The Monster Museum

by J L Bryan

  “I don't like it,” Melissa declared, backing away. She was frowning now, her cheery mood starting to crash. “It's creepy. Like it shouldn't be alive.”

  “It's not alive,” Michael said.

  “You know what I mean.” She headed into the bathroom. The hotel did have nice bathrooms, bright yellow and painted with flowers, more sizable and cheery than I'd expected in a two-star hotel.

  “I really like it,” I said to Michael.

  “You're sure?”

  “It doesn't seem like something that could be mine. It seems...way too expensive, for one thing.”

  “Oh, don't worry. It wasn't much more than a box of gears and springs when I found it.”

  “So you spent how long restoring it? Weeks? Months?”

  “Nothing like that. It's just something I've been tinkering with. But if you don't like it, I was also thinking about those reindeer socks.”

  “Don't be ridiculous. You know this is awesome.”

  “It made me think of you for some reason,” he said.

  “Because I'm a spooky nocturnal bird who sings to the moon?”

  “I knew there was a connection.”

  I touched the moon again.

  The little black bird came out and whistled its song again.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “Did you take any videos of Santa Claus?” Ronan asked, while I replaced the battery on the camera in the hall outside his room on Christmas afternoon.

  “I don't think so,” I said. “Santa has...invisibility powers.”

  “He does?” Ronan rubbed his head nervously. “So he could still be here right now? Listening to us?”

  “I'm pretty sure he's back at the North Pole, sleeping off a long night of delivering presents,” I said.

  “The reindeer do most of the hard work,” Ronan said. “Like pulling and flying.”

  “That's true.”

  Someone snickered up the hall: Penny, in a frayed green-black dress, stood at the open door to the twins' room, watching me. Polly stood a little behind her, in a glittering pastel-red sweater, watching over her shoulder.

  Penny had a little bit of an evil grin on her face, and I hoped she wasn't going to ruin the younger boy's Christmas by telling him Santa wasn't real.

  Michael and Melissa were due to arrive at the museum anytime. I'd come over early to check my gear and get that out of the way, and also let Ryan know to expect extra company down in the second floor offices.

  “Did you get any pictures of Amil?” Polly's soft voice drifted out as she rose on tiptoes behind her sister. Penny rolled her eyes at her twin sister. Penny was just all around too cool for this room.

  “I don't know if I got any pictures of anything,” I said. “It takes a long time to go through and look at all of it.”

  “But you had to,” Polly said. “Amil was out here last night. You saw him.”

  “How come you always see him?” Penny asked. “He's probably shy to me because he has a crush on me.”

  “He does not!” Polly said, seemingly offended.

  “How would you know?” Penny asked. “Besides, who cares about some dead boy and who he loves—”

  “You're both scaring me. You're the worst sisters.” Ronan turned and ran to the living room and the comfort of his large-screen video game.

  “You're the worst brother!” Penny shouted after him, not letting his charge go unanswered.

  I'd wanted to ask Ronan if he'd seen any sign of the reptilian figure, but now didn't seem like a good time to ask.

  “Anyway,” Penny said. “What do you mean she saw him last night? Was she in here sneaking around—”

  A high shriek rang out.

  My hand flew to my flashlight as I followed it into the kitchen.

  A haze of smoke filled the room. The fire alarm was bleating to let us know things were getting serious in there.

  Ryan stood near the oven, mismatched oven mitts on his hands, holding a large aluminum dish full of blackened, smoldering lasagna.

  “Uh,” he said, when he saw all of us looking at him.

  “Did you mess up a frozen lasagna again, Dad?” Penny said, her fists flying to her hips in a lecturing-mom pose. “Honestly, how do you keep doing that?”

  “I'm sorry,” Ryan said, looking defeated as he set the charred mess onto the stove top, next to a pot of previously frozen peas. Those hadn't burned, at least not yet.

  “What would Mom say if she saw this?” Penny asked.

  “So we aren't having Christmas dinner?” Polly asked. Her eyes shined as though this prospect was going to make her erupt into tears.

