by Jana DeLeon
“Nice,” I said.
Ida Belle stopped in a scene with what looked like an Egyptian sarcophagus sitting on a stand covered with a drape. “This is Gertie’s home for the night. She climbs inside and when people come through here, she pops up and starts moaning.”
When we got to the end of the maze, I looked over at Ida Belle. “So where is your spot?”
“Oh, I hide behind those hay bales right around the corner,” she said. “People tend to get to the end and want to loiter. I chase them out with the chain saw. Keeps things moving.”
“I like this town more every day,” I said.
An hour and a half later, I was partially revising that statement. It was October, but it was southern Louisiana. It was still eighty degrees. And eighty degrees wearing a costume with a face mask, while surrounded by hay bales that didn’t allow a breeze, was fairly miserable. And that wasn’t even taking into account all the mini-sprints I was doing chasing people with the hatchet. On the flip side, there were the looks of absolute terror and all the screaming and running. That almost made up for the heat.
When I heard the break call go up, I leaned the hatchet against the head block, pulled off my hood, and hurried out of the maze. A small breeze hit me as I stepped beyond the last hay bale and you would have thought I’d just walked into an Arctic storm. It was amazing how that tiny breath of air made everything so much better.
“I’m melting.” Gertie’s voice sounded behind me as she trudged out of the maze. “Good God, this is hot, and that coffin reeks of cedar. I’m going to smell it for a month. Next year, I’m figuring out a way to put a fan back there and maybe an oxygen mask.”
“I thought the coffin was made of plastic,” I said.
“It is, but they store a bunch of stuff inside it to save space, hence the cedar,” Gertie said. “I straight-out vetoed mothballs.”
Ida Belle stepped out and fanned her face. “It’s definitely a warm one this year. I’ll be the first to admit that these clothes will be off before I ever reach the garage door.”
“The exterior door?” Gertie asked. “Or the interior one?”
“What do you think?” Ida Belle asked as we headed off for the restrooms.
“Interior,” Gertie said. “You don’t have any sense of adventure.”
“Flashing my old body around Sinful isn’t adventure,” Ida Belle said. “It’s indecent exposure.”
“At this point, I’d probably give you a pass on the flashing,” I said. “That sexy costume is starting to look better. Lots less fabric.”
Ida Belle nodded and looked over at Gertie. “I’m surprised to see you standing at all. Between the coffin and being wrapped up, I figured you’d be passed out or at least have sweated off all your bandages.”
“I’m definitely hot, but I swear, it feels hotter now than before,” Gertie said. “Maybe it’s because I’m walking. I didn’t do much beyond lift an arm and moan. Sitting up every time seemed like too much effort.”
“All that running has definitely contributed to my exhaustion,” Ida Belle said. “Looks like you might have drawn the good scene after all.”
We headed off for our restroom break, which took far longer than any pit stop should, mostly since the three of us spent most of the time crowded into the wheelchair-accessible stall trying to prevent Gertie from committing a misdemeanor on the way back to her coffin. Fortunately, she’d gotten enough covered that we didn’t actually see her underwear before we helped finish and secure the wrapping, but I did get an occasional flash of black and fluorescent green.
When we finally emerged from the sauna-like restroom, we snagged some cold bottled waters and alternated between chugging the water and wiping the bottles across our foreheads. The other maze monsters were hanging around the ice chests as well, and everyone looked as though they desperately wanted a cold shower and air-conditioning. Unfortunately, the break was over all too soon, and we wrapped up Gertie’s head and trudged back into Hell’s Hallways.
My location was the first stop and Gertie hurried over toward the hatchet. “I just want to swing it around a bit,” she said.
I glanced over at the hatchet and frowned. Something didn’t look right. It was still leaning against the head block but the angle was all wrong. For that matter, the body slumped across the block was, too.
For starters, it had a head, and I’d left it on the ground.
“Wait!” I bolted forward and grabbed Gertie’s arm as she reached for the hatchet.
