As closing day came nearer, there was a good deal of talk on the telephone between the Phanceys and Mr. Sanguinetti in Troy, and on the eleventh Mrs. Phancey told me casually that she and Jed would be leaving for Troy on the thirteenth and would I mind staying in charge that night and handing over the keys to Mr. Sanguinetti, who would be coming up finally to close the place around noon on the fourteenth?
It seemed a vague sort of arrangement to leave an unknown girl in charge of such a valuable property, but it was explained that the Phanceys would be taking the cash and the register and the stock of food and drinks with them, and all I had to do was switch off the lights and lock up before I went to bed. Mr. Sanguinetti would be coming up with trucks for the rest of the movables the next morning. Then I could be on my way. So I said yes, that would be all right, and Mrs. Phancey beamed and said I was a very good girl, but when I asked if she would give me a reference, she got cagey and said she would have to leave that to Mr. Sanguinetti, but she would make a point of telling him how helpful I had been.
So the last day was spent packing things into their station wagon until the stores and cafeteria were empty of everything except plenty of bacon and eggs and coffee and bread for me and for the truckers to eat when they came up.
That last day I had expected the Phanceys to be rather nice to me. After all, we had got on all right together and I had gone out of my way to be helpful about everything. But, oddly enough, they were just the reverse. Mrs. Phancey ordered me about as if I was a maid, and Jed became tough and nasty in his leching, using filthy words even when his wife was in earshot, and quite openly, reaching for my body whenever he got within range. I couldn’t understand the change. It was as if they had had what they wanted out of me and could now discard me with contempt—and even, it seemed to me, almost with loathing. I got so furious that I finally went to Mrs. Phancey and said I was going and could I have my money? But she just laughed and said, Oh, no. Mr. Sanguinetti would be giving me that. They couldn’t take a chance of the cutlery being short when he came to count it. After this, and rather than face them at supper, I made myself some jam sandwiches and went and locked myself in my cabin and prayed for the morning, when they would be gone. And, as I have said, six o’clock did at last come and I saw the last of the monsters.
And now this was my last night at The Dreamy Pines and tomorrow I would be off again. It had been a slice of life, not totally unpleasant in spite of the Phanceys, and I had learned the fringes of a job that might stand me in good stead. I looked at my watch. It was nine o’clock, and here was the doomful WOKO from Albany with its storm bulletin. The Adirondacks would be clear by midnight. So, with any luck, I would have dry roads in the morning. I went behind the cafeteria bar, turned on the electric cooker, and put out three eggs and six slices of hickory-smoked bacon. I was hungry.
And then came a loud hammering on the door.
Eight: Dynamite from Nightmare-Land
MY heart went to my mouth. Who could it possibly be? And then I remembered. The VACANCY sign! I had pulled the switch when the lightning struck and I had forgotten to turn the damned thing off. What an idiot! The banging started up again. Well, I would just have to face it, apologize, and send the people on to Lake George. I went nervously across to the door, unlocked it, and held it on the chain.
There was no porch. The neon VACANCY sign made a red halo in the sheet of rain and glittered redly on the shiny black oilskins and hoods of the two men. Behind them was a black sedan. The leading man said politely, “Miss Michel?”