The Von Bucati Mansion
By Dan Watt
Author of the e-books Ruby Queen and Sylvia on Kobo.com; and e-books Lucy and the Snivel Chair, DRAGON: The Emerald Of Light on Amazon.com
We could argue over what horror is. The effects of war, murder, torture, however, I think I’ll go with the Anne Rice idea of using preternatural individuals. Do you believe poltergeist exist or do they exist only in our imagination?
Cont. (Blog 6)
We walk to Janet’s 2018 graphite grey 228i BMW coupe. “How long has Richard been your client?” she asks, slipping on her sunglasses.
I gulp and clench onto the wallet tighter. After I put the money in I took out his licence. I read on the card that Richard is forty-nine years of age and 2.04 meters or six foot seven inches. “Not long,” I say adjusting her passenger seat back. “Shouldn’t I drive?” I ask.
“Because you’re a cool mucho macho man?”
I run my hands through my hair. “That’s correct.” I feel like an idiot sitting in the passenger side of her car. “Because of client confidentiality I need you to stay in the car. It would be better if he saw me getting outside of the driver’s side.”
“Oh, I’m coming with you. After you screwed up Gerald Hine’s case I want to make sure you can give back a wallet properly.”
I turn my head so she can’t see me snarl. I should have taken the cash and left the wallet in the cart, or another one, or thrown it in the dumpster right away. Richard better be thankful.
“We’re here,” she says pulling into the parking lot of a red brick condo building on Oxley Street.
I whip out of her car and dash towards the entranceway. Before she catches up I punch 401 on the key pad inside.
“Yes,” a man’s voice booms out of the speaker.
“I found your wallet,” I blurt out. Janet is almost to the door so I grab the handle so she can’t come in.
“I’ll be down–,” he starts to say when I interrupt him.
“I’ll bring it up!” I shout. Janet is screaming at me now. I hear the main entrance door’s lock unlatch. I let go the outside door, grab the inside door and swing myself around before slamming it closed. With a wink at Janet I head towards the elevators.
I walk down a plush hall of scarlet coloured carpeting and egg white walls to door 401 and push the buzzard.
He’s enormous and dressed in a black t-shirt with the skull and crossbones crest of the Caribbean on the upper left and khaki cargo shorts. I can’t believe the size of his hands! They are inhumanely wide and thick, even for a man his size. And unlike the rest of his pale pink body, his hands are tanned like someone from the Middle East. Not good! Janet is storming down the hallway towards me. I hand the wallet towards Richard. He’s staring at me in terror as he takes it back.
“It’s not time yet—is it?” he asks, stepping farther back into his condo.
“What?” I ask.
“You’re from the Bucati family.”
“No, I represent them.”
“I know those eyes.” He starts to close the door. “They look just like hers.” I hear the snap of numerous bolt locks.