Night of the Pentagram Page 4

  “You will hardly know they are here. Mr. Hargrove is correct; you may do as you wish. At the doctor’s discretion you may even leave the property for short excursions to the beach or along the trails into the mountains.”

  “That’s rather big of Abernathy, isn’t it, treating us like grown ups?”

  “Dr. Abernathy’s methods are unorthodox,” said Mrs. Valdez.

  “So I’ve been told,” Bryce said.

  As she led them around the back of the courtyard, she pointed to a railed stairway that led along the side of the security house. “To the tennis courts.”

  They entered the north wing of the house and Elizabeth was once again struck by how cool and dim it was inside. Mrs. Valdez explained that the suite of rooms she shared with her grandson were located in this wing and also pointed out Dr. Abernathy’s study where he conducted therapy sessions. Bryce paused and pressed his ear against the door, a melodramatic expression on his face as if he had overheard some shocking revelation from the other side. Elizabeth laughed and pulled him away by the hand.

  As they approached the front of the house the hall opened into another large room, one that appeared to be the mirror twin of the one where Elizabeth and Bryce had signed their registration forms. One wall and part of another were filled floor to ceiling with bookcases, magazines were stacked on several tables interspersed among comfortable and inviting chairs and couches, none of which appeared to be any newer than the 1930s. A young woman with long blond hair looked up from a jumbled pile of books and papers where she sat at a large table.

  “Drawing Room,” Mrs. Valdez announced. She indicated the blond woman with a curt nod of her head. “Miss Moon.”

  Bryce introduced himself and Elizabeth.

  “I’m Dakota Moon,” the blond girl said. With a name like that Elizabeth was certain she would have remembered her but couldn’t place her as someone on the Hollywood A-list. She was pretty enough to be an actress, her long blond hair was ironing board-straight and her eyes were lidded with dramatic false eyelashes as large as butterfly wings. She was dressed in a black turtleneck and tight black pants and wore a silver ankh on a chain around her neck.

  “Elizabeth York!” she said. “Far out. I saw you in Hamlet. Wasn’t Brando just dreamy?”

  “He’s a terrific actor. I was honored to be able to work with someone of his caliper. Are you in show business?” Elizabeth asked.

  Elizabeth’s eyes couldn’t help but be drawn to the strange diagrams on the papers spread out on the table in front of Dakota. It seemed to be a chart of some sort, a wheel shaped with a number of unusual symbols with accompanying hand written notes placed strategically around the wheel.

  “In a manner of speaking. I have a weekly spot on a local news channel in San Francisco called Star Struck. Other than that I write the daily horoscopes for the Chronicle, putter around my bookstore, and give readings to tourists who come to stare at the hippies.”

  Bryce picked up one of the charts. “You’re an astrologer?”

  “And you’re a Leo,” said Dakota. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

  “On the money,” said Bryce.

  Dakota turned her gaze on Elizabeth. “And you are a Gemini.”

  “Yes, how did you know just by looking at me?”

  “Appearance, body language, that sort of thing. I’ve been into astrology since I was a little girl. My grandma turned me on to it although I didn’t start to study seriously until I was a teenager.”

  “What does all this mean?” Bryce asked, examining the chart.

  “It’s a birth chart,” said Dakota and plucked the chart out of his hands and turned it face down on the table. “And just like psychotherapy it’s confidential information. But if you need a consultation while you’re here, you know where to find me. I’ll even give you a discount.”

  “That’s mighty big of you,” said Bryce.

  “So many fascinating people here,” Elizabeth said.

  “What do you think of Mr. Spaceman?”

  “Who?”

  “That blonde hunk of stuff out by the pool.”

  Elizabeth laughed. “At first I thought he was Martin Milner.”

  “Dead ringer, huh?”

  Elizabeth agreed. “Why do you call him Mr. Spaceman?”

