by Kane, Zoey
“Stolen is my guess,” said Claire, adding it up swiftly.
“Yes. That is my conclusion as well. That pearl would be worth plenty.”
“Any ideas on who might have stolen it? When and where did you leave the pearl alone?”
“While getting our shots. And I had the pouch on the bed when I went down to bring up a snack. I thought it would be safe enough because I hadn’t mentioned it, even to you. Yet, we still have what is most valuable above all.” Zo turned the pouch inside out and laid it flat. In black ink it read, “Four more. Follow the finger.”
“Follow the finger tied to the X map? Tell me there is something else for a clue as well, Mom.”
“Following that finger would be like following a coke bottle during Spin The Bottle. I don’t get it either.”
Just in case, they searched for other fingers, anywhere. Fingers in paintings didn’t point; rather, they were to one’s side or folded in laps. The various statues of marble or stone around the old home didn’t hint at anything either. Nothing stood out. There was no Grim Reaper pointing anywhere, and by the time they rested from their work, they wondered if it was all in vain. Perhaps the captain thought it funny to send intruders on a wild goose chase.
*
There was much excitement when Jack was brought down on a stretcher by Deputy Jones and Mr. Kendaloaf. Matilda followed behind, supported by Debbie walking down the stairs. Everyone went to see as soon as a voice called out, “Here they come! Matilda and a man on a stretcher.”
“We have an infirmary back by the kitchen,” Debbie said. “Take Jack there and, Matilda, you can sit at the kitchen table and have a little tea for nerves and strength.” Many followed to hear the details of how they got trapped and injured. Matilda told the story and answered questions until it was concluded the worn out woman needed a break to rest and recover.
“Rescued! You all are rescued!” Slobber swaggered into the kitchen, underscored by a limp. He was wearing a big toothy smile.
“You have front teeth!” Matilda noticed.
“Yes. I was walking by Dr. Drill’s office and he came out and took me by my arm and said he had something for me that he thought would fit. These were suppose to be Albert Ross’s front teeth, but he died last week, so I got ’em.” Slobber smiled an exaggerated front-tooth smile. They were a wee bit horsey-looking, but an improvement no matter what.
“Dr. Hale; the dentist’s name is Dr. Hale,” Debbie corrected.
With more of an arrogant swagger, Slobber walked over to the door of the infirmary, and yelled in to Jack, “I’m glad yer alright, dude! Nurse Debbie is coming in with a three inch needle and some yarn to sew yer leg up, and a big ol’ sy-ringe to stab your be-hind with an anti-bi-otic. That is awesome!” A mule-ish laugh followed. “What color would you like yer stitches to be? Remember, Nurse Debbie, don’t sew up the slash in the middle back there—it’ll turn his blue eyes brown. Heh hee heh heh.”
A stainless steel cup came flying through the door, to which Slobber leaped out of its way. Then he headed toward the long kitchen table. “He must be feeling better already,” he said.
Debbie and a couple of Coven House witches handed out blankets to the guests and suggested bedrooms upstairs for the night. A few preferred sleeping bags and blowup mattresses to stay in the bowling alley, laughing about a slumber party; the town council board members opted for that because of more goodies from the burger bar there.
Zo and Claire finally entered the kitchen wearing comfy clothes, looking fresh and shiny clean, although tired. They took chairs at the table.
“My darlin’, yer looking better than the last time I saw you, when you were slimed,” greeted Slobber to Claire.
“Thanks, my hero,” returned Claire, “but you look flushed. Are you feeling well?”
“She called me her hero.” Slobber pulled his cap over his eyebrows in a moment of gushing.
“She’s leading you on,” warned Zo matter-of-factly.
“I don’t care, Mom,” said Slobber.
“Whoa, didn’t see that one coming.” Zo got up to get a cinnamon roll and a glass of milk.
Everyone stopped talking to stare at newcomers into the kitchen. Cynthia now wore black velvet lounge pants and a matching zip-up sweater, looking spectacular as usual. But it was Pat Bule, behind Cynthia, who earned an amazed expression from Matilda.
