The Hunt Chronicles: Volume 1 (2 page)

Maddie
excused herself after dessert, claiming to need to
prepare my room and unpack her things.  As she walked away, I could have
sworn I saw a cactus spine poking out of her caboose.

Nona was in the
kitchen with Thomas quietly murmuring as they cleaned dishes.

I looked to my left
at Donald, whose eyes were filled with something that looked so timid.  His
restaurant had come up several times during the meal, but his father had
swatted away the topic every time.  Just then, Donald McCune pushed
everyone into a very uncomfortable place, and it started with a question to
me.  “
Wanna
hear my plan for the restaurant?” 
Wilson glared impatiently at his son.

“Stop bothering him,
Donald!  I’m sure he’s not interested in the slightest.”  I turned
back to Donald and lifted my eyebrows.

“Well, it might be
interesting to hear a restaurateur’s strategy,” I said.  “Your plan is
what, exactly?”

“His
plan,
”
Wilson interrupted sarcastically, “is to have me host some damn fiesta in the
place with all of my buddies from down town and…”

“Not just those
buddies,” Donald said earnestly.  “Dad has important friends;
famous
friends. 
The Governor of Connecticut and some of the most respected men in the
northeast.  I was going to hire a photographer to take some pictures and
then plaster them all over the Wellington Word-that’s our paper up here.” 
I nodded.  “I thought that if some of the average Joes in town saw men
like that having a good time in the place, they’d think themselves upper class
just to be on the waiting list…get it?”  I nodded again.  “So what do
you think?”  My eyes grew wide and I found breaths hard to take in. 
How
are you going to answer this one? 
Little Reevan asked. 
Do
you tell him his idea sounds good, possibly humiliating your gracious host, or
do you tell him to put that thought on the shelf and wait for a real one to
drop in?
  Apparently, Wilson didn’t care what I thought, or was just
afraid of what I might have said given the opportunity.  He pounded a fist
on the table before I could answer, thankfully drawing the attention away from
me.

“You are
outrageous!”  Wilson cried out.  My ears began to ring and the
chandelier began to shake.  “First you ask me for money to save that
pathetic excuse for an eatery.  Then you try to wheedle me into eating
there and embarrassing myself in front of my colleagues.  Now you
disrespect a guest of this house by putting him in such an awkward
position?  Not while I’m running the show, boy!  Get out of my sight
until you’ve either gained some business sense or you’ve changed your name so
it no longer shames mine!”  The clatter and chatter in the kitchen had
stopped.  Cheryl and Richard were looking at their laps as if there was
something worth seeing down there.  I turned to Donald who was standing
and shaking with what looked like a fierce combination embarrassment and
rage.  He looked down at me with eyes that were black and hollow.

“I’m sorry if I made
you uncomfortable, Mr. Hunt.”  That was all there was.  He left the
dining room, left the house, left McCune Hall altogether according to the
clanging of the gates.  If I was Donald McCune that night, I would have
left Earth in a rocket ship, landed on the moon and buried my head in the sand.

After another hour
or two of catching up, Wilson McCune announced he was going to retire to his
study for the evening with a quick brandy before bed.  He left the room,
shaking my hand once more and telling me I was welcome to stay in his home as
long as I liked.  Cheryl excused herself shortly afterwards.  Richard
and I looked at each other and smiled.  “Is dinner this much fun every
night?”

“No, only the nights
we try to be a family,” Richard replied, and we both chuckled.  I shifted
into Donald’s chair and leaned in towards Richard.

“Does your father
still drink as much as he used to?”  I whispered.  Richard nodded.

“Almost
as much as Donald, assuming he can lift the glass.
  Even more since Mother passed.”  I nodded
and leaned back.

“Did your father
actually give Donald money for the restaurant?”  Richard opened his mouth
to answer but he was stifled abruptly by a loud clearing of someone’s throat
coming from the kitchen.  We both turned to see Thomas glaring through the
serving window.  Then he turned to face Nona and they both left the
kitchen through its far door.

