1. The Bockerman
1
The Bockerman
FEBRUARY 16, 2005 - DAY 1
Barney Leonard studied the sign flashing “The All-Star Theatre Cafe & Speakeasy” above the entrance to the Sunshine Assisted Living Home cafeteria and wished that the speakeasy part was still true. Instead of delicious mixed cocktails and well-heeled clientele, he and the other residents got a utilitarian buffet of hot and cold breakfast offerings. Scrambled eggs that resembled cardboard, sausage links, wilted fruit and oatmeal that looked like dried concrete. He played with his plain bagel smeared with light cream cheese, the only one they stocked here. What kind of breakfast did Marilyn and Dimaggio eat at this spot, when it was one of the most famous restaurants in Hollywood and not a low-rent cafeteria?
His mind wandered with the possibilities. Bacon. They ate bacon for sure. Marilyn loved bacon, he’d read. Barney missed bacon. It had been years since he'd had a decent slab. At least the company who purchased the place retained the rich dark wood paneling. They made up for that oversight by outfitting the rest of the place with cheap plastic tables and chairs.
He shoved his plate away in revulsion. Where in the hell was Babs? He stared towards the door to the lobby and willed Babs to step inside. The door remained closed.
Mary Ann McClatch, a well-preserved seventy-five, skin stretched and rouged for maximum impact, leaned in closer to him and put her hand on his knee. His head swam with her strong perfume. The woman bathed in it.
“The ghost has to be Irene Lentz, don’t you see Barney? She was the lovesick one that plunged out of a window on the eleventh floor?” Her gruff voice whispered in his ear. “Have you ever loved like that?” She pulled back and gave him the look. That look. They had one night together, and he couldn’t shake her, however hard he tried. He smiled and lifted her hand off his thigh.
Barney edged away from her and focused on Lauren, a round grandma with twinkling blue eyes who was a dead ringer for Mrs. Claus. She snorted at Mary Ann’s failed advance. Barney had struck out with Lauren when he first arrived at Sunshine but didn’t hold it against her. The crinkles around her eyes revealed her love of laughter and each time she laughed, he wished his view of the world matched hers better. Babs, in her own way, was doing much to change his outlook on life. She inspired him and he loved her for it.
He recalled the first time he’d spotted Barbara “Babs” Monroe in the lobby and realized she was the one. He never believed himself to be a romantic? Up to that point, he’d been bed hopping for over a year but had grown bored of it and wanted something more substantial. He pursued Babs for several months, and when she turned her charm on him, he was the proudest man at the Sunshine House.
“It’s always the lovesick ones,” Mary Ann said, glaring at him.
“You should know,” Lauren countered, winking at him. He burst out laughing. Mary Ann let go of his arm, ignoring Lauren. He stretched it out to get his blood circulating from her vise-like grip.
“It’s not only one ghost. Rudolf Valentino frequented this bar until his death in ’26 and Harry Houdini’s widow, Bess, held an infamous séance on the roof in ’36 on Halloween night.” He stopped to Lauren rolling her eyes.
“Do you believe in that stuff, Barney?” Lauren asked.
“It’s based on fact, Lauren. I recall reading about Frances Farmer being dragged out of here by the police after skipping parole. She had been a doll on set. This place is our history. I remember going to the silent pictures as a kid, and they’re the reason I got into the business. The list of deaths here goes on and on, D.W. Griffith, Irene Lentz, like you said.” He nodded to Mary Ann. “And even William Frawley, Fred Mertz from ‘I Love Lucy’. I worked with him once. He died at the front entrance. I'm surrounded by old friends and don't fear their nightly wanderings.”
“That's eloquent, Barney,” Lauren admitted.
“Thank you, Lauren,” he said, and observed Mary Ann bristle. Where in the hell was Babs? Everyone in the place knew he and Babs were together, and Mary Ann wouldn't flirt like this if Babs was present.
“But the voice sounded like a woman’s,” Mary Ann whined. “You’ve heard the cries, haven’t you?”
“No, I haven’t,” Barney said. However much he felt as though he was home, he still kept a healthy sense of skepticism about actual ghosts. He imagined Frances and William and Valentino hanging here, but they had not appeared to him yet. During his long career as a sound engineer, he created sounds using ordinary objects to make any sound effect a director wanted. Sound was tricky. If a person was primed to hear ghosts, many ordinary sounds masqueraded as ones from the ghostly realm.
“What about James and Judith...the others?” Mary Ann asked. Barney scowled at her question. Five people had died at the Sunshine over a period of two months. Most of the residents panicked thinking they were next, trotting out crazy theories about the reaper walking the halls.
His mind jumped to Babs. She should be here by now. A knot twisted in his stomach, but he reminded himself that she always overslept.
“What if Bess Houdini brought something evil upon us?” Mary Ann whispered, her eyes growing wide. Lauren snorted again.
“You’re talking demons now, Mary Ann? As if ghosts weren’t crazy enough to entertain?” Lauren asked, squaring off.
“Has anyone seen Babs this morning?” The gnawing pain in his stomach grew bigger as Mary Ann’s hand tugged at his arm again.
