inside, he wouldn’t be able to see Jud.
Beyond the ticket booth, the tour group was clustered near the Beast House porch, probably hearing about Gus Goucher. Jud waited for them to file inside.
“Stay here till I signal.”
“Is Axel home?”
“His pickup’s here.”
“Oh dear.”
“That’s all right. It might make things easier.”
“For heaven’s sake, how?”
“If he’s a trusting soul, the door won’t be locked.”
“Wonderful. Marvelous.”
“Wait here.” Jud again checked the ticket booth, then walked swiftly across the front lawn to the door.
The inner door stood wide open. Jud pressed his face to the screen door, trying to see inside. He couldn’t see much. Except for the light from the doorway, the interior was dark. Quietly, he pulled open the screen door, and entered.
He moved quickly away from the lighted area. For at least a full minute, he stood motionless, listening. Convinced he was alone, he patted the walls near the door and found a switch. He flicked it. A lamp came on, its bulb filling the entryway with dim, blue light.
Directly ahead, stairs led to the upper floor. To the right was a closed door, to the left a room. He stepped into the room. By the faint light from the foyer, he found a lamp. He turned it on. More blue bulbs.
Dark carpeting covered the floor. Pillows and cushions littered it. A lamp stood in a back corner. There was no other furniture.
Jud went to the screen door. Looking through it, he checked the area near the ticket booth for Wick Hapson. No sign of the man. He opened the door a crack and waved to Larry.
Before Larry reached the door, Jud pressed a forefinger to his own lips. Larry nodded and entered.
Jud pointed out the room with the cushions. Then he stepped to the closed door at the right of the entrance. He pushed it open and found a light switch. It turned on a chandelier over a diningroom table. The chandelier bulbs were blue.
Except for the lighting, Jud found nothing unusual about the dining room. A china cabinet stood in one corner. A large mirror occupied the far wall above a buffet. The table had six chairs, but formal dining tables often had that many. He saw two more matching chairs beside the highboy.
Beyond the head of the table was another door. Jud went to it and pushed it open. The kitchen. He entered it, careful to walk quietly on the linoleum floor. He looked in the refrigerator. Even its interior light was blue. Pointing at the bottom shelf, he grinned at Larry. The shelf held at least two dozen cans of beer.
Next to the refrigerator was a door.
As he began to pull it open, Jud saw light on the other side. Blue light. He opened it farther and looked down a steep flight of stairs to the cellar.
He shut it quietly. Stepping around Larry, he went to the dining room. He brought one of the straight-backed chairs into the kitchen and tipped it against the door, bracing its back under the knob.
Then he motioned for Larry to follow.
They went from the kitchen to the foyer and silently climbed the stairs. Just off the hallway at the top was a large bedroom. They entered it, and Jud turned on its blue overhead light. Larry flinched, and slapped the hilt of his machete. Then he laughed quietly, nervously. “How exotic,” he whispered.
Mirrors ran the length of the walls, and one was attached to the ceiling directly above the large bed. There were no blankets on the bed, only blue satin sheets.
As Larry knelt to look under the bed, Jud checked the closet. The hangers held nothing except robes and more than a dozen nightgowns. He pulled out one of the nightgowns and it filled with air, swaying as if it had no weight at all. Dainty pink bows at the shoulders and hips were all that connected the front and back of the gown. Through the sheer fabric, Jud could see Larry stepping over to the bureau. Jud put the nightgown away.
“Oh dear!” Larry muttered.
Jud rushed over to Larry. The open drawer held four pairs of handcuffs. Looking in another drawer, he and Larry found a pile of steel chain with padlocks. In another was an assortment of bras and panties, garter belts, and nylons. Two of the drawers contained only leather: leather slacks and jackets, brief leather bikinis, vests, and gloves. From a hook at the side of the dresser hung a riding crop.
They shut all the drawers and left.
The bathroom smelled of disinfectant. They quickly searched it, finding nothing unusual except the sunken bathtub. It was large, perhaps seven feet by four, with several metal rings fixed into the tile walls at head level.
“What are those for?” Larry asked.
Jud shrugged. “They look like handles.”
At the far end of the hall, they entered a small room with bookshelves, a desk, and a stuffed chair. By the blue overhead light, Jud made his way to a lamp behind the chair. He turned it on.
“Ah, light,” Larry whispered as white light filled the room. He began to inspect the book titles.
Jud checked the desktop, then the drawers. The drawer on the upper left was locked. Kneeling, he removed a leather case from his pocket. He took out a pick and tension bar, and worked on the lock. It gave him no trouble at all.
The drawer was empty except for a single leather-bound book. A strap with a lock held it shut like a diary. He quickly picked that lock and opened the book to its title page. “My Diary: Being a True Account of My Life and Most Private Affairs, Volume 12, in the year of our Lord 1903.” The name beneath the inscription was Elizabeth Mason Thorn.
“What do you have there?” Larry asked.
“The diary of Lilly Thorn.”
“Good heavens!”
He thumbed through the pages. Three quarters of the way through, he found the final entry. August 2, 1903. “Last night, I waited until Ethel and the boys were asleep. Then I carried a length of rope down to the cellar.” He shut the diary. “We’ll take it,” he whispered. “Now let’s have a look in the other room and get out of here.”
The door of the room across the hallway was shut. Jud twisted the knob. He inched it open.
Larry clutched his arm.
From inside the room came a strange, windy sound. Jud listened closely, ear to the crack. He heard hisses, sighs, a blowing sound like the wind makes coming down a canyon. He silently closed the door.
When they got downstairs, Larry whispered, “That was the beast. It was in there sleeping.”
“I think it was just Axel.”
“Axel, my foot!”
“But he wasn’t alone,” Jud said.
“Indeed not!”
“I heard at least three people in that room. Let’s get out of here.”
“Marvelous suggestion. I’m with you 100 percent.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The green, metal sign read, WELCOME TO MALCASA POINT, POP. 400. DRIVE WITH CARE. Roy slowed down to 35 miles per hour.
He saw a dozen people lingering near a ticket booth in front of an old Victorian house. He glanced at the sign. Its red lettering wobbled and dripped like wet blood. BEAST HOUSE. He grinned, and wondered what the hell it was.
Slowing, he studied the faces of the people near the ticket booth. None looked at all like Donna or Sandy, not
