Hell Within -- Chapter Ten: The House of Lancaster -- Scenes 8-11
Mandy arrives at her father's house in the guise of being the new maid and finds herself in the middle of a crisis. Amy Eaton's lover is missing, and the police are questioning Amy.
-8-
Ben couldn't recall how he'd gotten here or how he came by the card in his hand. The gold face of the dial clock on the giant mahogany desk in the Master's study read 8:13, and judging by the burning light pouring in from the window behind him, it was morning.
And he felt rough. The heavy fingers of sleep tugged at him. It was all he could do to hold his eyes open. It was almost as though he were on some kind of drug.
The card was a simple off-white business card with an embossed Sheriff's Department logo in the upper left hand corner, and the brown lettering in its center read
Thomas R. Davis
Investigations
He turned around into the morning sun, and the light felt as though it was burning his skin. He pulled the red drapes shut closing out all light, and then he sat down behind the desk, lifted the phone off its cradle and dialed the number.
The phone buzzed four times before a morning-roughened voice said, "Investigations, Detective Davis speaking."
"Hi, I'm Ben Eaton. You wanted to talk with me?"
"Yeah, Mr. Eaton. How're you doin this mornin?"
"I'm good."
"That's great! Do you know a Richard Little?"
Ben cocked a half-grin. "Yeah, Dick Little. We give him all kinds of shit about his name."
Davis paused for a moment -- long enough to let Ben know that he thought his comment was inappropriate.
"Where do you know him from?"
"We graduated the same semester from college with the same degree. He was my roommate during our freshman year."
"Heard from him lately?"
Ben shook his head. "Not since I quit the Gainesville Publix and moved to Lakewood Village. Why?"
"Well, the old boy's come up missin, and we're lookin into it for the Gainesville Police."
Ben couldn't believe his ears. He sat back in his chair, and stared at the wall for a long moment.
"Mr. Eaton?" Davis said.
"How long?" he said.
"No one's heard from him in over two weeks. Do you know where he might've gone?"
"I dunno. Maybe he went off somewhere with some woman. He's always been a womanizer."
"He ever done that before?"
"Not that I can remember, but Dick's been a little unpredictable since his divorce."
"Has he been to your house?"
"No. He doesn't know where I live. All I told him was that I'd inherited a house in Lakewood Village and a lot of money."
"Any chance your wife might've invited him over?"
"Amy? Nah. She's never really liked him; she just tolerated him."
"Okay," he said. "I appreciate you callin me, sir, and you have my card. If you hear anything from him, give me a buzz."
Ben frowned. "Absolutely."
The phone clicked on the other end. Ben hung the receiver back on the cradle and rubbed his forehead.
What in the hell was that all about?
-9-
"Earth to Amy."
She jumped and turned her head in the direction of the voice.
Mandy Green had somehow crept into the kitchen behind her and was sitting behind her on a barstool behind the pine-topped center island propping her head up.
"I didn't see you there," Amy said.
Mandy sat up straight and nodded. "If you want to drink that much coffee, you'll need a bigger mug."
Amy looked down at the bare pine countertop and noticed the puddle of coffee around the blue mug.
"Shit," she said, and she snatched a towel off the rack hanging over the triple-basin, stainless steel sink.
"Are you Okay?" Mandy said.
Amy didn't respond. She merely went about the business of wiping up her mess and pouring the excess coffee out of the mug and into the sink.
"You look tired," she persisted.
Amy turned around and eyed her. "Today, I think we're going to go through some of the rooms on this floor and throw out a bunch of furniture and stuff that no one will ever use again."
"Okay."
"You did good yesterday."
Mandy smiled.
A chiming rang through the house. It was the same tune that Big Ben in London chimes every hour but the tone of it was much colder like the sound of tubular bells.
"What's that?" Mandy said.
Amy rubbed her temples. "The doorbell. What now?"
"You want me to get it?"
She huffed. "Ask 'em for a name, and if they say anything other than Dick Little, tell them I'm dead."
Mandy nodded and left the room.
Amy looked down at the black liquid in her coffee mug half wishing she had a shot of schnapps to go in it.
Mandy returned in a few minutes with all the color drained out of her face.
"What?" Amy sighed.
"It's the police. They said it's urgent."
Amy dumped her coffee out in the sink. "Terrific!"
She sat her coffee cup down and made her way to the front door.
Detective Davis and his pet stood outside on the stoop just like the day before, Davis wore all black and sunglasses despite the gray sky.
"Yes?" she said.
"Ms. Eaton, there's been some developments. We need you to join us at the office."
