He shut it quietly. Stepping around Larry, he went to the dining room. He brought one of the straight-backed chairs into the kitchen and tipped it against the door, bracing its back under the knob.
Then he motioned for Larry to follow.
They went from the kitchen to the foyer and silently climbed the stairs. Just off the hallway at the top was a large bedroom. They entered it, and Jud turned on its blue overhead light. Larry flinched, and slapped the hilt of his machete. Then he laughed quietly, nervously, ‘How exotic,’ he whispered.
Mirrors ran the length of the walls, and one was attached to the ceiling directly above the large bed. There were no blankets on the bed, only blue satin sheets.
As Larry knelt to look under the bed, Jud checked the closet. The hangers held nothing except robes and more than a dozen nightgowns. He pulled out one of the nightgowns and it filled with air, swaying as if it had no weight at all. Dainty pink bows at the shoulders and hips were all that connected the front and back of the gown. Through the sheer fabric, Jud could see Larry stepping over to the bureau. Jud put the nightgown away.
‘Oh dear!’ Larry muttered.
Jud rushed over to Larry. The open drawer held four pair of handcuffs. Looking in another drawer, he and Larry found a pile of steel chain with padlocks. In another was an assortment of bras and panties, garter belts, and nylons. Two of the drawers contained only leather: leather slacks and jackets, brief leather bikinis, vests, and gloves. From a hook at the side of the dresser hung a riding crop.
They shut all the drawers and left.
The bathroom smelled of disinfectant. They quickly searched it, finding nothing unusual except for the sunken bathtub. It was large, perhaps seven feet by four, with several metal rings fixed into the tile walls at head level.
‘What are those for?’ Larry asked.
Jud shrugged. ‘They look like handles.’
At the far end of the hall, they entered a small room with bookshelves, a desk, and a stuffed chair. By the blue overhead light, Jud made his way to a lamp behind the chair. He turned it on.
‘Ah, light,’ Larry whispered as white light filled the room. He began to inspect the book titles.
Jud checked the desktop, then the drawers. The drawer on the upper left was locked. Kneeling, he removed a leather case from his pocket. He took out a pick and tension bar, and worked on the lock. It gave him no trouble at all.
The drawer was empty except for a single leather-bound book. A strap with a lock held it shut like a diary. He quickly picked that lock and opened the book to its title page. ‘My Diary: Being a True Account of My Life and Most Private Affairs, Volume 12, in the year of our Lord 1903.’ The name beneath the inscription was Elizabeth Mason Thorn.
‘What do you have there?’ Larry asked.
‘The diary of Lilly Thorn.’
‘Good heavens!’
He thumbed through the pages. Three quarters of the way through, he found the final entry. August 2, 1903. ‘Last night, I waited until Ethel and the boys were asleep. Then I carried a length of rope down cellar.’ He shut the diary. ‘We’ll take it,’ he whispered. ‘Now let’s have a look in the other room and get out of here.’
The door of the room across the hallway was shut. Jud twisted the knob. He inched it open.
Larry clutched his arm.
From inside the room came a strange, windy sound. Jud listened closely, ear to the crack. He heard hisses, sighs, a blowing sound like the wind makes coming down a canyon. He silently closed the door.
When they got downstairs, Larry whispered, ‘That was the beast. It was in there sleeping.’
‘I think it was just Axel.’
‘Axel, my foot!’
‘But he wasn’t alone,’ Jud said.
‘Indeed not!’
‘I heard at least three people in that room. Let’s get out of here.’
‘Marvellous suggestion. I’m with you 100 per cent.’
Chapter Seventeen
The green, metal sign read, ‘WELCOME TO MALCASA POINT, pop. 400. Drive with care.’ Roy slowed down to 35 miles per hour.
He saw a dozen people lingering near a ticket booth in front of an old Victorian house. He glanced at the sign. Its red lettering wobbled and dripped like wet blood. BEAST HOUSE. He grinned, and wondered what the hell it was.
Slowing, he studied the faces of the people near the ticket booth. None looked at all like Donna or Sandy, not even with the changes six years might bring. He kept moving.
