Fri. May 8, 1970
After a seance at the Old House, Barnabas Collins is now inhabiting the body of John Jaeger... Not wanting to return to the Old House and face Angelique, Barnabas has been hiding out at the apartment of local Blue Whale waitress, Buffie Harrington... But on this night, Barnabas fears he has been discovered…
"John, over here!" Horace called out again. John barely glanced over at Horace as he strode over to the bar. Horace was sure that John could hear him. Horace got up and walked over to the bar. He tapped John on the shoulder, who jumped and looked at him with surprise. "John, didn't you hear me? Where have you been?" Horace exclaimed.
Barnabas turned red, flush with embarrassment. "Um, I um, was thinking about something…" Barnabas stammered, grasping for something to answer with. "And the music was distracting me, I thought you were talking to someone else," he gestured around to the empty room.
"Right," Horace said. "What's that? What are you doing with that cane?" Horace gestured down to the wolf's head cane that Barnabas held against the floor.
Barnabas glanced down with surprise. "Oh, um, I found this in an antique shop today… I thought I'd look stylish with an old silver walking cane!"
"Okay," Horace was concerned. "Angelique has been looking for you. She said you didn't come back home after the séance last night."
Barnabas' face lit up with recognition, realizing who the man was, now. "Oh, the séance!" He stopped, realizing that John would know very well who he was, and that Horace was from the séance last night. "Oh, I don't want to deal with things like that anymore. I had to get out of that house. It's got…" Barnabas searched for the right words that John Jaeger would say, "Bad vibes!"
"Bad vibes…" Horace murmured. Between the walking stick, the general way that John was composing himself, and the strange accent he was now speaking in, it was as if John was acting like a different person. "Okay, John. I just realized I have to be somewhere right now… I'll see you later." Horace gave him a grin and hurried over to the table he was sitting at to grab his coat and leave.
As Horace left he bar, Barnabas watched him, noting how nervous Horace was acting. Barnabas scowled, quite sure that Horace was going to report right back to Angelique and tell her about the wolf's head cane…
Around the corner from the Blue Whale, Horace found a payphone and stepped inside. "What was Angelique's new number he again?" he asked himself out loud. He put a dime in the payphone and began to dial. He had spent all day looking for John for Angelique, and he was quite anxious to get home and make himself some dinner. "Come on, Angelique… Answer the damn phone!" Horace exclaimed. After letting the phone ring about twenty times, Horace hung up the phone in frustration. "Maybe she's at Collinwood…" he muttered to himself. He pulled out his little black book from inside his coat pocket and looked for the number. While his head was down, a silver wolf's head loomed above his head…
Barnabas stood just outside the phone booth, the handle of his cane ready to strike a killing blow to the back of Horace's head. Horace, suddenly feeling like someone was watching him, stopped from putting the dime back in the payphone again and gasped at the sight of Barnabas standing before him.
"John!" he exclaimed. Barnabas lowered the cane nervously and set it down on the ground. "I didn't here you come up behind me…" Horace looked down at the wolf's head cane, wondering again where it REALLY came from. If he didn't know better, he swore that John was ready to strike him with it.
"I was just wondering…" Barnabas stammered. "I-uh needed a lift back to Angelique's place, and I was just wondering if you would take me…"
"You want to go back to Angelique's?" Horace asked incredulously. He stared at him for a moment.
"Yes…" Barnabas tried to smile pleasantly. "I'm sure she misses me… I didn't come home last night, and it's a long walk…"
"All right, I can take you…" Horace answered. It was just as well if he delivered John back to Angelique in person, he thought to himself. "My car's just down the street…" He glanced back down at the wolf's head cane, and made sure that he didn't stand in front of John, just in case…
Act One:
Buffie stood outside the office of Detective Larry Chase, and took a deep breath. Now that Dameon was dead, it was all up to her. Dameon had instructed her what to do if something happened to him, but she wasn't sure if she could go through with it. "This is it, old girl…" she murmured to herself. "It's either this or stay a waitress for the rest of your life…" She grimaced at the thought of being sixty or seventy years old, with cake-on makeup and a beehive hairdo, and still working dead-end jobs in greasy-spoon diners and bars from here to Worcester…
She gathered up her courage and rapped on the frosted glass of the door. "Come in…" a man's voice called out. She opened the door and faced who she presumed to be Detective Chase. "Can I help you?" the man at the desk asked. She noticed that his eyes traveled down her body, and she hoped that he would be an easy conquest.
She shut the door behind her and stepped forward. She took another breath and moistened her lips, staring at the middle-aged man. "Mr. Chase? I'm Buffie… Buffie Harrington. I need to talk to you about someone—someone who shouldn't be here!"
Larry leaned forward. "Oh? Why don't you have a seat?" He gestured to a chair in front of the desk.
"Thank you," she smiled sadly. She sat in the chair and put her pocketbook on her lap. You see—you've arrested the wrong man! My boyfriend didn't kill Dameon, I'm sure of it!"
Larry looked surprised. "Your boyfriend… You mean Quentin Collins, don't you?" How many girlfriends does this Quentin Collins have? Larry thought to himself. He thought of Angelique Rumson, who had followed them to the police station and had stayed until Quentin's lawyer took her out after Larry made her leave.
