Quarter to Midnight: Fifteen Horror Short Stories Page 3

  “I’m taking a break,” Jodie said, crossing the store so quickly that she knocked several clothing racks askew. “Be back soon.”

  Without giving Miho a chance to answer, she jogged into the storeroom and closed the door behind herself. Her hands were shaking, and the tightness over her shoulders had spread down her chest and knotted in her stomach like a cold, thick snake coiled in her abdomen.

  The storage room felt comforting, though. Its haphazard stacks of boxes overflowing with clothes, the shelves crammed full of laybys, and even the garbage bag left by the door were mundane, safe, and familiar. Jodie sank to the floor and pulled her knees up under her chin, closing her eyes and breathing deeply. Her heart rate slowed, and strength gradually eased back into her limbs.

  What’s gotten into me? She listened to the muted noises coming from behind the door that led to the main part of the store. They’re only mannequins. Yeah, they’re creepy, but they’re not actually doing anything. Except for maybe bankrupting the store.

  Calm washed over her as the tension left her shoulders and the sweat dried. She thought of Earl, who would be coming in for his shift that afternoon. She hoped he wouldn’t give Allie any trouble. If he tried to drink during work again, she would have to tell the boss—and she wasn’t looking forward to it. Earl’s father was surly, and although he wasn’t fond of his son in any sense of the word, he hated criticism.

  Maybe I could move on. I might need to, anyway, if the mannequins are scaring the customers away. I could start putting out resumes again. Maybe actually make it into the journalism field and get some use out of my degree. Wouldn’t that be amazing? I could get out of this awful store and away from Earl and Earl’s father and the new mannequins—

  The door creaked open, and Miho’s round face peered through. “Jodie? You okay?”

  “Yeah, fine.” Jodie found her words were almost true. “Need help out front?”

  “The crazy lady came in,” Miho said.

  Jodie sighed and got to her feet. “Sure, I’ll take her—”

  “But she left again.”

  “What?” Jodie went to the door and looked out. The store was completely empty.

  Miho shrugged, chewing on her hair. “She stood by the discount rack for a minute then left. Didn’t even try to talk to me.”

  “Huh.” Jodie looked towards the rack and the tall mannequin fitted out in slacks and a hoodie that stood beside it. She could guess why Mrs Danvers hadn’t lingered. Maybe those mannequins have some perks, after all.

  Jodie sat behind the desk, tapping a pen on the scratched wooden surface as she surveyed the empty store. Calling it a slow day would have been an understatement. She’d kept herself busy dusting shelves and rearranging clothing racks, but without any customers, there was nothing else to do. Miho had gone home, and Allie, whose shift had started ten minutes previously, was drifting amongst the racks, looking lost.

  “And it’s been like this all day?” she asked on her third lap around the store.

  “Pretty much. One woman came in to exchange her shirt for a different size. Otherwise, nothing.”

  “Maybe it’s the weather.”

  The rain from the previous day had continued through the morning as a drizzle, but Jodie doubted that was to blame for their deserted store. “Maybe.”

  She checked her watch. It was ten minutes past the end of her shift, but Jodie was waiting for Earl. She’d spent the morning rehearsing what she wanted to say to him—in a calm, moderate voice, she’d promised herself—but he was, predictably, late.

  He must know I’m angry about the state he left the store in last night. He’s probably hoping he can wait long enough for me to leave, and avoid the lecture.

  “This is ridiculous,” Jodie grumbled. She picked up the desk phone and dialled the mobile number written on a Post-it note hidden just out of the customers’ sight. It rang four times before going to voicemail. She hung up without leaving a message. “He’s not answering.”

  “Maybe he’s driving here right now,” Allie said, shaking out the top shirt on its stack and refolding it.

  “Maybe,” Jodie said. Earl couldn’t afford a car, and his father refused to lend him the family vehicle, so he took public transport on days he couldn’t get a lift.

  A customer drifted in through the doors then floated out like a leaf caught in a swirl of wind. Her large teeth worrying at her lower lip, Allie watched the woman go. “Well, you might as well head home. Even if Earl doesn’t come in, it’s not like I’m going to be overwhelmed.”

