Every so often, cars drove up. There were knocks on the door and he climbed out of bed, thinking John had finally returned. The first time, John stood there headless. Another time, he seemed all right but out of breath and frantic. ‘Let me in! Let me in! It’s after me!’
‘What’s after you?’
‘The great white ape! Let me in!’
Still another time, Owen had opened the door and found John naked and torn and bloody all over, his stiff severed penis protruding from his mouth like a cigar.
‘Need a light?’ Owen asked.
In answer, John jerked his mouth open wide and the penis fell out and he screamed like a terrified lunatic.
Longest damn night of my life, Owen thought as he stared out the window at the sunny courtyard.
John’s car wasn’t there.
I wonder if I should call the police.
And tell them what? he asked himself. That we were up in the hills last night spying on some naked gals in a Jacuzzi and John disappeared?
Real cute.
Besides, who’s to say he isn’t perfectly all right? He might’ve even ended up in the sack with one of those gals.
Fat chance.
The hell with him anyway. He’s a jerk.
Owen turned away from the window.
Might as well get dressed and . . .
I’d better take another shower first, he thought. He certainly needed one. And maybe a long, hot shower would loosen up his tense muscles, help him to calm down.
Inside the bathroom, he shut and locked the door and peeled off his damp pajamas.
As he stood under the hot spray, he decided that he would have a nice breakfast, then go over to Beast House and try to get a refund on John’s ticket for the Midnight Tour.
‘Your ticket? Well, you disappeared, old pal. I really didn’t think you’d have any use for it, so I sold it.’
‘YOU SOLD MY TICKET???’
‘Sorry.’
A weary smile lifted the corners of Owen’s mouth.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Saturday Gets Under Way
‘Wake up! Yo! Time to rise and shine, your highness. It’s me. Lynn. You there? You gonna pick up? Where the hell are you? Anyway, we had a visitor last night – as you already know if you listened to the previous message. We subsequently searched the house but didn’t have any luck finding him. Don’t know how he got in, either. But then, you’re the trained investigator, not us. And you’re making yourself conveniently scarce. Bitch. Hey, we are starting to worry about you. Not that you can’t take care of yourself, but . . . Never mind. We’re leaving for work in a couple of minutes. You can call me there or drop by. And don’t forget about tonight. We’re expecting you for the tour – in full battle regalia. Plan to get there in time for the picnic if you can. But don’t make us wait all day to hear from you, okay? It’d be nice to know you didn’t have an accident and shoot off your toe or something. Not that we care. Anyway, take it easy. Bye.’
On the way to Beast House in the passenger seat of the Jeep, Dana pictured herself asleep in the bedroom while someone hunched over her in the darkness, sliced her nightshirt all the way down, spread it open and snapped photographs of her body.
Did he use a flash?
Why didn’t I wake up?
And why did he leave his camera behind?
She realized that Tuck had spoken to her. ‘Huh?’ she asked.
‘The blue Granada. It’s gone.’
Dana looked at the area of curb where the car used to be. ‘You’re right. Maybe its owner finally showed up.’
‘Or Eve had it towed away last night.’
‘But where is she?’ Dana asked.
Tuck shook her head. ‘Who knows? Maybe she spent the night somewhere with a secret boyfriend. Or maybe she was at home and just couldn’t hear the phone from her bedroom. Or heard it, but didn’t feel like answering.’
‘Do you think she’s all right?’
Tuck shrugged. ‘I don’t know. But I think it’s way too early to start worrying.’
‘When should we start worrying?’
Tuck swung off Front Street. She stopped at the closed gate to the Beast House parking lot, then met Dana’s eyes. ‘If she doesn’t show up for the Midnight Tour.’
Tuck and Dana entered Beast House together for the walkthrough.
In the attic, Tuck pointed out where she’d found the patch of fabric from Ethel’s gown – at the feet of a scraggly, stuffed brown monkey.
