Bad Things (35 page)

Rick just stared at him, the ghost of a smile etched in his eyes, tilting the corners of his mouth. Dakota had an obscene thought and the good sense to keep it to himself. “We need to talk about Shelly.”

“I'm listening.”

“No. We need to sit and talk. There's some weird shit going on, and we need to figure out where it's coming from”

“You want to go in the house or something?”

“No, Jade hates me. But her poodle loves me. It tried to fuck me, but it didn't have a condom, so I kicked it.” He smiled coyly. “I was thinking we might go to a drinking establishment, but I guess you can't leave Cody with the wicked witch in there?”

“Lord, no! He's with Carmen. They're working on his Halloween costume.” He didn't look very happy about that, then his expression changed. “Jesus, Dakota. I wouldn't leave a juvenile delinquent with Jade!”

“Not that I blame you, but you
really
don't like her, do you?”

“No, I
really
don't. She's as bad as I remembered. Worse maybe. Come on. There's an overpriced English pub oozing atmosphere over on Via Pecado. Your sister likes it.”

“Sounds great. Stupid street name, though.”

“I guess you're not a Southwest native.”

“Manhattan, hon.”

Rick nodded sagely. “Come on. I'll get cleaned up and let Carmen know we're leaving.”

While Rick showered, Dakota had a short, gleeful reunion with Cody, during which he promised to bunk in with him, and met Carmen, whom he adored instantly, primarily because she told him he was gorgeous, and he knew sincerity when he heard it. She gave him a nickel tour of the house, and his only disappointment was that Jade's dead poodles were not on display. The good news was that Jade was nowhere to be seen.

Within a half hour, he and Rick were in Briarwood Tavern, sipping from chill mugs of British ale in a dark corner of an authentically sawdusted room while a couple guys who looked like redneck college grads—if there was such a thing—threw darts badly, at a board just close enough for discomfort.

Vapor curled up from Rick's mug. “What about my daughter? Is she all right? Why won't she come home?'

“She's fine. Now, slow down. This is weird, okay?”

“What's weird?” Piper asked sharply. “You keep saying ‘weird.' Has something happened?”

“No. Yes. I don't know.”

“Jesus Christ, would you explain already?”

“If you'll shut up for a minute, I will,” Dakota said testily. “She says . . . she says she's afraid of you, Piper.”

Rick sputtered, sending beer drops spraying. “Afraid of
me?
For God's sake, why?”

“Look, I don't know why or how, but she thinks . . . well, she thinks . . .”

“Just spit it out, for Christ's sake!”

The dart boys looked, and Dakota smiled at them. “Keep your voice down, Piper. If you don't, I won't tell you.”

“Okay, okay.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah, yeah, I promise. What the hell is going on?”

“That's what I want to know,” Dakota said, his voice low and intense. “She says—this is really hard, Rick. She was so upset.”

“Go on,” Piper said grimly.

Dakota nodded. “Okay. Don't get all excited when I tell you.”

Piper nodded impatiently.

“Don't have a shit hemorrhage—”

“Tell me,” he growled.

Dakota swallowed. “Shelly believes you attacked her.”

“What?”

“Be quiet. She says you tried to rape her.”

“Rape
her?”

“Shhhh! Shut the hell up.”

Piper lowered his voice a tad. “Rape her? My own daughter says
I
tried to rape her?”

“She says she woke up sometime during the night and found you on top of her and that when she fought you, you socked her in the head.”

“Enough.” Rick slammed his mug down, and beer sloshed across the table. “I've heard enough.”

The dart boys gave them another glance, then one shrugged and said something, no doubt derogatory.

“Look, Piper. I know you're upset, but we have to figure out what's wrong, what
really
happened to her.”

“Yeah. Oh, Lord, Dakota.” He ran his fingers through his hair, the expression on his face so boyish and confounded that Dakota had to resist the urge to take his hand. “She was happy. She told me she liked it here, and then all of a sudden she splits and says—Oh Lord. I'd never,
never—”

“I know, Ricky. And she does, too, deep inside, but something scared the shit out of her.” He paused. “You're white as the driven, Piper.”

“My brother's voice,” Piper said slowly. “Sometimes I hear old memories. I just heard one. My brother's voice, singing, ‘Lay, lay, roll in the hay.' He sang that about Evangeline. That was Jade and Howard's daughter, Evangeline. He claimed they did it in the hay a lot. Old dirty hay that had been in the garage for years.”

