The Midnight Tour (15 page)

Sandy saw tears in the woman’s eyes.

“Are you all right?”

“Nebber had me no pamily bepore.”

Feeling a tightness in her throat, Sandy smiled at Lib and said, “I don’t know if we’re quite a family yet, but I reckon we’re partners.”

“Pards.” Lib sniffed, then reached out and squeezed Sandy’s shoulder. “Pards to da end.”

Chapter Ten

THE DAY TOUR II

After the brilliant sunlight, the gloom inside Beast House made Owen feel as if he’d stepped into a dark closet. He took off his sunglasses. That helped.

“Good morning,” said a guide who was waiting inside the doorway. The nameplate on the front of her tan shirt read SHARON. Blonde, blue-eyed, slender and deeply tanned, she was the best-looking guide so far. “Station Number Two is just inside the parlor there, but feel free to wander anywhere.”

“Thanks,” Owen said.

As they crossed the foyer, he noticed people starting up the stairway and others wandering into a narrow corridor beside the stairs. A couple came out of the parlor. He recognized them from the group in front of the porch. He thought they’d been on the bus, too, but wasn’t sure. They didn’t act as if they recognized him or Monica.

Which didn’t surprise him.

Put a set of earphones on someone, he’d noticed, and the rest of the world pretty much disappears. Everything goes away except the sounds inside the person’s head.

In the parlor, Owen found half a dozen people standing near a plush red cordon, gazing at the body on the floor. He couldn’t find a sign to confirm that this was the second station of the tour; maybe someone was standing in front of it. But Janice on the tape
and
Sharon had directed them here. Also, some of the tourists looked like those who’d been gathered near the porch stairs.

Monica didn’t seem to be in doubt. She thumbed her cassette player into action. Owen went ahead and turned his on.

“Welcome to Station Two,” said Janice’s voice. “You should be in the parlor, where Ethel Hughes was the first to die on the night of August 2, 1903. That’s her body, stretched out on the floor beside the couch.”

Owen stared at the wax figure. It was sprawled on the floor, one leg up, its foot still resting on the seat cushion of the couch. There was terror on Ethel’s face. She looked as if she’d died in the midst of a scream. Her white gown was bloodstained and shredded. Its tatters hung down her body, showing skin that had been savagely torn by claws and teeth.

Owen was surprised by the near nudity of the figure. The way the gown was ripped, Ethel’s breasts were bare except for the nipples. Her hips and legs were exposed. Only a few dangling strips of white cloth saved her from being completely naked below her waist.

“Ethel was the sister of Lilly Thorn.” Owen heard Janice saying through his earphones. “She actually lived in Portland, Oregon.

“Earlier that summer, Lilly had sent her children away to stay with Ethel, so that she could be alone in the house. She’d apparently wanted privacy in order to indulge in certain adult behaviors that are beyond the scope of our tour.”

After a brief pause, Janice’s voice continued. “On about June 29, Ethel returned to the Thorn house with Lilly’s two children. She then stayed on, possibly planning to attend Lilly’s wedding to the local doctor. Here’s Maggie to tell you about it.

“‘Ethel Hughes, Lilly’s sister, was in this very room on the night of August the second, 1903. She’d come down for Lilly’s wedding, which would’ve been the next week if tragedy hadn’t suddenly struck down their plans. Tragedy being the beast. Nobody knows how it got into the house, or where it come from. But it snuck up behind the couch and took Ethel unawares while she was busy reading her
Saturday Evening Post.
It jumped her and ripped her up till she looked just like you see her—all torn and dead.”

Janice’s voice returned. “The
Post
that Ethel was reading at the time of the attack was found on the floor near her body, exactly where you now see a later issue of the same magazine. The original
Post
stayed here in the parlor for many years while Maggie ran the tours. For the sake of preserving it, however, it has been moved to the Beast House Museum. The gown worn by Ethel is also on display at the museum. What you see here is an exact duplicate of the original, identical down to every rip and blood stain.

