Samantha- The Haunting Page 11

  Patricia disguised her embarrassed smile and turned to Anna. “Crazy, huh? I don’t even have that much stuff, but I guess he knew it would be difficult for me to carry things with my ankle like this.” Patricia cringed as soon as the words left her mouth. Anna, despite her scattered look and overdone make-up – something that Patricia had hinted at on several occasions – was very intelligent and had a keen sense of intuition. Damn, Tricia!

  “Your ankle?” said Anna, her eyebrows arched as high as they would go. “What happened to your ankle?”

  Patricia frowned and pressed her lips together in mock anger. “Oh, don’t start. I twisted it… last night… over dinner,” she said, the words coming out haltingly, almost painfully. “And don’t give me that look!”

  Anna was staring, her mouth slightly open.

  “It was a business dinner, sort of. We were talking about my new responsibilities, that’s all,” Patricia said, then as she made it to her desk whispered, “and the moon, and the stars, and…” She turned and faced Anna, resting her thigh against the side of the desk for support. “Just get things ready, please, will you? And stop with the motherly look.”

  Anna raised her eyebrows and lifted her hands in surrender. “Whatever you say, boss. I only asked what happened to your ankle, that’s all. Why don’t you sit and I’ll be right back with some boxes, and try not to twist your other ankle while I’m gone,” she said with a smirk, turned, and headed towards the storage room without waiting.

  Patricia shook her head and put her purse down on her desk. With her index finger, she traced the scratch from her envelope opener, like she had done hundreds of times before, and sighed. “Are you ready for this? Are you really ready, Tricia?” she mumbled.

  “Hello, sweetie,” said a voice, the word sweetie stretched and hissed slowly through clenched teeth.

  Patricia’s head snapped towards the door. She jumped in surprise and shivered as her eyes found the owner of the words. Standing in her office and closing the door was the Joker. The costume was perfect, the makeup impeccably real. The only flaw was the unmistakeable contour of a woman’s body. Patricia stood and stretched to her full height as the Joker turned to face her, a single white orchid in one hand and a cane in the other.

  “Excuse me, are you looking for someone?” she asked.

  The Joker’s mouth spread open into a wide smile, her lips stretching tightly across a row of yellow, but perfectly straight teeth. “My dear, my dear! For you alone, I must cheer. There’s a message that I carry, but it may be a tad scary. A bit of news from someone of interest, and although for the best, it may just put your love to the test,” sang the Joker, stretching her arms into a waltz position. With a wink, she twirled an imaginary partner and started to dance in a circle around the office.

  Patricia frowned. “Did someone send you? Paul, perhaps?”

  The Joker shrugged and continued her waltz. “I have a poem for someone named Tricia, full of admiration like Gomez’s love for Morticia. So sit right down and put up your feet, and I’ll show you what happens when you turn up the heat.”

  The Joker stopped in front of Patricia and bowed, holding the orchid out for her. Patricia looked bewildered, the flower in front of her, waiting. This can’t be from Paul, can it? she thought as she took the orchid.

  The Joker took a step back and continued her dance around the room, the tail of her purple trench coat swinging behind her. “You should be careful when treading forbidden ground, because in the end you’ll be the one to be hound. A scorned wife is not an enemy to make, especially one with no remorse for a life to take. Your lover knew that and was ever so concerned, because by my coming here he knew you’d get burned.”

  Once again, the Joker stopped in front of Patricia. She grinned menacingly.

  “What?” exclaimed Patricia, her eyes frightened, a puzzled look on her face. “What does that even mean? Are you threatening me?” She took a step back, glancing to her right for a possible escape path. “Did that crazy guy from last night send you?”

  The Joker grinned, her eyes turning into slits, and scrunched up her nose. “Smart girl, but no. Actually, you could say I sent him,” she said with a cackle. “So now, the message has been delivered for a second time and it’s time for me to go. But before I do that,” the Joker paused, lifted her cane, and put the tip against Patricia’s chest, pushing her back against the wall, “I think you need a more convincing reminder.”

  “What do you mean? What are you going to do?” Patricia cried. She tried to run to the side, but the Joker blocked her way, slamming her gloved hand on the wall in front of her.

