ACADEMY OF THE UNDEAD; BOOK TWO Stand Together ... Or Fall Together
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The Laveau Voodoos, April 1995

Clinton Stanley had never been so uncomfortable.

The last week of his life had been the worst week of his life, and emotionally he was still buried deep in the grieving process. He had witnessed his wife being slain brutally, and he knew that the horrific images of the assault would be with him until his dying day, yet physically numbed and emotionally dismantled, here he was, faced with the harshest degree of discomfort that he had ever endured. He knew that to undo what had transpired in the previous week, he didn’t need to engage with efficient and ethical business people, he would need to engage with the shady and detestable characters of societies underbelly. His shady and morally challenged contact had told Stanley that he could arrange it, and even though Stanley wasn’t convinced that it could happen, if even the slightest chance existed, he was prepared to investigate it thoroughly. So here he was in the backwoods of New Orleans, on an isolated farm, miles from anywhere, staring at two very strange people. In the middle of the night.

The man was possibly in his mid-forties, and he had olive-brown skin, his colouring tending to suggest that multiple races had been involved in his conception. He had long, dark, wavy hair that spilled half-way down his back, and while lacking any muscle definition, his arms were large and his legs thick. His chest was broad, and he had a prominent belly. Clinton Stanley could describe the man’s body in great detail, because it was all on display, and the man’s nudity was one of the many reasons for Stanley’s discomfort.

“Before we begin, can I make a request?” Stanley asked.

“Please, go ahead.”

“I’m not entirely comfortable with your manner of dress.”

The man went and sat behind a desk, and he lit and then sucked on a brightly coloured bong, and after blowing out smoothly, he asked casually, “And the request is?”

Stanley assumed that the request had already been subtly presented, but as he watched the smoke lazily dissipate, he said, “I would be most appreciative if you could slip something on.”

With a measure of offence in his gaze and his tone, the man replied, “My digs, my rules.”

Stanley frowned, then tip-toed up to his next point of concern. “Okay, well can I speak to you privately?”

“My friend, you are speaking to me privately.”

Stanley glanced at the girl, then turned his attention back to the naked man. “This is a very confidential matter, and I would like to speak to you privately.”

The man drew back again, then after blowing a collection of smoky rings into the air, he said, “Chester, introduce yourself.”

The girl said, “My name is Chester.”

“Chester is my bodyguard, and she never leaves my side, so if you wish to do business with me, please, speak.”

Stanley glanced at the girl again. In her late teens, the girl also appeared as if there had been multiple races involved in her conception. Her skin was darker than the man, a solid brown; and one could guess that either one player in her conception was an African American, or else the girl was a regular solarium user. Her long black hair was braided in neat, distinct lines, the end of the braids all featuring collections of small, coloured beads, and the hair-style helped Stanley assume that she wasn’t a solarium user. Bizarrely, Stanley found himself thinking about her glorious colour, and he imagined himself asking a Caucasian girl, For your skin colour, would you like to be plain white, or pale white, or would you prefer to look like this girl? Maybe the Caucasian girl would reply, No, I’m happy the way I am. Then Stanley would watch the Caucasian girl as she scampered into a tanning studio. The girl’s skin colour was delightfully aesthetic, and she had an attractive face that showcased sparkling green eyes, although attractive as she was, her manner of dress was unflattering. She was wearing green army camouflage pants and a black singlet, and while he hadn’t seen her standing, he assumed that she was maybe 5’3” and quite slender. Being a successful businessman in the often unscrupulous and unethical world of finance, Stanley had hired the occasional bodyguard to help him though tricky situations, although the bodyguards he tended to hire were the 6’4”, 250-pound, masculine ex-Marine types. This man’s bodyguard would have trouble intimidating a pre-teen school student, although Stanley reflected drolly, if someone was to be undressed for this meeting, he would have much preferred it to be the girl.

It appeared that his two immediate concerns were not going to be addressed, so Stanley drew in a breath, then said quietly, “Okay, well yes, I was told that you may be able to help me.”

“Who told you where to replace us?”

“Jaxon Cleaves.”

“Of course; please continue.”

Stanley was so uncomfortable about everything that he felt dizzy, although he was here, in their presence, so continuing, tiptoeing forward made sense, because he owed it to his wife. Raising his gaze to meet the man’s, he said, “So, my wife died last week, and I was shocked and devastated, and in the utter confusion and chaos that last week turned out to be, well, Jaxon Cleaves approached me, and he ummm … he spoke to me.”

