Help Wanted

by Richie Tankersley Cusick

  “Parker’s their hope, you know—or haven’t you heard? Parker’s their pride and joy. But now Parker won’t have his money—I will. Or his freedom, but I will. And the Swansons, bless their cold hearts, won’t have their perfect family name anymore.”

  Claudia gazed a long moment into Robin’s face. Her eyes brightened with quick tears, and they seemed to grow, pools of deep, deep sadness. Robin wanted to look away from them but found she couldn’t.

  “I want him to suffer,” Claudia whispered. “And if he suffers, they all suffer. Just like my mother suffered every single day after she married into this family.”

  Robin’s only thought was to keep Claudia talking. Yes, keep her talking … distract her …

  “But I thought Parker’s father loved her,” Robin said. “I thought—”

  “The old man always hated my mother.” Claudia’s face went dark. “And so did Parker. They talked about her behind her back, but she knew. She always knew. When they called her a phony and a fraud. When they said she used people.”

  Claudia gave a short, bitter laugh.

  “Can you imagine that—my mother using people! Well, people liked to have my mother love them! She was a very beautiful woman, you know. Even me …”

  Her voice trailed off. A look of confusion flickered across her face, and she seemed to lose her train of thought.

  “Even … even me,” Claudia said at last. “I worked hard to make my mother happy. To make her … love me.”

  The gun tightened against Robin’s face. She stiffened slowly, feeling the rain flow down her cheeks.

  “I … I worked hard,” Claudia mumbled. “I did a lot to earn my mother’s love. I even got rid of Parker’s mother to make my mother happy.”

  Robin gasped, but Claudia didn’t seem to hear. Her face had gone soft and dreamy, as though she were far away in some other place.

  “I knew my mother wanted to be a Swanson,” Claudia mumbled. “More than anything in the world. And so”—she closed her eyes and drew a long, deep breath—“that day … when Mrs. Swanson drove to the village … I waited on the curve. And when I saw her car … I stepped out in front of it.”

  Robin tried to block out the sound of Claudia’s memories, tried desperately to shut out the horrible tragedy tearing at her heart as Claudia kept on.

  “I knew she wouldn’t hit me. She was a very sweet person … a very kind person. And she did just what I knew she’d do. She swerved her car over the ledge, and it went down and down and down …”

  Claudia’s lip trembled. Her voice was thick with tears.

  “Everyone said it was an accident. But somehow … I think Parker always suspected.”

  She sighed, her voice dropping to a whisper.

  “I did a lot for my mother, you see. And now I’m doing this for her, too.”

  “Claudia,” Robin begged, “think about what’ll happen. Sooner or later they’ll know it was you—they’ll find you and they’ll lock you away, and you know how much you’ll hate that—”

  “But they won’t know,” Claudia looked slightly bewildered. “How could they ever know? You’ll be gone … and Skaggs—”

  “They’ll think it’s strange when they find both of us down there—they’ll never believe that both of us fell—”

  “But they won’t find both of you,” Claudia said patiently, as though she were speaking to a slow child. “Don’t you see? I’m going to bury Skaggs in the woods. I only needed help getting him here. I was going to kill him anyway, but again, you made it so easy for me. The shears were a nice touch, don’t you think? If I’d used the gun, I would’ve given myself away.”

  “Someone at school will notice he’s gone,” Robin reminded her. “And everyone knows he works for you. They’ll find him sooner or later.”

  Claudia shook her head. “And everyone knows what he is, Robin. An irresponsible drunk. And if he suddenly stops showing up for work here, too, do you think anyone’s going to drag us in for questioning?” Her lips moved in a cold, humorless smile. “Manorwood is a very big place. You can hide things here for a very long time.”

  “Like Vicki?” Robin’s voice shook.

  “That wasn’t my fault,” Claudia said softly, and she glanced away. “I don’t think Skaggs really meant to kill her. But she was trespassing that night, and he was drunk. I was coming up the drive when I thought I heard screaming—but I got there too late. And so”—she inclined her head—“Skaggs and I made a deal.”

