The House Guest

by Rosa Sophia

  “And you, Katherine. Watch out for yourself, first. I’m just an old blind guy. No one’s going to miss me.”

  “I will. I really am going to try and find those Braille playing cards for you. And I will come visit you.”

  Frank forced a smile. “Again, thank you. But first we have to think about survival, not poker. Can you think of anyone you might have seen watching you? Maybe snooping around?”

  “No.” Kat frowned. “But there was one thing. Something I found by Jonathan’s body. It was a note.”

  “What did it say?”

  “Wait—I’ve been carrying it around in case I find out who wrote it.” She stood up and dug into her pocket, then pulled out a piece of paper. She unfolded it and read it for what felt like the billionth time. “It’s about calling a woman named Millie on Friday. It has a phone number.”

  “Did you call it?”

  “I did. Her name is Millie Rosaro. She’s a secretary who works for a couple of lawyers, one that I know—Allen Ryman. The other guy, I don’t know his first name, but his last is Dunne. They must have the same office, because the secretary said both their last names as part of the title.”

  “I know Allen Ryman too. He was Phillip and Julie’s lawyer. They hired him in 1990 when Phillip had a bad car crash. They had to go to court because the other driver wouldn’t admit it was his fault. It took them almost two years to settle and by then, Allen and Phillip were good friends.”

  “You’re kidding me. I knew he was their lawyer, but I didn’t know he was close with Phillip.”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised if Ryman had changed his mind. Most people hate Phillip once they get to know him.”

  “I have to find out who’s involved in all this. Wish me luck, Frank. I have to talk to my grandfather soon,” Kat said, thrusting the paper back in her pocket. She glanced at her watch and her eyes grew wide. “Shit, Corry’s gonna kill me. I’ve been up here for almost an hour.”

  Kat went over to Frank and wrapped her arms around him. He smiled.

  “Thanks, Frankie. I’m sorry about everything. But I’m really starting to like you,” she said. To her surprise, he laughed.

  “Frankie—that’s what Jacob used to call me.”

  “I see.” Kat kissed him on the forehead and squeezed his hand. “Call me if you get scared, okay?” Frank nodded. He knew what she really meant. If he felt threatened in any way, he should call her. A moment later, she was out the door.

  ***

  When Kat arrived in the lobby, she found Corry reclining in a comfortable chair, reading a paperback. “What in the world were you two talking about?”

  “Lots of things. Come on, let’s go.” Kat glanced at her watch again. “I guess we don’t have time to stop by Phillip’s nursing home. I can do that tomorrow.”

  “You don’t want to see him. If you did, you would have by now,” Corry noted as they walked out into the parking lot.

  “Yeah, I know. But I have to see him eventually and it may as well be before I get arrested for murder.” She felt Corry grab her arm. The two girls stopped walking and Kat turned to her.

  “Are you going to be okay?”

  “I guess so.” Kat shrugged. “I have to admit I’m really worried about purposely visiting the man who tried to kill me. I watched him kill his own son, Cor. What if he tries to kill me again?”

  “And what if he’s just as delusional as they say he is?” Corry put her arm around her as the two of them walked back to the car. “What if he really has lost his mind? I think they’re right, Kat. I think he probably has lost his mind. If you can clear Stark’s name, that’s fine. But I doubt you’ll be able to condemn an old man who’s practically a vegetable.”

  They got in the car and drove back to Corry’s house.

  Upon entering the living room, they were greeted by Jake’s snores as he slept on the couch. Jonny ran to the door to meet them and Kat fed the dog. She read for an hour and took a nap.

  It was probably because of pure exhaustion that she was actually able to sleep. She hadn’t done so in what felt like the longest time. Then again, maybe she had drifted off more than once, too tired to even remember it.

  ***

  Kat stared at herself in the mirror for several long seconds. She had just showered and her blond hair wasn’t braided yet. She had wiped the fog off the glass and noted the tired bags under her eyes and the way her skin had broken out in some places because she’d just stopped caring. It was her eyes that frightened her the most, the way she could see so much horror in them, so many memories, all from the last three months.

