Dead End Street Page 9

  David’s own knees began to shake; hair rose on his neck.

  “No,” he whispered.

  At last, the man’s face emerged. He had a blank look in his eyes, and he was grinning at David. The grin didn’t stop the man from continuing to hum as he descended the last few steps. He finally quieted when he reached the bottom.

  He stood and stared at David.

  David thought his heart would stop. His tongue felt big, thick and furry in his mouth. He couldn’t have spoken even if his mind was able to form a cohesive sentence, which right now, it wasn’t.

  The man’s face, even in the darkness, was white as chalk, and looked as dead and rotting as the façade of the house. His eyes were sunken into heavy shadows that hid their color and movement. When he smiled, he revealed two rows of decaying, yellow teeth. A scraggly beard grew on his face and neck, which, in the gloom, looked more like some sort of skin disease than facial hair.

  When the man spoke, his voice sounded dry, as if it didn’t get much use, like sandpaper on sandpaper, whispery. Just like the voice on the tape!

  “You’re David,” he said and took a breath. “I’m Paul Tuttle.”

  David could think of nothing as the man walked closer…closer.

  CHAPTER 9

  Where’s David?

  Marlene bunched her curly dark hair together with one hand, pulling it back into a sort of ponytail, then letting it go. The gesture was one that marked her nervousness; she had done it since she was a child. Marlene had a bad feeling and, while she didn’t put much stock in things like “feelings” or intuition, this one was persistent. It worried her.

  Where was David?

  It was the question that had plagued her and the rest of the group all afternoon after David had left. At first, they had worn smug, satisfied expressions as if saying, “Good riddance. He was getting too arrogant for his own good, anyway.” They had assumed David would go off in his snit, have a good walk or bike ride and come back when he had cooled down. None of them would have been able to even begin to count the number of times it had happened in the past. Why should this be any different?

  But David hadn’t returned…not in an hour, not in three. And as the afternoon shadows lengthened, they became concerned. The “Clue” game they were playing became superfluous. No one was concentrating as they listened for the sound of David’s footfall on the walk outside, or the creak of the door as he opened it. One by one, each began imagining various scenarios for David. None were pretty. Finally, they put away the game without anyone having guessed its room, weapon, or murderer. They were thinking of other rooms, other weapons, and another murderer…all too close to home.

  Finally, the group decided to search for him. Marlene volunteered to see if David had gone home. Now, as she walked down the long path that led away from David’s house, which stood on a hilltop overlooking Summitville and the river, the words of David’s father rang in her ears, giving her an understanding of David she had never had before.

  “No, he ain’t here,” David’s father had said when she asked if David was around. Marlene had never seen the man before, and she hadn’t realized he would look as he did: a short, burly guy with a buzz cut, built like a fireplug, a ruddy face covered with stubble, a panther tattoo on one bulging bicep. He radiated insolence and unkindness.

  For the first time, Marlene wondered what kind of life David led, here alone with this brute of a man who looked as if words like compassion and decency were lost on him.

  “Well, do you know where he is?” Marlene had asked, thinking maybe he’d have some idea since it was getting late. She supposed even men like this one, hard and mean as he looked, might have some concern for his son’s whereabouts.

  The man took a swig from a can of Iron City beer, belched and scratched his head. “I just said I ain’t seen him, didn’t I?” He glared at her, as if challenging her to say something more.

  “That you did.”

  “You one of his girlfriends or something?”

  Marlene had to smile at that one. She received a scowl in return.

  She took a deep breath and replied, “No. I’m one of his friends. We were a little concerned about him.”

  David’s father had shrugged. “He’ll turn up. Always does.” And with that, the guy had closed the door in Marlene’s face. She had been tempted to pound on the door, to shout at this scowling animal that his son could be in trouble, or even danger. Didn’t he care?

  But as she turned to head back down the hill toward the rest of the group, Marlene thought she already knew the answer to that question. She shook her head. Things with her own mother were far from perfect, but at least Marlene knew her mother cared about her, even if it was often in a misguided way.

