by Jeff Strand
Actually, I thought it was a pretty neat idea. But then, I guess I've always been kind of strange. There'd been many times over the past few years when I'd been able to easily envision Kyle or Theresa turning into mass murderers, and it would probably be fun to see this captured on video. Yet somehow I just couldn't see Helen finding the idea to her liking. And it was probably expensive as hell.
Anyway, I wasn't here as a customer, I was here to gather information. "Okay, time to fess up," I said. "I didn't get your card from a party. I'm really a journalist. Have you heard of themagazineDearly Demented? "
Rachel shook her head. This wasgood, because I'd made up the magazine and would have hated to be quizzed on the contents had it turned out to be a real one.
"That's not surprising, since our premiere issue is still four months away. Our target audience is comprised of those people who are interested in the darker side of life, but in a fun way, of course. And I think a feature article on Ghoulish Delights would fit exactly with what my editor is looking for."
"Really?Who's your editor?"
I gestured to Roger."Him. He doesn't quite trust me out on my own yet."
It would have been more believable to say Roger was my photographer, but that kind of lie generally works better when one is in possession of a camera.
"We've actually had a few stories done on us," Rachel remarked. "Mostly just local newspapers, though channel eight sent a camera crew out last Halloween and did a short feature. It was sort of slanted toward calling us a bunch of sick lunatics, but we got a couple of gigs out of it."
"Well, I can assure you thatifDearly Demented called you a bunch of sick freaks, it would be a wholehearted compliment."
Rachel smiled. "We'd be honored to have you do a story on our little outfit. Would you like a tour now, or would you like to set another appointment?"
"What would work best for me is if I could just talk to eachperson, find out exactly what it is they do for Ghoulish Delights. For example, what exactly do you do?"
"At the moment I'm doing my job and Michael's...that's Michael Ashcraft, our director...so I'd be absolutely overwhelmed if business weren't slow right now. Basically, I'm the producer, so I'm responsible for overseeing, well, everything. I do most of the interaction with thecustomer, from the interesting and informative sales pitch you just heard to making sure they're happy with the condition of their home afterward. And I'm responsible for all the financial aspects of the business, making sure we run things as cheaply as possible so we don't price ourselves out of reach."
"What does something like this cost?" Roger asked.
"The price varies substantially based on what options the customer requests, sort of like a new car."
"How much for a base model?"
Rachel smiled again. "To be completely honest, we prefer to wait until a customer is completely enraptured before springing the cost on the poor person."
"That bad, huh?"
"Well...it's more expensive than taking the family out to play miniature golf."
I nodded my understanding. It suddenly occurred to me that this whole reporter charade would work better if I actually had a small notebook or a tape recorder. I considered making a comment like "So, Roger, is theol ' photographic memory storing everything all right?" but that would have been stupid. I probably should have planned a cover story before driving over here. The idea that I really suck as a detective crossed my mind.
"So was this whole thing your idea?" I asked.
"No, it was Mike's. We were friends all through college, and we'd rent maybe six or seven horror movies every weekend. We'd just sit in his dorm room andtoxify our brains watching these things. We sort of went our separate ways after he graduated, partially because his girlfriend, now his wife, was jealous of all the time we spent together...not that you need to write anything about that." She suddenly looked worried. "You're not going to use that quote, are you?"
"Not if you don't want me to," I assured her.
"Oh, good.It sort of slipped out. Anyway, I stayed in Chamber and was working full time as a trainer at the gym, and Mike moved from place to place trying and failing to carve out a career as a filmmaker. We met up again two years ago just by coincidence. Some friends came from out of town and wanted to do the theme park thing, so I took them to Universal Studios, and there Mike was, working as a photographer at the King Kong ride. We met up later that night and he told me about this whole idea for making custom-made horror movies. Oh, by the way, can I get you some coffee?"
"No, I'm fine," I said.
"I just now thought of that. I'd hate you to start your article with `Ghoulish Delights is run by Rachel Mallory, a woman who likes to talk and talk and talk and talk without so much as having the courtesy to provide refreshments.'"
"No, really, I'm okay. Roger's fine, too. Please continue."
"Basically, I thought it sounded like a lot of fun, though I wasn't sure if it was something we could actually make money at. Well, we couldn't get a bank loan to save our lives, so finally Mike swallowed his pride, called up his rich brother, and begged for the start-up money. He got it, we rented this place, and then he started calling people he knew wouldn't demand a regular paycheck. Pretty soon we had Carl, Farley, Linda, and Dominick, and we were set."
"And you're all making a living at this now?"
"Not a great one, but we do okay. To be completely honest, we don't make all of our money from Ghoulish Delights. We have to film the occasional wedding or barmitzva , but overall we're not starving to death."
