by Nic Saint
“I did, only it was kinda hard to figure out which ones were my real friends and which ones were my friends because their parents told them to be friendly so they could get the free tickets and the free food and drinks.”
“I see.”
“What about you? What does your family do?”
“Well, my dad is a cop, and so was his dad. My brothers are all cops, and even my sister is a cop. Oh, and before you ask, my uncles are all cops, too.” He laughed. “I guess I knew what I was going to be before I finished grade school.”
“Luitpold told me you used to be a cop in LA?”
His expression darkened. “Yeah. I wanted to be the first one in my family to serve in a big city, and not spend my whole life in Sapsucker.”
I waited for him to continue, but he changed the subject. I guess he wasn’t ready to discuss that part of his life with a total stranger. “So I heard your grandmother is giving a press conference this afternoon?”
“It seems like the best way to tackle this thing is to head it off. Put out our version of the facts before reporters put their own sensational spin on it.”
“I think that’s a great idea. Do you want a representative of the police department on the stage with her?”
I gave him an appreciative look. “That would be great.” Or not. “What are you going to tell them?”
“Oh, just the usual spiel. That a woman was found dead in the Haunted Ride attraction and that the investigation is still ongoing.”
“Thanks,” I said. “Yeah, that would be great.”
We’d arrived at the settler house that doubled as security GHQ and stepped inside. Luitpold was waiting for us at the front desk. “We’ve managed to identify all six people in that car. Four of them are staying at the Sapsucker Lodge. The other two are right here in the interview rooms.”
“What did you tell them?” I asked.
“That there’s been a terrible accident on the ride they were on, and that we would like to ask them a few questions about it.”
“Good,” said Blane. “We don’t want to alarm them. What about the other four?”
“They’re here for the weekend. But the desk clerks have all been notified that they won’t be allowed to check out until they talk to us.”
“Thanks, buddy,” said Blane, patting him on the back. “Great job.” He directed a keen look at me. “So, let’s do this, shall we?”
Luitpold handed me two file folders and I opened them, reading along with Blane as we headed to interview room number one. “Sophronia Hucklebridge is the first one. Nineteen. Been at the park three times. No issues. The second girl is Sebastiane Magg and she’s a goth.”
“A goth?”
I showed him the picture. “Black clothes, black eyeliner, purple hair, lots of piercings and tattoos. Goth.”
“Oh, you mean goth. Why didn’t you say so?” he said with a grimace.
We entered the first room, where a girl with short blond hair with pink streaks was waiting for us. She was biting her nails and looked ill at ease. She was dressed in a ratty denim jacket, frayed jeans and black Converse sneakers. “Hey, how long are you going to keep me here?” she asked the moment we entered. “I know my rights. You’re not cops. You can’t just lock me up.”
“I’m a cop, actually,” said Blane as we sat down across from the teenager.
“Yeah, well, that still doesn’t give you the right to arrest me.”
“You’re not under arrest,” I assured her. “We just want to ask you a few questions about what happened on the Haunted Ride this morning.”
“And who are you?” she asked, going back to biting her nails. “Also a cop?”
“No, I’m Mia Rugg. My family owns this park.”
She nodded. “Charlene’s granddaughter.”
“That’s right. So my colleague already told you what happened to Doctor Reckitt?”
“Is that the woman who died?”
“Yes. Doctor Anny Reckitt.”
I placed a picture of Mrs. Reckitt on the table and she stared at it. “I remember her. She was sitting all the way in the back. Looked very quiet and relaxed. Unlike me.” She snorted. “I was scared shitless. I hate roller coasters.”
“You hate roller coasters and you still got on one?” Blane asked.
She shrugged. “I like to test my limits. Do what I don’t dare. I’m scared of roller coasters and haunted houses so I figured I’d scratch both of them off my bucket list in one go.”
“And? Were you scared?” I asked with a smile.
“No, it wasn’t as scary as I thought. So maybe now I’ll try a bigger roller coaster. Work my way up until I’ve conquered my fear completely.”