  When Jake’s image appeared in the mirror, Kat felt her body jump.

  “You okay?” he asked. She turned around and fell against him. He wrapped his arms around her nude form and kissed her shoulder.

  “My hair doesn’t smell anymore.”

  “How is that a bad thing?” Jake chuckled and leaned back so he could see Kat’s fleeting grin.

  “It’s not.” She took her towel and wrapped it around her dripping hair, then went into the bedroom. Jonny opened one eye from his spot in the corner, then went back to sleep.

  “There’re barely any want-ads in the paper. You’d think with my degree that I’d be able to get somewhere in life,” Jake complained.

  “Everything will be all right.”

  Jake raised his eyebrows and gaped at her. “I am amazed at how you’re able to hold yourself together.”

  “It’s nothin’,” she insisted. She lay back on the bed and enjoyed the temporary feeling of being completely naked. Inside, Katherine was crying.

  Chapter 10

  Jonny

  Kat took the dog with her for company when she left to visit the nursing home. Corry had gone to work and Kat was in desperate need of someone to talk to. Jonny jumped into the front seat and sat erect, panting and looking out the windshield as they turned onto 611.

  He was a good dog with a mild temperament. As they drove, he watched the world fly by and glanced over at Katherine occasionally, with eyes that said he could see her pain. When she told him to quit it, he whined. It was like a cry for the victims of the universe, for all those who had died pointlessly. For Jonathan Stark, and for John Maslin, the boy who had been murdered because he was different.

  The murder flashed before her eyes. She thought of John’s head, split in two on the floor of the barn. In her mind, she could see his blank gaze, two eyes in a broken skull, staring toward the sky—as though he’d been looking for Heaven just before he’d died.

  It was a strange thing, Kat thought, when mortals died with that look on their face. The expression said they were searching for the other side and had been moments before their death. Even though John should have never died that day, he had still been ready to move into the next state of being, like a caterpillar about to become a monarch butterfly.

  Katherine could see her grandfather, clear as day, holding that bloodied axe. How had he gotten away with it? Kat could hear Phillip’s well thought out words in her mind—“What, John? Oh, he’s been with us for eight years or so. But money’s been getting tight, so he went back to live with Kay. I mean, what can you do? Sometimes, there are just one too many mouths to feed.” She could hear his laughter, smell the pipe tobacco clouding around him like a thick disease. He was there, right beside her.

  Kat shrieked and slammed on the brakes at a stop sign. She felt her body press as far to the left as it could. Her wide eyes turned to the seat beside her where she expected Phillip to be.

  Kat’s heart was pounding, but she was relieved when she saw Jonny sitting there. How had she forgotten the dog was there? His wide brown eyes, so calm and kind, were looking right at her with a blank yet comfortable expression. He had no collar, and his black fur rumpled over his neck and continued softly down his back.

  “Holy shit,” she muttered. “You scared the hell out of me.” Jonny cocked his head, tongue hanging out. She was glad she had taken him with her. If she hadn’t, she might ha
ve really seen a ghost, sitting there in the empty passenger seat, staring at her with empty, dark sockets.

  But what would she do when she saw Phillip? She could see the nursing home from here, a bland building with a bike path circling the property and badly cared for gardens wilting everywhere. Somewhere in there, a murderer dwelt. Crazy or not, he had still ended at least one life. Regardless of whether or not Kat could prove that others had died by his hand, he had still killed John. One way or another, she would avenge the death of at least one innocent.

  “I won’t be long,” she said, patting Jonny after she parked the car. “I’ll leave the windows half open for you, how does that sound?” The dog licked her face in reply.