A pang shot through her chest like a surge of electricity, and suddenly, her mouth was dry.
"What is it?"
Detective Davis looked past her right shoulder at Mandy. "We'll talk when we get there."
She looked over her shoulder at Mandy and then back to the officers. "Am I under arrest?"
"Not yet."
She felt as though someone had punched her in the stomach. She looked back at Mandy without really seeing her.
"Get Ben and tell him to call a lawyer and send him to the sheriff's office."
"What's going on?" Mandy said.
She threw her hand up. "Just tell him."
-10-
It was dark and dingy in the master's quarters.
The heavy drapes over the windows on the far wall from the door were all drawn permitting little light. And it smelled as though someone had smoked several packs of cigarettes with all the doors and windows shut.
Ben Eaton lay in his bed with the green comforter wrapped around him like death shrouds with his back to her. All the clothes he wore the day before were wadded and heaped in a bundle at the foot of the bed.
Mandy didn't want to go any further than the door.
Even if the man was her father, he was still a strange man, and merely staring in from the doorway made her feel like an intruder.
"Mr. Eaton," she whispered.
No movement.
"Ben!" she whispered louder.
But he didn't stir.
She took a step inside the room and stopped, looking about helplessly.
On the nightstand beside the bed was an ashtray full of cigarette butts running over and beside it, a half-used bottle of NyQuil and a medicine cup stained with the green liquid. And beside the alarm clock, an empty bottle of Bacardi.
"Ben," she said in her normal voice.
He rolled over and halfway opened his eyes, and Mandy took a step backwards.
His face was bloodless, and his eyes, at first glance seemed green.
"Amy needs you."
He moaned and rolled back over.
She took two steps toward him.
"She's in trouble."
Ben sighed. "No shit. Tell her to leave me the fuck alone."
"The police took her."
He rolled over on his back and sat up straight, and peered straight across the room at the mirror above his dresser.
"The Police?"
"She wanted me to tell you to get her a lawyer and have him meet her at the Sheriff's Office."
He looked at her wide eyed.
Blue eyes.
And the color had returned to his face.
"What in the hell is going on?"
"I don't know. They came by here yesterday and gave her the third degree, and now, they took her to the station."
He looked straight ahead again.
"Goddamnit."
His eyes flickered with something that looked like anger and realization.
He looked back at her.
"Okay, let me get dressed."
-11-
Detective Davis dealt three Polaroids neatly on the table before her like tarot cards.
Amy scanned each of them.
The first was a photo of what appeared to be the burned out frame of a car sitting on four tireless wheels in the middle of the woods. The second was a snapshot of a silver tire-iron lying in a mud puddle on the ground beside a set of tire tracks. And the third was a photograph of tread marks in the mud.
Davis pointed to the first Polaroid.
"You know what this is?"
She looked at him and then back down to the picture and shook her head.
"This is all that's left of a 2001 Chevrolet Corvette -- yellow. Now, I'll give you three guesses who it belongs to, and the first two don't count."
A pang of anxiety shot through her chest.
"Now this," he said pointing at the second photo. "Ain't quite as obvious, so let me just tell you. This is a tire iron we found on the side of the road a couple of miles away from the car."
"So?"
He nodded. "It's a little rusty from sittin out in the weather for several days, but we were still able to find out that it came out of a late model Honda Civic."
He pointed to the other picture.
"And these tread marks are also consistent with a Civic - Bridgestone P190 60R 15 to be exact."
Amy wanted a drink.
Detective Davis stood up straight and rubbed his mustache. "Now you can imagine how confused we were when we found out that you just happen to have a 2005 Honda Civic registered in your name."
Amy looked down at her hands which were neatly folded in her lap.
"So where is this car now?" the other detective said.
She looked at him. "I haven't even driven it in three months."
Davis laughed and shook his head. "Then how come I have this copy of a ticket with your signature on it from two days ago in Gainesville? Failure to Yield Right-of-Way."
"That was the day I turned it back in. -- The lease expired."
"How convenient," the other detective said.
Amy shook her head and looked at the closed white door of the interview room.
"So who did you turn it back in to?" Davis said.
She glared at him. "I think I'm done talking until my lawyer gets here."
Davis nodded. "Okay, I'll talk."
He collected the Polaroids from the table in front of her, and he nodded at the other man who stood up from his perch on the corner of his desk and stepped out into the hallway.
"If I get any of this wrong, tell me."
Amy rolled her eyes.
"Mr. Little came down here looking for a piece of ass, but when he got here, he found out how rich you were."