She glared at me. “I did buy the thing. I think that entitles me to swing it just a time or two.”
“Something’s wrong,” I said. “That’s not how I left the hatchet, and that body has a head. I’m sure I left it on the ground and even if I didn’t, it would have fallen by now anyway. That rod is not all that sturdy.”
They both looked down and frowned.
“Plus, I know that smell,” I said.
Chapter Three
Gertie and Ida Belle stared at the body, then at me.
“What are you doing?” Gertie asked.
“Calling Carter,” I said as I dialed. “That person—man, I’m guessing, based on body structure—is dead. Don’t touch anything.”
Carter didn’t answer his phone, so I left a message for him to come to my location in the maze as quickly as possible and told him it was a huge emergency. Then I sent a text saying the same. Ida Belle called the person working the front of the maze and told him there was a problem inside and to keep people out until further notice. Gertie, apparently not wanting to be left out of all the phoning, pulled out her cell as well. Then she started taking pictures.
“What the heck are you doing?” Ida Belle asked.
“Documenting the scene,” Gertie said. “We’ll need this for our investigation and you know Carter won’t share.”
“What investigation?” Ida Belle asked. “That man is dead, probably murdered, unless someone thinks it’s funny to go around leaving corpses in random places. We’re not law enforcement officers. We don’t investigate murders.”
“We investigate them when one of our friends is involved,” Gertie said as she zoomed in for a close-up of the hatchet.
“None of our friends would be involved in something like this,” Ida Belle said, looking and sounding exasperated.
“Not voluntarily,” Gertie said. “But this is Fortune’s scene and she’s been swinging that hatchet around all night. That might be congealed blood on the blade.”
I leaned over and took a closer look. Sure enough, the bottom of the hatchet was damp with dark red goo that could be blood. It definitely wasn’t the gel I’d used earlier, because it was dried by the time I went on break.
“Crap,” I said. “I think she’s right.”
Ida Belle blew out a breath. “This could be a problem.”
I held in a string of curse words. Of course, I hadn’t hauled a body into my display and hacked on his head, but my prints were definitely on the hatchet. And unfortunately, we’d spent so much break time alone in the bathroom covering Gertie’s butt that there wasn’t going to be anyone to cover mine. While Ida Belle and Gertie were perfectly credible witnesses, they were also perfectly credible accomplices.
“Where is the dummy?” Gertie asked.
I scanned the area. “Based on that new lump of hay in the corner, I’m guessing underneath.”
“I should have known you were the holdup!” Celia’s voice sounded behind us. “I know you three think you’re special, but there’s a line of teens waiting to get in. I am not going to let you ruin their fun. Get in your places and do the job you volunteered for.”
“We have a situation here,” I said. “We’re waiting on Carter.”
I didn’t really want to go into the whole dead body thing, especially with Celia. She’d see it as the perfect opportunity to attempt to get me booted out of town and straight into prison.
“Carter is not running this festival,” Celia said as she looked at the body and frowned.
“Not that you’re doing a good job of it. That head is angled all wrong. I should have expected sloppy work from you.”
She started stomping toward the body. I put out my hand and told her to stop, but she shoved my arm out of the way and kept barreling past. I suppose I could have tackled her, but I was afraid it would make a bigger mess of the crime scene.
“Stop, Celia!” I shouted. “That body is real. It’s not a prop. That’s why we’re waiting on Carter.”
She turned around and gave me a bitch, please look. “Stop making excuses. You screwed up your scene and now you’re trying to cover.”
“She’s telling the truth, you dumb cow,” Gertie said.
I took a step toward her, intending to pull her away, but it was too late. She reached down and clutched the side of the head and pulled.
And darn if the thing didn’t come off.
It must have been removed from the body and then placed back on, but it hadn’t been secured all that well. Of course, that might have been on purpose. How was I supposed to know how crazy killers thought?