Dana had never seen the monkey before. ‘Where’d that thing come from?’ she asked.
‘Oh, that’s Vincent the umbrella stand. Maybe he’s the one who monkeyed with Ethel.’
Dana smiled and shook her head.
‘You know what?’ Tuck said. ‘This is a little strange. Should’ve mentioned it to Eve last night. Vincent isn’t supposed to be here.’
‘Where is he supposed to be?’
‘He used to be down in the foyer where everybody’d see him when they started the tour. He freaked people out. Kids used to cry. Even adults thought he was awful. So I’m told. Janice had him removed before my time. She actually couldn’t stand the cute little guy.’
‘Nothing cute about him.’
‘Oh, I don’t know.’ Reaching down, Tuck patted the top of his head. Pale dust rose. He wobbled slightly.
‘Real nice. Touch him.’
‘The thing is, Janice hid him. She put him way over there in a back corner and covered him with a sheet so nobody would see him.’
‘You saw him.’
‘What can I say? I’m a snoop. Anyway, he was tucked out of sight until yesterday. Obviously, somebody moved him.’
‘Great,’ Dana muttered.
‘Maybe whoever messed with Ethel. Or maybe it was the kid.’
‘Lance?’
‘Yeah.’
‘I doubt if he was up here long enough. But you know what? This monkey might be what scared the crap out of him.’
‘A cute little fellow like Vincent?’ Tuck asked, and again patted the monkey’s head.
Unwilling to wait alone in the kitchen, Dana followed Tuck down the cellar stairs. They creaked under her footfalls. As she decended, she smelled dank earth and felt the air grow cool. ‘Charming place,’ she muttered.
‘You should see it at night.’
‘Can’t wait.’
‘I get people sometimes, they won’t even come down here. Or they’ll start down, then run back up. You believe it? They fork out a hundred bucks for the tour, then can’t even work up the nerve to visit the cellar.’
‘I’m on their side,’ Dana said.
At the bottom of the stairs, she quickly scanned the cellar. She’d only been down here once before, during Tuck’s ‘orientation’ tour on Wednesday. She hadn’t liked it then. Now, she liked it even less. It seemed more cluttered than the attic. Lit by one dim, bare bulb dangling by a wire, it had too many shadows, too many dark places where someone might crouch and lurk.
‘I think I’ll just wait right here,’ she said.
‘Pussy.’
‘Meow.’
‘Oh, that’s pathetic.’ Footsteps silent on the dirt floor, Tuck walked toward the tunnel hatch.
The area in front of it had been cleared of junk.
The floor hatch was Station Twelve of the audio tour.
From where Dana stood, she couldn’t see much of the round steel cover because Tuck stood in the way.
Glancing over her shoulder, Tuck asked, ‘Ever see The House on Haunted Hill? William Castle? Had Vincent Price in it? I caught it on cable a few months ago. There’s this awful scene in the cellar. The candles blow out . . .’ She grinned. ‘Scared the bejeezus out of me.’
‘I’m glad. Can we get out of here?’
Laughing, Tuck crouched over the hatch and tested the padlock. ‘Well, this one’s okay,’ she said.
‘Do you always check the locks?’
‘Every morning,’ she said on her way back. ‘We don’t want a
ny surprises, do we?’
‘Seems like we get them whether we want them or not.’
‘Some surprises are worse than others.’
As Dana watched, Tuck made her way over to the ‘old jailhouse door’. Never intended for jail use, however, it had been special-ordered by Janice to seal off the Beast House end of the tunnel leading westward to the Kutch house.
Through the bars of the door, Dana could see the opening of the tunnel. Light spilled in from the cellar, then faded to blackness.
Tuck stepped up to the door.
That’s where Warren got jumped.
Dana slipped a hand into the baggy front pocket of her uniform shorts and wrapped her fingers around the grips of her pistol.
How could they not tell Tuck about what happened to Warren? My God, she comes in at night. Week in, week out.
