Julie and Kelly, along with Harris Dalton, knew then that they wouldn’t be spared. They would be fired and their careers were done.
“Okay, all non-essential personnel clear the house. Ms. Reilly you have five minutes. Father Dolan, you are excused. Please clear the area, everyone. I want our intrepid reporter to do her standup at the staircase.”
Dolan stood without looking at Peterson, and moved to the side of the staircase. Kennedy smiled, and the others of his group looked at him, clearly wondering what he found humorous about all that was happening.
“I think we have our culprit, boys and girls.” Most of the eyes in the room went to Father Dolan, who couldn’t bring himself to look any of them in the eye. “James, you and your friends were the only ones allowed into the house before the broadcast team arrived. Would you like to do a little confessing?” Gabriel asked.
“Look, we know who is responsible for this fiasco, there is no need to call Father Dolan’s reputation into question,” Lionel Peterson said.
“I thought you would come to the defense of the good Father, Peterson,” Kennedy said. He looked toward Julie Reilly. He knew she wasn’t a part of what happened in the basement, but he also knew that like a shark, she was smelling blood in the water. He was going to take advantage of that.
Julie caught the unvoiced instruction. She half turned and whispered into her microphone.
“Get the audio out to New York. Hurry.”
“The two women with you this afternoon, James, they weren’t from any paranormal society at all, were they?” Gabriel asked, stepping even closer to Father Dolan. “Or if they were, they were also experts at rigging up houses. Am I right? Is it so they can say they produce evidence?”
Father Dolan finally looked up at Kennedy. His eyes roamed from the professor to Lionel Peterson, and then to Wallace Lindemann, who stood in front of the ballroom with an empty glass in his hand.
“I see where you’re going with this, Kennedy, but you’re on the wrong tack. Our culprit is right here,” Lionel said, nodding toward Kelly.
Father Dolan shook his head. “The supernatural, these shows, people all over the world turning away from their faith. I thought that—”
At that moment, every door upstairs on the second and third floors opened and slammed against the walls. Then, all at once, they slammed closed again. The lights flickered and the house shook. Lionel Peterson, about to follow the technicians out of the house, stopped and turned. The smile on his lips was wide and mocking.
“Really, it’s a little late for that isn’t it?”
Just as the words exited his mouth, the front doors slammed shut, hitting the last of the makeup girls in the back of the head and sending her flying onto the front porch of the house.
“Good God!” Father Dolan stepped forward, his confession all but forgotten.
The lights flickered again. Then they went out, and a grunt accompanied the sound of someone falling. Then the lights started flashing on and off. In the strobing illumination, Father Dolan lay sprawled on his stomach. Gabriel and Lonetree started forward to assist the older man to his feet, but as they neared him, something took the Father by the feet and started pulling him up the stairs. The cameraman who had been following Lonetree and his group in the cellar thought fast and sprang forward almost at the same moment as Kennedy and Lonetree. He immediately started filming.
“Harris, Harris, get us back on the air, Goddamn it!” the cameraman yelled into his microphone. This was no elaborate hoax.
Gabriel and John reached Father Dolan and grabbed his hands. In the flickering light they all saw the panic on the old man’s face as he was pulled away. Finally George and the second cameraman joined the two men trying to pull Dolan back, actually throwing their bodies on top of the black-clad priest.
The tug of war continued. On the twentieth step leading to the second floor, the small red indicator on the ambient light camera started to glow red.
“We’re going live!” the cameraman shouted.
At the front door, Lionel Peterson stood motionless. Then he also sprang into action, taking Julie Reilly’s headphones from her. In front of the ballroom, Wallace Lindemann let the tumbler of ice slip from his fingers as he watched what was happening on the stairs.
“Who gave you the go ahead to go back on the air, Dalton?” Peterson shouted.
As they all watched, John Lonetree was shoved down the stairs. Gabriel was hit hard enough that his head slammed into the wooden banister. The cameraman and George Cordero were tossed back down the stairs with enough force that the gathered men and women heard bones break as they hit the tiled floor.
Kelly Delaphoy screamed. In the flickering light, she watched Father Dolan being pulled up the stairs hard enough that his head bounced against every step. It was all silent as he disappeared over the second floor landing. Then as suddenly as it had started, the house quit. Then they heard the laugh, deep and booming, coming from upstairs.
Yes, Summer Place had awakened.
TWENTY
The screening room was silent, save only for the sound of ice striking the bottom of a glass. Everyone started, turning away from the large screen for the briefest of moments to look for the source of the sound. Abraham Feuerstein looked up in mock apology and smiled, pouring his own drink for the first time in years — at least, in front of others. He nodded toward the screen.
“Inform Harris Dalton that we’ll stick with the special for the time being. Also inform Lionel Peterson he is not to leave the house, he’s to stay inside with Professor Kennedy. We do have the state policeman on hand?”
“Yes sir,” his assistant said as she helped the old man back to his chair.
“Good. That should preclude anyone calling the authorities.”
“Sir, what if—”
The CEO stared at the man who fronted for Lionel Peterson until the skinny little man closed his mouth.
“I believe our good Professor Kennedy made everyone aware of Mr. Peterson’s culpability in the basement hoax. He stays, and the special goes forward. Instruct Dalton that he has control of commercial interruption time.”
The audio and the visuals that had come in from Summer Place had shocked everyone.
“It looks like Halloween may just turn out to be something special after all.”
The men and women in the screening room had never seen the old man looking so smug.
They all heard the moan coming from upstairs. It was Kennedy who acted first, swiping blood away as he gained his feet. John Lonetree acted second, standing and eyeing Jenny, his unvoiced command making her stand in place and not follow him. Both men bounded up the stairs just as the lighting inside the house came on strong. Everyone else remained in the foyer, motionless. Lionel Peterson heard the command coming from the production van that instructed everyone to keep their places. Not only was the special to continue, it would do so without commercial interruption at Dalton’s discretion. But by far the most shocking news was the order that Harris passed on directly to Peterson himself, and this order made everyone that heard it over their headphones smile: he was to stay inside the house with the investigating teams. Peterson tore the earpiece from his ear and threw it to the ground. A soundman collected it and placed it in his own ear as he and the first cameraman bolted after Kennedy and Lonetree.