Black House (Page 47)
- Page 1
- Page 1
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 2
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 3
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 4
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 5
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 6
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 7
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 8
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 9
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 10
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 11
- Page 11
- Page 12
- Page 12
- Page 12
- Page 13
- Page 13
- Page 13
- Page 14
- Page 14
- Page 14
- Page 15
- Page 15
- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 16
- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 17
- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 18
- Page 18
- Page 19
- Page 19
- Page 19
- Page 20
- Page 20
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 21
- Page 21
- Page 22
- Page 22
- Page 22
- Page 23
- Page 23
- Page 23
- Page 24
- Page 24
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 25
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 26
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 27
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 28
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 29
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 30
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 32
- Page 33
- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 36
- Page 37
- Page 37
- Page 38
- Page 38
- Page 39
- Page 39
- Page 40
- Page 40
- Page 41
- Page 41
- Page 42
- Page 42
- Page 43
- Page 43
- Page 44
- Page 44
- Page 45
- Page 45
- Page 46
- Page 46
- Page 47
- Page 47
- Page 48
- Page 48
- Page 49
- Page 49
- Page 50
- Page 50
- Page 51
- Page 51
- Page 52
- Page 52
- Page 53
- Page 53
- Page 54
- Page 54
- Page 55
- Page 55
- Page 56
- Page 56
- Page 57
- Page 57
- Page 58
- Page 58
- Page 59
- Page 59
- Page 60
- Page 60
- Page 61
- Page 61
- Page 62
- Page 62
- Page 63
- Page 63
- Page 64
- Page 64
- Page 65
- Page 65
- Page 66
- Page 66
- Page 67
- Page 67
- Page 68
- Page 68
- Page 69
- Page 69
- Page 70
- Page 70
- Page 71
- Page 71
- Page 72
- Page 72
- Page 73
- Page 73
- Page 74
- Page 74
- Page 75
- Page 75
- Page 76
- Page 76
- Page 77
- Page 77
- Page 78
- Page 78
- Page 79
- Page 79
- Page 80
- Page 80
- Page 81
- Page 81
- Page 82
- Page 82
- Page 83
- Page 83
- Page 84
- Page 84
- Page 85
- Page 85
- Page 86
- Page 86
- Page 87
- Page 87
- Page 88
- Page 88
- Page 89
- Page 89
- Page 90
- Page 90
- Page 91
- Page 91
- Page 92
- Page 92
- Page 93
- Page 93
- Page 94
- Page 94
- Page 95
- Page 95
- Page 96
- Page 96
- Page 97
- Page 97
- Page 98
- Page 98
- Page 99
- Page 99
- Page 100
- Page 100
- Page 101
- Page 101
- Page 102
- Page 102
- Page 103
- Page 103
- Page 104
- Page 104
- Page 105
- Page 105
- Page 106
- Page 106
- Page 107
- Page 107
- Page 108
- Page 108
- Page 109
- Page 109
- Page 110
- Page 110
- Page 111
- Page 111
- Page 112
- Page 112
- Page 113
- Page 113
- Page 114
- Page 114
- Page 115
- Page 115
- Page 116
- Page 116
- Page 117
- Page 117
- Page 118
- Page 118
- Page 119
- Page 119
- Page 120
- Page 120
- Page 121
- Page 121
- Page 122
- Page 122
- Page 123
- Page 123
- Page 124
- Page 124
- Page 125
- Page 125
- Page 126
- Page 126
- Page 127
- Page 127
- Page 128
- Page 128
- Page 129
- Page 129
- Page 130
- Page 130
- Page 131
- Page 131
- Page 132
- Page 132
- Page 133
- Page 133
- Page 134
- Page 134
- Page 135
- Page 135
- Page 136
- Page 136
- Page 137
- Page 137
- Page 138
- Page 138
- Page 139
- Page 139
- Page 140
- Page 140
- Page 141
- Page 141
- Page 142
- Page 142
- Page 143
- Page 143
- Page 144
- Page 144
- Page 145
- Page 145
- Page 146
- Page 146
- Page 147
- Page 147
- Page 148
- Page 148
- Page 149
- Page 149
- Page 150
- Page 150
- Page 151
- Page 151
- Page 152
- Page 152
- Page 153
- Page 153
- Page 154
- Page 154
- Page 155
- Page 155
- Page 156
- Page 156
- Page 157
- Page 157
- Page 158
- Page 158
- Page 159
- Page 159
- Page 160
- Page 160
- Page 161
- Page 161
- Page 162
- Page 162
- Page 163
- Page 163
- Page 164
- Page 164
- Page 165
- Page 165
- Page 166
