Mary Had a Little Scare

by Wendy Meadows

  “Get to the point,” Mary snapped.

  “The birth certificate,” Matthew explained in a calm voice. “All I need is my brother’s certificate and I will be on my way. You will force your friend Betty to locate the birth certificate and bring it to me. If she refuses, I will shoot her. It’s that simple,” Matthew told Mary. “Tonight, you will choose to help a…monster…in order to save a friend or remain foolish and stand by your code of honor.”

  “I’ll—”

  Matthew held up his hand again. “There is more, my dear,” he continued. “Before we even venture down the road with your friend Betty you will first kill Brenda and that lovely princess lying unconscious upstairs. I wish to narrow down the pawns on the chessboard, my dear.” Matthew lowered his left hand. “If you refuse to obey me and carry out my demands, your friend Betty will certainly die.”

  Mary stared at Matthew and then thought about Brenda. Matthew had hidden Brenda in the living room instead of stashing her away in some hidden room. He made it appear that he had hidden Brenda in a very secret place, but his words were merely meant to deceive. Mary began wondering if Betty was truly hidden in a secret location or maybe in plain sight. She glanced toward the pantry door and then looked back at Matthew. “Where is Betty?” she demanded, hoping Matthew’s response would give her some sort of a clue to her best friend’s whereabouts.

  “In a very clever location.” Matthew grinned. He picked up his coffee cup, took a sip, and continued. “You will become a monster yourself tonight, my dear.”

  Mary began wondering why Matthew had spared Sarah’s life. Why was he keeping Brenda alive? Betty was being kept alive because she had been clever enough to hide the birth certificate, but Sarah and Brenda…why were they left alive if Matthew was going to order their deaths?

  Then Mary understood. The storm lifted from her mind and a bright, clear, blue sky appeared. He’s going to frame me for everyone’s murder, she thought. This monster is going to force me to kill everyone and then frame me for their murders and walk away with Ralph’s fortune.

  “What if I decided to…uphold my code of honor?” Mary asked as a powerful wave of thunder erupted and shook the entire kitchen.

  “My dear, dying can be very painful…if one chooses to take that path,” Matthew replied. “If you refuse to obey me, then I will be forced to shoot you dead at this very moment and then kill your friend…very slowly, ensuring she feels a great deal of pain and…horror.” Matthew’s eyes turned dark. “I will kill Brenda with a single bullet and ensure that sleeping princess upstairs has a pillow placed over her face…but your friend Betty will certainly suffer a tragic and very painful death. Is that what you want?”

  “No,” Mary whispered. In her mind she saw Betty tied down in a hidden room being tortured by a hideous monster. In her mind she saw open caskets soaking in Betty’s poor screams. “No, I don’t want to see my dear friend suffer.”

  “Very good.” Matthew grinned and then began throwing lies at Mary. “If you obey me, my dear, I will let you and your friend leave this mansion without any harm coming to you. I will also ensure you leave well rewarded.”

  “Well rewarded?”

  “I have a bag full of very beautiful diamonds that I give to you as a…reward,” Matthew told Mary. “You and your dear friend Betty will be given the bag of diamonds and sent on your way in peace. The only hardship you will have is walking into town to find help for your car.”

  Is he really expecting me to believe his lies? Mary thought, staring into Matthew’s deadly eyes. Yes, that monster is expecting me to believe him. “Keep your diamonds, you monster. All I want is my friend. Cousin Brenda and Sarah…I barely know them. Betty is my heart.”

  Matthew grinned and took pleasure in how simple it was to outwit a silly woman whose threat level turned out to be a zero instead of a ten. “Ah, the heart will always cause the good to die young,” he said.

  “Where is Betty?” Mary demanded, ignoring Matthew’s statement. “I want to see my friend.”

  “Not so quickly, my dear,” Matthew warned. “First you must carry out your…chores. You will place a knife into Brenda and a pillow over the sleeping princess. Is that clear?”

  Mary lowered her eyes. “I…understand,” she said. “May I…sit here a minute and gather up the courage?”

  “Certainly, my dear.” Matthew beamed. “Taking a life is very difficult on a person who possesses a conscience.”

  Mary kept her eyes low. “May I…have a cup of coffee?” she asked. “I feel weak and need energy.”

