The Deadliest Institution Collection
Page 67
“No, please, don’t,” Tyler cried out.
“Let him go, Ross,” Brant casually announced.
The phantom looked at Brant, revealing Ross on the unmasked side, and released Tyler’s throat. He took a step back while staring at Tyler and removed his white, half mask.
Ross smirked and wickedly raised his brows. “Scared ya, didn’t I?” He laughed evilly like some old movie villain.
Tyler appeared surprised while staring at Ross. Brant approached them and motioned Tyler to his feet with the gun. Tyler clutched his chest and slowly straightened. Devon hurried onto the set with the sword in her hand and walked up behind Tyler. Tyler continued to stare at Ross and Brant with anger on his face.
“You tricked me,” Tyler cried out while clutching his chest. “You never told me the displays moved and made sounds!”
Brant shrugged. “It didn’t seem important at the time.”
“I think I should play the phantom when we open,” Ross announced.
Tyler pulled a large knife from his lab coat and raised it above his head. He was about to plunge it into Ross when Devon cried out. Ross spun toward Tyler and saw the knife only inches from him. Devon lunged forward with the sword and ran the sharp, pointy end into Tyler’s back straight through his chest. Tyler gasped as his eyes widened and looked at the blade sticking out of his chest. As his eyes rolled back, he sank to his knees and collapsed to the floor. Brant and Ross stared at Tyler with surprise and shock.
“Oh, my God,” Devon cried out, realizing what she had done.
Brant rushed to Devon and gathered her in his arms. Ross continued to stare at Tyler then looked back at Devon. She clung to Brant and sobbed softly.
“Remind me to never piss you off,” Ross announced in a serious tone.
Devon pulled away from Brant and happily hugged Ross. Ross smiled warmly and returned the embrace. They heard the faint sirens outside followed by movement upstairs. Devon quickly pulled away and stared at them with a concerned look.
“Tony went back for Ivy!”
Thundering footfalls were heard running through the displays. Sheriff Carter and Deputy Havens approached them with their guns drawn. Ivy was only steps behind them with several other officers.
“Ivy!” Devon cried out then ran past the police and hugged her friend.
“I was afraid he’d killed you,” Ivy exclaimed.
Devon pulled away from her friend and stared at her with concern. “What about Tony?”
Ivy shook her head. “I gave the bastard what he deserved,” she announced while sneering. “He won’t be coming back.”
“Damn,” Ross cried out. “You girls are dangerous!”
Chapter Fifty-seven
While awaiting the coroner and reinforcements with cadaver dogs, Devon, Ross, and Brant walked through the dungeon displays with Sheriff Carter. Ivy chose to remain upstairs with the deputies rather than review the gruesomeness of the evening. They entered the mummy display and approached the mummy. Devon stood before the mummy and drew a deep, shaken breath.
“You don’t have to do this,” Ross announced gently to his friend.
She extended her hand to him. Ross handed her a pair of scissors. Devon cut the bandages from the mummy’s face to reveal her brother looking perfectly preserved in his wax casing. She trembled and took a step back while fighting her tears. Brant pulled her into his arms and held her. Ross appeared slightly sickened and looked away. Sheriff Carter just stared at Devon’s dead brother. He removed his cowboy hat, shut his eyes a moment, and shook his head. Carter drew a deep breath and looked back at Devon, who found herself staring at her dead brother. Sheriff Carter stepped into her line of sight, keeping her from seeing him.
“Where are the others?” Sheriff Carter asked in an attempt to keep her focused and her mind off her brother encased in wax.
Devon indicated the woman against the pillar and nodded. “That’s Chelsea.”
Sheriff Carter approached the frightened wax explorer woman and carefully removed her dark wig. He stared at Chelsea then shut his eyes and groaned softly.
“Jamie’s in the torture chamber tied to the wheel,” she informed him while shivering at the thought. “And Karl is in the vampire display.”
“Tyler shot a woman in the vampire display,” Brant informed him. “The bullet tore through something I’m convinced was old, dried flesh.”
Sheriff Carter suddenly looked at Brant. “What do you mean ‘old dried flesh’?” he asked with surprise.
Brant drew a deep breath and held it a moment. “The wax figures he claimed to have bought from a closed museum were created from dead bodies as well,” Brant informed him. “He admitted he’s been doing this for decades.”
Sheriff Carter shut his eyes and groaned. “Son-of-a-bitch,” he muttered under his breath. He cast a look back at Devon. “Were there any other wax people giving you a bad vibe?”
Devon nodded with some apprehension. “A lot of them, Sheriff.”
“That’s terrific,” the sheriff muttered then skimmed several pages of notes within his notebook before giving up and tossing it over his shoulder. “Ivy said she found Marlene’s embalmed body at the funeral home. If we have Marlene, Jamie, Karl, your brother, and Chelsea, it’s only logical to assume Tony brought Tamara and Paula to Tyler as well.” He shook his head and looked around. “They must be down here somewhere.” He looked at the three. “Any idea where they’d be while we’re waiting on the cadaver dogs?”
“They would have been placed while Brant was missing,” Ross informed the sheriff. “Tony and Tyler must have been working overtime to get them into displays while Devon and I weren’t around.”
