Creeps Suzette

by Mary Daheim

  “She mentioned being raised here,” Judith remarked. “It must have been an odd life for her, growing up among the rich kids with her father as the family butler.”

  “That would be tough,” Renie allowed. “Sarah has never left this place. I wonder if she ever tried.”

  Sadly, Judith shook her head. “While we might see Creepers as a prison, others might see it as a refuge.”

  “Possibly,” Renie said, getting up. “What do you think of Bev’s information regarding Suzette?”

  Judith shrugged. “I don’t know what to think. It sounds innocuous. Maybe there are too many lively imaginations in this house. Leota, Caroline, Edna. Hey, where are you going?”

  Renie was at the door. “Down for cocktails. Are you coming?”

  “But Peggy told us we weren’t welcome,” Judith protested.

  “Peggy be damned,” Renie retorted. “Bev told us to hang in there. So that’s what we’ll do. Let’s go. Maybe some of the guests will have insights about Leota’s near-death experiences, or Dr. Moss’s real one.”

  “I don’t know,” Judith quibbled. “We should probably visit Leota.”

  “She’s still out of it, I bet,” Renie countered. “We can check in with her after we’ve been snubbed by the neighbors.”

  With misgivings, Judith trailed after Renie, but insisted on stopping at Mrs. Burgess’s suite. Nurse Fritz opened the door a scant two inches.

  “How’s the patient?” Judith inquired.

  “Worn out,” Fritz replied. “Dr. Stevens gave me orders to keep everyone away, which certainly didn’t sit well with Mr. Wayne. I had to send him packing not more than five minutes ago. No visitors means no visitors. I reminded him that this isn’t Evergreen Timber. Dr. Stevens is in charge here.”

  “Is Dr. Stevens here now?” Judith asked.

  “He left,” said Fritz. “Doctor’s on the ragged edge, too. This has been a very difficult day for him, not to mention the fact that he was up virtually all of last night.”

  Judith agreed, adding that Nurse Fritz must also be tired. “Can you rest a bit?”

  “Not until Mrs. Burgess settles in for the night,” Fritz said. “I’m fine. I’m accustomed to long hours.”

  The cousins continued downstairs. They could hear subdued voices in the drawing room. Upon entering, they saw a dozen or more well-dressed, decorous men and women drinking cocktails and talking in small groups of twos and threes.

  Peggy Hillman took one look at Judith and Renie, then marched straight toward them. “Listen,” she said, her voice low, her face flushed, and fire in her blue eyes, “I told you to butt out. Do I have to get nasty?”

  “You already did,” Renie shot back. “We’re here on a mission, remember? If you don’t lighten up, Bev’s going to fly home to find out what’s really going on.”

  “Bev!” Peggy sneered, clutching her Scotch and soda. “She stays away for years on end, then thinks she has a right to lord it over the rest of us. She’s been an intruder at Creepers since the day she was born.”

  “Bev’s my friend,” Renie asserted. “Unless you want a scene in front of all these clannish moneybags, move your butt so we can watch Kenyon mix our drinks in slow motion.”

  Eyes still flashing, Peggy started to say something, but stopped and stepped aside. “You win this round,” she hissed, “but watch yourself. Those big front teeth of yours better not bite off more than they can chew.”

  Renie smirked, but said nothing further until she and Judith reached the bar. “Did we once say Peggy was ever so human? I retract that statement.”

  “Don’t,” Judith responded, aware that some of the guests were staring discreetly. “It’s because she’s so human that she’s so mad at us.”

  “Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Renie retorted.

  Judith shrugged. “No, but a good stiff shot might. Let’s drink.”

  The cocktail hour, which lasted until almost seven as Peggy had promised, proved a disappointment to the cousins. As Renie had flippantly predicted, they were indeed snubbed by the residents of Sunset Cliffs. Even Judith, with her friendly manner, struck out when it came to making conversation. Not once did either of the cousins get past the introduction stages. Aside from chatting briefly with Kenneth, they ended up talking to each other.

  “I get the impression we aren’t welcome at dinner,” Judith said as they took what was left of their drinks into the parlor. “Who do you think will be there?”