- Page 166
- Page 167
- Page 167
- Page 168
- Page 168
- Page 169
- Page 169
- Page 170
- Page 170
- Page 171
- Page 171
- Page 172
- Page 172
- Page 173
- Page 173
- Page 174
- Page 174
- Page 175
- Page 175
- Page 176
- Page 176
- Page 177
- Page 177
- Page 178
- Page 178
- Page 179
- Page 179
- Page 180
- Page 180
- Page 181
- Page 181
- Page 182
- Page 182
- Page 183
- Page 183
- Page 184
- Page 184
- Page 185
- Page 185
- Page 186
- Page 186
- Page 187
- Page 187
- Page 188
- Page 188
- Page 189
- Page 189
- Page 190
- Page 190
- Page 191
- Page 191
- Page 192
- Page 192
- Page 193
- Page 193
- Page 194
- Page 194
- Page 195
- Page 195
- Page 196
- Page 196
- Page 197
- Page 197
- Page 198
- Page 198
- Page 199
- Page 199
- Page 200
- Page 200
- Page 201
- Page 201
- Page 202
- Page 202
- Page 203
- Page 203
- Page 204
- Page 204
- Page 205
- Page 205
- Page 206
- Page 206
- Page 207
- Page 207
- Page 208
- Page 208
- Page 209
- Page 209
- Page 210
- Page 210
- Page 211
- Page 211
- Page 212
- Page 212
- Page 213
- Page 213
- Page 214
- Page 214
- Page 215
- Page 215
- Page 216
- Page 216
- Page 217
- Page 217
- Page 218
- Page 218
- Page 219
- Page 219
- Page 220
- Page 220
- Page 221
- Page 221
- Page 222
- Page 222
- Page 223
- Page 223
- Page 224
- Page 224
- Page 225
- Page 225
- Page 226
- Page 226
- Page 227
- Page 227
- Page 228
- Page 228
- Page 229
- Page 229
Enid had called through one more time, asking if she could come in and make sure Judy wasn’t hurt.
"Go away!" Judy had called back. In the midst of her crying, she’d laughed again — an angry, distracted laugh. "You’re a dream, too. This whole world is a dream." Then there had been the sound of shattering glass, as if she had struck a coffee mug or water tumbler and knocked it to the floor. Or thrown it at the wall.
"I didn’t call the police, because she sounded all right," Enid told Fred (Fred standing with the phone jammed up against one ear and his hand plastered over the other to cut out all the yammering mechanical sounds, which he ordinarily enjoys and which at that moment seemed to go into his head like chrome spikes). "Physically all right, anyway. But Fred . . . I think you ought to go home and check on her."
All of Judy’s recent oddities went through his mind in a whirl. So did Pat Skarda’s words. Mental dysfunction We hear people say "So-and-so snapped," but there are usually signs . . .
And he has seen the signs, hasn’t he?
Seen them and done nothing.
Fred parks his car, a sensible Ford Explorer, in the driveway and hurries up the steps, already calling his wife’s name. There is no answer. Even when he has stepped through the front door (he pushes it open so hard the brass letter slot gives a nonsensical little clack), there is no answer. The air-conditioned interior of the house feels too cold on his skin and he realizes he’s sweating.
"Judy? Jude?"
Still no answer. He hurries down the hall to the kitchen, where he is most apt to find her if he comes home for something in the middle of the day.
The kitchen is sun-washed and empty. The table and the counter are clean; the appliances gleam; two coffee cups have been placed in the dish drainer, winking sun from their freshly washed surfaces. More sun winks from a heap of broken glass in the corner. Fred sees a flower decal on one piece and realizes it was the vase on the windowsill.
"Judy?" he calls again. He can feel the blood hammering in his throat and at his temples.
She doesn’t answer him, but he hears her upstairs, beginning to sing.
"Rock-a-bye baby . . . on the treetop . . . when the wind blows . . ."
Fred recognizes it, and instead of feeling relieved at the sound of her voice, his flesh goes even colder. She used to sing it to Tyler when their son was little. Ty’s lullabye. Fred hasn’t heard that particular ditty come out of her mouth in years.
He goes back down the hall to the stairs, now seeing what he missed on his first trip. The Andrew Wyeth print, Christina’s World, has been taken down and set against the baseboard heater. The wallpaper below the picture hook has been scraped away in several places, revealing the plasterboard beneath. Fred, colder than ever, knows that Judy did this. It isn’t intuition, exactly; not deduction, either. Call it the telepathy of the long married.
