The Cellar (14 page)

“Larry and I have to go out for a while,” Jud said as he walked Donna across the parking lot after lunch. “I want you and Sandy to stay in our cabin until we get back.”

“Okay.”

No arguments. No questions. Her complete trust gave Jud a good feeling.

He watched her turn to Sandy, who was lagging behind with Larry. Instead of making a rift, yesterday’s incident at the beach had created an intimacy between the girl and Larry. During lunch, they had talked like best friends. Jud found their closeness peculiar under the circumstances, but convenient.

“Sandy,” Donna said, “we’ll be spending a while in Jud and Larry’s room. Do you want to get your cards, or a book, or something to keep you busy?”

The girl nodded.

“We’ll be right out,” Donna said. They went into their cabin, leaving its door open.

Larry, in a quiet voice, said, “The poor child has been devastated.”

“It’s gotta be rough.”

“Rough indeed. She’ll be scarred all her life. That miserable brute ought to be shot.”

“He probably will be.”

“I certainly hope so.”

“Tonight, if we’re lucky.”

“Tonight?”

“There’s a good chance he’ll show up sometime today. If he does, I’m going to be there with a gun.”

“What about Beast House?”

“It can wait another day.”

“I suppose you’re right, though I
would
feel better if we were finished once and for all with…”

“I can’t let this guy get his hands on Donna and Sandy. He’s hurt them enough, already.”

“Certainly. I’m not suggesting we abandon them. Not at all.”

“Besides, going after the beast tonight would be premature.”

“How so?” Larry asked.

“I want to know more. That’s why we’re going to visit the Kutch place this afternoon.”

“Beast House?”

“No. The other one. The one without windows.”

As soon as Jud was certain that Donna could handle his rifle without difficulty, he and Larry drove away. He turned right off Front Street, taking the narrow dirt road that led to the beach. In an area sheltered by trees, he parked.

As Jud took his .45 automatic from the trunk, Larry said, “That, of course, won’t stop the beast.”

Jud tucked the automatic under the belt at the back of his pants, and covered it with his shirttail. “What makes you think we’ll run into the beast? Doesn’t it confine its rampages to Beast House?”

“Nevertheless.”

He watched Larry lift a machete out of the trunk. “Nevertheless what?”

“One never knows, does one?”

Jud shut the trunk. “You can stay in the car, if you want.”

“No. It’s quite all right. I’ll come along. I can hardly resist an opportunity to see inside this curious house. And you’re right, of course: We should be perfectly safe from the beast.”

Jud checked his wristwatch. “Okay, the one-o’clock tour should just be starting. Let’s go.”

“What about Axel?”

“If he’s home, I’ll take care of him. You just stick close beside me.”

“I certainly hope you know what you’re doing.”

Jud didn’t answer that. He led the way through the trees until they ended. Then he dashed across an open space to the back of the garage. Larry followed.

“Do you know if there’s a back door?”

“I’m not certain.”

“Let’s find out.” He walked toward the rear, careful to keep the garage between him and the ticket booth of Beast House, a hundred yards away. When he was even with the rear of the brick house, he rushed across to it.

The back of the house was solid brick.

“No door,” Larry said.

Jud walked through the overgrown yard to the far corner. He peered around it. No door there, either: just the gray metal box of the house’s ventilation system. Across Front Street, the south part of Beast House’s fence and lawn were visible, and deserted. “Stay close to the wall,” Jud said. He wiped sweat off his brow and moved forward.

At the front corner of the house, he stopped. Signaling Larry to stay back, he looked at the ticket booth across the street. The side that faced the street had a closed door, but no windows. As long as Wick Hapson stayed inside, he wouldn’t be able to see Jud.

Beyond the ticket booth, the tour group was clustered near the Beast House porch, probably hearing about Gus Goucher. Jud waited for them to file inside.

“Stay here till I signal.”

“Is Axel home?”

