The Midnight Tour bhc-3

by Richard Laymon

  “So who’s the dead guy?”

  “Some puckin’ movie director.”

  “Lib!”

  “He’s not her father?”

  “Nah.”

  “You’ve both been handing me a pack of lies?”

  “I’ll tell you all ‘bout da trute apter we...”

  “Maybe you oughta get off me,” Harry said. “I think we’d better...”

  “You want her?” Lib asked. “You want Charly?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Me pirst. You can hab her apter you get done wit me. I promise. She gibs you any shit, I’ll eben hold her down por you.”

  “But...”

  “Less you don’t want her.”

  “I don’t know. She’s just a kid.”

  “Dat don’t matter.”

  “I don’t know what’s going on, here. Let’s just stop so I can try to figure...” He stopped talking and moaned.

  “Yesssss,” Lib said.

  “Uh. God. Oh.”

  “All de waaaayyy.”

  “Mmmmm.”

  “You like?”

  “Oh. Yeah. God.”

  Sandy stepped to the edge of the grave with the lantern. All she could see of Harry were his legs. He seemed to be stretched out on the bottom of the grave, his trousers around his ankles. Lib’s jeans and shoes were down there, too. She was naked and on her knees, hunched over him, gasping and groaning as she moved up and down. Her back and buttocks were dirty.

  Sandy set down the lantem.

  She raised the shovel high and swung it down hard.

  Striking the back of Lib’s head, it rang out like a bell.

  Lib flopped down on Harry.

  “Hey!” Harry gasped. “What’s going on? Bambi? Bambi? What the matter?”

  “I think the shovel hit her,” Sandy said.

  “What?”

  “I hit her with your shovel.”

  “Are you nuts?”

  “Who, me?”

  “My God, Charly!”

  Harry’s hands came out from under Lib. Grabbing her by the upper arms, he tried to push her up.

  Sandy tossed aside the shovel and leaped off the edge of the grave. She landed with both feet in the middle of Lib’s back.

  Harry grunted.

  “You all right?” Sandy asked.

  “Uh!”

  “You won’t be!” Arms out for balance, she jumped up and down on Lib’s back. Each time she landed, Harry let out a noise as if he’d been kicked in the stomach.

  After five or six jumps, Sandy bent her knees and sat down on the edge of the grave, her shoes still planted in the middle of Lib’s back.

  “How are you doing, Harry?” .

  He moaned.

  Leaning forward, Sandy stared down into the hole. She could see the back of Lib’s head. She supposed that Harry’s face must be directly under Lib’s face, but the light didn’t reach down that far.

  “How was she, Harry? Was she to die for?”

  He didn’t answer.

  Standing again, Sandy put her weight onto her right foot. With her left foot, she stomped the back of Lib’s head. She felt the collision with Harry’s face. She heard it, too.

  “Did that hurt?” she asked.

  Nothing.

  She turned, stepped on Lib’s buttocks, then on the backs of her legs. At the foot of the grave, she squatted over Harry’s trousers. She found his pistol in one pocket, his wallet in another. She stuffed them into the pockets of her shorts, then climbed out.

  Leaving the lantern, shovel and pick by the side of the grave, she hurried over to the body of Marlon Slade.

  She bent over, grabbed his ankles, raised his legs, and dragged him across the clearing. It was tough work. By the time she reached the edge of the grave, she was sweaty and huffing for air.

  She dropped his feet.

  Then she picked up the lantern and crouched over the grave.

  Harry’s legs were still stretched out between Lib’s legs.

  She was still on top of him, hiding most of his body. By lowering the lantern into the hole, however, Sandy could see more. Harry’s right arm lay against the bottom of the hole at an angle away from his body. Lib’s left breast drooped between his arm and his side just under his armpit. Her face was pressed against the side of his head.

  Sandy could see a little of Harry’s face.

  His left eye, the profile of his nose, his lips and chin.

  There was a lot of blood.

  As she stared down at Harry, his eye blinked.

  “Hello, Hany,” Sandy said.

  He groaned.

  “You still in her?”

