The House on Hatemonger Hill by Eileen Haavik McIntire

Author:Eileen Haavik McIntire [McIntire, Eileen Haavik]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Eileen Haavik McIntire
Published: 2021-04-07T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

February 19, 1964.

I spent Wednesday morning studying and getting ready for class. I heard Clark stirring upstairs and checked my watch. Ten-thirty and, as usual, he hadn’t left his room yet. He eventually came down and, as he did every morning, lay on the couch and took his pulse.

“Aren’t you supposed to be job-hunting?” I asked, trying not to sound critical, but really. He’d dressed today and wore a yellowish plaid pair of pants with a frilled dress shirt, black bow tie, and cummerbund. Sure, he’d get hired dressed like that. Not even beatniks or the new wave, hippies, would wear those clothes, although maybe Oscar Wilde. It might help if Clark washed his hair and beard, brushed his teeth, and took a shower.

“Do you have an interview?” I asked.

‘Today,” he said and plodded into the kitchen.

Hallelujah, I thought. I heard him pour a cup of coffee and rattle a cereal box as I stole another peek at the street. Nothing unusual out there.

I finished the book I was reading, grabbed a snack and my flask, and put on an old jacket—not the coat I’d worn in Arlington. I left for the university, trotting down the steps and up the street to Kay’s VW bus. It was a pleasure to drive. I eased it out of its parking space and crept down Kilbourne Place between the parked cars on both sides. I studied each car as I passed and saw three with Virginia license places. In one, two men sat in the front seat. They glanced at me as I passed, but looked bored and uninterested. My hands gripped the steering wheel. That was storm trooper Frank, sitting in the driver’s seat. The other person was in shadow. I wanted to race down the street and away, but kept to the slow, steady pace as if nothing had happened. I didn’t think any of that crew in Arlington would recognize straight-haired brunette me as the blond, curly haired minx who brought them hot dogs and donuts…and pizza.

When I returned after my classes, cars crowded the street, and I had to park two blocks away. As I walked to the house, I again scanned the cars for Virginia license tags but had to be close to see the tag between parked cars. Then I noticed a Virginia license tag and recognized the same car I’d seen earlier. I stopped, pretending to search for something in my purse while I studied it. Ordinary sedan. Rusted. Two men sat inside. As before. The one on the driver’s side dangled a lit cigarette out the window. They were sitting there idle, and they were watching our house.

I edged away from the curb and walked faster to get past them in a hurry, keeping my face averted. I didn’t think they noticed me other than I was a young female. I heard a soft whistle from one of them. I passed our house and walked to the library at the end of the street.

I hung out in the library for two hours.

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