‘That was not Janice Crogan’s source,’ Darke said in a firm, clear voice.
‘I beg to differ,’ Bixby said.
‘Actually,’ Lynn said, ‘that’s correct. Was that you, Darke?’
‘That was me.’
‘You know your stuff.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Janice’s inspiration for The Haunted Palace didn’t come from Edgar Allan Poe, it came from a relatively unknown horror novel published in 1982. The book told about a movie theater that exclusively showed horror films . . .’
‘And snuff films,’ Darke whispered to Owen.
He nodded.
‘. . . what Janice wanted to do with her theater.’
‘I read it,’ Owen said. As Darke smiled and nodded, he whispered the title of the book, the name of the author.
‘. . . under construction, she continued to show The Horror every Saturday night at . . .’
‘I love his stuff,’ Darke whispered.
‘. . . Welcome Inn’s dining room.’
‘Me, too,’ whispered Owen.
Darke squeezed his hand.
‘. . . until she opened The Haunted Palace in 1984. From that time on, this theater has been running a full schedule of classic and contemporary horror films. But every Saturday night, it closes its doors to the general public at about nine o’clock and opens again at ten for the exclusive, Midnight Tour screening of The Horror.
‘Before I go on to talk to you about the film itself, are there any questions about the theater?’
‘Does it, like, show the good stuff?’
Lynn smiled and shook her head. ‘Such as?’
‘I Spit on Your Grave, man. It’s the best.’
‘How about Cannibal? That’s way cool.’
‘The Hills Have Eyes?’
‘What about Chain Saw?’
‘Last House on the Left?’
Lynn held up a hand. ‘Those have all been shown here, guys, but . . .’
‘What’s your fave?’
‘Hard to say. But we do need to start The Horror fairly soon. If you’ll leave your names and addresses, we’ll put you on The Haunted Palace mailing list. There’s a sign-up sheet in the theater lobby. Any more questions?’
‘Do you show Cabin Boy?’
‘I’m not sure it’s a horror film,’ Lynn said.
‘Sure it is. It’s got, like, a giant.’
‘It’s got, like, Dave.’
‘Young men!’ Bixby bellowed. ‘Some of us are not interested in your drivel.’
‘Like, chill, dude,’ Dennis said.
‘Take a Prozac, ass-wipe,’ said Arnold.
Lynn frowned at them. ‘That’s enough, guys. I’d like to get in a few words about the movie.’
Behind Owen, Bixby muttered, ‘Did one of those little shits call me an ass-wipe?’
‘Okay,’ Lynn said into the microphone. ‘Most of you are probably already familiar with the background of The Horror, or you wouldn’t be here. So I’ll make it brief. The film was based on Janice Crogan’s 1980 bestseller, The Horror at Malcasa Point, and made by an independent film company that called itself Malcasa Pictures. The screenplay was written by Steve Saunders, and the director was Ray Cunningham. The entire picture was filmed on location here in town in the summer of 1980.
‘The making of The Horror was delayed by a situation that’s probably no less strange than the story of Beast House, itself. It’s been written up . . . many times. There’ve even been segments about it on such TV shows as Hard Copy and Unsolved Mysteries.
‘As most of you already know, the legendary Marlon Slade came into town to direct The Horror. The leading lady was set to be played by Tricia Talbot, a beautiful young actress who would later go on to star in such movies as Silent Shriek and Sunset Nights before her tragic death in 1988.
‘Tricia was supposed to play the role of Janice Crogan in The Horror. However, the night before shooting was scheduled to begin, she was brutally beaten and raped by Slade. At the time, it was all kept very hush-hush. She drove off in the middle of the night. The next day, Slade explained her absence by saying that she had quit the film over “creative differences.” Tricia later gave her version of the assault to the police, but it wasn’t made public until several years later.
‘The reason she talked to the police was because – the very next day after raping her – Slade disappeared without a trace. Vanished into thin air.