  “Of course,” Matthew said and slowly stood to his feet. “Would you like a sandwich with your coffee?”

  “A sandwich would be nice,” Mary told Matthew, raising her eyes just enough to see the pantry door. “Betty, please be inside that pantry,” she whispered and rotated her eyes to the fire iron. If she went for the fire iron Matthew would certainly shoot her. But the wooden stove was close enough to the pantry door to make a run for it. “I’ll pour my own cup of coffee if you’ll make me a sandwich.”

  Matthew beamed again, believing he had forced a wild horse into submission. “Your manners are welcomed on a night like this,” he told Mary. “You may go pour a cup of coffee and I will make you a sandwich.”

  Mary carefully stood up, walked over to a kitchen cabinet, retrieved a brown cup, and started walking toward the wooden stove. She glanced over her shoulder along the way and saw Matthew opening the 1935 Westinghouse refrigerator. “Don’t miss,” she begged.

  “What?” Matthew asked. When he turned to look at Mary, he saw a coffee cup flying through the air. The cup struck his face and made him stumble backward. As he did, Mary stormed to the pantry door, yanked it open, and ran inside. And there, tied up and sitting on the pantry floor, was Betty.

  “Oh, Betty,” Mary cried.

  Betty tried to speak but a green rag shoved in her mouth stopped her. Instead, she watched Mary grab a heavy bag of flour, open it, and brace herself in front of the pantry door. “Flour is no match for a gun but it’s all I have,” Mary told Betty and waited for Matthew to come racing into the pantry.

  As Mary waited for battle, back in the hidden room Sarah’s eyes slowly opened. “What happened…where am I…” she asked in a weak voice. “Where…am I?” Sarah slowly managed to raise her head and look around. Her eyes wandered around a strange room. “Hello?” she called out. “Hello…is anyone here?” When no voice answered Sarah’s cry, she forced herself to stand up and stumbled over to a wall that had dim light coming from two small holes. She fell against the wall and managed to look through the two holes. “A…bedroom…hello?” Sarah cried out. “Please…I’m behind the wall…is anyone there?” Again, no one answered her.

  Afraid and confused, Sarah stumbled away from the wall and managed to find her way out of the hidden room she was trapped in. She began roaming around the hidden hallways lost and dazed. And then she stumbled into a certain room that stabbed her in the heart.

  “No,” she cried, her memory bringing up the image of her father lying in the room covered with a blanket. “I…remember this room.” Sarah grabbed her head. “I…I remember this room but…how?” Sarah looked down at the floor as her mind struggled to clear. “I remember…Father…being sick…and…” Sarah stopped talking. “Matthew,” she then said in a painful voice that suddenly filled with fury. “Matthew killed my father…” Gathering as much strength as her weak body could muster, Sarah stumbled out of the room and slowly began making her way down a long, dim hallway like a broken rose full of thorns.

  Downstairs, Mary waited for Matthew to snatch open the pantry door. “Betty,” she whispered, “if we live through this night remind me to never leave home again.” Betty mumbled something at Mary. Mary bit down on her lower lip. “I know your mother is not going to be pleased.”

  Betty sighed and stared at the pantry door. What else could she do? She was tied up, gagged, and helpless. But at least Mary had come to her rescue—and at least she had
managed to hide the birth certificate in the bedroom with the disabled telephone. If Mary had taught her anything it was to learn how to think on her feet. Of course, staying on her feet instead of fainting all the time was a problem—but at least she was taking baby steps. After all, being friends with Mary was becoming a hazardous occupation. However, Betty thought as the pantry door slowly began to open, being friends with Mary was a beautiful gift that she would not give up for the world…even if it meant dying in a dark and stormy night trapped in a creepy mansion.

  “Here we go,” Mary whispered, watching the pantry door open and preparing to fire a bag of flour at a deadly old man intent on ensuring the dark night remained dark…forever.

  Matthew eased open the pantry door with fury in his eyes. “There is nowhere to run to, my dear,” he hissed. “The time for playing games has come to an end…and so has your life. I offered you a very generous deal and you have chosen a foolish answer. Now you and your friend will die.”

  “Get ready,” Mary whispered.

