The Beast House bhc-2

by Richard Laymon

  Tyler pulled her hood release as a lean, sour-looking man stepped around the front of her car. He crouched by her window. The name patch on his shirt read Bix. He peered inside as if sizing them both up, and one side of his mouth stretched over. “Ladies,” he said.

  “Hi. Fill it up with unleaded, please.”

  He gave the window sill a pat, then ambled around to the other side.

  “Guess I’ll make a pit stop,” Nora said. “Go while the goin’s good.” She left the car, eased past the pumps, and headed for the station building.

  Tyler climbed out. She stretched, feeling good as her muscles strained. The breeze off the ocean smelled fresh. Mixed with the subtle aroma of pines was a faint, pungent odor of gasoline. The breeze chilled the sweaty back of her blouse. Reaching around, she plucked the clinging fabric away from her skin.

  Abe was watching the pump as he filled his tank.

  She turned to Bix as he approached.

  “Check under the hood for you?” he asked.

  “Please.”

  He nodded. His eyes strayed to her breasts and paused there for a moment before shifting away. Then he stepped past her. He bent over the hood and felt under its lip for the catch.

  Tyler glanced down to make sure her blouse was buttoned. It was. “Is there a place to stay around here?” she asked.

  “A motel, like?”

  “Yes.”

  He licked his lower lip. He stared at her breasts as if the answer were written there. “Only one,” he finally said. “That’d be the Welcome Inn, about half a mile up the road, on your right.”

  “Thank you,” she said.

  He raised the hood. Tyler was glad to be hidden from his view. She considered asking the location of Seaside Lane, but wanted as little as possible to do with him. She could find Dan’s place without the help of this lech.

  Abe was still bent over the rear of his Mustang, pumping in gas. She walked over to him. He looked at her and smiled. “What’s up?” he asked.

  “The guy says there’s a motel about half a mile up the road.”

  “I was starting to wonder if we’d find one.”

  “Apparently there is only one. The Welcome Inn.”

  “Clever.”

  “He says it’s on the right.”

  “Fine. We’ll follow you in.” The feed clicked off. He pulled the spout out of his tank and stepped backward, holding it away from himself so gasoline wouldn’t drip onto his Nikes. He hung up the nozzle. Then he sniffed his fingers. He caught Tyler grinning. “Stinky,” he said.

  She laughed. “We’ve got some Wet Ones in the car.”

  “Thanks,” he said. “I’m a big boy. I can live with it.” He screwed the gas cap on.

  “Oil’s half a quart low,” Bix said, coming up behind her.

  “Thanks,” she said. “See you later,” she told Abe, and returned to her car. Watching from the window, she saw him pay cash. He pushed the wallet into his rear pocket. It made a small bulge. The other pocket apparently empty, curved smoothly over his right buttock.

  The passenger door swung open. “Hi ho,” Nora said, climbing in.

  “Everything come out all right?” Tyler asked.

  “Right as rain. Did you ask Clyde about a motel?”

  “Bix. Yeah. Dead ahead.”

  “Terrific.”

  Tyler found her credit card as Bix approached.

  “Eleven-fifty,” he said.

  She gave him the card. He left with it. “What a turkey,” she said.

  “Yeah?”

  “Like this.” She leered at Nora’s breasts, wiggling her eyebrows and running her tongue across her lips.

  “Ask him for a date. Definitely.”

  “Right.”

  A moment later, he stepped in front of the car. He jotted down the license plate number and came back to Tyler’s window. She took the plastic clipboard from him, and started to sign the receipt.

  “You with those guys?” he asked.

  Tyler didn’t answer.

  “They’re our Secret Service escort,” Nora said.

  “Yeah? Who you trying to shit?”

  Tyler plucked her card from its slot.

  “You don’t recognize Amy Carter when you see her?”

  She ripped off the top copy of the receipt.

  “Well, now,” Nora went on. “I guess you wouldn’t. She’s incognito.”

  Tyler handed out the clipboard. Bix yanked it from her hand. He crouched and stared in at Nora. “You’re a real laugh.”