“She believes in ghosts and demons. Why just two days ago we were fooling around with an Ouija board in her room and I’m positive we made contact. She spoke about black magic and the mirror world.” She nodded and scrutinized Barney’s face. Babs was kooky, but he loved that about her. Mary Ann scowled at him when he didn’t give her the response she was expecting. “What about the séances? On the roof?” Mary Ann struggled to draw his attention back to her, but he shrugged her arm off.
“Something’s wrong. I should check on Babs.” He stood up and saw Nurse Louise Fairbanks enter. His heart sped up amidst an ominous sense of impending disaster. He faltered as he watched her fill a plate at the buffet and lowered himself back into his seat. She headed right towards their table. Regular angel of death that one, he thought. He was sure she was the one responsible for the most recent deaths here.
He played it cool and forced a smile as Lou, the name all the residents called her by, stepped up to their table.
“Can I join?” Lou asked.
“Good Morning, Lou,” Mary Ann said. Lou smiled and sat down, her tray in front of her.
“Maybe you can make sense of all this,” Mary Ann said as Lou’s fork stopped in midair.
“Not you too? Is this about the noise last night?” Lou asked, stress permeating her voice.
All the residents welcomed Lou and Dads, her dementia afflicted father, when they arrived some months back. Dads kept her busy, his dementia worsening week by week and they rallied to help her in any way they could with him. But then James died, then Judith, and Amy, Nancy, and Regina. Even for an assisted living facility that was a lot of deaths. That quack Dr. Jerris claimed they all died of natural causes and said, ‘Well, we all have to die of something. They were old.’
What a bastard, he thought, his eyes narrowing at the memory. Barney didn’t have to do too much research before he found doctors and nurses who killed their own patients. The police and media called them angels of death. Lou was a perfect example of one, Barney thought.
“There are no ghosts, Mary Ann. I promise,” Lou said, piercing his thoughts as she speared egg on to her fork.
“How can you be sure?” He kept his voice even, but it came out a hiss. Lou smiled at him. He craved to wipe it off her face.
“I’m surprised a scientific man like yourself would believe in such nonsense,” Lou said and popped the egg in her mouth. Mary Ann and Lauren leaned in, smelling blood.
“Sound engineer not a scientist,” he said, ignoring her tone. “When people die of unnatural causes, such as murder, they hang around seeking vengeance against their killer. What else do you think ghosts hang about for?” He scrutinized her face for any tells but discovered none. She was stone cold.
“No one here died from unnatural causes, Barney. You stir up trouble by scaring the hell out of everyone,” Lou said and looked to the women for confirmation. Mary Ann and Lauren avoided her eyes.
“I'm scared,” Barney said. “Old people die but how many deaths in a short span of time make you fear for your life?”
Lou pointed her fork in his face. “You don’t have a good attitude, Barney. No one should listen to you.” She focused back on her eggs, her lips curling until they disappeared. Her expression reminded Barney of a skeletal grimace.
“My age gives me the right to have whatever attitude I want,” Barney grunted as he shoved away from the table. “I gotta go find Babs.” He stalked to the door, his anger turning to fear. Babs, please be alive.
He fought the urge to run and counted his steps until he stepped over the threshold. The moment the door closed behind him, he broke into a run. Russell Hall, the guard on duty, shouted something as he ran by but he didn’t bother slowing down for that asshole.
Barney limped down the hall, wheezing from too much exertion, worry etched on his face. He stopped at Room 837. He breathed in deep, waited a second to get his heart under control then pounded on the door. He hoped Babs would throw it open in annoyance and yell at him for being so obnoxious, but the door stayed closed. He listened for any sound coming from inside. Nothing. He kicked the door one last time, but it remained closed.
“Babs? You there?” He pounded harder and even kicked it again for good measure.
No answer.
With his face pale and sweaty and heart pounding in his chest, he yelled, “Barbara? Are you in there? Can I come in?” He listened, heart thudding in his chest. “Stand away from the door, I’m coming in,” he shouted and threw his body against it. The door stood, immovable and solid.
The key. She gave him a key. He had left it in his drawer for safe-keeping. Barney whipped around ready to get it, but stopped himself before racing down the hall. Another thought crossed his mind.
What if?
No, he thought.
She wouldn't have left it open. Babs promised she’d lock the door but what if she forgot?
Cold sweat dripped down his back at the thought. If the door was open…
He squeezed his eyes shut and twisted the doorknob to the right. The lock tumblers disengaged, and the door squeaked open. Jesus, why was her door open?
“Babs? Barbara? You OK? It’s Barney,” he called out, opening his eyes. Her blackout curtains were open so she couldn’t still be asleep. She always complained she couldn’t sleep with any light in the room, but there she was still in bed. He took a step inside and smelled it. Decay and death, sickly sweet and familiar. It wafted by him as he threw himself at her bed. “Babs, NO, NO!”
She lay on the bed, her arms at her side and her head on the pillow. He pressed his fingers under her chin searching for a pulse, her skin ice-cold and waxy underneath his touch. She was dead.