“Thomas says family
business should stay in the family,” Richard whispered.  I leaned in
again; our noses almost touched.  A hint of an eerie smile formed at the
corners of his mouth.

“If Thomas is so
smart,” I began, “then why hasn’t he figured out a way to pull that stick out
of his ass?”

“We can’t all be
retired professors like you,” he whispered back with a smile.

McCune Hall would be
very quiet for the next few minutes, with the exception of our occasional
guffaws and the sound of falling rain.

Richard went on
ahead after we left the dining room, trudging up a long winding
staircase.  I had first planned on walking straight as well, passing the
staircase and down the long sterile hall to my room.  Fate, however, had
different plans for me that evening.  I did not move forward, but rather
backed up and veered left.  Apparently fate was urging me passed the
kitchen towards Wilson McCune’s study.  Fate clearly wanted me to eavesdrop
on a very loud conversation.

At first it was
nothing but thunderous yells and a few thuds from a stomping foot.  Then,
as I passed the kitchen doorway and the rumble of the dishwasher, it started
coming in clear.  “Daddy,
please
!”  Cheryl begged.  I was
close enough to peer through the crack in the door.  I could see her fists
clenched in frustration.  She was obviously screaming at her father, whom
I couldn’t see at first, but who then came whizzing into my field of vision. 
He put on the brakes just inches away from his daughter’s legs.

“Absolutely
not!
I forbid you to even think
about cavorting with that man-no…that spying
weasel
!”

“Daddy, don’t punish
Lewis and I for his father’s behavior.  It’s not fair.  Please, stop
this!”  Wilson’s eyes bulged out from his skull.

“Fair?”  He
said manically, with his head cocked to one side and an eerie smirk on his
face.  “Do you call being cheated out of my own money fair?  I sure
as hell don’t!”  He said, now screaming again.  “A man cheats your
father, your family and you want to marry his son?  You’ve got a snowman’s
chance in hell of pulling that
off, my dear!”

“But Daddy-”

“And one more
thing,” Wilson threw his chair into reverse.  He whizzed out of sight but
stopped off to the right, in front of his fireplace.  His shadow loomed
over his daughter and half the room in a kind of ghostly shroud.  I
watched and listened as the shadow of Wilson McCune lay down his decree. 
“If you bump into Lewis
Norville
on the street; if
you write him or call him or whisper his name in your sleep; if you so much as
glance in his general direction, you’re out and off!”  Cheryl drew her
hands to her face.  She looked terrified.  I didn’t blame her. 
Staring at her monstrous father in front of that roaring fire was something I’m
sure she’s still trying to forget to this day.  I would later go to bed
and thank God that I hadn’t seen it directly myself.

“You
wouldn’t…”  Tears beaded in the corners of her eyes.

“Wouldn’t I? 
Just think about all the money I’d be saving without having to pay for your
wardrobe and your hair appointments and your visits to the nail salons and
spas.  I’m sure your brothers would be very happy to take your share of my
empire off your hands.  As the oldest, you’d undoubtedly get the biggest
piece of the pie.  Richard, or maybe one of the others, could put it to
good use, I’m sure.  Donald doesn’t have the sense for large numbers, but
I’m sure he’d enjoy it just the same.”  The shadow was tapping the temple
of its head. Cheryl’s hand dropped to her side.

“Others?
  What others?”

“Well,
Maddie
, of course. 
Or Nona, or
Thomas, or any one of my faithful staff.”

“You’d give my share
to the help? 
The help!
”
  She looked
as though she was eating something slimy and repulsive.

“Every penny,” he
replied flatly.  He rolled forward and into view again, his shadow
shrinking back down to that of a man’s.  “I believe our discussion is
over.”  Cheryl ran to the right and I heard a door slam.  Wilson
whizzed to the left, hollered out to Thomas, and another door slammed to mimic
the first.

My heart was
racing.  It was like watching a play live on stage, except this play was
real and a hell of a lot juicier in terms of plot.  The highs, the lows; I
was feeling them all right along with the players.  I felt them in my
heart and my gut, and then I felt a large hand drop onto my shoulder.

