Late at Night (19 page)

When she was through, Andrea sat on the bed waiting for Ernie to finish checking the bathroom. When he came out she asked, “Where next?”

“Glo and Jerry’s,” he whispered.

“They’re not at dinner,” she reminded him. “They might come back at any moment.”

“Then let’s hurry. Besides, it won’t take the others that long to eat that cake.”

“I wish I could have had some,” Andrea sighed, but he knew she didn’t really mind what she was doing.

They finished with the second room, and went on to the rooms on the floor below. It seemed a hopeless task. If someone had stolen or hidden the book, they wouldn’t have left it out in the open. And there were lots of storage closets and who knew how many other places to search. Out-of-the-way spots could be searched at leisure, after hours. But the bedrooms had to be checked while they were unoccupied.

They went through Anton’s room, and Betty’s room, but found nothing. They could tell that downstairs the others had left the table and were having drinks, discussing what to do about the ones who’d disappeared. Ernie shuddered. The housekeepers. Eric. Gloria. Then Jerry. Even Cynthia had been gone for quite awhile now. What was happening to everybody? Surely most of them would walk back in the front door before the night was up. And he had nearly convinced himself that those skeletons he’d found must have been a hundred years old at least.

Then why was he searching so frantically for the book?

They went into the room Andrea shared with Cynthia. Before he realized what he was saying, Ernie told Andrea to “look through Cynthia’s things.” He realized with something of a start that he still didn’t quite trust Ms. Peters. He wanted to go through her possessions personally to make sure she wasn’t hiding anything. It hit Andrea at the same time. “You don’t think
I’ve
got the book, do you?” she said as he began rummaging through one of the suitcases, hers, if he remembered correctly. He looked up, feeling the awkwardness of the moment intensely. “Of course not. But someone might have hidden it among your things. I’m only trying to be thorough.”

She looked at him angrily for a moment, then relented. “Oh, I guess I can’t blame you, can I? What do you know about me? Nothing. You probably think I’m some sort of Wicked Witch of the West. Can’t blame you for thinking I would have something to do with this—this mess.”

Ernie came over to her as she sat down dejectedly on her bed. “Andrea. I—I’m sorry. This has got me so upset. I don’t know if I’m coming or going.”

“It’s all right,” she said. She waved him away. “No, really. If I were you I wouldn’t trust anybody either. You seem to have had some kind of psychic or occult experience. I can’t wonder that you’d think twice about trusting me.”

“Andrea. I took you into my confidence, didn’t I? Who else could I turn to with this?”

“I know,” she said, smiling. “And I’m really not upset. I’m a little tired, weary. Why don’t you search the room and I’ll relax for a minute?” He took her hand in his own and squeezed it, impulsively placing his other hand on her forehead, her hair, stroking her tenderly. He pulled away after a moment, embarrassed. Andrea said nothing.

Ernie directed his attention to the dresser. “You know what frightens me more than the thought of not finding this book?” he asked, flipping through a batch of paperbacks that Cynthia had put in the top drawer.

“What?”

“Finding it.”

He put the books back in the drawer and went over to the window. He exhaled and folded his arms across his chest. “Am I crazy?” he asked rhetorically. He made up his mind to forget all about the book, forget it had ever existed,
if
the housekeepers and the others came back safely. Then there would be nothing to fear.

But what if they didn’t come back? What if they were already dead?

He looked over at Andrea. Her eyes were closed and she was leaning back in the pillow. Sleeping?

What would happen to him, to Andrea, that’s what he had to know. Forewarned is forearmed. Or was it impossible to change your fate? Fate, he snickered. No such thing. There’s only good luck and bad luck. And coincidence.

Even so. He wanted to get his hands on that book. To find out who would by dying next, and just how much time he had before it was
his
turn.

Chapter 35

“Jerry. Jerry. Where are you?”

Cynthia walked along the shoreline, wondering if she’d come upon Jerry only to find that Gloria was with him and ready for another confrontation. Her face still stung from the last slap the old bag had given her. Still, she wanted to have a chance to talk to him, to talk to both of them if need be, to undo the damage done by that insufferable fool Anton. She’d get even with that ugly bastard if it was the last thing she ever did.

