Rob Zombie - Lords of Salem

What happened to him? she wondered. Maybe he hadn’t come to see her after all, but if not, it was a weird coincidence. Probably he’d just run into Lacy and she was talking his ear off, she told herself. Probably he’d be up here soon.

She waited another ten minutes, watching the wall clock in the kitchen tick its slow way forward. No, she finally admitted to herself. He wasn’t coming. What had happened to him?

She stared at the door. She reached out and placed her hand on the knob and then pulled the door slowly open.

This time it was a little different. Behind the door, flush up against it, was another door. There was a brass plate on it, with a number inscribed on it. The number was five.

“We can wait in my apartment,” said Lacy. “Heidi stepped out for a moment. She is sure to be back very soon.”

“She isn’t here?” said Francis. “Well, maybe I should just come back another time. I don’t want to impose.”

Lacy smiled, touched his arm. “Nonsense,” she said. “She’ll be back shortly. Come in and have some tea.”

“All right,” said Francis.

He followed her down the hall and to her open door. He was surprised to find two other women already there, each of them holding a teacup. He was imposing on them, he realized, interrupting a conversation that they were already having, but when he tried to say as much and excuse himself, Lacy shook her head and dragged him in.

“These are my sisters,” she said. “They don’t mind. In fact, I’m sure that they’re eager to have some company other than me.” She picked up the tea service. “They’ll keep you entertained while I brew us a new pot.”

A little unsure of himself and still holding his briefcase in his arms, he sat down and introduced himself. One of the sisters, a blonde with short hair, was named Sonny. The other, with beautiful red hair that fell in ringlets, was named Megan. What would Alice think if she could see me, he wondered, feeling a little pang of guilt, sitting here with three lovely women instead of adjusting wax figures at the museum?

As if she could detect the current of his thoughts, Sonny asked, “Are you a married man, Mr. Francis?”

“Yes,” Francis said, slightly startled. “Very happily married. Thirty-six years in November.”

“Local girl?” asked Sonny.

“I’m afraid not,” he said. “She’s not a Salem native like me. She’s a California gal.”

“Any children?” asked Megan. Her voice was strange, a little vibrant.

“No, no. Somehow we never got around to it. Work was always my baby and Alice, well, she wasn’t set on it and so…”

“Well, that’s understandable,” said Megan. “Children are a bit of a waste… Most are a total loss. So few have anything of substance to really offer us.” She took a sip of her tea before continuing on. “But on the rare occasion, a special child appears.”

A little flabbergasted, Francis wasn’t quite sure how to respond. He chuckled nervously. “I never really thought about it like that before,” he admitted. “I just didn’t like the idea of changing diapers.”

“Does anyone?” asked Megan. “Have you ever met anyone who said, ‘If there’s one thing I love, it’s changing diapers’?”

Francis chuckled again. “Well, no,” he said, “if you put it that way…”

Lacy came back into the room with the tea tray and a fresh setup for Francis. She held the tray before him as he poured himself some tea and dropped in a few lumps of sugar.

“Is it caffeinated?” he asked. “It won’t make me jittery, will it?”

“No, no,” said Lacy. “Just the opposite. It’s very soothing.”

She set the tea service down on the table next to him, freshened her cup and those of her sisters, then took a seat facing Francis. “I couldn’t help but hearing from the kitchen Megan spinning her little philosophies on the value of breeding,” she said. “Don’t mind her. Megan lives in her own little bubble.”

Megan gave an enigmatic smile. Almost sinister, Francis thought. He relaxed his hold on his briefcase, placed it on the floor beside his chair, and was surprised to see the eyes of all three women follow the briefcase to its new place. He took up his teacup, raised it to his lips.

“How does it taste?” asked Sonny.

“Very good,” he said. Truth be told, it had a bit of an odd flavor, a kind of musty undertone to it beneath something more floral. That probably made it a good tea, gave it a complex nose, or whatever term one used with tea. But he didn’t particularly care for it.

Lacy held her own cup and saucer in her lap, balanced on one knee. “Now, what’s so important that you had to race over here to see my dear Heidi?” she asked.

“Hmmm?” said Francis. “Well, truth be told, really it wasn’t that important. Just something about a record she was playing on her show the other night.”

“Do you mind if I ask what record it was, Mr. Matthias?” asked Lacy.

“No, of course not. Trouble is, I don’t have a name for it—I don’t think there was a name on it, actually. But it was by a band called the Lords.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you seem a bit old to be a typical listener of that station,” said Sonny. “Sometimes looks can be deceiving, I guess.”

“No, you’re right. I don’t listen to it,” he admitted. “It was just… I was a guest on the program, and, well, I heard the album, and…” He let his voice trail off.

“Sonny dear, would you mind getting me some sugar?” asked Lacy.

“But there’s sugar already on the tray,” said Francis. “I got some when I got my tea.”

A flicker of irritation crossed over Lacy’s face but was quickly smoothed over. “Did I say sugar?” she said. “I meant sweetener.” She patted her side. “I’m watching my figure.”

Funny , thought Francis. She looked like a hippy type, the kind of person who’d be opposed to sweetener on the grounds that it wasn’t natural. But of course looks could be deceiving, as Sonny had just pointed out.

Lacy was regarding him politely, waiting for him to go on. So he did. “Anyway,” he said, “I just thought the information I have could be something she might find interesting.”

Lacy gave a little laugh. “Something she might find interesting.” She mimicked his voice in a way that Francis suspected was vaguely insulting. Then her face and tone suddenly became serious. “Mr. Matthias, you strike me as a man who would normally mind his own business.”

He chuckled. “I do, do I?”

“I’m not laughing,” said Lacy harshly. “Why are you? Is something suddenly funny?”

He stared at her dumbfounded. What had he said to offend her? No, he had imposed more than he’d realized perhaps—clearly she didn’t want him here. “I think I should come back later,” he said, his tone and bearing quickly formal. “I’m afraid I’ve taken up too much of your time already.”

“Do you know what I think?” said Lacy. Her voice was still harsh, and as she spoke she seemed to bare her teeth.

“Definitely not,” said Francis, reaching down for his briefcase. “And I don’t imagine I want to know.”

Lacy ignored him. “I think you are here to get inside the head of my dear little Heidi. Get inside her head and fuck her brain. Are you here to stick your nosey little cock inside her head and fuck her brains, Mr. Matthias?”

For a moment he couldn’t believe he’d heard her properly. How was it possible that garbage like that was coming out of her mouth? He felt his face flush with embarrassment.

“I really should be going now,” he said, stiffly.

“I’m afraid it’s too late for that,” said Lacy.