My brother's voice,
Dakota thought. Considering that they had the same voice, the remark seemed odd. “Who did it in the hay?”

“Robin and Evangeline. He liked to screw her. He liked to screw Aunt Jade too. And he talked in rhymes. ‘Jade got made, I made Jade. Evangeline lying, lying for me. Wheee,' ” he said dryly. “Evangeline was a hard one for him to rhyme. But not to screw.” He downed his ale. “He—my brother, my twin—he would have raped his own daughter, just as surely as he raped his aunt and cousin.”

“That may be, but you're not your brother.”

“I hope not.”

“Don't go getting esoteric on me, Piper.” Dakota paused. “It doesn't sound like he actually raped them, does it?”

“No. I doubt it. I think he seduced them. He was sort of a Svengali type. All charm.”

“Or maybe it was just the freak angle?”

“What?”

“You know. Amputee lust, do it with dwarves, like Snow White. Necrophilia with Sleeping Beauty. Swamp Thing and his lady love. Freaks are very popular,” he added. “You wouldn't believe the offers I get. There are a lot of fucked-up people out there.”

“You ought to know,” Piper added dryly.

“At least
I
admit it,” he said, motioning the bartender for another round.

Rick stared at him. “What are you implying?”

“You know exactly what I mean. You're fucked up as hell. You gotta get over this brother thing; you're letting him run your life even though he's been dead for years. You're apologizing for what he did. And I think you're letting Jade run you into the ground.”

“No, I'm not.”

“The fact that she's in that house speaks volumes. It's your house. I think she's probably behind your problem with Shelly. Get her out of your house, Piper.”

“I'm thinking about it. Did Shelly say something about her?”

“Not much. She said you act funny around the old douche-bag, something like that. She was so busy being freaked out over the other thing that I didn't hear much else.”

The fresh ale arrived. “Thanks, hon,” Dakota said to the barman, who looked O'Keefe up and down, trying to figure out just what he was talking to. He was cute, and Dakota wished he had his blond wig and makeup on. “Look, Piper,” he said after the man walked away. “Think. What could have happened to Shelly? A nightmare wouldn't hit her.”

“I don't know. I really don't. I went through the house and didn't find anything unlocked or broken. Jade's the only answer, but still, that's not really good enough.”

“Jade,” Dakota repeated. “It must be.”

“I don't think so,” Rick said, a hint of finality in his voice. “It's too farfetched. God, this whole thing gives me the creeps.” He drank more beer. “You know, two weeks ago I even went through the house and nailed all the hidden passages closed. Shelly keeps her door locked, so I just don't see how—”

“Secret passages?”

Rick nodded. “Robin used to use them to travel all over the house.”

“I should've known that mausoleum has secret passages.”

“Of course. And Robin loved them. He showed up all over the place. Including on top of me.”

Dakota raised his eyebrows. “To frighten, not rape. He put a pillow over my face and tried to smother me on a number of occasions. There's a mark in the wall in Cody's room where he came after me with a knife.”

“My God, Piper! You told me he was disgusting, but you didn't say he was murderous.” Behind the look of concern he'd plastered on his face, the possibilities horrified him. “Why didn't your parents stop him?”

“Because they didn't know. Robin convinced me that they'd send me to the funny farm if I told. I moved into Carmen's old room when she got married. She gave me a key to the door lock and showed me that she'd nailed the passage to her room closed. That's Shelly's room now.”

Carmen, Dakota realized, could verify some of this, if necessary. He smiled at Rick. “You're getting drunk. Let's order some fish and chips.”

“Good idea.”

“Now, tell me all about your brother.”

Two hours passed, dinner was eaten, more ale drunk, and Dakota got further into Piper's mysterious mind than ever before. That was part of the reason he liked the guy so well—you couldn't read him. Piper sat there all suave and handsome and charming in spite of the tenseness he couldn't hide. Piper, Dakota decided, was glib, a good daddy, probably a good lover, sincere as hell, and contained not a drop of snake oil. But there was something else there, hiding just below the surface, that forever eluded Dakota, a secret of some sort. He suspected now that it had to do with the abuse he'd suffered at the hands of his brother. Piper had told him about everything from finding Jade's poodle in his shower to the details of Delia's death and the guilt he felt over it. He'd talked about his wife, Laura, for the first time. She'd been run down by a drunk while on her way to meet Rick for lunch, and he obviously felt responsibility for her death too.

