The Lurker at the Threshold : A Horror Mystery

for me?  We were in the business of finding stolen items, missing persons, tracking unfaithful husbands and wives.  We’ve moved up.  We’ve gone into bigger and better things.  We are now in the business of making monsters disappear.  We have found our calling.  With that said, this thing does look like it’s made out of something unnatural.”
“Certain editions are made from human skin and inked in human blood.”
“Does that add value to it or decrease it?” he said.
“You’re not that stupid.”
“Maybe we can sell it.”
“I don’t want anyone else to have that thing.”
“Thank you for humbling me.”
“So, what should we do with it?”
He shrugged.  “I was thinking of taking it to Capshaw.  I bet he knows something about it.”
Millie brightened at this prospect.  Her eyes lit up.  “Dev, that’s the brightest idea you’ve had all day!”
“That’s twice you ‘sort of’ complimented me and ended up insulting me instead.”
“Who said I was trying to compliment you?”

Chapter 3
They parked the coupe at the curb, got out, and headed for the entrance.  It was 10:00 am. The Natural History Museum was an opulent, white sandstone building three floors high.  Macky wanted to shower and get some breakfast, but the Danish at the coffee shop would have to do.
Deb was at the reception desk, the same girl Macky had met when he’d talked to Capshaw about that Bluebell business two years ago.  Deb had flirted crazily with him at the time, and he’d flirted crazily back.  He’d sung to her, and she’d been enchanted.  She’d given him her phone number, but he’d never called her, and, of course, he’d never told Millie, which, now that he was here, might’ve been a bad idea.
Deb was wearing a tight, white pearl-colored blouse and a dark blue skirt.  She had a necklace and earrings to match.  Dark blue pumps were on her feet, reminding Macky of a blue-eyed diamond ring.  Her platinum hair was curled like the sky in Van Gogh’s “Starry Night.”
“Devlin Macky, is that you?” she asked, smiling.
“How’s business, Deb?”
“You were supposed to call me?”
“I was?”
Millie raised her eyebrows, tilted her head, and looked at Macky.
“It slipped my mind,” he said.  “With Dagon terrorizing the city, and the Shady District awash in flames, I must’ve forgot.”
She turned and looked Millie up and down.  A sneer curled her lips, and her eyes darkened.  Millie saw the whole thing and raised her eyebrows at Deb.
“Is Mr. Capshaw in?” Macky asked.
“Of course he is, Dev.  You’re always welcome, you know that.  He’s probably fawning over his latest find. Go ahead and go up.”
“Thanks.”
“No serenade today?” she flirted.
“Oh, boy,” Millie said, under her breath, and rolled her eyes.
“Pardon?” he asked.
“She asked you for a serenade, you big, strong sailor,” Millie said.  She laced her fingers together, put them on Macky’s shoulder, and lifted one leg.  She batted her eyes and pouted her lips.  “What do you say?  Can you woo two ladies at once, Dev?”
Deb narrowed her eyes.
“Ladies, ladies,” Macky said.  “Maybe some other time.  Business first, you know?”
“Ta-ta, Debbie-do,” Millie said, waving her fingers.
They made their way to the elevator.  He opened the cage doors, stepped inside, closed the doors behind him, and pressed the button.  The elevator started up.
“Really, Dev?” Millie said.
“What did I do?” he asked.
“Serenade?  Flirtation.  Did you see the look she gave me?”
“I did not.  Girls like that don’t like competition, I guess.”
“I don’t play those petty high school games.  It’s infantile.  There’s always someone more beautiful and more intelligent than you.  Beauty is only skin deep.  I understand that’s all some people care about, but I find it shallow and superficial.”
“She’s got nothing on you anyway, Mill.”
“Really?”
“I never called her, you know?”
“But you still have her number?”
Macky shook his head.  “Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.  As a matter of fact, I tossed it in the first garbage can I saw.”
“What does that mean?  ‘Damned if you do, damned if you don’t’?”
“I noticed you chose to focus on that phrase and not the other.”
“There was another?”
“It’s a figure of speech, Mill.”
“It’s sexist.  I know what you’re driving at.”
“It’s not sexist.  You think if I wink at you, it’s sexist.”
“It is.”
“Like I said, damned if you do . . .”
They were quiet for a while as the elevator chugged along.
“Dev?”
“Yeah?”
“Did you really serenade her?”
“I-can-see-the-morning-sun, like-dewdrops-in-the-rain . . . It-sparkles-in-your-fancy-dress and-makes-me-go-insaaane.”
“It must be an acquired taste,” she said.
—
Creighton Capshaw looked exactly how Macky remembered him.  It had been a while.  Still portly, he had salt-and-pepper hair and a beard to match.  He wore tiny spectacles on a round, pink-skinned, cherubic face.  His suit was a woolen, charcoal gray with a waistcoat and pants to match.  A pearl-white, silk, polka-dotted bowtie was neatly wrapped under the collar.  The bowler hat that completed this ensemble was hanging on the coat rack behind him.  The smile and gleam in his eyes were the same.  Since Haddonfield and Dagon, Capshaw had grown close to Macky and Millie, giving them a tour of the museum after the business was over.
Unlike Millie, Capshaw was delighted to see The Necronomicon.  His eyes went to it right away.
“Do you mind, Dev?” Capshaw asked.
“Of course not,” Macky said.  “We were hoping you could tell us a little about it.  Maybe even what to do with it.  It came into—”
“How did it come into your possession?” the small man asked.
Macky coughed into his hand.  “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“How did it come into your possession, Dev?” Millie asked, raising her eyebrow.
“That’s enough,” Macky said.
Millie nudged him in the side.
“What?”
“Just tell him.”
Macky scratched his stubble-lined chin.  “I . .