* * *
"Goddamn, which member of the royal family is Ben related to?" Dick said.
The morning sunlight caught the side of his face as he looked up at the mansion, and it caused his sandy hair to shimmer like straws of gold.
He looked back at her and grinned.
"Hell, he's worth more to you dead than alive."
She laughed.
* * *
"So he was gonna blackmail you. You probably had a pretty good quarrel, and you told him to get the hell out of your house."
* * *
She sat straight up -- the sheet that had been over her head drifted down her back and landed on his thighs behind her.
And she looked down on him lying on his back beneath her.
He was perfect.
Green eyes with flecks of blue.
A boyish smile.
Teeth as white as pearls and as straight as an orthodontists'.
But something was wrong this time.
She felt someone watching.
"What's wrong?" Dick said.
The smile faded from her mouth and she looked over her shoulder.
The door on the left wall that led out into the hallway from her side of the master's quarters -- the oval room -- was opened -- just a crack.
And just outside and scarcely obscured by the darkness beyond stood her husband.
* * *
"But he wasn't gone long before you realized what a mess you'd be in if he were to tell your husband something. So you got in your car and went after him. Maybe you flashed your lights and got him to pull over."
* * *
The blinker of the yellow corvette came on and the car veered off the road onto the soft shoulder. Ben pulled the Civic to a stop behind.
The driver's side door of the Corvette came open and Dick stepped out and looked around, and then he looked at the Honda and grinned.
"Aren't you afraid we're gonna get caught out here in the open?"
Ben grabbed the tire iron off the passenger's seat and stepped out.
The grin fell off Dick's face.
"Ben, I can explain."
Ben took a step toward Dick and Dick took a step backwards.
"It was just a one-time-thing that just kind of happened. You'll never see me again; I promise."
Ben stopped advancing and smiled at Dick, and his smile was so gracious and genuine that it confused Dick. He stopped talking and stood up straight.
"What's up, buddy?"
Ben raised the tire iron over his head.
Dick gasped and threw his hands up to protect himself.
Ben fired the tire iron down on him diagonally catching Dick's left temple and Dick fell straight to the ground.
* * *
"So is that about what happened?"
Amy looked up to Detective Davis and gave him a shit-eating grin. "I believe I just told you that I was done talking to you until my lawyer gets here."
Detective Davis dropped his hands and sighed.
(Continue to scenes 12 & 13)
Ben couldn't recall how he'd gotten here or how he came by the card in his hand. The gold face of the dial clock on the giant mahogany desk in the Master's study read 8:13, and judging by the burning light pouring in from the window behind him, it was morning.
And he felt rough. The heavy fingers of sleep tugged at him. It was all he could do to hold his eyes open. It was almost as though he were on some kind of drug.
The card was a simple off-white business card with an embossed Sheriff's Department logo in the upper left hand corner, and the brown lettering in its center read
Thomas R. Davis
Investigations
He turned around into the morning sun, and the light felt as though it was burning his skin. He pulled the red drapes shut closing out all light, and then he sat down behind the desk, lifted the phone off its cradle and dialed the number.
The phone buzzed four times before a morning-roughened voice said, "Investigations, Detective Davis speaking."
"Hi, I'm Ben Eaton. You wanted to talk with me?"
"Yeah, Mr. Eaton. How're you doin this mornin?"
"I'm good."
"That's great! Do you know a Richard Little?"
Ben cocked a half-grin. "Yeah, Dick Little. We give him all kinds of shit about his name."
Davis paused for a moment -- long enough to let Ben know that he thought his comment was inappropriate.
"Where do you know him from?"
"We graduated the same semester from college with the same degree. He was my roommate during our freshman year."
"Heard from him lately?"
Ben shook his head. "Not since I quit the Gainesville Publix and moved to Lakewood Village. Why?"
"Well, the old boy's come up missin, and we're lookin into it for the Gainesville Police."
Ben couldn't believe his ears. He sat back in his chair, and stared at the wall for a long moment.
"Mr. Eaton?" Davis said.
"How long?" he said.
"No one's heard from him in over two weeks. Do you know where he might've gone?"
"I dunno. Maybe he went off somewhere with some woman. He's always been a womanizer."
"He ever done that before?"
"Not that I can remember, but Dick's been a little unpredictable since his divorce."
"Has he been to your house?"
"No. He doesn't know where I live. All I told him was that I'd inherited a house in Lakewood Village and a lot of money."
"Any chance your wife might've invited him over?"
"Amy? Nah. She's never really liked him; she just tolerated him."