“His pickup’s here.”

“Oh dear.”

“That’s all right. It might make things easier.”

“For heaven’s sake, how?”

“If he’s a trusting soul, the door won’t be locked.”

“Wonderful. Marvelous.”

“Wait here.” Jud again checked the ticket booth, then walked swiftly across the front lawn to the door.

The inner door stood wide open. Jud pressed his face to the screen door, trying to see inside. He couldn’t see much. Except for the light from the doorway, the interior was dark. Quietly, he pulled open the screen door, and entered.

He moved quickly away from the lighted area. For at least a full minute, he stood motionless, listening. Convinced he was alone, he patted the walls near the door and found a switch. He flicked it. A lamp came on, its bulb filling the entryway with dim, blue light.

Directly ahead, stairs led to the upper floor. To the right was a closed door, to the left a room. He stepped into the room. By the faint light from the foyer, he found a lamp. He turned it on. More blue bulbs.

Dark carpeting covered the floor. Pillows and cushions littered it. A lamp stood in a back corner. There was no other furniture.

Jud went to the screen door. Looking through it, he checked the area near the ticket booth for
Wick Hapson. No sign of the man. He opened the door a crack and waved to Larry.

Before Larry reached the door, Jud pressed a forefinger to his own lips. Larry nodded and entered.

Jud pointed out the room with the cushions. Then he stepped to the closed door at the right of the entrance. He pushed it open and found a light switch. It turned on a chandelier over a diningroom table. The chandelier bulbs were blue.

Except for the lighting, Jud found nothing unusual about the dining room. A china cabinet stood in one corner. A large mirror occupied the far wall above a buffet. The table had six chairs, but formal dining tables often had that many. He saw two more matching chairs beside the highboy.

Beyond the head of the table was another door. Jud went to it and pushed it open. The kitchen. He entered it, careful to walk quietly on the linoleum floor. He looked in the refrigerator. Even its interior light was blue. Pointing at the bottom shelf, he grinned at Larry. The shelf held at least two dozen cans of beer.

Next to the refrigerator was a door.

As he began to pull it open, Jud saw light on the other side. Blue light. He opened it farther and looked down a steep flight of stairs to the cellar.

He shut it quietly. Stepping around Larry, he went to the dining room. He brought one of the straight-backed chairs into the kitchen and tipped it against the door, bracing its back under the knob.

Then he motioned for Larry to follow.

They went from the kitchen to the foyer and silently climbed the stairs. Just off the hallway at the top was a large bedroom. They entered it, and Jud turned on its blue overhead light. Larry flinched, and slapped the hilt of his machete. Then he laughed quietly, nervously. “How exotic,” he whispered.

Mirrors ran the length of the walls, and one was attached to the ceiling directly above the large bed. There were no blankets on the bed, only blue satin sheets.

As Larry knelt to look under the bed, Jud checked the closet. The hangers held nothing except robes and more than a dozen nightgowns. He pulled out one of the nightgowns and it filled with air, swaying as if it had no weight at all. Dainty pink bows at the shoulders and hips were all that connected the front and back of the gown. Through the sheer fabric, Jud could see Larry stepping over to the bureau. Jud put the nightgown away.

“Oh dear!” Larry muttered.

Jud rushed over to Larry. The open drawer held four pairs of handcuffs. Looking in another drawer, he and Larry found a pile of steel chain with padlocks. In another was an assortment of bras and panties, garter belts, and nylons. Two of the drawers contained only leather: leather slacks and jackets, brief leather bikinis, vests, and gloves. From a hook at the side of the dresser hung a riding crop.

They shut all the drawers and left.

The bathroom smelled of disinfectant. They quickly searched it, finding nothing unusual except the sunken bathtub. It was large, perhaps seven feet by four, with several metal rings fixed into the tile walls at head level.

“What are those for?” Larry asked.

Jud shrugged. “They look like handles.”