  Jodie pursed her lips. She hated the idea of letting Earl win, but his stalling tactics were gradually eating away at her afternoon off. She’d already made plans that involved the three latest episodes of her favourite show, an extra-large doona, and Chinese takeaway. “Thanks, Al, I might do that. Look, Earl was acting up last night. I caught him drinking behind the desk, and he left the store unlocked. If he gives you any sort of trouble today, give me a call, all right?”

  “Will do.”

  Just before nine in the morning, the clouds from the previous two days had parted to offer a little weak spring sun. The weather forecast had said another storm was coming that evening, though, but Jodie had been thinking there might be just enough time to dry the laundry before her shift that afternoon. She was nearly done when a bright jingle disturbed the silence and sent Jodie searching her pockets for the phone.

  She glanced at the number and recognised the work landline. Who’s scheduled this morning? It’s Miho and Earl, isn’t it? Or maybe someone else is calling…

  The sensation of something being not quite right was so strong and so sudden that it knocked the breath out of her lungs. The morning didn’t seem bright anymore, but cold and alien. In her mind’s eye, she saw a hand reach for the clothing store’s phone on worn wooden bench, pick up the receiver, and dial her number. But the hand wasn’t flesh and blood. The perfectly white porcelain fingers that should have been frozen moved dexterously as they danced over the number pad—

  Then the phone rang again, and Jodie shook herself out of the stupor. The work number still flashed on the screen, and she pressed the answer button. “Hello?”

  “Jodie, thank goodness!” The notes of fear and anxiety in Miho’s voice doused Jodie’s momentary relief.

  “What’s wrong?” She dropped a wet shirt into the washing basket.

  Miho hiccupped then took a steadying breath. “I think we’ve been robbed.”

  “What?” Jodie was already jogging into her house to find her car keys. “Are you sure?”

  “Pretty sure.” Jodie pictured Miho standing behind the counter, holding the phone’s old-fashioned receiver in both hands as she surveyed the store. “The doors weren’t locked again. And there’s stuff everywhere—pulled off shelves, off racks. It’s a disaster.”

  “Hang tight. I’m on my way.” Jodie hung up as she slid into the driver seat of her car and turned the key in the ignition. Her mind was racing, trying to make sense of it.

  The doors were unlocked… Only five people had keys to the store: Jodie, Allie, Miho, Earl, and Mr Heinlein. Allie and Earl had been on closing shift the night before. Her first thought was that Earl had gotten drunk again and left the doors open, but she’d warned Allie about it the previous afternoon. Allie was too much of a worrier to let Earl close up shop alone, anyway.

  “Jeeze,” she hissed, weaving through traffic a little too quickly to be safe. She tried to think about how much might have been lost; it was a low-price store, and their most expensive pieces cost sixty dollars, so a thief couldn’t have made off with a fortune. Mr Heinlein would be furious, though, no matter how small the loss was.

  Jodie parked haphazardly and jogged through the near-empty centre. Miho was waiting just inside the store, and one look at the girl’s face told Jodie the last ten minutes had been hell.

  “Hey, it’s okay.” She put an arm around Miho’s shoulders and gave them a squeeze. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

&nb
sp; Miho shook her head, but her face was still scrunched up. “The store—look at it—Mr Heinlein –”

  “It’s not your fault. He won’t get angry with you.” Jodie gave the girl’s shoulders another squeeze then stepped forward to survey the damage.

  Miho hadn’t been exaggerating—it was a disaster. Virtually every shelf was empty. The shirts, the jeans, the dresses, the jewellery, the skirts, and the shoes all lay in piles about the floor. A few items hung from the top of the shelves, and one scarf dangled from a ceiling light. Most of the clothing racks had been overturned, and the T-shirt table had been jammed into the corner. Most of the mannequins had been knocked over. It hadn’t been casual riffling; it had been pillaging.

  “I didn’t touch anything,” Miho said, watching Jodie, who was turning in a slow circle to examine the room. Despite the gravity of the situation—or perhaps because of it—Jodie had to bite down on a laugh. She could imagine Miho saying exactly the same thing to a pair of police officers at the scene of a violent murder.

