Edgewise

by Graham Masterton

  She went back downstairs. Tasha was kneeling in front of the fire, prodding it with the poker, so that sparks flurried up the chimney.

  “Do I have to go to Daddy’s funeral?” she asked.

  “Not if you don’t want to.”

  “I want to forget about him. I want to forget about everything that happened.”

  Lily sat on the hearthrug next to her. “You shouldn’t forget him completely. He was your father, after all. He did love you.” She hadn’t yet told Tasha about the men from FLAME, and how they had tried to burn her alive. She didn’t know if she ever would. Her last memory of her father was traumatic enough, without thinking that he had wanted to kill her mother, too.

  Tasha said, “I still don’t understand what killed him. I keep trying to remember what it looked like, but it didn’t really look like anything. It didn’t look like a man and it didn’t look like an animal. And it made this hissing noise.”

  “You were in shock. People see some very strange things when they’re in shock.”

  “It had arms like a kind of insect. Daddy came into the den and said did we want to go swimming and I don’t think he even saw it. It took hold of his head and pulled it straight up, and there was this horrible tearing sound.”

  Tasha stared at Lily and her eyes were filled with desperation. Jeff’s death had been horrific, and she should never have had to witness it. But what was obviously disturbing her the most was the fact that she couldn’t understand what the Wendigo was, or why it had killed him. Lily put her arm around her, and held her close. God, she thought, I’m her mother and I can’t tell her what really happened.

  The next morning both children slept late. At nine-fifteen Lily was sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee and trying to finish the cryptic crossword in the Star Tribune when she was startled by a sharp rappety-rap-rap! at the window.

  She looked up. It was John Shooks, wearing a huge black fur hat, and mirror sunglasses. He was pointing to the back door. Lily got up, unlocked it and let him in. He was accompanied by a northwest wind as sharp as a faceful of box cutters.

  “Unsuccessfully tried to ring your doorbell,” he explained. “Guess it must have froze.”

  “The forecast said twelve below,” said Lily. “How about a cup of coffee?”

  “Never drink coffee—makes me jumpy; but thanks anyhow.”

  He took off his hat but left his sunglasses on. Lily said, “I was going to call you this morning and tell you my news.”

  “That’s all right. I heard about it already. Nothing much gets past John Shooks.”

  “You’ll know about my ex-husband then.”

  “Yes. Yes, I do.” He wiped his nose on his glove. “Don’t suppose you’re grieving about it too much.”

  “Oh, you don’t think so?”

  “Considering what that man tried to have done to you, Mrs. Blake . . .”

  “That’s not really the point. It wasn’t up to me to be judge and executioner, was it? It was up to the law. And Jeff was the children’s father, whatever he was guilty of.”

  Shooks raised his eyebrows, so that they appeared over his sunglasses like two rooks, but said nothing.

  Lily said, “I’m upset, as a matter of fact. I’m very upset. Jeff was selfish, and pig-headed, and he could be cruel, too. But he still didn’t deserve to be killed like that.”

  “Well . . . it’s a little late to be worrying about that now. What’s irrevocably torn to pieces is irrevocably torn to pieces.”

  Lily went to the kitchen drawer and took out her checkbook. “How much do you want, Mr. Shooks?”

  “Two twenty-five, if that’s all right with you.”

  “Two twenty-five is fine.”

  She sat at the table and began to fill out the check. As she did so, Shooks said, “I’m going to need the deed for that piece of land, too, so that I can take it to George Iron Walker.”

  Lily signed the check, tore it out, and held it out to him. “I’m sorry. George Iron Walker won’t be getting any land. I asked him to find my children, not kill my ex-husband.”

  “You’re serious?”

  “I’m very serious.”

  Shooks sucked in his breath. “This is going to be more than a little difficult, Mrs. Blake. See—the deal was, George Iron Walker was to find your children for you, and make sure that they were fetched back to you safe and sound. In return for that service you would hand over the title to that piece of land at Mystery Lake. Whatever the circumstances, you can’t deny that George Iron Walker fulfilled his part of the bargain.”

  “Mr. Shooks, if I had known that the Wendigo was going to slaughter two people, I never would have considered that deal, not for a moment. George Iron Walker misled me, and I told him so right to his face.”