  Renie ticked off names on her fingers. “Peggy, Wayne, Kenneth, Caroline, maybe Russ. I doubt Dorothy will show up after that scene with Leota. Mr. Wayne and Mrs. Dorothy, as they’re known here, can’t be on good terms. You know, I can’t imagine being called Mrs. Renie.”

  Judith smiled. “Then I won’t call you that. I was thinking, it might be nice to get out of here for a while. Are you hungry for pizza yet?”

  “For dinner?” Renie grimaced. “Okay, if you insist. But it’s still blowing and raining like mad. Are you sure you don’t want to eat in?”

  “Very sure,” Judith said, finishing her drink. “Let’s find Sarah Kenyon and get the garage opener so we can take out my Subaru.”

  Sarah wasn’t in her office down the hall, which wasn’t surprising since it was after seven.

  “Her quarters are on the third floor with the other servants,” Judith mused, “but a housekeeper is in a little different category. Maybe she has a sitting room on this floor.”

  “There’s that room we’ve never seen right here across from the breakfast nook,” Renie pointed out.

  “We can but try,” Judith said, and opened the door. It was a game room, complete with pool table, bar, jukebox, big game trophies, and two people writhing on the floor.

  As quickly and as silently as possible, Judith closed the door and grabbed Renie. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  “Who was that?” Renie panted as they raced through the hallway and back toward the parlor.

  “I’m not sure about the woman,” Judith gasped as they reached sanctuary, “but the man was definitely Wayne Burgess.”

  THIRTEEN

  SUDDENLY OUT OF the mood to drive over to the highway, Judith and Renie had asked Kenyon to bring them a third drink. “We aren’t driving,” Judith said as they waited for the butler to show up in the parlor.

  “Are you sure it was Wayne Burgess?” Renie asked.

  “Yes,” Judith declared. “What little light there was from the wall sconces shone right on the back of his head. I’ll bet he dyes his hair. Anyway, his glasses were lying on the pool table.”

  “It could be Dorothy, in a reconciliation attempt,” Renie said, though she sounded uncertain.

  “Dubious,” Judith replied. “Unless we’ve got incest going on here—heaven forbid—it wasn’t Peggy or Caroline.”

  “Nitz Furse?” Renie suggested.

  “Get serious,” Judith said. “Even if Wayne was really desperate, Fritz wears white stockings. The lady in heat did not.”

  “Who’s left?” Renie asked.

  “The neighbors, obviously. There were a couple of women there—Mrs. Benson and Mrs. Frederick—who were fairly attractive. They were wearing skirts, but then all the women dress for cocktails around here. Whoever it was had decent-looking legs. Or indecent, given the situation.”

  “No wonder Dorothy wants to run off with Jim,” Renie said. “Hanky-panky all over the place. I suppose you could expect it in a closed community like Sunset Cliffs. Do you think Wayne and Whoever knew we were there?”

  “They wouldn’t have noticed if Minnesota Fats was trying to play a game of pool in the same room,” Judith said. “You would have thought they’d have locked the door.”

  “Maybe they went in to shoot some pool and were suddenly overcome with mutual desire,” Renie remarked. “Personally, I find Wayne more of a dud than a stud, but you never know.”

  Kenyon finally appeared with the drinks. “Will you be dining later?” he inquired.

  “Yes,”
Judith replied. “Probably in here. What’s on the menu?”

  “A clear soup, spinach salad with a hot bacon dressing, beef Wellington, garlic mashed potatoes, fresh broccoli, and a white chocolate mousse for dessert. Of course if you prefer something else…”

  “Bring it on,” Renie interrupted.

  “Half an hour,” Judith said, smiling. “We’ll finish our drinks first.”

  “As you wish, ma’am,” said Kenyon, and creaked out of the parlor.

  “Food.” Renie sighed. “I’m glad I’m back.”

  “With a vengeance,” Judith murmured. “You know,” she went on, “when I saw those stuffed animal heads in the game room, I had to wonder if Kenneth wasn’t reacting to them. His grandfather or great-grandfather must have hunted. Maybe he grew up feeling sorry for the lions and tigers and bears, oh, my!”

  “I could eat a bear,” Renie said.

  Judith didn’t comment. For a few minutes, the cousins sipped their drinks in silence, though they could hear the wind and rain howling outside.