"Okay," he said. "I appreciate you callin me, sir, and you have my card. If you hear anything from him, give me a buzz."
Ben frowned. "Absolutely."
The phone clicked on the other end. Ben hung the receiver back on the cradle and rubbed his forehead.
What in the hell was that all about?
-9-
"Earth to Amy."
She jumped and turned her head in the direction of the voice.
Mandy Green had somehow crept into the kitchen behind her and was sitting behind her on a barstool behind the pine-topped center island propping her head up.
"I didn't see you there," Amy said.
Mandy sat up straight and nodded. "If you want to drink that much coffee, you'll need a bigger mug."
Amy looked down at the bare pine countertop and noticed the puddle of coffee around the blue mug.
"Shit," she said, and she snatched a towel off the rack hanging over the triple-basin, stainless steel sink.
"Are you Okay?" Mandy said.
Amy didn't respond. She merely went about the business of wiping up her mess and pouring the excess coffee out of the mug and into the sink.
"You look tired," she persisted.
Amy turned around and eyed her. "Today, I think we're going to go through some of the rooms on this floor and throw out a bunch of furniture and stuff that no one will ever use again."
"Okay."
"You did good yesterday."
Mandy smiled.
A chiming rang through the house. It was the same tune that Big Ben in London chimes every hour but the tone of it was much colder like the sound of tubular bells.
"What's that?" Mandy said.
Amy rubbed her temples. "The doorbell. What now?"
"You want me to get it?"
She huffed. "Ask 'em for a name, and if they say anything other than Dick Little, tell them I'm dead."
Mandy nodded and left the room.
Amy looked down at the black liquid in her coffee mug half wishing she had a shot of schnapps to go in it.
Mandy returned in a few minutes with all the color drained out of her face.
"What?" Amy sighed.
"It's the police. They said it's urgent."
Amy dumped her coffee out in the sink. "Terrific!"
She sat her coffee cup down and made her way to the front door.
Detective Davis and his pet stood outside on the stoop just like the day before, Davis wore all black and sunglasses despite the gray sky.
"Yes?" she said.
"Ms. Eaton, there's been some developments. We need you to join us at the office."
A pang shot through her chest like a surge of electricity, and suddenly, her mouth was dry.
"What is it?"
Detective Davis looked past her right shoulder at Mandy. "We'll talk when we get there."
She looked over her shoulder at Mandy and then back to the officers. "Am I under arrest?"
"Not yet."
She felt as though someone had punched her in the stomach. She looked back at Mandy without really seeing her.
"Get Ben and tell him to call a lawyer and send him to the sheriff's office."
"What's going on?" Mandy said.
She threw her hand up. "Just tell him."
-10-
It was dark and dingy in the master's quarters.
The heavy drapes over the windows on the far wall from the door were all drawn permitting little light. And it smelled as though someone had smoked several packs of cigarettes with all the doors and windows shut.
Ben Eaton lay in his bed with the green comforter wrapped around him like death shrouds with his back to her. All the clothes he wore the day before were wadded and heaped in a bundle at the foot of the bed.
Mandy didn't want to go any further than the door.
Even if the man was her father, he was still a strange man, and merely staring in from the doorway made her feel like an intruder.
"Mr. Eaton," she whispered.
No movement.
"Ben!" she whispered louder.
But he didn't stir.
She took a step inside the room and stopped, looking about helplessly.
On the nightstand beside the bed was an ashtray full of cigarette butts running over and beside it, a half-used bottle of NyQuil and a medicine cup stained with the green liquid. And beside the alarm clock, an empty bottle of Bacardi.
"Ben," she said in her normal voice.
He rolled over and halfway opened his eyes, and Mandy took a step backwards.
His face was bloodless, and his eyes, at first glance seemed green.
"Amy needs you."
He moaned and rolled back over.
She took two steps toward him.
"She's in trouble."
Ben sighed. "No shit. Tell her to leave me the fuck alone."
"The police took her."
He rolled over on his back and sat up straight, and peered straight across the room at the mirror above his dresser.
"The Police?"
"She wanted me to tell you to get her a lawyer and have him meet her at the Sheriff's Office."
He looked at her wide eyed.
Blue eyes.
And the color had returned to his face.
"What in the hell is going on?"
"I don't know. They came by here yesterday and gave her the third degree, and now, they took her to the station."
He looked straight ahead again.
"Goddamnit."
His eyes flickered with something that looked like anger and realization.
He looked back at her.
"Okay, let me get dressed."