“Sure,” the man replied, “Tell me about your wife.”

“Iveta, well Iveta was killed, and Jaxon Cleaves said that you might be able to help me.”

“How was she killed?”

“Do you need to know?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Well, there are elements of what happened to her that are a bit ummm … strange, and I’d rather keep it private.”

The man turned side-on in the chair, and he placed his bare feet on the girl’s lap as he pushed back in the reclining chair. Sucking on the bong again, he held for a moment, blew out smoothly, then said, “Good sir, let me make one thing quiet clear; if you wish to engage my services, you need to tell me everything, and that means that you tell me everything that happened to your wife, and I also need to know every single detail about your wife, because it is only when I have all the facts available, that I can then decide what the most appropriate course of action will be.”

“Okay, certainly.” Stanley replied. He composed himself, then he said with a waver in his voice, “She, my wife was murdered.”

“How?”

“She, she was attacked.”

“How did she die?”

“Well, she died as a result of the attack.”

“Was she shot?”

“No.”

“Stabbed?”

“No.”

“Strangled, beaten to death?”

“No.”

The man glanced at him, raised his eyebrows, then said blandly, “How about you tell me what caused her death.”

Stanley thought about it, then muttered, “Her, her neck was severely damaged in the attack.”

“Well she wasn’t strangled or knifed, so what happened to her neck?”

“Ummm, somebody damaged her neck in the attack.”

The man remained in his relaxed pose as he asked, “Chester, if I was going to ask you to provide me with every single detail of an event, how would you respond?”

“I’d be straight up with you Boss, and I’d give you every single detail.”

The man lazily glanced across at Stanley, then asked, “How about you try travelling down that same route?”

Stanley blew out in mild frustration, then said, “Okay, well she, Iveta, someone savaged her neck, I mean they bit her and chewed through her neck.”

“Finally, we’re getting somewhere,” the man acknowledged, “Do you know who bit her?”

“Yes.”

“Go on.”

“What?”

“Someone chewed through your wife’s neck and killed her, and you know who the person is, so my presumption is that the person is currently in police custody.”

So uncomfortable, Stanley offered quietly, “Ummm, this is where it gets a bit tricky.”

“In what respect?”

“Well, under the circumstances, and I might add, the circumstances surrounding this event were very strange, I mean I’m still struggling to come to grips with what I saw; but, I, well, under the circumstances, I felt that the matter may be better handled without involving the police.”

“What you saw?” the man repeated, then he glanced at Stanley and asked curiously, “Are you saying that you saw the person biting your wife on the neck?”

“Well, yes.”

“So you know the person who killed your wife, and you actually saw that person killing her?”

“No, I don’t know the person, but I did see what they did to my wife.”

“Can I ask you a very personal question?”

“Of course.”

“Are you a human being?”

Stanley shook his head in confusion as he said, “I’m not sure what you mean by that.”

“Good sir, there are all manner of beings co-existing on this planet, and my presumption is that you belong to the dominant species, which of course are human beings.”

“Well, I am a human being … just like you.”

The man and the girl exchanged a glance.

The man relaxed back and said, “From my own personal experiences of having once been a human being, I would suggest that if someone saw his partner being murdered, the obvious thing to do would be to report it to the police.”

“Well like I said, there were unusual circumstances that had me hoping to keep the matter private,” Stanley replied, then he asked, “Did you say, having once been a human being?”

“Yeah, he did say that.” Chester replied.

“Alright, well I guess I’m wondering what you mean by that.”

The man smiled at the girl as he said to her, “Jaxon Cleaves is a good operator, because he provides us with leads and importantly, he keeps his mouth shut.”

“Hmmm, he’s okay … for a human.” Chester stated.

The man swung his legs off the girl, swivelled forward, then clasped his hands together on the table as he leant forward. “Let’s not dilly-dally good sir, because I want you to spell it out for me. Why are you here?”

“Well Jaxon Cleaves said that you might be able to help me.”

“Help you do what?”

“Well, my wife, you know …”

“Spell it out for me, tell me what you want me to do.”

“Mr Cleaves, he said that you may be able to, ummm … you know, resurrect her, bring her back to life.”

