Martha

The Night Vistor Returns

Sable picked at the chicken spaghetti that was served to her that evening, leaning her head in her hand as she thought about her best friend.  It was not at all like Halle to disappear without saying a word.  Even if she had been in a hurry. 

"What's the matter, Sable?"  Porter asked, nudging her arm with his elbow. "Are you still worried about Halle? I told you that she's fine."

She started to answer him, but the way Lucy stared at her from across the table made her keep her thoughts to herself.  There was something about the Crenshaws that gave her the creeps. 

Since her friend disappeared, they seemed to be watching her more closely.  She was beginning to wonder if they had something to do with it. 

"I'm not worried."  She sighed, "I'm just tired."

The other guest listened to the scene from behind his newspaper. He was wearing another expensive suit, and had a golden watch around his wrist. He hadn't said a word since his arrival yesterday, but now his interest had been piqued.

"You say your friend took off without saying a word, huh?" His eyes were still fixed on the paper.

Sable nodded. "Yes."

"And she hasn't called you this morning?"

"No. I haven't heard a thing."

"Hmmm," He rubbed his chin and looked at Simon and Lucy. "And you two say the girl checked out because of a family emergency, correct?"

"Yes." Simon answered, "She took her things and ran out of here with tears in her eyes. I wish I knew more, but I didn't ask any questions."

The man looked over at Sable.  "Well, your friend hasn't been missing long enough for you to panic and call the police.  You should relax and wait to see if she calls within the next couple of hours."

"What if she doesn't?  Am I just supposed to forget she exists?"

"Certainly not.  If she doesn't call today, I'll go with you to the police station and help you file a missing persons report.  My buddy is the captain, so you'd have no trouble getting answers right away."

Sable relaxed a little.  "Thank you, Mr-"

"Smith.  Thomas Smith."

"Thank you, Mr. Smith."

"You're very welcome, young lady."

Everyone finished their dinners in silence.  The guests returned to their rooms, leaving Lucy and Simon alone to panic about the deceased girl.

"I'm telling you, Simon.  We have to get rid of that girl before she calls the police."

"And I already told you that getting rid of her would only raise more suspicion.  We have to keep calm and stick to our story."

Lucy threw her hands in the air, stomping up to her room.  She had always been more emotional than he was, and it often got her into trouble. He was going to have to keep an eye on her to make sure she didn't do anything rash.

He cleared the dinner plates from the table before heading to the basement with Martha's food. He made sure none of the guests were around, then he descended the staircase and turned on the dim light that hung above his sister's bed.

She was lying with her back to him, her head and body covered by her dirty blanket.  She was probably still angry over the way they scolded her.

"I have your dinner, Martha."

She didn't budge.

"Now, Martha. Don't sulk. You're the one who messed up."

Still, no response.

"Martha?"

He set the plate of food down and slowly walked to the bed. "Martha, are you okay?" He reached down to shake her shoulder and found that she was not there at all. In her place was her soiled pillow.

"Damn it," He looked around the basement until he saw her means of escape, an air vent that had been tampered with.

She must have crawled through it.

"Shit.  This is bad. This is really, really bad."

He ran up the stairs to tell Lucy, not knowing that one of their guests was already in danger.

****

Thomas Smith was changing into his pajamas when a strange sound came from his closet. He buttoned his shirt and narrowed his eyes.

"Is someone there?"

There was no response, but he could not shake the feeling that he was being watched.  He took a step towards the closet and reluctantly grabbed the door handle, pulling it open with one swift motion. 

His mouth fell open in a shocked gasp when he saw a young woman standing there.  Her hair was dirty and matted, and there was a worn out eyepatch over one of her eyes.  She looked wild, but harmless.

"Who the hell are you?"  Thomas demanded, "And what are you doing in my room?"

The woman clenched her yellow teeth and raised her hand in the air, displaying a large knife.  Thomas stumbled back and let out a scream, but it was cut short when the knife was plunged into his chest.

His hands trembled as blood soaked his pajama shirt, and he soon fell on his back.  Dead.

The killer took the knife from his chest and ran out of the room, clutching on to it eagerly as she decided which guest she would kill next.