Free The Lake House by Helen Phifer Page B

well.
    Another thought crossed his mind and he tried to block it out, but he couldn’t. He had an uneasy feeling about the empty crate, which should have contained the supposed, magnificent, one and only captured Windigo in the whole world, and now didn’t. He tried to think who knew about it and when the last time was that he had looked at the packing crate, but he couldn’t remember. James knew it was a long time ago. He’d moved it in under the cover of darkness with help from Archie, one of his most trusted workers, and he’d sworn him to secrecy.
    If Eleanor had known he’d brought that thing into their home she would have been beside herself. It terrified her. She’d made him promise that he wouldn’t bring it anywhere near their house, but it was worth a lot of money and he didn’t want to leave it lying around the amusement park until the building that was going to house it was finished. It wasn’t alive. It was dead. At least it looked as if it was dead. In fact, he didn’t even believe that it was real. He had no idea who had made it, or how, but it was a very good piece and one of its kind. So why could he not shake the uneasy feeling that the monster’s disappearance had something to do with his son who was now missing?
    He thought back to the night he had first set eyes on the creature, as he’d walked down the cobbled street and, for the second time in ten minutes, asked himself what he was doing. Why did the man who had the piece he wanted to add to the display of his sideshow of freaks and monsters want to meet in a dark back alley in Piccadilly? He knew he should have sent one of his employees but he needed to see the thing for himself, to see if it was real or at least looked realistic, because the asking price had been a lot of money and this wasn’t exactly one hundred per cent above board. There were no shipping papers from America. where it was from, to go with the skeleton. In fact there were no papers at all. This was a strictly take a look and pay cash on the spot deal.
    He stopped and looked at the blackened door in front of him. This must be the one. As he lifted his hand to knock it opened a crack. The smell of stale ale and something that had gone off escaped, making him take a step back. ‘Who is it?’
    ‘Mr Beckett.’
    There was some shuffling and fumbling and then the door opened wide enough for him to step through. For a moment he contemplated turning around and walking away. For all he knew he was about to get beaten and left for dead.
    ‘I thought you were. I can tell by your fancy clothes and the sound of your shoes on the stones outside that you’re not one of us.’
    James, who had never looked down on anyone in his life, even though he had been brought up the son of a businessman, thanked God that he wasn’t one of them – whoever they may be.
    ‘Come in before someone sees you.’
    He forced himself to step inside the dark hallway and tried not to flinch as the man slammed the door behind him.
    ‘So you are looking for something special for your fairground, are you? Something the likes of which the world has never seen?’
    ‘I am. That’s very true but I don’t know if you can show me anything that I want. I’m afraid I might have made a mistake coming here.’
    The man smiled, showing a mouthful of rotten teeth.
    ‘Oh you’ll want what I have, all right. It’s been kept in the dark, underground, for five years, waiting for the right buyer to come along.’
    The man led James along the narrow corridor into a room that was brightly lit by many candles. Inside it was an assortment of boxes and crates of all shapes and sizes. He continued walking to the back of the room until he reached one that was almost seven feet tall and looked more like a coffin than a crate.
    ‘Tell me, Mr Beckett, do you believe in those Red Indian folk tales at all? A man of your stature must like to read. Do you have any interests in the Algonquin tribes?’
    James shook his head.