“Where did you come from?” Matilda asked.
“I’ve been here,” Pat said. “I came in when most of you went into the library for the hearing. I opted to go to a room upstairs and nap. I’m a loner,” she remarked dryly.
The next surprise was Slobber gagging and throwing up on the floor. “Sorry,” he said, looking weak. “I don’t feel so good.”
“Yeah,” said Cynthia, “Pat has that effect on men.” Then she laughed as the little round woman gave her a dirty look. “Just kidding…,” the witch said to her friend. “Take a joke.”
“Debbie!” Matilda called. “We’ve got you another patient!”
Debbie came out of the infirmary room, having administered the shot, and then she and Claire steadied Slobber onto the extra bed in there. “Okay, I’ll take it from here,” Debbie said. “Now tell me all about what you think is making you sick and what your symptoms are, Slobber.”
Claire rejoined the group at the table. Matilda had called for help from a couple of coven sisters who already had the floor cleaned up. Cynthia and Pat were making sandwiches in spite of it all.
“The cat is out of the pouch,” announced Zo.
“Bag!” corrected a couple people.
“I am sure I’ve got it correct,” rebutted Zo. “I found a pink pearl the size of a boulder marble while looking around down in the fascinating recesses of a sewer. So, the legend you told me, Matilda, is correct. There is a collection of pearls that Zachariah Dread hid; hence the maze of hexes and X’s.
“I heard that!” yelled Slobber. “I’m not too sick to hear about a treasure.” Then everyone heard from the infirmary the sound of gagging and vomiting. “That wasn’t me! That was city dude!” he yelled again.
“Was not! Liar!” a hoarse voice followed up by gagging and vomiting.
“That there was him, not me. I swear it!”
“Debbie! Close the infirmary door, please,” Matilda called. “Some of us are eating sandwiches.”
“I would show you the beauty of that pearl,” Zo continued, “but somebody stole it.” She took a bite of a celery stick and dip.
“If one of us found the pearls, would we get to keep them?” asked an otherwise silent Pat.
“No,” Matilda said. “It goes with the owner of this estate, which would be me. However, if somebody other than me finds that chest, I would reward them with a couple of choice pearls.”
“Wowee! So generous,” mocked Cynthia, then turned to her friend: “Lighten up on the mayo, Patsy. Lose some weight.”
Pat’s expression didn’t change, though her forehead and cheeks seemed to tighten.
Claire could see everyone had gone into silent thinking, either tapping a finger, chewing with a distant look in the eyes, or straightening a napkin over and over.
“What was the point in telling everyone about it, Ms. Kane?” inserted Pat, slamming a leaf of lettuce on pulled pork, and punching down the top bun like a pile driver.
“Because now everyone will be watching each other. It makes my job easier,” said Zo, nonchalantly.
Pat left the kitchen first with her sandwich, followed by Cynthia. Matilda excused herself to go to bed in one of the bedrooms. Debbie came out to go order in a cot, so she could sleep while still keeping an eye on her patients.
“It appears we are alone, Mother.”
“Right you are. Grab anything more you would like to take up to our room ’cause I am locking the door tonight and loading my gun.”
The sound of glass shattering startled them. They got up and stepped to the back door attached off the side of the kitchen. From the mud porch, a bloody arm
protruded through the broken window. Wind punctuated the amazing sight with a howl like a train screeching to a sudden stop.
FOURTEEN
Claire hesitated before turning the knob. The wind thrust the door open. A beat up man with contusions on his face, head and hands, slumped inside. Claire and Zo grabbed him by his wrists and pulled as the force of the storm drenched the two from hair to shoes. There would be no way to close the door in that forceful wind, so they pulled him into the kitchen.
The man continued to rest on the kitchen floor, breathing hard. Hearing the chaos, guests gathered behind Zo and Claire. Debbie came running through the crowd followed by Riley Jones, who, when seeing the situation, went straight to the injured man.
“John? This is John,” Debbie said. “Matilda’s ex-husband.”
