Page 94

whispering to Bart, your son, that I used my 'feminine wiles' to cajole my father into disinheriting the only man who was his friend, his best confidant."

Grandmother began to cry then. I shriveled up tight, hurting deep inside from all I was finding out. Malcolm, were you evil too? Who was Ito trust now? Was John Amos just as conniving with his "masculine wiles" as my granny was with her feminine ones? Was everybody just as wicked as my granny and momma? Was God on my side, on her side, or John's?

"Momma, are you still there, Momma?"

"Yes, darling, I'm still here. I'll stay and take care of you as I never took care of you before. This time I'll be the mother I should have been before. This time I'll save you and Chris."

"Who are you?" demanded my mother, bolting up again and shoving my grandmother away. "Oh!" she screamed, "it's you! You weren't satisfied just to kill Cory and Carrie, now you've come back to kill me too. Then you'll have Chris all to yourself, all yours, all yours," she broke then and cried; then she began to scream like she was crazy, shrieking out over and over again how much she hated her mother. "Why don't you die, Corrine Foxworth--why don't you die?"

Went away. Couldn't stand anymore of that. They were both evil.

But why was this hurting so much?

Detective

. Just as Dad and I had planned, early the next morning Dad drove me off toward school, then he let me out on the road that led to our house. "Now take it easy, Jory. Don't do anything that will endanger your life, and don't let Bart or that butler know what you're up to--they could be dangerous, remember that." He hugged me close, as if afraid I might be foolhardy. "Listen carefully to me now. I'm going to see Bart's psychiatrist this morning so I can

tell him what has happened. Then I'm checking the airports to see if my mother has flown anywhere, though God knows that's not likely. But for both women to disappear in the same day is just too much of a coincidence."

I had to say it. As much as I dreaded hearing the words come from my own lips, I had to speak. "Dad, have you considered that Bart might have . . . well, you know. Clover was strangled with wire. Apple was starved and then stabbed with a pitchfork. Who knows what he might do next?"

He patted my shoulder. "Yes, of course I've thought of that. But I can't picture Bart overcoming your mother. She's very strong even if she does have a cold. That's what worries me most, Jory. She had a temperature of one hundred, and fevers do make a person weaker. I should have stayed home to take care of her. A woman is a fool to marry a doctor," he concluded bitterly, as if he'd forgotten I was there. And all the while his motor was purring softly. He bowed his head down on his hands that held the steering wheel.

"Dad . . . you go on and do what you can to check the airlines. I'll handle everything here." And I added with a big burst of overconfidence, "And remember-- Madame M. is here. And you know how she is. Bart won't pull anything with her around."

Smiling, as if I'd given him the assurance he needed, he waved goodbye, and drove off, leaving me standing there and wondering just what to do. The fierce rain of yesterday had dwindled to a slow drizzle that was miserable and cold, but not wild.

Home again, and I was hiding behind the shrubbery all wet and dripping, as Bart sat in the kitchen and refused to eat his breakfast. "Hate everything you cook," he said sullenly. It was surprising to hear his voice coming to me so clearly. Then I smiled, not feeling spooked as I had before. It was the intercom system, left on. Often delivery men came to our back door rather than use the special drive that circled the front. Our breakfast nook wasn't too far from the panel on the wall with dozens of buttons. I remembered when our house was being constructed how Mom had wanted "music in every room--so housework won't seem such a bore." Then came Madame's strident voice. "Bart, what's wrong with your cereal?"

"Don't like cereal with raisins."

"Then don't eat the raisins."

"They get in the way."

"Nonsense. If you don't eat breakfast, then you

won't eat lunch either. And if you don't eat lunch, there will be no dinner--and one ten-year-old boy is going to bed very hungry!"

"You can't starve me to death!" Bart shrieked. "This is my house! You don't belong here! You get out!"

"I will NOT get out. I am staying until your mother returns safely. And don't you dare raise your voice to me again or I might turn you over my knee and paddle your behind until you scream for mercy!"

"It won't hurt," he jeered --and it wouldn't. Spankings never bothered Bart who had skin with no surface nerve endings.

"Thank you for telling me," said Madame with great aplomb. "I will then think of a better punishment -- such as keeping you indoors, locked in your room."

By this time I was peering in a window. There sat Bart with a secret smile on his face.

"Emma," ordered Madame, "take Bart's plate away, take his bowl, his orange juice too. Bart--go straight to your room and don't let me hear another word out of you until you can come to this table and eat your meals without complaints."

"Witch, old black witch come to live in our house," Bart chanted as he ambled away. But he didn't go to his room. He bolted out of the garage door when Madame wasn't looking, and from there he headed toward the garden wall, and the old oak tree he could climb to take him over the wall.

I ran as fast as I could, following him. But once I was inside the mansion I lost sight of him. Where had Bart gone? I stared right and left, looked behind me, turned around slowly. Had he disappeared up the stairs or down into the cellar? I hated this house with its maze of long corridors, with so many niches between the walls where Mom could be hidden. Usually a builder used the leftover spaces to make closets or put in shelves. But this one, I knew for a fact, had secret doors, only I'd already searched all the secret rooms. Useless to look in them again.

Suddenly I heard a footfall. Bart was right behind me. He looked right through me, his eyes glazed as he stared bleakly at nothing. I couldn't believe he didn't see me.

I followed silently, believing he'd take me to where Mom and her mother were hidden.