would have to deal with the usual suspects at the pool. Damn. She couldn’t keep hiding from the others. If she wanted to enjoy the pool she had as much right as anyone else.
Elizabeth changed in her room and then ventured out into the courtyard. The two piece bathing suit she wore was conservative, but did little to mask the self consciousness she felt about her emaciated frame. Her fears of running into someone else at the pool were groundless - no one was outside in the pool area. She didn’t want Jewel leering at her when all she wanted to do was relax, nor would she have felt comfortable if Chet was outside working on his tan. Even though she was grateful for the solitude, she was struck once again how she seemed to find herself alone so often when she was surrounded by a house full of people.
Except that she wasn’t alone. She smelled the man’s cigarette before she saw him. Her head whipped around, searching the perimeters of the courtyard. There he was, standing in the shadows beside the small house by the stairs leading to the tennis courts. He was dressed in an odd looking uniform. He examined her from behind mirrored aviator style sunglasses. He must be one of the security guards, Elizabeth thought, but at the same time she realized she had never seen one of the guards. She felt the coldness of those mirrored sunglass-covered eyes boring into hers. The man lifted a cigarette stub to his lips. It flared brightly as he inhaled, then he pitched the cigarette away and disappeared inside the cottage.
The man’s gaze left her feeling uncomfortable. She had a vague sense there was something familiar about him, as if she had seen him before. She couldn’t place it. Like everything else, it didn’t quite fit.
She was surprised to find the late afternoon air was warm. The skies remained gloomy and overcast, but Elizabeth knew the sun’s rays were at their most harmful when filtered through the ever present haze of the southern California skies in late fall. She would only swim for a few minutes.
She draped her towel over the back of one of the wicker lounge chairs beside the pool and tested the water with her foot. She found it warm and inviting. She walked to the far end of the pool and stepped down into the water, holding onto the rungs of the ladder until she was half submerged in the water. She let go of the ladder railing and allowed herself to float backward onto the water.
This was just what she needed. The water felt comforting around her body as she floated on the raft, lazily working her arms and legs to help her body stay afloat. She paddled until she reached the inflatable raft and hoisted herself up onto it.
Lying on her back she closed her eyes again and drifted. She wished she could remain like this forever. Serene, calm, peaceful. Nothing disturbed her.
“Elizabeth.”
The voice called to her. She must have drifted off into sleep, for the voice seemed far away, just at the edge of consciousness.
She opened her eyes, squinting against the powerful overcast haze.
“Elizabeth.”
She sat up on the raft, looking at each side of the pool. She was still alone.
“Elizabeth,” the voice called again, insistent. It was real, not a figment of her imagination.
“I’m up here! Look at me Elizabeth!”
She followed the voice. Her eyes darted upward, up past the bougainvillea spilling from the gallery along the back of the second floor of the house, up to the roof where she saw Bobby standing on the peak of the roof, his legs straddling the terra cotta tiles. What was Bobby doing on the roof?
“Elizabeth,” Bobby called again. “Watch me!”
And then he was gliding through the air, like a diver cutting a perfect arc off the cliffs of Acapulco, gliding, sailing, curving in a slow motion moment that seemed to go on and on forever.
The crack of Bobby’s head as it collided against the flagstones sickened her. She heard the violent thump as the ground welcomed his body, heard the brittle snap of bones.
In the distance she heard a lone gull cry. The wind rustled the palms that lined the courtyard.
She was screaming, she knew that much, screaming and struggling to drag herself up out of the pool. The pool seemed filled with detritus. Something slimy crawled across her body. Tiny webbed feet danced across her bare skin. She screamed again, brushing at the toads that scampered gleefully across her body, thrashing now, her arms flailing about in the water.
Confusion. Why was the pool so filthy and spoiled with rotten vegetation?
And then they were there, Chet and Bryce, thank God, and Dr. Abernathy and Jewel and Dakota, all of them running out into the courtyard. She heard their voices, shouting, panicking. Dakota screaming as she saw Bobby’s body, Bryce diving into the water, dragging at Elizabeth’s body, dragging her to the edge of the pool where Chet’s arms lifted her up and out until she was lying there on the wet flagstones, gasping, her lungs desperately sucking air into her body. She rolled onto her side and perched on her elbows.
Beneath Bobby’s head a crimson halo spread across the flagstones.
“Elizabeth, what on earth were you doing in the pool?” said Bryce. “You can’t swim in that thing. Mrs. Valdez told us that on our first day.”
She looked, and sure enough the pool was unclean, the water covered in a skin of filthy algae. Frogs frolicked back and forth among the piles of rotting vines and leaves.
She looked from the pool to Bryce, and then turned away from the look of abject pity on his face. Oh God, dear God no! This could not be happening to her. She clutched at the collar of Bryce’s shirt. “Bryce, what’s happening here? Tell me what’s going on.”