Buffie nodded slowly. "Yes, I mean Quentin Collins… We've been seeing each other for almost a month. I'm sure not many people know about us, yet, but we've fallen in love over the past few weeks."
"Really?" Larry asked, intrigued. He wondered to himself if Angelique Rumson knew about Buffie. "And what, exactly, makes you think that Quentin didn't kill Dameon?"
At that moment, Buffie made herself cry a little. It wasn't hard to do—after all, she was in mourning for Dameon—and as she began to sob Larry reached over for his box of green Kleenex and handed it to her. "Thank you," she sniffled, dabbing the corners of her eyes so that her thick eyeliner would not run too much. "Well, Mister Chase—"
"You can call me Larry," he insisted. "Take your time, Miss Harrington… Do you need a cup of water, or something?"
Buffie shook her head. "No thank you, LARRY… I'm a little embarrassed to tell you how I know… What time did Dameon die that day?"
"Between four-thirty and five p.m., the coroner decided," Larry answered, templing his fingers, wondering just where this was headed.
"Well…" Buffie looked down and pursed her lips. "You see Mister… LARRY, Quentin couldn't have killed Dameon Edwards… You see, he was with me—alone—in my apartment after the funeral. He was there from at least three p.m., and all the rest of the evening." She glanced up at Larry and batted her eyelashes.
Larry leaned back in his chairs and stared at her a moment. "I see… Well, Miss Harrington—Buffie," he said, giving the pretty blonde a smile back. "You see, Buffie, Quentin insisted that he and Dameon were alone at Collinwood, and that Quentin accidentally pushed Dameon to his death…" Larry leaned forward again. "So one of you isn't telling me the truth. Why would Quentin say he was at Collinwood if he was with you? And why take responsibility for Dameon's death?"
"He was trying to protect me," Buffie answered. "He didn't want Angelique Rumson to know about us yet, so he couldn't very well say he was at my apartment after the funeral, could he?" Buffie hoped that THAT sounded convincing.
Larry narrowed his eyes, thinking. He could understand Quentin lying, IF he was having a relationship with two women at the same time. But what about the button from Quentin's coat? Was it all just a big coincidence? "Curiouser and curiouser," Larry murmured…
Act Two:
As Horace Gladstone drove Barnabas back to the Old House, Barnabas thought about what he was going to do. For his plan to work, Angelique could not be home yet. If she was home, he would have to convince her that nothing was amiss. He would have to save his plan for later. He glanced over at Horace as he drove. This was it, his chance to live a normal life and be free of his curse forever—and Angelique might never know! Barnabas glanced down at his wolf's head cane. Why had he been so stupid as to steal it back from Julia? If Angelique WAS home and saw it, she would be suspicious… Barnabas tried to shake that thought out of his mind. Things had to work out the way he wanted for once, they just had to! Why would he be given this new body if it wasn't meant to be!
When they arrived at the Old House, Barnabas was once again surprised to see an electrical lamp burning outside on the front yard. He was a little wistful that so much had been changed, but maybe it was for the best. He had to accept now that life would never be the same again. The Old House and all its memories were no longer his. Along with his new body, he had to live a brand new life. One away from Angelique, the Old House, and that disgusting form he had become that was lying trapped inside the Secret Room.
"Are you all right, John?" Horace asked glancing down at the younger man with a strange mixture of nervousness and concern. Horace was more convinced than ever that something had happened to John at the séance the night before.
"What?" Barnabas was still startled to be called by that new name. "Oh, yes, I'm just a little worried about facing Angelique… She's going to be so 'ticked' off when she sees me!" Barnabas tried to give a little light-hearted chuckle, but it felt unnatural to him.
Horace smiled, "Right, so we'd best get inside!" One of the famous Collinsport rainstorms had started splattering on the car windshield, and Barnabas realized for the first time since inhabiting this new mortal body that he had not experienced the rain yet.
Horace hurried to the front door of the Old House, a single electric lamp in the front window was on—it certainly did not look like anyone else was home yet. He glanced back at the younger man. "John! What are you doing? You're going to catch your death!"
Barnabas looked up at the rain, the drops falling on his face made him shiver all over. When he was a vampire, he was easily able to avoid them, and the cold and wet never bothered him. He had forgotten how exhilarating it was to be uncomfortably cold and wet. He laughed naturally this time, letting the rain hit his tongue.
"John, come on!" Horace shouted. Barnabas hurried to join him under the porch and fished through his poncho for the housekey. Letting them inside, Barnabas looked out at the front lawn, as a lightning flash illuminated the front yard. He shut the door behind them.
Barnabas turned around and looked at the new, foreign Old House in the dim light. Horace found the light switch in the foyer and illuminated them from above. Barnabas looked up, surprised yet again that there was electric light in his ancestral home.
Horace looked concernedly at John. Then looked around the foyer. He called up the stairs. "Angelique! Angelique, are you home?" No answer.
