“Paula Jarred?” she gasped with surprise. “I didn’t even know those two were on speaking terms anymore. I thought they had some falling out a few years back after graduation.”
“They aren’t friends. I think Jamie was just trying to get under Paula’s skin,” Ivy reported.
“When did you see those two together?” Devon finally asked.
“At the audition. I can’t believe Paula, of all people, was auditioning for that acting job,” Ivy muttered and shook her head. “I mean, really? The role isn’t the part of a hooker. She has zero chance of getting that part.”
“Hmm?” Devon remarked while sinking into thought. “So she’s actually willing to give up her full-time job as town lush?”
Ivy laughed for the first time and sat up straight on the swing. “Her brother will give her a run for that title.” She then eyed her friend. “Did you eat before you came over?”
“No,” Devon replied and sighed with defeat. “I wanted to get out of there and avoid another confrontation with my father.”
“You should stay for dinner,” Ivy announced. “I’ll be able to get you to the museum in time.”
“I am hungry,” Devon replied.
Ivy stared at her friend and sighed. “Don’t let your father get to you, Devon,” she announced. “He’s stubborn and set in his caveman ways.”
“It just pisses me off that if I want to work, I have to find a job in town,” Devon practically lashed out. “I grew up around the cattle and the wranglers. I can do the job better than most of the men. I should be able to work the ranch.”
“I think some of your dad’s problems come from Martin refusing to work the ranch,” Ivy informed her. “His own son wouldn’t do it, so he doesn’t want his daughter filling that spot.”
“No, that’s not it,” Devon snapped. “It’s because of Jamie’s perverted brother, Joe.”
“Because he harassed you?” Ivy suddenly demanded. “That seems like a stupid reason to disqualify you from working the cattle.”
“My father liked Joe,” Devon remarked. “He was going to replace the foreman one day. Then I report him for what he did, he fires him, and I’m forbidden from working the ranch. You know, because the guys might realize I’m a girl and get all hot and bothered.”
“Your father’s concerned for your safety,” Ivy announced. “I don’t think he’s worried about the boys getting a hard-on around his daughter and acting out their uncontrollable desire.”
“It’s actually the same difference,” Devon remarked. “He’s not so much worried about me. He doesn’t want to risk losing more hard working perverts. Keeping me away from them is his best solution to avoiding a future problem.”
“You’ve never had a problem with them before,” Ivy announced. “You’re not exactly a china doll. I’ve seen you handle those guys on their own level. I don’t understand the problem.”
“I’ve given up trying to understand it myself,” she muttered.
“You can handle a little harmless flirting from the guys. What Joe did was reprehensible on every level,” Ivy announced. “He should have been fired. Your father should realize the difference.”
“You can’t explain anything to my father,” she remarked. “He thinks I should get married, pop out a few kids, and be a housewife.” Devon shifted uncomfortably. “Not that I knock my mother for the life she chose, but I don’t want to spend the rest of my life being maid and cook to everyone else.”
Ivy drew a deep breath and sighed. “Sadly, that’s the reality for most women in this town,” she remarked. “If I don’t get that part in the soap opera, I know I’m going to end up working at the bank the rest of my life. I can get a head start waiting on others before moving on to waiting on a husband and kids.” Ivy sneered at the thought. “I have to get out of this one-horse town before that happens.”
“You and me both,” Devon muttered.
Chapter Eight
That evening, Devon walked through the museum dungeon and past the phantom display on her way to the workshop. She paused to study the partially finished exhibit. She found it surprising that the phantom was already finished and set in place since she didn’t recall seeing the menacing, disfigured killer even started. The life-like wax phantom was seated before the old pipe organ, which was possibly an antique they’d purchased along the way. She nervously approached the display with a curious look and walked around the side of the phantom with its back to her.