  The Joker leaned forward and sneered, her face inches away from Patricia’s. “We’re still not done here, sweetie.”

  Patricia shrunk back in fear, her eyes fixed on the Joker’s face. “What are you? That’s not makeup! Is it?”

  “No, it isn’t. Are you impressed?” The Joker smiled, exposing her yellow teeth. “Do you like the flower? It’s very rare. Why don’t you take a sniff?”

  Patricia blinked several times and shook her head no, as if trying to wake up from a bad dream. Suddenly, with the side of her cane, the Joker wacked Patricia across the face. Patricia yelped in pain, choking back tears.

  “Come on sweetie, just a little whiff,” said the Joker in a singsong.

  Slowly, with shaking hands, Patricia lifted the white orchid to her nose. Almost immediately, the flower released a small, purplish cloud. Patricia’s eyes grew in shock and then panic as she slid to the floor. She tried to talk, but her lips wouldn’t move.

  “Oh, don’t worry, it’s just a paralyzing agent. The effects of the gas will pass soon,” said the Joker as she knelt beside Patricia and grabbed her right hand, the same one holding the white orchid. “And now, for your reminder!” The Joker took out an ornate, antique envelope opener, its rounded handle a mixture of gold and silver filigree, leading to a double edged blade, from the inside of her jacket and held it in front of Patricia’s eyes. Its blade was hairsplitting thin and reflected the light with eye-blinding ferocity. Patricia whimpered, tears running down her cheeks.

  “Orchids of white so easily stained, will be happy with your blood so readily drained.” Using the tip of the blade, the Joker made a small incision in Patricia’s index finger. Immediately, blood started to flow from the cut, covering the stem of the flower. Within seconds, the petals started to gain color until they were a deep, blood red.

  Patricia stared, her eyes full of terror.

  The Joker giggled. “Remember this feeling, sweetie, because it’s nothing compared to what will happen if I come back. You’ve been warned, twice!” The Joker took out a perfume bottle with a purple bulb and sprayed it in Patricia’s face. Patricia coughed and almost immediately passed out. The Joker stood and walked to Patricia’s desk. For a moment, she stood there looking at something, then turned and pranced to the door. With a twirl, she opened it and skipped down the hall.

  Anna walked into Patricia’s office carrying a couple of cardboard boxes, her head tilted to the side to see around them as she walked to the desk. “These were the biggest ones I found,” she said. “They smell of detergent but— Oh my God! Oh my God! Patricia!”

  Anna threw the boxes to the side and rushed forward, throwing herself on her knees beside Patricia. Patricia, still unconscious, sat with her head drooping, chin resting on her chest like a drunk. Anna grabbed her by the shoulders and gently shook her. “Patricia! Patricia! Wake up!” she cried.

  Patricia groaned, then as if in slow motion, opened her eyes, her mouth slightly agape. Her focus however, was not on Anna. Her eyes looked glazed, staring blankly into the distance.

  “Patricia! Are you okay? Can you hear me?” Anna shook her again, then reached up and gently slapped her.

  Patricia winced and lifted her arm in self defense, the orchid dropping to the ground. A pool of blood ran down her hand to her elbow and dripped on her blouse. “No! Please no! Don’t hit me. I didn’t do anything,” she s
creamed, tears welling in her eyes.

  “Honey, honey… it’s me, Anna,” said Anna, grabbing Patricia by the wrist. “Oh my God, you’re bleeding.” Anna quickly examined Patricia’s hand. “What happened? How’d you get this cut?” she exclaimed, looking up at her and noticing the bruise where Patricia had been struck. “And your face! What happened to your face?”

  Patricia blinked over and over, slowly focusing on Anna’s face, then started to sob uncontrollably. “Oh Anna! It… it was horrible… she hit me… then cut me… I thought she was going to kill me!” she gasped, and buried her face in Anna’s shoulder.

  “She? She who?” Anna hugged Patricia, stroking her hair. “It’s fine. You’re going to be fine. Here, let’s get you up in your chair and we’ll call security. Can you stand?”

  Patricia wiped her eyes on the back of her hand and nodded. “I… I think so. She did something to me. I couldn’t move, like I was paralyzed.” Slowly, with Anna’s help, Patricia tried to stand. “My legs… I… I can’t. They feel like jelly. I’m not sure I can do this.”

