Night Stalks The Mansion: A True Story Of One Family's Ghostly Adventure (17 page)

"What's that?" I asked.

"That little word, maybe."

I knew what he meant. "And maybe you're right," I told
him.

Shortly after this talk, the chows' behavior changed
abruptly.

It was well past midnight when I awoke to the sound of
loud barking. I got up to see what the trouble was, thinking that a neighbor's horse had gotten loose and was coming
down the driveway. Dorothy stirred in her sleep, but didn't
wake up. I grabbed my robe and slippers, then went out,
closing the door softly behind me.

The barking continued as I went downstairs and turned
on the porch light. Then I went to the window to look outside. A woman was staggering up the path. The chows,
strangely enough, were not nipping at her heels. They remained about five feet away and were backing up, shoulder
to shoulder, every hair standing on end.

The strange procession continued until the dogs had
backed up onto the front porch. I could see that the woman
was wild-looking and disheveled, her hair hanging over her
eyes. I hesitated about opening the door but I remembered
the dogs were out there and that I could control them. At
that moment she started to pound on the front door as she
screamed, "Let me in! Let me in!"

I quickly left the window and opened the door. She fell
into the front hall. The dogs had streaked in ahead of her,
but still kept their distance, snarling viciously.

"Quiet!" I commanded. But the chows, usually so obedient, continued to snarl with hackles raised. They were like
Siamese twins responding to a single impulse.

"It took a lot of courage to come past those dogs," I said.
"Weren't you afraid?" I tried to sound casual, as if this sort
of late-night visit was an ordinary occurrence.

"Dogs?" She barely glanced at them. "I'm not nearly as
afraid of the dogs as I am of what's down there!" She pointed
down the road toward the creek. I turned on an overhead
light in the hall to get a good look at her. It took great control not to cry out.

She was wearing a black dress. It was on backwards and
had been ripped in several places. It was obvious that she
had nothing on beneath it. Her face was swollen and bruised.
One eye was blackened and entirely closed. Blood had dried on the other cheek. Her hair was matted. She clutched the
dress across her body as if to cover up as much of herself as
she could.

I was horrified. "My God!" I cried. "What happened?
Did you have a wreck?"

She laughed shrilly. "Wreck?" she echoed wildly. "I'm
the wreck!"

I led the way to the kitchen where I had both brandy and
coffee available. "I'll get my wife down here. She can help
clean you up -lend you some clothes!"

"Nol Nol Don't bother her! I only want to use your phone."

"Who did this to you?"

"Two men."

"Where?"

"They've been holding me captive down at the creek.
They both assaulted me!" Her voice rose on a hysterical
note. "They assaulted mel"

"That's obvious. Where are they now?" I demanded.

Again she pointed. "Down there. Down at the creek.
They wouldn't let me go. They said if I tried to get away-if
I screamed -they'd kill me sure!"

She wrung her hands and the folds of the dress, now released from her tight grasp, slid open to show a swollen and
blackened thigh.

"I'll call the police!"

"Nol I only want to go home. May I use that phone?"

"I'm calling the police," I insisted. "Men like that are
dangerous. They should be picked up while they are still in
the neighborhood!"

"No! Don't call them nowt"

"How did you get away?" I asked. I wondered if the men
could have followed her to the house and if I should run
upstairs and get my gun. I also wished that the two boys
were home in case I needed any help.

"They were drunk and I slipped away. They've been drinking for hours-empty bottles are all over the ground
down there."

"Where?"

"Near the crossroads."

The crossroads were around the bend of the road and
over a bridge about a quarter of a mile away. An old house
was there-delapidated and fallen down, but some walls
still leaned against the rotted wooden partitions.

"Did they keep you in the old house?" I asked.

"No. It was further on by the creek, but near there. They
kidnapped mel"

I had put the coffee on to heat and I tested the pot. I felt
she could use a strong cup of coffee. As a matter of fact, so
could I.

"So you got away. Did they know?"

