Read Online The Hellfire Club by Peter Straub - Free Book Online
Authors: Peter Straub
Tags: Fiction
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experimented with her hair, letting it grow to her shoulders, cropping it, streaking it, bleaching it to a brighter blond. A longer-haired Natalie smiled out from a deck chair, leaned against the rail of a cruise ship, at the center of a group of grinning, white-haired former teachers and salesclerks in shorts and T-shirts.
Some drug addict,
Nora thought. She moved on to a series of photographs of Natalie in a peach-colored bathing suit lined up, some of them separated by wide gaps, at the bottom of the corkboard. They had been taken in the master bedroom, and Natalie was perched on the bed with her hands behind her back. Uncomfortably aware of Holly Fenn looming in the doorway, she saw what Natalie was wearing. The bathing suit was one of those undergarments which women never bought for themselves and could be worn only in a bedroom. Nora did not even know what they were called. Natalie’s clutched her breasts, squeezed her waist, and flared at her hips. A profusion of straps and buttons made her look like a lecher’s Christmas present. Nora looked more closely at the glint of a bracelet behind Natalie’s back and saw the unmistakable steel curve of handcuffs.
She suppressed her dismay and stepped toward Fenn. “Probably this looks wildly degenerate to you,” he said.
“What does it look like to you?”
“Harmless fun and games.” He moved aside, and she walked out into the hall.
“Harmless?”
Nora turned toward the bedroom, thinking that maybe the Chancels had a point after all, and secrets should stay secret. Murder stripped you bare, exposed you to pitiless judgment. What you thought you shared with one other person was . . . She stopped walking.
“Think of something?”
She turned around. “A man took those pictures.”
“Kind of a waste if her sister took them.”
“But there aren’t any pictures of him.”
“That’s right.”
“Do you think there ever were?”
“You mean, do I think that at some point he was on the bed and she was holding the camera? I think something like that probably happened, sure. I took your picture, now you take mine. What happened to the pictures of the man?”
“Oh,” she said, remembering the wide gaps on that section of the board.
“Ah. I love these little moments of enlightenment.”
This little moment of enlightenment made her feel sick to her stomach.
“I’m kind of curious to hear what you know about her boy-friends.”
“I wish I did know something.”
“Guess you didn’t notice the pictures, last time you were here.”
“I didn’t go into the kitchen.”
“How about the time before that?”
“I don’t remember if I went into the kitchen. If I did, I certainly didn’t see those pictures.”
“Now comes the time when I have to ask about this,” Fenn said. “Did you and your husband ever join in your friend’s games? If you say yes, I won’t tell Slim and Slam in there. Got any pictures at home with Mrs. Weil in them?”
“No. Of course not.”
“Your husband’s a good-looking guy. Little younger than you, isn’t he?”
“Actually,” she said, “we were born on the same day. Just in different decades.”
He grinned. “You probably know where the bedroom is.”
15
THROUGH THE OPEN door Nora saw a rising arc of brown spots sprayed across an ivory wall. Beneath the spray, the visible corner of the bed looked as if rust-colored paint had been poured over the sheets.
Fenn spoke behind her. “You don’t have to go in there if you don’t feel like it. But you might want to reconsider the idea that she isn’t dead.”
“Maybe it isn’t her blood,” she said, and fumed at Davey for having made her say such a thing.
“Oh?”
She made herself walk into the room. Dried blood lay across the bed, and stripes and splashes of blood blotted the carpet beside it. The sheets and pillows had been slashed. Stiff flaps of cotton folded back over clumps of rigid foam that looked like the entrails of small animals. It all
Some drug addict,
Nora thought. She moved on to a series of photographs of Natalie in a peach-colored bathing suit lined up, some of them separated by wide gaps, at the bottom of the corkboard. They had been taken in the master bedroom, and Natalie was perched on the bed with her hands behind her back. Uncomfortably aware of Holly Fenn looming in the doorway, she saw what Natalie was wearing. The bathing suit was one of those undergarments which women never bought for themselves and could be worn only in a bedroom. Nora did not even know what they were called. Natalie’s clutched her breasts, squeezed her waist, and flared at her hips. A profusion of straps and buttons made her look like a lecher’s Christmas present. Nora looked more closely at the glint of a bracelet behind Natalie’s back and saw the unmistakable steel curve of handcuffs.
She suppressed her dismay and stepped toward Fenn. “Probably this looks wildly degenerate to you,” he said.
“What does it look like to you?”
“Harmless fun and games.” He moved aside, and she walked out into the hall.
“Harmless?”
Nora turned toward the bedroom, thinking that maybe the Chancels had a point after all, and secrets should stay secret. Murder stripped you bare, exposed you to pitiless judgment. What you thought you shared with one other person was . . . She stopped walking.
“Think of something?”
She turned around. “A man took those pictures.”
“Kind of a waste if her sister took them.”
“But there aren’t any pictures of him.”
“That’s right.”
“Do you think there ever were?”
“You mean, do I think that at some point he was on the bed and she was holding the camera? I think something like that probably happened, sure. I took your picture, now you take mine. What happened to the pictures of the man?”
“Oh,” she said, remembering the wide gaps on that section of the board.
“Ah. I love these little moments of enlightenment.”
This little moment of enlightenment made her feel sick to her stomach.
“I’m kind of curious to hear what you know about her boy-friends.”
“I wish I did know something.”
“Guess you didn’t notice the pictures, last time you were here.”
“I didn’t go into the kitchen.”
“How about the time before that?”
“I don’t remember if I went into the kitchen. If I did, I certainly didn’t see those pictures.”
“Now comes the time when I have to ask about this,” Fenn said. “Did you and your husband ever join in your friend’s games? If you say yes, I won’t tell Slim and Slam in there. Got any pictures at home with Mrs. Weil in them?”
“No. Of course not.”
“Your husband’s a good-looking guy. Little younger than you, isn’t he?”
“Actually,” she said, “we were born on the same day. Just in different decades.”
He grinned. “You probably know where the bedroom is.”
15
THROUGH THE OPEN door Nora saw a rising arc of brown spots sprayed across an ivory wall. Beneath the spray, the visible corner of the bed looked as if rust-colored paint had been poured over the sheets.
Fenn spoke behind her. “You don’t have to go in there if you don’t feel like it. But you might want to reconsider the idea that she isn’t dead.”
“Maybe it isn’t her blood,” she said, and fumed at Davey for having made her say such a thing.
“Oh?”
She made herself walk into the room. Dried blood lay across the bed, and stripes and splashes of blood blotted the carpet beside it. The sheets and pillows had been slashed. Stiff flaps of cotton folded back over clumps of rigid foam that looked like the entrails of small animals. It all
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