Floating down from above, beautiful and on-key yet at the same time perfectly empty: ". . . the cradle will rock. When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall . . ."
Fred is up the stairs two at a time, calling her name.
The upper hall is a scary mess. This is where they have hung the gallery of their past: Fred and Judy outside Madison Shoes, a blues club they sometimes went to when there was nothing interesting going on at the Chocolate Watchband; Fred and Judy dancing the first dance at their wedding reception while their folks happily looked on; Judy in a hospital bed, exhausted but smiling, holding the wrapped bundle that was Ty; the photo of the Marshall family farm that she always sniffed at; more.
Most of these framed photographs have been taken down. Some, like the one of the farm, have been thrown down. Glass litters the hall in sparkling sprays. And she has been at the wallpaper behind half a dozen. In the spot where the picture of Judy and Ty in the hospital had hung, the paper has been torn almost completely away, and he can see where she scraped at the wallboard beneath. Some of the scratches are dappled with drying spots of blood.
"Judy! Judy!"
Tyler’s door stands open. Fred sprints the length of the upstairs hall with glass crunching under his loafers.
". . . and down will come Tyler, cradle and all."
"Judy! Ju — "
He stands in the door, all words temporarily knocked out of him.
Ty’s room looks like the aftermath of a rough search in a detective movie. The drawers have been yanked out of his bureau and lie everywhere, most overturned. The bureau itself has been pulled away from the wall. Summer clothes are spread hell to breakfast — jeans and T-shirts and underwear and white athletic socks. The closet door is open and more clothes have been struck from the hangers; that same spousal telepathy tells him she tore Ty’s slacks and button-up shirts down so she could make sure nothing was behind them. The coat of Tyler’s only suit hangs askew from the closet’s doorknob. His posters have been pulled from the walls; Mark McGwire has been torn in half. In every case but one she has left the wallpaper behind the posters alone, but the one exception is a beaut. Behind the rectangle where the poster of the castle hung (COME BACK TO THE AULD SOD), the wallpaper has been almost entirely stripped away. There are more streaks of blood on the wallboard beneath.
Judy Marshall sits on the bare mattress of her son’s bed. The sheets are heaped in the corner, along with the pillow. The bed itself has been yanked away from the wall. Judy’s head is down. He can’t see her face — her hair is screening it — but she’s wearing shorts and he can see dapples and streaks of blood on her tanned thighs. Her hands are clasped below her knees, out of sight, and Fred is glad. He doesn’t want to see how badly she has hurt herself until he has to. His heart is hammering in his chest, his nervous system is redlining with adrenaline overload, and his mouth tastes like a burnt fuse.
- Page 1
- Page 1
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 2
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 3
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 4
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 5
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 6
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 7
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 8
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 9
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 10
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 11
- Page 11
- Page 12
- Page 12
- Page 12
- Page 13
- Page 13
- Page 13
- Page 14
- Page 14
- Page 14
- Page 15
- Page 15
- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 16
- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 17
- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 18
- Page 18
- Page 19
- Page 19
- Page 19
- Page 20
- Page 20
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 21
- Page 21
- Page 22
- Page 22
- Page 22
- Page 23
- Page 23
- Page 23
- Page 24
- Page 24
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 25
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 26
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 27
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 28