  His lips moved slightly, but he said nothing.

  “Was she worth it?”

  He said, “Uhhh.”

  “You two belong together.”

  “Heh...”

  “What?”

  “Help,” he murmured.

  “Maybe Bambi’ll help you. She’s very accomodating.”

  With that, Sandy stood up. She stepped away from the grave, set down the lantern, then squatted beside the body of Marlon Slade.

  “Char... ?”

  She tumbled Slade into the grave.

  Then she filled it in.

  Chapter Seventeen

  NO-SHOWS

  When Dana saw Warren striding toward her across the front lawn of Beast House, she hopped off the stool and raised a hand in greeting. Her heart was pounding fast.

  “You made it through your first day,” he called, still a distance away.

  “Pretty much.”

  “How’d it go?”

  “Lunch went great.”

  He grinned. “Mine, too.” He stopped in front of her. Looking a little embarrassed, he pushed his hands into the front pockets. of his shorts and tilted his head to one side. “Anyway, it was sure nice to meet you.”

  “Same here.”

  “A fellow Southern Californian.”

  “I’m no fellow,” Dana pointed out.

  His grin widened and he blushed. “No, you’re sure not. Anyway, I’ll probably be seeing you around.”

  “Probably at the snack stand tomorrow.”

  “Hope so.”

  Looks like he’s not gonna ask me out. Okay.

  “Well,” he said, “I guess I’d better get going.”

  “Okay. You walking?”

  “Yeah. My place is just over there.” He pointed across the street toward the wooded area just north of the old brick Kutch house.

  “Your cabin’s in the trees there?” Dana asked.

  “Yep.”

  “Do you have an ocean view?”

  “Not much of one. You can see just a little water through the trees.”

  “Sounds neat.”

  “It’s not bad.”

  You’re not much of a hint-taker, pal.

  “Anyway,” he said, “I guess I’d better get going.”

  “Okay. See you tomorrow.”

  “See you.” He turned away and opened the iron gate next to the turnstile. On the other side of it, he glanced back and smiled again. “Take it easy, Dana.”

  “Thanks.”

  He started walking away.

  “Hey, Warren?”

  He stopped and turned toward her.

  “You wouldn’t want to stick around for a few minutes, would you? I might have to look through the house. We’ve got some no-shows.”

  He stared at her, frowning slightly.

  “Three players didn’t get returned,” she explained.

  “You’re kidding.”

  “I wish.”

  He lifted an arm and checked his wristwatch. “It’s only ten after. They’ll probably turn up. Some people don’t pay much attention to what time it is.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

  “Lynn’s still here, isn’t she?”

  “She’d better be. She’s my ride.”

  “Anyone else?”

  “I guess Rhonda’s still around
. Clyde took off at five, and Sharon left a few minutes ago.”

  Nodding, Warren scowled toward the house. “I guess I can wait a while...at least till...oh, here comes Lynn.”

  Dana looked over her shoulder and saw Tuck trotting down the front porch stairs.

  “So,” Warren said, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Dana swung her head around in time to see him smile, wave, and turn away. Trying not to let her surprise and disappointment show, she smiled back at him. “Okay,” she called. “See you tomorrow. Bye.”

  “Bye.”

  She watched him walk to the edge of Front Street. His head swung from side to side as he checked for traffic. Nothing seemed to be coming. He ran across the street, then turned to the right and walked quickly along the dirt shoulder. With each stride, pale puffs of dust drifted up behind his shoes.

  “You met Warren,” Tuck said.

  Dana turned around. “Yeah.”

  She felt herself tighten inside.

  Don’t ask.

  “We’ve still got three tape players out,” she said.

  “Three?” Tuck wrinkled her nose, pivoted and stepped closer to the shelves. Standing in front of them, she planted her hands on her hips. The breeze fluttered her shorts and blouse, and swept her long hair sideways. Streamers of hair blew across her face, but she made no attempt to brush them away.

  What’s taking her so long? Dana wondered.

  The edges of the shelves were marked with red numbers spaced six or seven inches apart. Above each number, there was room for one cassette player and headphone set.

