The Pulptress (6 page)

Glass slivers clung to the
corners of the oak door. Small pieces crunched under his soles. A
wooden wedge kept the heavy door from closing properly, leaving a
three inch gap. John knew the homeless people had rigged it that
way for easy access. Still, he hadn’t had any calls from the police
about the old place in three years.

He recalled that final call
in minute detail. The phone rang incessantly at 3:30 in the
morning. He stumbled through the house to answer it before the
caller hung up. “Hello,” he mumbled sleepily.

“
John Charles. This is
Officer Franklin in Corinth, Mississippi. I’ve got bad news about
your old house.”

Fatigue vanished in a
second. John became fully awake and alert. “Who’s dead
now?”

“
There are five victims, Mr.
Charles, three men and two women. We’re still trying to identify
them at this time.” Officer Franklin hesitated.

John Charles closed his
eyes. A quiver shook his body. “Go on, Officer
Franklin.”

“
They’d been there for
several days before they were found. Some of the neighbors
complained about the foul odor.” The sound of rustling paper came
through the receiver. “Scavengers had gnawed on the remains. Mr.
Charles, they opened your safe. Did you have anything of value
inside?”

“
Oh, God, no! Not the safe.”
The words jumped from his mouth.

“
Mr. Charles,” Franklin
interrupted. “Did you have anything important inside? All we found
were some shattered jars and a painting.”

“
That’s all I had in the
safe.” John bowed his head, ran his free hand through his hair. “Do
me a favor, Officer. Put the painting inside and lock it up. I’ll
be down in a few days and fix it so no one can open it
again.”

“
Sure, Mr. Charles, I can do
that.” An awkward silence hung in the air. “Check in with me when
you get to town.”

“
Yeah, I’ll do that,” John
mumbled. “Thanks, Officer Franklin.”

He drove to Corinth the
next day. John purchased several wooden crosses and hung then
throughout the room.

The creaking hinges snapped
him from his reverie. John cringed inside, as he crossed the
threshold. Empty wine and whiskey bottles littered the floor, boxes
and tin cans piled high in the corners. Old furniture broken and
scattered, a layer of gray ash lay in the fireplace.

“
Someone’s been here
recently.” John’s shaking hand closed on the banister. He brushed a
layer of dust and grit from his hand. His legs quivered with every
step on the dirty marble. His mind recalled one of the final things
his mother said to him that fateful night, ‘Walking these stairs
kills my hip.’

“
Yeah, Mom,” he mumbled. “I
know what you mean.”

John felt the blood rushing
through his veins. A kernel of fear centered in the pit of his
stomach and grew at every step. He stood on the landing. The door
to his grandfather’s old room hung from the upper hinge, the bottom
half loose and flopping.

He entered the old bedroom,
hand circling the rosewood grip. The echo of his chattering teeth
bounced from the walls. He drew in a deep shuttering breath. The
massive steel door to the old safe loomed on the far wall. Casting
a glance around the room, he noted the absence of the crosses. Eyes
focused on the dark stains along the floor and walls, he knew the
source of the marks.

The metal door felt cool to
his touch. An unexpected jolt ran the length of his arm. He sensed
the malevolence contained behind the steel. The combination
immediately came to mind, and he spun the dial. The tumblers
clicked loudly, as they slipped into place. He tugged the door
open. An enveloping cold emptied from the vault and filled the
room. His breathe plumed before his face.

The pistol filled his hand
without conscious thought. One finger hovered over the trigger. A
man shaped figure turned toward him, the wide mouth filled with
sharp pointed teeth. The .38 bucked in his hand like a live thing.
He sprayed the area with the special bullets, hollow points, filled
with holy water and capped with wax. John dropped the pistol and
slammed the door.

A muffled shriek penetrated
the thick metal. The anguished cry shook John to his very soul. The
knot of fear in his gut exploded into a raging inferno, eating him
up from the inside. Heart thumping wildly in his chest, John turned
and ran, feet pounding across the same floors he played on as a
child. His speed matched his best time in basic training, when he
was a much younger man.