She thought over what she would say if she ever found them. It was getting so dark out now. She felt like she’d been walking for hours, for miles, along the beach, but it couldn’t have been that long. She would tell “gossiping Glo” that she and Jerry had really not done anything. Anton had interrupted them before they’d actually had intercourse, and she knew that Gloria wouldn’t get upset by a little harmless necking and fondling, would she? She was
sure
that Anton had exaggerated the whole incident, made it sound a hundred times worse than it actually had been. She’d explain it thusly to Gloria when she saw her. Not because she cared about the old cow, but because she sensed that Jerry honestly cared for the woman, and was dependent on her in more ways than one.

She scolded herself.
Do you think
you’re
to blame for what happened
? she asked herself.
You’re believing your own publicity, darling.
The best “bad girl” on the soaps, the evil seductress wrecking homes, destroying marriages. For pete’s sake, Jerry was a grown man with a mind of his own. He could have shrugged her off at any time if he’d really wanted to. She was sure he fooled around with other women, anyway. So why should she blame herself?

In any case, she wanted to set things right, to ask Jerry how he was feeling, to make sure he wasn’t upset, or mad at her. And if Gloria was there, she’d try and make the old woman listen to reason. If not, at least she could help Jerry look for her. There but for the grace of God …
Cut the bullshit,
she told herself.
You are not the pitying kind, so don’t pretend you are.

It was then that she saw Jerry. He was sitting on one of the rocks at the end of the beach wearing a sullen expression. Cynthia could see the shipwreck a few yards from where he sat, but there was no sign of Glo Bordette. “Hey, handsome,” she yelled, steeling herself for the encounter. What if he despised her?

Jerry turned around, startled out of his reverie. “Oh, hello.” There was a cautious tone in his voice.

Cynthia hunkered down beside him on a patch of sand that curled through the rocks until there were too many rocks for it to curl through. “Did you find her? Did you find Glo?”

“Uh uh.” He looked around hopelessly, up at the cliffs, at the sea. “I don’t know where she is.” The silence which followed was terrible. The sound of the crashing waves brought forth visions of James Mason, or Joan Crawford, walking steadfastly into the sea out of heartbreak.

“Look,” Cynthia leveled, “I’m sorry about what happened. Maybe I should have left you alone.” She waited to see his reaction. Seeing none, she continued. “I can tell you really care about Gloria, and I’m sorry she had to get hurt.”

He finally sensed what she was driving at. “It wasn’t your fault,” he said, shaking his head. “I blame that—that bastard with the face only a mother could love.”

Cynthia got up. The position she was in was not comfortable for her knees. “Anton. Yes. First practical jokes and now this. Telling on us that way.” She dropped the sand she had scooped up in her hand and smiled evilly. “I think we should team up and get even with Mr. Suffron. Really get back at him. And I mean
low.”

Jerry smiled for the first time since Cynthia had found him. “Count me in.” The smile faded quickly. He was really upset about Gloria.

“Where did you look?” Cynthia asked. “You don’t think she’d have done anything rash, do you?”

Panic flared in Jerry’s eyes. Apparently he’d never even considered it. “No,” he said quickly. “She’s just pissed off, being dramatic. You know how she is. Went off somewhere to brood. She’ll be back. I don’t know where else to look for her, though. Hope she isn’t lost.”

“Think she went into that old ship?” Cynthia queried. “It looks interesting, don’t you think?” She tried to keep the lilt, that certain intonation, out of her voice, tried to keep him from thinking that she was coining on to him again. “I think I’m going to go take a look.” She tried to sound possessed of intellectual curiosity, not wanting him to think she’d attack him the minute they were out of sight. “Come on. Let’s take a look before it’s nighttime. C’mon. Glo will be back at the house by the time we get back. You wait and see.”

Jerry got up and went with her. It was clear to Cyn that he was not hoping for more romantic adventures with her, but thought there was a possibility Gloria was holing up in the wreck. Together the two of them carefully traversed the rocks—which grew in size the closer they got to the ship—that lay between them and the
Mary Eliza.
To Cynthia, it was just a curious object, a battered ruin that promised casual fun and a way to pass the time on this dreary old island. Jerry saw it only as a hiding place. Neither of them gave a thought to the many drowned souls who’d died the night the ship crashed upon the rocks in the worst thunderstorm of 1880. The ship had nearly cracked in half, and the waves had been so huge people clinging to the sinking vessel had been swept off dozens at a time.