He confessed then that he was falling in love with Audrey and that he was afraid he'd hurt her, too. Dakota, warmly drunk, felt one moment of anxiety before tears sprang to his eyes. He wished he knew how to take Rick Piper's pain away, how to make him understand that Laura's and Delia's deaths weren't his fault.

“Dakota?” Rick said. “Are you crying?”

Dakota wiped a tear from his cheek. “Indulging in romance, Piper. It must be lonely in there.”

“Huh?”

“Huh?”

“In you.”

“No.”

“Oh, shut up and listen.” He reached across the table and patted Rick's hand before he could draw it away. “You need love, Piper. Don't be afraid.”

“I'm flattered, but I'm not into—”

“No, you moron, not me. My sister. She's nuts about you. You are
so
fucked up, Piper. You're so afraid.” Even as he said it, he wondered if he meant it. Everything Rick had told him tonight could mean he was a dangerous lunatic who only
thought
he was the victim. He could be throwing his sister to a maniac. Still, Dakota's intuition told him that, no matter how farfetched Piper's stories were, the man was okay, and when push came to shove, Dakota always listened to his intuition.

Back at the house, Audrey, just back from her convention, joined them for the evening. Rick insisted on telling her the details about Shelly, and for that, Dakota was glad. He watched his sister carefully, but she showed no signs of mistrusting Rick, only support and puzzlement.

Around eleven, Jade's almost nightly moaning and groaning started up, and to Dakota's disappointment, Rick wouldn't stay for the show, but took them out on the front porch to talk. Rick kept looking out toward the oak tree, trying hard to hide his nervousness.

“I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't heard it myself,” Dakota said. “Maybe she really does have something to do with Shelly's scare, Piper. She's a nympho. A psycho nympho. Hey,” he added suddenly, “when you shut off all those secret passages, did you do the ones in her rooms too?”

“No, I didn't, but I guess I should. I'll get Carmen to take her somewhere, and do it.” He frowned. “But even if she did have something to do with it, how'd she manage to look like me?”

“I don't know, I just think she might be involved. She's jealous as hell of Shelly, isn't she? She picks on her.”

“She picks on everyone.”

“Rick,” Audrey said. “Duane—I mean Dakota—has a point.” She glanced toward the old oak. “Look at those leaves blow. At this rate, the trees will be bare in no time.”

“Naked trees,” Dakota purred. “How totally kinky. Piper, are there any jack-offs there?”

“Yes,” he said slowly. “Lots of them.”

“I wish I could see them,” Dakota said softly.

Rick looked at him in amazement. “You really mean that, don't you?”

“Yes” He sniffed. “I feel deprived.”

“Me, too,” Audrey said. Rick shook his head. “I can't believe what I'm hearing.”

“Where's Quint?” Dakota suddenly asked. “You said he can see them, too?”

Rick nodded. “Come on inside.”

Jade's orgasms were over, thank God. They were hilarious on one hand, Dakota had decided, but horrifying on the other.

“I'll be right back.” Rick left them in the living room and headed up the stairs. When he returned a few minutes later, he held his cat—wearing a leash and collar—in his arms. “Quint's been staying at Carmen's since the poodle incident, but she and Hector were going out tonight, so I brought him back early and locked him in my room.”

He carried the cat to the covered picture window. “Quint can see them,” he explained. Gently but firmly, he gripped the loose skin at the cat's neck with one hand and trapped his body against him, holding the back legs loosely with the other. The cat faced the stairwell.

Rick smiled grimly. “He doesn't like them at all. Open the drapes, please, Audrey.”

She did.

“Now, watch the cat,” Rick ordered, turning the feline to face the window.

Quint's eyes grew huge, then his ears went flat back and the fur ridged up on his back. Dakota shivered; the cat was scared shitless. A low growl started in its throat, rose to a shriek, and suddenly the animal exploded in Rick's arms, kicking and hissing and biting. One front leg shot free, and claws raked across Rick's cheek. He let go of the cat, and it flopped on the floor in its panic, righted itself, and raced up the stairs, dragging its leash as it disappeared in the direction of Rick's room.

Rick gingerly patted his cheek. “A lot of good the leash did. Do you believe me now?”

“That was incredible,” Audrey said.

“Jesus Christ,” Dakota breathed. “I've got goose bumps on my balls.”

“Please answer my question,” Rick said, even more softly.

“I believe you, Piper.”

The color had drained from Audrey's face. “Me too. Rick? Your cheek's bleeding—”

“It's okay,” he interrupted. “Excuse me. I have to take care of the cat. I'll be right back.” He turned and went up the stairs.

