“All right.”
“Tell me, Judge, what possessed you to come knocking at my door?”
“I heard the scream.”
“Did you realize it was inspired by a nightmare?”
“No.”
“Perhaps I was being murdered.”
“That occurred to me.”
“But you came, nonetheless. And unarmed. You must be a fearless man, Judge.”
“Hardly.”
“Or perhaps you’ve known such fear that the possibility of being confronted by a mere murderer seemed trifling.”
Jud laughed. “Sure.”
“Nonetheless, I’m certainly glad you came. For terrors of the night, there’s no antidote like a friendly face.”
“Do you have your terrors often?”
“Every night for the past three weeks. Not quite three weeks—that would be twenty-one nights, and I’ve only had the nightmares for the past nineteen. Only! I must tell you, it seems like years.”
“I know.”
“Sometimes, I wonder if there ever was a time before the nightmares. Of course, there was. I’m not loony, you realize, just upset. Nervous, very very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why will you say that I am mad?”
“I didn’t.”
“No, of course not.” He grinned with one side of his mouth. “That’s Poe. ‘The Tell-Tale Heart.’ About another distressed fellow. Distressed to the point of madness. Do I look mad?”
“You look tired.”
“Nineteen nights.”
“Do you know what triggered your nightmares?” Jud asked.
“Let me show you.” From beneath a Time magazine on the coffee table, he took a newspaper clipping. “You may read this while I see to the coffee.” He got up from the sofa and handed the news article to Jud.
Alone in the room, Jud eased back on the recliner and read:
THREE SLAIN IN BEAST HOUSE
(MALCASA POINT)—The mutilated bodies of two men and an eleven-year-old boy were found late Wednesday night in Malcasa Point’s grisly tourist attraction, Beast House.
According to local authorities, police patrolman Daniel Jenson entered the house at 11:45 P.M. to investigate possible prowlers. When he failed to contact headquarters, a car was dispatched to the location. With the aid of the volunteer fire department, officers cordoned off the area and entered the mysterious house.
The body of Patrolman Jenson was found in the upstairs corridor, along with the bodies of Mr. Matthew Ziegler and his son, Andrew. All three were the victims of apparent knife assault.
According to Mary Ziegler, wife of the deceased, Matthew was angered by their son’s frightened reaction to a public tour of Beast House earlier in the day, and vowed to “show him the beast.” Shortly after 11 p.m. Wednesday night, he drove the boy to Beast House with the intention of breaking in and forcing young Andrew to “face up to” his fears.
Beast House, built in 1902 by the widow of Lyle Thorn, leader of the infamous Thorn Gang, has been the scene of no fewer than eleven mysterious killings since the time of its construction. The present owner, Maggie Kutch, moved out of the house in 1931 after her husband and three children were “torn asunder by a raving white beast” that reportedly entered the house through a downstairs window. Shortly after the brutal slayings, Mrs. Kutch opened the house for daylight tours.
No further incidents were reported until 1951, when two twelve-year-old boys, residents of Malcasa Point, entered the house after dark. One boy, Larry Maywood, escaped with minor injuries. The mutilated body of his friend, Tom Bagley, was found at dawn by investigators.
Commenting on the most recent slayings, the seventy-one-year-old owner of the house explained, “After dark, it belongs to the beast.” According to Malcasa Point Police Chief Billy Charles, “No beast is responsible for the deaths of Patrolman Jenson and the Zieglers. They were slain by a man wielding a sharp instrument. We expect to apprehend the perpetrator in short order.”
Beast House tours have been suspended for an indefinite period, pending completion of the homicide investigation.
Jud sat forward in the recliner and looked at Larry’s nervously smiling face as the man brought cups of coffee into the room. He accepted one of the cups. He waited for Larry to sit down. Then he said, “You introduced yourself as Lawrence Maywood Usher.”
“I’ve always been a great admirer of Poe. In fact, I suppose, it was largely his influence that inspired me to explore Beast House that night with Tommy. It seemed only fitting, when I finally decided a new name was essential for my emotional survival, to take the name of Poe’s haunted Roderick Usher.” 3.
Lawrence Maywood Usher sipped coffee from his fragile bone-china cup. Jud watched him hold the liquid in his mouth like wine, savoring it before swallowing. “Ah, delicious.” He looked eagerly at Jud.
Jud lifted his cup. He liked the heavy aroma, and took a sip. It tasted stronger than he preferred. “Not bad,” he said.
“You’re a master of understatement, Judge.” Concern furrowed the gaunt man’s face. “You do like it?”
“It’s fine. Very good. I’m just not used to this kind of thing.”
“Never become used to anything you love. It blunts the edge of appreciation.”
Jud nodded and took another drink. This time the coffee tasted better. “Are your nightmares about Beast House?” he asked.
“Always.”
“I’m surprised it took a newspaper story to start them, considering what you must’ve gone through at the time.”
“The story, more or less, reactivated the nightmares. I had them constantly for several months following my…encounter. Doctors suggested psychiatric treatment, but my parents wouldn’t hear of it. Perceptive people that they were, they considered psychiatry to be the pursuit of fools and madmen. We moved away from Malcasa Point, and my nightmares rather quickly lost their intensity. I’ve always considered it a victory of common sense over quackery.” He smiled, apparently delighted by his wit, and indulged himself in another taste of coffee.
“Unfortunately,” he continued, “we weren’t entirely able to leave the incident behind. Every now and then, an eager journalist would track us down for a story on the miserable tourist attraction. That would always start the nightmares again. Every major magazine, of course, has done the story.”
“I’ve seen a couple of them.”
“Did you read them?”
“No.”
“Lurid bunk. Reporters! Do you know what a reporter is? ‘A writer who guesses his way to the truth and dispels it with a tempest of words.’ Ambrose Bierce. The single time I did allow one of those scavengers to interview me, he twisted my words so that I appeared a gibbering idiot. He concluded that the encounter had unhinged me! After that, I changed my name. Not one of those bastards has tracked me down, so far, and I’ve been free of nightmares about the beast until now…now that it’s killed again.”
“It?”
“Officially, since the time of the attack on the Lyles, it’s been a he, a knife-wielding maniac, something on the order of Jack the Ripper. Each attack, of course, is a different killer.”
“And it’s not?”
“Not at all. It’s a beast. Always the same beast.”
Jud didn’t try to conceal the expression of doubt he knew was beginning to appear on his face.
“Let me refill your cup, Judge.” 4.
“I don’t know what the beast is,” Larry said. “Perhaps nobody knows. I’ve seen it, though. With the exception of old Maggie Kutch, I’m probably the only living person who has.