He watched the sidewalks for them; he watched the road and parking spaces for their car. A blue Ford Maverick, Karen had said. She wasn’t lying. At that point, she had been beyond lying.
When he saw a blue Maverick parked at a Chevron station, he couldn’t believe his luck. Karen had mentioned car trouble, but that shouldn’t take so long to repair: he’d expected Donna to have a day on him, at least.
He stopped beside a row of gas pumps. A skinny, sneering man approached his window. ‘Fill ’er up with Supreme,’ Roy said, and wondered if Supreme was what the Rolls took. He decided the gas jockey would’ve made a remark if it didn’t. The guy’d said nothing.
Roy climbed out. It felt good to stand and stretch. His jeans were still damp in the pockets. He scratched his itchy skin and stepped to the rear of the car.
‘That Maverick over there,’ he said. ‘It wouldn’t belong to a woman travelling with her daughter, would it?’
‘Might.’
‘The woman’s thirty-three, blond, a real fox. The kid’s twelve.’
The guy shrugged.
Roy pulled a ten-dollar bill from his wallet. The man eyed it for a moment, then took it and stuffed it into his shirt pocket.
‘What’s the woman’s name?’ Roy asked.
‘I can check.’
‘Is it Hayes? Donna Hayes?’
He nodded. ‘That’s her. I remember the Donna.’
‘And she had a kid with her?’
‘Little blond gal.’
‘How long you been working on the car?’
‘Couple days. We brought her in Monday morning. That’s yesterday. Busted radiator. We had to send over to Santa Rosa for a new one, just got it in.’
‘So they’re staying in town?’
‘I don’t know where else they’d be.’
‘Where are they?’
‘Only one motel. That’s the Welcome Inn, about a half mile up the road, on your right.’
Roy gave the man another five dollars. ‘That’s to keep your mouth shut.’
‘How come you’re looking for her?’
‘I’m her husband.’
‘Oh yeah?’ He laughed. ‘She run out on you?’
‘That’s right. And I’m aiming to fix her for that.’
‘Don’t blame you a bit. She’s a choice piece, that gal. I’d be pissing steam if she run out on me.’
Roy paid for the gas, then drove half a mile up the road. He saw the restaurant first, a rustic building shaded by evergreens. ‘Welcome Inn’s Carriage House. Fine Dining.’ A short distance beyond it was a coffee shop. Then a driveway led into a courtyard with about half a dozen cabins on each side. Just past the driveway entrance stood the motel office. The red tubing of the neon ‘Vacancy’ sign was lit.
Roy kept driving, suddenly nervous.
So close. He didn’t want to blow it, now. He needed time to think.
He drove up the road until he found a wide shoulder. There, he pulled off and shut down the engine. He checked his wristwatch. Nearly three-fifteen.
Donna’s car is at the Chevron station, he thought. Okay. If she picks it up today, she either leaves right away, or spends the night. If she leaves, she’ll drive past here. He could simply wait and stop her somehow.
What if she heads south? No, she wouldn’t do that. Not after making a beeline north like this.
Still, she might.
Or she might stay another night at the Inn.
That’d be easy enough to find out. Just check in the m
otel office. If she’s planning to stay over, she would’ve registered by now.
He couldn’t check the office, though. She might find out.
Well, not necessarily. He could go to the office, get her cabin number, and drive right to her door before she had a chance to find out anything, take precautions, call the cops. He could bust in, grab her and the kid, get out before anyone knows what hit.
Not a chance. People would see. There’d be cops after them so quick . . .
Why take them anywhere? Just go in, shut them up, and stay inside. Plenty of privacy. Even beds. Stay as long as he felt like it.
What if they’re out?
If they’re out, they might ask at the office, and find out he’d been there asking.
‘Shit,’ he muttered, seeing his plan fall apart.
Okay, getting the number from the office is out. That leaves one way to learn which cabin is theirs: stake the place out. Watch for them.