“Good God!” 
Thomas stood in front of me, looming in the mixture of light and shadows. 
I craned my neck upwards to stare into his eyes.  “What the hell are you
doing, Lurch?”  Thomas lifted a silver tray into the light.  On it
rested a glass of water and a single pill.  It was tiny and brown, with
OXIZALE
engraved on it.

“And you sir?” 
He asked.  He bent forward and whispered “Eavesdropping runs in your
family, I see.”

“I’ll have you know
I was just coming to thank Mr. McCune for his hospitality when that little tiff
started,” I thumbed towards the door.  “And I’ll thank you very much to
loose
that condescending tone with me, Jeeves.”

“Meant nothing by
it,” he said with a monotone and a smirk.  He brushed past me and pushed
open the door.  Light flooded the hallway, forcing me to shield my
unadjusted eyes.  He suddenly turned to me. 
“A
warning though, Mr. Hunt.
  In this house, sticking your nose where
it doesn’t belong can only result in one thing…wishing you hadn’t.”

Thomas turned and
walked towards the door to the left, into McCune’s bedroom.  I turned on
my heels and headed back towards
Maddie’s
room,
muttering profanities the entire way.

“Oh big deal,”
Maddie
said.  “Wilson fights with at least two people
in this house every night, including myself.”  She was lying in bed, her
eyelids heavy.

“But
Maddie
, he actually threatened to-”

“Cut her out of the
will and kick her out
blah
blah
blah
.”  She looked awful.  “
It’s
how he keeps them here and under his thumb.  It’s
how he keeps us all here.  That man may be gruff on the outside, but he’d
whimper like a puppy locked in the bathroom if he were left alone for too
long.  He doesn’t scare me at all,” she finished with a yawn.  I
looked at the night table next to her bed and saw the bottle of pills Dr.
Witcham
had given her to help her sleep the next few
nights.  It wasn’t just food poisoning that had Dr.
Witcham
concerned, but
Maddie’s
blood pressure and the level
of stress everyone in this town knew she must be under.  She was sinking
fast.

“But
Maddie
, I-”

“
Reevie
,
go to bed.  There is school tomorrow and you’ll fail your
maff
quis
if you…” and she was
gone.  In her then present state,
Maddie
was as
useful as a solar powered flashlight.  I turned off her light and left the
room.

Richard came in to
say goodnight at about ten.  I tried to get to sleep and found it was
easier said than done.  I eventually dropped off around eleven to the
sound of the rain against my window.  I didn’t stay asleep long though.

A
woman’s voice.
  It was very
faint and unrecognizable, but its owner was obviously in the midst of an
altercation.  Then the voice stopped, a door faintly closed, and someone
was walking around.  Silence came over the house again, but only
temporarily.  Someone started clambering around in the kitchen, sorting
through noisy utensils.  I got up to confront my noisy nighttime
nemesis.  Before I shut the door to my room, I turned and glanced at the
clock next to my bed, and the red numbers 12:32 pierced the darkness.

I had assumed the
woman who was arguing was the same person who was then fumbling through the
kitchen.  At first, I thought it was Nona since she was probably the only
person in the entire house who knew her way around her kitchen.  During my
last visit, I stepped away from the dinner table for a clean fork.  By the
time I found it and returned everyone else was already finishing dessert.

I went into the
dining room and peered into the light shed from the kitchen through the serving
window.  The womanly figure was frantically opening cabinets and
drawers.  She, however, was far too slender and delicate to be that cow
Nona.  As the woman stepped to the right towards the fridge, I saw a
plate, a loaf of bread and a butter knife sitting on the countertop.  As I
moved forward towards the doorway, the woman brought a jar of jelly out of the
fridge.  The lid of the jar was slightly off, and a thin line of the
strawberry jelly ran down the back of
the her
right
hand.  The veil of sleepiness finally began to lift, and I realized I was
watching Cheryl McCune make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.