by Peter Ponzo
He rose to his feet, stumbled forward and Liz held him up.
"Whoa! Bryan, where are you going? You look drunk. Come on, let's go home."
She pulled him by the hand and he followed, to the elevator, down to the ground floor, out the door, to the car waiting by the road. She opened the door, pushed him in and slammed the door. He stared straight ahead, out the front window, into the darkness. Liz slid in beside him and kissed him again on the cheek.
When they were off campus she turned and gave him a big wide smile, but he didn't see; he was staring ahead, dazed.
"You'll never guess who I saw today." Her voice was jubilant. "Guess!"
Bryan leaned back in the seat and turned his head slowly. Liz was cheerful, smiling, her face was beaming, her eyes - her eyes were bright, shining. Fiery? Piercing?
A hand grabbed Bryan by the shoulder, from behind, and he jumped and grabbed the dashboard and his heart must have stopped for a moment.
"Well ol' buddy - how've you been?" came the voice from the back seat.
It was Sam Jaffre. Sam Jaffre? Was that Sam Jaffre he'd seen through the window? Had he been dreaming all this? Nothing seemed real.
"Sam ... Sam Jaffre ... uh, where have you ... uh, where've you been?" he managed to stutter.
"A long story. Liz invited me to your place ... hope you don't mind .. tell you all about my travels ... you won't believe where I've been. Can hardly believe it myself."
He laughed loudly and Liz joined him, laughing and rocking back and forth in the car, hardly able to contain herself.
They were both laughing.
Bryan wasn't laughing.
***
"Darling, you were dreaming," said Liz. She ran her hand through his hair, kissing him softly on the forehead. "You know ... your dreams ... they seem more frequent. Maybe you should see a doctor. Tomorrow. An appointment with Dr. Berring. He'll give you something."
He looked at Liz, then at Sam. How could it not be a dream? They were here now, both of them, perfectly normal, sitting in the living room. He stared at his hands clasped tightly on his lap, knuckles white. After Liz had described her exciting day he had thought long and hard about whether to say anything about the faces in the window. Finally he decided to say only that he saw some strange ritual being performed on the first floor. He would not say a thing about seeing Liz, or Sam. He may have been mistaken. It was dark, after all.
"No. I'm sure it wasn't a dream," he said. "It was a strange ritual."
"Strange ritual?" asked Sam, looking at Liz.
"How strange?" asked Liz, looking at Bryan.
"There were several people, standing around, singing - and somebody dancing, on a table." Bryan began to perspire and couldn't look at either of them directly. "The person on the table, she was naked, I think." He looked up, at Liz.
"Really?" she said, looking at Sam. Then, smiling at Bryan she added, "How nice for you, dear."
"And she had black streaks, moving across her body."
"Her naked body?" asked Sam, grinning.
"Yeah, and ... uh, well, it's not important," said Bryan, looking at the floor. "I may have been mistaken. It was dark."
"Yes, mistaken," whispered Liz.
"I think so," said Sam.
"And you were in Baden City, you say," Bryan said quickly, looking up at Liz. "You spent the day there, shopping for furniture, for our new apartment. And you met Sam there. And you had lunch together. And you came home - when was it?"
"About 4:30. Sam joined me. I invited him for dinner. I knew you'd be pleased to see him again." She turned to Sam. "You don't know how worried we were, Bryan and I. You were gone for so long." She smiled and Sam smiled back, then he leaned over and patted Bryan on the shoulder.
"Bryan. You're a lucky fellow. Liz was just beside herself this afternoon, worried about you. Me? Nobody worries about me." Sam smiled and looked at Liz and she smiled back.
Bryan pointed to Liz.
"Your exam! It was today. What about your -"
"Oh Bryan. You know that Andrew owed me a favour. He sat in on the exam for me. Remember? I proctored his exam. Last term. Of course you don't remember that." She turned to Sam and smiled. "Bryan can hardly remember his own name let alone -"
"No! No! No!" cried Bryan. "I checked with the English Department. You hadn't picked up your mail. If you had talked to Andy why didn't you pick up your mail?"
Liz looked at Sam, surprised at Bryan's outburst. "Darling, I was nowhere near the college today. I made those arrangements with Andrew more than a week ago."
