Mark arranged a row of cans and a heap of candy bars on the table and sat down with the books he had brought with him.
"I," he announced regally, "have work to do. The rest of you can amuse yourselves as you like, but please keep it down."
"Go get your mother a chair," Josef said, scowling at him.
"Please," Pat said gently.
"Oh." Mark rose and went into the next room. After an apologetic glance at Pat, Josef followed him. They returned, each carrying a chair.
And that was something else that would have to be worked out, Pat thought. Mark was a grown man. He would not lightly submit to the parental authority of a stranger. He didn't need a father, he needed a friend.
Josef was obviously struggling with the same realization, for after they had settled in their chairs he spoke to Mark in kindlier tones than he had used thus far.
"What are you looking for, Mark? Can we help?"
"Well-sure. I guess you could. I'm curious about where and when Peter Turnbull was killed. 'A cavalry skirmish, somewhere in Maryland ' is pretty vague. I thought maybe one of the military-history books would have a record of the engagements White's Rangers fought in."
"If the unit was part of Lee's Army of northern Virginia, we should be able to locate it," Josef said.
"But cavalry troops didn't always stay with the main body of the army. They went off on their own, like that raid on Poolesville in 1862."
"True." Josef picked up one of the books. "We can but try. I don't understand why you think it's important, but-"
"Maybe it isn't," Mark said. "Only I got to wondering… The opposing armies were so close. Right across the Potomac from each other, much of the time. Of course distances were greater then-no, damn it, I mean-"
"I know what you mean," Josef said, smiling. "It took longer in those days to cover the distance. All the same, the armies were close. This area was hit several times by Confederate troops looking for horses and supplies. Perhaps Peter was with one of those units."
"If he was," Mark said, "wouldn't he drop in on his girl friend while he was in the area?"
Josef considered the idea, scratching his chin, but Pat exclaimed impatiently, "Of course he would. Nineteen years old, swaggering in a fancy uniform-"
"They weren't so fancy," Kathy said. "Remember in Gone With the Wind, how they were spinning butternut cloth for uniforms, and dying captured Yankee uniforms because they couldn't get the good gray material?"
"That was after the Union blockade of the South had become effective," Pat argued. "Can you see the Turnbulls, father or son, riding off to war without the whole bit-spurs jingling, blooded horses prancing, gold epaulets and shiny swords?"
Mark snickered. "It's getting to you, isn't it? You talk about them as if you knew them personally-predicting what they would say and do."
"Get lost," Pat said.
"Okay." Mark took a book in one hand and Kathy's wrist in the other. "We're going in the next room to work. Don't worry, we'll leave the door open."
This shaft of irony was directed at Josef, who responded with a raised eyebrow, but made no verbal comment. When the two had disappeared into the adjoining room, he spoke to Pat in a low voice.
"What is he driving at?"
"I'm sure I don't know."
"Maybe I'm unfair," Josef said. "But I swear that kid would make Machiavelli look like an amateur… Well, I'll see if I can find out what he wants to know; maybe then he'll condescend to explain why he wants to know it."
He applied himself to the book he had chosen. Pat tried to read too, but the low voices and occasional bursts of laughter from the next room distracted her. Thank God, she thought, for the resilience of youth. Kathy must be a lot tougher than she looked to have survived the arid childhood Josef had described. If her mother's warped views had scarred the girl, the scars were well hidden; certainly she didn't seem to find the male sex repellent.
As time passed, it became harder for them to concen trate. Josef's eyes began to stray from his book to his wristwatch. Pat had put hers in her purse in order to resist the temptation of watching it. Mark and Kathy appeared to have forgotten the time, but when Josef said suddenly, "It's twelve fifty," Mark emerged from the next room as if he had been propelled by a spring.
"Twelve forty-five," he said. "Your watch is fast."
"Turn on the TV," Pat said.
Josef rose to do so, giving her a sour smile. She shared his feelings; trying to clock a ghost by means of anything as mundane and modern as television…
But the prosaic nature of the apparatus gave her an unreasonable sense of security. Surely no evil spirit would invade a motel room while Perry Mason outfoxed another lawyer.