“This is the original figure of Ethel Hughes, created in wax by Mssr Claude Dubois in 1936. The work was commissioned by Maggie Kutch. When placing the order for this and the figures of the two boys that you’ll see upstairs, Maggie included photographs of the murder scenes, plus morgue photos of the corpses. She asked that the positions of the bodies, and all the injuries, be recreated with complete accuracy of detail.

“Generations of visitors from all over the world have stood where you are now standing and gazed down at this very replica of Ethel’s ravaged body. This mannequin has also been seen in several popular films of
The Horror
series, which were based—sometimes very loosely—on my books about Beast House.

“Before we go on to the next station, I’d like to point out that the information we’re presenting in this tour is based almost entirely on the tours given by Maggie Kutch from 1932 to 1979. Now, Maggie didn’t always tell the truth—far from it. She knew much more than she ever told. When I bought this place, I made the decision to stay with Maggie’s version for a couple of reasons. First, even though it’s full of lies, it is the authentic Beast House tour. I wanted to give you, and all our visitors, a taste of how it might’ve been, many years ago, to be guided through the house by the woman who created the attraction in the first place. Second, the actual truth about Beast House isn’t suitable for family entertainment. If you want to know the actual, true details of the history of Beast House, you’ll find it in my books or on the Midnight Tour.

“And now, a few more words from Maggie. When she’s finished, it’ll be time to turn off your recorders and proceed to Station Three at the top of the stairway.

“‘After the beast got done murdering Ethel,‘” Maggie said, “‘it went on a rampage around the room. It knocked over this bust of Caesar, breaking off his nose. See, there’s his nose on the mantle.”‘Owen spotted the nose. Though it was out of reach beyond the cordon, it looked dirty, as if it had been handled too often by people with grimy fingers. He was surprised that nobody had stolen it.

“‘The beast just run amok for a while, dashing some figurines in the fireplace, turning over chairs. See this rosewood pedestal table? The beast threw it out the bay window over there. Must’ve made a mighty loud noise, all that glass getting smashed to smithereens.

“‘I reckon the racket likely woke up everybody in the house. Lilly’s room was right above us. Maybe she got out of bed, and the beast heard her. It scooted out of here and went running for the stain.’”

Owen heard a click as Monica hit the Stop button of her player. His own player hissed quietly for a moment before he shut it off.

He and Monica had eased their way closer and closer to the cordon as those ahead of them finished listening and wandered off. Now, they stood at the rope.

Owen had been able to see Ethel all along, but this was as near to her as he could hope to get. Without stepping over the cordon.

He stared at her.

And tried to imagine her real. Tried, in his mind, to transform her like Pygmalion or Pinnochio into a human with soft, smooth skin.

But he couldn’t make it happen.

Too many distractions. The other people in the room, especially Monica. And how Ethel’s gown barely covered her.

Owen wished a breeze would come along and blow some of those tatters aside.

Instead of making Ethel turn real in his mind, he pictured himself climbing over the cordon, kneeling over her, and peeking underneath the loose shreds of her gown.

Get off it, he told himself. She’s a
dummy
.

Even so...

Monica nudged him with her elbow and whispered, “Let’s go, Owie.”

He followed her to the door. They stepped aside to make room for a couple of people trying to come in, then headed for the stairway.

Sharon, some distance away, was greeting new visitors. She had her back to Owen and Monica. Her blond hair hung down in a thick braid.

“That was certainly tacky,” Monica said.

“What was?”

“What do you think? Ethel. Good God. I didn’t know this was going to be a peepshow. No wonder you were so eager to come here.”

They started to climb the stairs.

“Nothing you couldn’t see on any beach,” Owen pointed out.

“In France, maybe.”

“Anyway, she’s just a dummy.”

“It’s pretty funny, they give all that lip service about keeping the dirty stuff out of the tour, then they show us something like that.”

“I didn’t think it was that bad.”

“You wouldn’t.”

At the top of the stairs, a sign on the wall read Station Three. “Here we go again,” Monica muttered, starting her player.

Owen thumbed down the Play button on his machine, and heard Janice’s voice.

