Haunted (30 page)

"It's terrific."

"He told me about the Jerry Romero Show too," Georgie continued. "He's just such a turd, don't you think?" She laughed. "Jerry, not Gaylord."

"Is he?" David asked. "I don't know too much about him."

"Oh, he's a charming turd, but he can be so obnoxious. You’ll need to hire a guard to keep him from snooping through your whole house."

David chuckled. "There's a thought. We have a room on the third floor that seems to turn people into raving sex maniacs. Maybe I should take him up there."

"Really? Sex maniacs?"

"I swear it on a stack of contracts."

"That's marvelous, David. Are you writing about it?"

"I haven't worked it in yet. Who knows?"

"Why don't you tell Jerry he can spend the night in there if he promises to behave himself?" she suggested with a throaty laugh.

"He wants me to find the dungeon, Georgie. He's calling it the "Lost Chamber of Sexual Tortures.’”

"Sounds like a gas, darling. I wish I could get away. I'd love to come for a few days sometime around the filming.”

"We'd love to have you!" he said, very honestly.

"You're a love, David, but that's not why I'm calling."

"Oh?"

"I had lunch with your editor today. She looks wonderful. She's such a dear, isn't she?"

"Yes, she is."

"And she adores you," Georgie added, mimicking a Joan Rivers gush perfectly. "She had drinks with Melanie last week."

David's good mood twisted into a leaden knot in his stomach.

"Oh?"

"No, no, David, don't get upset."

"I'm not upset."

"Don't lie to your agent. You sound like you just sat down on a broomstick."

"Georgie, what's this about?"

"I thought you'd like to know that Harry Rosenberg at Dorner Books made Joanna a huge offer to get her and you to leave Randall House."

"Oh, God." He could feel the headache coming on already. He hated the business end of publishing. "What does Melanie have to do with this?" Suddenly, he couldn't understand why the hell he'd been missing her so much.

"It's not what you're thinking, David. It seems she told Joanna about the offer before it came down."

"Melanie did that?" He couldn't believe it: Melanie never did anything that wouldn't further her career, and though warning Joanna Scanlon might not hurt her, it couldn't possibly help in any way he could imagine. "Why?"

"Well, David, I don't know, but I'm guessing she had an attack of conscience."

"What do you mean?''

"Melanie told Joanna that it was her idea, that she suggested to Harry that he make the offer as a way for Dorner to acquire you, and that she'd felt like a shit about the whole thing ever since. She decided to confess."

"That doesn't sound like Melanie," David said slowly.

"No, it doesn't, does it?" Georgie cleared her throat. "Anyway, the offer was made--"

"What happened?"

"Joanna parlayed it into a nice raise and a corner office with two windows at Randall House."

"Good." David couldn't think of anything else to say; all he could think about was Melanie.

"I've got to go, darling. I'm late for a dinner engagement."

"Wait--"

"Yes, David?"

"What's Melanie up to these days?"

Georgie chuckled. "Well, she's frequently seen with Ray Blaisdell."

"She's seeing Meat? The cocksman of science fiction?"

"Be nice, David. She wouldn't have confessed to Joanna if she wasn't still pining away for you, Meat or no Meat." She cleared her throat suggestively. "How much do you want to bet he shrinks when you cook him? Now, darling, I've got to go."

"Thanks for telling me, Georgie."

"You're welcome, David. Goodbye."

He set the receiver back in the cradle, pleased and confused about Melanie's behavior, wanting to believe it was because of him, but wondering if she had an ulterior motive. She usually did. And the thought of Meat Blaisdell--the nickname said it all--absolutely infuriated him.

He had no right to worry about whom she slept with--after all, they'd broken up more than six months ago. But Meat Blaisdell... "God damn it, Melanie. You have better taste than that."

You crawled right into bed with Theo Pelinore, Masters, it goes both ways. And you don't have time to waste worrying about it. You have work to do. With that, he glanced at the two dolls in their plastic bags on the other side of the desk, and his worries about Melanie retreated to the back of his mind.

