Winds of terror (17 page)

Melanie appeared in the doorway, having left Cale behind to sit beside his grandmother. Curiosity welled up in her, overriding her terror.

She gasped as her eyes went to the corpse lying on the bed. It was encrusted with green and black mold. The grotesque form looked almost human; there had not been much decomposition, but, even so, the features were not recognizable. Feeling faint, Melanie leaned against the doorframe to keep from falling, while her knees threatened to buckle beneath her.

Dr. Ambrose examined the corpse, then turned to Sheriff Dixon, who looked as though he were about to become sick himself. His face had blanched, and his eyes were wide with shock. He had seen a lot of gruesome sights in the line of duty, but never anything like this!

"Sheriff, I don't think we need to call in the state lab boys," Dr. Ambrose said, as he pulled the spread from the foot of the bed and covered the body. "I'd like to keep the gossip down as much as possible for the sake of the family."

"It's been here all along?" The sheriff gulped, as he stared at the covered mound on the bed. "All these years, she's kept that body here? In this room?"

"Hardly," the doctor said with a shake of the head. 127

"There would be a state of deterioration much further advanced than what we saw. Air causes deterioration, and if this corpse had been here in this room all these years, it would be reduced to bones by now. Furthermore, those remaining in the house after Bartley Beech-er's death would have noticed an odor, don't you think?"

Sheriff Dixon thought a moment, then nodded. "SureI" He snapped his fingers, as though everything was suddenly quite clear to him. *They would have smelled it for sure. The body has just been moved here then. How long would you say it's been here?"

"I'm not sure. Decomposition will be rapid now that it's out of the coffin and the mausoleum. It's still in pretty good shape, so it can't have been here over a few days at the most."

Mark had ^een standing in the background listening in silence, but now he spoke, his voice low and determined. "I tell you my aunt is insane. I intend to go to the circuit judge in the morning and ask that papers immediately be drawn up declaring her mentally incompetent."

Dr. Ambrose whirled about, his face filled with rage. "You do, and I'll countersign papers that, as her personal physician, I fimd her mentally fit!"

The two men glared at each other, and then Dr. Ambrose said to the sheriff, "Get someone to help you move this body back to the mausoleum at once, all right?"

The sheriff nodded, and the doctor moved out of the room and back to the bedside of Addie Beecher.

Melanie was close on his heels. "Do you think she's going to be all right?" she asked anxiously. "Should she be in the hospital. Doctor?"

He took Addie's pulse, then looked at the old woman thoughtfully. "Addie Beecher has more strength than we give her credit for. She's a fighter. But if we put her in the hospital, I'm afraid she would give up. We'll do the best we can with her here. I'll keep her heavily sedated, and you just see that she gets plenty of rest and does not get upset again. I don't want anyone to be with her except you, is that clear?" He looked at Melanie with penetrating eyes, as though he were trying to see into her mind to make sure that she understood him completely.

Melanie nodded briskly. "Yes, whatever you say. She 128

wants to see her lawyer in the morning, though. She's pretty firm about that."

"And you want to make sure she does that, don't you, cousin, dear?" Mark spoke from the doorway, where he had been watching and listening. "Especially since she's going to name you heir to her estate!"

Dr. Ambrose looked at Mark as though the younger man were something very distasteful, then turned his gaze on Melanie. "If she awakens and wants to see her lawyer, then it's all right with me. She's going to assume that her husband's body was moved as an evil prank, and she's going to assume that Mark did it. Once she has time to look at it like that, I think her anger and indignation will give her stamina we don't realize she has!"

"Let her change her will," Mark said. "It won't hold up in court. If I have my way, she'll die in a mental hospital!"

Dr. Ambrose closed his black leather bag, then straightened and shook his head. "You know, Mark, unlike your aunt I don't believe in ghosts and evil spirits and possession, but you do get more and more like your twin brother every day. Maybe he does have some sort of hold on you. You're about as unpleasant to be around as he was.'*

Mark clenched his fists. **How dare you speak of my brother that way?" he screamed.