  Tyler started the engine. She released the emergency brake and shifted to first.

  “Wi—”

  She popped the clutch. The car lurched forward.

  “I didn’t catch that!” Nora yelled, turning in her seat.

  “I did,” Tyler said.

  “What did he call me?”

  “A wise-ass cunt,” Tyler said, and pulled onto the road.

  “Did he?”

  “Please. Don’t flip him the bird. He knows where we’ll be staying.”

  “Ah. Well, all right. Coward.”

  “That’s me.”

  “Seaside?” repeated the pleasant, bald man behind the registration desk. “Did you come in by way of town?”

  “Yes,” Tyler said.

  “What there was of it,” Nora added.

  The man chuckled. So did Jack Wyatt, who was waiting behind them with Abe.

  “Well,” the man said, “you want to head back through what there is of town. Just this side of the monster palace, you’ll see a dirt road on your right.”

  “Just this side of Beast House?” Tyler asked.

  “Yep. The monster palace. The road’s called Beach Lane. It’ll take you to the beach parking, but you don’t want to go that far. Just about a hundred yards in, you’ll come to Seaside. That’ll be to your right. Doesn’t go to the left.”

  “Thank you,” Tyler said.

  “Where’s the best place for dinner?” Nora asked.

  “You’re there. Right next door. The Carriage House. Of course I’m partial as I run the place. But you can’t do better. Fine steaks and seafood and ambience at moderate prices.” He checked his wristwatch. His arm, unlike his head, was matted with hair. “If you’re after something to cut the thirst, our Happy Hour’s just started. Two drinks for the price of one, and free hors d’oeuvres. Runs till six.”

  “Hey, all right!” Nora said. She turned around. “Maybe see you guys there. Say in an hour or so?”

  “I’ll be there,” Jack assured her.

  Abe nodded. He met Tyler’s eyes. “Are you going off now to look up your friend?”

  “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “Good hunting,” he said.

  “Thanks.”

  He frowned at his shoes, then looked again into her eyes. “That offer for dinner’s still open. Have him join us.”

  “Right,” she said. “He and his wife.”

  “The eternal pessimist,” Nora said.

  “Anyway, good luck.”

  “I’ll need it.”

  Abe and Jack stayed in the office to check in. Nora followed Tyler outside. “You sure you still want to find Dan?” she asked.

  “What does that mean?”

  “Looks to me like our friend Abe is more than a little interested in you.”

  Tyler trotted down the porch stairs and got into the car. Nora climbed into the passenger side. “He’s gorgeous,” she added.

  “I hardly know him.”

  “Ah, but admit it, he makes your little heart go pitty-pat.”

  “You’re imagining things,” Tyler said, and started the engine. She headed for the courtyard entrance. “You don’t have to come along. If you’d rather stay here and clean up, or…”

  “Do I smell?” Nora sniffed her armpits.

  “I don’t want to keep you from the Happy Hour.”

  “No sweat,” she said. “Hey. Ritzy clientele.”

  “Yeah.” Tyler drove slowly past the gray Mercedes, and pu
lled to a stop in front of the next duplex over. “Really,” she said, “you don’t need to come.”

  “You telling me I’m not wanted?”

  “No. I just thought you might prefer to stay behind, that’s all. The way you were trying to talk me out of it.”

  “I was only pointing out there’s no law you have to go looking for Dan. It’s obvious you’re nervous about it, and it’s also obvious you’ve got eyes for Abe.”

  “I don’t have ‘eyes’ for anyone,” she protested.

  “Uh-huh. Sure.”

  “Come on, let’s get our stuff in the rooms.”

  A few minutes later, after throwing her suitcase onto one of the beds, washing up, putting on fresh lipstick and brushing her hair, she stepped to the connecting door. “Ready,” she called.

  “Meet you at the car,” Nora answered.

  She left her room. Abe’s Mustang was parked in front of a bungalow just across the courtyard.

  As she stepped around the front of her Omni, Nora’s door opened. Tyler watched her friend hop down the steps, breasts jiggling inside her T-shirt. For just a moment, she felt threatened and wary.