“That sounds like a great plan,” said Blane.
Sophronia’s smile disappeared. “Don’t patronize me.”
“You don’t like me very much, do you?” Blane asked.
“I don’t like cops in general,” she admitted.
“And why is that?” Blane asked.
“You’re the enemy,” she declared simply.
“We’re… the enemy?”
“Hey, you know who I am, right? Big brother knows everything about me. You know I’ve been arrested a bunch of times.”
Blane gave her a blank look. “Um…”
“Don’t pretend with me, man. I know you people. You’ve been keeping tabs on me. You probably even know what color underwear I’m wearing right now, don’t you? And I’m pretty sure you’ve been listening in on my calls, too.”
“I promise that I have no idea—”
“Come on, man!” she shouted, throwing up her hands. “You people are all the same! It’s all out there. I know—we all know!” She leaned forward, placing her arms on the table and gave Blane a dirty look. “There’s a revolution coming, baby, and when it does, that’ll be the end of the lot of you. We’re going to wipe you out.”
“That’s all very nice and good,” said Blane, who had trouble suppressing a smile, “but that’s not what I’m here for.”
“So what are you here for? Detective?” she said, wiggling her head.
“Well, we think Mrs. Reckitt may have been the victim of foul play.”
“Foul play? What do you mean?”
“We think she may have been murdered,” I explained. “And we’re going to need your help figuring out what happened, exactly.”
This left the teenager momentarily stunned. “Murdered?”
“Yes.”
“She was thrown from the ride.”
“Someone may have messed with the mechanism, ejecting her from the seat at the exact moment it made that dash into the Pit of Doom,” Blane explained.
“Oh,” said Sophronia, taken aback.
“Did you happen to notice anything out of the ordinary?” I asked.
She shook her head slowly. “I don’t think so.”
“You were right in front,” Blane said, placing a copy of the surveillance picture in front of the girl. “First seat.”
When she saw her picture had been snapped, she frowned. “Yeah, I wanted to experience it from the front row. Figured to get the full experience while I was paying for it.” She tapped the picture. “Do you have cameras all over the place?”
“We do,” I said. “It’s part of our security system.”
“This is worse than the frickin’ NSA,” she said, shaking her head.
“Did you notice anyone getting up from their seat during the ride?” I asked, ignoring her comment.
“No, I wasn’t exactly looking behind me, was I? I was kinda fixated on the ride, not on the others.” She gave me a penetrating look. “Do you work for the NSA?”
“Huh? No, of course not,” I said.
“Don’t lie to me, Mia Rugg. You share these pictures with the NSA, don’t you? You’re all in cahoots. One big conspiracy to keep us down.” She shook her head disgustedly. “Can’t even go to Charleneland without being filmed and recorded. Wait till I tell the movement about this.”
&nb
sp; “Thank you for your time, Miss Hucklebridge,” Blane said blithely, getting up and holding out his hand. “I think we’ve taken up enough of your time.”
“This park is going on the blacklist, girl,” she said to me, ignoring Blane’s offered hand. “We’re blacklisting your ass. This is a conspiracy against the American people! Does Charlene know about this? Is she in on this, too?”
“I think that’ll be all,” I said, a little stiffly. I didn’t like to be called anti-American, and certainly not by a pimply teenager who was clearly deranged.
“I’m holding you accountable!” the girl screamed. “All of you!”
I left the room and took a deep breath.
“Weird, huh?” Blane asked. “And here I thought the goth would be the worst.”
“Don’t speak too soon,” I said. “She just might be.”
And then we stepped into the second interview room.
Chapter 10
Sebastiane Magg was a smallish teenager with purple hair, a lot of metal attached to her face in different places, and lightning bolt tattoos right beneath her ears and descending to her clavicles. She also had very expressive, very large green eyes, and when we walked in they lit up with questions marks.
“So… what am I doing here, exactly? And… who are you people?”