Addie moaned, arid Dr. Ambrose shoved Mark out of the room and closed the door behind them. A shroud of silence fell over the room for a few moments. Then Cale entered and rolled his chair over to where Melanie had taken a chair beside her aunt's bed. He reached to take her hand in his, but she pulled it away and turned her face from his.

"Melanie, what is it?" He looked at the young girl whom he felt sure he loved. Her coldness of the past few days was a puzzle to him. They had seemed so close that day they had their picnic together and professed their feelings for each other.

Melanie hung her head, feeling very, very tired. "I don't want to talk, Cale, to you or anyone else. So much has happened that I don't understand ..."

He smiled and caressed her shoulder. She stiffened beneath his touch.

"Nothing has happened to the way I feel about you, 129

Melanie, and I hope nothing will happen to the way you were feeling about me when all this started."

Closing her eyes, she thought of the way he had urged her to leave so many times. She thought of the footsteps earlier that night, his mysteriously locked door, and most important of all, the red clay she had seen on his shoes! Something about Cale frightened her now, and she had to have time to sort out her feelings.

"Do you mind?" she said wearily. "It's almost morning, and I haven't had any sleep. I'd like to stretch out for a few hours."

Silently, he wheeled his chair to the door, and made his exit. He didn't understand Melanie. He just hoped and prayed that she would leave soon, because he cared too deeply for her to see her get hurt.

And someone was going to get hurt, he felt sure of it

Chapter 17

Addie awoke Melanie by calling her name, and the young woman was still groggy as she tried to answer the worried questions that her aunt was firing at her.

"It was Mark, wasn't it? I know it was! He moved Bart-ley's body to make it look like I did it, that I was crazy. Oh, God, how I hate that boy! I want him off my property today, do you hear me? Now I want you to get the sheriff back out here this morning so I can talk to him. And I want to see my lawyer first thing."

"Yes, Aunt Addie," Melanie said as she struggled to get up off the floor where she had spread a blanket beside the bed. "First, you're going to take a sedative that Dr. Ambrose left, and I want you to eat something. I know it's been a horrible experience for you."

"Thanks to your snooping," Addie snapped, flinging back the covers and pulling herself up to a sitting position. Melanie was staring at her. "And don't look at me like that. I'm not dead yet. I won't lie down and die till I find out exactly what's been going on in this house. You can be sure of that! Todd Beecher's evil spirit isn't going to take me to my grave—not if I can help it!"

Melanie knew that she would never cease to be amazed at the old woman's strength and ability to meet catastrophes that would surely fell others of her age. She freshened the bed, helped Addie with her bath, and then prepared a breakfast tray. By the time she had finished with everything, Mr. Garrett and his secretary had arrived. Melanie ushered them into Addie's room, then left them alone.

She found Cale in the kitchen eating breakfast 131

"When will they move the body?" she wanted to know, her hands trembling as she poured herself a cup of coflfee.

Cale swallowed the mouthful of cereal he was chewing, sipped some coffee, then said casually, '*0h, they moved the body last night after you fell asleep, I guess. The sheriff went and woke'up a couple of the field hands. Said he wanted to take care of it as quickly as possible. He checked the room out, then locked it up again. Grandmother would want it locked once more, he felt sure."

Melanie nodded, relieved that the body was back where it belonged.

"Why did you do it, Melanie?"

She blinked at him. "Why did I do what?"

"Why did you unlock the room and go in during the night?" he asked accusingly.

"Butch had fits to get in that room," she said defiantly, "and he was murdered. And once or twice, I heard noises from that room. Then, last night, I heard footsteps, and someone tried to get in my room. Whoever it was spoke through the door and said I'd be killed if I didn't leave this place." She trembled as she thought of the horrible night she had just been through.

Cale shrugged and poured himself another cup of coffee. "It was probably Mark, trying to scare you."

"No, I looked in on Mark." Her voice was cold, precise. "He was sound asleep. I was going to look in on you, but your door was locked. I thought that was strange."

He turned his face away, so she could not see his expression. "Well, with so many weird things going on, I figured maybe I'd better lock my door from now on. I can't exactly run from a ghost, you know." He laughed, but the attempt at humor fell flat.