  “Okay, okay. You just sit here. I’ll call security.” Anna stood, grabbed the receiver off Patricia’s desk phone, and dialed. “Security? This is Anna from marketing— Yes, fifth floor. I need someone— Will you stop interrupting me, dammit! We need security up here immediately! Yes, it is urgent. Ms. Fowler’s been attacked! And call 9-1-1, we need and ambulance, urgent!” Anna slammed the receiver down and took a deep breath. She was about to turn when something on the desk caught her eye.

  “Anna,” Patricia called softly from behind her, “I’m feeling so faint… I need something for my finger… and some water.”

  Anna grabbed something from the desk, turned, and knelt beside Patricia. “I’m sorry. Of course, of course! Here,” she said as she took her scarf off, “we’ll use my scarf to stop the bleeding.” She gently folded her scarf into a long strip and wrapped it around Patricia’s index and middle fingers. “Don’t worry, honey, the ambulance and paramedics will be here any second,” said Anna, and glanced at the desk. “Um, Patricia, what did the woman cut you with? Was it this?”

  Anna held up her hand, but before Patricia could answer, someone knocked on the door to the office. Anna turned as a security guard – broad-shouldered and muscular, nothing like the beer belly TV types – rushed in and pulled out his sidearm.

  “Mam, move away from Ms. Fowler!” ordered the guard. “And drop the weapon!”

  Anna froze, confused.

  “I said, drop the weapon,” ordered the guard again, “or I will have to use force!”

  Suddenly, as if shocked back into reality, Anna glared at the guard and said in a tone more lethal than any weapon, “Are you threatening me? This is a goddamned envelope opener! Not a weapon! And don’t you point that thing at me!”

  The guard paused for a second, slowly lowered his gun, and said in a gentler tone, “Mam, please, just put the envelope opener down. That’s all I ask.”

  Anna shook her head in disgust, reached over, and put the envelope opener back on the desk. “Satisfied?”

  “Thank you, mam,” said the guard. “What happened here? I saw blood on the envelope opener.”

  Anna took a deep breath. “Someone, we don’t know who because Ms. Fowler had no appointments today, attacked her. I wasn’t here… I was getting boxes when the woman—”

  “It was the Joker,” interrupted Patricia, “She attacked me!”

  For an instant, Anna and the guard looked at each other, their eyes uncertain. “Honey, I don’t understand. What do you mean the Joker? Was someone else here with the woman? Were there two of them?”

  Patricia shook her head. “No! It was a woman Joker! She said something about forbidden ground, a wife getting revenge… I don’t know! I don’t understand… and then she hit me with a cane and I inhaled something from the flower and got paralyzed. That’s when she cut me, as a sign to remember her warning. Do you understand now?” Patricia looked at Anna, her eyes pleading.

  “Ms. Fowler,” started the guard with a hint of disbelief, “so from what I understand, you’re telling us that a woman dressed as the Joker, like the supervillain in Batman, came to your office and attacked you? Is that it?”

  Patricia, now somewhat recovered from the gas, retorted, “Yes! That’s it. And it was a woman Joker, not someone with makeup. She was real—”

  “Ms. Fowler, for the sake of accuracy, you do know that the Joker, the one from the movies as you said, is a man. Don’t you?” interrupted the guard.

  “What? Yes, of course! But those are movies… this was real, you have to believe me. I know what I saw. It was the Joker, and it was a woman!” Patricia bit her lip, trying to hold back the tears, then cupped her hand over her mouth.

  Anna glanced at the guard who simply shrugged. “Of course we believe you, honey,” she said, and turned to face Patricia. “I’m sure Mr.—” she turned to the guard.

  “Lou Marino, mam. Chief of security for Clearwell,” said the guard.

  “I’m sure Mr. Marino will have ways to find out exactly who it was,” said Anna gently, and reached down to hold Patricia’s hand. “For now, just relax.”

  “It won’t be a problem, mam. We have security cameras installed throughout the building,” confirmed Marino. “And picking out a woman Joker should be quite easy.”