At the far end of the hall, they entered a small room with bookshelves, a desk, and a stuffed chair. By the blue overhead light, Jud made his way to a lamp behind the chair. He turned it on.

“Ah, light,” Larry whispered as white light filled the room. He began to inspect the book titles.

Jud checked the desktop, then the drawers. The drawer on the upper left was locked. Kneeling, he removed a leather case from his pocket. He took out a pick and tension bar, and worked on the lock. It gave him no trouble at all.

The drawer was empty except for a single leather-bound book. A strap with a lock held it shut like a diary. He quickly picked that lock and opened the book to its title page. “My Diary: Being a True Account of My Life and Most Private Affairs, Volume 12, in the year of our Lord 1903.” The name beneath the inscription was Elizabeth Mason Thorn.

“What do you have there?” Larry asked.

“The diary of Lilly Thorn.”

“Good heavens!”

He thumbed through the pages. Three quarters of the way through, he found the final entry. August
2, 1903. “Last night, I waited until Ethel and the boys were asleep. Then I carried a length of rope down to the cellar.” He shut the diary. “We’ll take it,” he whispered. “Now let’s have a look in the other room and get out of here.”

The door of the room across the hallway was shut. Jud twisted the knob. He inched it open.

Larry clutched his arm.

From inside the room came a strange, windy sound. Jud listened closely, ear to the crack. He heard hisses, sighs, a blowing sound like the wind makes coming down a canyon. He silently closed the door.

When they got downstairs, Larry whispered, “That was the beast. It was in there sleeping.”

“I think it was just Axel.”

“Axel, my foot!”

“But he wasn’t alone,” Jud said.

“Indeed not!”

“I heard at least three people in that room. Let’s get out of here.”

“Marvelous suggestion. I’m with you 100 percent.”

The green, metal sign read,
WELCOME TO MALCASA POINT
,
POP
. 400.
DRIVE WITH CARE
. Roy slowed down to 35 miles per hour.

He saw a dozen people lingering near a ticket booth in front of an old Victorian house. He glanced at the sign. Its red lettering wobbled and dripped like wet blood.
BEAST HOUSE
. He grinned, and wondered what the hell it was.

Slowing, he studied the faces of the people near the ticket booth. None looked at all like Donna or Sandy, not even with the changes six years might bring. He kept moving.

He watched the sidewalks for them; he watched the road and parking spaces for their car. A blue Ford Maverick, Karen had said. She wasn’t lying. At that point, she had been beyond lying.

When he saw a blue Maverick parked at a Chevron station, he couldn’t believe his luck. Karen had mentioned car trouble, but that shouldn’t take
so long to repair: He’d expected Donna to have a day on him, at least.

He stopped beside a row of gas pumps. A skinny, sneering man approached his window. “Fill ’er up with Supreme,” Roy said, and wondered if Supreme was what the Rolls took. He decided the gas jockey would’ve made a remark if it didn’t. The guy’d said nothing.

Roy climbed out. It felt good to stand and stretch. His jeans were still damp in the pockets. He scratched his itchy skin and stepped to the rear of the car.

“That Maverick over there,” he said. “It wouldn’t belong to a woman traveling with her daughter, would it?”

“Might.”

“The woman’s thirty-three, blond, a real fox. The kid’s twelve.”

The guy shrugged.

Roy pulled a ten-dollar bill from his wallet. The man eyed it for a moment, then took it and stuffed it into his shirt pocket.

“What’s the woman’s name?” Roy asked.

“I can check.”

“Is it Hayes? Donna Hayes?”

He nodded. “That’s her. I remember the Donna.”

“And she had a kid with her?”

“Little blond gal.”

“How long you been working on the car?”

“Couple days. We brought her in Monday morning.
That’s yesterday. Busted radiator. We had to send over to Santa Rosa for a new one, just got it in.”

“So they’re staying in town?”

“I don’t know where else they’d be.”