-11-
Detective Davis dealt three Polaroids neatly on the table before her like tarot cards.
Amy scanned each of them.
The first was a photo of what appeared to be the burned out frame of a car sitting on four tireless wheels in the middle of the woods. The second was a snapshot of a silver tire-iron lying in a mud puddle on the ground beside a set of tire tracks. And the third was a photograph of tread marks in the mud.
Davis pointed to the first Polaroid.
"You know what this is?"
She looked at him and then back down to the picture and shook her head.
"This is all that's left of a 2001 Chevrolet Corvette -- yellow. Now, I'll give you three guesses who it belongs to, and the first two don't count."
A pang of anxiety shot through her chest.
"Now this," he said pointing at the second photo. "Ain't quite as obvious, so let me just tell you. This is a tire iron we found on the side of the road a couple of miles away from the car."
"So?"
He nodded. "It's a little rusty from sittin out in the weather for several days, but we were still able to find out that it came out of a late model Honda Civic."
He pointed to the other picture.
"And these tread marks are also consistent with a Civic - Bridgestone P190 60R 15 to be exact."
Amy wanted a drink.
Detective Davis stood up straight and rubbed his mustache. "Now you can imagine how confused we were when we found out that you just happen to have a 2005 Honda Civic registered in your name."
Amy looked down at her hands which were neatly folded in her lap.
"So where is this car now?" the other detective said.
She looked at him. "I haven't even driven it in three months."
Davis laughed and shook his head. "Then how come I have this copy of a ticket with your signature on it from two days ago in Gainesville? Failure to Yield Right-of-Way."
"That was the day I turned it back in. -- The lease expired."
"How convenient," the other detective said.
Amy shook her head and looked at the closed white door of the interview room.
"So who did you turn it back in to?" Davis said.
She glared at him. "I think I'm done talking until my lawyer gets here."
Davis nodded. "Okay, I'll talk."
He collected the Polaroids from the table in front of her, and he nodded at the other man who stood up from his perch on the corner of his desk and stepped out into the hallway.
"If I get any of this wrong, tell me."
Amy rolled her eyes.
"Mr. Little came down here looking for a piece of ass, but when he got here, he found out how rich you were."
* * *
"Goddamn, which member of the royal family is Ben related to?" Dick said.
The morning sunlight caught the side of his face as he looked up at the mansion, and it caused his sandy hair to shimmer like straws of gold.
He looked back at her and grinned.
"Hell, he's worth more to you dead than alive."
She laughed.
* * *
"So he was gonna blackmail you. You probably had a pretty good quarrel, and you told him to get the hell out of your house."
* * *
She sat straight up -- the sheet that had been over her head drifted down her back and landed on his thighs behind her.
And she looked down on him lying on his back beneath her.
He was perfect.
Green eyes with flecks of blue.
A boyish smile.
Teeth as white as pearls and as straight as an orthodontists'.
But something was wrong this time.
She felt someone watching.
"What's wrong?" Dick said.
The smile faded from her mouth and she looked over her shoulder.
The door on the left wall that led out into the hallway from her side of the master's quarters -- the oval room -- was opened -- just a crack.
And just outside and scarcely obscured by the darkness beyond stood her husband.
* * *
"But he wasn't gone long before you realized what a mess you'd be in if he were to tell your husband something. So you got in your car and went after him. Maybe you flashed your lights and got him to pull over."
* * *
The blinker of the yellow corvette came on and the car veered off the road onto the soft shoulder. Ben pulled the Civic to a stop behind.
The driver's side door of the Corvette came open and Dick stepped out and looked around, and then he looked at the Honda and grinned.
"Aren't you afraid we're gonna get caught out here in the open?"
Ben grabbed the tire iron off the passenger's seat and stepped out.
The grin fell off Dick's face.
"Ben, I can explain."
Ben took a step toward Dick and Dick took a step backwards.
"It was just a one-time-thing that just kind of happened. You'll never see me again; I promise."
Ben stopped advancing and smiled at Dick, and his smile was so gracious and genuine that it confused Dick. He stopped talking and stood up straight.
"What's up, buddy?"
Ben raised the tire iron over his head.
Dick gasped and threw his hands up to protect himself.
Ben fired the tire iron down on him diagonally catching Dick's left temple and Dick fell straight to the ground.
* * *
"So is that about what happened?"
Amy looked up to Detective Davis and gave him a shit-eating grin. "I believe I just told you that I was done talking to you until my lawyer gets here."
Detective Davis dropped his hands and sighed.
(Continue to scenes 12 & 13)
Post Comment
