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  Amber leaned down and opened a cabinet next to the washing machine, withdrew a box of Ivory Snow, and poured a cup of it on top of the clothes. "I could kill you, Minnie," she repeated.

  The reason she was so ticked at the housekeeper was her big fat mouth. At first, she'd liked Minnie because of all the interesting stories she told, many of them nasty ones about that witch, Theo Pelinore. But last night, she found out from Kelly that Minnie had been gossiping about her to Mrs. Cox.

  "You bitch," she whispered, closing the lid and starting the water. She had set it on the delicate cycle, so there was no point in leaving the room: she'd have to add softener in ten minutes, tops. She backed up to the built-in folding table, put her hands on it and easily hoisted herself up so she could sit.

  Swinging her legs back and forth, she thought about what Kelly had told her Minnie said, and started doing another slow burn. How dare she! "I gotta tell you something, Amber," Kelly had said, once they were sprawled out on the twin beds in her room. "You better watch out for Minnie Willard, she's been talking about you to my mom."

  "What?"

  "And my mom's way down on her list of people to visit. Like, twentieth or something. By the time she gets to Mom, she's already told half the town." Kelly started brushing out her thick chestnut-colored hair.

  "Christ, Kel, what did she say to her?"

  Kelly leaned forward. "She was talking about your underwear."

  "My what?"

  "Shhhh. She told Mom you had really sexy underwear and that she didn't think it was proper for your dad to buy you things like that."

  Amber couldn't believe her ears and it took a major effort to keep her voice lowered. "What the hell is she talking about? Who the hell does she think she is?"

  "She probably thinks you're supposed to wear white cotton fat lady pants like she does, and shit like that." Kelly stopped brushing a moment. "Don't get too excited, Amber. Everybody knows what a prude she is."

  "How dare she! That bitch! What my underwear looks like isn't any of her business!"

  "That's right, so you better start washing it yourself. Do all your laundry yourself or she'll talk about how low-cut your shirts are and what size you wear and the length of your skirts." Kelly made a face. "I guess she'll do that whether she washes your clothes or not. But at least don't let her wash your bras and panties."

  "God."

  "Can you lock your bedroom door? She'll read your diary and everything and then tell the whole town."

  "My dad put locks on both our doors already. God, for once he was right."

  "Right about what?"

  "He said she's a snoop. He's usually really stupid about women, but he didn't like Willard from the moment he met her. I did." She smiled sheepishly. "I liked the nasty things she said about Theo Pelinore."

  "Theo's kind of a twat."

  "She's after my dad, big time."

  Kelly cocked her head. "Come on, Amber, what'd you expect? Your dad's kind of a hunk for an old guy, and he's rich and famous."

  "Yeah, I know. That's why she wants him. She's a predator, I just know it, but he thinks she's nice."

  "She's got big boobs." Kelly covered her mouth to muffle the trail of giggles that followed.

  Amber started giggling too, and soon they'd pretty much trashed Theo Pelinore. Then Kelly told her Theo didn't fuck everybody in town, just rich, good-looking guys, no matter what Minnie the Bitch claimed. "Willard says she tried to seduce that toad she's married to."

  "Mickey Rat?"

  "Yes! Can you believe that?" They giggled hysterically. "Can you even imagine it?"

  Amber held her sides. "I don't want to imagine it! Gross plus!"

  About then Mrs. Cox knocked on the door and told them it was after midnight and let's get some sleep, shall we? They whispered in the dark, talking about Rick Feldspar and Jason Swenson, who turned out to be Eric's cousin and Chief Swenson's baby brother.

  "My dad wants to meet the chief," Amber said.

  "Why?" Kelly gasped in the dark and lowered her voice a notch. "He's not on probation or anything, is he?"

  "God, no! Why would you think that?"

  "Who wants to talk to a cop if they don't have to?"

  That made sense. "My dad talks to all kinds of weird people. Once he went to a mortuary."

  "Gross!"

  "Tell me about it!"

  "So why's he want to talk to Craig Swenson?"