The man nodded and said wryly, “After a stuttered and laborious conversation, we have finally arrived at the reason for this meeting. Now, you saw the person who killed your wife?”

“Yes I did.”

“Was there anything unusual about this person?”

“I would say that biting someone’s neck should qualify as unusual.”

“Yes, I agree,” the man nodded, then he asked casually, “Was the person a vampire?”

Stanley rocked back in surprise. “I beg your pardon?”

“Was the person who killed your wife a vampire?”

“I would suggest that the person was a crazed lunatic.”

“A lot of vampires tend to come under that category.” Chester said nonchalantly.

“Ummm, vampires are the product of fantasy and mythology.” Stanley offered.

“Ohhh, interesting,” the man began, “You are open to the possibility that I may be able to resurrect your dead wife, yet you are not open to the possibility that vampires exist?”

“They do Bro, trust me.” Chester said glibly.

Bemused by the conversation, Stanley said quietly, “With the advances in modern technology, anything could be possible in the medical field these days, so I was prepared to talk to you on the off chance that you could help me.”

“I may help you, so tell me about the person who killed your wife.”

“Okay, well it was a female, a young woman, ummm, I’m not sure, maybe mid-twenties, and she would be easily recognized, because she had an unusual hair-style.”

The man glanced at Chester, then he turned back as he asked, “Please describe the hair-style.”

“It was one of those mohawk things, and it had all different colours through it.”

The man leant back in his chair and said quietly, “Taylee Crezenski.”

“Hmmm, I don’t know Boss.” Chester muttered.

“A brightly coloured mohawk; it has to be her.”

“From what I know of her, she’s from the Mephistopheles Clan, and she doesn’t randomly kill, she disposes of bad-asses.”

“Yes, I have heard that,” the man replied, then he faced Stanley and asked, “To your knowledge, did your wife ever do anything naughty in her life, and I mean really naughty.”

Stanley flinched, then said timidly, “To the best of my knowledge, no.”

“Okay, well we might have identified your wife’s killer, but I’m just curious here; you saw this girl biting your wife’s neck, but did the girl see you?”

“Yes, she did.”

The man raised his eyebrows and said, “I must say, if it was Taylee Crezenski, I’m surprised that you are still with us.”

“Me too.” Chester agreed.

“Well, when I got home that night, I heard noises in the basement, and I thought it might be my wife indulging in her little, little, ummm, … hobby, and I saw the girl doing, you know, doing what she was doing, so I was obviously horrified and I froze in terror, but when the girl looked up at me and then came at me, I was lucky enough to lock myself in the cage.”

The man glanced at the girl again, then he asked Stanley, “Cage, you have a cage in your basement?”

“Yes.”

“What, like an animal cage?”

“Ummm, no, it’s not really an animal cage.”

“What kind of cage is it.”

“Is this important?” Stanley asked.

“I would suggest that the only reason you are alive today is that you were able to lock yourself in a cage, so yes, it is important.”

Stanley’s level of discomfort was increasing by the minute, although he was here now, sitting before the man who could supposedly help him, so he lowered his gaze and said quietly, “It’s, it’s kind of like a prison cell, you know, just a small prison cell tucked into the corner of the room.”

“A prison cell?”

“I am a very wealthy man, and the house is massive, and it has many unusual, ummm … features.” Stanley offered.

“Yeah, what every fun-loving, wealthy couple needs; a small prison cell tucked in the corner of the basement.” Chester said wryly.

“What is the purpose of the prison cell?” the man asked.

“This is actually one of the areas that I would like to skip over.” Stanley replied testily.

“Good sir, to help us understand why your wife was killed, I would like you to skip into that area and tell us why you have a prison cell in your basement.”

Stanley flopped his face into his left hand, and he stayed that way for minutes. When he brought his gaze back up, he sighed and said, “Before I tell you about my wife, I need to know if there are any boundaries or guidelines in what you do.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you resurrect anyone, or are they certain moral or character guidelines that you need to adhere to? I guess what I’m asking is, do you resurrect people who may have done a few naughty things?”

“I am a businessman, and I am deeply attracted to money, so I don’t base my assignments on morals or principles, I work for people who can afford to pay me, I mean if somebody had of paid me, I would have resurrected Adolf Hitler.”