Sweat streamed down his
forehead, circled his eyes and dripped from his chin. Running like
the hounds of hell were hot on his heels, he burst through the
front door. John leaped into the car, the engine started easily.
Practiced hands manipulated the column lever, shifting the
Impala
into first gear, as he popped the clutch. The tires
spun in the gravel, small missiles pinged along the wheel
wells.

“
John!” Jill shouted.
“What’s wrong with you? What happened in there? Your hair is all
white.”

The car fishtailed in the
loose rocks. Smoke boiled from the tires as they caught traction on
the pavement. When he glanced at his reflection in the rear view
mirror, an old man with a wrinkled face and snow-white hair looked
back at him. “I just saw the devil.”

***

7-July-2011

The annoying shriek of the
phone gradually invaded her sleeping mind. Emily eased her freckled
arm from underneath the bed covers, patted the night stand with her
hand searching for the landline. “Hello,” she grumbled.

“
Emily, this is Ross. How
are you doing this morning?” A chipper voice sounded from the
earpiece.

“
What do you want? I just
got off the plane two hours ago. Can’t a girl get her beauty
sleep?” She yawned, and raked a free hand through her
hair.

“
I know what you mean. The
redeye can be rough at times,” he agreed. “Still, I imagine you
made Lannigan’s day a lot gloomier.”

“
Yeah, I nailed a few of his
goons involved in the Brandon kidnapping. The police have them
now.” She yawned again. “I know you didn’t call me this early just
to see if I enjoyed myself in the big city. So what’s on your
mind?”

Ross hesitated a moment. “I
need a favor.”

Her exhaustion vanished in
a heartbeat. Emily sat up in her queen sized bed, the blanket
bunched around her slender neck. “All you have to do is ask. I owe
you several favors.”

“
A friend of mine, Gloria
Fletcher and her mother Betty moved to a house in Corinth,
Mississippi.” The line grew silent.

“
Do you want me to help her
unpack or what?” Emily snapped.

“
No.” His voice dropped to
the barest whisper. “I want you to save her life.”

“
I’ll put on a pot of
coffee.” She swung her legs from the bed, bare feet found the house
shoes beside her bed. “Get over here and tell me what’s going
on.”

“
Thanks, Emily. I’ll be
there in a half hour.” The connection severed abruptly.

“
This had better be good.”
She drew a robe over her pajamas and plodded to the kitchen.
Nursing her second cup of java, she glanced through the picture
window of her two story fortress home, when Roscoe’s van parked
before her building. Emily waited, as the side door opened, the
wheel chair lift lowered Roscoe to the ground.

Her gaze shifted to the
cameras, as he steered the chair to the sliding doors on the ground
floor. She reached over and pressed a button opening the elevator.
A soft ding came to her ears, as the doors slid open on the second
floor.

Ross’s fist circled the
joystick. He deftly avoided the chairs and tables while he
maneuvered the wheelchair to her kitchen table. “Thanks for letting
me come over, Emily. I know you’re tired and I really appreciate
it.”

A wide smile split Emily’s
face. She filled a cup with steaming brew and placed it before him.
“Okay, now spit it out, who’s life do you want me to
save.”

“
It’s a long story. You’ll
have to bear with me.” His blue eyes locked on her face.

Thirty minutes and three
cups of coffee later, Emily rolled her eyes toward the ceiling.
“You want me to do what?”

“
I’m going to Corinth. I
want you to go with me.” Ross repeated. “I know Gloria and her
mother will be in danger inside that house. I’ve researched the
place extensively. Since 1945 there have been thirteen mysterious
deaths in that place. I don’t want Gloria and Betty to
die.”

Emily saw the sorrow in his
eyes. “This is a little out of my line. I stop crimes. I fight for
the ones who can’t fight for themselves.”