  "To talk about the history of Body House. Eric said Craig was a rookie cop when those hippies got killed, so my dad wants to ask him about it."

  "Oh. Isn't Eric cute?"

  "He's not my type," Amber said, "but I like him. He's sweet."

  "I don't know him, but my dad says he's retarded."

  Amber considered that a moment. "Minnie the Bitch says he's retarded, too. Maybe your dad heard it from her. Theo the Witch said it too. But I don't think so. My dad says he's just different and that he's really psychic."

  "Theo the Witch and Minnie the Bitch. Are you gonna be a writer, too, Amber?"

  She threw her pillow at Kelly. "God, no way!"

  Kelly threw the pillow back. "Why's he say Eric's psychic? What's he mean by that?"

  Amber told her a little, then asked her not to repeat it, for Eric's sake.

  They fell silent for a few minutes, and Amber's eyes grew heavy. Then Kelly spoke again.

  "You know that stuff I told you about the underwear?"

  "Yeah?" Inwardly, Amber cringed

  "Can I ask you a question?"

  "You can't try on my underwear."

  "No, seriously, Amber. Can I ask you a question without you getting mad?"

  Amber propped herself up on one elbow, instantly alert.

  "You can ask," she said, using her dad's standard reply.

  "Well... "

  "Spit it out."

  "Did your dad buy your underwear?"

  Amber couldn't answer for a long time, all she could do was feel her heartbeat reverberating in her head. "Kelly, you said nobody listens to Minnie, but you just asked about what she said. If you ask that, everybody's going to ask that. Shit." She felt like crying.

  "I'm sorry, Amber. I mean, you guys live by yourselves and all and... Oh shit, I'm sorry."

  "I buy my own clothes, okay? My dad had a girlfriend in New York who lived with him a long time and they were going to get married, but they broke up. Melanie was great. She was the only female my dad ever brought home that wasn't a gold-digging bitch." The words came out venomously, but she didn't care. "Melanie is a literary agent and she's gorgeous. She taught me all about clothes and make-up and stuff and she and I used to go shopping at Bloomie's all the time. Melanie helped me pick out lots of things, like shoes and purses. And underwear."

  Kelly quietly switched on the lamp between the beds. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you. I'm really sorry."

  "It's okay. I'm glad you told me about Minnie Rat. I've gotta get my dad to fire her."

  "If he doesn't like her, that should be easy."

  "It would be if there was another housekeeper around he could hire. But he's not going to want to do it until there is."

  "So tell him the underwear stuff. He'll fire her ass in a New York minute."

  Amber grinned, feeling affection for her friend. "I guess I could, maybe. I'll have to think about it. But, I don't really want to, you know?"

  "Yeah, it's weird to talk to your dad about underwear."

  Kelly paused. "So what about this Melanie? Does your dad still love her or was the argument too serious?"

  "He never says anything, but he's got her picture in his wallet and he's got one on his desk. He hides it in his drawer when anyone comes in."

  "So he's got it bad?"

  "Yeah."

  "What about Melanie?"

  Amber shrugged. "I don't know."

  "Can you call her?"

  "Why? So she can swear out an affidavit saying she helped me choose my underwear?"

  Kelly shook her head. "Don't be a goo
f. If you could get them back together, nobody'd believe any of that stuff about your dad buying your underwear. You could get Minnie fired really easy."

  "Melanie could hire someone new," Amber admitted. "She's really good at stuff like that."

  Kelly nodded. "And she'd sure cramp old Pelinore's style."

  * * *

  The washing machine cycled and Amber put the softener into the water. Later, she might call Melanie, maybe, to ask her about some lamps she was trying to talk her father into, and just see how she acted, see if maybe Mel was missing him. Meanwhile, Amber could barely control her anger. The minute Minnie Willard walked in today, she wanted to fire her. Who knows? Maybe I will! Her dad might be a little ticked, but it would be worth it. She'd do a lot of the household stuff herself to make it easier. Then she realized that the rat lady wouldn't buy it unless her dad did the firing--and she'd have to tell him why she wanted Minnie out of the house. Christ!

