(This is continued from last week) 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 two-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 Navel’s 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’d 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 girl’s 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. We returned from our trip to Orlando to a clean house. But after finding some strange wine glasses and a couple of jiggers that said “Welcome to Vegas” in our dishwasher, then a purple negligee and pair of woman’s shoes in the bedroom closet, we called Fred, who quickly broke down and confessed his sin. But with no body ever found in the pond and no damages other than a soggy cat, we were thankful for the story, which most people, even to this day, still don’t believe could possibly be true.