She saw wetness at the corners of his eyes, saw him attempt to swallow, saw the hard knot well up in his throat.
“Bobby?” she whispered, unable to bring herself to look at Bobby again.
“Elizabeth,” Bryce said, his voice a gentle whisper, “Elizabeth, Bobby is dead.”
Bryce and Chet held Elizabeth’s arms behind her back to keep her from tearing at her eyes, held her tight until Dr. Abernathy’s needle plunged into her shoulder, she screaming and pleading, “No needles. You promised there wouldn’t be any needles.” They held her until the drug took command and she at last ceased to struggle.
The last thing she remembered before she closed her eyes was that the bougainvillea, which only moments before appeared to be in full bloom, was now withered vines, little more than limp husks dangling from the second floor gallery of the house.
Chapter Twelve
She awoke to find three blank faced men in stiff suits hovering over her. One of them was Dr. Abernathy. He spoke to the other two men in a polite but firm tone, trying to reason with them that Elizabeth was in no condition to be interviewed. But the questions came anyway. How long had she known Bobby and had he seemed suicidal to her? She found it difficult to speak, as if her tongue had swollen two sizes too large for her mouth. They asked why she had gone swimming in a pool that so obviously was not fit. The water was warm and inviting and she had seen other guests swimming in the pool all week, didn’t she have the right to go swimming in it as well? In the end they shook their heads and allowed Dr. Abernathy to lead them away.
She awoke again later when Mrs. Valdez brought a tray of food to her room. Mrs. Valdez helped Elizabeth prop herself up on pillows and would have spoon fed her herself, only Elizabeth turned her head away and wished with all her might that Mrs. Valdez would go away and leave her in peace.
Later, she awoke with a sense that someone was in her room. A small lamp burned on the bedside table and in the meager light she saw the face of a woman hovering over her. Madelyn de Winter put her finger to her lips, indicating that Elizabeth should keep silent. She beckoned to Elizabeth. Elizabeth tossed aside the
covers, and when she sat on the edge of the bed she saw that Madelyn was holding a little boy by the hand. In his hand the little boy held a voodoo doll, a scrawny little wax doll with sunken eyes and a shank of Elizabeth’s hair stuck to its head.
I don’t want to go.
You must. I have many things to show you.
Make him put the doll away.
Madelyn de Winter snapped her fingers and the doll disappeared.
Better?
Elizabeth nodded. Madelyn tossed her long black hair over her shoulder, and with a beguiling smile beckoned to Elizabeth again. Elizabeth got up from the bed and followed Madelyn and the little boy out of the room.
Jewel was in the hall, holding her goat by its leash. Her white hair stood out in contrast to the black cape she wore, and her lips were smeared red with blood. Jewel bit into the apple she held in her hand and then offered it to the goat. The goat laughed at Elizabeth, and then Jewel threw back her head and laughed as well. Madelyn called to Elizabeth from the stairs.
Hurry.
She followed Madelyn downstairs and into the drawing room. A stage was set up with a red velvet curtain. Dr. Abernathy was there, dressed in a white lab coat and he led her to a seat at the front of the stage. There was a smattering of applause as the curtain opened to reveal a man in an astronaut’s white and silver space suit. The astronaut removed his helmet and there was Chet Hargrove. He lifted a microphone from its stand and knelt on the front of the stage.
I’d like to dedicate this next number to all the love birds here tonight.
Dr. Abernathy held Elizabeth’s hand, and as Chet began to sing Bobby Dixon’s hit Daddy’s Little Girl, Dr. Abernathy parted his lips and kissed Elizabeth so sensually she thought she would melt into a puddle on the floor. She closed her eyes and surrendered to the kiss.
A flash of light caused her to open her eyes and drew her attention back to the stage. Chet had burst into flames and was running in slow motion about the stage. The flames lashed out at the velvet curtains and within moments the entire room had gone up in flames.
Elizabeth screamed and ran for the door. As soon as the door opened she was on the stairs leading down to the beach, and as she made her way toward the beach she saw Jewel standing among the weeds and bracken on the hillside. Jewel let go of the goat’s leash and it charged after Elizabeth. Elizabeth screamed and, kicking off her sandals, raced barefoot across the sand. She could hear the chattering of tiny teeth and the gallop of little hooves close behind her, and when she turned to glance over her shoulder she saw that she was being pursued by a herd of goats, all bleating and laughing at her in their wicked little voices. Several of them nipped at her ankles causing her to scream louder. She could not escape them fast enough.
As she screamed again she felt rough hands grab hold of her from all sides. She was lifted off the ground and then forced onto her back. She struggled in vain as the hands bound her to a gurney with heavy leather straps. Then she was being wheeled down a long dark corridor, unable to see anything other than the dim overhead lamps as one after another passed before her eyes.