"What does Mike's wife think of Ghoulish Delights?"
Rachel shrugged. "I don't see her much. Every once in a while she'll come in here and turn up her nose at one of Farley's creatures, but that's about it."
"But she'd rather he take some steady-paying job, right?"
"Of course.I'm sure she makes more with her waitress job than he does here. But then, she's sort of a—" Rachel held her hands out in front of her chest, miming substantial breasts, "—impressive woman, so good tips probably aren't hard to come by."
I began to feel a bit uncomfortable. Rachel certainly felt no love for Jennifer Ashcraft. She didn't seem anything like the murderous type, but then again, John WayneGacy performed at children's parties as Pogo the Clown, yet still murdered thirty-three people. Of course, clowns can be pretty scary.
Michael could have been having an affair with Rachel, and it could have turned ugly. I wasn't sure what kind of ugly end to an affair might result in Michael being buried alive holding a revolver, but it was possible. Yet if Rachel was the killer, would she be sitting here confessing that she didn't like Jennifer? And she'd been genuinely friendly, not giving any indication that she might have tied me up last night and pressed a bloody knife against my neck.
No, it couldn't be Rachel.
Probably.
"Is it all right if I talk to the others now?" I asked.
"No problem. Let's go on back."
Chapter 7
THE MAIN PART of the house was a large room, maybe forty by sixtyfeet, that was simply jam-packed with neat stuff. One wall was entirely overtaken by a rack of costumes. Above the rack was a shelf upon which rested a long line of Halloween masks, everything from Frankenstein to an undead boy scout to Richard Simmons. Another wall display contained dozens of (I assume) fake weapons: axes, knives, spears, chainsaws, etc. The room was also loaded with camera equipment, videotapes,buckets of paint, blueprints, storyboard paintings, and one large table in the center. There was also a small doorway, minus an actual door, which led somewhere unknown. Carl, Dominick, and Linda were all huddled around the table, playingwithStar Wars action figures, while Farley added some white paint to a piece of rubber.
Among the weapons, I noticed a crossbow.
"So, do we have another customer?" asked Farley, looking up as we entered.
"Actually, these gentlemen arefromDearly Demented magazine, here to do a story on us," Rachel told him. "Be nice to them."
"
Never heard of that one," said Farley.
"Premiere issue is four months away," I explained. "But it's going to be flashy, don't worry."
Farley gestured toward Roger's crutches. "The magazine business is dangerous, huh?"
"More dangerous than you can imagine," said Roger. "Those computer terminals can be deadly. Hurt my leg typing an adjective.Happens all the time."
"Anyway," said Rachel, "I want each of you to talk to the nice men, tell them what you do around here."
"Right now we're having a great battle between Chewbacca and a couple ofStormtroopers ," said Linda. "This is what we get paid for. Life is good."
"Actually, they're blocking out a new plot scenario," Rachel told us. "Normally I'd be working with them, but I was busy sucking up to you two. Hey, Farley, why don't you show them what you're doing?"
We walked over to where Farley stood. There were several identical pieces of rubber spread out on the table in front of him. He finished adding a bit of white paint to the one he was working on,then set it down to dry. "What I'm doing right now is making generic wounds out of latex. These are throat wounds, as you can clearly see from the protruding windpipe." He tapped the protruding windpipe with his index finger to make sure we clearly saw it. "I've got all different kinds of wounds and scars, and when they're needed I just apply them to the actor with rubber cement, use makeup to make sure it blends with the skin, and then add a big dollop of blood.Instant carnage.Fun for all ages."
"Do you makethese yourself?" I asked.
"Absolutely.There're a lot of places you can order them from, but what fun is that?" Farley gave me a wicked grin. "How would you like a torn-out throat?"
"Nah, I make it a point never to simulate throatrippings this early in the day, but maybe next time," I said.
"Oh, come on," said Farley, picking up one of the fake wounds. "If you reallywanna understand the inner workings of Ghoulish Delights, you'vegotta get a little dirty. Dominick, youwanna slide a chair over here and grab a sheet?"
"No, seriously, that's okay. I'm allergic to latex. That's why I have two kids. However, I'm sure Roger would love to have part of his neck removed, wouldn't you, Roger?"
"Huh?"
Dominick pushed a chair over to where we stood. "Have a seat, Roger," said Farley. "We'll get you messed up real good."
Roger started to protest, but instead settled for giving me a dirty look as he sat down in the chair. The others stopped playing with their action figures and watched with amusement. Dominick handed Farley a small white sheet, which he draped over Roger's chest like a bib.
"Be gentle with me, I'm crippled," said Roger.
"You'll be more than crippled when I'm done with you," Farley informed him. He began to apply a generous portion of rubber cement to the latex. "Tilt your head back. Further. Further. Good."
