Free The Dark Door by Kate Wilhelm Page B

connection with the hotel at all. Does anyone have nightmares about the hotel, the fire, anything to do with it, that sort of thing. Okay? What made him choose some people and not others for his list? Why not poor Mrs. Eglin or J.C., for example.”
    She was watching him closely. “Do you think there’s a connection between the madness at the school and the hotel fire?”
    He shook his head. “No. I don’t think anything yet. Too early. I’m just damned curious. And your hair does smell good. Let’s go to bed.”
    Joe Eglin was twenty-eight; his wife Maria was twenty-five. She had not spoken, had not made a sound, had not moved of her own volition in four years. This much Charlie had learned from various people in town that morning. He had driven up into the hills and down a steep road, and had come to the fifteen acres that Joe farmed. It was a pretty setting, with redwoods high on the surrounding hills, pine trees in the valleys, ocher colored grasses, and a fast running stream. It appeared that there were millions of chickens and turkeys, geese and ducks, all running loose, most of them on the narrow gravel road. Joe admitted Charlie to his living room with reluctance. The noise of the fowls outside made it impossible to speak and be heard until the men were in the house with the door closed. Charlie had called, had said he wanted to talk about an insurance claim. Apparently that was all Joe Eglin had needed to hear.
    “What about insurance?” Joe demanded. He was a little too flabby, too paunchy, and there were dark hollows under his eyes.
    “I’d like to see your wife,” Charlie said pleasantly. He glanced about the room, spartan in furnishings, very clean. Very dull. The walls were painted light green, a tan rug was in front of a tan sofa, a television and VCR in the middle of the room, two wooden chairs with cushion seats, a coffee table with nothing on it. A Venetian blind covered a picture window that was almost the full width of the room.
    “She’s taking a nap,” Joe Eglin said. “What’s this all about?”
    “I represent the insurance company trying to make sense out of the affair at the Dworkin school,” Charlie said easily, as if not very interested in any of this. “We’re reviewing claims associated with the Dworkin sisters and their school. We want to get the matter behind us, and you and your wife’s names came up. You know, it all sounds insane to me, but I wasn’t here. There’s a memo with your names, but we can’t find a claim. Did you file one?”
    Joe Eglin moistened his lips. He nodded toward a chair. “You want a beer, or something?”
    “No, thanks.”
    “We haven’t filed yet. I’ve been waiting to see if she snaps out of it.”
    Charlie shook his head. “Mr. Eglin, I want to level with you. I heard in town yesterday that your wife is dead, that there isn’t any Mrs. Eglin. No one’s seen her in four years. You don’t let anyone in here. You see where that leaves me? I mean, if I go away and next week you show up at the office with a woman, what does that prove? Did your wife ever have finger prints made? Of course not. Why would she? I really do want to see her today, Mr. Eglin.”
    Joe Eglin’s fists balled and he took a step toward Charlie, then another. “Get out!”
    “Sure,” Charlie said. “But, Mr. Eglin, consider. I have the company backing me. If I say in my report that I agree that there is no Mrs. Eglin, where will that leave you if ever you want to collect her life insurance, for example? Five thousand, isn’t that it? Not a fortune, but on the other hand, if she does die, you’ll need it for the funeral and all.” He went to the door and stood with his hand on the knob. “I wonder what it would take to get J.C. Crandle out here poking around. Is there a death certificate anywhere on file?”
    “Wait a minute,” Joe Eglin said. He was sweating heavily. “Give me a minute. You know about her?”
    “I heard something.”
    “Yeah, I bet. Wait