  “But I'm hungry!” Ronan said. He dropped to the floor clutching his stomach. “So hungry...super starving...”

  “Well, we might be able to salvage something here...” Ryan dug into the charred black crust with a big wooden spoon, searching for signs of life below the surface. I didn't think his odds were great. “There's a little...um...I think that's sauce...”

  “Ugh!” Penny threw both hands into the air and stomped out of the room. She glanced back just before she left, and Polly followed after her as if drawn by an invisible tether.

  Ryan dragged a kitchen chair over and stood on it to reach the smoke detector on the ceiling, which kept on bleating.

  I opened the wide, slit-like windows, hoping to get some of the smoke out. A lot of heat went with it, slurped away by the winter air outside.

  “Is this whole place going to burn down?” Ronan asked, watching us.

  “No, buddy,” Ryan said. “The whole place is going to be fine.”

  “Oh.” Ronan sounded disappointed. Then he perked up at the sound of loud, sugary pop music blasting from the living room, sung by a girl who sounded about fourteen. He ran down the hall, screaming, “Don't mess up my game!” His sisters must have taken control of the TV.

  “All right,” Ryan said, once he finally managed to silence the smoke alarm. He hopped down to the linoleum, then resumed poking at the blackened ruins of lasagna.

  “It does seem impossible to get wrong,” I said.

  “I know it,” he said, looking mystified. “You set the temperature, you set the timer...the end. Right?”

  “Typically,” I said. “Hey, the peas still look good.”

  “Great. I guess it's peas, toast, and Corny Flicks for Christmas dinner.”

  “You mean Corn Flakes?”

  “You're not familiar with the off-brand aisle, are you?” he asked.

  “Well, my friends and I are going to a restaurant that's open,” I said.

  “A restaurant would be awesome,” Ryan said. “But I refer you to my general financial uncertainties here. Things were getting thin for months before they got too thin to survive on. So until I get this place into shape and sell it...assuming I can sell it...” He shrugged.

  I looked at him for a long moment, taking in the strain on his features, thinking of the three tiny presents that had been under the tree, imagining the uncertainty and hard choices he was struggling with.

  “Okay,” I finally said, with a sigh.

  “Okay what?”

  “It's ridiculous to try and avoid it,” I said. “That room with the automata.”

  “The...?”

  “Coin-operated miniature characters,” I said. “The little carousel and the greyhound. I know somebody who can repair them. And he knows how to sell them to weirdo collector types like you were talking about.”

  “Really? You think they could be worth a lot?”

  “I'm not sure, but he would know. Some of them could be valuable antiques, and he's really good at fixing them. Kind of amazing at it, honestly.” I thought of my little mechanical black bird, currently nesting back at the hotel.

  “Well, good, call that guy,” Ryan said.

  “He's already on his way over. In fact, they should be here any minute.”

  I helped Ryan clear up his burned mess and get some less-burned food going, feeling weirdly domestic as I did. I tried to preten
d that his proximity was of no interest to me, that I was just helping a desperately clueless dad limp through a sad attempt at a major holiday.

  It was a momentary relief when the phone chimed, announcing Michael and Melissa had arrived at the museum.

  Then I headed downstairs, the knot in my gut tightening, not so thrilled at the prospect of introducing Michael and Ryan. I reminded myself to keep it professional and distant. With everyone.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  I opened the door to find them parked by my van. Apparently Michael's restored '49 Chevy truck was managing its way just fine through the steep mountains and snow.

  I smiled like I wasn't nervous at all. Just a regular Christmas all around.

  “Interesting spot,” Melissa said, grinning at the three-story museum. Her mood seemed better than when I'd last seen her. “That front's kind of a fake, though.”

  “It's a total fake,” I agreed. “The place is not such a castle on the inside. Still, it's definitely...interesting.” I smiled at Michael. “There's a few things you should look at.”

  “Why me?” he asked. “Are we talking possible fire hazards here? Because, judging by the outside, I wouldn't be too surprised...”