Abandoning all pretense at indifference, they sat watching Perry mouth dumb protests until Pat said suddenly, "Poor Jud. I feel guilty, leaving him."
"I wanted to bring him," Mark said. "But you-"
"He's too big," Pat said. She didn't want to explain her real objections to bringing the dog. His abject terror had increased her own. "Anyhow, he's shut in the kitchen, away from… I wish we could have located Albert before we left."
"Cats are reputed to be quite comfortable in the presence of evil spirits," Josef remarked.
"That's a vile canard," Pat said. "However, I think cats are more capable of avoiding unpleasant situations. Albert has not been around much the last few days. Maybe he doesn't like what has been going on."
The exchange was their last pretense at conversation. They sat in silence for the succeeding minutes, watching the figures on the TV screen gesticulate. Perry's triumph was followed by six commercials, a late news bulletin, and the "Star-Spangled Banner," as the station signed off. Finally, when the screen had been blank for several long minutes, Josef let out a long sigh and wiped his damp forehead.
"That's that."
"Thank God," Pat said sincerely. "Let's go to bed."
"I don't suppose…" Mark began.
"That we want to go back to the house and see what, if anything, your apparatus has recorded? No," said Josef.
"I had a feeling you were going to say that," Mark muttered. "Good night, all."
By the time Pat had finished her ablutions Kathy was sound asleep. The girl had been stoically silent through the last vigil, but as Pat bent over her, studying her pale face, she wondered how long Kathy could stand it. Even if Josef carried out his threat of selling the house and moving away, the problem would still be unresolved in the area that counted most-in Kathy's mind. She might go on seeing apparitions even after they had ceased to pursue her; and surely her mother's hell-fire religious notions must have left unpleasant seeds of guilt and doubt in her young conscience.
Pat brushed a lock of hair away from Kathy's cheek. The girl's tight lips relaxed into a faint smile, and Pat resolved then and there that if no other solution presented itself, she would suggest to Mark that they manufacture a final, satisfying denouement, something that would settle Kathy's fears. Maybe, she thought grimly, we can burn that damned house down to the ground. Josef wouldn't wittingly cheat an insurance company, but Mark would… And I'm beginning to think it might be the lesser of two evils.
Josef's room was dark and silent. He had left the door a few inches ajar. Pat got into bed, groaning as her taut muscles relaxed. The warm, sweet tide of sleep began to envelop her.
She came bolt upright, all her joints protesting, as someone knocked on the door.
"Mom? Hey, Mom, are you asleep? It's me."
She heard a muffled curse and a creak of springs from the next room. Josef hadn't been asleep either. With a curse of her own she got up and ran to the door.
"Shut up," she said through her teeth. "If you waken Kathy I'll kill you. What do you want?"
Mark, still fully dressed and wide awake, looked hurt.
"I can't find my pen. I must have left it on the table next door."
"You don't need your pen."
"I do, though, Mom. It won't take a minute. Just let me-"
He was past her before she could protest again. Kathy had not stirred. Mark tiptoed to the door between the rooms.
"I'll just slip in," he whispered. "I won't wake him up."
"I'm awake," said a grim voice from the darkness. "If I had been asleep, I'd be awake now."
"Gee, Mr. Friedrichs, I'm sorry. I just-"
"Shut up and get on with it."
"Yes, sir."
Pat heard objects rustle and rattle and jingle as Mark fumbled. There was no further comment from Josef, not even a creak of bedsprings. Mark finally reappeared.
"Thanks," he said "I just wanted-"
"Get out of here," Pat said.
Mark gave her a wide smile full of teeth and ingratia-tion. Before he slipped out the door he glanced at the bed where Kathy was sleeping, and his mother's rude comment died on her lips. He cared so much it hurt her to see him.
IV
She felt less kindly toward Mark when the incident was repeated at what seemed to her an incredibly early hour the following morning.
"Go away," she shouted-and then, remembering
Kathy, she rolled over, clapping her hand to her mouth.
