fact, if ya want, we can leave this whole thing till tomorrow.”
“I’d rather not,” Caroline said. “Hopefully, no one will be using the stairs after tonight.”
Banning looked anxiously into the young woman’s eyes.
“I’d really like to close this up as soon as Mr. Porterhouse and Mr. Pratt are finished,” Caroline said. “Would you mind waiting just a little longer?”
Banning’s eyes shifted to the front door. “It’s gettin’ kinda late. And how d’ya know they won’t find somethin’ behind that door what needs to be hauled up. Like a sailor’s chest or an old organ.” He looked at her and grinned nervously. “The playing kind, I mean.”
“I know,” she smiled.
“I’m not equipped t’do that.”
“I appreciate your patience, Mr. Banning, and I’ll be happy to pay you any overtime—”
“It ain’t the money, Dr. Cooke. My house an’ my truck’re paid for. But it’s like I been tellin’ ya. I know you love this place an’ all but some of us feel—well, we feel different about it, is all.”
“Tell me, Mr. Banning,” Caroline said. “What is it exactly that you’re worried about? My great-aunt’s garlic? The crosses?”
“That’s part of it.”
“But there are rational explanations for those things. Maybe she used them for inspiration. Maybe they helped her understand her characters better.”
“Some people believe she understood ’em too well,” Banning said. “Some people believe that she had some kinda connection with dead things.”
“Connection?”
“Yeah. You know.”
“I’m sorry but I don’t.”
Banning rolled his large eyes. It was easy to see the boy in the man just then. “Some people believe that your great-aunt once had run-ins with the dead. The living dead. That they once lived on this island—in this castle.”
“I see.”
“Lookit, don’t take my word for it, Dr. Cooke. Check out the old newspaper accounts, summer of nineteen forty-eight. When those two shipping clerks, Chick Young and Wilbur Grey, came back to the mainland after their night here, they swore to anyone who would listen, swore to God Almighty Himself, that this was an island of monsters. They said they’d fought with Count Dracula, the Frankenstein Monster, and the Wolf Man.”
“It sounds as if those men were agitated,” Caroline said.
“Folks say they was crazy.”
“I’ll bet,” Caroline said. “And stress can produce a particular mind-set. It can transform trees into claws, shadows into cloaks, or men into monsters. Mr. Pratt told me that you had a serial killer in LaMirada at about the same time and that some people were convinced he was a monster too.”
“The Beast of LaMirada was a monster—”
“Or maybe it was a wild man who only looked like a monster,” Caroline replied evenly. “And maybe those two shipping clerks thought they encountered a Wolf Man and Count Dracula.”
“Or maybe they really did,” Banning said. He was growing visibly upset. “Why is everyone so goldarn sure about these things? I see it on TV all the time, on these investigation shows! They say yeah, there may be a Bigfoot or an Abominable Snowman. Absolutely, there could be a Loch Ness Monster. Okay, there might be flyin’ saucers with Pillsbury Doughboy people inside.”
“They’ll say anything to get ratings.”
“But I seen the photographs! They have experts on who say they aren’t fakes! So who’s to say hell no, there ain’t no Yeti or space aliens? Who’s to say there ain’t no such thing as a vampire named Count Dracula or a werewolf called the Beast of LaMirada or an eight-foot-tall monster made from dead bodies?”
Caroline was sorry she’d started this. She took one of Banning’s hands between hers but he snatched it back.
“Don’t treat me like I’m nuts myself,” the mason huffed.
“Mr. Banning, calm down,” Caroline said. “I’m very sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“People ain’t as smart as they think, Dr. Cooke.
“I’d rather not,” Caroline said. “Hopefully, no one will be using the stairs after tonight.”
Banning looked anxiously into the young woman’s eyes.
“I’d really like to close this up as soon as Mr. Porterhouse and Mr. Pratt are finished,” Caroline said. “Would you mind waiting just a little longer?”
Banning’s eyes shifted to the front door. “It’s gettin’ kinda late. And how d’ya know they won’t find somethin’ behind that door what needs to be hauled up. Like a sailor’s chest or an old organ.” He looked at her and grinned nervously. “The playing kind, I mean.”
“I know,” she smiled.
“I’m not equipped t’do that.”
“I appreciate your patience, Mr. Banning, and I’ll be happy to pay you any overtime—”
“It ain’t the money, Dr. Cooke. My house an’ my truck’re paid for. But it’s like I been tellin’ ya. I know you love this place an’ all but some of us feel—well, we feel different about it, is all.”
“Tell me, Mr. Banning,” Caroline said. “What is it exactly that you’re worried about? My great-aunt’s garlic? The crosses?”
“That’s part of it.”
“But there are rational explanations for those things. Maybe she used them for inspiration. Maybe they helped her understand her characters better.”
“Some people believe she understood ’em too well,” Banning said. “Some people believe that she had some kinda connection with dead things.”
“Connection?”
“Yeah. You know.”
“I’m sorry but I don’t.”
Banning rolled his large eyes. It was easy to see the boy in the man just then. “Some people believe that your great-aunt once had run-ins with the dead. The living dead. That they once lived on this island—in this castle.”
“I see.”
“Lookit, don’t take my word for it, Dr. Cooke. Check out the old newspaper accounts, summer of nineteen forty-eight. When those two shipping clerks, Chick Young and Wilbur Grey, came back to the mainland after their night here, they swore to anyone who would listen, swore to God Almighty Himself, that this was an island of monsters. They said they’d fought with Count Dracula, the Frankenstein Monster, and the Wolf Man.”
“It sounds as if those men were agitated,” Caroline said.
“Folks say they was crazy.”
“I’ll bet,” Caroline said. “And stress can produce a particular mind-set. It can transform trees into claws, shadows into cloaks, or men into monsters. Mr. Pratt told me that you had a serial killer in LaMirada at about the same time and that some people were convinced he was a monster too.”
“The Beast of LaMirada was a monster—”
“Or maybe it was a wild man who only looked like a monster,” Caroline replied evenly. “And maybe those two shipping clerks thought they encountered a Wolf Man and Count Dracula.”
“Or maybe they really did,” Banning said. He was growing visibly upset. “Why is everyone so goldarn sure about these things? I see it on TV all the time, on these investigation shows! They say yeah, there may be a Bigfoot or an Abominable Snowman. Absolutely, there could be a Loch Ness Monster. Okay, there might be flyin’ saucers with Pillsbury Doughboy people inside.”
“They’ll say anything to get ratings.”
“But I seen the photographs! They have experts on who say they aren’t fakes! So who’s to say hell no, there ain’t no Yeti or space aliens? Who’s to say there ain’t no such thing as a vampire named Count Dracula or a werewolf called the Beast of LaMirada or an eight-foot-tall monster made from dead bodies?”
Caroline was sorry she’d started this. She took one of Banning’s hands between hers but he snatched it back.
“Don’t treat me like I’m nuts myself,” the mason huffed.
“Mr. Banning, calm down,” Caroline said. “I’m very sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“People ain’t as smart as they think, Dr. Cooke.
Similar Books