  “Yes. He mentioned that you’d paid him a visit.”

  “So, that’s it. That’s the end of it. Take your money, and I hope that I never need your services, ever again.”

  Shooks took the check, folded it lengthwise, and tucked it inside his coat. But he made no move to leave.

  “Is there anything else?” Lily asked him. Shooks was making her feel breathless and hyped up, as if she had been playing a hard game of raquets. “Tasha and Sammy will be down in a minute, for their breakfast. I don’t really want to have to explain to them who you are.”

  “Mrs. Blake, this is serious. You promised that piece of land to George Iron Walker, and believe me, he’s not going to let you renege on that promise.”

  “So what’s he going to do? Take me to court? Let him try.”

  “He doesn’t need to take you to court, Mrs. Blake. He has Hazawin.”

  “And what can she do?”

  “It’s more like what she can’t do. A woman who can raise the Wendigo can turn your whole life into a nightmare.”

  Lily said, “I’m not going to give George Iron Walker that piece of land, Mr. Shooks. He made me an unwilling accessory to two violent homicides, and he deprived my children of their father, whom they loved. They saw him killed right in front of their eyes. They saw his head torn off his shoulders. How can I reward George Iron Walker for doing a thing like that?”

  “Mrs. Blake—you listen to me—I’m giving you the gravest of warnings.”

  “Well, thank you, Mr. Shooks. I appreciate it. But I’m still not going to change my mind. If you want to go back to George Iron Walker and tell him that the deal is well and truly off, that’s your prerogative. But I’m not even going to bother. As far as I’m concerned, he deceived me, and I don’t think I’m obliged to honor any kind of agreement with a liar.”

  From the upstairs landing, Sammy called out, “Mom! Where did you put my Vikings sweatshirt?”

  “Just a minute!” Lily called back. She turned to Shooks and said, “I think you’d better leave now.”

  Shooks looked at Lily for a very long time. She could see herself in duplicate, reflected in his sunglasses.

  “Okay,” he said at last. “But I have to tell you this: I’m walking away from here with a heavy heart.”

  “Don’t worry, Mr. Shooks. I think I’m quite capable of taking care of myself.”

  John Shooks put on his hat and opened the back door. The wind blew in, and Lily’s newspaper flew up off the table like a seagull, or a pelican.

  After breakfast Lily drove them over to Wayzata to see Agnes and Ned. Petra and Jamie were at school, but little William was at home, and Tasha and Sammy took him out into the yard to build a snow house. They laughed and screamed and threw snowballs as if nothing had happened to them.

  “We’ll still be seeing snow in May,” Ned predicted, watching the children through the living-room window.

  “Oh, God, I hope not,” said Lily.

  “You only have to look at this season’s statistics. Those green people keep yattering on about global warming, but they’re talking through their knitted hats. It’s all a conspiracy to get government funding.”

  “Ned’s convinced that we’re in for a second Ice Age
,” Agnes put in.

  They sat down, and Agnes passed around coffee and toll-house cookies.

  “Are the kids okay?” asked Ned.

  “I think so. They slept all night last night, but of course they were both exhausted. It’s the weeks to come that I’m worried about.”

  “Are you going to take them to a therapist?”

  “They’ll probably need it. At the moment they seem so calm about it, you know? So matter-of-fact. But seeing Jeff killed like that—I’m sure that it must have caused them some psychological trauma.”

  Ned brushed cookie crumbs out of his moustache. “Any more news on who might have done it?”

  “Nothing. Apart from Tasha and Sammy, nobody saw anything.”

  “Well, you know that I never liked Jeff much,” said Agnes. “He was always too darn sorry for himself. But I can’t imagine why anybody would have wanted to kill him. I mean—to rip somebody apart like that—you would really have to hate them, wouldn’t you?”

  “Nothing was stolen?” asked Ned.

  Lily shook her head.

  “Maybe it was something to do with those FLAME people he was mixed up with. One of them was torn apart, too, wasn’t he? Maybe Jeff was threatening to blow the whistle on them, about burning those women.”

  “I really don’t know,” said Lily.