He carefully positioned the latex in the center of Roger's neck, and then pressed down on it firmly. I had another uncomfortable moment as I realized that with one violent push Farley could probably crush Roger's throat. I was getting seriously paranoid.
"Now you have to sit here perfectly still while it dries," Farley said.
"Oh, joy," Roger muttered.
"Don't talk, either. Okay, Andrew, you can move on to your next tour station. I'll call you back when we're ready."
I figured leaving Roger there unable to move as sticky stuff dried on his neck was suitable punishment for one of the many pranks he'd played on me over the years, so I walked over to Carl. "You're the cameraman, right?"
"That's right." Carl shrugged."Not sure exactly what I should tell you. I point the camera where stuff is happening and try to keep it in focus, basically."
"Could I see your equipment?"
"Yeah, if you want."Carl led me to the other side of the room, where the camera equipment was stored. I had no real interest in seeing it, but I wanted to speak with Carl away from the others.
"So how did you get into Ghoulish Delights?"
"Mike Ashcraft asked me. He and Rachel were the ones who started this. He's our director but he's on vacation." Carl alternated between looking at me and the floor when he talked.
"Yeah, Rachel told me. So, were you two friends, or classmates, or did you work together on another project, or...?"
"Worked at the Legacy Six theatre together.Used to fight over who got to keep the good movie posters."
"So what's he like? I mean, what kind of person comes up with an idea like Ghoulish Delights?"
Another shrug."He's a little askew, like the rest of us. Nice guy.Doesn't try to tell me what to do when I'm taping, so he's pretty easy to work with." He thought for a long moment. "Aside from that, I don't know what else to say."
I asked him about the cameras, just so he'd think I was interested. He spouted off some technical specifications that meant absolutely nothing to me, but I nodded as he spoke. When he'd finished, I thanked him and turned back to the throat ripping demonstration. "Is he ready yet?"
"Not yet," said Farley. "The actors always hate this part. I know I do. That's why I stay on this side of the special effects."
Roger didn't look like he was enjoying this much, which was all right. I walked back over to the action figure setup. "What exactly does this represent?" I asked Linda.
"This is just a scenario we're working on," she replied. "We have about twenty of them right now, but we try to add more whenever we've got some downtime. The more variety we have, the easier it is to find somethingthat appeals to the customers."
"What kinds of scenarios do you have in your collection right now?"
"For the most part, they're just variations on the stalk-and-slash theme. We're not making movies for commercial release, so we don't need shocking plot twists or bold new concepts. Essentially a Ghoulish Delights movie involves somebody running around killing everyone else." She explained this in a remarkably perky voice, as if she were hosting a cooking show.
"Hey, that's all I need in a movie," I said.
"Most of the work is done after the customer has selected their scenario. Technically, one of the scripts could be filmed as-is—it has dialogue and everything. But since we never know where we're going to shoot it, and we can't possibly have a script already prepared for every possible combination of actors, we have to make a lot of small changes on the set. Plus, we're not dealing with professional actors here, so a lot of the time we'll have to tone down some of the dialogue or revise it to make it easier to deliver. Once we had a script comprised of nothing but screams and one line, `Now you die!' And the guy ended up forgetting to say `you.' Suffice it to say that we haven't started rehearsing our Academy Awards speech yet."
"Of course, my loving girlfriend here has justdescribedmy job," said Dominick good-naturedly. "I let her help sometimes, so she occasionally forgets that I'm the one in charge of the script."
"Actually, hedoesn'tlet me help, I bully my way into it," said Linda.
"That's exactly right."
"But he loves a dominant woman."
"I don't remember asking for one at Christmas."
"That's because I wrote up your list for you, being a dominant woman."
"That figures."
"Oh, is my sweetie being sulky? Nobody likes being around a person with a stinky attitude, even if they have a cute little dent in their chin like you."
"If you keep it up, that Roger guy is going to want his throat torn out for real," Dominick told her.
I was getting to that point myself. I was also starting to notice that Dominick smelled kind of weird, but I couldn't identify the scent.
"I'm so sorry, sweetie, did I steal your glory by telling about what you do, with my help? Here, you can tell them what I do now."
"No, that's all right, I wouldn't want you to stop being the center of attention."
"Good." Linda turned back to me. "I do all the set decoration and prop work, except for weapons, which Dominick does."
"What kind of set decoration?" I asked. "Doesn't it take place in peopl
e's homes?"
"Usually their homes, or sometimes outdoors.I make sure furniture gets rearranged to fit what we need for the scene, and if the scene calls for somebody to be making cookies, I'll set that up, and stuff like that."
"Doesn't sound like she does much, does it?" asked Dominick. "That might explain why she feels the need to keep invading my territory."