  A faint scent of perfume entered the car with Nora. “Loins all girded?”

  “My loins are fine,” Tyler said.

  “You okay?”

  “Just a little nervous.”

  “Let’s went, Queeksdraw.”

  Rounding a bend, they left the wooded hills behind. The service station appeared just ahead.

  “Pull in,” Nora said. “I want to give Clyde a piece of my mind.”

  “Bix.” Tyler glanced to the left, saw the man crouching to check the air in a Honda’s tire, and pressed harder on the accelerator.

  “Wonder if he’s related to the asshole we met on the road. You oughta see the welt that sucker raised on me with that aerial.”

  “Must have hurt.”

  “He’ll think twice before he pulls that kind of shit again.” A few minutes later, Nora said, “Better slow down, here comes the monster palace.”

  Tyler glanced ahead at the old house. Its windows, catching the late afternoon sunlight, looked plated with gold.

  “This might be it.”

  She took her foot off the gas pedal. As the car lost speed, she swept her eyes along the roadside to the right. Just past a five-and-ten was a vacant, wooded lot. The trees stopped at a dirt road. She flicked the arm of her turn signal.

  “That’s it,” Nora confirmed. “Beach Lane.”

  Tyler eased down on the brake, and swung onto the narrow, rutted road.

  “Your Dan believes in roughing it.”

  “So it seems.” The area to the right, where his house must be, was thick and shadowy with trees. By comparison, the rolling, weed-choked field to the left looked bare. Off in that direction stood a two-story house of red brick, alone except for a separate garage.

  “That’s unusual,” Nora said.

  “What?”

  “How many actual brick houses do you ever see in California?”

  “Maybe it was built by eas—”

  “I’ll be damned. Look at that. No windows.”

  Tyler looked again. Sure enough, the only visible wall was an unbroken expanse of brick. “Maybe on the other sides…”

  “Guess they’re not very view-conscious.”

  Tyler laughed.

  Nora shook her head and faced the windshield. “Ah, here comes Seaside.”

  Tyler stopped by a row of mailboxes lined up along a raised shelf. The gray metal hoods were labeled two, four, eight, and ten. She rolled past them, and peered down the narrow lane. “Maybe we’d better walk,” she said. “Can’t be too far.”

  “You don’t want to block traffic,” Nora said, flashing a smile.

  “God forbid.”

  Tyler drove past the entrance to Seaside. Not far ahead, the road widened into a parking area. She stopped against a log. A wedge of ocean glinting sunlight showed through a break in the low hills ahead. A footpath curved along one of the slopes.

  “Nuts,” Nora said. “We should’ve brought our suits.”

  They climbed from the car. A stiff breeze tugged at Tyler’s hair, molded her blouse to her body. When she turned away from the ocean, it pushed at her back as if urging her to rush.

  Nora met her behind the car. She was slipping her arms into the sleeves of her red sweater. Her face was wrapped with tendrils of blowing hair. As they walked along, she buttoned the sweater.

  Thank you, wind, Tyler thought.

  Then hurried to Seaside. There, the trees shielded them from the wind but also kept out the sunlight. They walked in silence through the deep shadows.

  Tyler shivered—partly from the chill, mostly from the knowledge that she might, in minutes, be face to face with Dan Jenson. What were the chances, after five years, that he would welcome her, that they could pick up where they left off? Slim, she thought. Minuscule. But she had come this far. There was no turning back. She clenched her teeth to stop her jaw from shaking.

  From a cottage on the left, a dog began to yap. A gaunt man appeared behind the screen door. Nora raised a hand in greeting. The man stood motionless, a dim shape through the screen, staring out at them.

  “Charming,” Nora muttered. “Let’s hear some ‘Dueling Banjos.’”

  They passed a clapboard shack with boarded windows, then came upon a wheelless bus propped up on cinder blocks. They paused to stare at the mural painted on its side: a ghost ship with tattered sails becalmed on a glaring sea. A human skeleton clung to the helm. A giant albatross floated before the ship, an arrow in its breast. Above the bus’s door hung a sign carved in driftwood: captain frank.