  Ned took a bite of cookie. “The only other person I can think of who would have had a motive for killing Jeff is you.”

  Lily managed a tight smile, but Agnes said, “Ned. Not funny, Ned. Not funny at all.”

  As she drove home, her cell phone warbled. It was Bennie.

  “Lily! Fiona told me that you got Tasha and Sammy back! Terrific news!”

  “Well, it wasn’t exactly a picnic. But, yes, they’re home. And they’re both okay.”

  “So who found them? Don’t tell me your Native American tracker lucked out?”

  “It’s kind of complicated. I don’t know whether you heard, but Jeff’s dead.”

  “Dead? Are you serious? What happened?”

  Lily glanced at Tasha, who was sitting next to her. “I’ll explain it to you later. I’m driving right now.”

  “Well, call me later. I can come around to see you, if you like.”

  “Maybe we can take a raincheck for a couple of days, Bennie. Tasha and Sammy need a little time to settle.”

  “Sure, whatever you say. So—it wasn’t your Native American tracker who found them?”

  “Like I say, it’s complicated. But we don’t have to give him that spit of land at Mystery Lake.”

  “We don’t? You really mean that? That’s going to make life a whole lot easier. Listen, I’ll call you again this evening, if that’s okay.”

  Lily drew up at the intersection of France and Lake. The sky was a strange purplish color, like a widening bruise.

  “How about pizza tonight?” she asked Tasha and Sammy.

  Tasha said, “No—no thanks. Daddy was always bringing home pizza.”

  “With pineapple on,” Sammy put in. “I hate pineapple.”

  At one-fifteen in the morning, Lily heard a piercing scream, and then another. She threw herself out of bed and was halfway across the landing before she was properly awake.

  “Sammy! It’s okay, honey, Mommy’s coming!”

  She collided with Tasha, who was just coming out of her room, white-faced. They hurried together into Sammy’s room. Sammy was standing on his bed with both hands covering his face. He was juddering and sweating and he had soaked his pajama pants.

  “Sammy! It’s Mommy! Everything’s okay! You had a nasty dream, that’s all!”

  Sammy took his hands away from his face and stared at her. He looked almost mad. Lily took him tightly in her arms and shushed him.

  “You had a nasty dream, baby, that’s all. It wasn’t real.”

  “It—was—nobody,” Sammy quaked. “He—came—through—the—door—but—he—wasn’t—”

  “Come on, baby. Everything’s going to be fine. Why don’t we get you out of these pajamas and change your bed for you?”

  “He—came—through—the—door—and—he’s—here!”

  “He’s not here, Sammy, I promise you.”

  Tasha came up to him, too, and brushed back his wet, tousled hair. “He’s not here, Sammy. He doesn’t know where we live, and he’s never going to find out.”

  But Sammy turned to her, wide-eyed, and screamed, “He’s here! I know he is! He’s come after us! He’s here!”

  Lily picked Sammy up and helped him into a sitting position on the side of the bed. He had stopped screaming now, but he was moaning and muttering, and his eyes kept rolling up into his head, so that Lily could only see the whites.

  “Tasha—I think you’d better call nine-one-one. He’s having a fit.”

  Tasha had only just reached the door, however, when Sammy dropped sideways on to his pillow. Lily said, “Sammy! Sammy! Can you hear me? Sammy!” She pulled back one of his eyelids and his eye was staring back at her, fluttering slightly. She leaned over him. He was breathing evenly and his heartbeat was steady.

  “He’s asleep.”

  She laid a hand on his forehead and although it was sweaty his temperature felt normal.

  “Forget about the ambulance. I think he’s okay. It was a night terror, that’s all. Can you fetch me some clean pajamas out of his drawer? I’ll freshen him up and change him and he can come sleep in my bed.”

  Tasha said, “You don’t think he really saw something, do you?”

  “Of course not. What happened to your daddy, that was all the way down in Florida, and whoever killed him, they’re not going to come looking for you. Besides, he said it was nobody. And how can anybody see nobody?”

  “I guess,” said Tasha. She gave Lily a kiss on the cheek and went back to her bedroom. But when Lily woke up at seven-twenty the following morning, she found Sammy sprawled on one side of her, with his mouth open; and Tasha on the other side, buried deep in the comforter, so that only a few wisps of brunette hair peeped out.