“Where are they?”

“Only one motel. That’s the Welcome Inn, about a half mile up the road, on your right.”

Roy gave the man another five dollars. “That’s to keep your mouth shut.”

“How come you’re looking for her?”

“I’m her husband.”

“Oh yeah?” He laughed. “She run out on you?”

“That’s right. And I’m aiming to fix her for that.”

“Don’t blame you a bit. She’s a choice piece, that gal. I’d be pissing steam if she run out on me.”

Roy paid for the gas, then drove half a mile up the road. He saw the restaurant first, a rustic building shaded by evergreens.
WELCOME INN’S CARRIAGE HOUSE
.
FINE DINING
. A short distance beyond it was a coffee shop. Then a driveway led into a courtyard with about half a dozen cabins on each side. Just past the driveway entrance stood the motel office. The red tubing of the neon
VACANCY
sign was lit.

Roy kept driving, suddenly nervous.

So close. He didn’t want to blow it, now. He needed time to think.

He drove up the road until he found a wide shoulder. There, he pulled off and shut down the engine. He checked his wristwatch. Nearly three-fifteen.

Donna’s car is at the Chevron station, he thought. Okay. If she picks it up today, she either leaves right away, or spends the night. If she leaves, she’ll drive past here. He could simply wait and stop her somehow.

What if she heads south? No, she wouldn’t do that. Not after making a beeline north like this.

Still, she might.

Or she might stay another night at the inn.

That’d be easy enough to find out. Just check in the motel office. If she’s planning to stay over, she would’ve registered by now.

He couldn’t check the office, though. She might find out.

Well, not necessarily. He could go to the office, get her cabin number, and drive right to her door before she had a chance to find out anything, take precautions, call the cops. He could bust in, grab her and the kid, get out before anyone knows what hit.

Not a chance. People would see. There’d be cops after them so quick…

Why take them anywhere? Just go in, shut them up, and stay inside. Plenty of privacy. Even beds. Stay as long as he felt like it.

What if they’re out?

If they’re out, they might ask at the office, and find out he’d been there asking.

“Shit,” he muttered, seeing his plan fall apart.

Okay, getting the number from the office is out.
That leaves one way to learn which cabin is theirs: Stake the place out. Watch for them.

He spent a few moments wondering about the best way to keep watch on the cabins, then climbed out of the car. He took his pack from the backseat and slipped his arms through the straps. Then he opened the trunk. Joni was conscious. He lifted her out by the arms.

They walked along the roadside until Roy saw the office of the Welcome Inn about fifty yards ahead. Then he led Joni into the trees. The twigs and pine cones of the forest floor hurt her bare feet, and she started to cry.

“Stop that.”

“It hurts.”

“Do you want me to carry you?”

She nodded.

Roy grinned, remembering how she’d refused a similar offer, just last night. Maybe she was beginning to trust him. He bent down. She wrapped an arm around the back of his neck, as if she’d had a lot of practice. Roy hooked one arm under her back and the other behind her knees. He lifted, and began to walk with her through the trees.

He enjoyed carrying Joni this way. She was light enough so it caused little strain. Her arm reaching around his neck seemed almost friendly, though he knew she only did it for her own security. Her face was close to his. With a slight forward shift of his head, he could brush his cheek against the softness
of her hair. The backs of her legs were bare against his right arm. As he walked, he caressed the velvety side of her thigh. Her free hand made no effort to stop him.

Soon a row of cabins came into view. They were painted like redwood, with slanted roofs. They had windows in back, but no doors.

Staying far away from the cabins, Roy worked his way past the end one. A break in the trees gave him a view of the parking area. It curved slightly southward between the cabins. From its angle, he figured that the windows of the nearest cabin on the left should give him a view of all the other cabin fronts.

He made a wide sweep through the woods, and came up directly behind it. He grinned. The angle of the cabin’s rear side shielded it from the other cabins. He set Joni onto her feet.

