SHUDDERVILLE THREE (6 page)

“I’m so sorry. Did I forget to introduce myself? Pardon me.”

“That’s okay. How long have you lived here, Delilah?”

“All of Andy’s life.”

“Really? And he’s like what—twelve?”

“Fourteen. Small for his age. I forgot to ask. Do you like egg sandwiches?”

“Sure. I guess.” Cassie frowned. Not really, she thought.

“I’ll make you some sandwiches for the road.”

“Oh please don’t bother.”

“No bother at all.”

“Okay. Thanks. So you’ve lived here for fourteen years?”

“Maybe a little longer.” The kitchen floor was uneven, and the cracked linoleum made popping sounds as Delilah walked across it. She stood at the counter peeling hard-boiled eggs into a dish. “Whole wheat or white?”

“Whole wheat, please.” Cassie didn’t really want any sandwiches, but she figured they could always throw them away. “By the way, we noticed a lot of houses around here for sale.”

“Terrible, isn’t it? It’s happening all over the country.”

“Yeah, but I mean… it seems especially bad here.”

“We were hard hit when the plant closed down.”

“Plant?”

“Manufacturing.” She nodded vaguely.

“Can I ask you something, Delilah?”

She looked so thin and frail you could’ve blown her over with one swift breath.

“Why did Tobias put you on that list?”

“I have no idea,” she said with exaggerated innocence.

“Are you sure you’ve never met him? Little old guy with a crooked nose and white hair? He’s got a limp, walks with a cane?”

Delilah shook her head. “I believe I would’ve remembered that.”

“Maybe he called himself by another name? Or maybe you met him way back when?”

Delilah shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

“What about Isabelle?” Cassie asked curiously, and Delilah’s back stiffened. “Your little girl told me her sister Isabelle helps people. How?”

“Isabelle can’t help anyone. She’s in a convalescent hospital. She’s very ill. She needs constant, round-the-clock care.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” Cassie said, genuinely apologetic. She realized she’d been insensitive and rude.

With uncharacteristic belligerence, Delilah squashed a hard-boiled egg flat with her hand and shouted, “Kids? Lunch is ready! Come wash your hands!”

It gave Cassie a start. She blinked at her uncomfortably.

Blushing crimson, Delilah hurried over to the sink to rinse the egg off her hands.

Olive and Andy came tumbling into the house, bringing the smell of the outdoors with them. They flung off their jackets and raced for the table.

Delilah brought them their sandwiches on a plate. “Don’t make me say it twice.”

They obediently scraped their chairs back and went over to the kitchen sink to wash their hands. Just like kids anywhere, they jockeyed for position, seeing who could finish first. They tussled over the hand towel and returned to the table, where they scraped their chairs back, sat down and dug in, taking messy bites of their egg-salad sandwiches, crumbs and bits of hard-boiled egg mixed with mayonnaise tumbling down their chins.

Cassie heard leathery footsteps overhead.

Soon Ryan came tripping down the stairs, saying, “Want to show me that washing machine?”

“Are you sure I can’t pay you for this?” Delilah offered, nervously patting her apron pockets.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t even know if I can fix it. Is it down here?” Ryan pointed to a door and Delilah nodded. “Back in a jiffy,” he told Cassie with a wink.

Cassie smiled at him. Soon they’d be on their way.

“Right this way.” Delilah led him down into the basement, the door automatically creaking shut behind them. One of those old doors on crooked hinges.

Cassie could hear their muffled voices as they descended the stairs, and soon she could barely hear them at all.

After a moment, she caught the little girl staring at her and smiled. Her bouncy hair and shiny eyes were in stark contrast to her solemn face. “She was murdered,” Olive said softly. “Your grandmother. A long time ago.”

Cassie was so startled by this that she put down her coffee before it sloshed all over the table. “How do you know?” she gasped.

Olive shrugged.

“She
knows
things,” Andy chimed in.

The little girl moved her hand like she was cracking a bullwhip. “I just
know
.”

Cassie paused to gather her composure. “What else do you know about me?” she asked.

Olive shrugged. “I know you don’t like us,” she said.

“That’s not true. You scare me a little. But I like you just fine.”

“No, you don’t,” Olive insisted. “You don’t like us at all.”

“Hey, Olive. Don’t eat and talk at the same time,” Andy reminded his sister.