Melanie just sipped her coffee and stared at him coldly over the rim of the cup. There was a tense silence, and then Melanie asked, "Where is Mark this morning?"

Cale smiled. "I was saving that for last. He's gone."

"Gone?" Her cup clattered noisily to the saucer.

"Yep," he said, sounding quite happy about it. "I heard Mm up and moving about early this morning, and I peeked out of my room to see him walking out with a couple of suitcases. I guess he knows when he's licked. A suit to declare Grandmother mentally incompetent wouldn't get to first base with Dr. Ambrose testifying that she's perfectly sane and competent. And I guess he knew he'd get

kicked out for sure after that trick he pulled last night fell through."

Melanie nodded. "It's just as well. It saved us from the unpleasant experience of seeing Sheriff Dixon throw him off the plantation."

"Well, Mark's used to being the goat for his brother's devilish deeds." He finished his coffee, then rolled himself in the direction of the elevator.

Melanie stared at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He looked at her, smiling a sad little smile, and said, "I don't think Mark moved my grandfather's body. I think Todd did it. I think the place is haunted, and I wish to God you'd realize that and get out before someone gets killed around here."

He wheeled himself into the elevator, then closed the door, and pushed a button, and in a few seconds was out of sight.

Melanie shivered. She didn't believe in ghostsi She had to keep telling herself that.

Towards noon, Mr. Garrett came downstairs with his secretary and said, "I have to be in court this afternoon, Melanie. I can't bring your aunt's new will back to be executed until tomorrow morning. I'm sorry, but there's just no way. She has destroyed her old one, though, so should she die today, Mark would not stand to inherit anything. Under the law, Cale would be rightful heir. Maybe if you tell Mark that, he will leave peacefully and avoid having to be thrown off the plantation."

Melanie informed him that Mark had already gone.

'That will ease her mind," the lawyer said, his own voice filled with relief. "She's positive the boy is possessed, and from what she tells me about the things that have been going on around here, it makes you wonder, doesn't it?"

Melanie nodded, then led the lawyer and his secretary to the door and thanked them for coming.

She spent the afternoon reading to her aunt, who seemed ecstatic over Mark's disappearance. It still seemed sad to Melanie to see how easily a family can break up. Mark had lived on the plantation his whole life: he had been born there, he had grown up there, and now he was gone for good and no one seemed to care. Yes, she reflected, it was sad—very sad, indeed.

Chapter 18

Dr. Ambrose returned to Beecher House shortly after dinnertime. He found Addie resting comfortably and learned from Melanie that her aunt had relaxed now that Mark had left the plantation for good.

"I think we had a narrow escape this time. Her heartbeat is still a bit erratic," he told her after examining Addie. "She must continue to be kept quiet and get a lot of rest. Her heart could go at any time after an experience such as the one she had last night."

Melanie assured the doctor that she would keep an eye on Addie, and then led him to the door. She went to the kitchen, and discovered that Cale had still not come down for dinner. She had left the table set, having prepared creamed chicken and rice, one of his favorite dishes. Not that she had gone to the trouble for him; it was also one of her aunt's preferred meals.

She read to Addie imtil the old woman fell asleep, and then she tucked the covers around her and tiptoed out. The thought of sleeping on the floor beside her aunt's bed was not appealing; she still felt cramped from the few hours she had spent there during the wee hours of the morning.

Returning to the kitchen, she felt annoyed that Cale's food was still imtouched. As she straightened up, Melanie realized just how tired she really was. The night before had been terribly taxing, mentally and physically. She went to her room to get her nightgown, but the bed looked so inviting that she gave into temptation and stretched out across it, promising herself she'd rest only a few moments before returning to her aunt's room.

A loud crash awakened Melanie. Shaking her head groggily, she looked about her as a streak of lightning illuminated the room. All lights were out. Had she turned them out? In her weariness she did not remember.

Another flash, followed by a giant roll of thunder that seemed to clutch the whole house in its grasp and give it a terrifying shake. Another crackle! The roar of thunder, blasting ominously through the sky. It was an early-summer storm, and Melanie trembled, remembering how ugly and frightening such tempests could be.