Kathy was sitting up in bed. With her hair tumbling over her bare shoulders and the thin fabric of her batiste nightgown showing all the fresh young curves beneath, she looked good enough to eat. Her eyes were shining as she slid out of bed and headed for the door, where Mark's insistent tapping could still be heard.
Pat fell back against the pillow, wondering whether she was tough enough to become the mother of a nubile young maiden.
"Put a robe on," she croaked.
Kathy came to a stop and turned red from the top of her nightgown to the roots of her hair. Remembering a number of things she ought to have recalled earlier, Pat added quickly, "Mark is always in a weakened state before breakfast; you don't want him to pass out in the hall, do you?"
Kathy's flush subsided. "You're funny," she said, giggling.
"That's me," Pat agreed. "Keep 'em laughing." Mark's attack on the door increased in volume. Pat yelled, "Wait a minute."
"I'll let him in," Josef said. He stood in the doorway between the two rooms, buttoning his shirt; and as Pat rolled a weary, wary eye in his direction he grinned dis-armingly. "Hi," he said.
"Uh," Pat said. Her nightgown was heavy cotton and she knew there were bags under her eyes; there always were when she had not had enough sleep. Josef glanced at his daughter.
"Get your jeans on, honey," he said casually. "The lady is correct, as always; if a passing bellboy gets a look at you, we'll have to beat him off with a club."
Kathy snatched up a handful of garments and vanished into the bathroom. Ignoring the increasing fusillade of knocks, Josef sat down on the bed. Pat was still groggy; his kiss caught her unawares, and for a few moments after that she didn't even hear the knocking.
"You look gorgeous in the morning," he said, his hands on her shoulders.
"You're either blind or a liar or-"
"In love," said Josef against her ear.
"Don't do that. What if one of the kids-"
"They'll have to get used to it eventually," Josef said. His warm breath moved across her cheek and mingled with hers. Pat wondered briefly how he had acquired such skills in a loveless marriage with a frigid wife. She decided she didn't care.
Finally she freed her mouth, fighting her own instincts as well as his, and pushed him away.
"How can you be so frivolous at a time like this?"
"I must have undeveloped talents for frivolity," Josef said, smiling. "I feel drunk. No, I feel better than that. Getting drunk is no fun."
"You'd better let Mark in before he kicks the door down."
"Mark." Josef's smile vanished. "That's right, I have something to say to that young man."
There was a decided swagger in his walk as he crossed the room. Pat pushed a pillow under her back and watched him with lazy amusement. No doubt she ought to inquire why he was annoyed with Mark, but at that moment she was inclined to let them fight it out. Like Josef, she felt slightly drunk. No; it was much better than being drunk…
Josef opened the door. Ruffled and red-faced, Mark stalked in, and Pat's suppressed amusement surfaced in a weird gurgle as her son's suspicious gaze moved from Josef's face to hers.
"What took you so long? What were you doing?"
"I sent Kathy in to dress before I opened the door," Josef said blandly. "Just because we are in an abnormal situation doesn't mean we can lose sight of all the proprieties." Unappeased, Mark continued to glower at him, and Josef went on, "Speaking of proprieties, I'd appreciate it if you would return my car keys. One can hardly speak of theft among friends, but it wasn't kosher, was it, to borrow the car without asking me?"
Pat sat up in bed.
"Mark! Did you really?"
"Mom, you aren't dressed," Mark said.
"Stop trying to change the subject. Did you take-"
"I just wanted to check on poor old Jud," Mark said in injured tones. "I figured you would all get mad if I suggested it, so…"
He handed Josef the keys. The latter inspected them.
"How are the fenders?" he inquired.
"Not a scratch," Mark replied indignantly.
"Hmmm. All right, sport. Let's get some breakfast. The ladies will join us in-"
"Fifteen minutes," Pat said.
She didn't want to lecture Mark in front of Josef. He felt enough hostility already. But she promised herself that she would have a few words to say to him when they were alone.
She knew she was hooked when she found herself hurrying to dress, in order to see Josef a little sooner. Like a high-school girl, she thought, banging her head with her brush in her haste. But it's nice. It feels good. And when she and Kathy entered the dining room, she was surprised to see that the sky outside was dark with rain. She felt like sunshine.