He was soaked in rain and blood. “Had to crawl,” John breathed his explanation, “…to keep from getting hit by flying objects in the wind. Got hit anyway by rolling things. Must have been three hours….” He stopped speaking a moment to catch his breath. He finally opened his eyes, but didn’t move from his prostrate position. “Started out… just a bad storm, and then wind caught my car and threw me up against a tree. Couldn’t drive away out of the mud or rain. It was crawl or die.”
“Riley, can you get him into the infirmary?” Debbie asked. “He’s going to need dry clothes, or in this case a patient’s gown, cleaning up and some stitches… looks like in a few places. He can take that cot we brought in. I’m not going to get much sleep tonight.” She said to the gathering crowd, “Ask Judy to come see me. We need her expertise here.”
John rasped out, “Sick. Feeling sick. Maybe die.”
“Okay. I gotcha,” said the deputy. He squatted and lifted the man, and with effort carried him off to the infirmary.
Feeling better that the man was in capable hands, Zo and Claire stared at the rain spraying against the hardwood floor in dismay. Deputy Jones saw this as he came back to the kitchen, and said, “I’ll work on barricading and cleaning this all up, ladies.”
“Thank you.” Zo bat her wet eyelashes.
Debbie came out the infirmary across the way, and announced to the duo, “We’ve got some big time trouble here.”
“What is it?” asked Claire.
“Jack has episodes of delirium and Slobber is getting all the worse.”
Claire and Zo put down their snacks and walked speedily in to take a look at the patients. Not that they would have any medical advice, but that is what people do in emergencies.
“What’s going on with them?” Claire asked, looking over the two very ill-looking men.
“Jack has been too weak to speak; and now Slobber,” answered Judy, dabbing at John with hydrogen peroxide.
“Slobber!” Claire demanded with impatience, and wiped wet strands behind her ears. “You tell me what is going on right this instant. Nobody gets into this shape without having some sort of clue!”
Slobber turned his head and squinted a look at Claire through feverish eyes. “Okay, beloved. I didn’t want to admit to being so stupid and jealous as to follow your ex-romantic man when he went down a secret door in the attic. I followed him into a puzzle of rooms. One place he went into, he come out in a hurry, looking like he discovered the depths of Hades, all wild in his eyes.”
Slobber went silent, breathing heavy, too weak to talk. Then he began again. “I hid in a corner, knocking spiders out of the way. When he went back through the rubber flaps to the first room, I decided to take a look at what he discovered, and that is when I was bit by a big ol’ rattler snake. I didn’t want to say anything, because I’ve been bitten before and didn’t get this sick. I didn’t want anyone to know I was followin’ that there rat, your hypnotizin’ bad boy.” Slobber rolled his head back and closed his eyes.
Judy said urgently, “We don’t have any anti-venom,” and looked at Debbie.
“Actually, we do,” said Zo. “Claire and I passed through all those traps. I found a vial of Cortilaid in a basket in the snake room. It said so right on a tag. I’ll go get it.”
Debbie explained as if embarrassed, “I didn’t see the snake bite on Jack because of the compound fracture and blood, and I thought Slobber had flu or something.”
“Me too,” added Judy. “Let’s get the pants off Slobber and look at his snake bite. I’ll make a potato poultice for both he and Jack. It draws out impurities in the tissues, you know.”
“Isn’t that just an old wives’ tale?” asked Claire.
“Sure. Probably some old wife throwing mashed potatoes at her drunken sick husband,” Judy quipped. “Pants off!”
“Hey, hey, hey. Ladies!” protested Slobber.
“Slobber, Matilda said she found Jack at the bottom of the attic ladder down in the first of the rooms. That is where she said she found him with his broken leg.”
“I was hiding in the passage, having returned from the monster spiders and I saw Jacky-boy could not get back through the door to the beginnin’ room.” Slobber was speaking with closed eyes, an arm across his forehead. “He looked around and…,” he swallowed, “and then he went into a dark jail-like place that knocked him over when the gate come down. It closed on his leg… breaking it, I guess. Right after, the gate went up again when Matilda come through to the room. When her back was turned, I hightailed it back through the opening; but then, the attic door was locked till somebody opened the floor door. It was beauty and her Mom. I hid in some shadows, and thankfully their flashlight beam didn’t see me. When the door was shut again, this time it didn’t lock. I guess ’cause no one opened the “on to freedom” second door at that moment. Anyway, that’s all I can say….”