  Matthew prepared his gun, pulled the pantry door fully open, and aimed to fire at the first person he saw. Instead of seeing a person he saw a large bag of flour flying at his face. The flour bag struck hard. Flour exploded into the air, turning the inside of the pantry into a thick, white, foggy nightmare. Matthew began waving at his face as he backed away from the pantry door. His face and eyes were caked with flour.

  “You miserable woman!” he hissed. He lifted his gun into the air and began blindly firing into the pantry.

  Mary threw her body down onto the floor just in time to miss a flying bullet. She crawled over to Betty and pulled her down. “Stay down,” she begged. Betty didn’t have a problem staying down. As soon as the bullets began flying, she fainted. “Oh Betty,” Mary cried as Matthew continued to fire his gun at the pantry. When the bullets ran out, Mary quickly raised her head, crawled over to the pantry door, and saw Matthew throw down his gun, wipe flour from his eyes, and race toward the kitchen counter and grab a knife.

  “Now you die!” Matthew growled. He began slowly walking toward the pantry like a hideous monster creeping out of a dark grave. “You were given a choice and you failed to be wise,” he hissed. “I was hoping to accomplish my mission without any more bother, but it seems that I will simply have to kill all of you and search the mansion myself for the birth certificate.”

  Mary jumped to her feet, looked around the pantry, spotted a broom, and snatched it up. Sure, she knew a broom was no match for a knife, but in her panicked state she couldn’t think of using anything else to protect Betty with. There was no time to drag Betty through the small hidden door and there was no chance of using the fire iron because Matthew was blocking her way. All Mary could think to do was stand over Betty’s body with the broom and fight. She whispered a desperate prayer and prepared for Matthew to attack. “I know he’s an old man but he’s still very deadly,” she whispered in a shaky voice.

  Matthew reached the pantry and stepped into the doorway. He spotted Mary through a weakening cloud of flour dust. “My dear,” he said in a furious tone, “your end has come. Why make this battle any more difficult than it needs to be?”

  “I’ll wallop you good,” Mary threatened Matthew, waving the broom she was holding in the air. “Stay back.”

  A deadly grin appeared on Matthew’s face. “You are very amusing,” he said, “and so very lovely. It’s a shame that I’m going to have to kill you. But before I do, I would like to confess something to you.”

  “What?” Mary asked.

  “I enjoyed killing my brother. Killing him activated a…new energy…inside of these old bones,” Matthew told Mary. “I admit my brother was more clever than me. And perhaps he would have handled this situation in a more…kosher…manner. I admit that I dragged this story down a bumpy road instead of placing it on a smooth sea as I had hoped. But nevertheless,” Matthew’s grin widened, “it’s the winning that matters, my dear. This is checkmate. Yes, the chess game was a bit messy, but I won.”

  Mary saw insanity dance across Matthew’s dark eyes. A cold chill ran down her heart and settled into her stomach. She wasn’t dealing with a man—no, Mary was fighting an actual monster in human form. “You’re insane!” she yelled.

  “Am I?” Matthew asked. “Perhaps a dose of insanity is good for a…gentleman before bed,” he said and raised the kitchen knife he was holding in his right hand into the air. “My dear, it’s time to die.”

  As Mary braced herself, Sarah stumbled downstairs and crashed down into the foyer. She heard a noise and threw her head toward the living room. And there, lying on the floor, was Brenda.

  “Help me!” Brenda cried out. “I can’t crawl any further…my hands are tied behind my back…please help me.”

  “Where is…Mary?” Sarah asked in a weak voice.

  “Mary went into the kitchen,” Brenda explained. “She needed a knife to cut me loose, but she hasn’t come back yet. I think Matthew got her. Oh please, help me.”

  Sarah struggled to her feet and felt her heart. “Have to hurry,” she said and began making her way toward the kitchen. As she did, she heard a scratching sound at the front door. “Have to—”

  “That’s the dog wanting in,” Brenda screamed. “Let him inside…he hates Matthew…let him in…” Brenda begged.