Josef's behavior was sophomorically infatuated. He tried to hold her hand under the table, and the way he looked at her would have been a dead giveaway if anyone had been watching.
But Mark wasn't watching. When he had finished his breakfast he sat staring vacantly at his plate. Pat offered him her toast, and he refused. Then she really got worried.
"What did you say to him?" she hissed at Josef.
He shook his head. "Not much. I'm saving it."
"He's up to something," Pat said aloud. "Mark." She nudged his elbow, which was inelegantly propped on the table. "Mark, wake up."
"Huh?" Mark started. His mother, studying him with undivided attention for the first time that morning, saw the telltale signs. "Did you get any sleep last night?" she demanded. "What were you doing?"
"Working," Mark said. "Thinking."
"That's work," Josef agreed. He exchanged glances with Pat, and some of her suspicions must have slipped into his mind. "What else did you do last night, Mark? Did you really go back to the house?"
"We better leave," Mark said hastily. "Poor old Jud must be about ready to burst. I mean-"
"So you didn't go to the house," Pat exclaimed. "Where-"
But Mark was halfway to the door, and by the time Josef had paid the check, he had vanished into his own room and closed the door.
"We may as well check out," Josef said resignedly. "When we get him home I'll string him up by his thumbs and ask him again. I don't want to make a scene here in public."
True to his promise, he said nothing during the drive. Mark was in a peculiar state, mumbling under his breath, squirming and twitching, and once, to his mother's consternation, bursting into a hoarse, sardonic laugh. Seeing Pat's alarm, Kathy patted her hand.
"It's all right, Mrs. Robbins. He's got an idea, that's all."
"If it affects him that way, he'd better give up intellectual activities," said her father, from the front seat.
"Do you know what the idea is?" Pat asked.
"Well…" Kathy looked as sly as it was possible for her to look. "I promised I wouldn't talk about it till he has it all worked o
ut. If it does-we might have this whole thing settled by tonight. Wouldn't that be great?"
"Uh-huh," Pat said. She wished she shared Kathy's faith in Mark. She did not express her doubts; why should she destroy the girl's optimism prematurely?
Never before, even when it was ramshackle and abandoned, had her house looked anything but innocent to Pat. Now, under an evil, threatening sky, it had a sinister air. The turrets and tower seemed grotesque instead of charming.
Mark led the way. He went straight to the kitchen and Pat heard Jud's yelp of pleasure mixed with reproach as Mark greeted him and let him out. Standing in the hall she sniffed, wrinkling her nose; but there was no trace of that foul aroma. That did not prove that the night had been quiet. The aura was not a physical smell, it probably worked directly on the mind of the person affected.
She lingered by the door, oddly reluctant to go farther. As she stood there, the bushes by the steps rustled. Albert's neatly marked head emerged. He eyed her dubiously for a moment and then meowed.
"I called you last night," Pat said defensively. "It's your own fault if you didn't want to come in."
Mark and Kathy went upstairs. Josef was obviously torn between curiosity and another emotion, but there was no real conflict; he turned to Pat, who was still arguing with the cat.
"Don't come in, then, if you don't want to. But you'll have to make up your mind. I won't leave the door wide open."
The cat took two tentative steps toward her, its tail at half-mast and twitching. Then it spat and bolted into the shrubbery.
"He is acting strangely," Pat said. "I wonder…" Then she heard Mark call from upstairs. "Mom. Mr. Friedrichs. Can you come up here, please?"
The trail of destruction had left debris as far down as the stair landing, where shards of a broken vase glittered. A dent in the plaster showed where it had struck and shattered. The upper hall was strewn with broken glass from pictures. Every one of them had been torn from the wall. Mark's room had taken the brunt of the attack. There was hardly a breakable object left intact, including his camera; but none of the other upstairs rooms had completely escaped. It was as if some large savage animal had been let loose and had ranged up and down, searching and smashing.
The Walker in Shadows Page 18