The headless one--the one that had "bled"--lay in a powdery rust-colored dust. The red fluid had dried and powdered within one hour of the incident. He should, he reminded himself, take a sample of the powder to a lab for testing: he thought that the doll had been filled with something that resembled blood and be was very curious to know the chemical content of the stuff. If the voodoo-versed Christabel bad used some sort of alleged "magic," he might discover a chemical compound as amazing as the one that true voodoo practitioners used to create the zombie effect.

Another thing that intrigued him was the fact that the doll was the effigy of the decapitated Captain Wilder, right down to the lack of a head. Before giving the real naval officer's uniform to Amber to take for cleaning, he had examined it again, but found no sign of blood, so either the captain hadn't been murdered in this particular clothing or it belonged to someone else.

Then there was the mysterious evil-faced doll in black seafarer's clothing. David assumed it represented one of the customers, one who owned a razor-tipped cat-o'-nine-tails. Any woman willing to bed down with this guy for any price must have had a death wish. It was endowed with an obscenely huge erection that sprouted from a crotch coated with bushy hair that extended in a thin line to the navel where it blossomed across the thing's torso. Its back, shoulders, and buttocks were nearly as hairy as its chest.

He turned his attention back to the open crate, thinking that perhaps he would find an answer within.

Thus far, he had only discovered impersonal, though fascinating items, which would serve as useful color in Mephisto Palace. On top, he'd found items from 1912, including a copy of Colliers Weekly, piano sheet music for the brand new hit, "Alexander's Ragtime Band," and, best of all, a copy of the Red Cay Guardian, dated April 17, detailing the sinking of the Titanic two days previously.

The next layer contained items dating back to 1913 and 1914. There was a copy of the Guardian containing the debut of the new comic, "Bringing Up Father." David read it, remembering the same comic from his childhood, but by then it was known as "Maggie and Jiggs." Next came a small pouch of Indian-head nickels, and another copy of the Guardian, this one reporting the opening of the brand new Ford Motors plant. There were advertisements, carefully cut from the paper, for The Perils of Pauline, starring Pearl White, and Cecil B. DeMille's epic western (or so said the ad), The Squaw Man.

Now he gently lifted out the next clipping, a story about the movie, Birth of a Nation. The article bore the title, "Movie Causes Race Riots in Atlanta: Is D.W Griffith Member of KKK?" Lizzie, he decided, must have been fascinated by politics and music. These things, sterile as they were, helped the woman come alive in his mind. She had been a feminist of sorts.

He smiled, as he found a carefully folded poster for The Tramp, Charlie Chaplin's first major film. Beneath that, lay a copy of the Guardian dated May 8, 1915, its headlines detailing the sinking of the Lusitania the previous day. It was an extra edition.

If the items were roughly in chronological order, there would be little left, he realized, at least if Lizzie had stored these trunks away herself. Curious as to what he'd find next, he set the May 8 newspaper aside for later perusal and lifted out a handful of paperbacks, including a 1912 edition of Zane Grey's Riders of the Purple Sage and a 1914 Tarzan of the Apes by the relatively unknown Edgar Rice Burroughs. There were many more pulp books and magazines, several inches' worth, and David began to think they filled the rest of the crate, when he came to another newspaper, dated September 2, 1915.

I've struck gold! A little thrill ran through him as he stared at the date. Lizzie hadn't packed the trunk--she couldn't have. The massacre had occurred on the night of August 31, 1915. He wondered who had packed them and if the same person bad constructed the crates to fit so invisibly among the wall studs?

The words "EXTRA EDITION," were emblazoned across the top of the sheet. The headline, in huge type, took up nearly all the rest of the front page: "Bawdy House Becomes Body House In Bizarre Midnight Massacre." Below that, in slightly smaller typeface, were the words, "25 Bodies Found, Many Missing, Including The Notorious Madam And Her Daughter."