Bryan hung his head. "Sorry," he whispered. "I'm just tired I guess. All this - this - willow stuff, the note warning us out of the apartment. Your leaving this morning and not coming back until - "
He looked up at Liz, his eyes wide. He remembered something.
"You told me you were on your way to the college! You told me that, this morning! You said you had to leave - for the exam today!"
"Yes darling," said Liz sweetly. "I didn't want to tell you about my shopping spree in Baden City. It was supposed to be a surprise."
She rose from the chair and walked toward the bedroom. "Want to see my surprise? Want to see what I got for you?" She disappeared into the bedroom.
Bryan looked at Sam. Sam shook his head, smiling, shrugged his shoulders.
Liz returned dragging a swivel chair made of black leather.
"See, darling? Just for you - not exactly a surprise, not now, but it's yours. I hid it in the back closet. It's for your desk in our new apartment. Do you like it?" She kissed him on the top of his head. "Now I can hardly wait to see what you buy for me, for our new apartment." Liz sat down and smiled at Sam who smiled back.
Bryan fell back into his chair and picked up the glass of white wine, swirling the liquid slowly. He looked at Sam, squinting, still slowly swirling the wine, the glass held precariously in the air. There was something wrong. It couldn't be that simple. He was not dreaming, not this time.
"Okay Sam. What about you? Where have you been for the last two years?"
"You won't believe this," said Sam. Bryan grunted agreement. "Been out of the country ... saved a little money ... seven years on the force you know. Visited Mom on the west coast. Sister in Bermuda. Guess what? Italy. Six months. Living in a suburb of Bari. Heel of Italy. Great! A dozen kinds of pasta. Took that night course at the college. Conversational Italian. Did fine."
Bryan watched him carefully, watched his lips open and close. Never a complete sentence. Did he always talk like that? Italy? Six months - with a night school course in Italian? Not likely. He was lying. Liz was lying. Sam droned on. Liz was full of smiles, looking from Bryan to Sam to Bryan. That wasn't a real smile. These weren't real people. They were evil. Members of some secret organization - a secret club that met in this very building. They were somehow tied up with the willow tree thing. The tall, black, ugly willow that spun him to the top of the world, a thousand miles above the ground, above the fields of wild flowers running to the purple hills barely visible in the mist on the horizon. The evil willow ...
"Bryan? Are you feeling okay? Bryan!"
Liz was staring into his face. Sam was looking over her shoulder. Bryan shook his head as though to clear it.
"Sorry, Bryan. Guess I just don't know when to stop." Sam was talking. "Guess you're tired. I'll go. See you both later."
Liz argued that he should stay, but he left anyway. Liz followed Sam to the door and Bryan saw her kiss him lightly on the cheek. He kissed her back. They stared quietly at each other for several moments. Liz placed her hand in his.
Bryan closed his eyes.
He didn't feel well.
CHAPTER 22
Laurentian Tower: Tuesday, April 30, 1985
Sam and Liz had left before sunrise, in the rented truck. They would first pick up the new furniture in Baden City and bring it to the new apartment, Laurentian Tower. Another Tower. At least it was a sin
gular tower. They were to move in on May 1, but the landlord said the apartment was vacant and he would let them put in furniture on the 30th.
Bryan stood at the window and watched them leave. They both waved and the headlights flashed. Sam was driving. How did he know about that ritual with the headlights? Why would Liz tell him? It was their thing, private, secret, personal. Sam should not have known, not unless Liz told him. What was going on between them, Sam and Liz? She should not have told him.
He turned and walked quickly to the bedroom and grabbed a sweater from the shelf and headed for the door, pulling the sweater over his head as he went, and bumping into the wall.
He drove the car to Stanton Hall, leaning over the steering wheel, his knuckles white, a determined look of frustration and anger on his face. He parked on the road. No parking there, but he wouldn't be long. They'd mark the tires and tow him away in - he looked at his watch - in about an hour. He wouldn't take that long. He would be back before then.
