The Cellar by Richard Laymon Page B

the porch steps, leaning heavily on her cane. The strain of guiding tourists showed plainly in the weariness of her walk.
    At the ticket booth, she met Wick Hapson. They finished locking up. Then, taking her arm, Wick walked with her across Front Street. They went slowly up the dirt driveway and finally disappeared into the windowless house.
    Jud slid a cigar out of his shirt pocket. He torethe wrapper off, crumbled it into a tiny ball, and flipped it onto the car floor. Then he took a book of matches from the same pocket. He lit the cigar and waited.
    At four twenty-five, an old pickup truck backed out of the garage beside the Kutch house and came down the driveway trailing a cloud of dust. It turned onto Front Street and headed toward Jud. He pretended to study a road map. The truck slowed and swung across the street.
    Looking up from his map, Jud saw a man leap to the ground and hobble toward the fence. At the corner was a wide gate, chained shut and padlocked. The short, heavy man opened the lock, unwound the chain, and pushed the gate open. He drove through, then locked the gate again.
    Jud watched the truck move over tire tracks worn into the lawn, and park at the side of Beast House. The driver climbed out. He let down the truck’s tailgate and hopped onto its bed. Bending down, he slid a board ramp to the ground. Then he rolled a power lawnmower down the ramp.
    As soon as the man started the mower, Jud made a U-turn. He drove slowly, studying the left side of the road. Two miles south of Malcasa Point, he found a fire road leading into the forest. Nothing closer. It was no good. He used it to turn around, and headed back toward town.
    A hundred yards behind the spot where he’d parked to watch the house front, he pulled completely off the road. He got out of his car. Nothingwas in sight except the bending road and wooded slopes. He stood motionless for a few seconds, making sure.
    He heard the far-off motor of the lawnmower. He heard the wind stirring leaves high overhead, and the sounds of countless birds. A fly buzzed near his face. He waved it away and opened the trunk of his car.
    He put on the parka, first. Then he hooked a web belt around his waist under the coat, and made sure the holster flap was snapped shut. He lifted out a backpack, and put it on. He took out his rifle case. Then he shut the trunk.
    His trek through the pathless woods took him up the side of a hill, over rock clusters and fallen trees, and finally into the sunlight of a clearing at the top. He rubbed sweat out of his stinging eyes. He drank tepid water from his canteen. Then he started down the left side of the hill, seeking an outcropping of rock that he’d noticed that morning through the back windows of Beast House.
    He finally saw the rocks ahead. He made his way forward and easily climbed the outcropping, hopping from one rock to the next. When he peered over the top, a clear view of Beast House lay below him.
    The short, limping man, apparently finished with the front lawn, was now mowing the back. Jud watched him slowly walk the yard, disappear behind a weathered gazebo, and reappear.
    It would be a long wait.
    But he didn’t intend to do it this way, crouched and peeking over a ledge of rock. Too damned uncomfortable. He backed off. He found a level area between a pair of midget pines several feet from the top. There he set down his rifle case. He shrugged the pack off his shoulders and propped it against one of the pines. Then he removed his coat. The breeze cooled his sweaty shirt. He took the shirt off, used it to wipe his face, and spread it out on a rock to let the sun dry it.
    Next, he opened his pack. He pulled out his binoculars case, and a sandwich from a paper bag. Donna had made the sandwich for him earlier in the afternoon.
    They’d returned to the Welcome Inn after the scene with Larry at the beach. Donna and Sandy had changed out of their swimsuits, and Larry had wandered off, presumably to have a drink in the