Doesn’t know any better.
It’s all a lark for her.
I oughta tell her, myself.
‘Locked up tight as a frog’s asshole,’ Tuck said.
‘Good. Let’s get out of here.’
Dana waved to the others, then veered off and headed for the snack stand.
Warren smiled at her through the order window. ‘Morning,’ he said.
‘Hi.’
She had a sudden urge to embrace him.
‘Can I come in for a minute?’ she asked.
‘If you don’t mind everybody knowing.’
‘I don’t mind. Do you?’
‘Go to the back.’
Dana hurried around to the rear of the snack stand. There, Warren opened a door for her. She rushed up a couple of stairs and into the small enclosure. Warren shut the door and turned to her.
‘Missed you,’ he said, taking her into his arms.
‘Me, too.’
They kissed gently. Dana pulled him hard against her. She could feel the moist heat of his mouth. She could feel his chest and belly. She could feel his breathing. She moaned with the feel of him.
After a few seconds, they ended the kiss and loosened their embrace.
‘Have a good time after I dropped you off?’ Warren asked.
‘Oh, I’ve had better – like back at your place. How about you?’
‘Well, I got lonely and tried on your bra.’
Laughing softly, Dana said, ‘I tried on your underwear.’
‘Oh, gross. Did you?’
‘Maybe I’m wearing ’em now.’
While one of his hands stayed in the middle of her back, the other glided down and felt her through the seat of her uniform shorts. ‘You’re not really, are you?’
‘That’s for me to know . . .’
‘And for me to find out?’
‘But not now,’ Dana said. ‘I’ve gotta go out and get to work.’ She kissed him on the mouth, then eased away. ‘See you later.’
Opening the door for her, Warren asked, ‘Are you still planning to go on the tour tonight?’
‘Afraid so.’
‘I wish you’d change your mind about that.’
‘Me, too,’ Dana said, and hurried out.
Chapter Forty-Eight
A Ticket to Die for
After breakfast, Owen walked to Beast House. The morning was fresh and sunny. He couldn’t really enjoy it, though. Nor could he look forward with much enthusiasm to the Midnight Tour.
John hung over his head.
He’ll kill me if I sell his ticket.
Probably won’t kill me, Owen thought, but he’ll sure as hell never forgive me. It’ll crush him. I can forget about ever seeing those pictures he took last night.
Oh, God, I’ve gotta see those! I’ve gotta have copies!
Do I? he asked himself. Even if the pictures turn out fine, they’ll never be as good as what I saw.
Walking along Front Street, he called an image into his mind of Dana standing by the Jacuzzi and pulling off her huge white T-shirt. He saw her so clearly that he started to get hard.
The hell with John’s pictures, he thought. The hell with John. If he shows up, I’ll just smile and say, ‘Sorry, but you disappeared. I didn’t think you’d be back, so I took in your ticket for a refund.’
‘YOU WHAT!!!’
Anyway, Owen told himself, maybe John won’t be back. Maybe something actually did happen to him.
He’s probably fine.
Sure.
‘He won’t be so fine,’ Owen muttered, ‘when he drags his fat, sorry ass back from wherever he’s been all night and finds out his little prank cheated him out of the Midnight Tour.’
Though feeling sick with tension – and probably lack of sleep – Owen grinned.
By the time John shows up, he thought, it’ll be a done deal.
If he shows up.
As Owen walked closer to the ticket booth, he saw that only eight or ten people were standing in line.
Won’t be much of a wait.
After I get my refund, he thought, maybe I should go back to the room and take a nap. A long nap. Maybe I can sleep all afternoon. Then I’ll be good and fresh for tonight.
As he walked closer to the ticket booth, he looked through its glass.
And saw Dana at work inside.
Oh, no!
Heat flashed through his body. He felt as if his skin might burst into flame. Sweat seemed to spill out of every pore.
He didn’t think Dana had seen him yet; she was talking to a customer.