He went to his office and phoned Andy McNaughton. No answer. Damn! It was too early. Nobody came to work before 8:00. He hadn't planned for that. He must think clearly. He had to kill an hour - maybe more. Do something useful. He looked at his watch again: 7 o'clock. He left the office and headed back to his car. There was a chalk mark on the front right tire. He slid in and headed for the coffee shop in McGinnis Plaza. It was closed. Damn! He should have thought of that. Was he simply incompetent? Was it getting to him? He was a mathematician with a mind capable of treading the narrow strands of logic which lead from premise to conclusion.
He drove into the traffic. Where was everybody going? This much traffic this early in the morning? He got caught in a double line of cars and missed his turn. When he did get off, it was a dead end street - almost. There was a lane at the end and he took it. It was bumpy but ran into a paved but unfamiliar street. It was a new subdivision with streets that were all complex curves terminating in little circles. Everything was going wrong. When he came out onto Moss Hill Road he stopped. He looked at his watch: 7:30 and he still had time to kill. Everything would be all right.
Moss Hill? It rang a bell.
He drove to the Moss Hill Nursing Home.
***
Arnie Brubacher was sleeping. Bryan coughed but the old man just sniffed once and began to snore softly.
"Mr. Brubacher? Are you awake?"
What a stupid question. Why did people ask such a stupid question? Brubacher stirred and opened his eyes. Yes, that's why: not such a stupid question. It woke him up.
"Mr. Brubacher? My name is Bryan Laker. I'm a friend of - of ..." He'd better make this good. "... of Melissa ..." What on earth was her name? "Kumar. Melissa Kumar."
He got the right reaction. Arnie Brubacher sat bolt upright and started to talk.
"Watch out for the tree - the ol' willow tree. It'll get yuh for sure. And Cassandra, stay outta her way. She's worse 'n the tree. Evil she is. The willow - evil - and Melly, poor Melly, brought right in - dragged right into the evil circle."
The old man talked on, hardly taking a breath. He was excited, leaning forward in the bed, staring directly at Bryan and waving the stump of his hand, strands of gray flesh flapping. "She's a witch is Cassandra. Naked - dancing on the table, naked - covered in mud. She's got 'em in her spell, she has. Red eyes, fire and brimstone. Stay outta her way."
Who was Cassandra? thought Bryan. Dances - naked on a table ? He saw someone - through the window - dancing on the table. Sam was there. Liz was there. In the apartment building. Was that Cassandra?
"Mr. Brubacher?" The old man kept talking without a break. "Mr. Brubacher? Could I - could I ask you a question?"
"Friends of the Willow - all in her spell. Evil - willow tree and Cassandra - evil -"
When Bryan put his hands on Brubacher's shoulder the old man stopped and looked up at him, his eyes fearful, his hands trembling.
"Mr. Brubacher? Can I ask a question? Who is this Cassandra?"
Arnold Brubacher stared at Bryan for some time as though trying to piece together an answer. He opened and closed his mouth several times, then stuttered:
"My daughter - November, '95 - Cassandra Brubacher. Melly wanted to call her Brubacher. She -"
"You mean Mrs. Kumar was the mother? You and Mrs. Kumar - are you saying - ?"
"Melly had the baby - Cassandra - an evil baby. Born of an evil woman - killed her husband - ol' Josh, under the willow - see my hand? Gone. My voice? Gone. And Doc Manner, gone. Hanged hisself they say. Cassandra done it, sure enough. Old Doc seen too much - knew too much."
Bryan listened intently, staring at Brubacher's hand-stump-flaps. The old man continued, staring directly at Bryan, thin wisps of white hair running down his red and heavily creased face, his eyes now blinking rapidly.
"Babies - the Martin gals - Cassandra took their babies. Josh wanted a boy - Melly had a gal - killed the gal - I know it sure. Josh was mad - terrible mad - under the willow -"
Bryan's head was spinning. He should be taking notes. Would he remember all this? He pulled out a small notepad and leafed past the equations until he found a blank page, looking up at Arnie then back to his notebook then back to the old man in the bed.
"Josh had a terrible temper - killed Barney fer sure - we all knew it - then he got it hisself - under the tree - damnation, that old willow - the Martin gals gave her the babies, just like that they did it - just gave up their babies - and Josh wanted a boy -"
The old man was repeating himself and Bryan had some difficulty in getting things down on paper. Suddenly Arnold Brubacher became silent, falling back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling and breathing hard, his hand flaps vibrating by his side.
