The Amityville Horror (16 page)

When he first noticed the snowflakes falling outside the windows, he saw it was one o'clock on his wrist watch. The wind was rising, whipping the flakes about. Then he thought he heard a boat moving on the Amityville River. But the bedroom windows didn't face the water, and George didn't feel like getting up from his warm bed to look out from Missy's or the sewing room windows. Besides the river was frozen, so George ascribed the sound to the vagaries of the wind.

At 2 A.m. he began to yawn. His eyes were getting heavy and his body was getting stiff from lying in one position. A short while ago he had looked over his shoulder at Kathy. She was still flat on her back, her mouth open.

Suddenly George had the urge to get up and go to The Witches'Brew for a beer. He knew there were cans of brew in the refrigerator, but he kept thinking that they wouldn't slake his thirst, It had to be The Witches' Brew, and it didn't matter that it was two in the morning, or that it was freezing out. He turned to wake Kathy and tell her he was going out for a while.

In the darkness of the room, George could see Kathy wasn't in bed. He could see that she was levitating again, almost a foot above him, drifting away from him!

Instinctively George reached out, grabbed her hair, and yanked. Kathy floated back to him and then fell back onto the bed. She awoke.

George turned on the night stand light next to him and gasped. He was looking at a ninety-year-old woman -the hair wild, a shocking white, the face a mass of wrinkles and ugly lines, and saliva dripping from the toothless mouth.

George was so revolted he wanted to flee from the room. Kathy's eyes, set deep in the wrinkles, were looking at him questioningly. George shuddered. It's Kathy, he thought, this is my wife! What the hell am I doing?

Kathy sensed the fright in her husband's face. My God, what does he see? She leaped from the bed and ran into the bathroom, flicking on the light above the mirror. Staring at her own face, she screamed.

The ancient crone George had seen was gone, her hair was upset, but it was blonde again. Her lips were not drooling any longer, nor was she wrinkled. But deep, ugly lines ran up and down her cheeks.

George, following Kathy into the bathroom, peered over her shoulder at the image. He too saw that the ninety-year-old visage had faded, but the long, black slashes still cut deeply down Kathy's face. "What's happening to my face?" Kathy yelled.

She turned to George, and he put his fingers up to Kathy's mouth. Her lips were dry and burning hot. Then he ran his fingertips gently across the deep ridges. There were three on each cheek, extending from just below her eyes down to just under the jawline. "I don't know, baby," he whispered.

George took a towel from the rack next to the sink and tried to wipe the lines away. Kathy spun about and looked into the mirror. Her scared face stared back at her. Running her own fingers down her face, she began to cry.

Kathy's helplessness stirred George deeply, and he put his hands on her shoulders. "I'm going to call Father Mancuso right now," he said.

Kathy shook her head. "No, we mustn't involve him in this." She looked at George's face reflected in the mirror. "Something tells me he could get hurt. We'd better go and check on the kids," she said calmly.

The children were all right, but George and Kathy were unable to go back to sleep that night. They stayed in their bedroom, with the lights out, watching the snow fall. Every once in a while Kathy would hold her bands to her face, checking to feel if the ridges were still there. Finally the cold dawn broke. The snow had stopped, and there was just enough light for George to make out Kathy when she touched him on the shoulder.

"George," she said, "look at my face."

He turned from his position he had taken in a chair near the window and looked at his wife. In the dawn's weak light, George could see that the lines were gone. He put his fingers up to her face and touched her skin. It was soft again, with absolutely no trace of the disfiguring scars!

"They're gone, baby," he smiled gently. "They are all gone."

In spite of what Kathy bad said during the night, George called Father Mancuso in the morning and caught the priest just before he went to early Mass.

George told him that he had spoken to North Carolina, where a Jerry Solfvin had promised to have an investigator come to the house immediately. Then he brought up the incident of the night before. Father Mancuso was aghast about the second levitation and the alterations of Kathy's face. "George," he said urgently, "I'm worried about what could happen next. Why don't you just get out of that house for a while?"