He spent a few moments wondering about the best way to keep watch on the cabins, then climbed out of the car. He took his pack from the back seat and slipped his arms through the straps. Then he opened the trunk. Joni was conscious. He lifted her out by the arms.
They walked along the roadside until Roy saw the office of the Welcome Inn about fifty yards ahead. Then he led Joni into the trees. The twigs and pine cones of the forest floor hurt her bare feet, and she started to cry.
‘Stop that.’
‘It hurts.’
‘Do you want me to carry you?’
She nodded.
Roy grinned, remembering how she’d refused a similar offer, just last night. Maybe she was beginning to trust him. He bent down. She wrapped an arm around the back of his neck, as if she’d had a lot of practice. Roy hooked one arm under her back and the other behind her knees. He lifted, and began to walk with her through the trees.
He enjoyed carrying Joni this way. She was light enough so it caused little strain. Her arm reaching around his neck seemed almost friendly, though he knew she only did it for her own security. Her face was close to his. With a slight forward shift of his head, he could brush his cheek against the softness of her hair. The backs of her legs were bare against his right arm. As he walked, he caressed the velvety side of her thigh. Her free hand made no effort to stop him.
Soon a row of cabins came into view. They were painted like redwood, with slanted roofs. They had windows in back, but no doors.
Staying far away from the cabins, Roy worked his way past the end one. A break in the trees gave him a view of the parking area. It curved slightly southwards between the cabins. From its angle, he figured that the windows of the nearest cabin on the left should give him a view of all the other cabin fronts.
He made a wide sweep through the woods, and came up directly behind it. He grinned. The angle of the cabin’s rear side shielded it from the other cabins. He set Joni on to her feet.
‘What are you doing?’ she whispered.
Whispered. He liked that.
‘I’m getting us a place to stay.’
The window sill was level with Roy’s head. The window was shut.
‘I’m gonna lift you up,’ he whispered. ‘Tell me who’s inside.’ He put down his backpack and patted his shoulder.
Joni climbed on to his shoulders. She held the top of his head. Gripping her knees, Roy slowly stood until her eyes were level with the bottom of the window.
‘Closer,’ she said. She leaned forward, thighs pressing the sides of his head. Hands cupped to her eyes, she peered into the window screen. ‘Higher,’ she whispered.
He raised her. ‘Who’s there?’
‘Nobody.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Huh?’
‘Is anyone there?’
‘No.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘Yes.’
He lowered her to the ground, and she climbed off. ‘You’re not lying, are you?’
‘I don’t tell lies,’ she said solemnly.
‘OK. You’d better not.’
‘I’m hungry.’
‘We’ll eat when we get inside.’
‘What?’
‘I’ve got lots of stuff in the pack. But first we have to get in there.’
‘How?’
He didn’t answer. He led her to the right side of the cabin. There were two windows on the side, but they could be seen from the cabin across the parking area. He didn’t want to chance being seen. They returned to the single rear window.
He could only get in by breaking it.
That would mean noise.
What were the alternatives? He could walk to the door of an occupied cabin, knock, and knife his way in. Someone might see him, though. And if he screwed it up there might be a scream. That’d be worse, by far, than a little breaking glass.
Maybe he should go under the cabin and watch for Donna from there. Kneeling, he looked into the crawlspace under the elevated floor. It was a couple of feet high. Plenty of room. He ought to have a good view from the front.
It would be filthy, though. All kinds of bugs and spiders. Slugs. Maybe even rats. No telling how long he would have to wait: maybe hours. And what would he do with Joni? The hell with that.
With his knife, he pried loose the two lower clamps of the window screen. He worked the screen loose and propped it against the wall.
Reaching into the pack, he took out his flashlight. ‘OK,’ he said, ‘onto my shoulders.’
Joni climbed on.
Roy handed the flashlight to her. He straightened up. ‘See up there? Where the window ends?’
‘Here?’ She pointed to the wood crossbeam at the bottom of the upper window.
‘Right. Break the glass just above that, then you can undo the latch. Use the end of the flashlight. Hit it hard.’
‘Here?’