‘According to his assistant, he’d gone off to look for a young lady who called herself Margaret Blume. Margaret had been a guide at Beast House. Apparently, she was a very beautiful young woman, probably no older than sixteen. To this day, she remains a mystery. It’s believed that the name she used may have been an alias derived from Judy Blume, the author, and her very popular book, Are You There, God? It’s Me, Margaret.
‘Almost nothing is known about Margaret Blume – just that she’d been guiding tours through Beast House for about a year before the film crew came to town. It’s speculated that she was a runaway who wandered into town, went on the Beast House tour, and somehow worked her way into becoming a guide. She would’ve been hired by Agnes Kutch, but Agnes has never been very communicative. All we really know about Margaret is that she was a young teenager and extremely attractive. Attractive enough to entice Marlon Slade.
‘The day after his assault on Tricia Talbot, Slade approached Margaret about taking a role in the movie. Instead of simply turning the offer down, she fled – tailed by Slade’s assistant, who later told Slade where to find her. It seems that Margaret lived by herself in an old trailer up in the hills.
‘That night, Slade must’ve gone to pay her a visit. His car was later found abandoned not far from the area where Margaret’s trailer was supposed to be. But her trailer was gone. She was gone. Slade was gone. No trace of Marlon Slade or Margaret Blume has ever been discovered.
‘Some people say that Slade and Margaret fell madly in love that night, ran off together and changed their identities – and have been living together happily ever after. Personally, I think that’s nonsense. It’s much more likely that Slade went up to the trailer with the intention of raping Margaret – doing her the same way he’d done Tricia Talbot the night before. Perhaps she got the upper hand, killed him in self-defense, and then went into hiding. More likely, though, it went the other way around: Slade raped and murdered the beautiful teenaged guide. He somehow disposed of her body, and he went into hiding.’
‘I like it better the other way,’ Darke whispered.
‘Me, too.’
She squeezed Owen’s hand.
‘It’s one of those mysteries,’ Lynn said, ‘that piques the imagination but has no answers. We’ll probably never know what became of Marlon Slade or the girl who called herself Margaret Blume. And we can only wonder how the movie might’ve been different if Slade had directed it, if it had starred Tricia Talbot.
‘As things turned out, however, The Horror launched the career of Ray Cunningham, who has gone on to become one of our major directors. It starred Melinda James in the role of Janice Crogan – originally intended to be played by Tricia Talbot. Melinda went on to reprise the role of Janice in four sequels, and has appeared in numerous other thrillers.’
‘Melinda rules!’ called out Dennis.
‘Bodacious babe,’ called out Arnold.
‘How about Pieces of Hate?’
‘How about Death Cruise, man?’
‘Cool.’
‘Way cool.’
‘You see her hangin’ upside-down?’
‘Oh, yeah. Awesome.’
Lynn raised a hand for silence. ‘Arnold and Dennis are absolutely right. Melinda starred in Pieces of Hate, Death Cruise, and quite a few other films. And it was indeed awesome when they hung her upside-down at the climax of Death Cruise.’
A few people in the audience laughed.
Darke even laughed.
Dennis said, ‘Her shoulders disappeared, dude.’
‘Let’s ju
st say they were temporarily obstructed from view,’ said Lynn, grinning.
‘I do wish they’d get on with the film,’ Bixby muttered.
‘As if anybody cares about any of this,’ said Monica. ‘It’s all so incredibly lame and sophomoric.’
Vein looked back and said, ‘Shut your faces, both of you.’
‘. . . original “Beast,”’ Lynn was saying, ‘and continued to play the beast through The Horror III: Resurrection.’
‘Sligo forever!’
‘My man!
‘Guys,’ Lynn said. ‘Chill. Please.’
‘Cool,’ said one.
‘Sorry,’ said the other.
‘Gunther Sligo then went on to be stunt coordinator for several films. Recently, he has made a name for himself as the director of Expungement Night, which was a big hit this year at the Sundance Festival.