  “Just a little pet name I have for him. That’s Chet Hargrove. He’s an astronaut. Or at least he was an astronaut. If he’s in here I don’t think he’ll be flying to the moon any time soon. Not on a rocket ship, anyway. He may be cute but he’s a real stuffed shirt. You’d never know it to look at him.” Dakota wiggled her ring finger at Elizabeth. “But hands off, he’s married.”

  “So am I,” Elizabeth said and then felt a sudden rush of warmth to her face. In her mind she was still married, though sooner or later she supposed she would find the courage to move on and perhaps find another man to love and call her own.

  “So, Mrs. Valdez, will Elizabeth be in the room next to mine?” Dakota asked.

  “Dr. Abernathy wishes Miss York to be in the room next to Mrs. Monaghan.”

  Dakota shrugged. “Somebody needs to keep an eye on her.”

  “What’s her story?” Elizabeth asked.

  Dakota sat down, ready to turn her attention back to her charts and astrology books. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

  Bryce looked to Mrs. Valdez. “Shall we?” and allowed the housekeeper to lead the way out of the room.

  In the hall, Bryce said, “So what’s your sign, Mrs. Valdez?”

  Mrs. Valdez paused at the foot of the stairs and turned to face Bryce. She looked at him with disapproval and said, “I do not believe in astrology. It is the work of the Devil.” She turned away abruptly and led the way up the staircase. Bryce and Elizabeth exchanged glances. Bryce mouthed the word “weird.”

  On the second floor of the house, Mrs. Valdez pointed out that the north and south wings were designated as the men’s and the women’s wings respectively. She showed Bryce to his room. “If you will permit me the keys to your car I will have Balthazar bring up your luggage.”

  Bryce handed over the keys. “Tell him to bring it back in one piece.” Elizabeth liked Bryce’s easy sense of humor but could tell by Mrs. Valdez stone faced resistance that she was un-amused.

  Elizabeth followed Mrs. Valdez through the central hall and then into the south wing of the house. She opened a door into a spacious bedroom. True to her word, Mrs. Valdez’s grandson had already brought up her luggage and arranged it neatly beside an old steamer trunk at the foot of the bed. Even the bed was an antique, an old four poster with a faded white ruffled canopy around the top. “This is lovely,” Elizabeth said as she took in the lavish furnishings of the room. The curtains were drawn back from the window on the opposite wall offering a spectacular view of the cliffs and ocean.

  Mrs. Valdez indicated the bathroom. “There is a door on the other side. Each of the rooms share a common bath. The guest on the other side is Mrs. Monaghan. You will find there are no locks on the bedroom doors in this house. A precautionary measure. Dr. Abernathy is certain you will understand.” Elizabeth supposed she saw the reasoning but found it a bit disconcerting. Perhaps that was one reason why the wings were separated by gender. It didn’t matter. The place truly was turning out to be like an extended stay hotel. Any anxiety Elizabeth had before coming to the Abernathy Clinic was soon expelled during the brief tour of the house.

  Mrs. Valdez turned to go but paused by the door to Elizabeth’s room. “Dr. Abernathy has requested you be introduced as soon as possible to Mrs. Monaghan.”

  “Oh?”

  “Mrs. Monaghan will be in her room. She prefers to keep to herself. Dr. Abernathy indicates this is not good for her. He wishes that you make her acquaintance. Become friends. Come.”

  Puzzled, Elizabeth followed Mrs. Valdez into the hall where the housekeeper knocked on the door to the room adjacent to Elizabeth’s. There was no response. Mrs. Valdez knocked again and said in a firm voice, “Mrs. Monaghan, it is Mrs. Valde
z. I am coming in,” and opened the door.

  Elizabeth followed Mrs. Valdez into the room. The size and furnishings of the room were identical to Elizabeth’s room. On the opposite side, a woman sat by the window gazing out at the sea.

  “Mrs. Monaghan, we have a new guest. This is Miss York. She will be in the room next to yours.”