  “I was almost right, wasn’t I?” Robin stared at her. “Only it was you he was working for, not Parker.”

  “I needed help with my little plan,” Claudia said evenly. “And Skaggs needed his secret kept.”

  Robin nodded slowly. The terrible fear she’d felt all this time was slowly draining now … replaced by a cold, hollow disgust.

  “There’s only one thing I can’t figure out,” she said.

  “What’s that?”

  “The voice. Your poor dead mother calling for help. It couldn’t have been Skaggs every time.”

  Again that strange, vague smile touched Claudia’s face.

  “A little something I inherited from her. Lillith … medium extraordinaire.” She gave a sharp laugh. “Of course she was a fraud … and she taught me well.”

  Claudia tilted her face to one side. To Robin’s shock, an eerie voice called out through the rain, floating from nowhere, and yet everywhere …

  “Help … help me …”

  “It’s called throwing your voice, Robin. It’s a trick all good mediums know how to do.”

  “My God, Claudia,” Robin whispered, and she held her eyes steady on Claudia’s vacant stare. “You really are insane—”

  “Don’t you say that!” Claudia screamed.

  To Robin’s horror the gun dug into her cheek. She could see Claudia’s eyes, wide and wild, and the gun, like Claudia’s voice, was trembling violently.

  “Don’t you ever say that to me!” Claudia screamed again. “My mother was insane! Lillith was insane! I’m not like her! I was never like her!”

  Terrified, Robin felt Claudia crowd against her. She felt her foot slide in the mud … felt part of the ground dissolve beneath her shoe.

  “Don’t do this, Claudia,” she begged. “Please …”

  “I have to do it!” Claudia cried. “I have to do it for my mother! Don’t you understand, they ruined her life! She killed herself because of them!”

  “You’re wrong, Claudia,” said a familiar voice. “I killed her.”

  As Claudia whirled around, a thin shadow emerged slowly through the trees, shrouded in the foggy downpour.

  Winifred stopped several yards away and looked at them.

  “I killed your mother,” she said calmly. “There was no one else but me.”

  Claudia spun back toward Robin, the gun quivering wildly in her hand.

  “You’re lying! They made her do it! They drove her to it!”

  Winifred shook her head. “They didn’t even know.”

  “They hated her, and—and—”

  “Don’t you mean,” Winifred corrected gently, “she hated them? She’s the one who despised their happiness. She’s the one who wanted to break them apart.”

  “I—I—” Claudia clamped her other hand on the gun now, both arms stretched in front of her. “I don’t believe you! They wanted to hurt her, and they did!”

  “They wanted to help her, but she wouldn’t be helped. They wanted to love her, but she preferred to take advantage of their kindness. I couldn’t let her do that. I couldn’t let her hurt my family. So one night I brought her her usual dose of sleeping pills. Only I brought it a little early, in her dinner wine. And then I waited for her to go for her walk, which she always did right after dark. And then I followed her.”

  Winifred paused to take a deep breath. When she continued, her voice was steady and matter-of-fact.

  “It was raining that night—it got much worse while we were out. I made sure she didn’t suffer. It w
as very quick and very merciful. There was very little pain. I put the razor in her own hands. I helped her, very gently, to make the incisions—”

  “No!” Claudia shouted. “I’m not going to listen to this!”

  “It began to rain much harder, and she began to grow much weaker. I simply coaxed her forward, over the edge of the cliff.”

  “No!”

  Winifred folded her hands at her waist. “So you see, Claudia … all this has been for nothing.”

  The gun barrel struck Robin so fast she didn’t even see it coming. She only felt the crack on her skull and the ground dissolving beneath her feet as she toppled back into nothingness.

  She grabbed for Claudia on the way down.

  She felt Claudia’s leg clutched in her arms … felt Claudia’s body twisting as it slid closer and closer to the edge of the precipice. Robin hung there, suspended, and screamed.

  Claudia kicked out at her. Robin tightened her hold on Claudia’s thigh and groped out frantically with her own foot, trying to find a niche in the slippery wall of rock.