‘The Horror, as I’m sure you all know, was a box-office smash. It not only launched several successful careers, but also an epidemic of sequels and prequels. Last time I checked, we were up to The Horror VII: The Ripper. Some have been fairly good, but there’ve been a couple of real clunkers. I’m sure you all have your favorites. For most people, though, the best of the bunch was the first. It’s generally considered to be a classic of the genre.
‘Tonight, you’ll have the very rare opportunity to experience The Horror on the big screen, completely uncut, in its original unrated version. This is a version that you won’t find at any other movie theater, and you’ll never see on television. If you rent or buy The Horror at a video store, you’ll be getting the one that’s rated R. It happens to be missing thirteen minutes – thirteen minutes that you’ll be seeing tonight.’
Lynn glanced at her wristwatch. ‘We’re running a little late, so please save any questions for later. Now, let’s start the movie. Clyde?’
The spotlight went out.
Moments later, Lynn was gone from the stage as the movie screen went bright with color.
Black letters on a scarlet background read, MALCASA PICTURES PRESENTS. Jungle drums began to pound.
The black letters faded away, leaving the screen red and empty like a sea of blood.
The drums kept booming.
And a beast lumbered out from the left side of the screen.
The instant it appeared, the small group of tourists scattered through the auditorium of The Haunted Palace erupted with applause and whistles and shouts.
The beast stopped in the middle of the screen, turned toward the audience, and roared.
Chapter Fifty-Three
‘Let’s Book!’
Entering the auditorium just before the lights went out, Dana had asked Warren, ‘Where do you want to sit?’
‘Do you think there’s room for us?’
Of about two hundred seats, only thirteen were occupied.
‘Maybe we’ll have to split up,’ Dana had said.
‘I think there might be a couple of vacant seats over there.’ Warren had pointed to the last row, where every seat was empty.
‘Well, if we can squeeze in.’
‘I’ll go first.’
In the middle of the row, they’d eased down into the soft armchairs.
‘Is this too far back for you?’ Warren had asked.
‘I don’t mind.’
‘I like having the wall behind us.’
‘A lot safer that way,’ Dana had agreed. ‘And we can make out.’
As the lights faded to darkness, Warren had leaned toward Dana and slipped his arm around her back.
He’d been fine during Tuck’s presentation, even laughing a few times, mostly at the antics of Dennis and Arnold. But when The Horror began, Dana could sense his tension. His back stiffened. His right hand, gently caressing her shoulder and upper arm, stopped moving. During the first beast attack, his thigh muscles flexed rigid under Dana’s hand and she heard his breath hissing in and out.
She turned her head slightly to look at him. He was gazing at the screen, eyes wide, mouth open.
‘Are you okay?’ she whispered.
He didn’t respond.
She shook his leg. ‘Warren?’
As if dragged out of a trance, he looked at her. ‘Huh?’
‘Are you all right?’
‘Yeah. Sure. I guess so.’
‘You’ve seen this before, haven’t you?’
‘Sure.’ Mouth twitching, he added, ‘A few times. Like maybe fifty or sixty.’
‘You seem awfully upset.’
‘Well . . .’
‘Is it the movie?’
‘I . . . Yeah, I guess so. I haven’t . . . this is the first time I’ve watched it since . . . you know, getting jumped.’ Grimacing, he said, ‘I didn’t think it’d be a problem. But I guess maybe it is.’
‘Let’s book,’ Dana said.
‘No, no. I’ll manage. It’ll be all right.’
‘Sure,’ Dana said. She gave his leg a squeeze, then let go and stood up. ‘I’m booking. Want to come with me?’ Not waiting for an answer, she took his hand and pulled.
Warren rose out of his seat and hurried along behind Dana to the end of the row.
She shoved open the door and towed him into the lobby.
‘You can let go, now. I’ll be fine.’
She didn’t let go.
‘You don’t want to miss the movie,’ he said.
‘I’ve seen it plenty of times.’ She pushed open the glass door and towed Warren outside. After a few more strides, she turned around and took him into her arms. He was panting for air. His whole body seemed to be trembling. She hugged him tightly.
Soon, his breathing relaxed and his tremors faded.