  Mrs. Monaghan did not respond. Mrs. Valdez gave a jerk of her head, indicating to Elizabeth that she should approach the woman sitting by the window.

  Elizabeth was flustered but did as she was told. “Mrs. Monaghan, I’m Elizabeth York. I’m your new neighbor.”

  Mrs. Monaghan appeared to be in her early forties. Though her dyed blonde hair was teased and sprayed precisely into place, Elizabeth could she that she was in need of a touch up at the temples. The woman’s navy blue dress looked conservative yet expensive. A simple string of pearls graced her neck. Elizabeth held out her hand to shake. Mrs. Monaghan looked at it and then turned her gaze back to the window.

  The awkward silence between them made Elizabeth uncomfortable. When Mrs. Monaghan spoke it startled Elizabeth.

  “Have the riots stopped?” Mrs. Monaghan’s voice was listless.

  Elizabeth was confused. “The riots?”

  “I see the smoke billowing from the cities everyday. I see the flames from my window at night.” Mrs. Monaghan’s words were precise and deliberate, exhibiting neither alarm nor concern. It was as if she merely relayed a set of facts to Elizabeth.

  Elizabeth shook her head. “No. There are no more riots. There haven’t been any riots in several months.”

  “I wish they would stop. I wish they would just take what they want and leave.”

  Elizabeth studied the anguish on the older woman’s face and felt a pang of sympathy for her. Meeting Mrs. Monaghan was a direct contrast to the charming people she had met downstairs. Perhaps the others hid their psychoses well. Mrs. Monaghan, it seemed, wore hers on her sleeve.

  Elizabeth looked at Mrs. Valdez, desperate for permission to leave the room. Mrs. Valdez nodded.

  “I’m sure we will become good friends, Mrs. Monaghan. I’ll be in the room next door if you need anything,” she said, immediately regretting having made such an offer.

  Mrs. Valdez escorted Elizabeth back to her room and told her that dinner would be served at six thirty. Elizabeth was free to do as she chose until then.

  “When will I meet Dr. Abernathy?”

  “Soon. The doctor is very eager to meet you.”

  Elizabeth closed the door to her room behind Mrs. Valdez with a relief. For the most part the other guests seemed, if not “nice”, then at least personable, with the exception of the strange woman in the room next door. Elizabeth was glad that she hadn’t met Mrs. Monaghan till last. She made a mental note to be sure to ask Dr. Abernathy to fill her in on Joan Monaghan.

  She looked out the window for a moment. The house was very near the edge of a cliff. She could see a part of the beach far below and the flow of white caps as they flowed endlessly from the sea to the shore.

  Looking about the room Elizabeth found a large chest of drawers and an antique wardrobe furnished with plenty of wooden hangers. She went to the end of the bed and lifted one of the American Tourister pieces onto the bed.

  Opening the suitcase, a puzzled look crossed her face. At first she thought there might have been a mix up. Yes, these were her clothes in the suitcase. But where did this slim black book come from? It sat neatly in the suitcase, partly obscured by the sleeve of a blouse. She reached into the suitcase to move the sleeve aside so that she could see the cover of the book.

  Her hand flew to her mouth to keep herself from crying out.

  On the cover of the black book was a livid red inverted pentagram, above which was the title of the book, The Rites of Satan.

  Chapter Three

  How in the world did this get in her suitcase? She looked around the room as if expecting to see a trickster ready to pop out of a corner. Smile – you’re on Candid Camera! If this was someone’s idea of a joke she wasn’t laughing. Her mouth twisted into a knot of anger. She stared at the book for a moment. The red pentagram leapt out at her from the black background of the cover. She didn’t want the vile thing in her suitcase. She picked up the book and flung it into a corner. She heard the book bounce off the wall and hit the floor. Her nails dug into the palms of her hands as she balled them into fists.

  She had been in this house no more than twenty minutes and already someone was playing tricks on her. She suspected it was Mrs. Abernathy’s grandson. What did she say his name was? Balthazar. It would have been easy for him to slip the book inside her suitcase when he brought the luggage up to her room. But why would he do it? She hadn’t even met the man.