Zo re-entered the infirmary with the anti-venom, and Debbie filled two syringes, having plenty left over. The mother and daughter returned to the kitchen to pick up their bag of snacks. The house shook from the storm, like when a commuter train speeds by a two-story flop house in Detroit. It thundered along its tracks, as the blaze of its lightning headlamp flashed in fury. With it came a hurricane of ocean waves crashing over the roof. Evening was upon them. The storm would rage on, growing in strength.
Nobody would be leaving the mansion.
FIFTEEN
The two returned to their room for the night. After Claire rehearsed what Slobber told her, she mused, “Matilda’s stories are not all that consistent. Wouldn’t you say, Mom?”
“Disturbingly so. I’m going to ask her what is going on in the morning.”
Zo went in their bathroom to shower up first. Claire changed out of her wet clothes into a dry robe, and waited for her turn. Claire passed the time by walking around, studying all the little things in their suite. After running a finger along an armoire drawer, she came to a corner of the room where a drape hung against a wall; a luxuriously braided cord fell to its side. Claire touched it, and did what felt natural—she pulled it. The drape slid to one side, revealing an old oil painting coated in a layer of dust.
A few minutes later, the shower turned off and Claire could hear her mother working around the sink. “Mom, can you come here a minute?” she called.
Zo came out of the bathroom patting her face with a towel and saw her daughter staring at something in awe. “What is it?”
“Look. Captain Zachariah.”
“Whoa! Who would have figured that?!” Zo marveled at the painting’s powerful beauty. “If that isn’t as close as one gets to an old master, I don’t know what is.”
Zachariah Dread appeared as a handsome older man, with silver-gray in his beard, a full head of hair, and dressed in the formality of the era. He sat in a chair having a Bible opened on his knee. One hand rested across its pages while the other one rested over the arm of a high-back chair. A saying could be discerned in the background’s shadows: “The first shall be last, and the last shall be first.”
“Have you spotted it yet, honey?” asked Zo.
“The flag that hangs with the American flag there in the corner?”
�
�That would be it—the Jolly Roger.”
They stared at the skull and crossbones on a tattered black cloth in understanding. “Mom, the man was not a scavenger sailor as Matilda said. He was a freaking pirate!”
“Are you sure there is not a more undesirable and rude meaning to that word ‘freaking,’ Claire?”
“Yes, Mom. Little kids say it everywhere.”
“Hah! Like that is a certification of innocence.”
“I’m a grown up woman, Mommy.”
They stood looking at each other a moment, as smiles started creeping across their faces.
Zo returned her attention to the painting. “Oh, look. There is one more point of interest. Go look up Habakkuk chapter two, verse one. There is a verse underlined in red on the page Captain Dread has opened.”
“Well, since I don’t usually carry a Bible with me per se, we will have to look it up in the library tomorrow. I’m sure there must be one there. How about we close this drape, like we found it?!”
“Yeah, I don’t trust anyone either.”
*
Zo had finally fallen asleep, it being the kind of sleep that shuts one in a tight trunk where everything else is locked out. Banging was distant and irritating, not making any sense in the blackout she was under. She found herself being attacked and couldn’t understand why; and then, it was as if senses caught up to realization that Claire was shaking her. Her eyes fluttered open. The banging was loud and immediate. Claire headed for the door as Zo threw her feet out of the covers to the floor, and then reached for her gun.
Claire waited for her mother to come up behind her before she opened the door. Things were happening so fast, it was hard to sort out; but, the shadowed figure at their door was Matilda, who immediately slumped backward to the floor with a thud and most horrific expression. One hand was gripping a knife protruding from her bloody chest. They could tell Matilda wanted to say something, but was unable to, and instead her other hand relaxed open. A large pink pearl rolled out from her fingers. The stare of death looked up from her frozen face.