“After finishing its brutal attack on Ethel, the beast ran out of the parlor and scurried up the stairs, leaving a trail of blood to mark his way. Ethel’s blood. Look down, and you’ll see stains on the floor. They’ve been copied from crime scene photos, and match the stains found on the hardwood floor the night of murder. Follow them to Lilly’s bedroom and listen to what Maggie had to say.”

Monica, head down, followed the red stains. Owen walked behind her. His tape hissed, wordless for the few seconds that it took to reach the doorway of a bedroom.

“‘We’re just above the parlor here,’” Maggie explained. “This is Lilly Thorn’s bedroom. That’s her on the bed.’”

He entered the room behind Monica.

Only a few tourists were here. They were scattered along the length of the cordon, so Owen had a fine view of the bed.

Sitting upright on it was the figure of a young woman dressed in a pink nightgown. Eyes wide, mouth agape, hand to her mouth, she looked to Owen like a star of the silent screen demonstrating terror.

“‘All that commotion from downstairs woke Lilly up,‘” Maggie continued. “‘She must’ve known something mighty awful was going on. Must’ve known she and her boys were in danger. But instead of running to save the kids, she climbed out of bed and shut her door. See that dressing table there? She dragged it over in front of the door so the intruder couldn’t barge in. Then she climbed out her window. It would’ve been a long fall to the ground, but there’s a bay window just below this one, and she dropped down on top of it. From there, it was an easy jump. She landed on her lawn and run away into the night.’

“Lilly made good her escape,” Janice said, her smooth voice replacing Maggie’s gruffness. “She escaped with her life, but not with her sanity. The wax figure that you see on the bed, done by Dubois, was based on a photograph that had been taken of Lilly at the time of her marriage to Lyle Thom, the outlaw, several years earlier. This nightgown is an exact replica of the one she...”

“And the original can be found at the Beast House Museum,” Monica said in a sing-song, mocking voice that interferred with whatever Janice was saying on Owen’s tape.

She pushed her Stop button.

Owen frowned at her.

He looked around. Though some people were entering the room, nobody stood nearby. Monica’s mimickry had probably disturbed nobody but Owen.

“Cut it out,” he whispered.

She flashed her teeth at him.

Owen stopped his machine. He studied it, found the Rewind button, and pressed it.

“You’re
not
going back?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“That was the end.”

“I
wasn’t
to the end yet when you interrupted. You made me miss stuff.”

She rolled her eyes and muttered, “You’re kidding.”

Owen thumbed Play. Maggie said, “‘from downstairs woke Lilly up. She must’ve known something mighty awful was going on.’”

He’d rewound way too far.

As Maggie went on, he thought about hitting the fast-forward.

Don’t, he told himself. Just listen to it all again. So what if it takes a while? Monica can just wait. She should’ve kept her mouth shut.

He met her eyes.

She frowned.

“I rewound too far,” he explained.

“Good going.”

“This may take a minute.”

“Wonderful.”

“Shhhh. I’m trying to listen.”

“Cute move.”

“You don’t have to wait for me.”

“You can really be a pain sometimes, do you know that?”

“You’re going to make me miss stuff again. Then I’ll have to rewind.”

She clamped her lips shut and glared at him.

Owen wished she
would
leave. He wanted to concentrate on the tour without any distractions—especially without the
negative
distractions provided by Monica. She was ruining it for him.

His tape reached the part that he’d missed.

As Monica had already told him, the original nightgown worn by Lilly on the night of the attack was on display at the Beast House museum.

“You may now go down the hallway, and resume listening when you come to Station Four.”

He stopped the tape.

“All done?” Monica asked.

“Yep.”

“You’re sure you didn’t miss a single precious word?”

“I think that’ll do it.”

This time, he led the way. Though he walked slowly toward the door, he didn’t look back to make sure that Monica was staying with him. It made him feel rude, but he didn’t care.

If it offended her, good. For years, he’d been looking forward to Beast House. Now he was finally here, but Monica wouldn’t let him enjoy it.

Big mistake.

And she thinks I’m actually going to marry her?

When hell freezes over

He waited just inside the doorway while a family with three kids made their way into Lilly’s bedroom. Everyone in the family wore earphones. Even their girl, who appeared to be about eight years old.