  At the bottom of the hill, Erin was the first to ask what she had found out. “Is he at home? Is he okay?”

  Marlene shook her head, noticing Roy’s look of annoyance at Erin’s concern. What was happening to the group? No one had ever been jealous before. Were they growing apart?

  “His father says he hasn’t seen him,” Marlene said, then whispered under her breath, “The guy’s a real jerk.”

  “Well, what are we going to do?” Erin looked at the members of the group as if she thought they knew where David was and were hiding it from her. Her brown eyes went from one friend to the other, frantic. Her voice was pitched a little higher, and it wasn’t hard to see Erin was on the verge of panic.

  “He’ll turn up,” Roy said, his reedy voice even more unsteady than usual. He kept casting cautious glances at Erin. It was obvious to everyone how unhappy he was with Erin’s concern for David.

  “What if he doesn’t, Roy?” Erin asked him.

  “We’ve looked everywhere he could possibly be,” Peter said. “We’ve been to the arcade, the park, even over to that comic book store he likes to hang out at sometimes. No one’s seen him.”

  “Tell us something we don’t already know,” Marlene said, feeling like she was echoing one of David’s smart aleck remarks.

  Peter shrugged.

  Marlene, as usual, was the one to state what they were all thinking. “That just leaves one place where he might be.” For some reason, Marlene found she couldn’t go on. If she said the words, they would then be impelled on a course of action and she, for one, wasn’t sure how much she wanted to follow that course.

  Erin closed her eyes and shook her head. “Oh, geez, I hope he didn’t go there.”

  “Go where?” Roy asked and Marlene wondered how he could be so stupid. Then she realized, from the look on his face, that he knew just as well as everyone else where David might be.

  “The Tuttle house, bright boy,” Marlene said.

  Erin began chewing her fingernails. “If he went there after he left my house, that means he’s been there all afternoon. All afternoon! What could have happened to him in all that time?” Her question hung in the air, like a bad smell.

  The group fell silent, and Marlene was sure each of them was facing his or her own private horror after thinking about what several hours alone in the Tuttle house might mean. Despite her own bleak thoughts, she tried to be the voice of reason. “Okay, so maybe I’m wrong, and he’s not there at all. I mean, yes, he wasn’t at any of his usual hangouts, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t go see a movie or maybe just decided to hang out at the mall.”

  “David? At the mall?” Peter asked, amazed.

  Marlene reddened at her own stupidity. “So?” she said, feeling a sheepish grin spreading across her face. “He has to buy clothes and stuff just like the rest of us.”

  “You even believe that?” Peter asked.

  “No.” Marlene began playing with her hair again, bunching it behind her, squeezing the curls into some kind of shape, then letting them go. She was silent for a moment, then said, “No, I’m thinking he really did go to the Tuttle house.”

  “This whole Tuttle house thing has been a dumb idea.” Erin looked at Peter. “I knew it from the start. Stupid, stupid, s
tupid. We could all end up really sorry.”

  Peter recoiled as if he’d been hit, flinching from Erin’s accusatory words.

  “Hey! Hey…the Halloween Horror Club was something we all agreed to,” Marlene said. “I, for one, didn’t think there’d be any harm in it. And neither did the rest of us, or we wouldn’t have set foot in that house in the first place, right? It’s not going to do any good blaming each other. What’s important now is that we find out what happened to David.”

  “Yeah,” Pete said. “And just because he hasn’t turned up, yet, doesn’t mean squat. He could be fine.”

  “He’s probably fine,” Marlene said. “Let’s not panic.”

  “Right.” Roy seconded Marlene, looking at Erin all the while.

  No one said anything for several minutes. It had turned cold; frost was expected that night. A cold breeze that spoke of approaching winter blew up from the north, lifting the edges of their jackets, their hair.

  “We’ve got to do it, you know,” Marlene finally said, giving voice to what they were all thinking.

  Erin became absorbed in a pebble in the grass, moving it around with her foot. “I wish we didn’t have to go back in there.”