Afraid that stopping might draw attention to himself, he slowed down, turned his head as if looking back for someone, then made a casual U-turn and started walking away.
At the first intersection, he turned to the right and stepped past the corner of a bakery.
Can’t see me now.
He stopped and took deep breaths, trying to calm down.
Now what? he wondered. I can’t ask for a refund, not with Dana working the booth. She knows all about me and Monica and how I feel about her and . . . Oh, man, I saw her naked last night. How can I face her?
She doesn’t know I watched her.
Unless John told.
They caught him and made him talk?
Don’t be ridiculous, Owen thought. The only way she could know is if John went back and joined the party and shot off his mouth.
Wouldn’t put it past him.
But if that’s what he did, where is he?
In jail?
That’s possible, Owen thought. If he went back, maybe they had him arrested. That would certainly explain why he hasn’t turned up yet.
Turned up where?
Owen had been away from the motel room for more than an hour and a half.
Maybe he’s back by now.
As Owen hiked toward the motel, he thought, I have all day to return the ticket. Maybe if I time things to show up during Dana’s lunch break . . .
But he didn’t know when that might be.
I’d have to go back and hang around . . .
It seemed too risky. And too much trouble.
Besides, he could always sell the ticket to a tourist at the last minute.
What if John turns up before then?
I’ll say I already sold it. That’ll fix him. See the look on his face. Then, if he’s good, I can surprise him with it.
The best of both worlds, Owen thought.
When Owen entered his room at the Welcome Inn, John still wasn’t there.
Both beds had already been made, their blankets smooth and flat, pillows neatly arranged at the heads. There were fresh glasses on the tray with the ice bucket, clean towels and washcloths in the bathroom.
Owen shut the curtains, closing out most of the light. Then he changed into his pajamas, pulled back the blanket of the bed he’d used last night, and climbed between the sheets.
Lying on his back, he raised his left arm and stared at his wristwatch.
Maybe set the alarm for five or six, he thought. Just to make sure I don’t oversleep and miss the tour.
I probably won’t even fall asleep at all, but I’d better pl
ay it safe.
He decided to set the alarm for 4:00 p.m. That would give him time to try the ticket booth once more before closing time.
What if Dana’s still there?
Cross that bridge when I come to it.
He saw himself step up to the ticket window. Dana smiled at him. A soft, warm smile that made him long for her. ‘Hi, Owen,’ she said.
‘Hi, Dana.’
‘You just keep coming back for more, don’t you? What are you, a glutton for punishment?’
‘I can’t get enough of Beast House,’ he told her, thinking I can’t get enough of you, either.
‘Where were you last night?’ she asked.
The question knocked his breath out.
As he tried to think of a lie, Dana said, ‘I thought we had a date.’
‘We did?’
A look of disappointment on her face, she nodded and said, ‘I stopped by the motel, but you weren’t there.’
Oh, no. Oh, no. It can’t be true.
‘I really wanted to see you,’ she said.
‘I really wanted to see you, too.’
‘I missed you so much, Owen.’ Reaching out through the ticket window, she gently took hold of his hands.
In his right hand, he was holding John’s ticket for the Midnight Tour.
Dana saw it. ‘Oh, you’re going on the tour tonight?’
‘Yes.’
‘Me, too.’
‘That’s great.’
‘Will you be alone?’
His heart pounded hard. ‘Yes.’
‘Me, too. Do you think we could . . . do it together?’
Somewhere, a car door slammed. Owen woke up, realized he’d only been dreaming, and almost cried.
He hoped to fall asleep again quickly and return to the dream.
But you never get the great ones back. Just the nightmares.
Owen was rushing through the halls of a huge old school building, jerking open doors and glancing into classrooms. At any second, the tardy bell would ring. Where’s my room? Gotta find it! Oh, my God, where is it? I’ll never find it in time. If only I knew the room number!
The Complete Beast House Chronicles Page 96