  “Okay.” Jodie pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose as she thought through their options. “Close the doors, Miho. We can’t let customers into the store like this. I’ll call Allie.”

  She gingerly stepped over the sea of discarded clothes to get to the checkout table while Miho pulled down and locked the shutters. Customers would still be able to see through the windows—and, in fact, a couple of curious faces were already peering through the empty display at the other end of the store—but at least they wouldn’t be interrupted while they assessed the damage.

  Jodie dialled Allie’s number from the Post-it note then shifted from foot to foot as she waited. The phone rang four times before going to voicemail. Jodie pressed on the switch hook and tried again, with the same result. She sighed and waited for the beep. “Allie, call work, please. It’s urgent.”

  Next, she tried Earl’s number. Again, her call went to voicemail. She didn’t bother leaving a message. It was quarter past nine, which meant he was probably skipping work… again.

  Finally, she called Mr Heinlein’s number and scowled when his phone, too, rang out. No answering machine took the call.

  Miho was hovering beside the desk, chewing at the ends of her hair. Jodie gave her a helpless shrug. “Well, we did a stocktake last week, at least. That’ll help us figure out what we’re missing. Better get started.”

  The clean-up consumed the entire morning. Jodie stood at the desk, comparing sales receipts with their stocktake to come to an approximate tally of what they were supposed to have, while Miho picked the clothes off the floor, checked them for damage, and rehung them. Once Jodie’s list was complete, she joined Miho. Her back ached by the time they stopped for lunch.

  “We’re getting there, at least,” Miho said from her perch on the corner of the desk, eating the kebab Jodie had treated her to. They’d rehung almost all of the scattered clothes but hadn’t counted them yet.

  Jodie checked her watch. “It’s nearly the end of your shift. D’you want to go home? I doubt we’ll be able to open today, anyway.”

  Miho shook her head quickly, and strands of her sleek black hair stuck to the grease around her mouth. She rubbed them away with a grimace. “Nah, I’ll stay and help out here, at least until Allie comes in.”

  Jodie was anxious for Allie’s shift to start, too. The five calls she’d placed throughout the morning had all ended up in voicemail, and they still hadn’t been returned.

  If she could just speak to Allie, she would at least know who was responsible for the damage. Allie or Earl might have dropped their key somewhere, giving a thief easy access to the store, or Earl had possibly gotten plastered and invited some of his buddies in to help him pull apart the shop he hated.

  Jodie tossed her own kebab wrapper into the bin and hopped off the corner of the bench. The mannequins still needed righting; she’s been putting it off, but with the rest of the store mostly sorted, she couldn’t ignore them for long. They’d been stripped, just like the night before, and Jodie picked up the first one gingerly.

  The white face stared down at her as she righted it. Even after being thrown to the ground, the porcelain was blemish free. Jodie found herself staring at it, searching the skin for imperfections—a hairline crack, a smudge, anything to abolish the niggling idea that the statues couldn’t be damaged—but as her eyes darted over the face, she felt as though she were being scrutinised in return. In that moment, she became convinced that the lips weren’t set in a neutral expression but that they were smirking. The face wasn’t blank; it was arrogant and intense.

  She swivelled the mannequin away so it faced the opposite direction and dressed it as quickly as she could manage with shaking fingers.

  Jodie knelt on the cold tiles, shaking out the tangled necklaces and bracelets that had been knocked off the jewellery stand. Every thirty seconds, she paused to check her watch then glanced at the shutter doors before frowning and returning to the jewellery. Two minutes past the start of Allie’s shift, she still hadn’t arrived.

  Allie was notoriously punctual. Everyone else—including Jodie—occasionally missed the start of a shift, except for Allie. She sometimes arrived as much as half an hour early if she’d heard traffic was likely to be bad.