Ida Belle, Gertie, and I froze, staring silently as Celia turned around, a triumphant look on her face. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll fix everything you do wrong in this town. I usually do.”
“Celia,” I said, trying to remain calm. “I need you to put that head down and step away. You’re contaminating a crime scene.”
“You think you can fool me with that?” Celia said. “Trying to scare me is juvenile, even for you.”
“She’s telling the truth,” Ida Belle said. “You’re holding a real human head. Jesus, just look at it if you don’t believe us.”
Celia stared at us for a second and something about our demeanor must have caused her to reconsider. She looked down at the head and slowly turned it around. The face staring up at her was covered with white makeup with a black pattern drawn on it, its tongue hanging out all the way to its chin. But there was no doubt it was real. The severed neck and the surrounding muscle and tissue were simply too good for a prop.
The dumbfounded look shifted to horror, and Celia let out a shriek that was probably heard in Canada. Then she pitched the head right at Gertie. Reflex caused Gertie to catch the head, but it only took her a second to realize before she pitched it back toward Celia. It hit her square in the chest and her hands involuntarily clasped around it. She took one look at it, her eyes rolled back in her head, and she dropped like a stone.
“You killed her!” Celia’s cousin Dorothy yelled behind us.
I turned around and saw her pointing at me.
“I didn’t even touch her,” I said.
“You’re CIA,” Dorothy said. “I know all about those goat mind trick things you people did.”
“Are you equating Celia to a goat?” Gertie asked. “Because that’s rather insulting to goats.”
“Oh for Christ’s sake, the Wicked Witch isn’t dead,” Ida Belle said. “She’s just a wimp and passed out when she realized she was holding a real human head from a real dead body.”
Dorothy stared at Ida Belle for several seconds, then looked at Gertie and me. She took a few steps around us and stared down at Celia, who was still clutching the head, then her knees buckled, and she collapsed right on top of her.
Ida Belle shook her head. “It’s a pile of idiots.”
“Pansy idiots,” Gertie said. “Can’t handle a random severed head.”
“Did either of you recognize the head?” I asked.
“Gene Simmons from KISS,” Gertie said. “That’s what the makeup was, anyway. I have no idea who the guy under the makeup is.”
“Me either,” Ida Belle said. “Could be a lot of people.”
“Oh no.” Carter’s voice sounded behind us. “What did you do?”
“How come you always think we did something?” I asked. “Maybe, just maybe, Celia was being Celia and refused to listen when we told her that body was real, and she proceeded to yank his head off. She’s completely contaminated your crime scene.”
“Don’t blame us for that, either,” Ida Belle said. “We tried to stop her but she wouldn’t listen. Had to go yanking on heads.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Carter asked.
I pointed to the torso slumped over the head block. “That is not a prop. Take a good whiff.”
Carter’s nostrils flared and his eyes widened. “You two, get up front and tell them to make sure no one comes into the maze except police or paramedics. My orders.” He pointed at me. “You stay put.”
He yanked out his cell and barked out an order to Deputy Breaux to immediately proceed to my station in the maze. Dorothy and Celia were starting to stir, so he motioned to me and we went over to help Dorothy upright. She looked dazed and completely confused as she glanced back and forth between Carter and me. Then she looked down and caught sight of the head, and her knees buckled again.
“Oh no, you don’t,” Carter said, and half dragged, half carried her to the hay bale wall, where he lowered her to the ground. She slumped against the hay, her breathing ragged. In the meantime, Celia’s eyes popped open.
“Remain completely still, Mrs. Arceneaux,” Carter said.
He might as well have been talking to mosquitoes. Celia took one look at her chest, where the severed head was staring directly at her, and jumped up from the ground in one gigantic leap that I didn’t even think her capable of. At the same time, she tossed the head toward me. I immediately dived to the side, leaving Carter to play wide receiver.
