The Horror of the Crowford Empire Page 15
Chapter Thirty
By the time Susan reached the drawing room, she could hear several of the men laughing inside. The door had been left slightly ajar, and she hesitated for a moment as she heard glasses clinking and voices chattering away.
“I spoke to Vivian Grace this afternoon,” Roger Bell was saying, “and she's ready to move ahead with the plan. I must say, that woman has a good head on her shoulders, she reminds me a great deal of her late father. At least one of those sisters knows how to run a business.”
“So it's settled, then?” another man asked.
“Doesn't this strike anyone else as rather irritating?” a third man added. “We're essentially doing the same thing that was done thirty years ago. Shouldn't we have a less troublesome strategy by now?”
“Perhaps,” Roger replied, “but evidently that cinema is determined to cling on. We've tried some subtle nudges, and so far nothing has worked. It's time to settle the matter once and for all. The Crowford Empire is on its last legs, it's not as if we're going to be destroying a thriving business. We're just going to... ease it on its way a little.”
Feeling a flicker of fear in her chest, Susan realized that the men were clearly discussing something that she wasn't supposed to overhear.
“I knew that rabble wouldn't do much last year,” another voice said. “I told you all, hiring a bunch of hoodlums to cause trouble at the cinema was never going to get it closed down.”
“The old guy did drop dead of a heart attack as a result.”
“Yes, and we all thought the cinema would keel over as soon as he did. Look how that worked out.”
Shocked, Susan realized that the marauding gang the previous year had apparently been paid to disrupt the cinema.
“We did our best,” another voice said, and she realized that she recognized Charlie Evans, the guy who'd briefly dated Angie. “Let's stop arguing about the past, and let's focus instead on what we're going to do for the future. Vivian Grace is right, a bingo hall would likely make far more money. We need to think about how we push the economy of the whole town forward in a way that gives us a good return. Plus, the plebs'll flock to the place, so it's a win-win for everyone.”
All the voices murmured their agreement. Susan began to turn to walk away, but at that moment she felt the presence once again seething in her bones.
“Listen to them,” the voice in her head snarled. “Some of those men are the same ones who had the music hall burned down thirty years ago. Now they want to do the exact same thing to the cinema.”
“I'll tell the police and -”
“Don't be naive! The police won't do a thing!”
Again, Susan tried to leave, but she was instantly snapped back into position.
“I burned to death in those flames,” the voice continued. “By the time I realized what was happening, there was no way out. I know they didn't mean for anyone to get trapped in the place, but that doesn't excuse them. I've waited all these years to make them pay, I had to get stronger and I had to find someone who could serve me. I'm sorry that you have to be the one, but I hope you can console yourself with the thought that at least you'll be taking a stand against the evil that festers in this town.”
“Please,” Susan whispered, “I -”
Before she could finish, her body lurched forward, pushing the door open. She almost fell, but she just about managed to remain upright and she was able to keep the plates from sliding off the trays.
“Ah, there she is,” Roger said with a broad grin. “Susan Jones, isn't it? Yes, I'm very good with names. Susan Jones, please bring those refreshments over. We're all dying of starvation here.”
After taking a moment to settle her nerves, Susan began to make her way across the room. She still wanted to run, but she'd accepted now that the voice in her head would never let that happen. Instead, she began to set the plates down on the table, even as the various men ogled her. Glancing at Charlie, she felt a ripple of genuine hatred as she realized that he and his buddies had been the ones responsible for Harry's death, and that they'd been paid to trash the cinema that night. She had to force herself to keep from lunging at him.
“That's right,” the voice in her head said calmly, “feel the same anger that I feel.”
“I need to find something in the office,” Roger said suddenly. “Susan Jones, I'd like you to come and help me with a very important matter.”
“Here we go,” one of the men chuckled, and several of the others began to laugh.
“Calm your fetid minds!” Roger roared, and then he too began to grin from ear to ear. “I merely require some assistance from this lovely young lady, and I very much hope that she'll be willing to oblige.” He turned to her. “You wouldn't turn an old fellow down, would you?”
“She can always stay in here and entertain us,” Charlie said with a grin.
“Please ignore my associates,” Roger added. “Their minds, alas, reside permanently in the gutter.”
“I'd be happy to help in any way that I can, Sir,” Susan told Roger, and she felt a flicker of steely determination in her chest, just enough to let her know that she'd made the right choice.
“Dear me,” Roger muttered, struggling somewhat to haul himself up from his chair, “I'm certainly getting on these days. My knees aren't what they used to be.”
“All the more reason to not exert yourself,” Charlie suggested, still eyeing Susan.
“Come along, young lady,” Roger said, gesturing for him to follow as he began to slowly make his way toward a door at the far end of the drawing room. “Let's leave these young bucks to their rakish jokes, and you can help me with a few things through here.”
“I can think of one thing he wants help with,” Charlie said to the man next to him, and then the others all began to laugh.
Trying to ignore them, Susan made her way around the table, although she flinched as Charlie suddenly reached over and slapped her hard on the rear. She froze for a moment and almost turned to slap him, but at the last moment she realized that she didn't want to give him the satisfaction. Instead, she set off again after Roger.