  “I want another look at the tower rooms,” Judith said suddenly.

  “Why?”

  “I’m not sure,” Judith admitted, “but our previous visit was pretty cursory.”

  “What if Kenneth’s up there, feeding Roscoe the Raccoon?” Renie asked.

  “He won’t be,” Judith replied, getting up. “Kenneth’s at dinner with the rest of the family.”

  “Okay.” Renie sighed. “Let’s go, but I can do without the invisible weirdo telling us to go away. Peggy’s bad enough doing that in person.”

  Climbing the tower staircase, the cousins could feel the wind. “Not well-insulated in this part of the house,” Judith noted as they entered Kenneth’s room.

  “It’s a tower,” Renie said. “What would you expect?”

  Judith really hadn’t expected to see Roscoe, but there he was, standing on his hind legs in a commodious cage. The bandit eyes gazed soulfully at the cousins.

  “Hey,” Renie said, kneeling down, “from the looks of that food dish, you’ve eaten more than we have this evening. You’ll have to wait for dessert.”

  Judith, meanwhile, was studying the small fireplace, peeking into drawers, looking under the bed. “Nothing,” she said, opening the door to the nursery. “Just the kind of things you’d expect Kenneth to keep on hand for his frequent visits to Creepers.”

  Renie said good-bye to Roscoe and followed Judith into the nursery. “How long,” Renie mused, “do you suppose it’s been since any kids played in here?”

  Judith calculated. “Fifteen years, maybe more?”

  “Do you think they’re keeping it for grandchildren?” Renie asked in a wistful tone.

  Judith gave her cousin a sympathetic glance. So far, none of the three grown Jones offspring had acquired mates or produced children. “That’s possible,” Judith said. “You shouldn’t give up hope, especially these days when kids marry so late.”

  Renie didn’t respond. Instead, she contemplated the train set. “This is a Marx, the same vintage as mine. I don’t think they make them anymore. Uncle Corky gave it to me when I was two.”

  Judith shot Renie a wry look. “He’d given cousin Sue a Lionel before that. I was next in line, but the war came along, and I never got mine.”

  “You’d have stepped on yours,” Renie said, grinning. “I was so excited because I got a freight and Sue only got a passenger model. It didn’t have as many cars.”

  “I liked dolls better anyway,” Judith said, though the envy still lingered in her voice. “Some of these are much older,” Judith said. “They’re porcelain and bisque. Lovely clothes, too.”

  “They probably belonged to Bev’s Aunt Ginny,” Renie replied. “She married a man from back east and died about the time I met Bev. Ginny wasn’t old, only late fifties, I’d guess.”

  “These toys run the gamut,” Judith remarked. “From hand-carved wooden soldiers to plastic Barbies. And look at this dollhouse. I’ll bet this dates back to Aunt Ginny, too. The furniture is the same style as many of the pieces in this house.”

  “Hey,” Renie said, joining Judith at the shelf where the dollhouse was displayed, “this looks like a cutaway replica of Creepers itself. There’s even a tower room on this one side and it’s—” Renie blanched and let out a little gasp.

  “What’s wrong, coz? Are you okay?” Judith asked in alarm.

  A gust of wind blew the door to the nursery shut, making both cousins jump. “Yeah, right, I’m just fine,” Renie said in a startled voice. “But look at this. How creepy can Creepers get?”

  Judith followed Renie’s finger. In the top floor of the half-version of the tower was a bed, a chair, a table, and a tiny doll in a long dark dress. The doll was lying facedown on the floor in what looked like a pool of blood.

  The lights in the nursery went out.

  Scrambling over each other, the cousins groped for the door. Judith found the knob first and moved cautiously out of the nursery. She was trying to find the stairs when she felt something soft and fluttery brush against her cheek. “What was that?” Judith asked in sudden panic.

  “What was what?” Renie asked back.

  Judith started to shake. “I felt something touch my face. Are you sure it wasn’t you?”

  “I’m behind you,” Renie said, her voice tense.

  “It felt like…hair,” Judith gulped.

  “What?” Renie sounded hoarse.

  “Listen.” Judith stood motionless, straining her ears. “I heard something, a hollow sort of noise.”