  A tight ball of anxiety began to build inside Jodie’s chest. What-if scenarios fluttered through her head, and they became increasingly difficult to push aside. What if, instead of being busy, she’d been unable to answer her phone? What if the break-in had happened while Allie was still in the store? What if she was in trouble, hurt, or worse? Jodie’s fingers faltered as she tried to prise apart a necklace and a watch, then she threw them onto the floor in frustration.

  Since Mr Heinlein hadn’t answered her first call that morning, she’d been reluctant to call again, partly because he tended to shoot the messenger and partly because she’d been hoping to finish the inventory and have exact details for him before delivering the bad news. But Mr Heinlein held the contact details for Allie’s family, and he was Jodie’s only other link to Earl, who might be able to shed light on what had happened the night before.

  One hand on the receiver, she hovered behind the desk, breathing deeply and wishing Allie would just turn up so she could delay the call for another few hours. The eyes were on her again; it seemed like every mannequin in the store had a direct line of sight to her. Their attention was fixed on her movements, the way the lump in her throat made her grimace when she swallowed, and how her eyes couldn’t stay still. They were anonymous spectators, faintly amused, and she was their entertainment for the afternoon, a dull little distraction for them to judge at their leisure.

  Jodie squeezed her eyes closed, trying to block out the faces and struggling to clear her head. She took a sharp breath then bent over the bench to obscure the mannequin’s view. Jodie dialled Mr Heinlein’s number.

  He answered after two rings with his characteristic, “What?” Based on the way he slurred the word, Jodie thought he must have had a cigarette in his mouth. Either that or he’s drunk. She braced herself and described the situation as briefly and factually as she could.

  She tuned out a lot of what he said after that. He uttered copious swear words, most of them directed at her, and vague threats of suing for negligence. He also asked a series of questions she had no way of answering: “How much is this going to cost me? Huh?” and “Who’s responsible? Who the hell did it?”

  Jodie stared at her watch through the ordeal, letting her attention focus to the beautifully predictable second hand twitching its way around the dial. It was eight and a half minutes past by the time Mr Heinlein’s anger had ebbed enough for her to move the conversation along.

  “Allie’s shift was meant to start ten minutes ago, but she’s not here. Has Earl said anything about—”

  “Haven’t talked to Earl,” Mr Heinlein spat, sounding disgusted. “Not for a couple days. We had… an altercation, so he’s gone to sulk at one of his idiot friend’s house.”


  That would explain why he hadn’t been to work. It might also have been his motive for destroying the store, if he really was responsible.

  “Well, I can’t contact Allie. I’m worried something’s happened to her.”

  “Maybe she’s run off with my son,” Mr Heinlein said, and Jodie cringed as his cold laughter broke into a hacking cough.

  “The police should be contacted.” Jodie grimaced, knowing Mr Heinlein had a deep-seated hatred for their local police.

  “What the hell for? You want to cause trouble for the store? Is that what you’re doing?”

  She could feel the mannequins’ amusement. They were gloating, mocking her for turning to such an unstable ally. Jodie turned her back to them, facing the wall behind the counter, where a giant poster of a woman wearing fashions nearly five years old was stuck. Every time Mr Heinlein tried to divert the argument, Jodie repeated, “Allie’s missing. Someone should be contacted.” It became a mantra, which she interjected any time her boss paused to take breath.

  I’ve turned into Mrs Danvers. Hysterical laughter rose inside her, forcing her to bite her cheek to keep it contained.

  “Fine,” he snarled after she’d said the phrase for the fifth time. “I’ll call her family, and if they haven’t seen her, I’ll tell the police, and they’ll probably shut the entire store down for a month while they figure out she skipped town with a drug-addict boyfriend. Happy? Now get my store fixed.”

  He slammed his receiver down, and the crack echoed in Jodie’s ears long after she’d replaced her own receiver on the cradle. She turned back to face the store, and the mannequins, and forced a ghastly smile onto her face for Miho’s benefit as she returned to the jewellery rack.

  At nearly four in the afternoon, they finally finished the inventory. Jodie ran through the numbers one last time, incredulous. The stock left in the store perfectly matched the list of what they were supposed to have. If there’d been a break-in, the thief must have spent upwards of an hour tearing the place apart then left without taking so much as a bangle.