Last week I told about driving by my old house in Fayetteville and thought this column from a few years back deserved another run.
The following is true and no names have been changed because no one is innocent.
It was Spring Break and I had planned a weeklong trip to Disney World. While away, I asked a (former) close friend of mine named Fred if he would like to do some house sitting. He agreed. This was going to work out great I thought, as Fred was a bachelor a few years older than me whose best partying days were surely behind him.
So as our plane flew over the cold mountains of northwest Arkansas on its way to the Sunshine State, I relaxed, knowing I had left my beautiful home and my black cat named Fritz in good hands.
Now before I go any further there is something you should probably know about Fred. Things have a way of happening to him. They just do - even when it’s not his fault. So I guess that as our Space Mountain bound jet crested above the clouds and I looked over at my lovely wife and wonderful children, a little voice from somewhere far away inside my head could faintly be heard, saying - “Go back you idiot”.
Fred had at the time a lovely young woman of around 21 or 22 who worked for him. She still lived at home with her very over-protective parents. Her father is a minister. Never having much opportunity to spread her wings, the girl’s hopes soared when she heard that Fred would be house sitting for me. Fred claims that she was relentless in her pleas to use the house for just one night. She said that she and her cousin would be the only ones there. They would watch a movie and turn in early. She just had to get away from her parents, if only for a night.
And so, old softhearted Fred, who thought that house sitting meant giving up the keys to the first pretty face that comes along, did just that.
The next day when he showed up at work, there was the girl. He asked her if everything had gone all right and she said yes. Then he asked her for the keys and she again begged for just one more night. This time, Fred claimed, he was a rock. No, no, a thousand times no he told her. But she must have asked him a thousand and one.
The next day when Fred came into the office the girl was not there. When nine o’clock rolled around he was pretty concerned and began calling the house. No answer. Finally at ten he decided to drive over and check it out. It was a rainy, cold day, and when he pulled up in front of the house it was pouring. His initial reaction when looking at the house was relief, because it was still there. The girl’s car was parked in the circular driveway. Then he noticed an odd thing - the front door was wide open.
He ran from his car to the entrance but stopped before going in because he saw another oddity. Our black cat, Fritz, was near the front door under a bush, and soaked to the bone. Fred’s detective mind wondered why a cat would rather stay outside in a cold rain than move into his own warm home. This chilled Fred a little. Nevertheless he moved ahead.
Inside, the 2-story foyer looked normal. He called the girl’s name just as a very wet feline streaked past him and up the stairs. Again Fred called out the girl’s name. No answer.
He moved into the family room and saw where the party had been. There were many glasses, some empty and some half-full, with some orange-colored drink in them. The TV was on and there was a movie in the VCR. It was The Exorcist. He walked into the kitchen and found some empty pints of peach schnapps next to a blender and some cartons of orange juice. It was the perfect combo – drinking Fuzzy Navels while watching Linda Blair spew green pea soup onto a priestly father figure.
Fred, now hopefully hating himself, walked up the stairs to the master bedroom. Fritz was lounging there, licking himself dry. He looked up as Fred passed as if to say – “good luck talking your way out of this big boy.” In the master bath the large whirlpool tub was full. The water, or whatever was in it, was purple. There were women’s clothes and shoes on the floor.
Fred left the house and drove back to work hoping to find the girl. He arrived but she had not shown up yet. He called her parent’s home. They did not know her whereabouts. They did know something however because her father said, “I think you better meet me back at your friend’s house.” Back inside my now pagan home, the father told Fred that his daughter had called him last night by mistake. She was obviously intoxicated and when he began to question her she quickly got off the phone. He knew where she was and immediately drove over. But when he arrived no one was there. He said that both the front and back door were open. He knew his daughter had sounded distraught on the phone and when he looked out in the back yard and saw the pond he assumed she had thrown herself in; a logical conclusion. He called 911 and a rescue unit showed up and began dragging the pond for a body. This went on for a while until some friend of the girls who had apparently been at the party showed up and told them the girl was not in the pond but was hiding out because she was so scared. The rescue unit was called in and everyone went home. I guess they were all so relieved that no one remembered to shut the front door.