“Chips said he hasn’t,” Joe replied, removing a can
of beer from the fridge. “Dade arrived here with some
of the others, but never came in the house.”
“Typical,” Judith remarked, “though why he’d want
to walk around on such a foggy, windy night is beyond
me.”
“The wind’s blowing the fog away,” Joe said, then
yawned. “I’m going to watch
for bed. It’s been a long day. In fact, it’s been a long
weekend.” He kissed Judith, gave Renie a hug, and
headed back upstairs.
“I’m organized,” Renie announced. “I’ve skimmed
some of this stuff, especially Bruno’s filmmaker’s approach to the narrative. Naturally, he sounds like a genius.”
The cousins sat down at the kitchen table. More
screams could be heard from the living room.
“Wouldn’t you think they must have killed off most of
the cast by now?” Judith murmured.
“We wish,” Renie remarked, underlining points of
interest with a red pen. “Dade should be writing a
movie about what happened after this crew arrived at
the B&B. Who needs spooky London streets or the
human race’s time line?” She paused, shuffling some
papers. “Okay, here’s some information on C. Douglas
Carp.”
“Crappy Pappy Carp,” Judith said suddenly. “That’s
what Dirk Farrar called him.”
“You can call him Pappy, you can call him Crappy,
you can even call him Sappy,” Renie said, handing two
pages of underlined information to Judith, “but don’t
call him Slaphappy. Carp was a diligent scholar of
some repute. He wrote
twenty-two.”
“Goodness,” Judith responded. “That’s impressive.”
“It may account for why my father read the damned
thing,” Renie noted. “Dad was probably swayed by
Carp’s credentials.” She flipped through a few more
pages. “This is what I found on Carp himself. I haven’t
read it yet. Shall I read to you?”
“You can also carry me up to bed and tuck me in.”
Judith sighed. “I’m not sure I can get up those two
flights of stairs again.”
Renie offered her cousin a sympathetic smile. “You
should put an elevator in this place. And not for the
guests.” She cleared her throat and adjusted her muchabused glasses.