“Just enough confusion with the reconstructed wax figures that Ross and I wouldn’t know who’d done which ones,” Devon added.
“Tyler confessed he was one hell of an artist,” Brant remarked. “While he did a few horrible wax figures for our benefit, he was probably working with Tony to get as many of the dead victims into displays without our knowledge.”
“More were in place just about every morning,” Devon remarked while frowning.
Deputy Havens hurried through the display to join them. “Sheriff, the coroner is here and so are the cadaver dogs.”
Sheriff Carter eyed the three. “You may want to go upstairs and sit this out,” he announced. “This could take a while.”
§
It was later that night and the coroner and his men, along with cadaver dogs, were still investigating the museum. Devon, Brant, Ivy, and Ross sat on the bench in the lobby and watched the parade of coroner’s people remove another stretcher containing a black body bag. It seemed like an endless parade of actual bodies hidden beneath waxy exteriors.
Brant moaned while clutching his head. “How many was that?”
“Twenty,” Ross announced with little emotion. “But who’s counting.” He then shook his head. “Obviously, Tyler had been playing his little game for years with the help of countless morticians.”
“Each time one of his wax museum’s failed, he’d store the wax figures until he could find the next sucker to be his partner,” Brant muttered. “Apparently, I was that sucker.” He watched the stretcher pass and shook his head. “I was stupid enough to believe he’d bought those wax people from a closed museum. The crates containing actual bodies beneath the wax must have been the ones that were already packed up before we arrived at the museum.” He then groaned. “I suppose I deserve whatever happens from this. I’m such a fool.”
“Don’t feel too bad, Brant,” Ross announced and patted his shoulder as he frowned. “I’d changed wardrobe on several of those women and never knew they weren’t just wax figures.”
“That’s because he made sure their private parts were hidden beneath a thick layer of wax,” Devon informed them in a sedate tone. “He had to make sure no one ever discovered the bodies beneath them.”
“I suppose an anatomically correct penis would give it away,” Ivy muttered while holdi
ng her knees to her chest where she sat on the bench. She then eyed Brant. “Who do you suppose they were?”
“Bodies taken from other funeral homes that were stolen from their caskets after the viewing,” Ross reported and shook his head. “Tyler said he was doing this for years. Who knows how long some of them have been encased in wax.”
Brant finally straightened. “I think we should call it an evening,” he announced with a defeated sigh. “We can go to my house next door. The bar is fully stocked, and there are plenty of spare rooms.”
Ross stood while groaning with exhaustion and assisted Ivy to her feet. She appeared stiff and sore from her ordeal. Devon and Brant stood with even less enthusiasm. Brant caught Devon’s hand and held her back as the others left so they’d have a moment alone. She looked at him then eyed his hand holding hers.
His look was serious as he stared at her. “I’m grateful you trusted me tonight,” Brant admitted. “Given the situation, it would’ve been very easy for you to suspect I was involved.” He managed a nervous laugh. “Honestly, you probably shouldn’t have trusted me, but I’m glad you did.”
“I was just hoping I wasn’t wrong,” she replied timidly then offered a warm smile. “When I thought about those rose petals on the floor, the way you made love to me, and that look in your eyes when you told me you loved me; I knew I had to trust my feelings.”
Brant affectionately caressed her hand. “You certainly can’t buy that kind of trust,” he announced.
“What do you intend to do about the museum?” she finally asked with some concern. “Will you still pursue your dream?”
“There’s a part of me that wants to pack it in and give up,” he replied then sighed deeply. “I still have a few dozen wax figures I’d made from scratch, so I know they’re salvageable. At least twenty from the closed museum aren’t cadavers, so that should give me a pretty good start.” He then eyed her and smiled. “I also have some motivated wax artists. We could probably make it work with extra hours, hard work, and dedication.”
“You know Ross and I will do whatever it takes to get the museum up and running,” she announced proudly while clinging to his arm.
“I don’t really have the capital to pay for the amount of overtime we’re going to need,” he informed her while sighing with defeat.
“I’m sure we can work out something,” she insisted, trying to keep him motivated. Devon didn’t want him giving up on his dream.
“Perhaps if I made you and Ross equal partners in this venture, we could make it work,” he remarked then eyed her and smiled. “What do you say?”
Devon stared at him with surprise. “Really?” she announced then became enthusiastic for the first time. “I’d love that.” She hugged him briefly then pulled away and met his gaze. “I don’t think you’ll get much argument from Ross either.”
“Thank you, Devon,” he announced warmly while gently caressing her face and offered a timid smile. “Thank you for believing in me. No one has ever been there for me like you have.”
She wanted to enjoy the compliment, but something Tyler said earlier made her uncomfortable. “How are you going to explain me to your mother?” she finally asked. “I’m guessing she won’t approve of us.”
Brant stared at her with some surprise. “Approve?” he remarked then laughed. “If she thinks there’s any hope of you giving her that grandchild, she’s going to treat you like a princess.” He sighed with relief. “Finally, she can torture someone else for a while.” He raised his brows and grinned. “I am so throwing you under the bus with my mother. In return, you can throw me under the bus with your father.”
