The Cellar (7 page)

“We heard the beast come up the stairs. It made laughing, hissing sounds. It sniffed the door. And then, somehow, with such quickness we couldn’t
move, the door burst open and the beast sprang among us. In the first moments, it killed Cynthia and Diana. Then it leaped onto me. It held me down with its claws, and I waited for it to tear out my life. But it didn’t. It just stayed on top of me, breathing its foul breath against my face. Then it climbed off. It scampered down the attic and vanished. I have never seen the beast since that night. But others have.”

“Why didn’t it kill you?” asked the girl whose round face bloomed with acne.

“I’ve often wondered that. Though I’ll never know, this side of the grave, I sometimes think the beast let me stay alive ‘to report its cause aright to the unsatisfied,’ as the dying Hamlet asked Horatio to do. Maybe it didn’t want another Gus Goucher strung up for its crimes.”

“It seems to me,” said the white-haired man, “that you give this beast a great deal of credit.”

“Let’s see the attic,” said the chubby, critical boy.

“I don’t show the attic. I keep it locked—always.”

“The nursery, then.”

“I never show that, either.”

“You don’t have more dummies?”

“There’re no wax figures of my kin,” she said.

With arched eyebrows, the boy scanned the group as if looking for others who shared his disdain for the woman’s selective presentation of history.
“Well, what about those other two guys? They weren’t your kin.”

“The
two guys
this young man refers to, they’re Tom Bagley and Larry Maywood.” She shut the door to the attic staircase and led the group back down the corridor to her bedroom. “Tom and Larry were twelve years old. I knew both of them well. They came along on several tours, and probably knew more about Beast House than just about anyone.

“Lord knows why they didn’t have more sense than to come in here at night. They weren’t ignorant like those Ziegler characters: They knew good and well what to expect. But they come breaking in, anyhow. This was back in ’51.

“They were in the house a long spell, nosing around. They tried to pick the locks of the nursery and attic, but couldn’t. They were snooping through this room when the beast came.

“It took down little Tom Bagley, and Larry Maywood ran for the window.”

Maggie pulled aside the papier-mâché screen that blocked the window and several feet of floor space in front of it. Some of the group jumped back. The girl with acne whirled away, gagging. A woman muttered, “Really!,” her voice rich with disgust.

The wax figure of Larry Maywood, trying to raise the window, was looking back at the same mangled body as the other spectators in the room. Its clothes were shredded, leaving it bare except for the buttocks. The skin of its back was deeply
scored. Its head lay half a foot from the pulpy neck, face up, eyes open, mouth twisted wide.

“Leaving his friend at the mercy of the beast, Larry Maywood jumped from…”

“I’m Larry Maywood!” cried the white-haired man. “And you are lying! Tommy was dead! He was dead before I jumped. I saw the beast twist off his head! I’m no coward! I didn’t leave him there to die!”

Sandy squeezed Donna’s hand tightly.

One of the children began to cry.

“This is slander! Out-and-out slander!” Spinning away, the man marched out of the room. His friend from the cafe followed.

“I’ve seen about enough,” Donna whispered.

“Me too.”

“That concludes our tour for this morning, ladies and gentlemen.” Maggie left the room, followed by the group. “We do have a gift shop on the first floor, where you can purchase an illustrated booklet on the history of Beast House. You can also purchase 35 mm color slides of the house, including the murder scenes. We have Beast House T-shirts, bumper stickers, and all sorts of fine souvenirs. The Ziegler display will be ready next spring. You won’t want to miss it.”

“Imagine the gall of that hag, suggesting I ran out on Tommy to save my own skin! That miserable bag of guts, that abomination! I’ll take legal action!”

“I wish you hadn’t leaked your identity.”

“Well, I’m sorry.” He shook his head, frowning in misery. “But
really
, Judge, you heard what she said about me.”

“I heard.”

“The contemptible vial of swamp gas!”

“Excuse me!” a woman’s voice called from behind.

“Oh dear,” Larry muttered.

They looked around at the woman hurrying up the sidewalk toward them, a blond girl in tow. Jud recognized them both.

“We’ll make a run for the car,” Larry whispered.