“What are you doing?” she whispered.

Whispered. He liked that.

“I’m getting us a place to stay.”

The window sill was level with Roy’s head. The window was shut.

“I’m gonna lift you up,” he whispered. “Tell me who’s inside.” He put down his backpack and patted his shoulder.

Joni climbed onto his shoulders. She held the top of his head. Gripping her knees, Roy slowly stood until her eyes were level with the bottom of the window.

“Closer,” she said. She leaned forward, thighs
pressing the sides of his head. Hands cupped to her eyes, she peered into the window screen. “Higher,” she whispered.

He raised her. “Who’s there?”

“Nobody.”

“Are you sure?”

“Huh?”

“Is anyone there?”

“No.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

He lowered her to the ground, and she climbed off. “You’re not lying, are you?”

“I don’t tell lies,” she said solemnly.

“Okay. You’d better not.”

“I’m hungry.”

“We’ll eat when we get inside.”

“What?”

“I’ve got lots of stuff in the pack. But first we have to get in there.”

“How?”

He didn’t answer. He led her to the right side of the cabin. There were two windows on the side, but they could be seen from the cabin across the parking area. He didn’t want to chance being seen. They returned to the single rear window.

He could only get in by breaking it.

That would mean noise.

What were the alternatives? He could walk to the door of an occupied cabin, knock, and knife his way in. Someone might see him, though. And
if he screwed it up there might be a scream. That’d be worse, by far, than a little breaking glass.

Maybe he should go under the cabin and watch for Donna from there. Kneeling, he looked into the crawl space under the elevated floor. It was a couple of feet high. Plenty of room. He ought to have a good view from the front.

It would be filthy, though. All kinds of bugs and spiders. Slugs. Maybe even rats. No telling how long he would have to wait: maybe hours. And what would he do with Joni? The hell with that.

With his knife, he pried loose the two lower clamps of the window screen. He worked the screen loose and propped it against the wall.

Reaching into the pack, he took out his flashlight. “Okay,” he said, “onto my shoulders.”

Joni climbed on.

Roy handed the flashlight to her. He straightened up. “See up there? Where the window ends?”

“Here?” She pointed to the wood crossbeam at the bottom of the upper window.

“Right. Break the glass just above that, then you can undo the latch. Use the end of the flashlight. Hit it hard.”

“Here?”

“A little more to the left.”

“Here?”

“Yeah. Now hit it hard so it breaks the first time.”

Holding him across the forehead with one hand, she swung. Roy heard the loud slam of the
flashlight striking glass. The glass didn’t break. “Hard!” he muttered. “Hit it hard! Hard as you can.” He waited. “Go ahead, damn it!”

The flashlight crashed down on his head. Again. Again. Pain streaked through his skull. He put a hand up. The flashlight struck his fingers.

Ducking, he rammed Joni into the wall. She cried out and dropped the flashlight. Roy reached up. He grabbed her blouse and tugged. The girl tumbled over his head. Her back slammed the ground.

“Hey!”

Roy looked toward the corner. A teenage girl stood there, holding towels in her arms.

“What the hell are you doing?” she demanded. She sounded more angry than afraid.

In an instant, Roy had his knife out. He pressed it to Joni’s belly. “I’m gonna kill this little girl if you don’t come over here.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Run or yell, and I’ll gut her like a catfish.”

The girl began to shake her head. “You’re sick,” she said.

“Come here.”

With short, hesitant steps, the girl began to approach him. Her eyes watched him closely, as if trying to figure him out.

He watched how the late-afternoon breeze ruffled her hair. He watched how her small breasts jiggled seductively inside her white T-shirt. He watched her lean, tanned legs.

“What’re you doing here?” he asked.

“I might ask you the same thing.”

“Just answer.”

“I own the place.”

“You?”

“My family.”

“Then you’ve got keys,” he said, and grinned.