George assured the priest he had been thinking of doing just that, but first he wanted to see what Francine the medium had to say. Maybe she could help as she had claimed.

"A medium?" Father Mancuso asked. "What are you talking about, George? That's not a scientific investigation."

"But she said she can talk to spirits," George protested. "In fact, Father, do you know what she said yesterday? She told me there's a well hidden under my house. She's right! I found one under the stoop and she's never even been here!"

Father Mancuso became angry. "Listen!" he shouted over the phone. "You're involved in something dangerous! I don't know what is going on in your house, but you'd better get out!"

"You mean, just leave everything?"

"Yes, just go for a while," the priest persisted. "I'll talk to the Chancellors again and see if they can send someone, maybe a priest."

George was silent. He had been trying to get Father Mancuso to his house and been refused time and again. The priest's superiors had done nothing but suggest he contact some organization. Finally he had someone who sounded as if she could actually help him and Kathy. Why should he just leave everything and walk out?

"I'll tell Kathy, Father," George finally said. "Thanks." He was about to hang up.

"George, there's just one more thing," said Father Mancuso. "I seem to recall that you and Kathy were into Transcendental Meditation at one time."

"Yes, that's right."

"Do you still practice that?" the priest asked.

"No-yes. Well, we haven't really kept it up since we've moved here," George answered. "Why?"

"I was just curious, George, that's all," Father Mancuso replied. "I'm glad you're not doing it now. It might have been making you susceptible."

Right after talking with George, Father Mancuso called the Chancery in Rockville Centre. Unfortunately, Chancellors Ryan and Nuncio were unavailable and their secretary could only promise to have them call the following day. The priest was extremely agitated and prayed that things would not continue to deteriorate until the Church could bring its forces to bear against the evil that gripped 112 Ocean Avenue.

In his compassion for the Lutzes' plight, Father Mancuso forgot about his own dilemma. But in a few minutes, he was violently reminded that he too was subject to the unrelenting influence. He began to shiver and shake. His stomach heaved and his throat tightened. The priest sneezed, and his eyes watered; he sneezed again and saw blood on the tissue. Chancellor Ryan's warning, "Don't involve yourself any more!" flashed across his mind. But it was too late. Father Mancuso had all the signs of another attack of the flu!

Later that evening Eric, the young engineer who worked at George's company, arrived at the Lutzes' home with his girl friend Francine. George immediately hustled the young couple out of the bitter cold and into the livingroom to warm themselves in front of the big fire.

They brought an infectious cheerfulness that had been missing at 112 Ocean Avenue. George and Kathy responded and soon the four were chatting away like old friends. But under George's exterior warmth, there was an urgency. He wanted Francine to look over the house.

As he was trying to turn the conversation around to her experience with spirits, Francine beat him to it. Suddenly she got up from her seat on the couch and motioned to George. "Put your hand gently over here," she said. George bent over and waved his hand where she had pointed. "Do you feel the cold air?" Francine asked.

"Slightly," George answered.

"She's been sitting here. Now she's left. Now follow the couch. Feel it over here?"

George put his hand near a pillow. "Oh, yeah, it feels warm."

Francine beckoned George and Kathy to follow her. The three entered the dining room while Eric remained in the livingroom by the fireplace. Francine stood next to the big table. "There's an unusual odor here," she said. "I can't quite place it, but it's here. Whew! Do you smell that?"

George sniffed. "Yeah, right here. It's a smell of perspiration."

The girl headed for the kitchen, but hesitated before going into the breakfast nook. "There's an old man and an old lady. They are lost spirits. Do you smell the perfume?"

Kathy's eyes widened. Quickly she looked at George, who shrugged.

"Evidently these people must have had the house at one time," Francine continued, "but they died. Only I don't think they died in the house." She turned to George and said, "I want to go to the basement now, okay?"

When George had first spoken to Francine on the telephone, he told her that mysterious things were happening in his house-but without ever really spelling out what the phenomena were, nor what had actually taken place with Kathy and himself. He hadn't discussed the touchings in the kitchen nor the smell of perfume Kathy had experienced. In any case, Francine had said she would rather draw her own conclusions after visiting the house and "talking to the spirits who live there."

