I don’t go around and ruin things for her.
“...furniture was here, along with the baby’s rattles and stuffed animals.”
It isn’t fair.
“...cradle where he was sleeping...even his blood stains on the floor.”
I’ve wanted to come here for years. Seen all the movies, read the books, and now finally I get a chance to come and she’s gotta wreck it for me.
“...if the door had been locked and never opened again after that awful night.”
Thanks a hell of a lot, Monica.
“...nursery presents a gruesome and disturbing sight, I decided that everything should remain just as it was.” she’ll probably be pouting for the rest of the trip.
“...what Maggie...”
Like it’s all my fault. Like I’m some sort of asshole. And I’m gonna be stuck with her pouting and giving me grief all week. Maybe she’ll want to call the whole trip to a halt and fly on home tomorrow.
Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing.
“...I saw the awful, pale beast drag my little baby out of his cradle and fall upon him.”
It’s Maggie. Shit, I’ve missed...
“...beyond my power to help him.”
Hand trembling, Owen shut off the player. He pushed the Rewind button.
As the tape hissed in his ears, a couple in front of him moved on, leaving the doorway clear. He stepped up to the cordon. Now he could see the entire nursery.
A rocking horse, its paint faded. Wooden blocks on the floor. A stuffed bunny, gray with dust and age.
Blood.
Dry blood, dark brown, all over the cradle and quilt.
A rag doll in the cradle, arms and legs spread, mouth a surprised O, cloth body stained all over. It looked like a mop-headed victim of a thrill killer.
The hardwood floor in front of the cradle was darkly stained.
On the flowered wallpaper six feet behind the cradle was a splatter pattern of blood that made Owen wonder if the beast had swung the baby around, maybe by its feet, after ripping it open.
There didn’t seem to be a wax figure of the infant.
Good thing, Owen thought. The nursery was bad enough without that.
Good thing Monica isn’t getting a look at this. She’d really flip out.
He could just hear her. Oh, Owie, how can you stand to look at this? There must really be something wrong with you. Maybe you need therapy. Has that ever occurred to you? I think you should definitely see someone about your problems.
The problem is you, honey.
Owen laughed softly.
A woman near his shoulder turned her head and frowned at him.
Blow it out your ass, lady.
“Sorry,” he muttered, trying to sound contrite.
She looked away.
And Owen suddenly realized that his tape player was still rewinding.
Shit!
He pressed the Stop button, then the Play.
Maggie’s voice.
“...got done murdering Ethel, it went on a rampage around the room. It knocked over this bust of Caesar, breaking off his nose. See, this...”
Owen shut it off.
He stared at the player.
How the hell far back...? That’s in Ethel’s room. Right at the start of the tour!
He sighed. He almost felt like crying.
Thanks a lot, Monica.
He pressed the Fast Forward button.
Now it’s gonna take forever. And she’ll be down there waiting for me, getting madder and madder...
He shut it off.
Then he stepped away from the nursery door and started making his way through the crowded hallway.
Heading for the stairs.
Because it was over.
He wouldn’t be able to enjoy the tour, anyway. Not with Monica in his head.
Maybe someday I’ll be able to come back again-without her—and get to go on the tour without having it ruined.
Owen walked out onto the porch of Beast House. The bright sunlight hurt his eyes and made him squint.
Monica, standing near the end of the porch, saw him and tilted her head sideways. Then she hurried over to him. “That didn’t take so long,” she said, sounding quite cheerful.
“Nope,” Owen said, and pulled off his earphones.
They stepped past the hanging body of Gus Goucher and walked down the stairs.
“So,” Monica said. “Was it everything you expected?”
“It was fine.”
“Great! I’m glad at least one of us had a good time.”
“Yeah.”
She took hold of his hand as they walked toward the ticket booth. He didn’t pull it away.
“Look at all these people,” she said. “Don’t they know what they’re letting themselves in for?”
“Probably not,” Owen said.
As they neared the booth, he saw that the person handing out tape players to arriving visitors was the guide he’d seen by the attic stairs.
The tall, fabulous blonde.
The tight cold knot inside his chest suddenly seemed to start melting.
My God, look at her.
“Oh, great,” Monica muttered. Apparently, she too had recognized the girl. “King Kong.”
Owen felt no anger.
He stared at the guide. She was sure large, all right, but she had a very good figure. She looked great in the tan blouse and shorts that seemed to be the uniform for Beast House guides.
Her bare arms and legs were softly tanned. Unfortunately, she wore sunglasses. He couldn’t see her eyes, but he. had no trouble remembering how they’d looked upstairs in the house—deep blue and intelligent and sensitive.
Though busy handing out tape players and giving instructions to a family of four, she flashed a smile of big white teeth at Owen and Monica. In a smooth, friendly voice, she said to them, “I’ll take those from you in just a moment, okay?”
“Fine,” Owen said. He felt weak.
He watched her until the family headed off toward Beast House. Then he and Monica stepped toward her. “Sorry you had to wait,” she said, taking their players and headphone. “I hope you enjoyed the tour.”
“It was very nice,” Owen said.
She wore a red plastic name plate above her right breast. It read, DANA.
“Did you come from far away?” she asked.
“We took the bus over from San Francisco.”
“Really? How was the ride?”
“Long,” Monica said. “Endless and...”
“It was fine,” Owen said, shooting a hard glance at Monica.
She gave him back a smug smile.
To Dana, he said, “The guide on the bus—Patty—she was really good.”
“Glad to hear it. So, do you think Beast House was worth the trip?”
“I sure thought so,” Owen said.
In the corner of his eye, he saw Monica shaking her head.
“I thought it was really great,” he added.
“Terrific,” Dana said. “Well, I hope you both enjoy the rest of your day.”
“Thank you. You, too.”
“So long, now.”
“Bye,” Owen said and hurried away from her, dragging Monica by the hand.
Chapter Thirteen
THE SNACK STAND
I wonder what their problem is, Dana thought as she watched the couple hurry away. The guy had seemed awfully embarrassed and uncomfortable about something. Girlfriend troubles, probably. The girl with him had looked smirky and mean.
She remembered seeing them upstairs, earlier.
The gal had seemed unpleasant even then. Maybe she was one of those people who hated the place.