  Patricia managed a meek smile. “Thank you.”

  Marino stepped towards the desk and looked down at the envelope opener. It looked quite ordinary, the kind you buy at any office supply store. Before he could say anything, however, a paramedic rushed through the door, saw Patricia, and knelt down beside her. He was a stocky Latino with a shaved head and a thin beard line running across his jaw up to his sideburns. He looked down at Patricia and smiled warmly.

  “Hi, my name is George,” he said in a deep baritone as he pulled on latex gloves. “I’m going to quickly examine this bruise on your face and then take a look at that hand.” George smiled again, a confident professional doing his job. “Can you tell me your name?”

  Patricia nodded, the fear in her eyes vanishing. “Patricia.”

  “Hi, Patricia,” said George as he examined Patricia’s face, his fingers moving expertly around her left cheekbone searching for obvious fracture points. “Everything feels okay here, but we’ll have to take you in for x-rays just to make sure. My partner, Sandy,” George said with a nod of his head, “will take your vitals while I look at your hand.”

  Lou took a few steps back and watched as another technician, a young, blonde woman in her twenties, stepped past him and knelt beside Patricia. Within seconds, she was taking her pulse and blood pressure.

  Patricia winced as George gently unwrapped the bloody scarf and took a closer look at the cut. “That’s a pretty nasty cut, but nothing to worry about. It will need a few stiches, though.” George grabbed a package of gauze and tape form his bag and glanced at Sandy.

  “120 over 75 and 82,” she said.

  “Good, good,” said George as he bandaged Patricia’s hand. “Grab the stretcher while I finish up here.”

  Sandy quickly walked to the hall and wheeled in the stretcher.

  Patricia groaned in dismay. “I’m feeling better… I think I can walk.”

  George smiled. “I’m sure you can, but as a precaution, we can’t let you. Trust me, we’ll take good care of you. Relax and enjoy all the extra attention.”

  Patricia smiled and closed her eyes. “That sounds good. Thank you. I’m so tired…” Then, after a small pause, added in a sleepy voice, “I love you, Paul.”

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Fowler,” the police officer said, and looked down at his pad, “but the security log shows no visitors to your floor on the morning of the attack. Not between 9:52 and 10:15 at least. And we don’t have anyone suspicious, carrying a big bag or briefcase where they might’ve hidden a Joker costume, caught on video exiting the elevators or coming up the stairs to your floor during that time, or even earlier.” The officer, a short, bla
ck but broad-shouldered type with a slight beer belly and greying hair, was all business. His nametag read Sgt. Charles Downing.

  Patricia lay on the bed in the hospital room, her body aching almost as much as her mind, and stared incredulously at the hard, brown eyes looking down at her. She had spent over an hour detailing the attack to the previous cop, and now this new guy? “What? Are you serious? How is this even possible?” she exclaimed, trying to keep the panic from her voice. “I mean, there has to be something. You can’t have someone looking like that walk into an office building, almost kill me, and go unnoticed. You just can’t!”

  Sgt. Downing lifted a single brow and said, “Looking like what, exactly?”

  Patricia sighed in frustration and glanced around the room. There was no one else there. “Where’s Anna?”

  “If you mean Ms. Burk, she went to call your boss to let him know you’re finally awake; and to get something for you to drink. She should be right back,” replied Sgt. Downing without taking his eyes off of Patricia. “Now, what did you mean by looking like that? Was there anything outstanding or particular about the person who allegedly attacked you?”

  “Allegedly? Are you serious? Does this look allegedly to you?” snapped Patricia angrily, shoving her right hand up for Sgt. Downing to see, then looking to the side to show him the bruise on her face. “You know, the other officer, Burns if I’m not mistaken, was much more sympathetic. And yes, there was something definitely outstanding about the person who attacked me! She was the Joker, as I already said before. You know, the bad guy from Batman? The psychopath with the crazy smile in a green and purple suit?”

  Sgt. Downing lifted his hand for Patricia to stop. “Please, Ms. Fowler, there’s no need to get upset. These are routine questions, especially considering the unusual nature of your case. And the fact that,” Sgt. Downing frowned and pursed his lips before continuing, “there are some details in your statement that at the moment don’t quite make sense.”