  Kat didn’t normally carry a purse, but she had one today. It was a small and made of black leather. She was wearing torn jeans and an old t-shirt. If she had ever dressed in a feminine way before, the only instance she could think of was when she’d worn her grandmother’s housedresses. Before she jumped out of the car, she reached in her purse, pushed past her wallet, and grabbed for the small black device at the bottom. She pulled out the tape recorder. She made sure everything was ready, and then put the recorder back in her purse. She wasn’t sure it would work, since it was so muffled, but it was certainly worth a try.

  “Wish me luck, Jonny.” The dog whined as he watched Kat cross the parking lot, one hand poised over her purse.

  As odd as it was, she felt as though she were traveling back in time.

  ***

  When Kat stepped into the nursing home, she knew why Frank had so adamantly said he couldn’t stand old people. The front room appeared to be a recreation area. There wasn’t a young person in sight, aside from Katherine. People were sitting around or milling about, holding onto walkers or wheelchairs. Those that could walk went slowly. Some of them mumbled to themselves as they moved and others completely ignored the young woman at the front door.

  As Kat walked toward the front desk, she was greeted with wide smiles and greetings. It was like a prison beyond those ugly walls, a place where old folks were shut off from the rest of the world.

  In here, they were children again. Nearby, a nurse was speaking loudly with one of the residents and the man, who looked to be in his late eighties, eventually responded with, “I can hear you, goddamn it!”

  Kat said hello to the receptionist. “I’m looking for my grandfather, Phillip Maslin.”

  The plump dark haired woman beamed happily. “You’re the one who’s been in the papers!”

  “Where’s Phillip?” Kat repeated tiredly.

  “He’s usually always in his room. I assume you know he has dementia, and he doesn’t always know where he is, unfortunately. Anyway, he’s in room three-thirteen.” She pointed to her right. “Down the hall and to the left. You can’t miss it.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Sure.” The receptionist beamed again and returned to her paperwork.

  This was it—the moment she was dreading. Kat shivered as she walked down the hallway. A few of the residents said hello to her. She could feel her heart pounding, her hands shaking and that familiar terror as it bunched up in her chest. Her feet kept taking her down the hall. The room to the door was shut. She hesitated, and then knocked with her right hand. She delved into her purse and pressed the record button on the small device she had with her.

  There was no answer, so she knocked again. Hearing footsteps behind her, she turned. The drag of a walker followed the shuffling of feet. A short lady with curly white hair and a broad smile had stopped beside her.

  “You won’t get him to come to the door, you know,” she said. Kat turned to face her. “He just sits there all day. You have to go in, dear. Otherwise, he’ll never notice you. He’ll be happy to see you, I’m sure. He doesn’t seem to have much of a family.” The lady smiled, and continued on her way.

  “Thank you,” Kat said. Then she turned and opened the door.

  Once she was in the small, white room, it was hard to remember that civilization lay behind her. She was in a different realm. She had to keep reminding herself that he couldn’t hurt her here, in this time. He was an old man whose mind had been left carelessly with one of the passing years, like a ragged hand-me-down in the back of a dusty closet.

  There was a cramped alcove at the entrance. To the left, a bathroom door was half open. The room was normal and modern enough, but it didn’t comfort Kat in the least. She could still see the murder, blood pooling on the floor of the barn. And right there, beside the crumpled body, the image of her grandfather, his lips twisting upward into a sinister smile.

  This was why she hadn’t been able to sleep at night, why she’d practically been living on coffee and it was also why, when she did sleep, she could only dream of death, just like one of the old people who knew that it was right around the corner.

  She saw him sitting there. The chair was high-backed, wooden and straight. She didn’t know how he could possibly be comfortable in it. There were wisps of gray hair on the back of his head, combed neatly. He was staring out the window and onto the property, watching everything, as though he were a bird of prey surveying the hunting grounds. He didn’t move or flinch when the door to his room closed.

  A moment later, she was standing several feet behind him, trembling.

  “Phillip, can you hear me?” He said nothing. It was like a nightmare, the way he sat there staring into nothingness. She sat down on the edge of his bed. Now she could see the side of his face, wrinkled and weathered from years of farming. He blinked, and then coughed. Kat jumped.