She shut her eyes, willing herself to wake from the nightmare. When she opened them again, she felt a warm, wet body pressed against hers. She wrapped her arms around the body, hugging it to her. She was back again in the house on Mulholland Drive. Here was Sven’s mutilated body, his life draining away as she cried and held him in her arms. She wiped some of the blood away from his face and saw that it wasn’t Sven at all, it was her father.
Betty.
She began to cry softly. Was this real? Was she dreaming? Whatever was happening to her she wanted the nightmare to be over.
Betty.
Whose voice was that? It wasn’t Daddy’s voice, but it sounded familiar. She knew who it was. She looked about the room. There were the white walls drenched in blood, and the dripping pentagram, and in the shadows there was a gray blur, like a thumb in front of a camera lens. Only it wasn’t a blur anymore. She could see it now. She could see it for who it really was. She squinted at the blur. Just a few more seconds and she would know who it was. All this time the answer had been right in front of her.
Betty, it’s time to wake up.
She opened her eyes. Dakota sat by her bedside. Dear, sweet Dakota.
“Hi,” said Dakota.
“Hi.”
“Are you okay?”
“I had the worst dream.” Elizabeth rubbed her face. What was it she had been dreaming? She flashed on a fragment, the image of a goat eating an apple, and then as quickly as it came, it was gone.
“Want to tell me about it?”
“I can’t remember any of it.”
Dakota patted her hand. “Poor Elizabeth, you’ve been through such a shock.”
“Where’s Bobby?”
“Sweetheart, Bobby’s dead. Don’t you remember?”
“Say it’s not true.”
“I’m sorry, Elizabeth.”
“I don’t understand. He seemed so happy, so eager to get out of here, get on with his life. He wants to be a rock singer, can you imagine that? He told me about it this morning.”
“Bobby couldn’t have talked to you this morning. Bobby died yesterday.”
“What day is it?”
“Thursday.”
“Thursday, yes of course. I meant that he spoke with me yesterday. I thought today is still Wednesday.”
“That sedative Dr. Abernathy gave you is a whopper. He said the police didn’t understand a word you were saying.”
“The police?”
“Yes, they questioned all of us, just like they did after Joan killed herself. I guess it’s routine after someone commits suicide, just to make sure someone didn’t actually do the job for them.”
“Bobby didn’t commit suicide.”
“Elizabeth you don’t know what you’re saying. You saw him jump off the roof yourself, didn’t you?”
Elizabeth closed her eyes and saw Bobby gliding through the air in slow motion as he dove off the peak of the roof.
“I mean he didn’t kill himself, he wouldn’t have done that to himself. Someone must have pushed him.”
“No one pushed Bobby. You saw him jump. You said so yourself. Did you see anyone else on the roof?”
“No.”
“You see? It’s not so hard to understand. But what I don’t understand is what made you think you could go swimming in that pool, I mean, it’s so filthy.”
Elizabeth closed her eyes but could not close her mind against the idea that she somehow thought she could go swimming in the pool. She was certain she had seen Chet in the pool on her first day at the clinic when Mrs. Valdez led her and Bryce on a tour of the house. She was sure of it, could see Chet’s tan body as clear as day, and could even remember the drops of water beaded across his chest and shoulders as he stood in front of her in his tight white trunks. She refused to believe that she had imagined it, refused to believe that there was some fault in her memory which was causing it to play tricks on her. When she went out to the pool to go swimming the water was clear and inviting. Someone had deliberately put those leaves and those frogs, all those nasty little frogs hopping about, into the swimming pool.
No one could have slipped that many props into the pool while you were in it could they?
What else could it be but a fault in her memory? Was her mental health far worse than she realized? If she had imagined that the pool was clean and safe to go swimming, couldn’t she have imagined the other things as well, the fragments of dream memory that appeared to be creeping into her waking mind, playing tricks on her consciousness, altering her waking reality, all this confusion which hadn’t begun until she agreed to allow Dr. Abernathy to inject her with Morphenol.
“Morphenol,” Elizabeth said.
“What about it?”
“It’s got to be the Morphenol. There is no other explanation.” Elizabeth grabbed Dakota’s wrist. “Were you able to sneak into the Dr. Abernathy’s office? Did you find my records?
Do you know what he’s got me on?”
“Don’t flip out on me.”
“Did you get into his office?”
“Yes, I did.”
“What did you find?”
“Nothing. I mean, I found your records, but there aren’t any medications on there. He listed the sedative he gave you, but there’s nothing about this Morphenol or anything else.”
“Oh God,” Elizabeth cried out. “This has got to stop. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”
Night of the Pentagram Page 21