tour.”
“When’ll you be doing it—tomorrow?”
“First thing in the morning,” Blake said.
Nora grinned. “Maybe we’ll see you there.”
Tyler’s stomach tightened. “We’d better get going,” she said.
“Yeah, we’d better.”
“Our loss,” Blake said, and winked at Nora.
Tyler winced. “Bye,” she said.
“See you later,” said Nora.
Finally, they were heading for the corner booth. “Isn’t that incredible!” Nora said in a hushed voice.
“Brian Blake?”
“Him, too. No, I mean that they’re gonna be doing Beast House.”
“They aren’t.”
“That’s what he said, but that doesn’t make it true. They just don’t want word getting out, or some damn rip-off artist will beat them to the punch with a Beast House book.”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe? I’d bet on it. And we can be there when they take the tour. It’ll be like being part of literary history.
“You were there.”
“Aw, you’ll…”
“Sorry we kept you waiting,” Tyler interrupted.
“No problem,” Abe said, rising to his feet. He had changed into gray slacks and a blue blazer. He wore no tie. His yellow shirt was open at the throat. “Did you run into some friends?”
“Not friends,” Tyler said. She slipped into the booth and sat down beside him.
Nora sat across the table. She patted Jack’s forearm through the sleeve of his flashy plaid sport jacket. “Those two at the bar,” she explained, “are Gorman Hardy and Brian Blake.”
“Brian Blake?” Jack asked. He looked at Nora with the eagerness of an enthralled child. “Sure. The middleweight contender out of Pittsburg.”
“No,” Abe said. “That’s Byron Blake.”
“Well, who’s this guy?”
Abe signaled to the barmaid. As she approached, Nora said, “Do you know that book,
“Saw the show.” He looked at Abe. “They ran it at the post last month. That haunted house flick where blood came out of the faucets and the gal ended up opening her wrists.”
“I saw it,” Abe said. He didn’t sound impressed.
The barmaid arrived. After they gave their orders, she cleared off the table and left.
Leaning forward, Jack peered at Nora. “This Blake, he’s the pretty one? I don’t remember him in the movie. Who’d he play?”
“He wasn’t in the movie,” Nora told him. She spoke cheerfully, without any hint of reproach. “It was about him. It was his house in real life, and his wife’s the one who committed suicide.”
“Bullshit,” Jack said.
“What’s bullshit?”
“It never happened. Who are they trying to kid? Okay, maybe the guy’s wife pulled the plug on herself, but ghosts? Blood spurting out of the faucets? All those dirty words showing up on the walls? An ax flying at the guy? All that stuff really happened? No way.”
“You could ask him,” Nora suggested.
“Do
“I don’t know. I’ve heard him talk on the subject, and he sure sounded convincing.”
“Nobody sounds more convincing than a guy with a good con.”
“The other fellow,” Abe said. “He’s actually Gorman Hardy, the author?”
“He is,” Tyler said.
“I’ve read some of his books. Including his ghost story.”
“Did you believe it?”
“I didn’t disbelieve it.”
Jack’s face contorted. “For Chistsake, Abe.”
“More things in heaven and earth, Horatio…”
“Ghosts?”
“Remember Denny Stevens?”
“Not Denny Stevens again. You were hallucinating.”
“The whole platoon was hallucinating?”
“Mass hysteria.”
Abe arched an eyebrow at Jack, then glanced from Nora to Tyler. His hands were folded on the table. He looked down at them. “Stevens was on point. This was in the jungle near the Vu Gia River, back in ’67. He stepped on an anti-personnel mine. When we got to him, his right leg was gone. He was already dead from loss of blood. The femoral artery…” He shook his head. “A couple of hours later, we came to a village. According to our intelligence, the VC had cleared out. The village was supposed to be safe, right? We stayed on our toes, just in case, but we didn’t expect trouble. We were about fifty yards from the first huts when Denny Stevens came walking out from behind one. He came walking right toward us, just as if he had both legs.”
“Which he did,” Jack added.
“He was carrying his right leg. Had a hand under the boot, the thigh propped against his shoulder.”
“God Almighty,” Nora muttered.
“We were all…slightly stunned. We just stood there, gazing at Stevens. He used his free hand to wave us off, then he kind of melted into a puddle and vanished. We took cover as if every one of us knew for a fact that he’d come back to warn us. Just about then, all hell broke loose. We got chopped up pretty good, but it would’ve been a wipe-out except for Stevens.”
“You’ll have to forgive Abe,” Jack said. “He’s usually not insane.”
“Every survivor of that firefight will tell you the same story.”
“You oughta tell that guy Hardy about it,” Jack said. “Maybe he’ll put you in a book.”
The barmaid came with a tray of drinks. There were two of each. She distributed them, and Abe paid. “I’ll be right back with more hors d’oeuvres,” she said and took away the tray.
Abe twisted his fingers around the lip of a Dos Equiis to clean it and raised the bottle. “Which is why,” he said, “I don’t disbelieve Hardy’s book. But I don’t necessarily believe it.”
“Nora thinks he’s in town to write about Beast House.”
“He denies it, of course,” Nora said. “But I’m onto him. I’m gonna be there tomorrow when he goes on the tour. Even if I have to go alone.”
“Want company?” Jack asked.
“You betcha.”
Abe looked at Tyler. “Did you have any luck finding your old friend?”
“No. Well, we went to his place, but he doesn’t live there anymore.”
“We found out he works at Beast House,” Nora said. “Hey, maybe if we play our cards right he can get us in free.”
“I don’t know,” Tyler said.
“Butterflies,” Nora explained.
CHAPTER NINE
Alone in his room, Brian Blake picked up the telephone and dialed the office. A man answered, but he was prepared for that. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I don’t seem to have an ice bucket.”