  “Robin!” someone shouted.

  Her muscles were on fire. She felt herself weakening, and as Claudia jerked sideways, Robin slid several inches lower.

  “Help me!” she screamed again.

  She could feel something happening—movement and tension above her. Her body swung hard into the rocks, scraping and sliding on its way up. And then suddenly there were arms reaching, hands pulling, someone grabbing her legs and her clothes, pulling her from Claudia—

  For one quick moment she saw Walt’s strained face leaning over her, but then, as something moved at her side, she saw Claudia’s body disappearing over the edge of the cliff.

  “Claudia!” Robin lunged for her, but Parker was faster. As the girl’s hands gripped the edge of the rock, Parker stared at them with a look of pure hatred.

  “No,” Robin begged him. “Parker—don’t!”

  “Don’t do it, man,” Walt said.

  Parker seemed to freeze.

  He stared down at the water far, far below.

  “No,” Robin whispered. “Parker …”

  Parker’s face twisted.

  Bracing himself, he groaned and tried to pull Claudia back.

  For a moment she hung there … a pale delicate feather in the storm.

  And then she smiled.

  Robin saw her jerk free. And as Claudia hurtled down to the rocks, Robin pressed her head against Walt’s shoulder to shut out the wail of the wind.

  Are the police finally gone?” Herk asked, peeking cautiously into the living room. When only three faces nodded back at him, he shuffled in, relieved. “I thought they’d never get out of here with all their questions. Don’t they care I’m an old man and need some peace? Don’t they think we’ve had enough trouble here for one day?”

  He looks pale, Robin thought from her place on the couch. He never seemed frail to me before, but tonight …

  “No more police.” Herk sighed. “If a cop comes to the door, just run him right off. Got that?”

  Rousing herself, Robin turned her attention from Herk and shot Walt an accusing look.

  “And to think you told me not to even go to the police.”

  “A lot of good that did me,” Walt replied.

  “Well, you went to the police,” she persisted.

  “We went to the police,” Walt corrected her, glancing over at Parker. “After Parker found Vicki’s body out in the woods, he called me and we started putting two and two together. Going to the police seemed like a good thing to do.”

  “But you suspected Parker!” Robin pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders and scooted closer to the blazing fire. “Did Walt tell you he suspected you?” she added stubbornly to Parker.

  The boys exchanged amused looks.

  “I never said that.” Walt shook his head. “I said I was speculating.”

  “I told the police, but they wouldn’t believe me,” Robin pushed her muddy hair back from her forehead and frowned. “If they’d believed me, none of this might have happened in the first place. Why did they believe you and not me?”

  “Because I happen to have an in,” Walt said smoothly.

  “Your uncle.” Robin sighed. “Of course, I should have remembered. That’s not fair.”

  “Fair or not, I knew the cops would believe him long before they’d believe the crazy story you were going to tell them.”

  “It doesn’t matter who went,” Parker broke in. “I’m just glad we got back here when we did.” He glanced over at Robin’s disheveled appearance and hid a smile. “What a picture of beauty. Kind of makes you wonder if it was really worth rescuing her, doesn’t it?”

  He grinned then as Robin burrowed self-consciously into her blanket.

  “This job is too much for me, Herk.” She sighed. “I’m retiring.”

  “Retirement not accepted,” Herk barked. “Need to see more of you. Livens the place up.”

  “Livens the place up?” Parker echoed. “I think I liked it better dull.”

  “You’re the only dull thing around here!” Herk snorted. “And as for those books,” he went on, turning back to Robin, “tomorrow they go to the library—lock, stock, and barrel—just as they are! I’ll think of something else for you to do! You can be my companion—how about that?”

  “Hmmm …” Robin smiled. “That’s certainly a job worth considering.”

  “You bet it is,” Herk agreed.

  For a while the room lapsed into silence. Rain beat against the windowpanes, and the fire crackled softly on the hearth.

  Robin lowered her head onto her arms and stared numbly into the flames. We’re trying to act so normal … trying to laugh … make jokes … not think … forget. It had been a long, exhausting day, and she felt drained and detached, as though everything had been part of some terrible nightmare.