  Sarah fought to clear her mind and remain standing. “You set the dog loose on Mary—”

  “I didn’t mean to,” Brenda insisted. “I didn’t know who arrived tonight. I was afraid it was someone Matthew had sent to hurt me. I set the dog loose to protect me. I didn’t know the dog was going to try to harm Mary and Cousin Betty, honest.” Brenda began crying. “Mother only wanted me to be happy. She said Ralph left me everything he owned in his will. Please…I’m not a bad person.”

  “My father divided his will between three people,” Sarah told Brenda in a weak voice. “You, Betty, and myself. Even though you were not his real daughter he still loved you…and you betrayed him. You knew he was hurt and did nothing to help him…and that makes you guilty.”

  “I know…I know,” Brenda cried in a miserable voice. “I should have called the sheriff on Matthew, but I listened to my mother instead.” Brenda looked at Sarah. “Please, let me help…let the dog in. He hates Matthew. He’ll track Matthew down…I promise.”

  Sarah stared at Brenda, saw true repentance in her eyes, and quickly opened the front door. As soon as she did, a huge, terrifying black and white dog stormed into the foyer, looked at Sarah, and began slowly approaching her.

  “No,” Brenda yelled, “go attack Matthew, you miserable dog!” The dog stopped, turned its head to the side, and then, as if it truly understood what Brenda had yelled at him, the dog sniffed the air and then charged away toward the kitchen. “He’s going after Matthew,” Brenda told Sarah.

  Sarah nodded, drew in all the strength left in her weak body, and began making her way toward the kitchen.

  As Sarah came toward the kitchen, Matthew stepped deep into the pantry. “My dear, put down the broom and face your end with dignity.” He leered at Mary. “It is…ugly…to die without grace.”

  Mary waved the broom in her hand at Matthew. “Stay back, you crazy old man!” she yelled. “I’ll bash you upside the head if you take one step closer.”

  Matthew continued to grin. “Will you?” he asked and pointed the kitchen knife at Mary. “Then let us play ugly,” he said and prepared to lunge. As he did, a loud, vicious growl arose from behind him. Matthew froze, and the knife dropped from his hand. “Oh my,” he said in a voice that quickly became consumed with fear. He slowly turned and saw the attack dog standing mere inches behind him flashing its razor-sharp teeth in the air. “Good…dog,” Matthew squeaked in a terrified voice. “Good…dog.”

  Mary stared at the vicious dog. “Good timing, you awful creature,” she whispered and quickly grabbed Matthew’s knife and began cutting Betty loose. Betty woke up as Mary struggled to free her. “Get to the door, now…go,” Mary be
gged, cutting away the last knot.

  “Huh…what?” Betty asked in a confused voice.

  “Killer dog…right there.” Mary pointed to the dog. “Hurry.”

  “Oh dear,” Betty said and managed to crawl to her knees. She rushed to the hidden door, pulled it open, and dived through.

  “Good…dog,” Matthew said and slowly began inching back into the pantry. He looked at Mary. “Help me.”

  Mary pulled the hidden door open. “No way.” She quickly scrambled through the door and slammed it shut, leaving Matthew trapped in the pantry.

  Matthew let out a horrible moan, backed all the way into the pantry, and waited for his end to come. And his end did come. The vicious dog stepped into the pantry, stared at Matthew, and then attacked. All Mary and Betty heard from inside the small hidden door was Matthew screaming as the dog tore him apart.

  When the dog finished with Matthew, it walked out into the kitchen, spotted Sarah standing in the doorway, and then simply lay down on the floor. Sarah stumbled past the dog, looked into the pantry, spotted Matthew lying dead on the floor, and called out: “Mary…Betty?”

  “Sarah!” Mary exclaimed. She kicked the small door open, scrambled out with Betty, and ran to Sarah. When she saw the dog lying on the kitchen floor, she froze. “Sarah…get inside the pantry,” she whispered.

  Sarah shook her head. “I think that dog got what he wanted…and so did I,” she said and collapsed into Mary’s arms, unconscious.

  As she did, a strange man appeared in the foyer, spotted Brenda, grabbed her up, and raced out into the dark, rainy night. Cousin Brenda was never seen or heard from ever again.

  “Is she…dead?” Betty asked in a fearful voice.

  Mary gently placed Sarah’s body down on the kitchen floor. “Yes,” she said and began to cry. “But at least…she got to see justice served before she died.”