“Nice try,” one of the men said to Charlie, “but next time, I think you'll have to do it even harder.”
Reaching the door to the little office, Susan saw that Roger had just about made it to the desk, where he'd stopped to examine some papers.
“Come in,” he muttered, waving at her. “Shut the door.”
Susan hesitated, before stepping into the room and carefully bumping the door shut. Now that the sound of the other men was muffled, she began to note the calm quiet of the office, although after a few seconds she realized that the voice in her head was stirring once more.
“Look at him,” the voice said, dripping with hatred as Roger continued to look at the papers. “Thirty years on, and time hasn't been very kind to him. He's old now, and infirm. I remember when he was a young fool who came to the music hall. He's far from the only one who has to pay for what happened, but I think it's appropriate that he should be the first. And I want him to know exactly who's responsible.”
Looking down, Susan saw that her right hand was reaching for the knife on the tray. Trying not to panic, she quickly set the tray down and took a step away, but at that moment the pain once again flickered in her skull.
“You can't back down now,” the voice told her. “I'm sorry, but I haven't come this far just to be stopped by a last-minute pang of conscience.”
“Please,” Susan whispered, “I -”
“I burned to death because of this man and his friends!” the voice sneered. “I still remember what it was like to feel the flames ripping through my body. I was blinded within seconds, but the pain went on and on, I thought it was never going to stop.”
Susan shook her head.
“It's fine,” the voice continued, “you don't need to understand.”
This time, Susan was unable to stop her hand as it reached over and picked up the knife.
“By the
end of tonight,” the voice explained, “everyone responsible for that fire will be dead. And they'll never have the chance to start another.”
“Come on over and give an old chap a hand, will you?” Roger called out, not even turning to look at her. “Come on, hurry up, I haven't got all evening!”
“You heard the man,” the voice said. “We've got to hurry. He's only the first of our targets.”
Before she could stop herself, Susan began to walk up behind Roger, and to her horror she realized that she was slowly raising the knife in her right hand.
Chapter Thirty-One
“You know,” Roger said, as he stepped around the desk, wincing at the pain in his knees, “I've had my eye on you all evening, Susan Jones. I think you and I could come to a rather interesting mutually beneficial agreement.”
As he turned to her, Susan managed to hide the knife behind her back.
“What do you want from life, Susan Jones?” Roger continued. “I'm a powerful man around these parts, I have the ability to make dreams come true. Are you aware of how many small businesses in Crowford exist because I helped them get started? You seem live a clever girl and I'm sure you have plans and dreams.” He eased himself down into the leather chair. “My help is at your disposal. All we need to do is determine what you'll give me in return.”
Still holding the knife out of sight, Susan could feel her hand trying to move against her will.
“The year is 1966,” Roger pointed out, “and times are changing fast. Who's that fellow that all you young people like these days? Dylan, that's the one. He has a song about it, doesn't he? Anyway, my point is that the world now is more free than it ever was. Back in my day, one traded money and resources, but now people trade almost anything.” He looked her up and down again. “I'm rich in some regards,” he continued, “and so very poor in others. And you, it seems to me, are rich in the areas where I am poor, and poor in the areas where I am rich.”
“I don't entirely know what you mean, Sir,” she replied, as she struggled to keep the knife hidden.
“Do it,” the voice whispered in her head. “Split his heart open! Make him suffer!”
“I could set you up with a nice little shop,” he explained, “selling... well, whatever you like, really. That's the fun part for you. And in return, you simply have to think of something you can offer me, something that you think I might need. Or enjoy.”
Swallowing hard, Susan realized she could once again feel the pain in the side of her head.
“He's disgusting,” the voice sneered. “You'll be doing the world a favor by getting rid of him. This town needs to be cleansed of the evil that thrives at its core. Almost all of that evil is gathered here tonight, just waiting for one good person to change the fate of Crowford forever. If these fools are allowed to continue, this town will be dead within a hundred years. You, however, can take matters into your own hands.”
“Please,” Susan said through gritted teeth, “just... no...”
“I'm sorry, what was that?” Roger asked, leaning forward and cupping a hand around his right ear. “You'll have to speak up. I'm a trifle deaf.”
“Do it!” the voice snapped. “Kill him!”
“Here's an idea,” Roger said, patting his knees, “why don't you come and sit on my lap and think about my little proposition, eh? You might be inspired to come up with a few ideas.”
Although she hated the idea of going near him, Susan began to make her way around the desk, while keeping the knife hidden behind her back. She could feel the woman's anger rising through her chest, and she was starting to realize that she couldn't hope to hold it back forever; at best, she could only delay its eruption, and already her right hand was starting to tighten its grip on the knife's handle, while her gaze had slipped down to look at the old man's chest.
“That's right,” Roger told her, “I think you're starting to understand, aren't you? I knew you had it in you.”
Stopping next to him, Susan felt as if she was about to lose control at any moment. She knew that when that happened, Winifred Thorpe was going to take complete possession of her body and enact her plan for revenge. Although she understood why Winifred was so determined to kill everyone she blamed for her death, Susan still couldn't bring herself to accept that anyone else had to die.