Dakota looked at Audrey. “I don't know what the fuck is going on here.”

“Me either. You want to come back to my place tonight? You can have the couch.”

“No. I promised Cody I'd bunk with him. Besides, I want to keep an eye on things. Until we have an explanation, you know.”

Her eyes were sad. “He didn't do what Shelly says he did. He's not capable of it. He's the most gentle man in the world.”

“He said he almost killed his brother once.”

“Almost. He also said he realized what he was doing and stopped.”

“Audrey, be careful. I don't want to think he did it, and my instincts don't believe it, but I'm afraid that could be because he's not stable . . .”

She opened her mouth, but he shushed her.

“I think that if he is responsible, he isn't
responsible,
you know what I mean?”

She shook her head no.

“If he did do it, I don't think he knows he did it. Maybe he's got a split personality or something. All that brother stuff.”

Audrey looked stricken. “I don't believe it.”

“Then let's find proof.”

Audrey nodded. “If you're wondering if Robin existed, I can tell you that he did. Rick showed me some photos taken before their parents died. And Carmen talked about him too. He was horrible. He died in a fire. Carmen has the newspaper clipping. I saw it.”

“Christ, I'm glad to hear that. Audrey, I
don't
think he did anything. I'm just playing devil's advocate.”

“I know, Duane. You're good at that.”

“Besides, you're my sister. What kind of brother would I be if I didn't worry about you?”

Audrey stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “I know, and I appreciate you very much.”

“Boy, was that cat pissed,” Rick said as he came back into the room. “Supremely pissed.” He had washed the claw marks, and they stood out blatantly against his pale skin. “But I think he's okay now.”

“Good. We won't put him through that again.” Audrey glanced out the window. “I'm exhausted. I'm going home to bed. Will you fellas see me out?”

They walked her to her car and watched until she was out on the street. Dakota shivered, watching the leaves in the grass. “You know, Piper, it's scary knowing those jack-offs are there and not being able to see them.”

“In this case, what you can't see won't hurt you,” Rick said dryly. “Believe me, if I could trade you eyes, I would.”

“Let's go in.”

“Yeah.” They went inside, and Rick locked the door, then pulled the drapes closed. “Tomorrow night is the dangerous night, Dakota. Halloween.”

“Shelly's going to a party?”

“The overnight,” Rick said. “I hope to hell we know what happened before then, but either way, she won't be here.”

“What about Cody?”

“Audrey and I were planning on taking Cody trick-or-treating, very early. Do you want to come?”

“Yes.” He grinned. “I brought a costume. I love dressing up for Halloween.”

“You just love dressing up.”

Dakota gave him a shit-eating grin. “Do you have any lines on parties?”

“No. We're coming back before full dark and staying in, where it's safe.” He hesitated. “We're planning on watching for Big Jack.” He hesitated, obviously trying to make light of something that was deadly serious to him. “If we both see him, we'll know I'm not a raving lunatic.”

“It's Big Jack night. If I stick around, do I get to see him, too?”

“I hope so. I'd like you both to see him. That would make me feel . . . less weird.” Yawning, he checked his watch. “Let's get some sleep.”

A few minutes later, Dakota entered the upstairs bathroom to brush his teeth, then stripped to shorts and T-shirt before quietly letting himself into Cody's room. The boy was fast asleep on the race-car bed by the window. Dakota eased his six-foot-four-inch frame onto the old twin bed near the door. His legs hung over the end, and he knew this wasn't going to be much fun.

He lay quietly on the bed, unable to sleep, his brain going a hundred miles an hour, asking himself questions he had no answers for. As he was about to give up and go take a sleeping pill, he heard a scratching noise emanating from somewhere near the closets. “Cody, Cody!” whispered a voice.

Across the room, the boy sat up.

“Cody!” the voice whispered again.

“Hi, Bob,” the little boy said.

“Cody, Cody, let's hit the roady!”

The boy giggled, then shoved his hand over his mouth, looking toward Dakota, who studiously feigned sleep. Quietly, Cody got out of bed and approached the closet. As he opened the door and stepped in, Dakota could hear him giggling. There was a funny sliding sound and the giggling grew faint, then disappeared altogether.

Rising, Dakota turned on the overhead light and crossed to the closet as quietly as he could.

He looked inside.

Cody wasn't there.

A half dozen nails, some slightly bent, were scattered on the floor. He saw empty nail holes around a two-and-a-half-foot square on the wall.

“Shit.” With a whole new load of goose bumps rising on his balls, Dakota went to tell Rick.