  “Not that. I'll show you.” I gestured for both of them to follow me inside.

  I led them to the central lobby area from which the various exhibits radiated, and they immediately began peering into each one in turn.

  “This is crazy,” Michael said, looking past the hospital-ward door into the Medical Maladies exhibit. “It's not really surprising it's haunted, huh?”

  “I love it,” Melissa said, gazing down the hall at the settler exhibit.

  “Careful over there,” I said.

  “What? Are the gold panners going to hop to life and grab me?” She grinned, but she listened, and made her way over to the Tomb of History instead. “I have a really good feeling about this place.”

  “You do?” I asked, surprised.

  “Yeah...” She peered through the crypt doorway at the weapons and pottery of lost tribes, and farther along, of lost continents, allegedly. “Let's go exploring. This sign says there's caves.”

  “We're staying out of the caves,” I said quickly. “Michael, do you see anything of value in this room?” I shunted aside the waist-high wooden barrier to the automata exhibit and flipped on the lights.

  He walked into the room and froze just inside, gaping for a moment.

  “Is that a Roullet & Decamps?” He walked toward the small, brightly colored yet badly chipped carousel. “This must be...early 1900's? And look, it has a Noah's Ark theme—two lions, two elephants, two giraffes, two horses...”

  “If you ask me, they could have left the mosquitoes off that particular ark,” I muttered.

  “Does anybody have a nickel?” Michael looked at the masking tape over the coin slot, the word BROKEN scribbled on it. “Never mind. Now look at this—the Yankees, circa 1920-something.” He pointed a display with several tiny baseball players, some of their painted uniforms worn off in spots to reveal metal beneath, arranged around a miniature field complete with bleachers. This, too, was labeled BROKEN.

  “Most of them don't work,” I said.

  “Look at this. Incredible.” He pointed to a little jousting arena, with two horse-mounted knights on either side of a low rail, ready to bang each other with lances and shields. One of the knights listed steeply to the right, as though its supports were damaged. Michael stood the knight up gently, but it wouldn't stay. He pointed to the king and queen in the reviewing stand above. “I bet the queen waves that handkerchief. And the king lifts his beer stein to his mouth.” Michael circled around back. “I wish I could open these things up and get them working.”

  “Yeah, so does the guy who owns them,” I said.

  “Really?”

  “And he's pretty short on cash, so we're hoping they're worth something,” I said. “That would be great, so he could actually pay my fee and feed his kids and whatever.”

  “Worth something? If we got these in working order...” Michael shook his head and whistled. “Wow.”

  “Yes?”

  “Here's what you should do.” He pointed to the mini Yankee Stadium. “I want to look inside first, but I'm guessing this is the most valuable piece.”

  “Because of all the small moving parts?”

  “That will make it appeal to automata collectors,” he said. “But there are also some die-hard Yankees fan with deep pockets out there, like up around New York City, with lots of money. It could be a real bidding war. So...I'd say take this one as payment. We take it home, I'll fix it up and turn it into cash. Definitely.” His eyes were almost jumping out of his head at the prospect.

  “What about the rest of them?”

  “The rest...?” Michael looked around at the automata, maybe twenty different displays. “We're talking months and months of work here. Or more. I couldn't pull off much in a weekend. But...this collection is worth a small fortune. Or would be if the stuff worked.”

  “Good,” I said, letting out a sigh of relief. “That'll make Ryan happy.”

  “Ryan?”

  “My client.”

  “Yeah, I should meet this guy.”

  “I think they're creepy.” Melissa was looking at a miniature circus—an acrobat on a swing, a clown riding a bike on a high wire, a magician pulling a rabbit from a hat. She clearly found the dusty little characters as unnerving as the singing bird box.

  “Then we'll put the circus one in your room,” Michael said.

  “Gross.”

  “Sorry we're late,” Ryan said. His kids had come with him. Penny stood just ahead of him, while Polly and Ronan seemed to be competing to see who could best hide behind their dad.