  “Interesting neighbors your Dan has,” Nora said.

  They continued down the gloomy road to its end, where a path led toward a small, green-painted cottage with a screened porch.

  “That must be it,” Nora said.

  Tyler’s heart pounded hard. “I don’t see a car anywhere.”

  “Maybe he’s not home yet.”

  They walked down the path. Tyler followed Nora up the porch steps. Nora knocked on the door, then pulled it open. Except for a swing suspended from its ceiling, the porch was empty. That seemed odd to Tyler. Similar cottages she’d known as a child while vacationing with her parents always had porches cluttered with gear: fishing rods, a tackle box and minnow bucket, a fishnet, an old Coleman lantern, a refrigerator well stocked with soda and beer, hooks on the walls draped with rain slickers and beach towels. There was none of that.

  “No doorbell,” Nora whispered. “I’ll let you do the knocking.” She stepped away from the door and sat on the swing. Its chains creaked and groaned as she pushed it into motion.

  Tyler rapped lightly on the door. She waited, then struck harder. “I don’t think he’s home.”

  “It’s only about four thirty,” Nora said from the swing.

  Tyler cupped her hands to a glass pane in the door, and peered inside. She could see no more than the kitchen. “Maybe Barbie Doll gave us the wrong address,” she said.

  “I doubt it. She was flaky, but not stupid.”

  “Well, nobody’s home.”

  “Shall we wait, or try again some other time?”

  Tyler shrugged. Though disappointed, she also felt relieved; her eagerness to meet Dan was mixed with such anxiety that she was almost glad they had failed. “It might be a long wait,” she said. “Cops have weird hours. He could’ve just started a shift, or something.”

  “Then you want to leave?”

  “We don’t want to keep you from the Happy Hour.”

  “I’m perfectly willing to wait.”

  “No, let’s go.”

  They left the porch and walked up the path to the dirt road.

  “Maybe,” Nora said, “we can check a phone directory when we get back, make sure we do have the right address. You might even give him a ring, unless you’re intent on making a surprise appearance.”

  “Yeah, that’s an idea.�
�� A phone call, she thought, would be much easier on the nerves. That way, at least, she might find out how he stood. They could arrange to meet, regardless. Even if he was married or engaged or there was some other reason not to renew their relationship, she still would like to see him again.

  “Ahoy there!” a man called.

  Seated on a lawn chair atop the strangely painted bus, a beer can raised in greeting, was a white-bearded man. He wore a ragged straw hat, a Hawaiian shirt, and plaid Bermuda shorts.

  “Captain Frank?” Nora asked.

  “At your service, mateys.”

  “We’re looking for Dan Jenson,” Tyler called up to him. “He lives at the end of the road?”

  “Not anymore.” Captain Frank chuckled softly. “No indeed.”

  “He moved?”

  “You might say that.”

  “Do you know where we can find him?”

  “Can’t find him anywhere tonight. Try tomorrow, if you’re of a mind.”

  “Where?”

  He tilted the beer can to his mouth, then crumpled it and tossed it down. It landed on the layer of pine needles beside his bus. “Oh, Dan’s not far off. No, indeed. Just down the road a spell. Can’t miss it. A place called Beast House.”

  “He lives there?” Tyler asked.

  “I wouldn’t say that, not exactly. Go on by in the morning. Tell him Captain Frank sent you, and give Danny boy my regards.” He waved them away.

  “Thanks,” Tyler called.

  They started walking.

  “He must work as a guard there,” Nora said.

  “Yeah. I suppose. But he must live someplace.”

  Nora shrugged. “You can ask him all about it tomorrow.”

  “I guess this means we’ll have to take the tour.”

  “You’ll love it. Tacky tacky.”

  “I can’t wait,” she muttered.

  “Let’s get back to the inn and get tanked.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Tyler pulled to a stop in front of their bungalow at the Welcome Inn. “It’ll take me a while to get cleaned up and changed,” she said. “You can go on ahead to the restaurant, if you’d like.”