Free The Amityville Horror by Jay Anson Page B

what would otherwise be wasted, space, and its proximity to the kitchen stairs made it a most convenient pantry.
    Kathy was working in these closets. When she stacked some large, heavy canned goods against the closet's wall, one of the shelves cracked. One side of the plywood paneling on the rear wall seemed to give a little. She moved the cans aside and pushed against the panel. It moved farther away from the shelving.
    The closet was lit by a single bulb, hanging from the ceiling. The bulb's reflection shone through a small slit opening just enough to give Kathy the impression that there was an empty space behind the closet, under the tallest section of the stairs. She went out to the basement and called George to come down.
    He looked at the opening and pushed against the paneling. The wall continued to give a little more. "There isn't supposed to be anything back there," he said to Kathy.
    George removed the four wooden shelves, then shoved hard against the plywood. It swung all the way open. It was a secret door!
    The room was small, about four by five feet. Kathy gasped. From the ceiling to floor, it was painted solid red. "What is it, George?"
    "I don't know," he answered, feeling the three solid concrete block walls. "It seems to be an extra room, maybe a bomb shelter. Everyone was building them back in the late fifties, but it sure doesn't show up in the house plans the broker gave us."
    "Do you think the DeFeos built it?" Kathy asked, holding nervously onto George's arm.
    "I don't know that either. I guess so," he said, steering Kathy out of the secret room. "I wonder what it was used for." He pulled the panel closed.
    "Do you think there are any more rooms like that behind the closets?" Kathy asked.
    "I don't know, Kathy," George answered. "I'll have to check out each wall." "Did you notice the funny smell in there?"
    "Yeah, I smelled it," George said. "That's how blood smells."
    She took a deep breath. "George, I'm worried about this house. A lot's happening that I don't understand." George saw Kathy put her fingers in her mouth, a sign she was scared. Little Missy always did the same thing when she was frightened. George patted his wife on the head.
    "Don't worry, baby. I'll find out what the hell that room is all about. But we can use it as an extra pantry!" He turned out the light in the closet, shutting out the sight of the rear wall panel, but not obscuring the fleeting vision of a face he glimpsed against the plywood. In a few days, George would realize it was the bearded visage of Ronnie DeFeo!
    10 December 28-On Sunday, Father Frank Mancuso returned to the Long Island rectory after celebrating Mass in the church. It was only several yards from one building to the other, but the priest felt his recent weakness as he walked in the cold air.
    In the Rectory's reception room there was a visitor waiting for him-Sergeant Gionfriddo of the Suffolk County Police Department. The two men shook hands, and Father Mancuso led Gionfriddo to his quarters on the second floor. "I'm glad you called me," the priest said, "and I appreciate that you came."
    "That's all right, Father. It's my day off this week." The big detective looked over the priest's apartment. The livingroom was filled with books that overflowed the bookcases onto tables and chairs. He took a stack off the couch and sat down.
    Father Mancuso wanted to warm up and he had no liquor in his rooms to offer the policeman, so instead he made some tea. While it brewed, he got right to the point of his request for Gionfriddo's visit.
    "As you know," he began, "I'm concerned about the Lutzes. That's why I asked Charlie Guarino to contact somebody in Amityville to check if they were all right." The priest walked into his kitchenette to get some cups and saucers. "Charlie reminded me that they're living in the house where that unfortunate DeFeo family was slain. I'd heard about the case from some friends of mine, but I don't really know how it happened."
    "I was on