The Black Tower Read Free Page A

if he really wanted to menace people,” Meat said, “he could have used that old woman’s face.”

4
    MAN OR BEAST
    â€œLet me,” Meat said, reaching for the doorbell. Over his shoulder he said, “I hate this doorbell. It’s like the ding-dong of doom.”
    It was the next day, and Meat had walked Herculeah to Hunt House for her second reading of The Terror in Black Tower.
    It was one of those old-timey doorbells that had to be turned, and Meat gave it a manly twist. From deep within the house came the ding-dong.
    They heard heavy footsteps. “It’s a new nurse today,” Herculeah said. “I think her name’s Miss—”
    The door opened then, stopping Herculeah’s sentence. Herculeah and Meat looked up. The smiles on their faces faded.
    Nurse Wegman was big. Meat had seen bodies like that on World Class Wrestling. She was not as big as his father, of course. Few people were. After all, his dad was Macho Man, a championship wrestler. Just the thought of his dad brought back the picture of him entering the ring, the crowd chanting, “Macho,
    Macho, Macho Man.” He could hear the music, feel the pride, the—
    Meat’s pleasant picture was shattered by one harsh word from the nurse. “Yes?”
    â€œI’m Herculeah Jones.”
    Nurse Wegman said another word. “So?”
    â€œDidn’t anybody tell you? I read to Mr. Hunt every afternoon at four o’clock. It’s four now.” She lifted her arm to display her watch.
    Meat thought Nurse Wegman looked as if she didn’t trust Herculeah, so he came immediately to his friend’s defense. “It’s all right, Nurse. Her mom’s a private investigator. She works for Mr. Hunt.”
    That seemed to help Nurse Wegman make up her mind. “You’d better come in.”
    Herculeah went inside, and Meat said, “I’ll wait out here in case you need me.”
    â€œYou aren’t coming in?” Nurse Wegman asked.
    â€œNo, sir.”
    Meat turned away quickly, his face red with embarrassment. He hoped neither Miss Wegman nor Herculeah had heard that “sir.”
    Inside, Herculeah followed Nurse Wegman up the stairs. “Your mother is a private detective?” the nurse asked.
    â€œYes.”
    â€œWhat, exactly, is she investigating?”
    â€œI don’t know. She doesn’t confide in me.”
    â€œI was only asking because I’ve heard rumors about this place. People seem to think it’s kind of spooky.” Her voice seemed to deepen. “I’ve even heard there’s money hidden in here. Have you heard that?”
    â€œYes, I heard the Hunts didn’t believe in banks.”
    â€œAre there any rumors where it might be hidden?”
    â€œNot that I’ve heard. It could be anywhere.”
    â€œAnd this is a big house.”
    â€œYes.” Herculeah watched Miss Wegman’s broad back, the ponytail that swung between her shoulder blades. At least, she thought, this nurse was big enough to take care of an invalid. “The book I’m reading to Mr. Hunt is The Terror in Black Tower, and this house even has a black tower, in case you didn’t notice.”
    â€œI noticed.”
    Nurse Wegman opened the door to Mr. Hunt’s bedroom. “I’ll be around if you need me.”
    Herculeah approached the bed. “Hi,” she told Mr. Hunt, “it’s me again—Herculeah. Do you feel like hearing some more about the girl in the tower?”
    For a moment Mr. Hunt didn’t seem to recognize her. His eyes weren’t as bright as yesterday.
    â€œDo you want me to read?”
    Three blinks.
    What did that mean? Herculeah wondered. One blink meant “yes”; two meant “no.” Three meant what?
    â€œAre you trying to tell me something, Mr. Hunt?”
    One blink. Yes.
    â€œIs it about the book?”
    No.
    She had a sudden insight and she asked, “Is it about