“I won’t choke.”

“Shut up and sit straight.”

Olive fell silent and ate with methodical deliberation, taking small ladylike bites of her sandwich and sipping her lemonade with her pinkie finger extended. When she was done she let out a long, loud belch that provoked peels of laughter from her big brother. Then she looked at Cassie and said, “You think we’re
creepy
.”

“Yes,” Cassie admitted. “But only just a little.”

“We aren’t creepy!” Andy huffed.

“Tell me what else you know about me,” Cassie said.

“Let’s see.” Olive tapped her chin. “Your grandmother was stabbed by a
bad
guy
.”

Cassie’s mouth fell open.

“He wrapped her in duct tape so she couldn’t breath.”

How could she possibly know all this? They’d arrived unannounced. Nobody knew they were coming. Except for Tobias Mandelbaum. Which meant that Delilah Kincaid was lying. Maybe they were in on the joke together? Delilah and Tobias.

“They never found out who did it.” Olive cupped her hands over her mouth and whispered, “They never arrested him. But then, he just…
stopped killing people
.”

“How do you know all this? Who told you?”

“Nobody.” She smiled proudly, all puffed up. “I just know.”

“Olive knows lots of things,” Andy said, a trickle of mayonnaise sliding down his chin. He wiped it off with the back of his hand and swept his hand across his pants.

“Duct tape,” Olive said softly. “He covered her head in
duct
tape
.”

Cassie shuddered. The little girl was mimicking her expression, tilting her head to one side and flashing a grimace to match her own. One of the big deals in Cassie’s family had been the death of her maternal grandmother, Eleanor Emerson Rose. She’d been murdered in Phoenix in 1971, and they’d never caught her killer. The police still didn’t have a clue.

“Hey!” Andy said. “Want to see something weird?” He shot out of his seat, waddled into the hallway, grabbed his threadbare jacket off the coat rack and stood expectantly in the doorway. “You coming?”

“Yes!” Olive cried happily. “Let’s go!”

“Where are we going?” Cassie asked warily.

“To see something cool,” Andy said. “Right up the hill.”

“It’s just up the hill! We found it this morning!” Olive fetched her jacket and grabbed Cassie’s hand. “Come with us!”

She shook her head. “I’m waiting for Ryan.”

“It’ll only take a second,” Andy argued.

“Come on!” the little girl pleaded. “You have to see this!”

“See what? What is it?”

“It’s a secret. A surprise. Oh, you’ll love it! I swear!” Olive pulled and tugged and practically yanked her out of her chair. She was surprisingly strong for such a tiny little person. “Pretty please with sugar on top?”

“We’ll be right back,” Andy promised.

“We’ll come right back,” Olive pleaded as she tugged Cassie toward the door.

“Okay, okay.” She bent down to Olive’s level. “But only if you’ll tell me about Isabelle.”

The little girl’s eyes went round with shock, but she reluctantly agreed and said, “Deal.”

“Good.” Cassie found her jacket in the hallway and paused for a moment before opening the door to the basement. “Ryan?” she called down the stairs.

“Yeah?” he shouted back.

“We’re going for a walk, okay? Be right back.”

“Okay,” he said.

She heard Delilah murmur something right before she closed the door. It sounded as if everything was okay, and they had time for this, and besides she was curious about Isabelle, the mysterious convalescing sister. She wanted to know how Olive could’ve known such a dreadful thing about Cassie’s family. She knew the little girl would spill everything if she pressed her hard enough, and she suspected that Tobias Mandelbaum was involved. She wanted to expose his scheme and put it to rest, once and for all.

She followed the children out of the house and inhaled the sweet piney woodsy smell. They scrambled over an old stonewall down back that led into a field of wild grass, and then Andy raced ahead of them, shouting and waving his arms like a lunatic. Soon about a hundred birds flew out of the field. They rose higher and higher into the hard blue sky, circling overhead and crying out like pathetic lost souls.

“So tell me about Isabelle,” Cassie said, squeezing Olive’s moist little hand.

“She’s my sister. We’re twins. Identical. Not fraternal.”

“Where is she?”

“Away,” she hedged.

“Away in the hospital?”

Olive sighed. “She’s very, very, very, very,
very
sick.”

“What’s wrong with her?”