"Oh yes. But I got to the car and grabbed my dress. I hid
in the ditch with the dress over me. It's black and they
didn't see me."

"What did you do then?" I was trying to get a straight
story. I still had every intention of calling the police.

"I ran. I saw the light in your upstairs window and I ran
toward the light. I must use your phonel"

Her story rang true. The light she referred to was the
night light in the nursery. She would have seen it after she
came around the bend in the road.

"You sit there and drink your coffee," I commanded.
"I'll call the police for you. You needn't talk any more just
now.

"I won't talk to the police tonight!" she cried. I was amazed
at the vehemence in her voice.

"Will you report it the first thing in the morning then?"
I asked. "You owe that to other innocent people. These men
have to be caught!"

"I think I know who they are," she replied impatiently.
"I'll tell the police in the morning."

I looked at her more closely and shuddered. She had
brutal bites and welts all over her neck and shoulders. "You've
had a horrible time."

"They were horrible menl"

"You belong in a hospital. You should see a doctor."

"I belong at home. May I use your phone now?"

I led her to the phone in the hall. As upset as I was, I still
looked over at the library door. It was closed.

"You don't need to phone," I said. "If you'll tell me where
you live, I'll take you home."

"No. I'll call a cab."

"I'll call one for you," I offered, wondering if she were
able to do it herself.

"No!" she cried angrily. "I can call!"

By this time I was exasperated. Never had the offers of a
good Samaritan been refused so consistently and with such
brusqueness.

"Suit yourself!" I replied shortly. I noticed that every time
the woman spoke, the dogs growled deep in their throats,
but they did not approach her. I heard her order a cab and
give our address. Then she hung up and we went back to
the kitchen. There was no more conversation between us.
She barely sipped at her coffee. About five minutes later
I heard the cab drive up.

I walked to the door with her and motioned for the dogs
to go out. They obeyed, but they were still growling, holding their tails as low to the ground as they could manage.
I watched her stagger to the cab and climb in. No one got
out to open the door for her. I called out to her, reminding
her to report to the police the first thing in the morning or
I would have to do it myself.

"I'll report itl" she yelled back over her shoulder.

I heard the noise of the engine as it was accelerated, and
I heard the cab drive away. It was very dark and I didn't
notice which company had sent the car. I patted the dogs who were still uneasy. Then I relocked the door and switched
off the porch light. Finally, I wiped my forehead with the
sleeve of my robe.

"Whew!" I said.

Upstairs, I woke Dorothy. "If I didn't know your real
age," I told her when she looked at me sleepily, "I'd accuse
you of sleeping through the San Francisco earthquake. It's
my fault because I closed the door so as not to disturb you -
but I sure could have used reinforcements. Didn't you hear
the commotion at all?"

She sat up in bed. "I did hear the dogs-sort of," she
admitted. "What was the trouble?"

"Oh, nothing much," I replied nonchalantly. "Just a
woman. Just a case of kidnapping and assault and a halfcrazy woman who wouldn't let me help her in any way or
even call the police. She used our phone to call a cab."

Dorothy was wide awake by now and filled with concern.
I thought, a little wildly, about the psychological blocks we
all set up. She was tired and needed her rest, and slept
through the noise downstairs. But if it had been a whimper
from the nursery, she'd have been the first one there. I told
her the whole story, admitting my own frustration and irritation at the strange visitor.

"But Harold," she protested, "you should have called
me, anyway. That poor woman was in shock. She didn't
know what she was doingl"

"Oh, yes she did!" I was still upset. "She knew exactly
what she wanted to do and she did it. She also knew what
she didn't want me to do-and I didn't do it. I should have
called the police immediately and sent for a doctor. I still
can't figure out how she talked me out of doing itl If I ever
saw an apparition, she was it. But she did promise to report
it in the morning!"

"I don't understand . . ." Her voice trailed off.

"Neither do I. What's the matter with this place?" I de manded, annoyed. "This whole area is nuts! Why can't
things happen normally to us?"