The phantom was dressed mostly in black, including black boots and fedora boldly tilted on its head. The purple cape with black liner was elegantly positioned over its shoulder, giving the phantom an almost regal appearance. According to legend, the phantom was more or less a refined killer, suavely stalking its prey. As she got closer, she looked at the phantom’s profile and the white mask covering nearly three-quarters of its face. It was a terrifying image. Devon was curious if Brant had made his face disfigured beneath the mask. She wasn’t sure why, but she felt curious enough to take a peek. Devon hesitated and reached for the mask just to see if it could be removed and what lie beneath.
The phantom suddenly turned and lunged for her. Devon jumped backward with a loud, startled scream. The phantom removed the white mask, revealing the man beneath it. Her friend, Ross, laughed at her expense. Devon’s expression dropped as she stared at her friend in the costume. She angrily slapped him on the shoulder, causing him to yelp.
“Damn it,” she cried out in a shrill tone. “You scared me!”
“That was the whole idea,” Ross teased while adding an evil chuckle.
Ross Conners was a tall, slightly round man just a year older than Devon. With his dark, moderately wavy hair, he had the look of a practical joker. He wasn’t the most handsome man, but he had enough personality to make friends with nearly everyone. He definitely gave the impression of a big kid, especially with his lack of maturity and non-existence seriousness. Ross looked past Devon, fidgeted slightly, and offered a nervous smile.
“Uh, hey, Mr. Brook.”
Devon turned to see Tyler Brook standing not far from the scene. Brant’s business partner, Tyler, was a serious, sophisticated looking man in his late forties. His sandy brown hair was kept businessman short, he was meticulously clean-shaven, and he wore an expensive suit. Tyler was by no means unattractive, but he had a definite snob appeal about him. Brant, dressed in his finest paint speckled lab coat, stood a few feet behind his business partner and wiped his hands on a dirty rag.
Tyler, seeming more like a high school principal, glared his disapproval over Ross’ behavior. “Are you finished fooling around?”
“Yes, sir,” Ross announced with his head lowered like a whipped dog.
“Then remove that costume before you ruin it and put it back in the wardrobe closet,” Tyler ordered. “There’s plenty of work to be done.”
Ross removed the cloak, flashed a tiny smirk at Devon, and hurried away. Despite being yelled at, his sly grin revealed it had been worth it to see the look on Devon’s face.
Tyler turned toward Devon and smiled more cheerfully. “I hope Ross didn’t give you too much of a scare,” he announced then sighed shamefully. “He can be a bit over-the-top.”
“I’m used to it,” she replied while hiding her smile. “We’ve been friends a long time.”
“Sorry I missed our interview this morning,” he announced then nodded to Brant. “You’ve already met my business partner, Brant.”
“Yes.”
“Brant’s more of the artist than I am, so he’ll be instructing you on what he wants you to do,” Tyler announced then fidgeted and looked at his watch with disappointment. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I must return to the city tonight.”
“I understand,” she replied. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Brook.”
“It’s Tyler,” he informed her and smiled pleasantly. “Despite what Ross says, we aren’t formal around here.” He then looked at Brant. “Did you mention our field trip on Thursday?”
>
“No, I was getting to that,” Brant replied.
“Good,” Tyler announced then smiled at Devon. “I’ll see you Thursday morning.”
She watched as Tyler hurried off to his important business in the city. Brant’s eyes followed him until he was gone and showed little emotion. He briefly glanced back at Devon then turned and walked away from the phantom display.
“I’ll get you started in the back,” Brant announced as he walked away.
Devon realized she was supposed to be following him and hurried after him. She caught up to him and walked alongside him, although he didn’t look at her.
“What field trip on Thursday?” Devon asked now curious.
“Tyler has been tirelessly seeking props and furniture for the displays,” Brant informed her. “He found an old wax museum a few hours from here and arranged to buy most of their inventory, including some wax people. We’re renting a moving truck to bring whatever we find back with us. We’ll need you and Ross to assist with the move.” He finally glanced at her and managed a smile. “Don’t worry; we have movers for the heavy lifting. We’re mostly responsible for crating the wax figures, so they aren’t destroyed before we get them back here. Even if they’re only in semi-decent shape, refurbishing them will save us a lot of time and work on creating all new wax figures. The process is a long undertaking, and he’s anxious to get the museum up and running on schedule.”