  Neither Judith nor Renie moved for almost a full minute. The silence, like the darkness, was absolute and suffocating.

  “It’s gone,” Judith finally said. “My God, what was it?”

  “A cobweb?” Renie offered.

  “No. It felt thicker. Heavier.”

  “Don’t hurt me!” shrieked a voice from somewhere on the stairs below them.

  Judith and Renie clutched at each other, teetering dangerously.

  “Jeez,” Renie breathed, “what now?”

  “It’s that same voice we heard before,” Judith said, shaken to her toes. “I still don’t recognize it.”

  “Let’s get out of here,” Renie urged.

  Still clinging to each other, the cousins made their way down the stone steps. They heard nothing else. At the second-floor landing, Judith fumbled for the door to Kenneth’s room, but the knob seemed stuck.

  “I can’t get in,” she said.

  “Why do you want to?”

  “I thought we might find a candle in there,” Judith said. “You try it.”

  Judith rattled the doorknob. “It’s stuck.”

  “Oh, for—” Renie pushed Judith out of the way. She yanked, she tugged, she pulled, she swore. “You’re right. It’s stuck.” For good measure, she gave the door a hefty kick.

  It swung open, but Kenneth’s room also lay in darkness. Roscoe could be heard, stirring about in his cage.

  “There should be a candle around here,” Judith said, feeling her way across the small, round room. “Maybe by the fireplace.”

  “Forget the candle,” Renie said. “We can get out of here by following the wall next to the stairs. It’s only one floor.”

  Judith, however, was running her hand across the mantel. “You’re right. I can’t find a candle. But I found a coin. If it’s a penny, we’re in luck.”

  “Like Edna and her nonexistent pin? Come on,” Renie urged, “take my hand. I can see as well in the dark as I can in broad daylight. Let’s go.”

  Renie led Judith down one step at a time. The wind grew louder; something rattled and crashed outside. Judith almost fell over Renie, who had stopped when she’d heard the unexpected noise.

  Judith prodded Renie. “Keep moving.”

  “I can’t,” Renie said in a strange voice.

  “Why not?”

  Renie gulped. “There’s somebody standing in front of me.”

  Judith let out a little squeak, t
hen summoned up her courage. “Who’s there?” she called over Renie’s shoulder.

  The response materialized from out of the dark: “Pardon?”

  “Kenyon?” Renie gasped. “It’s us. Mrs. Flynn and Mrs. Jones.”

  “Pardon?” Kenyon repeated.

  “It’s the visitors,” Renie yelled.

  “Ah. I’ve been searching everywhere for you.” Kenyon’s soft, slow footsteps went before them. “Dinner is served.”

  Fumbling and stumbling, the cousins finally reached the parlor. Kenyon had disappeared, but a small pedestal table had been set with a half-dozen lighted tapers and several covered dishes.

  “Holy St. Joseph,” Renie exclaimed, collapsing into one of the matching chinoiserie armchairs. “I’m limp. Where’s what’s left of my bourbon?”

  Judith picked up both cocktail glasses from the mahogany and walnut credenza. “Drink up. We need to settle our nerves. What do you think is up there in that blasted tower?”

  Renie was still goggle-eyed. “Maybe Caroline’s right. It’s haunted.”

  “Don’t say that,” Judith retorted. “It won’t take much to convince me.”

  “The speaking tubes,” Renie said suddenly. “Could there be one on the staircase and somebody’s using it to scare us?”

  Between gulps of Scotch, Judith considered. “No. They’ve been removed. I noticed a place in Kenneth’s room where there used to be one, but it’s gone now. Besides, whoever brushed against my face didn’t come out of a speaking tube.”

  “No,” Renie said thoughtfully. “I guess not.”

  Judith tried to get a grip on her composure as she gazed around the parlor where the candles cast an eerie amber glow. “The power must be out all over the house. Maybe the whole area.”

  “Hardly surprising with all this wind,” Renie said, relaxing a bit and tasting her soup. “Remember the year cousin Sue was having Thanksgiving dinner and a big windstorm blew everything out? She tried to cook the turkey in her barbecue and set their deck on fire.”

  Buttering another of Dietz’s delicious rolls, Judith nodded. “That was too bad. It was a nice deck, though it didn’t have much of a view.”