Barnabas walked over to the mirror again and marveled over his new appearance. Another thing that he had thought he would never miss—seeing himself in the mirror! Barnabas touched his face and stared at his mass of blond, curly hair that hung down with the weight of the raindrops that dripped down from his locks.
Horace looked over at him and shook his head. He hung up his own wet coat and said, "Well, it doesn't look like she's home, yet. Why don't we build a fire in the fireplace and get warmed up before I head back home. I'd like to see Angelique before I leave."
Barnabas continued to stare at the tall young man looking back at him from the mirror world. "What? Oh… yeah…" He took off his poncho and hung it up on the coat rack, then looked down at the wolf's head cane, realizing again what he had to do. This was the time to do it, while Angelique was still gone.
Walking into the drawing room, he saw Horace bending over the firewood next to the fireplace, placing a few logs into it. Gathering up all of his strength, Barnabas lifted up his cane and struck down on Horace with all his might…
Act Three:
"Augh!" Horace screamed raspily. He lay on the floor in front of the fireplace and held up his hands in front of him to half-heartedly protect himself from another blow. He grabbed the back of his head in pain and stared in disbelief at the tall young man looming above him, brandishing the silver cane. The light behind him illuminated his blond curls like some sort of beautiful angel of death. "John! What are you doing?" Horace brought his hand down from the back of his head and looked at his palm. It was covered with blood.
Barnabas smiled bitterly and shook his head. "I'm not John, Horace… You made a big mistake bringing me back here." Barnabas brought the cane down again and again, beating Horace all over his body. Horace screamed with pain and fear. Barnabas stopped and breathed heavily. It was exhilarating—to be mortal and to have to kill like a mortal. He almost felt sorry for the man who lay on the floor, bloody and groaning with pain. But Barnabas thought of the reward if this worked. He decided he might as well tell Horace who he was before he finished him off for good.
Barnabas stooped down and kneeled beside Horace. Horace cringed in fear, the blood oozing from his head stinging his eyes as he looked at who he still thought was John. "I'm Barnabas Collins," he told the other man matter-of-factly. "I've been locked up in my coffin for a month now, and Angelique has known about this whole time!"
"Coffin?" Horace gasped, feeling dizzy from the pain. "What coffin?"
"I'm a vampire, Horace, at least I was, until I took over this body during the séance." Barnabas glanced at the bookcase that fronted the Secret Room. "Would you like to see it, Horace? One last time before you go? The coffin of Barnabas Collins?"
"No-o!" Horace gasped, wanting nothing more than to get away from this insane young man who was going to kill him. "No, please! I'll do anything! Don't do this John!"
"I told you, I'm Barnabas Collins!" Barnabas snapped. He got up and walked to the bookcase, moving the lever to open the Secret Room. The bookcase moved with a terrific groan across the new floor, scraping it. He went back to Horace and stooped beside him, helping him sit up.
Horace tried to struggle as Barnabas helped him up, but he was too weak and dizzy. He wiped at the blood in his eyes and felt Barnabas' strong arms hold him up against him as they walked behind the bookcase. "No-no!" Horace gasped as he saw what waited for them inside the dark, ancient room.
Barnabas let Horace slide down to the stone floor of the Secret Room. He looked down at the coffin that still housed his old body and shuddered to himself. THIS is where he had been trapped for the past month. This was his prison. He reached out to tentatively touch the chains that wrapped around it.
He turned back to Horace. "See this coffin, Mr. Gladstone? This is where I was trapped by Dr. Julia Hoffman, and Mr. Willie Loomis—here!" He turned back to the coffin. "Night after night I lay in this small box, unable to move, unable to get out and see the moon and stars! Night after night I crave blood, but this cross kept me in!" Barnabas swiped the crucifix off of the coffin and let it hit the wall with a clatter.
While Barnabas was talking, Horace tried to crawl away. He reached the opening to the drawing room, but Barnabas banged his wolf's head cane on the floor next to him. "No, Mr. Gladstone! I need you here, in this room! When Pandora's Box is opened, you will be it's first victim!" Barnabas lifted up the cane again to deliver one final, fatal blow…
After it was over, Barnabas left Horace's body in the Secret Room. Closing the bookcase behind him, Barnabas made sure to check for any blood on the floor that Horace might have left while he was still bleeding out onto the drawing room floor. Luckily for Barnabas, it was all on the stone floor in front of the fireplace, and was easily cleaned off.
Barnabas noticed that it was getting late, and Angelique still wasn't home. He wondered if he would even need to come up with an excuse for where he had been all day. But, there was still the matter of Horace's car. Barnabas put his poncho back on and took Horace's coat with him, deciding to drive Horace's car a mile away down the road and leaving it there. Barnabas glanced back at Angelique's portrait, smiling at him from across the room. He smiled and shook his head. "You lose, Angelique! I'm ending all of it—and there's nothing you can do about it—nothing!" He turned out the foyer light and opened the front door, the lightning outside silhouetting him as he stood in the doorway…
Cast:
Buffie Harrington… ELIZABETH EIS
Horace Gladstone… JOHN HARKINS
Larry Chase… KEN MCEWEN
and
Barnabas Collins/John Jaeger… CHRISTOPHER PENNOCK