“Possibly before your time.” Stanley noted.

Chester chuckled.

“For Taylee Crezenski to kill your wife, and let me just add here, Taylee Crezenski is a vampire; your wife may have had a few skeletons in the closet.”

“Or a few skeletons in the prison cell in the basement.” Chester noted.

“Yes indeed; so tell me, tell me everything about your wife.”

“Okay, but I just want your confirmation that if I tell you what she did, you will still resurrect her?”

“You have my confirmation.”

“Okay, well then …” Stanley sighed, then he continued with his face lowered. “Iveta grew up in Hungary, and she was a very pretty girl, but her parents were poor, and they were also quite unstable. The version I got was that the parents subjected Iveta to abuses that no young girl should be exposed to, and when she was eleven, she killed both her parents while they were sleeping.”

“If I was to make a comment,” the man began, “In those circumstances, I think the vampire Taylee Crezenski would be more likely to go after the parents rather than the girl.”

“Yeah I agree Boss, although she couldn’t fly out to Hungary, especially as the girl had already killed the parents.”

Stanley fidgeted, then said quietly, “Well, that’s not all, there’s more.”

“Go ahead.”

“Wanting to escape the memories, her Aunty, Martina, brought Iveta to the States, and I ended up hiring Martina as a live-in house-keeper not long after. Iveta was fourteen at that time, and even as a young teenager, she was a very attractive girl. As the years flew by, I became deeply attracted to her, and we began a relationship. We married six years ago when she was twenty-one, and things were okay for awhile, until four years ago when her Aunty just vanished. I asked Iveta, Where is your Aunty? Iveta said that she’d gone away. Later on that same year, our new house-keeper disappeared, and when I questioned Iveta, she said, She’s gone away. Anyway, over the years, another three housekeepers mysteriously vanished, and I was more bemused than suspicious, because I loved Iveta. She had grown into a stunningly gorgeous young woman, and I was very much in love with her. As a partner, she was perfect, and she never argued with me or caused any problems, and of course my business was booming by then and we lived in the mansion of our dreams. I told her that she could buy whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted, but Iveta had little interest in material possessions. I wanted to make her twenty-fifth birthday special, so I said to her, I will buy you anything you want, anything at all, and yeah …”

“Okay, you have me intrigued, please continue.” the man said.

“Me too.” Chester added.

“For her twenty-fifth birthday she said that she wanted a girl, and at the time I thought, Wow, that’s more like a present for me, you know, watching my gorgeous wife get sexually involved with another female; but no, Iveta didn’t want the girl for sexual purposes. I remember being shocked when she tied the prostitute up and beat her, and I said, What are you doing? She said that sometimes she has nightmares, and I knew that, I mean some nights she tossed and turned for the entire night, obviously reliving the horrors of her childhood. On this night though, the night that she abused the young prostitute, Iveta said, Sometimes I have nightmares, then she looked at me blankly, and it was almost like she was in a trance as she added, And sometimes I want to be the nightmare. So yeah, from there on in, she took me on the ride to Hell with her.”

“So let me get this straight, your wife killed that prostitute, and from the ending of your statement, I’m guessing that she wasn’t the only one.”

“Yes, she did kill that girl, and no, she wasn’t the only one.”

“How many girls did she kill?”

“If I include her Aunty and the house-keepers who mysteriously disappeared, eleven in all.”

“Holy Toledo, so if we also include her parents, we come up with lucky thirteen,” Chester reflected, “So well done Taylee, you stopped her right on the Devil’s Number.”

“Just an observation here,” the man said, “It appears that you were complicit in the last few murders.”

“I don’t walk away from my involvement, because I actually began selecting the girls for her, you know, runaways or homeless girls, poor young girls whose disappearance wouldn’t cause or create any suspicions; but I was absolutely besotted with Iveta, and as I later came to actively demonstrate, I would’ve done anything for her.”

“I got a question for you Bro.” Chester said.

“Go ahead.”

“Obviously her upbringing helped create the monster, but weren’t you afraid that one day she would harm you?”

“No.”

“No?”

“She needed me, because I brought the girls to her.”

The man had a big suck on the bong, then rested back as he blew out in short puffs, smoky rings drifting through the room. “Let’s get down to business, the financial side. The payment is one million dollars upfront.”