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 29
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 30
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 32
- Page 33
- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 36
- Page 37
- Page 37
- Page 38
- Page 38
- Page 39
- Page 39
- Page 40
- Page 40
- Page 41
- Page 41
- Page 42
- Page 42
- Page 43
- Page 43
- Page 44
- Page 44
- Page 45
- Page 45
- Page 46
- Page 46
- Page 47
- Page 47
- Page 48
- Page 48
- Page 49
- Page 49
- Page 50
- Page 50
- Page 51
- Page 51
- Page 52
- Page 52
- Page 53
- Page 53
- Page 54
- Page 54
- Page 55
- Page 55
- Page 56
- Page 56
- Page 57
- Page 57
- Page 58
- Page 58
- Page 59
- Page 59
- Page 60
- Page 60
- Page 61
- Page 61
- Page 62
- Page 62
- Page 63
- Page 63
- Page 64
- Page 64
- Page 65
- Page 65
- Page 66
- Page 66
- Page 67
- Page 67
- Page 68
- Page 68
- Page 69
- Page 69
- Page 70
- Page 70
- Page 71
- Page 71
- Page 72
- Page 72
- Page 73
- Page 73
- Page 74
- Page 74
- Page 75
- Page 75
- Page 76
- Page 76
- Page 77
- Page 77
- Page 78
- Page 78
- Page 79
- Page 79
- Page 80
- Page 80
- Page 81
- Page 81
- Page 82
- Page 82
- Page 83
- Page 83
- Page 84
- Page 84
- Page 85
- Page 85
- Page 86
- Page 86
- Page 87
- Page 87
- Page 88
- Page 88
- Page 89
- Page 89
- Page 90
- Page 90
- Page 91
- Page 91
- Page 92
- Page 92
- Page 93
- Page 93
- Page 94
- Page 94
- Page 95
- Page 95
- Page 96
- Page 96
- Page 97
- Page 97
- Page 98
- Page 98
- Page 99
- Page 99
- Page 100
- Page 100
- Page 101
- Page 101
- Page 102
- Page 102
- Page 103
- Page 103
- Page 104
- Page 104
- Page 105
- Page 105
- Page 106
- Page 106
- Page 107
- Page 107
- Page 108
- Page 108
- Page 109
- Page 109
- Page 110
- Page 110
- Page 111
- Page 111
- Page 112
- Page 112
- Page 113
- Page 113
- Page 114
- Page 114
- Page 115
- Page 115
- Page 116
- Page 116
- Page 117
- Page 117
- Page 118
- Page 118
- Page 119
- Page 119
- Page 120
- Page 120
- Page 121
- Page 121
- Page 122
- Page 122
- Page 123
- Page 123
- Page 124
- Page 124
- Page 125
- Page 125
- Page 126
- Page 126
- Page 127
- Page 127
- Page 128
- Page 128
- Page 129
- Page 129
- Page 130
- Page 130
- Page 131
- Page 131
- Page 132
- Page 132
- Page 133
- Page 133
- Page 134
- Page 134
- Page 135
- Page 135
- Page 136
- Page 136
- Page 137
- Page 137
- Page 138
- Page 138
- Page 139
- Page 139
- Page 140
- Page 140
- Page 141
- Page 141
- Page 142
- Page 142
- Page 143
- Page 143
- Page 144
- Page 144
- Page 145
- Page 145
- Page 146
- Page 146
- Page 147
- Page 147
- Page 148
- Page 148
- Page 149
- Page 149
- Page 150
- Page 150
- Page 151
- Page 151
- Page 152
- Page 152
- Page 153
- Page 153
- Page 154
- Page 154
- Page 155
- Page 155
- Page 156
- Page 156
- Page 157
- Page 157
- Page 158
- Page 158
- Page 159
- Page 159
- Page 160
- Page 160
- Page 161
- Page 161
- Page 162
- Page 162
- Page 163
- Page 163
- Page 164
- Page 164
- Page 165
- Page 165
- Page 166
- Page 166
- Page 167
- Page 167
- Page 168
- Page 168
- Page 169
- Page 169
- Page 170
- Page 170
- Page 171
- Page 171
- Page 172
- Page 172
- Page 173
- Page 173
- Page 174
- Page 174
- Page 175
- Page 175
- Page 176
- Page 176
- Page 177
- Page 177
- Page 178
- Page 178
- Page 179
- Page 179
- Page 180
- Page 180
- Page 181
- Page 181
- Page 182
- Page 182
- Page 183
- Page 183
- Page 184
- Page 184
- Page 185
- Page 185
- Page 186
- Page 186
- Page 187
- Page 187
- Page 188
- Page 188
- Page 189
- Page 189
- Page 190
- Page 190
- Page 191
- Page 191
- Page 192
- Page 192
- Page 193
- Page 193
- Page 194
- Page 194
- Page 195
- Page 195
- Page 196
- Page 196
- Page 197
- Page 197
- Page 198
- Page 198
- Page 199
- Page 199
- Page 200
- Page 200
- Page 201
- Page 201
- Page 202
- Page 202
- Page 203
- Page 203
- Page 204
- Page 204
- Page 205
- Page 205
- Page 206
- Page 206
- Page 207
- Page 207
- Page 208
- Page 208
- Page 209
- Page 209
- Page 210
- Page 210
- Page 211
- Page 211
- Page 212
- Page 212
- Page 213
- Page 213
- Page 214
- Page 214
- Page 215
- Page 215
- Page 216
- Page 216
- Page 217
- Page 217
- Page 218
- Page 218
- Page 219
- Page 219
- Page 220
- Page 220
- Page 221
- Page 221
- Page 222
- Page 222
- Page 223
- Page 223
- Page 224
- Page 224
- Page 225
- Page 225
- Page 226
- Page 226
- Page 227
- Page 227
- Page 228
- Page 228
- Page 229
- Page 229