Now Francine descended the stairs to the cellar. "The house is built on a burial ground or something like that," she said. She pointed to a large area of the basement where the storage closets were built. "Is that new?" she asked George.

"I don't think so," he answered. "As far as I know, it was all built at the same time."

Francine stopped in front of the closets. "There are people buried right here. Something is over them. There is an unusual odor. This should not be stuffy at all like this." She was pointing directly at the plywood paneling that hid the secret room. "Notice the chill?" Her hands were moving now, touching the wood. "Somebody was murdered, or he could even be buried under here. But this seems like a new part, like a new part has been added on, and over this grave."

Kathy wanted to run from the basement. Her husband noticed her discomfort and reached for her hand. Francine solved their dilemma. "I don't like this spot at all. It's better that we go upstairs now." Without waiting for a response, she turned and headed for the basement staircase.

As they went up to the second floor, Francine's boyfriend Eric joined them. She stood in the hallway, holding on to the banister. "I have to say that when I came up here, there was a whirling sensation. I felt a tightness on the right half of my chest."

"A pain?" Kathy asked.

Francine nodded. "Very slight, very quick. Right as you turn the comer. It disappeared quickly." She stepped to the closed door of the sewing room. "You've been having problems in here."

George and Kathy both nodded. He opened the door, half expecting to find the flies in the room. But there were none, and he and Francine walked inside. Kathy and Eric hung back in the doorway.

Suddenly Francine appeared to go into a trance. Out of her mouth came a different voice, heavier, more masculine: "I would like to make one suggestion to you. Most people find out who their spirits are and they find they like them. They don't want them to get lost or to go away. But in this case, I feel this house should be cleared or exorcised."

The voice coming from Francine began to sound familiar to George. He couldn't quite place it, but he was sure he had heard it before.

"Somebody's little girl and boys ... I see bloodstains. Somebody hurt themselves badly here. Somebody tried to kill themselves or something ..."

Francine came out of her trance. "I would like to go now," she announced to George and Kathy. "It's not a good time to try to talk to the spirits. I have a feeling I should go. I was born with a Venetian Veil, you know."

George didn't know what she meant, but she promised George to return in a day or so-"When the vibrations are better," she explained. The couple departed almost immediately.

Back in the livingroom, George and Kathy were silent for a long time. Finally Kathy asked, "What do you think?"

"I don't know," George answered. "I just don't know. She was hitting things right on the head." He stood up to put out the fire. "I have to think about it for a while."

Kathy went upstairs to check on the children. Again Harry was staying with the boys since it was too cold out for even a rugged dog. George made his usual check of all the doors and locks, then turned out the lights on the first floor. He went up the steps to his bedroom, then stopped before he reached the second floor landing. George saw that the banister above him was wrenched from its moorings, torn almost completely off the floor foundation. At that very instant, he recalled whose voice had been speaking to him through Francine. It was Father Mancuso!

19 January 8 -On Thursday, Jimmy and his new bride Carey returned from their honeymoon in Bermuda. They called Kathy from Mrs. Conners', and Jimmy told his sister he would drop over later in the day. One of his first questions was whether she and George had found his $1,500. He was very disappointed when Kathy told him there had been no trace of the envelope.

It had taken George all morning to fit the second floor banister's broken anchor posts back in their sockets. When the boys came down for breakfast, both wanted to help, but George shooed them out of the way, telling them they had to go shopping for new shoes with their mother.

No one-Danny, Chris, Missy, or Kathy-had heard the banister being wrenched off its posts during the night. What had caused this latest damage in the house remained a mystery. George and Kathy had their own ideas, but did not voice them in front of the children.

Finally Kathy gathered herself together and herded her brood out to the van to go shopping. George took the opportunity to call Eric. He reached him at home and asked the young man if Francine had said anything after leaving their home. George was troubled to hear that the girl had been very upset with what she felt in the house. She had told Eric she didn't ever want to go back there; the presence was much too strong. She feared if she tried to talk to whatever was at the Lutzes', she would be in danger of a physical attack.