“Yes, Mister Cleaves did tell me.”

“I’m sure he would have, because he’s become quite reliant on his generous replaceer’s fee.”

“Okay, so if I pay you, you will guarantee that she will be resurrected?”

“No.”

Stanley was a little taken aback, and he said, “If I’m going to pay you such a large sum of money, I would be expecting some kind of guarantee.”

“All I can tell you is that I will try my very best, and I’ll add that I have a very high success rate, but when you are attempting to resurrect a dead human being, there can be no guarantee’s.”

Chester saw the man’s uncertain expression, and she said proudly, “If you need to see before you buy Mister, well look at me.”

Stanley shook his head and muttered, “I don’t follow.”

“Me, Marianne Jennifer Chester, died January twenty-first 1987, resurrected as Chester, January twenty-seventh 1987.”

“It was January twenty-eight, actually.” the man corrected, then he focussed on Stanley. “Your wife passed away less than a week ago, so I would be extremely confident about a successful resurrection.”

“Okay, so what happens next?”

“Get me the money, and also bring me the body.”

“The body?”

The man gazed at him and said wryly, “If I’m making an omelette, I need eggs, if I’m going to resurrect someone, I need a body.”

“But Iveta is buried in the cemetery.”

Chester could see the man’s confusion, and she offered, “If you don’t know how to nick a body from a graveyard, I can help you … for a small fee.”

“How much?”

“Twenty thousand.”

“Okay, yes please arrange it.” Stanley replied, then he focussed on the man again as he said, “Now as one businessman to another, I’m just interested in the breakdown of the one million dollars.”

“Certainly. Seven hundred and fifty thousand is my fee for performing the resurrection, and it compensates me for the great risk I’m taking.”

“There is a risk for you?”

“Of course. Every time I perform a resurrection, I am putting myself at risk, because I am reaching into the black hole that is death. When most people die, their spirits fade quickly, although some spirits do linger, and the spirits that linger don’t tend to be the nice ones. One day I might spirit myself into the black hole of death, and I may not come out again.”

“Well obviously I have no idea what’s involved, but three-quarters of a million for the service sounds reasonable, what’s the breakdown of the remainder?”

“For on going, errr, shall we call it maintenance.”

“Which involves?”

“Once I have resurrected someone, I don’t say, Hey, great, you’re back with us, so just carry on as if nothing has happened; I obey the protocols that I need to obey.”

“I don’t quite follow you.”

“Good sir, if I am successful in bringing your wife back, she won’t be the same person you knew.”

“Probably a good thing.” Chester noted wryly.

“What do you mean?”

“This is all about the physical and the spiritual good sir, the physical carcass and the spiritual being. I will bring her body back to life, but spiritually, she will be vacant.”

“What do you mean by vacant?”

“If somebody dies, well quite simply, they are dead, and every facet of who they were dies. When I resurrect someone, it is the physical being that I am resurrecting, the flesh and bone, and the physical shell normally comes back with a vacant mind.”

“Kinda like a zombie.” Chester threw in.

“We don’t like being called zombies, we much prefer the term, the Resurrected, but effectively we are undead supernatural creatures. As a practioner of resurrection, I can bring a carcass back to life, although the vacant pieces, for example the mind, need to be re-booted, and basically it’s like we’re starting from scratch, or re-educating if you like.”

Stanley pondered, then asked, “Are you saying that I can mould my wife into the person I want her to be?”

“Yes, I am saying that, although it is not a simple process, and that is why we provide the on-going assistance.”

“That is a very positive development, because Iveta was almost perfect except for her, ummm, problem.”

“Yes indeed,” the man nodded, then he said, “A part of the remaining quarter of a million dollars will be used to purchase the equipment.”

“Equipment?” Stanley asked, “What kind of equipment?”

“If the resurrection is successful, equipment will be installed on your property to help us move on to the next stage.”

“What is the next stage?”

“Good sir, how about we proceed one step at a time.” the man replied. “Bring me the money, bring Chester her money, and we will move forward.”

“Certainly, although I do have a final question.”

“Go ahead.”

“That girl, the one who killed Iveta, she almost destroyed me emotionally, because Iveta was my world, and I want to make that girl pay. So if Iveta does come back, will I be able to instil her with aggressive components?”

“What are you saying Bro,” Chester asked, “You want your wife to kill the person who killed her?”