  I introduced them quickly. Michael seemed surprised as he looked at Ryan.

  “This is your place?” Michael asked. “I expected...well, that guy on the billboard.”

  “'Dr. Weirdman' was my great uncle,” Ryan said. “Who seemed to think I was more likely to enjoy this place than any of his other relatives.”

  “Are you a big fan of weirdness?” Melissa asked, drawing a sharp look from her brother.

  “Not as much as my uncle,” Ryan said. “I'm certainly not opposed to weirdness. But I was a little more fascinated by the place when I was ten.”

  “I can see that.” Melissa looked him over, then glanced at the kids. Penny crossed her arms and pointed her chin forward a bit, as if challenging Melissa somehow. Her sister did just the opposite, practically melting out of sight behind their father.

  “Melissa, why don't you play with the kids for a minute?” Michael said, as if he'd just been struck with a brilliant idea.

  “Seriously?” she asked, wrinkling her nose a little like this idea smelled bad.

  “Maybe they can show you around the museum,” Michael said, practically glaring at her.

  “The museum's too scary,” Ronan said.

  “That sounds fun,” Melissa said, with a wicked smile. “Why don't you show me the scariest parts?”

  “Melissa!” Michael snapped, and she rolled her eyes.

  “Fine. Show me the least scary parts.”

  Melissa managed to lead a reluctant Ronan and Penny away. Polly stayed behind, clinging to her dad as if she were even more frightened than her much younger brother.

  “There's some stuff that's okay,” Ronan said. “Like the first part of the animal one. Before you get to the monsters.”

  “They aren't real monsters,” Penny said haughtily, as though imparting great wisdom to hopeless fools. “Dad says they're fake. And you're not allowed to look at them, Ronan. Let's go to the settler exhibit.”

  “Aw, I hate that one...”

  Melissa looked not at all enthusiastic as she followed them away.

  “So, Ellie was telling me you're an expert at fixing this stuff up?” Ryan asked Michael.

  “I'm sure there are much greater experts than me, but I've managed to restore some th
ings over the years,” he said. “It just takes patience. And some obscure books. And some very small tools.”

  “Well, I'll be impressed if you can get any of this junk working. Do you think it could catch any good buyers on eBay or a place like that?”

  “Maybe.” Michael rubbed his chin, looking much more skeptical than he had before Ryan arrived. “I'd really have to take a good look inside each piece and see what's actually left, what's functional...a couple of these might be worth fixing up and seeing what we can get for it. But I can't make any promises.”

  Ryan nodded, looking a little deflated by what sounded like bad news. Or iffy news. Certainly not the “small fortune” Michael had been talking about.

  “Feel free to have a look at them,” Ryan said. “I'll grab the keys. And there's tools up in the workshop.”

  “Good, I didn't bring any. I didn't know this would be such a working vacation.” Michael cast an amused look at me. Maybe he was commenting on how little time we'd managed to spend together so far while I was busy working.

  Well, we were all together now. Like a big, messy sitcom family under one wacky roof.

  The building might have been three stories high, with caves running deep underneath it, but it was starting to feel a little crowded to me.

  “I hate it in there!” Ronan shouted, running out of the settlers exhibit.

  “Stop being so dumb!” Penny shouted after him.

  Melissa strolled out after them, smiling and shaking her head. “This place is amazing, huh?”

  That wasn't good—I wanted her bored, not interested.

  “We were about to head up to the offices and workshop on the second floor,” I said. “All of us.”

  “I'll be up there in a minute. After I do some exploring.” Melissa walked to the Hall of Monsters and looked in at the dead snakes and birds. “Gross.” She entered the exhibit, as though drawn in by the promise of more gruesome things to come. “So where are these fake monsters I've heard about?”

  “Toward the back,” Penny told her.

  “We don't want to get separated,” I told Melissa.

  “Oh, we don't? I didn't realize.” She lingered a bit longer. “You think those are real Bigfoot bones?”