"Oh, boy!" David settled back in his chair and put his feet up, then began to read:

Sometime during the night of Friday, August 31, a terrible massacre took place in the quiet seacoast village of Red Cay, on the central coast of California.

At 11:00 A.M. on September 1, Miss Charlotte Manderley of Red Cay entered Baudey House, the residence of Misses Elizabeth and Christabel Baudey, where she was horrified to find the gruesomely murdered bodies of twelve women and fifteen men.

Miss Manderley, a resident of the house, had gone to visit her sister in San Luis Obispo on Friday night. "If I hadn't spent the night with Rebecca, I would have died too," Miss Manderley told this reporter.

Upon entering the mansion, which has long been known as a house of ill repute, Miss Manderley saw a sight that will visit her nightmares for the rest of her life. A red velvet meridienne lounge held the body of Miss Lucy Latour, a resident of the house and Miss Manderley's close friend. The body had been eviscerated, and the gut had been draped around the lounge and body in a garland-like manner reminiscent of the murders committed by Jack the Ripper of Whitechapel, England, two decades ago.

Upon seeing this dreadful sight, as well as dimly noticing other bodies and huge splashes of blood, Miss Manderley fought her desire to faint and ran outside, where she soon recovered herself enough to drive into town, and notify Police Chief Robert Lee of the murders.

Chief Lee promptly summoned all five of his officers as well as Doctor Louis Shayrock, and they set off for Baudey House. Officer Thomas Lockhart was stationed outdoors to keep curious parties, as well as the press, away from the murder scene. He was instructed by Chief Lee to answer no questions.

Another officer, Mr. Jonah Willard, who has only been on the Red Cay force for six months, was seen to exit the house and subsequently became violently ill. "Horrible, beyond belief," said the officer, who exchanged posts with Officer Cox. "It's the devil's work, no mistake." The officer refused to elaborate further.

After two hours, Chief Lee appeared and made the following statement: "A mass murder, taking twenty-seven lives, possibly more, occurred sometime last night. At this point we have no suspects in custody. The Red Cay Police Department will conduct a thorough investigation which will not end until the perpetrator of these heinous crimes is captured and justice is done."

When asked if Elizabeth Baudey and her daughter were among the victims, Chief Lee replied that they did not appear to be on the premises. He answered no further questions, but announced that a list of victims would soon be released.

Baudey House has been officially known as The Baudey Home for Young Women since Miss Elizabeth Baudey inherited the property, though local residents have always continued to call it Baudey House. Due to gossip about the alleged "home," some locals in Barnacle Bob's Tavern, as well as many transient salesmen and sailors, have taken to referring to the morally questionable establishment as "Bawdy House."

Now, the house has acquired a new and yet more terrible epithet: Body House.

David perused the article again, then glanced through the paper for any other pertinent information, but found only a brief article detailing Byron Baudey's building of the lighthouse and mansion, and several editorials blasting the town government for looking the other way in the face of prostitution.

The next paper, a regular edition, was dated September 5, 1915, and contained several articles and editorials. David read through them quickly, then slowed, when he came across new information:

Red Cay Chief of Police Robert Lee has issued an official list of murder victims found September 1 in Baudey House. Details of the murders were withheld, although locations of the bodies were revealed.

All the female victims listed were residents of Baudey House. Found on the first floor were the bodies of the following persons:

Parlor: Harrison Cox, 48, Mayor of Red Cay; Chelsea Latour, 23

Bathroom: Roberto Misella, 40, locksmith; Laurel Drake, 22.

Drawing Room: Unknown Male Transient, 30-35; Kitty Clausen, 31.

Billiards Room: Douglas Cleghorne, 45, Merchant Marine; Genieve Wooten, 24; Ginger Buckminister, 19.

Kitchen: Max Nicolatti, 35, Grocer, Red Cay; Jane Vander Putten, 29.