  She glanced at her wristwatch. It was nearly nine-thirty. Where was he? She slid off the table and walked around the room, idly opening and closing the myriad of cabinets lining the walls. One lower door stuck and she thought it was the fresh paint, so she yanked harder. Suddenly it opened and she squatted down to look.

  "Wow." This one was too deep to see into, just like the giant linen closet between the bathroom and this room. She squinted, thinking she saw a golden glint deep inside. Finally, getting down on her hands and knees, she ducked her head and torso inside and reached for the tiny object.

  "Ouch!" She pricked herself on whatever it was and, gingerly, she put her fingers around the object and drew it out.

  She heard a vague clicking sound deep within the cabinet. It was a small jeweled brooch, an art nouveau butterfly. A drop of blood oozed from her finger, but she ignored it. How could this be here? she wondered. With all the people moving in and out of the house, it seemed impossible, but she felt sure it dated from Lizzie's time.

  She rose and set the brooch on the counter then went to wash her hands, squeezing the blood out of the pinprick to clean it. A faint whiff of lavender reached her nose and she turned and looked at the open cabinet. "Lizzie?"

  No reply, but what did she expect? The lavender fragrance strengthened. "You want me to look in the cabinet again?"

  The smell was all around her as she got on her knees and crawled partway inside once more. Where the pin had lain, the bottom of the cabinet had slid away to reveal an opening similar to the one in her wardrobe. Another doll! Excited, she reached inside and, sure enough, her hand touched cloth. One, no, two dolls! They were stacked on top of each other. As she pulled them out, the opening smoothly slid shut.

  The lavender scent had faded away to nothing, but she barely noticed as she peered at the top doll. It was a bearded male, dressed all in black, and it's expression was so vicious that she quickly laid it on the counter. It held a tiny multi-tipped whip in one hand.

  After placing it carefully on the table near the laundry basket, Amber studied the other doll. It wore some sort of navy uniform, was also male, but had no head. Cautiously, she touched the ancient dark stain that marred the doll's neck and the front of the uniform, and it flaked off in her hand. It looked like dark rust. Or dried blood.

  The thought startled her, and she let the doll slip from her grasp. Idiot! she thought as it tumbled, as if in slow motion, toward the floor. She swooped to catch it, but too late. The shattering porcelain sounded like wind chimes in the distance.

  "Damn!" God, I'm such a klutz! She squatted and put her hand around it, hesitating as she felt something sticky and warm coat her fingers. Fighting back a rush of panic, she lifted the headless doll, revealing a small crimson puddle beneath it. "Oh, God." Paralyzed by shock, she watched hot, thick fluid drip off her fingertips.

  As she stared at the broken doll, its uniform grew dark and damp. Blood! It looked like blood, but it couldn't be. Maintain! she ordered herself as her hands began to tremble. Maintain! No, it couldn't be blood. The twisted girl, Christabel, must have filled the doll with something resembling blood... she must have done it for the shock value. Real blood would be dried up after all these years, it would be nothing but a clump of dark redness.

  Revulsion crawling up her throat, she forced herself to lift one of the china hands. Red fluid oozed sluggishly from a crack across the palm. As she gingerly examined it, half the hand suddenly snapped off. Blood spurted from the opening, spraying hotly across Amber's face, her cheeks, her nose, and into her mouth.

  She heard someone screaming as she hurled the doll across the room. It splatted against the white wall, then slid slowly down to the floor, leaving a broad bloody streak behind it.

  Suddenly, she realized she was the one screaming. She put her hands to her mouth, then saw the blood and pulled them back, staring at them in shock, still screaming, vaguely tasting the unmistakable metal tang of blood in her mouth.

  "Amber! Amber, where are you?" Dimly, she heard her father calling her.

  "DADDY!”

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Body House: 9:31 A.M.

  "DADDY!"

  Hearing his daughter's ragged scream, David left the keys in the open front door and ran toward her voice. She screamed for him again and again as he checked in the kitchen, then the sun porch, panicking in his inability to discern the origin of her voice.