Olive shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“But you told me she helps people. Are you lying? How can she help people if she’s very, very, very,
very
sick?”

Andy squinted back at them through the thick pudding of his gaze. He blinked his eerily pale eyelashes and bellowed, “Get the lead out, slowpokes!”

Olive told Cassie, “I’ll tell you when we get to the top of the hill. I’ll tell you everything then.”

“No. Tell me now.”

Olive shook her small, neat head. “When we get to the top, I’ll tell you.”

“Hey, guys!” Andy was far ahead of them, leading the way. “Last one up the hill’s a rotten egg!”

“Eek!” Olive released Cassie’s hand and hurried after him.

Cassie laughed and ran, too. They raced up the hill through the thigh-high dead grass. It was like trying to run underwater. It was fun and frustrating all at once. Cassie eventually caught up with Andy, while Olive fell behind them. Huffing and puffing.

Above their heads, birds teased the air.

“I’m coming!” the little girl cried.

Cassie caught up with Andy and said breathlessly, “Where are we going?”

He pointed to the edge of the woods. “Almost there. Come on!”

She trudged along after him, and they reached an old stonewall and collapsed on it, breathing hard. Andy wheezed and gasped for breath until Cassie worried he might be having an asthma attack. She watched him turn from crimson to pink to—finally—the chalky paleness she’d first witnessed. The brilliant afternoon sunlight gradually bled into the shadowy thickness of the forest behind them.

“Where’s Olive?” Cassie asked, noticing the girl’s absence.

“I don’t know.”

“She was right behind us. Where’d she go?”

“Twice in one day is too much for her,” Andy said, wheezing and coughing. “She’ll show up. She always does.”

Cassie could see the distant house beneath a lacy stand of shade trees, but she couldn’t spot Olive on the hillside or anywhere on the property. Maybe she was hiding? Playing hide-and-seek? Lying in the grass and watching the birds circle the sky? Or hiding in the woods? Cassie stood up. “Okay, here I am. Now what is it you wanted to show me? Olive?” she called into the woods. “Where’d you go?”

“You’ve got to see this!” Andy struggled to his feet and waddled over to a bald spot and knelt on the furrowed ground. He examined a baseball-sized rock and put it down. He picked up something else, something tiny, and pinched it between his stubby fingers. He scrutinized it closely, as if he could see it on a subatomic level. Soon he grew bored and tossed it away.

“What was that?” she asked, her curiosity peaked.

“Nothing. Wait ‘til you see what we found!” He took a small trowel out of his jacket pocket, brushed aside some ferns and started to dig a hole in the ground.

“What are we looking for?” she asked with growing impatience.

“You’ll see.” He scooped more dirt out with the little trowel.

She studied his stooped form, his plaid pants and rainbow suspenders. He huffed and puffed, telegraphing his pitiful loneliness out into the world.

She looked back at the house and couldn’t see Olive anywhere. She squinted into the woods and hollered, “Olive? Where are you?” The wind blew through the leaves, creating shadows that drifted across the forest floor. “I hope we haven’t lost her.”

Andy started to talk while he dug. He chatted amiably about school and TV shows and video games. He told her what kinds of food he liked, and what kinds he hated. Once he’d dug a hole deep enough, he stepped back, tucked the trowel in his jacket pocket and said, “Yup. Mama said to keep you away from the house.”

“What?” She froze.

The wind made the grass tremor around their ankles.

“Mama said to take you up here and keep you away from the house.”

She could feel her insides turning to sludge. “Why?”

He stuck out his tongue and laughed at her. His breath came out in a wheeze. “I dunno,” he said with a shrug. “Maybe you’d better ask her.”

*

Cassie tore off down the hill, slogging through the dead grass and almost tripping over her own two feet. Fear hammered down on her as she opened the front door and shouted, “Ryan? Where are you?”

She couldn’t stop shaking as she tore open the basement door. “Ryan? Are you down here?” Her teeth chattered like marbles in a bureau drawer as she tromped down the stairs.

The basement was empty. The washer-dryer stood unattended. Her shoes rasped against the stairs as she hurried back up, shouting his name. She opened random cupboards and drawers in the kitchen until she found a knife and grabbed it. Then she paused to listen. She could hear strange sounds coming from the second floor.

“Ryan?” she cried, terrified for him, but there was no response.