“I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“Judge, please! She’s undoubtedly a reporter or some other species of uncouth snoop.”

“She looks couth to me.”

“Oh for heaven’s sake!” He stamped his foot. “Please!”

“You go to the car, and I’ll check her out.” Jud held out the keys. Larry snatched them away and hurried off several paces ahead of the woman. “He has a healthy fear of the press,” Jud told her.

“I’m not the press,” she said.

“I didn’t think so.”

She smiled.

“But if you’re not the press, why did you chase us?”

“Afraid you’d get away.”

“Oh?”

“Yes.” Head tilted to one side, she shrugged. “I’m Donna Hayes.” She offered a hand. Jud held it lightly. “This is my daughter, Sandy.”

“I’m Jud Rucker,” he said, still holding her hand. “What can I do for you?”

“We saw you at breakfast.”

“
I
didn’t,” Sandy said.

“Well, I did.”

Jud frowned, enjoying himself and still holding her hand. “Oh yes,” he finally said. “You were at the table behind me, weren’t you?”

Donna nodded. “We were on the tour, too.”

“Right. Did you enjoy it?”

“I thought it was dreadful.”

“
I
liked it,” the girl said. “It was so gross.”

“It was gross, all right.” He turned his eyes to Donna and stayed quiet, waiting.

“Anyway,” she said. She took a deep breath. In spite of her smile, she looked worried.

“How’d you like that crazy woman before the tour?” Sandy asked him.

The worry suddenly vanished from Donna’s face. In a voice thick with sincerity, she said, “That’s why I wanted to see you, why I…chased you the way I did.” She smiled shyly. “I wanted to tell you how refreshing it was, the way you stuck up for that woman. The way you helped her. It was such a thoughtful thing to do.”

“Thank you.”

“You should’ve given that turkey a knuckle sandwich,” Sandy told him.

“I gave the matter lots of thought.”

“You should’ve punched out his lights.”

“He backed off.”

“Sandy has a taste for violence,” Donna said.

“Well,” said Jud. He let the single word stand like a period, ending his part of the conversation.

“Well,” Donna echoed. Though she kept her smile, Jud could see her start to deflate. “I just wanted to let you know…how much I admired the way you helped the woman.”

“Thank you. Nice to meet both of you.”

“Nice to meet you,” Sandy said.

Donna started to pull her hand away, but Jud tightened his grip. “Do you have time for a Bloody Mary?” he asked.

“Well…”

“Sandy,” he said, “how about a Coke or 7-up?”

“Sure!”

“How about it?” he asked Donna.

“Sure. Why not?”

“I think the Welcome Inn should have what we’re looking for. Are you on foot?”

“We’ve been on them all morning,” said Donna.

“In that case, I’ll personally chauffeur you to the door.” He walked beside them to his Chrysler, and found it locked. Larry grinned out at him, brimming with satisfaction. Jud made a cranking motion. With a humming sound, the passenger window opened.

“Yes?” Larry asked innocently.

“They’re friends.”

“Maybe
your
friends.”

Jud turned to Donna. “Charm him.”

She bent beside the car. At eye level with him, she said, “I’m Donna Hayes.” She reached a hand into the window. Larry met it with his hand and shook it briefly, making a smile that seemed to strain his face.

“Admit it,” he said. “You’re a reporter.”

“I’m a passenger-service agent with TWA.”

“You’re not.”

“I am.”

“She is,” said Sandy.

“Who asked you?” he snapped.

Sandy began to giggle.

“Who’s she?”

“That’s Sandy, my daughter.”

“Daughter, eh? Then you’re married?”

“Not anymore.”

“Ah-ha! A feminist!”

Sandy turned away, laughing out of control.

“Don’t you like feminists?” Donna asked him.

“Only with Béarnaise sauce,” he said.

When Donna laughed, the corners of Larry’s mouth began to tremble with concealed mirth. “I suppose…” He swallowed. “I suppose I’ll be relegated to the backseat with Little Miss Giggles.” He unlocked the door and climbed out.

Donna stepped into the car. She scooted to the middle of the front seat. “Miss Giggles can manage the backseat on her own.”