Ross nodded. “And that’s
what you’ll be doing. She’s been there less than a week. There have
been two mysterious deaths around Corinth in that time. Don’t you
think that’s a little suspicious?

“
What about my better half?
Do I bring her along on this outing?” she asked.

“
Yeah, I think her talents
will be needed.” He swallowed. “I really want to thank you for
helping me.”

“
Make the arrangements,”
Emily yawned and stretched. “I’ll shower and pack. You can pick me
up in an hour.”

“
I’ll be here.” Hand closed
on the joystick, he backed away from the table and zigzagged a path
to the elevator. He turned briefly and waved goodbye before he
disappeared inside.

“
My gosh, what have I gotten
myself into?” She wondered aloud, as she retreated to the
bathroom.

***

Red streaks colored the
clouds in the western sky when they crossed the state line into
Mississippi hours later. Emily studied at the atlas in her lap.
“How long will it take to reach Corinth?”

“
Two, maybe three hours.”
Roscoe glanced at his driver’s side mirror. “I haven’t been to this
place in years. Gloria’s parents brought me one time. That was
years ago before the chair.”

“
Tell me everything you know
about the family.” Emily shrugged. “Any information might come in
handy.”

“
Gloria’s great-great-great
grandparents owned a lot of property on the delta in the late
1900’s. They were one of the wealthiest families in Mississippi
back in the day. In the 1920’s Sherman Charles sold his share of
the property and built a mansion in Corinth.” Ross flipped on the
turn signal, steering the van in a right turn off the
interstate.

“
His son Arthur lived in the
house. He and Lorene had one child John. He was a decorated soldier
in World War two. He came back from Germany, married his sweetheart
Jill. He took her to his parent’s house in 1945. That’s when the
deaths started. When they woke up the next morning, John found his
parents dead in their bedroom.”

“
You mentioned other deaths.
Do you have any information on those?” She stared at an abandoned
farm house, doors missing, windows shattered. The roof swayed in
the center and shingles were missing in several areas.

“
Homeless people looking for
a dry place to stay, drug users looking for a safe place to get
high and a few fortune hunters.” He glanced at a roadside sign.
“Are you getting hungry? I’d love a nice greasy burger.”

“
Sure why not.” She
stretched her shoulders. “Tell me about the fortune
hunters.”

“
There’s an old safe on the
second floor. A story started floating around in the late forties
or early fifties that a fortune was hidden in the old house.
Everyone assumed it was in the safe.” He paused. “According to
Gloria, several people broke into the old place to try to open the
safe.”

“
This case is beginning to
sound more interesting.” Emily unbuckled her seat belt and eased
her feet over the console into the rear of the van.

“
Where are you going?” Ross
demanded.

“
The Body Bag is back here,
I’m going to put on a new face.”

“
I see a Mom and Pop cafe
with a drive through,” he shouted. “I’m getting a double decker
cheese burger, do you want the same?”

“
Yeah, that’s great,” she
answered. The sound of moving bags came to his ears. “It would have
to be packed on the bottom.”

Forty-five minutes, and one
Mom and Pop’s burger later, Emily climbed into the front seat, her
red hair darkened to black with streaks of gray around the temples.
A hint of wrinkles surrounded her eyes and mouth, a set of thick
glasses rested on her nose.

“
Who are you now?” Ross eyed
the strange woman sitting beside him.

“
Gladys Jean Meyers.” She
stared at her reflection in the window. “I’m a Professor of
Supernatural Studies at the University of Moffett. You met me three
years ago at a mythology seminar at Greensville,
Tennessee.”

“
Okay, that’s an easy cover
story.” Ross frowned. “I hope I’m wrong about this, I hope it’s
just a series of coincidences and bad luck.”

“
If that’s all it turns out
to be, then I’ve just wasted a little time putting on this face.”
She smiled. “But I’ve got a funny feeling about this case. It might
prove to be very interesting.”