“I’m Mia Rugg,” I said. “My family owns Charleneland.”
“And I’m Detective Blane Jamison,” said Blane. “We’re investigating an unfortunate incident that took place this morning on the Haunted Ride.”
“I was on that ride,” said Sebastiane. “Like, I took it, you know.”
“Yes, we know,” I said. “A woman who was on the ride fell off and… died.”
Her eyes went wide. “No way!”
“Yes, way. And what we would like to know is if you saw something suspicious.”
The girl shook her head. “There were a lot of ghouls, and skeletons, and monsters and stuff…” She gave me a look of astonishment. “So you think one of the monsters took her?”
“Those monsters aren’t real, Miss Magg,” I said. “It’s all animatronics.”
“No way. And they looked so real, too. I thought I was going to die, man.”
I was starting to get the impression that Sebastiane Magg was on something a little stronger than coffee. Her pupils were dangerously dilated and her responses were… weird. Blane seemed to have come to the same conclusion, for he asked, “Are you sure you’re all right, Miss Magg? You look a little frazzled.”
“Yeah, no, I’m great,” said the girl. “In fact I’ve never felt better. This park is just the bomb. I’ve been on all the rides and I think I’ll do another tour when we’re done chatting. So far I liked the Haunted Ride the most, though.”
“I’m afraid we had to close down the Haunted Ride,” I said.
Her face fell. “Oh no! But why?”
I shared a quick look with Blane. “Um, because a person died?”
“So? That just adds to the legend of the ride,” she said, nodding knowingly. “Once that story spreads, everybody is going to want to go on that ride. It’s going to be huge, you guys. Just huge!”
“Well, for now the ride will remain closed,” Blane said. “At least until we can figure out what happened to Mrs. Reckitt.”
“Is that the name of the woman?” She was sitting on the edge of her seat now, clearly eager to learn more. “So how did she die, exactly? I mean, was she snatched from her seat by one of the ghouls? Was her head chopped off? Did she get a huge spear in her gut? Was there a lot of blood?”
“There was no blood,” said Blane curtly. “Now please look at this picture, Miss Magg, and tell me what you see.”
She stared at the picture of the occupants of the ride for a second, then stabbed her finger at herself. “That’s me. I wanted to sit in the front but some bitch beat me to it. I even asked her to switch places but she told me to go screw myself.” Then her eyes went wide again. “Ooh! Do you think she did it? She seemed like a horrible person!”
“What makes you think Mrs. Reckitt was killed?” Blane asked, intrigued.
“Well, I don’t, but wouldn’t it be cool if she was? I mean, it would definitely add to the legend of the ride. Oh, man. Wait till I tell my friends I was on the same ride as this Reckitt person. I’m going to be the bomb!”
“Did you see what happened to Mrs. Reckitt?” Blane asked.
“Well, there was some commotion back there at some point,” said Sebastiane, “but I never looked back. Well, you don’t on these rides, do you? They’re so short and there’s always something going on, so you don’t really pay attention to the others. They’re just there, in the background. In fact if you would ask me who was on the ride I wouldn’t be able to tell you. Apart from that bitch who took my seat, of course,” she added with a frown.
“Some commotion?” I asked. “What kind of commotion?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Like, there was some shuffling or something going on. Like, people moving about. Which is normal. It’s a pretty scary ride, and people move around all the time, just to get away from the monsters.” Her eyes suddenly shone even brighter. “Or to get closer to them, like me.”
“Did you hear any screams when you went into the Pit of Doom?” I asked.
She laughed. “Oh, there was screaming, all right. I think we were all screaming. Me most of all. I’m a screamer. I go on these rides so I can scream as loud as I want and nobody looks at me weird. Better than therapy.”
Well, she certainly looked like she was no stranger to therapy, I thought. But all this still didn’t make us any wiser to what had happened.
“One final question, Miss Magg,” said Blane, fixing the girl with an intent look.