The tide was coming in. The pools between the barnacle-encrusted boulders were getting higher. The water broke over the rocks and across their feet, threatening to snatch them off the boulders and throw them into the sea. Their sneakers were sopping wet by the time they reached the ship, and when they turned back to see how far away the beach was, all they could see was water and the tops of the rocks. They were being slowly surrounded by water on all sides. Fear dug into Cynthia’s stomach as she wondered if they’d get back without drowning or breaking their necks.

“Guess this wasn’t such a hot idea,” she said apologetically.

Jerry was undaunted. “Let me just take a quick peek inside. See if anything’s in here.” Cynthia knew he meant any
one
. But she was sure the obese matron he was in love with would never have dragged herself out
here,
even with the tide low and the sun hanging high in the sky. Yet— love did strange things to people.

There was a huge gaping hole in the hull of the craft, fully 20 feet high and 30 feet across. The schooner itself was almost 160 feet long from stem to stern. Jerry and Cynthia walked inside, their feet crunching against shattered debris. There was an odd smell in the place, like a musty mixture of seaweed and urine. They were standing in the cargo hold amid piles of empty boxes and crates. Anything of value had long since been taken away. There was a whistling sound—the air rushing through all the holes and crevices in the ship; it almost sounded like people keening. Unless she was deliberately hiding, ducking down behind some large piece of flotsam, it was clear that Gloria was not inside. “If this ship piled up on the rocks a century ago, how come so much of it is still here?” Cynthia asked incredulously.

Jerry shrugged. “Beats me. That’s Lammerty Island for you. Nothing dies here.” He tapped the side of the ship. “Not even wood.”

To their right was a series of step-like protuberances leading upwards to the deck above. Living quarters for the sailors probably.
“Listen,
” Jerry said. “Do you hear that? There’s someone up there.” It sounded as if someone was moaning, crying out, someone in terrible pain.

Cynthia was scared. Had the old battleaxe actually managed to get this far, managed to drag herself up those tortured old steps for who knows what purpose? What if it
wasn’t
Gloria up there making those noises?

Cynthia felt Jerry grab her hand. “Come on,” he said. “We’re going to take a look.”

As they began to ascend to the upper levels of the ship, neither of them noticed that the water outside had completed covered the rocks and was even now seeping into the gutted opening of the
Mary Eliza.

Chapter 36

Gloria knelt in the very top chamber of the abandoned lighthouse and listened to the footsteps coming slowly up the stairs. As soon as she had reached the lantern room, she had slammed the trapdoor shut and bolted it from inside, then pressed her body down against the door in an effort to keep out whoever it was who was following her up the stairs. Her reasoning was at war with her imagination. Part of her wanted to believe, did believe that it was only Jerry or somebody else come looking for her. After all, she’d been gone for some time now and it was getting dark. Part of her wanted to pull the door open with one frantic motion and run down to greet the person coming towards her.

But another part of her mind sensed, knew, accepted—if such a thing was possible—that the thing coming up the stairs meant her harm. She couldn’t say why or how she knew this, not for sure. Perhaps it was the silence of the person on the stairs, the slow, deliberate pacing of their footsteps. Jerry or one of the others would have been calling her name, would have been shouting out for her, rather than waiting for an answer that might never come.

Then again, Jerry knew how stubborn she could be, knew that she might not reply if he called. If it was one of the others, maybe they were just exploring, testing each step, walking up slowly and carefully, saving their breath.

Yes, that was it. She pulled her body off the door and put her hands on the lock. She was being childish, overreacting to some intangible feeling of dread.

She had almost opened the door when she realized how cold it had become. And how dark. She could hear her heart beating. And over the sound of her heart she heard the rasping noises being made by the thing on the stairs. Was it someone playing a joke? She didn’t think so. She had often heard, read about, people knowing they were in great danger, knowing they were in the presence of evil, but until this moment she hadn’t really comprehended it, hadn’t understood.