“Hmm, sounds like fun,” she announced cheerfully while observing Brant’s profile.
Brant gave her a humored look and flashed a smile. It was the first time she’d actually seen him smile since he seemed reluctant to look at her. She hadn’t realized how handsome he actually was. In her opinion, he needed to smile more often.
“I’m glad you think so,” he announced as if holding back some secret as to why she shouldn’t be excited about their field trip. “You’ll be in charge of bubble wrap.”
“Bubble wrap?” She raised a skeptical brow. It didn’t sound like much of a challenge. “What exactly does that entail?” she asked not sure she understood her bizarre assignment.
“Just the way it sounds,” he replied simply. “Your job is to keep Ross away from the bubble wrap. It’s to be used for packing; not popping.”
Devon hid her smile and held back her laugh. She wasn’t sure if he meant it to sound as funny as it did, but she knew Ross too well.
Chapter Nine
Devon sat on a stool beside Brant before the counter within the moderately cluttered workshop. There were several wax heads lined along the table waiting for their hair, eyes, and makeup. Devon had been slightly distracted at first, eyeing the horde of wax men and women standing and crouching in odd positions not far from the counter. Every single one seemed to be staring at her. Although there were plenty of normal looking wax men and women, some of the others were slightly creepy, possibly for the horror displays.
She found herself staring at some poor, unfortunate wax man with anguish on his face where he lay on the floor with his arms stretched above his head. What was particularly disturbing was that he had no lower half to his body. Brant implanted strands of hair onto the female wax head before them. It was a slow process involving one strand of hair at a time with the use of something resembling a large needle on a pen. He handed her the pointy instrument and watched while she mimicked what he’d done. Judging by how long the process took, Devon realized it would probably take all day just to insert the hair onto one head.
“Why don’t you use wigs?” she asked.
“We do on the minor characters,” he replied, “but I like our ‘stars’ to look as realistic as possible. Doing a wax head right is an art form and it takes days even weeks to do it properly. It’s not a sprint; it’s a marathon.”
She again eyed the partial wax man on the floor and shifted uncomfortably. “I have to ask,” she finally announced. “Why is there only a top half to that wax man?”
Brant didn’t even bother looking since he obviously knew which unfortunate soul she referenced. “Oh, that’s just Oscar.”
“Oscar?” she asked then shook her head as if he were not just toying with her for the fun of it.
“Yeah,” Brant replied. “Oscar’s going on the rack next week. I need to add some guts and torn flesh before he’s complete.” He gave a casual nod across the room. “His bottom half is over there.”
Devon stared at Brant’s profile a moment while considering the ‘rack’ comment. She glanced across the room and finally saw Oscar’s bottom half, which contained part of his spine, torn flesh, and some intestines. She nearly gasped at the sight. Oscar was the stretching rack victim! Devon cringed and returned her attention to her work.
“What did poor Oscar do to deserve the rack?” she remarked in as serious a tone as she could manage.
Brant cast a look at her and immediately hid his smile. “He was my last assistant, but it didn’t work out,” he teased.
It was Devon’s turn to look at Brant, but he had already resumed his work while grinning, obviously pleased with himself. She was almost relieved to discover Brant actually had a sense of humor. Ross poked his head into the workshop and looked around.
“Is he gone?”
“Yes, he’s gone,” Brant announced with a moderately disgusted sigh as his good mood vanished.
Ross was relieved and entered the workshop. He approached the counter, leaned on Devon’s shoulder, and watched with childlike fascination as she worked.
“He was in a foul mood tonight,” Ross huffed then cast a look at Brant and appeared sympathetic. “Don’t let him get to you, Brant.”
“He hasn’t,” Brant replied then eyed Ross. “Just make sure you have that display finished before you leave tonight. I don’t want to hear him complain again.”