‘A little more to the left.’
‘Here?’
‘Yeah. Now hit it hard so it breaks the first time.’
Holding him across the forehead with one hand, she swung. Roy heard the loud slam of the flashlight striking glass. The glass didn’t break. ‘Hard!’ he muttered. ‘Hit it hard! Hard as you can.’ He waited. ‘Go ahead, damn it!’
The flashlight crashed down on his head. Again. Again. Pain streaked through his skull. He put a hand up. The flashlight struck his fingers.
Ducking, he rammed Joni into the wall. She cried out and dropped the flashlight. Roy reached up. He grabbed her blouse and tugged. The girl tumbled over his head. Her back slammed the ground.
‘Hey!’
Roy looked towards the corner. A teenage girl stood there, holding towels in her arms.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ she demanded. She sounded more angry than afraid.
In an instant, Roy had his knife out. He pressed it to Joni’s belly. ‘I’m gonna kill this little girl if you don’t come over here.’
‘You wouldn’t dare.’
‘Run or yell, and I’ll gut her like a catfish.’
The girl began to shake her head. ‘You’re sick,’ she said.
‘Come here.’
With short, hesitant steps, the girl began to approach him. Her eyes watched him closely, as if trying to figure him out.
He watched how the late-afternoon breeze ruffled her hair. He watched how her small breasts jiggled seductively inside her white T-shirt. He watched her lean, tanned legs.
‘What’re you doing here?’ he asked.
‘I might ask you the same thing.’
‘Just answer.’
‘I own the place.’
‘You?’
‘My family.’
‘Then you’ve got keys,’ he said, and grinned.
Chapter Eighteen
1.
Over the sound of the television, Donna heard a car drive up. Sandy looked at her, worried. Putting down the newspaper, Donna climbed off the bed and went to the window. A dark green Chrysler pulled to a stop just outside the door. ‘It’s Jud and Larry,’ she
said. She opened the door for them.
‘Any sign of him?’ Jud asked.
Donna shook her head. ‘No. How’d you do?’
‘Not too bad.’
‘Not too bad, indeed!’ said Larry. ‘We got away scot-free, slick as thieves, and cast your eyes on this.’ He waved a leather-bound book. ‘This is the diary of Lilly Thorn. Her own words. Good heavens, what a find!’ He went to the edge of the bed and sat down beside Sandy. ‘How was your afternoon, my little lady bug?’
Donna turned to Jud. ‘Did you find the beast suit?’
‘No.’
‘What about Mary Ziegler’s body?’
‘Not that, either. There were a couple of places we couldn’t search, though.’
‘Did someone come back?’
‘No. One of the rooms was already occupied, and we didn’t check the cellar becuase there was a light down there.’
‘Then somebody was home?’
‘Several somebodies, by the looks of it.’
‘There’s only Maggie, Axel, and Wick,’ she said.
‘And two were over at Beast House running the tours.’
‘So who was in the house?’
‘Axel, I suppose. And at least two others.’
‘But who?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘That’s a little spooky.’
‘Yeah. I wasn’t too happy about it, myself.’
They sat on the side of Jud’s bed. ‘What was the house like?’ Donna asked.
She listened closely, intrigued by what he told her of the blue lights, the living room with no furniture except pillows, the bathtub with its strange handles. Most of all, she was fascinated by the bedroom.
‘You wouldn’t think Maggie Kutch was the type. And Hapson! That guy’s an old weasel. It’s hard to picture them making love at all, much less under mirrors. The bondage part I’ll buy, though. The sadism. Did you see the look on his face when he went after Mary Ziegler with his belt?’
Jud nodded.
‘I always thought they were a bunch of sickoes. I mean, you have to be, don’t you, living on tours of a place like Beast House?’
2
Except for a half-hour walk up a hill that overlooked the ocean, they spent the afternoon in Cabin 12. Larry read the diary in less than an hour, at times shaking his head in disbelief, and muttering. Sandy watched television. Donna sat next to the window with Jud.
The Complete Beast House Chronicles Page 15