“Well, I am a vengeful person, and one way or another, I want to make her pay. My greatest wish is to have my wife back, and my greatest ambition is to hunt down that murdering bitch and kill her.”

“Hmmm, if it was Crezinski, good luck with that.” Chester mumbled.

“To answer your question, if things are done properly, she should eventually become what you want her to be. A perfect example of my work is young Chester here. After I resurrected her, I groomed her to be accommodating in a sexual sense, and she is. I wanted her to be obedient and loyal, and she is. I wanted her to brave and fearless, and she is, and I have devoted many hours into her education, and I state with pride, that she has been my greatest success.”

“Thanks Boss.”

“I invested many, many hours in Chester, and she will do anything that I ask her. I realise that this isn’t conclusive proof, but just as a little demonstration, listen up good sir,” the man said, then he turned to face her. “Chester, are you attracted to this man?”

“No.”

“If I asked you to sleep with him, would you?”

“Yes.”

“If I asked you to kill him, would you?”

“Yes.”

“How would you kill him?”

“I would wait for your precise instructions, and then I would follow those instructions.”

“Chester, please lift your singlet and show this man your breasts.”

She did, and even though this little charade wasn’t convincing, the girl did have nice breasts.

“So good sir, get me the money, give Chester the details of where your wife is, and we shall take it from there.”

“Certainly.” Stanley stood and before moving away, he asked, “I’m sorry, I don’t think I got your name.”

Chester smiled as she said, “His name is Devil.”

*

Unsure and suspicious on so many levels, Stanley spent the night thinking about his options. He had met a very strange man who told him that he could resurrect his dead wife, although he refused to give a guarantee. Pay me one million dollars, and we’ll see what happens.

Stanley was a wealthy man, and a million dollars was merely a drop in the ocean to him, all the same, he didn’t like being played for a fool. There was a possibility that he could pay the man, and then he would never hear from him again. Devil and Chester had suggested that the wild woman who had killed Iveta was a vampire, so there was a possibility that both of them were delusional, or disturbed. Maybe it should just end right there and then, maybe he should just walk away and never contact them again, although something burned in his mind. If there was even the slightest possibility that his wife could be resurrected, he would willingly pay ten million dollars, or more, because Iveta had become his world. Quiet and unassuming, Iveta did whatever he asked without question. She was a stunning looking woman who kept herself in shape, and he could become aroused by merely gazing into her pale blue eyes. Sexually, she was submissive, and she would lay before him whenever he requested, and she was so passive that she never questioned him when he wanted to try different positions or new techniques. She lived her life to please him, and maybe that should mean that he felt in total control of her, although he knew that certain aspects of his wife couldn’t be controlled.

The dark side.

Iveta, quiet, shy, obedient, although in the troubled backlots of her mind, the Monster lurked. And unfortunately, the Monster was the most bewitching part of who she was.

The sadistic killer, the cold-hearted murderer, the vicious demon with pale blue eyes. Her dark side was such a mind-blowing contrast to her normal gentle and obedient nature, that it awoke all his darkest desires. She would do anything for him, if he let her kill.

Stanley knew that his wife had dragged him into the nefarious depths of human depravity, but he also knew that once he had experienced the sinister and evil pleasures she had shown him, he too, had become a monster.

*

The following day, he met with his bank manager and withdrew the money.

The bank manager knew Stanley well, and he said, “Quite a large withdrawal Clinton.”

“I’m investing in the ground floor of a new venture.”

“They want cash instead of a bank transfer?” the bank manager asked.

“My friend, the less you know, the better.”

Stanley had to wait until the sun disappeared, then he drove out to the farm. Curious, he handed over the suitcase full of cash, then said, “I could have delivered this to you by early afternoon.” Devil flicked through the suitcase full of cash, then advised casually, “We sleep during the day.”

Stanley gazed at Chester, intrigued. Both the girl and the man had suggested that she had been resurrected, although she looked like a normal teenage girl. It had also been implied in a few off-handed statements that Devil himself was not a normal human being. Wanting to know more about these people, Stanley drew in a breath and then asked, “Devil, were you arrhh, were you resurrected?”

“Yes, I was.”

“When?”

“1924.”

Stanley stared at him, and Devil said, “We shall get your wife and we will be at your house tomorrow evening.”