  After breakfast they drove down to the Mall of America in Bloomington, so that Lily could buy them both the new coats and sweaters that she had promised them in October, before they were kidnapped. She let Sammy ride on the indoor roller coaster at Camp Snoopy, and she took Tasha into Bloomingdale’s and bought her a new pink corduroy skirt and some jingly silver bracelets.

  Afterward they had lunch at Ruby Tuesday’s. Tasha said that she had decided to become a vegetarian, so she asked for the salad plate. Lily didn’t argue. Sammy wanted the Ultimate Colossal Burger, but Lily vetoed that. “You’re going to eat a whole pound of beef, with two kinds of cheese? I don’t think so.” In the end he chose the hickory chicken breast and Lily ordered crab cakes.

  They were still eating when Lily glanced across the restaurant and saw George Iron Walker standing by the door, wearing a short black leather coat, and a black wide-brimmed hat with a braided leather band around it. He was staring at her, stone-faced, his hands forced deep into his pockets. Several people jostled past him, including two of the waitresses, but he didn’t move out of the way. He simply stood there, staring.

  Lily slowly lowered the forkful of crab cake that she was just about to put in her mouth.

  Tasha frowned at her and said, “Mommy? What is it?”

  Lily didn’t know if she ought to get up and talk to George Iron Walker, or whether she ought to ignore him.

  “Mommy? Are you okay? I was telling you about the time we went to Key West.”

  “What?”

  “You haven’t been listening, have you?”

  “Yes, sweetheart, of course I’ve been listening. You went on a boat and saw dolphins.”

  She put down her fork. She stared back at George Iron Walker, challenging him to come over and talk to her. If you have something to say to me, then say it. George Iron Walker stayed where he was for another ten seconds or so, and then turned around and walked out of the restaurant. Lily thought she glimpsed Hazawin
, too, in her ankle-length sheepskin coat with the beads and the embroidery, but the mall was very crowded and she couldn’t be sure.

  “Are you all right, Mommy?” asked Sammy. “Don’t you like your crab cakes?”

  “No, sweetheart, they’re terrific. I suddenly remembered something I forgot to do, that’s all. Come on, eat up. That chicken looks great.”

  After lunch they went to Sears so that Lily could buy some new table napkins, and then—as it grew dark, and the temperature began to plummet—they drove home. Sammy fell asleep in the backseat, so that when they arrived outside the house, Lily had to reach around and shake him.

  “Come on, Rip van Winkle! Time to wake up!”

  As they climbed out of the Rainier, Tasha said, “What’s that smell?”

  Lily sniffed, and sniffed again, and then looked up. Acrid brown smoke was pouring from the chimney, and swirling around the side of the house. It smelled like burning hair. Oh God, she thought. I hope a spark hasn’t jumped out of the fire and set the couch alight.

  “Just wait up,” she told Tasha and Sammy. “I have to check this out first.”

  She pushed her way through the snow-covered privet hedge in front of the living-room window and peered inside. Two of the table lamps were lit, because she kept them connected to a timer, and she could see that the room was hazy with smoke. But she couldn’t see any flames, and the fireguard was still in place. Maybe a crow had flown down the chimney and blocked up the flue. It had happened before, only a few days after they had first moved in, and it had cost them nearly $400 to have it cleared.

  She unlocked the front door, very cautiously. If there was a fire burning in the living room, she didn’t want to feed it with a sudden draft. She slipped through the narrowest gap she could manage and immediately closed the door behind her.

  The smell in the hallway was appalling, and she retched. It was much worse than burning hair: it was charred meat. Lily coughed, and coughed, and pulled out her handkerchief to cover her nose and mouth. With her eyes watering, she punched out the alarm code on the panel beside the door, and then she crossed the hallway and hurried into the living room.

  She looked around. None of the furniture was smoldering, nor was the hearthrug nor any of the drapes. The smoke was rolling into the room from the fireplace, which appeared to be crowded with many more logs than she had stacked on to it herself. She always left the fire very low whenever she went out—just enough to keep the embers glowing.