She managed a tiny smile and held back her laugh. “Sounds like a fair trade.”
“Not really,” Brant replied then grinned. “You’re totally screwed.”
Both laughed softly. Brant lowered his mouth to hers and was about to kiss her when he saw the coroner’s assistant pushing another stretcher containing a body bag. He groaned lowly and pulled away.
“I think it’s best if we head to my house and work out the details of our new partnership,” he announced while frowning. “This place is starting to give me the creeps.”
She eyed the black body bag on the stretcher as it was wheeled past. The endless conga line of body bags caused her to fidget. “No arguments there.”
Brant hurried her from the museum.
The End
The Murder of Emily Fisher
Holly Copella
Copyright © 2012 Holly Copella
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 1947694057
ISBN-13: 978-1-947694-05-7
In loving memory of
Smokey Snyder
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Copella Books: First Paperback Edition 2017
Cover Artist: Daniela Owergoor
Dani-owergoor.deviantart.com
Printed by CreateSpace, An Amazon.com Company
PUBLISHER’S NOTE
This is a work of fiction. Names, character, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content
Chapter One
Thursday, September 24th, 1981.
“I can’t do it,” Trisha Allister said with a sigh as she leaned on the old, gray stone bridge facing the stream. “Not another day of school. Mr. Malcolm is going to push me right over the edge. I can’t stand him.”
Fifteen-year-old Sidney McBride looked at her raven-haired friend and rested her back to the bridge. “No one likes Mr. Malcolm,” she replied dryly.
Trisha turned sideways and smiled deviously. “Let’s skip school.”
Sidney frowned and rolled her eyes. It was always the same story with Trisha. “And go where? If my father hears I cut class, I’m grounded for a week.”
“He’ll never know,” Trisha said and leaned on her elbow.
“Of course he will,” Sidney replied with a moan. “Nothing escapes the town gossips. Mrs. Cooper and Mrs. Randall make it their business to know everything.”
It was a crisp, fresh September morning. The trees were starting to change colors, giving the woods between the development and town an almost scenic appearance. Sidney admired the tall trees as the branches gently swayed in the breeze.
Trisha groaned and struck the bridge with her palm, returning Sidney to reality. “I don’t wanna go to class today,” Trisha whined childishly.
Sidney looked at her friend and laughed mockingly. “Didn’t do your report for Mr. Malcolm’s class, did you?”
Trisha moaned again and rolled her eyes. The two girls had been best friends since kindergarten. Trisha had always been the adventurous one while Sidney liked to play it safe. Sidney admired her friend for her spirit and her daring ways. Trisha was often expressing her opinion, which ruffled a few feathers in their small town, especially coming from a teenage girl. Her latest verbal debate was over the recently appointed Sheriff Drukard and his lack of leadership.
The historic stone bridge was located in the woods between the town of Marilina itself and the new development to the north. The vast forest and the bridge was the quickest route to town for most of the schoolkids. The bridge also became a popular hangout for teenagers after school. It was built back in the late eighteen hundreds along with the stone house, which was just a short walk from the bridge and town.
“Billy Randall will be at football practice after school,” Sidney said while grinning. “You wouldn’t want to miss that, would you?”
Trisha lifted her head and forced a smile. “No, I suppose not,” she said gently. “But I’m sure you want to leave right after last period.”
“Well, not today,” Sidney said and heaved herself onto the bridge, sitting casually, and looked at her friend. “I need to use the sc
hool typewriter.”
“For what?” Trisha asked.
Sidney looked away as the color rose to her cheeks and a slight smile crossed her face. “I want to type something,” she announced then hesitated and spoke almost timidly, “for Harlan.”
Trisha chuckled lowly while grinning. “Don’t let your father hear that,” she replied. “If he knew his fifteen-year-old daughter had a thing for a twenty-five-year-old man, particularly his employee, he’d ground you for life and kill Harlan.”
“Come on,” Sidney replied dryly at her friend’s dramatic comment. “My father isn’t that bad.”
Trisha sharply raised her brows and stared at her.
Sidney frowned and looked away. “Okay, so he’s a little protective. It’s not like I’m going to sign the letter.”
“A secret admirer?” Trisha teased with delight. “I like the sound of that.”
“Harlan is everything I’ve ever wanted in a guy,” Sidney said with a dreamy sigh. “He’s handsome, smart, mature--”
“Older, experienced,” Trisha added with a giggle.
Sidney smirked and shook her head. “He’s English,” she announced. “What more could a girl want?”
“Someone her own age,” Trisha replied. “Someone she could seriously consider dating. You’re wasting your time.”
“And like Billy Randall, super jock, would ever consider dating a ninth grader?” Sidney snapped.
“Am I detecting some hostility?” Trisha remarked then cast a sly look at Sidney.
Sidney smiled and sighed deeply while sinking into her own fantasy. “I feel so good when I’m around Harlan. Every time I see him, my heart skips a beat.” Sidney turned her head and looked at Trisha. “He has the sexiest voice I’ve ever heard. I love his accent.” She inhaled deeply and sighed. “He calls me love.”