  “I hear you.” His voice was like a croak, as though he hadn’t used it in years. “Go lock the door.” Kat stood and did as he had told her. When she returned, she didn’t sit on the bed again. She waited. It was obvious that Phillip’s presence here was nothing more than an elaborate cover-up.

  Then he rose, slowly. Kat’s body shook. Phillip looked straight at her. For a moment, he seemed as though he were about to kill her. Then he turned, picked up his chair and set it down again so that it was facing the bed. He sunk into his chair and gestured to the mattress.

  “Have a seat, Katherine.”

  She slumped on the white covers and gulped, trying to swallow the terror that was almost blocking her windpipe. Phillip looked pretty much the same except for the wrinkles, the missing hair and the way his body had come so close to giving up on him. Kat felt her muscles tighten and her chest heave in fear. She didn’t say a word.

  “I didn’t think I would ever see you again,” Phillip continued. There was genuine surprise in those pale and watery blue eyes. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”

  Even if she could think of the words, she knew there was no way they would come out of her mouth. She felt as though her lips had been sewn shut.

  “I found out where you came from when I beat it out of David.” Phillip’s voice was gruff and careless. “I was a bit reluctant to let you have the house, of course, but Julie and I decided it was best to keep the property in the family. We knew you were our granddaughter when your mother brought you by. You probably don’t remember.”

  Phillip leaned forward. “I yelled at you. Your parents thought I was crazy. I asked you, how dare you show up like this, after all your lies? After being there, so many years ago, as a grown woman. They didn’t like that.”

  “You were yelling at a—at a child, Phillip.” Katherine couldn’t remember the yelling, but she knew he was telling the truth. The old man chuckled.

  “So you do talk after all,” he said. “What was I supposed to think? I knew it was you. And when you see someone you saw years ago, somebody you knew shouldn’t have been there, you don’t take it lightly. I imagine you’ve found the letter Julie left in the attic, with your clothes.”

  “Yes.”

  “She dreamt about you for six years, Katherine. I don’t remember the details, of course. And then I knew David knew something. You kept his company a lot when you were there.”

  “
So you beat him,” Katherine snarled. “A young boy, a nice kid, my father…and you beat him.”

  “Sometimes it’s the only way. He told me everything you told him. At first, I didn’t believe it. Then I found that paper in your shirt.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “There was a breast pocket on your over-shirt. Inside it was a piece of paper, some kind of receipt. The date on it was May second, 2005. Now, I’m a man of reason. I just don’t go and believe everything I see. I looked up the store name and tried to find their phone number. Everywhere I looked gave no evidence of its existence. Every person I talked to said this store didn’t exist and never had. I can’t remember its name now.”

  “So, you decided to believe I really had come from the future.”

  Phillip nodded solemnly. “And when my son and his wife brought my granddaughter over to the house for the first and last time, I saw those eyes, your blond hair…I saw a woman in her I hadn’t thought I would ever see again.”

  “That explains why you weren’t all that surprised to see me.” Kat glared at him. “But it doesn’t explain anything about your other son,”—Phillip grimaced—“nor does it explain why you’re in this nursing home and everyone says you’re crazy.”

  “I thought you would have figured that out on your own, Katherine.”

  “I will. Eventually. And you can’t stop me.”

  Kat was growing more headstrong as the moments passed. She flinched each time he moved, as though she were afraid that he was preparing to attack her. When he reached toward the dresser, she thought that he was about to reach into a drawer for a weapon. She shuddered. Instead, he picked up a glass of water.

  “You’re afraid of me,” he said, sipping his water. When she didn’t respond, he continued. “Do you think I’m stupid enough to try to kill you here?”

  “Then you’ll try it somewhere else,” Kat retorted. It was almost as if she was begging for some sort of unexpected murder attempt. If he did try to kill her and she got away, she could use that as evidence against him. What the hell am I thinking?