  Returning the used ones, Dana had been careful to fill each place in order.

  There were spaces for 150 of the listening machines.

  All the shelves except one were completely loaded. But that final shelf was empty above 148, 149 and 150.

  It shouldn’t take a major study to figure out that three players were still out.

  “Tuck?”

  She turned around, frowning at Dana through her blowing blond hair. “Looks like we’ve got a problem,” she said.

  “You look worried,” Dana told her.

  “I was just inside. I thought everybody’d cleared out. If three people are still in there, they must be hiding.”

  “Doesn’t this sort of thing happen all the time?”

  “Not exactly all the time. And I’m particularly not thrilled that it’s happening on top of the Ethel situation.”

  For a moment, Dana didn’t know what Tuck meant. Then she remembered how they’d found the Ethel that morning—the gown ripped where it wasn’t supposed to be ripped, the mannequin’s breasts and vagina exposed.

  “You think there might be a connection?” she asked.

  “Hope not.” She frowned. “I suppose Clyde’s long gone.”

  “He took off at five.”

  “Yeah, he does that. Times like this, I sort of wish we had a whole staff full of tough guys.”

  “I shouldn’t have let Warren leave.”

  “That’s okay. He wouldn’t have been much help, anyway. Who is still here?”

  “Just us and Rhonda, I guess. Maybe the girl who works with Warren at the snack counter...”

  “Windy? She would’ve left by now. Same with Betty.”

  “Who’s Betty?”

  “Runs the gift shop. You haven’t met her yet?”

  Dana shook her head.

  “Sweet little white-haired gal.”

  “Oh, her. I think I might’ve seen her leaving. She went through the side gate.”

  “Probably with Windy. They ride together.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  “Guess it’s just the three of us,” Tuck said. She pulled the walkie-talkie off her belt, raised it to her face and thumbed the talk button. “Rhonda? Do you read me?” She released the button.

  For a few seconds, her speaker buzzed and crackled. Then Rhonda’s voice came out. “I’m here.”

  “What’s your location?”

  After a long pause, she said, “The restroom.”

  “Are you going to be long?”

  “Well...Son of. What’s going on?”

  “We’ve got three no-shows.”

  “Three.”

  “Yeah. Anyone there in the John with you?”

  “Of course not! Cripes!”

  “I didn’t mean that.” Grinning, she added, “You’ve got a dirty mind, Rhonda.”

  “I do not!”

  Tuck laughed. Then her grin faded and she said, “When you’re done, take a look around for our stragglers. Check both restrooms, the eating area, the gift shop. I’ll come around and lock up later, but we need to find our missing customers. Okay?”

  “I can’t go into the men’s restroom,” Rhonda said.

  “Sure you can. Just knock first. Nobody’s supposed to be in there, anyway. Dana and I will be going on into the house.”

  “Do you want to wait for me?”

  “Negative on that. Tell you what. When you get done there, come on out to the front of the house but don’t go in. Just keep your eyes and ears open and get ready to call for help.”

  Rhonda didn’t respond.

  “Did you get that?” Tuck asked.

  “Maybe you oughta not go in,” Rhonda said. Even through the static, Dana could hear the tension in her voice.

  “We’ll be fine. Just do what I asked, okay?”

  “Okay. Well, be very careful.”

  “That’s a big ten-four, darlin’.” Smiling, she gave Dana a nervous glance and returned the walkie-talkie to her belt. “Probably nothing to worry about,” she said.

  “If there’s nothing to worry about, how come you’re so damn worried?”

  “Me? Ha ha! I laugh at danger!”

  Dana laughed and shook her head.

  “Let’s go,” Tuck said. “It is a good day to die.”

  “Very amusing.”

  Side by side, they started walking toward Beast House.

  “Probably just some kids screwing around,” Tuck muttered.

  “But they didn’t return their players,” Dana said. “So they must know we’ll come in and look for them.”

  “Maybe that’s what they want. A little game of hide and seek.”

  “You don’t suppose...” Not wanting to go where the sentence was leading, she ended it.

  “What?” Tuck asked.

