Psycho House by Robert Bloch

Author:Robert Bloch [Bloch, Robert]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Murderers, Norman (Fictitious character), Hotelkeepers, Bates
Publisher: New York : T. Doherty Associates
Published: 1990-03-18T05:00:00+00:00

"Any law says you have to stay here?"

Gibbs nodded. "Law of economics says there aren't too many people around looking to buy a small-town weekly with poor circulation. Law of nature tells me my own circulation isn't all that great—I don't have the energy to start all over again. And even if I could beat out all those kids with degrees in journalism and land a job with some metropolitan daily what difference would it make? I'd still be writing nonnews about nonpersons." Gibbs shook his head. "These being the laws, it looks like I'll serve a life sentence."

He spun the wheel and the car veered left onto a narrow dirt road tunneling beneath towering trees. "Sorry to bend your ear, but you asked for it. One of these days I'll get around to writing my unauthorized autobiography."

Self-pity, Amy told herself. Whoever would have guessed it? Or was it something which required guesswork? A montage of images flashed through her mind— Dad, her sister Fran, Bonnie Walton, ex-lover Gary, Dick Reno. And last but not least, that not-so-celebrated authoress and researcher. Miss Amelia Haines. Admit it, self-pity is one trait most of us share in common. But we seldom share it openly with others. Why had Hank Gibbs momentarily removed the mask? Was that his way of coming on to her?

Vanity. That's another common trait commonly concealed, if Gibbs itched for her he'd have made his move by now, and they would have been parked back there behind the trees instead of emerging into the sunlight.

Its rays were reflecting from the windowpanes of the two-story structure at the end of the road directly ahead. The barn behind it indicated that the white frame house had once functioned as a farmhouse, but the open field area beyond showed no present signs of cultivation.

As they parked in the rutted side yard, chickens clucked a greeting from somewhere inside the barn. Emerging from the Ccir Amy confronted a tan-and-white collie bounding from behind the house with mixed signals—a menacing growl and a wagging tail. She chose to believe the tail, but still felt more secure when Gibbs came around the front of the car and stooped to pat the dog before moving toward the back door.

She followed him as the growl, tail, and dog itself vanished as quickly as they'd come. Now her attention was directed to the woman who opened the door in response to Gibbs' knock.

Sandy Oliver was neither as tall or as heavy and her nose had never been broken, but her complexion and facial features bore a marked resemblance to Dick Reno's; she could easily have passed as his sister rather than his ex-wife. Short-cropped curls and the ambiguity of boots and jeans accentuated a sense of unisexuality, betrayed only by the bulge of heavy breasts beneath the khaki shirt.

Gibbs smiled at her. '"Afternoon, Sandy," he said.

His smile was not returned. "What the hell do you want?"

''Like you to meet a friend of mine." He indicated Amy with a nod.

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