  Marlene said, “C’mon, this is David we’re talking about here. He’s our friend.”

  “I know that,” Erin snapped. “I just wish we didn’t have to go back there. That’s all. I wasn’t suggesting we not go.”

  “I think we all feel that way,” Pete said. “Who wants to be in that house at night?”

  “Maybe we should get one of our parents to go with us,” Roy said.

  Marlene shook her head, imagining her mother trying to climb the hill to the Tuttle house. She wouldn’t make it halfway. “We can’t do that.”

  “But it’s dangerous,” Erin said.

  “Safety in numbers, right?” Marlene answered. “It won’t take long to check out things.” Marlene hoped she wasn’t leading her friends into a trap…hoped that, for once, her voice of reason was just that.

  Roy spoke up, but his words had an edge of reluctance to them. “Let’s stop at my place first. My dad’s got some pretty high-powered flashlights.”

  “We can sure use those,” Erin said, finally making Roy smile.

  “Let’s go,” Marlene urged. “We don’t have time to waste.”

  CHAPTER 10

  Paul’s Tale

  Paul Tuttle stopped within a couple of feet of David. David stared up at him, his mind racing. Paul Tuttle. Could it really be? The experience of having Paul in front of him, close enough to touch, was so bizarre as to make the man almost seem to be a hallucination. But with dread in his heart, David knew this was no fantasy. This was a real, breathing man, and one who didn’t look too happy to see him.

  David’s heart pounded. A nauseous feeling of terror rose up in him. He wanted to rub the goose bumps on his arms and wipe away the sweat running down his face, but still he was unable to move.

  If this was Paul Tuttle, was this the end of the line for David? Would his last moments be spent trying to fend off an ax whistling through the air? Would a rusty blade flying toward his head be the last thing he saw?

  Again, David had to tell himself that Paul Tuttle was no hallucination. As weird as this scene was, there was about the man all the earmarks of reality. David could smell his fetid breath, like old cheese, and hear his ragged breathing, as if the man had just run a long distance. His body smelled, too, and David was afraid if the man got any closer, David would throw up. Sour sweat permeated the man’s being, surrounding him like a cloud.

  Now that David was nearer to Tuttle, the boy could make out the man’s features a little better. Paul’s skin was so pale, blue veins stood out beneath, even in the darkness. Dark shadows surrounded his eyes. The whites were yellow, milky, suspending two pale green irises, which in turn held two dark pupils, dilated to see better in the dark.

  Out of nowhere, David thought of the book he had just read for Mrs. Springer’s English class, To Kill a Mockingbird, and how this guy reminded him of Boo Radley. Except Boo Radley, in spite of the rumors about him, had turned out to be shy and kind. David didn’t think that was the case with the man standing before him.

  When David could finally organize his brain enough to speak, he asked, “What do you want?” His voice came out barely above a whisper, dry and shaky. He wanted to back away slowly, but his feet would not do his bidding. Was this frozen sensation what shock felt like?

  Paul Tuttle smiled. “I don’t want to hurt you, if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

  “Th-that’s good,” David said, finally able to get his feet to move just a little toward the door. If he could get close enough, he was sure he could make it over the threshold and away from this guy. David knew Paul Tuttle would be no contest for him in a chase.

  “Going somewhere?”

  David swallowed hard. “I think I’d like to go now, if you don’t mind.” He tried to smile, but was sure it came out sickly and weak.

  Paul laughed. “If I don’t mind? It doesn’t seem like you and your friends cared much about anyone minding when you decided to use my house for your little story-telling club.”

  David didn’t know what to say as he scanned the darkness for help that wasn’t there. Suddenly he missed the comfort of Erin, Roy, Marlene, and Peter very much. It was stupid, stupid, stupid of him to come back up here by himself. He gulped and said, “I’m sorry, sir. We really didn’t know there was anyone in the house.”

  “I tried to give you hints.”