***
When Bryan left the nursing home he sat in the car for ten minutes, looking at the random collection of words he had written, then writing it again, neatly, so he could read it:
Melissa Kumar - married to Joshua Kumar.
Melissa kills Joshua - buries him under the willow.
Arnold Brubacher marries Melissa Kumar ?
Cassandra born to them ? - 1895.
Friends of the Willow - evil society - under Cassandra's spell
He looked over the notes. Incredible. Did Brubacher say that Melissa had a baby? And the baby was killed? Then she and Brubacher had another, Cassandra? Was that it? He leafed through the random words. Yes, it seemed that way. Then he stared at the date: 1895. It couldn't have been Cassandra that he saw through the window, dancing, naked on the table. It was pretty dark but there had been some light, enough light, and that woman couldn't have been more than, say, thirty or forty. Cassandra would be, let's see, 1895. She'd be 90 years old!
He looked at his watch: 8:30. He could go back to the college. The faculty and staff would be arriving.
He had work to do.
***
He first phoned Andy McNaughton in the English department.
Andy? Liz just wanted to know how her exam went. Okay? You did sit in on her exam, didn't you? Yes, of course. It went well? Good. Liz was worried about that last question. Thanks.
So, she had made arrangements with Andy to proctor her exam. Next he phoned Baden City Furniture Mart.
Sorry sir, we don't give out information on our patrons. Mr. Laker? You wish to return the swivel chair? Certainly, we would be happy to replace it. Did you like the other pieces your wife selected? That's fine. She was sure you would be pleased.
Okay, so she did go to Baden, shopping for furniture. Next he left and walked to Electrical Engineering to see Petr Rowe. He spent almost an hour there and left with a slip of paper with a diagram and a list of parts. He dropped into Radio Shack at McGinnis Plaza and bought the parts on his way back to the apartment. He drove right past the parking lot, just pausing long enough to see that Sam and Liz hadn't returned, then continued on to Laurentian Tower. He let himself in with one of the two keys he and Liz had obtained from the superintendent and went directly
to the living room and removed the molding at the base of the wall. He carefully laid the thin wire along the wall and replaced the molding to hide the wire. Then he plugged in the soldering iron, waited, licked his finger and hissed it against the tip to see that it was hot, soldered the thin wire to the button microphone and slipped the mike under the shag carpet, right against the wall so no one would accidently step on it. The other end of the wire he tucked under the carpet and pulled it along the wall to the closet door. He stripped the insulation from the end of the wire with the Swiss pocket knife on his key chain, soldered on a phono plug then placed it under the carpet, just inside the closet door. He closed, then opened the closet door. It couldn't be seen and was out of the way of any careless feet. Petr Rowe had been very helpful.
Bryan left the apartment and headed back to Willow Towers just as Sam and Liz drove up in the rented truck.
"Bryan!" shouted Liz. "Got the stuff from Baden City. Help us pack the truck. We'll have lunch in our new apartment. Won't that be fun?"
Bryan and Sam carried the smaller boxes down the five flights until there was no more room in the truck. The movers would carry the heavy stuff. Both insisted that Liz just watch. She had to rest, both for herself and for her baby. Then they headed for Laurentian Tower. It was noon when they sat in the middle of the living room floor, around a blanket, and ate the picnic lunch that Liz had prepared. Liz was on a large pillow, leaning back against the foot of the sofa, carefully eating over her belly.
"When do the movers arrive at Willow Towers?" asked Sam, turning to Liz.
"Not until 3 o'clock." She turned to Bryan and squinted. "Bryan? The girl at Baden City Furniture Mart said you called and wanted to return the swivel chair. Aren't you happy with the chair?"
Bryan almost choked on the last bite of muffin. That was a mistake - he shouldn't have phoned until after Liz and Sam had left Baden City. Stupid. He can't make any more mistakes.
"The swivel chair?" he sputtered. "Oh that ... no, I'm very happy with it - it's great. But I thought I saw a tear in the leather ... wanted to see if they'd replace it. Turned out not to be a tear after all, just a seam, a piece of cloth. You know me, Liz. Silly - it wasn't even close to being a tear. Just a little piece of cloth sticking out - I took it off. It's great, just great. The chair is great."