The Midnight Tour bhc-3

by Richard Laymon

  He saw nobody at all.

  When he finally spotted the neon “No Vacancy” sign of the Welcome Inn, he felt saved.

  I’m all right now.

  Though the courtyard was crowded with parked cars, nobody was roaming about. The room windows were dark. He heard no voices, no laughter.

  Am I the only one up at this hour?

  Trying to be quiet, he let himself into his room. It felt hot and stuffy. He turned on a light and looked around. There were John’s broken glasses on top of the nightstand. And there was the telephone directory where he’d found Lynn’s address.

  No John.

  What did you think, he’d beat you back? He’s still up there, having the time of his life.

  Or else dead.

  He’ll be back, Owen told himself. Any minute now, he’ll come pounding on the door, wanting in. And then he’ll brag about all the great stuff I missed.

  In the bathroom, Owen shut and locked the door. Then he took off his clothes. They were filthy and sodden with sweat. He piled them in a corner of the floor, bent over the tub and turned the water on. It thundered out of the spigot.

  He hoped the noise of the plumbing wouldn’t disturb anyone.

  But he had to take a shower.

  He made it quick.

  As he stood beneath the hot spray, he thought he heard voices, people knocking on the door of his room, even the ringing of his telephone.

  But nobody was there when he got out.

  The red light on the phone wasn’t blinking, so nobody had called and left a message.

  He stepped back into the bathroom, but left the door wide open while he dried himself, brushed his teeth, then urinated and flushed the toilet.

  Done in the bathroom, he searched his suitcase and pulled out his pajamas. They were pale white and neatly folded. He hadn’t worn them at all since leaving Los Angeles, but tonight he might need to haul himself out of bed to let John in. So he put them on.

  I guess I’ll have to let him in, Owen thought.

  Then he gave the bed a quick inspection. Satisfied that there was nothing disturbing between its sheets, he turned off the light and climbed in.

  It felt great.

  He sighed with pleasure, shut his eyes, and fell asleep.

  And lurched awake in the dark room, sweaty and gasping, his heart slamming with fright.

  He sat up and turned on the nightstand lamp. He checked his wristwatch.

  3:20

  He looked at the other bed.

  Where the bell is he!

  Owen switched the lamp off. He flopped back down on the bed and shoved aside the blanket. Even the sheet seemed too hot, so he flipped it away. He shut his eyes and tried to sleep.

  His mind was a turmoil, swirling with a seemingly endless string of feverish scenerios about John, about Dana and Lynn and the beautiful but dangerous stranger, about whoever or whatever had been lurking nearby in the bushes, even about Monica. Some of the images terrified him. Others wracked him with guilt. One moved him with hopes of love. A few made him grow hard with lust. He writhed on the bed, his damp pajamas twisted around his body. He lost track of when he was awake, when asleep. The scenerios wouldn’t stop. They seemed too vivid to be dreams.

  More like hallucinations.

  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 him 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 comers 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 be’s the one who monkeyed with Ethel.”

  Dana smiled and shook her head.

  “Y
ou 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 any 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,” Dam 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 be 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 bang around...

  It seemed too risky. And too much trouble