  David was beginning to tremble. Why did he have to answer for everything? Why was it left up to him to explain to this monster, this ax-murderer—or whatever he was—why they were in his house, why they ignored his warnings? On the other hand, those warnings, viewed in retrospect, seemed clear enough. Why hadn’t they heeded them?

  “I especially tried to give you hints, David. You, of all of them, knew there was something more than normal going on here. Didn’t you? Why did you come back? Why did you bring the others? Got a thing for danger?” Grinning, Paul took a step closer and David noticed how long his fingernails were, caked underneath with grime.

  “Look! I don’t want any trouble! Just let me go now and I won’t tell a soul I ever saw you. And I promise we won’t ever come back here. I give you my word, man. Please…just let me go.” David’s voice rose with terror, and he was afraid he was going to cry, which for David would be the ultimate humiliation.

  Paul smiled. “I’m not making you stay here. I’m not even worried about you telling people you saw me, ’cause I doubt if anyone’d believe you. I know I’m like a scary story in this town…a legend, if you will. People would be about as likely to believe you as they would if you said you saw Count Dracula up here.”

  “Then I can go?”

  With one of his long, pale fingers, Paul pointed toward the door. “There’s the way out. Go.”

  Something rooted David to his spot. And a curious thing began to happen. He noticed that the more Paul Tuttle talked, the less afraid he, himself, became. His breathing slowed, his heart began returning to a normal beat, and the trembling ebbed from his muscles. Paul Tuttle, after all, was just a man.

  Okay, a man who may have murdered his whole family. David felt a shiver run through his body. Perhaps he wasn’t so calm, after all.

  “Well? Aren’t you going to leave?”

  David tried to meet Paul’s gaze, but found it hard to do. The man’s eyes darted restlessly about the dark room, and David realized something huge. Paul Tuttle was scared, too. His terror could be seen in the stiff way he held himself, the way his rheumy eyes flashed about in the darkness, the way his breath was just a little too fast.

  David summoned up all of his courage, trying to deepen his voice as he asked the question he knew he couldn’t leave without asking: “Did you do it?”

  A change came over Paul Tuttle’s face, his eyes glistening in the darkness. David wondered what caused the change. Was it even more fe
ar? Or worse, was it a man relishing a very private and precious memory?

  “Do you really want to know?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then promise me one thing.”

  “Okay. If I can.” David wondered what the man would want in return. He also wondered why he was hanging around, still trying to be the tough guy when the older man had told him he could leave.

  Paul neared him, close enough so that David could make out the individual hairs on Paul’s face, close enough so that he was almost overwhelmed by the stench rising from the man’s breath and pores. “Promise me you’ll believe me.”

  David looked at Paul Tuttle, surprised to see the intensity in his eyes, the passion behind his words.

  “I will, Paul. I’ll believe what you tell me.” And David knew that whatever Paul Tuttle said would be the truth. He had nothing more to go on than the man’s fervor and a gut feeling, but David knew, deep down inside, that Paul Tuttle wouldn’t lie.

  * * *

  “I was fifteen years old. About your age, I suppose. This house isn’t anything like it was back then.”

  As Paul began pulling his tale out of memory and weaving it together, he made his past come alive, creating strong word pictures. David almost stopped hearing the raspy, dry voice, quivering with nostalgia, and began to see the home, the other people in the family, everything. It all played out in his mind like a movie.

  There was the house. White clapboard with green shutters. The front door, painted green, had three diamond-shaped panes in it. A brass knocker was mounted below the windows. The whole place was neat: the lawn raked, the trees vibrant with yellow, red, and brown towering over the house, complementing rather than obscuring it.

  “Dad always took a lot of pride in the house. He loved the fact that we were the only ones here at the end of the road, and that the house stood, like a sentinel, on the hill above the house. If you were down in the valley, you could look up and see us. Dad always made sure there was never a branch out of place, never a shrub that wanted for trimming, or a blade of grass looking as if it needed cutting.” Paul laughed, a sound that seemed more like a dry and bitter snort. “It was so unlike what you see here now as to be a different place entirely.”