  If Balthazar wasn’t the one who planted the book, then it must have been Mrs. Monaghan. She was an odd one with her cryptic comment about riots.

  Elizabeth busied herself putting clothes away into the dresser and the wardrobe. She shoved dresses and slacks angrily onto hangers, then forced herself to take deep breaths and start over, taking care that her clothes would not become wrinkled from her haste.

  Balthazar Valdez or Joan Monaghan, either one of them had time to slip the book into her suitcase before she arrived in her room. Elizabeth realized her mind was racing, darting from one possibility to another. Everyone knew about the Pentagram Murders. They had been all over TV and the newspapers for weeks. Anyone could have put the book in her suitcase, even someone she hadn’t met. But how would anyone at the clinic know that she would be coming here? The client list was supposed to be confidential. How would any of the other patients have known that Elizabeth York would be arriving that afternoon? It could have been a joke played on anyone, only the trickster got lucky that it held significance for her. Maybe it was a coincidence that this book wound up in her suitcase. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe. She had come here to relax and recuperate, and she refused to let this cruel joke get the better of her.

  Clothes put away, Elizabeth glanced around the room, wondering what to do next. Perhaps she would walk to the other wing to Bryce’s room and see what he was up to. Perhaps she would go downstairs and visit with Dakota Moon and learn more about astrology, or sit outside by the pool with Chet and Jewel. She saw no use in sitting in the room the rest of the afternoon. She wasn’t like Joan Monaghan after all.

  The book still lay on the floor in the corner, the symbol on the cover an evil red eye watching her every move. With a disgusted sound she went to the corner and snatched up the book, then went to the door of her room and, opening it, ran straight into someone standing on the other side. Elizabeth and Jewel St. John both jumped at once.

  “I’m so sorry,” Jewel said, sputtering with nervous laughter. “I was just about to knock. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

  “It’s nothing. I was deep in thought, that’s all. It’s so quiet here. I wasn’t expecting someone outside my door.”

  “Of course not. I thought you might get bored while you’re here so I brought you a copy of my book.” Jewel held out a hardcover copy of Goodbye, Babylon. “I see you have something to read already.”

  Elizabeth tried to hide the little black book behind her back. “This is nothing. It isn’t mine.”

  Jewel plucked the book from her hand and looked at the cover with an amused look on her face. “Witchcraft? I wouldn’t have guessed you are into the occult. You don’t strike me as the type.”

  “I’m not. This isn’t my book. Someone must have left it in the room before me. I was just going to give it to Mrs. Valdez in case someone comes back to look for it.”

  Jewel smirked at Elizabeth. She opened the copy of Goodbye, Babylon to the title page and thrust the book into Elizabeth’s hand. “I autographed it for you.”

  “Thank you, that’s very sweet of you.” Elizabeth turned to put the book on the dresser in her room.

  “Don’t forget your book,” Jewel said, handing her the little black book. “If you need anything, my room i
s right across the hall. Don’t hesitate to ask, even if it’s the middle of the night. I often don’t sleep well and would enjoy your company.”

  Elizabeth watched the older woman cross the hall and pause in the doorway on the other side. Jewel smiled at her, and Elizabeth felt the woman’s eyes dart up and down her body. Jewel’s mouth formed into a wet pout as she slowly closed the door. The encounter left Elizabeth feeling uncomfortable, dirty, in need of a shower. She didn’t care for the way Jewel had implied that the book on Satanism belonged to Elizabeth. Maybe Jewel was the one who had planted the book in her luggage, but then Elizabeth remembered that Jewel had been downstairs by the pool. She couldn’t have made it in and out of Elizabeth’s room in that short amount of time. She found the whole thing exasperating and headed downstairs with the book, hoping that she didn’t run into anyone else who would be curious about her choice of reading material before she had a chance to give it to Mrs. Valdez.