“Don't be shy,” Roger said with a leering grin, as he reached out toward her. His warm hands pressed against her belly and then began to move up her body. “Now, why don't you tell me what kind of little shop you'd like to open?”
“I won't do it,” she sneered through gritted teeth, staring down at him.
“I'm sorry?” he replied.
“Kill him!” Winifred's voice screamed.
“No!” Susan yelled, suddenly turning and running, racing back across the office and pulling the door open.
“Where are you going?” Roger called after her. “You stupid little bitch, what's wrong with you?”
“Here she is!” one of the men at the table roared as Susan ran past. “Hey, Roger, you've put a bit of a spring in her step, haven't you? Did you give her a nasty scare?”
As soon as she was out in the corridor, Susan looked down at the knife in her right hand. She had no idea whether anyone had seen what she'd been about to do, but the pain in her head was getting stronger and she knew she had to get far away from the clubhouse before Winifred managed to take full control of her body.
“What's wrong with you?” the voice in her head snapped. “He should be dead by now!”
Trying to ignore those words, Susan ran through into the kitchen, only to slam straight into Angie.
“Whoa, watch where you're going,” Angie replied, before spotting the knife. “Hey, are you okay? Susie, sweetie, talk to me.”
“Did you know?” Susan stammered, as fresh tears filled her eyes.
“Did I know what?” Angie asked.
“Did you know they were paid?” Susan shouted, before taking a step back. “Charlie and his friends were given money to go and trash the cinema last year.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Were you paid too?” Susan asked, shocked by a profound sense of betrayal. “Was it all just words when you apologized?”
“I genuinely don't know what you mean,” Angie replied. “I didn't know anyone got paid for that night. Are you sure you haven't got the wrong end of the stick?”
“They killed Harry!” Susan sobbed, even as she felt the pain spreading through her head.
“What are you doing with that knife?” Angie asked. “Listen, I don't know what's freaked you out, but we can deal with this. Let's just go and sit down somewhere, yeah?”
She reached out and touched Susan's arm.
“You don't understand,” Susan said, pulling away, before hearing voices in the distance and realizing that some of the men were on their way to search for her. Looking back down at the knife in her hand, she knew that she couldn't be trusted around anyone. “She's inside me,” she continued, turning to Angie. “I don't know how, but she's inside me and I can't get her out. She's trying to control me.”
“Okay, now you're scaring me,” Angie told her. “Let's take this nice and slow.”
“You don't get it!” Susan screamed, backing away until she bumped against the wall. “I think she's been in here for a long time, long than I ever knew, and she's been building up to this moment. She wants to use me to get revenge.”
“Susie...”
“She wants me to kill them all!” Susan shouted. “And the thing is, I don't know that I can stop her, not forever. She's going to make me do it!”
Spotting movement at the end of the corridor, she saw several men stepping into view. Instinctively, terrified that she might hurt them, she ran at Angie and pushed her away before pulling the kitchen door shut and sliding the bolt across.
“Let me in!” Angie called out to her, as she started banging on the door. “Susie, you're really freaking me out right now. Whatever's going on, I can help you, but
you have to let me in! Please, you're like a sister to me, there's nothing I wouldn't do for you. Just let me try!”
“No-one can help me,” Susan sobbed, taking a step back and then turning to run, “I'm -”
Suddenly she bumped straight into Mrs. Chalfont. Startled, she looked down at the knife, and as she pulled it away she accidentally slashed the blade against the older woman's arm.
“What are you doing?” Mrs. Chalfont gasped, pulling away and clutching her arm as blood ran from the wound. “Have you completely lost your mind?”
“I'm sorry,” Susan stammered, before turning and racing across the kitchen, determined to get away from everyone. “I can't help it! I'm going to stop her somehow!”
Chapter Thirty-Two
“Get back there and finish them all!” Winifred's voice sneered in Susan's head as she stumbled through into the darkened pantry. “You don't have much time!”
“I'm not a killer,” Susan whimpered, trying to find a way out. “I won't let you turn me into one!”
“I've prepared you for this moment,” Winifred continued. “Do you have any idea how long I've been with you? I've molded you so that you're capable of doing this, I've worked so hard on you, and I won't let you fail me now.”
Trying to ignore her, Susan hurried around the next corner, only to slam into a set of shelves. Letting out a pained gasp, she hurried on, desperately seeing a door.
“I've tried being kind to you,” Winifred told her, “but obviously that isn't going to work. I suppose it's time to go with the other option.”
Suddenly an immense wave of pain broke through Susan's head, just as she reached a door at the pantry's far end. She clattered to the floor and tried immediately to get back up, but the pain was much stronger than anything else she'd ever felt before. She could hear voices shouting in the distance, and someone banging on another door, and a rumble of thunder outside, but for a moment the pain seemed to be coursing through her body as a series of vast pulses.
“Obey me,” Winifred's voice said firmly, “or this is how you'll die. Alone, and in agony, and with no-one left to help you.”