“A
lady!
I’ve met a
lady!
” Larry got in beside her. She unlocked the driver’s door for Jud, while Larry reached behind him to get the lock of the back door.

“Where to?” Larry asked, slapping his thighs.

“The Welcome Inn,” said Jud. “For drinks and lunch.”

“Wonderful. A party. I love parties.” He looked over his shoulder. “Don’t you love parties, Miss Giggles?”

“I find them enchanting,” replied Sandy, and burst into a new fit of hysteria.

As they were passing the Chevron station, Sandy called out, “There’s our car!”

“Is it sick?” Larry asked.

Donna said, “We had a little accident last night.”

“Nothing serious, I hope.”

“Just bruises and scrapes.”

“Would you like me to stop?” Jud asked.

“Would you mind?”

He pulled into the station. Larry climbed out to let Donna through. Then he got back in and shut the door.

“I suppose it’s never difficult for a woman to demolish a car,” Larry said, looking around at the girl. “How did your mother accomplish it?”

Jud didn’t listen to the girl’s reply. All his attention was focused on Donna: on the way the sun shimmered in the flow of her brown hair, on the inward curve of her back and how the mounds of her buttocks shifted under her corduroy pants as she walked. In front of the office, she met a man wearing coveralls and a smirk. They talked. Donna tossed her rump to the left and slid a hand down her rear pocket. She nodded. With a graceful pivot, she followed the man to her car, where he opened the hood and shook his head.

Jud watched her hair sweep down the side of her face as she ducked to look under the hood. She straightened up, talking.

“Uh-oh,” he heard Sandy say.

The man slammed the hood shut.

Donna talked to him, and nodded while he spoke. She pushed both hands into her hip pockets, and shifted again to her left leg. Then she swung around. She walked with long strides toward
Jud’s car, shrugged, made a face to show exasperation, and smiled.

Larry climbed out to let her in.

“Well,” she told Jud, “it’s still among the living. He has to send to Santa Rosa, though, for a new radiator.”

“That’ll take a couple of days, won’t it?”

“He said we might be able to leave tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Sandy sounded worried.

“There’s no way around it, honey.”

“Do you need to get somewhere in a hurry?” Jud asked, and pulled onto the road.

“No, not especially. Two days in this town is just about two days longer than we’d planned on, that’s all.”

“I spent twelve years in this marvelous berg,” said Larry. “You’d be amazed at the variety of activities available to you.”

“What sort of things?” asked Sandy.

“The most popular sport, by far, is sitting at the corner of Front and Division to watch the traffic light change.”

“Oh boy.”

“Do you have a place to stay?” Jud asked.

Donna nodded. “We’ve got a room at the Welcome Inn.”

“Why, isn’t that a joyful coincidence!” Larry proclaimed. “So do we! Do all of us play bridge?”

“Never touch the stuff,” Jud said.

“Don’t
brag!
”

“Besides, we’ve already got plans for tonight.”

“Oh.”

“We have some business to take care of,” he told Donna.

“Are you just in town for today?” she asked.

“We may be around for a few days. It’s hard to say, at this point. Depends on how things go.”

“What sort of business are you in?”

“We’re with…” He suddenly knew that he didn’t want to lie. Not to this woman. The need to retain a cover wasn’t as great as usual, and not worth the loss. “I’d rather not go into it,” he said.

“Oh. Fine. I’m sorry if I pried.”

“No, don’t…”

“I’d be happy to tell you our business.”

“Larry!”

“We’re going to…”

“Don’t!”

“Kill the beast.”

“What?” Donna asked.

“Wow!” cried Sandy.

“The beast. The monster of Beast House. Judgment Rucker and I are going to lay it low!”

“Are you?” Donna asked, turning to Jud.

“Do you believe there is a beast?” he asked.

“Something killed all those people, I guess.”

“Or some
one
,” Jud said.

“The killer of Tom Bagley was
not
human,” Larry insisted.

“What was it?” asked Sandy.

“We’ll show you its cadaver,” Larry said, “and you may decide for yourself.”

“What’s a cadaver?”

“It’s a corpse, honey.”

“Oh, gross.”