  “What will happen to Winifred?” she murmured.

  Looking up, she saw that Parker and Walt and even Herk were all staring at her. From the grave expressions on their faces, she knew they’d been sharing her same thoughts.

  “We’ll get her a good lawyer, of course.” Herk stabbed a poker viciously at the fire, but Robin heard the quiver in his voice. “The best. After all, she’s just like family, isn’t she. She’s …”

  His voice trailed off. He stared solemnly into the flames, and Robin’s heart ached for him … for Winifred … for every innocent victim of every human tragedy.

  “Well,” Walt said, deliberately breaking the silence. He stood up and glanced over at Robin. “Can I give anyone a ride home?”

  “I can take her.” Parker got up and looked at Walt.

  “But you’re already home,” Walt pointed out politely. “And her house is right on my way.”

  “If I’d known you were going to give me all this competition,” Parker deadpanned, “I’d never have confided in you this morning.”

  “You’re right. You should have just kept quiet and let her be terrorized,” Walt agreed.

  “You both lose,” Herk spoke up. “I’m taking Robin out tonight.”

  “You are?” Robin looked surprised.

  “You betcha. That brand-new pizza place I keep hearing about. Want to boogie. Might even sing with the band.”

  Parker stared. “Are you serious?”

  “Of course I’m not serious, you imbecile!” Herk shuffled back toward the hallway. “The only date I have is with my pillow! And if you two know what’s good for you, you’ll take Robin Bailey out somewhere nice and treat her like the sweet, special girl she is, and help her forget all about this terrible day she’d never have had if she hadn’t answered that ad!”

  “Well, it was your idea,” Parker reminded him.

  “I know it was my idea,” his grandfather snapped, turning in the doorway to give Robin a sly wink. “And it might interest you to know that in spite of everything, I’m glad she answered it! So what do you think about that?”

  “I think it’s tim
e to go eat,” Walt said diplomatically, reaching for Robin’s hand, helping her up from the couch. “What do you think, Robin?”

  Robin looked at the floor. She thought about how impossible this would all sound when she tried to explain it to her mother tonight. She thought about how dramatic Faye would be when she found out about Robin’s weekend. She thought about all the gossip and rumors and questions that would be waiting for her at school Monday morning, and how nice and normal everything had been before—

  Before? Was that only a few days ago?

  And it came to her with a sudden shock that her life—and her self—would never be quite the same, ever again.

  “Robin?” Walt asked gently, still holding her hand.

  “You okay?” Parker reached over and squeezed her shoulder.

  “Me?” Robin glanced up, embarrassed by their stares. “Oh, sure. Just lead me on to the next big adventure.”

  “I’ll do the leading,” Parker said firmly.

  “I’m already leading,” Walt reminded him, pulling Robin out into the hall.

  “In case you two haven’t noticed,” Robin broke in, flustered, “I’m perfectly capable of handling things by myself.”

  The boys stopped in their tracks.

  They looked down at Robin, and then they grinned.

  “Well … almost,” Parker said.

  “With a little help from your backup,” Walt clarified.

  Robin felt her cheeks burn, a warm glow that spread deep inside her.

  Maybe some of these new changes in her life weren’t going to be so bad after all.

  A Biography of Richie Tankersley Cusick

  Born on April Fool’s Day 1952, Richie Tankersley Cusick was destined at a young age to write scary books. In a career spanning three decades, she has paved the way for young-adult horror writing, a genre she continues to publish in today.

  Although born in New Orleans—home to some of the country’s most ancient ghosts—Cusick spent her early years in a small bayou town called Barataria, which once provided a safe haven for the fearsome pirate Jean Lafitte. A true Southern writer, she took early inspiration from the landscape of crumbling mansions, Spanish moss, and aboveground cemeteries, and began writing stories at a young age. For years a ghost lurked in her family’s house, making particular trouble around the holidays, when he would strip the Christmas tree of its ornaments and hurl them to the floor.