“Uh-huh,” she said seriously. She was loving every second of this interview.
“Did you at any point during the ride get up and change seats?”
We both watched Sebastiane closely. “Change seats? Is that even possible? I mean, I was, like, completely strapped in, man. Couldn’t budge.” Then the realization struck her. “You mean I can unlock the harness? I can do that? Oh, man, that’s just totally rad! I’ll have to try that next time I go on.” She placed her hands on the table and eyed Blane and me with delight. “So how do I do it, huh? How can I get out of my seat? I would love to punch those ghouls when they pop up. Give them a big old punch in the snoot! Get down and dirty with those mother—”
“I’m afraid we can’t tell you that, Sebastiane,” I said. “For your own safety you need to remain strapped in throughout the ride. Or else you might meet the same fate as Mrs. Reckitt.”
“You think she unstrapped herself? That she’s a jumper?” The look on my face must have given me away, for she practically yipped. “Oh, man. This ride is gonna be legendary! This puts the Haunted Ride on the map! My posse is gonna to be all over this. We’re gonna make this place our home!”
It wasn’t exactly what I’d been hoping for, but at least someone was enthusiastic about Charleneland, in spite of the tragedy that had occurred. Sebastiane’s ghoulish delight struck me as highly insensitive and inappropriate, but then again, she appeared to be part of the crowd that is into death and destruction. I just hoped the Haunted Ride wouldn’t turn into some kind of gathering place for all kinds of freaks and thugs.
We left Sebastiane and Blane shook his head. “There sure are some weird people in this world.”
“You can say that again. And we didn’t even learn anything from her.”
“It stands to reason that when you’re strapped into a ride like that, going through a haunted house at a nice clip, you don’t pay attention to what’s going on behind you. Maybe we’ll have better luck with the others.”
“So you think she was telling the truth?”
“I think she was incapable of not telling the truth. As if she was on some kind of truth serum.”
“Yeah, she did seem like the kind of person who has no filter.”
“No filter whatsoever
. Yeah, I don’t think she’s our girl.”
I didn’t think so either. And if Sebastiane wasn’t lying, neither was Sophronia, since she was seated right in front of her, and she would have noticed if she was crawling out of her seat to go and murder Mrs. Reckitt.”
“When do you want to interview the others?” I asked.
“Let’s save it for later. I think I should probably meet with Charlene first.”
“Oh, right. She’s a suspect, too.”
“Not really. I don’t believe a word this Phoenix woman says. But I have to organize the press conference, so I need to sit down with Charlene.”
“I’ll come with you, shall I?”
“Please do. I have to admit that Charlene scares the crap out of me.”
I laughed at his admission, delivered with such endearing candor.
“She has that effect on a lot of people.”
“I’ll bet she does.”
Luitpold had joined us. “So? How did it go?”
“We struck out twice,” I told him. “So far we still have no clue what happened.”
He gave me a grim-faced look. “You want me to keep them here?”
“Actually, yes,” said Blane. “As long as we don’t know who’s responsible for Mrs. Reckitt’s murder, I would like to keep all of them on the premises.”
“They only have a day ticket,” I reminded him.
“Can’t you put them up at the hotel?”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Luitpold said. “Though I’m not sure they’ll like it.” He darted a look into interview room number one. “Especially that one. She scares the crap out of me. Called me a rent-a-cop Big Brother wannabe. Whatever that is.”
I grinned. “Yes, she’s something else, all right.”
“Assign them both a room at the Sapsucker Lodge and keep an eye on them,” Blane said. “And do the same for the others.”
“Will do,” said Luitpold.
“We can’t really keep them here,” I told Blane. “Unless you want to place them under arrest?”
“If they protest I will place them under arrest,” said Blane. “I’m not letting them out of my sight until we’ve caught our killer.”
We both stared into the room at Sophronia Hucklebridge. Blane was right. Unless my suicide theory was correct, one of the people on that ride was a cold-blooded killer, and until we were sure who, they were all suspects.