“What we plan to do,” Jud said, “is find out what—or who—killed the people in that house. Then we’ll deal with it.” He smiled at her. “Bet you didn’t realize you were riding with a couple of lunatics. Are you still up to a Bloody Mary?”

“Now I may need two.”

“Excuse me,” Donna said. She scooted back her chair. “If the drinks come while I’m gone, don’t wait on me.”

“I’ll come, too,” said the girl.

Jud watched them walk across the crowded dining room. Then he leaned close to Larry. In a low voice, he said, “You screwed up real good, back there. If one more person finds out what we’re doing in this town, it’s all over. I keep my advance, drive back to San Francisco, and that’s the end of it.”

“
Really
, Judge. What possible harm…?”

“One more person.”

“Oh, all right. If you must be that way.”

“I must.”

Nobody spoke of Beast House during cocktails or lunch. As they were finishing, Larry told of a footpath that led down a gorge to a beach.

After lunch, they all went to the motel office and registered for another night. Then the two groups
split up, giving Donna and Sandy a chance to put on their swimsuits. Jud relaxed on his bed, ankles crossed, hands folded behind his head. He fell asleep.

“There they are!” Larry announced, waking him. The nervous man left the window and inspected himself in a mirror over the dressing table. “How do I look?”

Jud glanced at the red-flowered shirt and white shorts. “Where’s your Panama hat?”

“I could hardly pack everything on such short notice.”

They left their cabin. Larry rushed ahead to meet the two women, but Jud hung back to have a long look at Donna. She wore a blue shirt with sleeves rolled up her forearms. Below the hanging shirttails, her legs were slim and dark. No trace of a swimsuit was visible.

“I do hope you’re not
au naturel
under that blouse,” Larry said.

“You’ll have to wait and see.”

“Oh please, give us a peek. Just a teensy one.”

“Nope.”

“Oh please.”

Sandy lunged forward laughing, and swung her denim handbag at Larry. He spun away, ducking. The bag whunked his back. “Cruel midget!” he cried out.

The girl started to swing again.

“That’s enough, honey.”

“But he’s weird,” Sandy gasped, laughing.

“Is he always this way?” Donna asked Jud.

“I only met him last night.”

“Is that true?”

“Judgment never lies,” Larry said.

They got into Jud’s Chrysler, and Larry gave directions that took them down Front Street past the Chevron station, past Sarah’s Diner, and down two more blocks of shops. Beast House loomed ahead, on the left. The talking and laughter abruptly stopped, but nobody mentioned the house.

Larry broke the silence. “Turn right on this dirt road.”

Jud made the turn.

“Is that where Axel’s mother lives?” Sandy asked, pointing to the brick house.

“That’s the place,” said Donna.

Jud looked at the brick house to his left and saw that it had no windows. “Strange,” he muttered.

“Indeed,” said Larry. He asked Donna, “How do you know Axel?”

“He gave us a ride into town last night.”

“There’s a weird duck.”

“He’s retarded,” Sandy explained.

“Who wouldn’t be, with a mother like Maggie Kutch?”

“What?” asked Sandy.

“Axel’s mother is Maggie Kutch, the owner of Beast House, the tour guide.”

“Her?”

“Yes indeed.”

“Did she remarry after the killings?” Donna asked.
“Keep to the right, Judge. No, she did have visitors, though. Town speculation had it that Wick Hapson fathered Axel. He’s been working with Maggie from the start, and they live together.”

“The man in the ticket booth?” Donna asked.

“Right-o.”

“Charming family,” Jud said. “It looked like the house didn’t have any windows.”

“It doesn’t.”

“How come?” Sandy asked.

“So the beast can’t get in, of course.”

“Oh.” The girl sounded as if she regretted asking.

The dirt road widened and ended.

“Ah we’re here! Just park anywhere, Judge.”

He turned the car around so it headed out, and parked off to the side of the road.

“You’ll absolutely adore this beach,” Larry said, getting out.

Before opening his door, Jud watched Donna. As he’d assumed, she was wearing a swimsuit under the shirt: the bottom part of one, at least. Its blue fabric shined at him when she bent to climb out.