  "AMBER! WHERE ARE YOU?" he yelled as he pounded back through the dining room into the parlor.

  He ran past the laundry room to the bathroom, thinking she was in there. Nothing.

  "DADDY!"

  He heard her voice to the right as he came back into the hall, and glanced at the closed laundry room door.

  "DADDY!"

  "AMBER!" He screamed her name as he grabbed the glass doorknob and tried to turn it. It wouldn't budge. "Amber! Open the door!"

  Her screams turned into hysterical sobbing as she pulled on the knob from the other side. It barely jiggled. "Oh God, oh God, oh God," she moaned between huge, hitching sobs.

  "Get away from the door!" he called. "I'm going to break it down!"

  He backed up ten feet and ran, hitting the door with a strength born of panic. It creaked and groaned, but held. He shoved his shoulder into it as hard as he could, once, twice then, abruptly, the door opened and the force meant for the door sent him flying across the laundry room, bending him over the folding table and knocking the breath from him.

  "Daddy!"

  Panting, he whirled, and saw Amber standing before him, her eyes huge in her blood-soaked face. "My God. You're hurt!"

  Her shoulders shaking with repressed sobs, she shook her head no.

  "The blood."

  "It's... not mine," she said, her voice shaking as badly as her body. "Oh God." She tucked her arms around her stomach and ran for the big sink next to the washer. She turned on the water and bent over, retching.

  David held her while she was sick, pulling her hair back away from her face, then waiting while she rinsed her mouth for what seemed like hours. Finally, she bent over even further and let the water wash the blood from her hands and face. When she righted herself he let go of her hair and pulled paper towels from the roller so that she could dry herself.

  At last, she looked up, her gaze traveling to the door, then back to him. "Don't let it close," she said quietly.

  Nodding, he took the box of detergent and set it in the doorway, then turned to his daughter. "Amber, are you sure you're not hurt?"

  "No, I'm okay. I came home and you weren't here and I decided to do my laundry and I was looking in the cabinets and found this--" She took a small piece of jewelry off the counter and handed it to him. It was exquisite. "Then I smelled Lizzie's perfume--"

  "Lizzie's?" He thought she'd made a mistake.

  "Yes, Lizzie's. The lavender."

  David nodded.

  "And I thought she wanted me to look again so I did and where the pin had been there was a secret latch like in my wardrobe, and it opened. There were two dolls in it. This one.
" She shoved the laundry basket over so he could see the effigy laying behind it.

  As his fingers closed around it, she whispered, "Be careful!"

  "I will," he said, turning the doll over in his hands.

  "Don't drop it," she added.

  "Don't worry." It was a vile-looking thing. Thrusting against its black pants, he could see the outline of a huge erection. "This has to be another of Christabel's creations," he murmured as he carefully set it down. "Amber? Where did the blood come from?"

  "The other doll." She pointed behind him.

  He turned and saw the bloody skid mark on the wall and the dark lump on the floor beneath it. Taking a pen from his pocket he squatted down and pushed at the thing. It reminded him of a dead bird.

  "I dropped it and I when I picked it up, it was bleeding."

  "The doll was bleeding?" David couldn't believe his ears.

  "Then it sprayed all over. It got in my mouth and I threw it." She looked at the floor. "I'm sorry, Daddy."

  "Sorry? What are you sorry for?" He rose and put his arms out to her.

  Immediately, she was in them, burying her face against his chest like she had when he carried her in his arms when she was little. "I'm sorry I dropped the doll. I got scared and threw it."

  "Don't be sorry, kiddo. I would've thrown it too."

  A sick giggle escaped her. "Then I'm sorry Minnie didn't find the stupid dolls."

  He chuckled. "Me too. Can you imagine?" He stroked her wheat-colored hair and waited patiently until she pulled away from him. "Amber? You know that can't really be blood."

  "That's what I thought. That's why I picked it up again even though I saw the stuff. I thought old Christabel had filled it with something gross."

  "You're a smart kid."

  "It's blood, though, Dad."

  "How do you know?"

  "It was hot. And it tasted like blood."

  Chapter Twenty-two