"What was her name?" Dorothy wanted to know.

"She didn't bother to tell me. I should have gotten that,
at least. But I didn't-I couldn't."

Neither did the police. When I phoned them early the
next day, there had been no report made of the incident.
I called at intervals during the day, making a pest of myself,
but there was still no report. Then I called police stations
in all the nearby towns and got the same negative results.
I even checked with the police in Philadelphia. There was
nothing on record. By this time I realized that the woman
hadn't reported her attack to anyone-and had never intended to.

"Why not call the local cab company? Dorothy suggested.
"They'll know where their passenger was picked up and
where she was taken."

"Of course!" I cried.

I phoned the cab company and learned that there had
been no call at our neighborhood during the entire night.
In desperation I called the cab companies in the surrounding towns. There was still no record of such a fare.

"That cab was here in about five minutes," I almost
shouted. "It couldn't have come from too far away-even
if it had been cruising-and what cab cruises around here
after midnight?"

The boys were fascinated by my story. We went down to
the crossroads. We looked through the old house-just in
case. We searched along the creek for a quarter of a mile in
both directions - and then for another quarter of a mile.
There was no evidence of any drinking party-no bottles,
no debris. There were also no tracks where a car might have
been parked during those hours of the night that the woman
had told me about.

"What about the ditch where she hid?" Hal asked at last.

That brought me up short. I swallowed hard. "Boys, we
know this area," I managed to reply. "There isn't any ditchl"

They both regarded me strangely. "Are you sure it really
happened, Dad? Could you have had a nightmare?" Hal
sounded concerned.

I was too confused to be indignant. "What about the two
cups of cold coffee on the breakfast table?" I asked. "And
your mother heard the dogs."

"I wish we'd been home," said Hal.

"So do I," I replied fervently.

"Maybe this woman wasn't as innocent as she pretended
to be," Hal volunteered. "Maybe she's a married woman
in the neighborhood who let herself get picked up and
doesn't want publicity."

"There's that word again," Bob said almost crossly. "Maybe
. . . maybe . . . I'm getting sick of it. I'd like something
clear-cut and definite fora change!"

"So would I," I retorted grimly. "Unfortunately life isn't
always clear-cut and definite. But I think Hal's theory is the
one the police have accepted -if they believe my story at
all. But some of these pieces simply don't fit together. She
was in a terrible state. I've never seen anyone as badly beaten
up outside of a prize fight-and teeth are barred there.
Then I heard her phone. I heard the cab drive up and
watched it drive away."

"Did you ever know another family in your life to whom
such strange things happen?" demanded Bob irately.

"I never did."

"And all since we've moved into this house," put in Hal
thoughtfully.

We walked back to the house in silence. As with Ernestine's story of the reading lamp, something was nudging at
my mind. I stopped.

"What's the matter, now?" Hal asked.

"I was just thinking about the dogs and the way they
acted last night."

"Well, at least they barked," Bob remarked wryly.

"You know - it isn't the woman or the cab that bothers
me now. It's those dogs-and it scares me."

"In what way?" Bob asked curiously.

"They were deadly afraid of her," I replied slowly. "They
cringed on their bellies. They wouldn't come within five
feet of her and they wouldn't stop snarling. They couldn't
have been more terrified if she had come directly from hell!"

"Maybe she did," said Hal.

I am not only persistently curious, I am also fairly stubborn.
I continued checking the police stations for a couple of days
in fruitless efforts to trace the midnight visitor. The strange
woman was the topic of most of our family conversations
for several days.

We had just gathered at the dinner table and Enoch was
clearing up a few things in the kitchen before leaving for
his tackroom. Winter was over and the days were getting
longer, so our meals were planned accordingly. Enoch had
never budged from his determination to leave the big house
by dark. If we were late for dinner, he didn't even serve and
Dorothy took over. He never objected to coming in the next
morning and cleaning up any mess left in the kitchen as a
result of midnight snacks or elaborate meals. He worked
with a will in the early morning hours.