The Pastor’s Daughter: Episode XXII

I drove down to Carroll Island Road via Eastern Avenue. I passed the Walmart parking lot and continued driving until I could only see few houses. The area look like country side and on both sides of the roads were woods. I continued driving until I got to an old train track. From there I could see the reflection of the Back River Neck water body. On my left side, a few feet from the river was a lonely, but big  compound  with a fence and iron gates. I parked my in a wooded space beside the train track, making sure it will not be easily noticed by anybody.

I walked up the quiet and deserted road until I came to the double wrought-iron gates, set in a high wall that surrounded the area in which  the house stood. By now it was raining hard. I pushed open one of the gates, and moved into the dark driveway, screened by Red Maple trees and flowering shrubs.

Moving silently, I walked up the drive, being careful enough to hunch my shoulders against the rain. I walked for about fifty yards of the driveway and came to a bend. Around the bend I could see the  house. It was a small, two-story building and from where I stood I could see that this house looks nice and traditional, with stucco walls and big windows. I couldn’t believe that we have this type of house in Middle River!

I noticed that there was a light on in one of the lower windows. Other than that, the rest of the house was in darkness. There was no place I could hide because the neatly kept lawns that surrounded the house offered no cover. In spite of that, I moved around its hedge, making sure to keep close to the shrubs until I was facing the window of the lighted room. The room was only about thirty yards from where I stood. Since the curtain hasn’t been drawn, I decided that I could look into the room. That would be an audacious move, but I did it anyway. I could see that the furnishing was modern, and that the room was large. I saw a girl standing by a table. She was occupied with looking through a black evening bag.

I assumed she was Grace Roselli and looked closely at her. She was quite something to see. She was a white of course, and could be around twenty-five years. She was tall, and her almost blonde hair reached to her shoulders. She was wearing a light-green evening dress that fitted her like a second skin.

After she had rearranged her bag, she picked up a white mink coat and slung it carelessly over her shoulders. She paused to light a cigarette, and then crossed the room, turned off the lights and left me looking at an expanse of black glass that reflected the swiftly moving rain clouds and Red Maple trees.

I waited.

I saw the front door open and she came out, after about a minute or so. She was sheltering under a large umbrella. She then ran down the path to the garage. A light sprang up as she pushed open the double doors. I could see a dark-blue Bentley in the garage. She got into the car, leaving her umbrella against the wall. I heard the engine start up.

She drove out, passing within about eleven yards of where I was crouching. The headlights of her Bentley made a white glare of rain, grass, Red Maple trees and shrubs.

I remained where I was hiding, listening hard. I heard the car stop at the end of the drive. There was a long pause as, I assumed, she opened the gates. Then I heard the sound of the car door slamming and the sound of the engine accelerating made me to conclude that she had gone.

I remained motionless where I was for several minutes while I stared at the dark house. No light showed, so I decided that it was safe to explore. If I had known what would eventually happen from my adventure, I would have stayed at home and made novenas and hope for the best. Anyway, I turned up my collar against the rain and walked around the house. All the rooms were dark. I found a window unlatched on the ground and eased it open. I then took out an LED flashlight I had brought with me and inspected a small but luxury kitchen beyond. Sliding over the double sink, I dropped noiselessly on to the tiled floor. I then proceeded to close the window, after which I made my way silently out of the kitchen. Following a dark passage, I found myself inside a hall.

I followed a curved stairway that led to the upper rooms. On getting upstairs, I carefully inspected the four doors that faced me.

I chose to open the door that lay to the far right. When I opened the door and looked in, I concluded that this should be Grace’s room. There was a large bed with a yellow cover. The walls were of quilted grey satin and the furniture looks good. The room has a red rug. Indeed, it was quite a room.

What I saw in the room didn’t really interest me. There was a jewel box on the dresser. If I were a burglar, the contents of the jewel box would have made my mouth water. Instead, it left me cold. However, it did tell me that indeed either this girl had plenty of money to burn or that she had a host of loyal admirers who were showering these trinkets on her.

It was only when I reached the last room that I found what I had vaguely wondered I might find. There were two suitcases by the wall. One of them lay on its side, open. In it I saw three of my Calvin Klein suits, two bottles of my favorite brand of vodka and my black cigarette case. I stood there for a long moment staring at the suitcases, the beam of my LED flashlight unsteady. Then, very gently and cautiously, I knelt down and opened the second suitcase. That too was full of my stuffs. I saw all the things that were stolen from my apartment: I mean all of them except Brittany’s camera.

As I was trying to figure out what to do about my discovery, I heard a sound downstairs that made me to almost jump out of my skin. It was the kind of sound a hunter in the wilds of a Brazilian jungle who has been stalking some comparatively harmless animal hears that warns him a rogue Green Anaconda has arrived on the scene.

The sound in this still, dark house was of the violence of an earthquake. I heard another noise that sounded like a crash. Someone, perhaps an intruder, had unlocked the front door and flung it open so that the door smashed against the wall. Then a man’s voice shouted “GRACE!”

The sound of this man’s voice literary froze me, making the hairs on the nape of my neck stand up. The man slammed the front door shut, making my heart skip a beat. Then, the horrible, coarse voice yelled again: “GRACE!”

I immediately recognized that voice. I heard it on the telephone. Mac had arrived!

Moving as careful and as silently as I can, I slid out of the bedroom. I could see that there was now lights in the hall. Moving to the banister head, I cautiously looked over. Although there were lights now on in the lounge, I couldn’t see anyone.

Then, the coarse voice started to sing.

That voice! Apart from the voice I heard on the telephone, I’m very sure I have heard that voice somewhere before. Though the presence of this man made me to sweat, and though his voice sounded very familiar, I told myself that so long as he was here, I wasn’t taking any chances of showing myself. But then there was a sudden silence. The silence made me feel as scared as the noise.

I remained in the shadows, about a foot away from the banisters. I was convinced that he will not see me if I remained there. Then I saw a figure of a man standing in the lighted doorway of the lounge.

I moved back into the deeper shadows. It was the same broad-shouldered man I had seen creeping around in the vacation house in Atlantic City. I was sure of it! The silence in the house was so thick I could feel it. Meanwhile, the man remained motionless, his head cocked on one side as if he were listening. My heart was slamming against my ribs as I waited, holding my breath.

The man moved slowly into the middle of the hall. Then he stopped. I could see his hands on his hips, his long legs apart, facing the stairs. The light from the overhead lamp fell fully on him. Now I could see him very well. I couldn’t believe my eyes! I was speechless! Councilman McCutchen Smith of all people!

By now I was sure he could see me for he stared up at the exact spot where I was standing. Then he suddenly bawled, “Listen pally. I’m not gonna play this game with you. You either come down here or I will come up and push you down!”

END OF EPISODE XXII

P.S. Episode Twenty-Three  will be published here next Monday.