Dana eased her hold on him. She gently caressed his back and brushed her lips against his cheek. ‘Feeling better?’ she whispered.
‘Feel like a jerk,’ he muttered.
‘Nah.’
‘Can’t even watch a damn movie . . .’
‘I don’t care about the movie. I just care about you.’ Then she kissed him on the mouth, moaning, rubbing herself against him, sliding a hand down and squeezing his rump.
She felt Warren’s hands on her buttocks.
Against her thigh, she felt his rising hardness.
And she realized they were standing beneath the brightly lighted marquee of The Haunted Palace, in plain view of anyone who might wander by on the sidewalk or drive past them on Front Street.
‘Maybe we should go someplace,’ she said.
‘What’ve you got in your pocket?’
‘What?’
‘That hard thing,’ Warren said.
‘Oh, that. It’s my rod.’
‘Your what?’
‘Reach in.’
Frowning slightly, Warren slipped a hand down the deep front pocket of her shorts. The pistol swayed, bumping against her thigh. ‘It’s a gun?’
‘Eve loaned it to me.’
Saying Eve’s name, Dana felt a surge of worry.
Where is she?
If she doesn’t show up for the tour, Dana thought, we’d better go looking for her.
She suddenly became aware of Warren’s hand, still down there with the pistol, rubbing her thigh through the thin fabric of her pocket lining.
She met his eyes.
He smiled. ‘You aren’t really wearing my skivvies, are you?’
‘What do you think?’
‘Uh . . . Doesn’t feel like you’re wearing anything under there.’
‘Bingo.’
‘Oh, man.’
‘So. Where would you like to go?’
‘Maybe we can find a Bingo game.’
Dana laughed.
Warren removed his hand from her pocket, took a deep breath, and sighed. ‘What about . . . should we go back into the theater? It’ll at least be warm.’
‘No,’ she said, and kissed him on the mouth.
‘You could go back in without me,’ Warren suggested. ‘I’ll head on back to Beast House and help the gals with the cleanup.’
>
‘No,’ Dana said, and kissed him on the mouth again. ‘They’d be disappointed. They wanted us to have a nice, romantic time at the movie.’
‘I don’t think that’s in the cards.’
‘No, it’s not.’ She kissed him on the mouth again. ‘Not at the movie, anyway.’ Letting go of Warren’s rump, she raised her arm over his shoulder and glanced at her wristwatch. ‘We’ve got an hour and a half before the tour starts. Let’s try to use it wisely.’
Warren laughed, his body shaking against her. ‘I thought you were worn out from last night.’
‘Not that worn out. Let’s figure out where to go.’
‘There’s my place,’ Warren said.
‘What’s that, about a ten-minute walk from here?’
‘About.’
‘We’d be killing twenty minutes just going back and forth.’
‘There’s the snack stand.’ He shook his head. ‘Only thing is, we’d probably run into Windy and Rhonda.’
‘Let’s not.’
‘I know! The museum!’
‘The Beast House Museum?’
‘Sure.’
Dana could see it from where she stood – on the other side of Front Street and half a block to the north. The neon sign above its door flashed BEAST HOUSE MUSEUM & SOUVENIRS in swirling red letters that appeared to be dripping blood. Perched above the words was the blue neon outline of a seven-foot-tall, prowling beast.
A much smaller sign, also blue neon, lit up the middle of the display window. It read CLOSED.
‘We can be there in a couple of minutes,’ Warren said.
‘Can we get in?’ Dana asked.
‘Sure. I’ve got keys to everything.’ He pulled her by the hand.
They rushed over to the curb. There was no traffic in sight, so they ran across the street.
As they hurried up the sidewalk, Dana asked, ‘Will you be all right in there?’
‘Sure.’
‘Are you sure? I mean, if the movie got to you like that . . . I’d think the museum might be even worse.’
‘It doesn’t bother me.’
‘Have you been in it lately?’
‘Does last week count?’
Dana nodded.
‘Janice normally runs the place, you know. When she’s there, I drop in two, three times a week. And I have no troubles.’