“Consider it done,” Ross announced cheerfully. “Just keep the troll off my back.”
Devon refrained from commenting as the two men complained about Tyler. Obviously, neither man cared much for him.
§
Devon pushed a handcart containing a wax woman wearing a dress from the late 1700’s across Dr. Frankenstein’s lab. She paused and looked at the detailed lab display. It looked like a real tower laboratory complete with fake stone walls and floors. There were electronic machines, a false skylight, and a slanted table with a sheet covered monster strapped to it. The eerie silence was broken by low moaning. Lightning suddenly flashed beyond the fake skylight, and a large bolt of electric current sizzled and flashed between two circuits. Devon looked around with surprise. The monster suddenly moved beneath the sheet and pulled against the straps. Devon gasped with surprise when she saw the covered creature move. Ross jumped out from behind the table and laughed.
“Cool, huh?”
Devon glanced at the display and marveled at the details. “It’s fabulously creepy.”
“This place is going to be freakin’ awesome.” Ross then eyed the wax woman on the handcart. “Hey, this looks great,” he announced. “You do this one?”
“Just the makeup, and it only took me four hours,” Devon announced proudly while mocking herself.
Ross chuckled and leaned on her shoulder. “It takes time even after you’ve mastered it,” he informed her. “As Brant likes to say, it’s not a sprint; it’s a marathon.”
“Yes, he’s already used that line on me,” she remarked with a laugh. “Brant makes it look so easy.”
“Yeah, he’s into his art,” Ross announced. “He’s a real workaholic. It’s a good thing too since his business partner is a slave driver.”
“Sounds like their partnership isn’t exactly fifty-fifty,” she remarked.
“I love Brant to death, but he’s a bit of a pushover,” Ross informed her. “He needs to stand up to Tyler. Thankfully, Tyler doesn’t spend a lot of time here. He’s into his fancy parties with his wealthy friends. We shouldn’t see much of him.”
Chapter Ten
The rental truck was already parked outside the old, dilapidated w
ax museum located on some back road in a rural town that didn’t even show up on GPS. Tyler’s expensive, black BMW pulled into the cracked parking lot that contained nearly as much grass as macadam. The wax museum itself appeared to have been out of business for years. The sign was almost faded beyond recognition, and the stone siding was falling off in chunks. Tyler and Brant got out of the front of the car while Ross and Devon got out of the back. Ross and Devon exchanged wide-eyed looks. They followed their bosses with less enthusiasm toward the creepy building.
“I’m suddenly very afraid,” Ross announced and linked onto Devon’s arm for protection.
She pulled her arm away from him and managed a smile, but she feared he wasn’t joking.
“Where the hell did Tyler find this place?” Ross muttered to Devon.
“I don’t even know how he found the town,” Devon responded.
They followed their bosses into the building and were nearly floored by the condition of the interior. If they had paid admission to a haunted house, Devon would have been impressed. As it was, she was skeptical. The old displays were covered with years of dust and cobwebs. To their dismay, the wax figures were still within their respective scenes. It was a creepy undertaking to pack them up, especially in their current condition. Thankfully, the wax men and woman were intact. Once they were disrobed and the cobwebs sucked from their hair, they would be salvageable. It would be a lot of work but still less than creating them from scratch.
Two burly moving men appeared in the hallway rolling two, six by three crates strapped to an appliance dolly. They stopped a few feet from Tyler and indicated the crates.
“We have the first six already on the truck,” the first man announced.
“That was fast,” Brant remarked with surprise. “What time did you guys arrive that you were able to pack so many already?”
“They were already in the crates when we got here,” the mover informed him.
“The owner said he’d try to pack some up for us,” Tyler remarked then nodded with approval. “That only leaves twenty. Makes our job easier.” Tyler turned to Ross and Devon. “Why don’t the two of you start crating up the rest of our lovelies while Brant and I see what else we can salvage from the displays?”
Murder in Wax Page 4