  She shrugged. “Never mind.”

  “Come on. Give.”

  “Well...They won’t, you know, try to jump us?”

  “That’s why I’m bringing you along, Bullwinkle.”

  Dana lurched sideways, ramming Tuck off the walkway. Tuck stumbled through the grass, but didn’t fall. “Hey! Hey! Take it easy on the kid, huh?”

  “I’ll pound your butt for you.”

  Laughing, Tuck returned to the walkway. “You’re such a hard-ass.”

  “What do we do really?”

  “If we get jumped?”

  “Yeah?”

  They started to climb the porch stairs. Dana glanced at the dangling body of Gus Goucher. Swaying and turning ever so slightly in the breeze, it made quiet, creaking sounds.

  “Probably won’t happen,” Tuck said.

  “But what if it does?”

  “You fight them off, and I’ll run for it.”

  “Seriously. I mean, what if it’s three guys, and they’re just waiting for us?”

  “Are they cute guys?”

  “Oh, very funny.”

  Tuck hurried across the porch. As she pulled the door open, she said, “It’ll be fine. Probably. You go first.”

  “Me?”

  “Size before beauty.”

  “Bitch,” Dana said, but she was smiling as she stepped over the threshold. She felt strange: amused, jittery, excited, but not terribly frightened.

  Tuck came in. Instead of shutting the door, she swung it wide open and kicked a doorstop under its edge. “In case we need to get out fast.”

  “Great.”

  Tuck grinned.
Then she shouted, “HELLO, EVERYONE! ITS PAST CLOSING TIME! ITS TIME FOR YOU TO LEAVE! PLEASE COME OUT NOW FROM WHEREVER YOU’RE HIDING, AND EXIT THROUGH THE FRONT DOOR.”

  After her shouting, the house seemed very quiet.

  Dana and Tuck stood in the foyer. They didn’t move. They didn’t talk. Dana barely breathed.

  She wished she could see.

  The sunlight coming through the doorway was so bright that she could hardly make out anything in the shadowy areas beyond its reach.

  “Can you see?” she whispered.

  “Not very well.”

  “I feel like I’m half blind. Maybe we oughta shut the door.”

  “And cut off our escape route?” Tuck asked.

  “I’ll protect you.”

  “Oh. In that case...” Tuck turned around, kicked the block clear and eased the door shut, squeezing out the sunlight.

  Murky gloom swallowed them.

  “Fine,” Tuck whispered. “Now we can really see.”

  “It’ll be okay. We just need to wait for our eyes to adjust.”

  “In the meantime...WE KNOW YOU THREE ARE IN HERE. NOW, PLEASE COME OUT. WE’RE NOT GOING TO LEAVE UNTIL YOU COME OUT. OR UNTIL WE FIND YOU. WE WILL FIND YOU. WE’LL BE CONDUCTING A ROOM TO ROOM SEARCH—AND I KNOW ALL THE GOOD HIDING PLACES. SO MAKE IT EASY ON EVERYONE AND JUST COME OUT NOW.”

  For a while, they listened.

  “At what point do we call for the police?” Dana whispered.

  “At no point, if we can help it. This is probably just a prank. But if it turns into something worse...”

  “Hi!”

  They both jumped.

  Suddenly, laughter came pouring down from the same direction as the voice. A couple of vague, blurry figures were visible at the top of the stairs.

  The laughing stopped.

  “Very funny, fellows,” Tuck said. She sounded more cheerful than annoyed.

  She’s probably too relieved to be angry, Dana thought.

  I sure am.

  “Come on down, now,” Tuck said. “It’s time to leave.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” one said.

  “Are we, like, in trouble?” asked the other.

  “Not so far,” Tuck told them.

  They started down the stairs. They were about halfway to the bottom when Dana recognized them.

  “My buddies,” she said.

  “Yeah,” said the one in the Howard Stem T-shirt. “Hi, Dana.”

  “We’re really sorry,” said the Beavis and Butt-head fan. “We didn’t mean to, like, cause any trouble.”

  “What did you mean to do?” Tuck asked.