I did a somersault and popped up in time to see Celia running clean through a set of hay bales in a move that would have made offensive linemen jealous. Either inertia or fear kept her going, because she didn’t even stumble. Just barreled right through the bales and kept running until she ran smack into Ida Belle and Gertie, who were rounding the corner. She bounced off Gertie and did a circle, then took off in a run again.
With Gertie’s wrapping caught in her belt.
I had to hand it to Celia. She was carrying some serious momentum. When the bandage ran out of elasticity, it yanked Gertie completely around in a circle, and she fell chest-first on one of the toppled bales. Celia never slowed.
Neither did the unwrapping.
The bandage whirled off of Gertie’s butt and over her legs like an Ace tornado. Ida Belle yelled at Celia to stop as I dived for the bandage. I grabbed it just as Gertie’s underwear came into total view and did a quick spin to wrap the disappearing bandage around my body. Ida Belle grabbed hold of my waist and we both flopped onto the ground, trying to stop the Celia train from completely stripping Gertie. We heard a yelp outside the maze, and then the bandage went slack. Ida Belle yanked a knife from her pocket and sliced it.
I jumped up and turned around to help Gertie, and that’s when I got a full view of her ‘holiday’ underwear. They were solid black with fluorescent green lettering that read If you’ve got it, haunt it.
Dorothy had finally managed to stagger to her feet and stumble our way. Then she looked Carter’s direction, saw the head again, and fell face-forward onto Gertie’s butt. Deputy Breaux ran into the scene, slid to a stop, and looked around like someone who’d just been seriously pranked.
“Get this cow off of me!” Gertie yelled.
Ida Belle and I hauled Dorothy off Gertie and laid her to the side.
Gertie jumped up and grabbed the bandage, then tried to cover the worst of the offending exposures.
“I refuse to be the mummy next year,” Gertie said. “This is above and beyond the call of citizenship. Undressed by that idiot Celia. Assaulted by that moron Dorothy. Now everyone’s going to see my holiday underwear because the elasticity is completely gone from this bandage. No way it’s going to stay put.”
“Stop your grousing,” Ida Belle said. “You know you were dying for everyone to see your underwear. Just parade on out with your usual flair.”
“Deputy Breaux,” Carter said. “Maybe you and Ida Belle could get Dorothy out of the maze befo
re she assaults anyone else or sustains permanent brain damage from hitting the ground. She’ll probably need to see the paramedics. And maybe they could lend Gertie something to cover her assaulted parts.”
Deputy Breaux didn’t move for a full five seconds until Carter reached over and shook him with one hand. The young deputy locked in on the severed head, then jumped over the hay bale and practically pulled Dorothy up in one clean yank. Ida Belle grabbed her other shoulder, and they took off at a fast walk or perhaps even a slow jog. Gertie let out a disgusted sigh and set off after them, the bandage trailing behind her.
Carter looked over at me. “Seriously. The dive? This isn’t kryptonite.”
“I’m not putting my skin cells anywhere near that,” I said, pointing to the head. “I’ve already got enough trouble with this setup as it is.”
His eyes widened as the stark reality of the situation hit him. He cursed and put the head on the ground next to the hatchet. “Tell me everything,” he said. “And I mean everything.”
I gave him a detailed rundown of what had happened, which didn’t take long because most of the story centered around Celia and her foolishness, and he’d been there to see a good lot of that.
“How long were you on break?” he asked.
“Thirty minutes. Same as everyone else.”
“And no one saw you in the bathroom?”
“At first, yes, but it took us a while to re-dress Gertie’s rear. We were in there alone for a good twenty minutes.”
He nodded, his expression grim. “And no one saw you leave the restroom?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t notice anyone standing around, but it’s dark and the lighting isn’t exactly great. Do you have any idea who that is?”
“Won’t be able to tell until the makeup comes off. The medical examiner is not going to be happy with this one.”
“I know I don’t have to tell you how hard it is to cut a head off,” I said. “It’s not like you can manage it with a random kitchen knife. And someone had to have hauled the body here that way because there’s no way they hacked a head off on location or there would be a much bigger mess.”