Deadly Ride

by Nic Saint

  “Invaluable,” I said. “I like the sound of that.”

  “Well, it’s true. You know the lay of the land and all the players. I don’t. Which makes you invaluable to this assignment.”

  For a moment I thought he was going to say I was invaluable to him. Silly, of course, but I still felt all warm and fuzzy inside.

  “So what’s going to happen to Charlene and Phoenix?” he asked.

  “I’m sure that’ll sort itself out. They’ve been filing lawsuits against each other for years. I would have thought Charlene was used to it by now.”

  “What happened with the previous ones?”

  “They all fizzled out. Got settled out of court once the divas settled down. It surprises me there are still lawyers out there that are prepared to go through the whole charade, knowing full well they’ll never have their day in court.”

  “They still get paid, right?”

  “I guess so.”

  “Well, there’s your answer. Lawyers love litigious clients.”

  “Then they’ll definitely love Charlene and Phoenix.”

  “And since the two ladies love attention, they’re happy, too. So, everyone wins.”

  “Except the rest of us, who have to endure weeks of drama, not to mention paying for the lawyers.”

  “Maybe you should just lock the two of them together in one room and not allow them to come out until they’ve made peace with one another.”

  I laughed. “Good luck with that!”

  “Just a suggestion.”

  “Yeah, well, it’ll never work. Where’s the fun in getting along?”

  We’d arrived at the hotel. It was the spitting image of the house my family occupied, only a lot bigger and more modern. It looked like a gigantic Swiss chalet, and each time I saw it I fully expected a bunch of people to come strolling out, dressed in ski outfits, pairs of skis casually slung across their shoulders.

  We entered the hotel and the girl behind the desk smiled when she saw me. “The visitors are expecting you, Miss Rugg. Mr. Dom Mathie is in room eleven. Mr. Johann Warrilow in room twenty-three.”

  “Thanks, Anja,” I said, tapping the desk. But I’d lost her attention. She was staring at Blane, spiriting the most radiant smile onto her face.

  “Follow me,” I told Blane, who gave the smitten receptionist a warm smile. “Do you have to do that?” I asked when we were out of earshot.

  “Do what?”

  “Flirt with the help?”

  He seemed taken aback. “Flirt with the help? Oh, you mean the receptionist? I wasn’t flirting. I was just being nice.”

  “Being nice doesn’t mean grinning like an ape,” I said before I could stop myself. I sounded like a jealous wife now, I realized. Great going, Mia.

  He gave me a grin. “You sound like a jealous wife, Mia.”

  “Gah. Let’s just get this over with.”

  “Am I missing something?” he asked as I led him down a corridor that led off the lobby. “First this whole dibs thing Marisa was talking about yesterday, then this morning the captain told me a picture of me had appeared on Maya’s Instagram, calling me Hot Cop? A colleague had printed it out and tacked it to the precinct bulletin board. Everybody had a big laugh about it.”

  “Nothing is going on,” I said with a scowl. “Just my sisters being their usual annoying selves. And if you didn’t want your picture to appear on Maya’s feed you shouldn’t have posed for it.”

  His grin widened. “I think I see what’s going on here.”

  “Like I said, nothing is going on. Now are we doing this or not?”

  “I think your sisters have a crush on me,” he said. “Both of them. Or…” He gave me a pointed look. “Maybe all three of them?”

  Color rose up my cheeks, totally giving me away. “I don’t have a crush on you. I don’t,” I insisted when he cocked his head.

  “I’m a detective, Mia. You can’t fool me. You have a crush on me, don’t you?”

  “No, I don’t. I think you’re a pretty lousy detective if you think that.”

  “And I think you’re lying,” he said. “There’s no shame in admitting it. You’re a gorgeous young woman. I’m a handsome young man. It’s only natural that there would be a certain attraction between us. A chemistry, if you will.”

  “There is no chemistry. There is no attraction. Wait, did you just call me gorgeous?”

  “Yes, I did. See? I’m not ashamed to admit that I like you.”

  “You… like me? But you don’t even know me.”

  “I’m a detective. I only need one look to know a person.”

  “That’s rubbish.”

  “That’s training. I know you’re warm-hearted person who deeply cares about her family. You’re passionate about your job. You’re smart. You’re tenacious. You’ve got a great sense of humor. And you’re beautiful. What’s not to like. I like you. There, I said it again.”

  “Well, I don’t like you, Blane Jamison. I think you’re arrogant.”

  He laughed. “I think you’re mistaking self-confidence with arrogance. I’m a good cop.”

  “A good cop who got sidelined by a rapper named May-B.”

  “That was an unfortunate bump in the road,” he admitted. “But I’ve got my career back on track, and hey, if I hadn’t been sidelined, as you call it, we would never have met. And we would never have been able to explore this sexual tension that’s growing between us.”

  “Wow!” I cried. “Hold on! Who said anything about sexual tension?”

  “I did. Just now. Sexual tension. That’s us in a nutshell.”

  I held up my hand, like a traffic cop. “Cool it, buster. We may be a great team, but that’s as far as this little partnership of our is going. There is no chemistry or sexual tension between us, you understand? None whatsoever. Zip.”

  “If you say so,” he said, his eyes sparkling.

  “I am saying so. I just said so.”

  We’d reached the end of the corridor, and I noticed one of the lights was out. Dang. I’d have to report this to the desk. Just then Blane scooped me up and pressed me into his arms, then touched his lips to mine for a sweet and tender kiss. When I came up for air I heard bells ringing and angels singing.

  “So?” he asked when I stood blinking at him, trying to get him into focus.

  “Mh?” I asked, very eloquently.

  “So was that as good for you as it was for me?”

  I shook my head decidedly. “Nope. Wasn’t good at all. Not for me. On a scale of one to ten definitely a zero.”

  He looked disappointed. “Not a great kiss?”

  “Lousy kiss. I had better kisses in grade school.”

  He moved in. “Let me try again. I know I can do better.”

  I know I should have warded him off. After all, this time he’d given me advance notice. But I figured why not give him another shot? If the second one was as earth-shattering as the first one, maybe we were onto something here.

  This time there was some tongue involved, and a lot of wet, and even a little bit of groping, on both sides, I might add. When I came up for air the second time, there was that angel choir again, and water rushing nearby—possibly from a Swiss brook—and a definite weakness near the knees.

  “That was great, huh?” he asked, a smirk on his face. “Tell me that was great.”

  “That… wasn’t bad,” I admitted, adjusting my blouse and wondering when my top three buttons had come undone.

  “Not bad?!” he exclaimed with a laugh. “That was like Fourth of July fireworks!”

  “For you, maybe,” I pointed out. “For me that was just an okay kiss.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Well, then I’ll just have to keep practicing, won’t I?”

  Before he could scoop me up again, I knocked on the door of room number eleven, and when a loud voice yelled, “Come in!” I did just that.

  Chapter 19

  Dom Mathie was a septuagenarian who looked his age. The few strands of hair that hadn’t succum
bed to attrition were wispy and white, and his face seemed to consist of a million wrinkles. The first thing I thought when I saw him was that he was too old to go on haunted rides or roller coasters or any of that high-velocity stuff. And that was exactly what I told him.

  He laughed. “I know! My wife used to tell me the same thing. But when she died last year, on her death bed she made me promise to find happiness in small things, even without her, so I decided to come to Charleneland.”

  We were seated in the small but cozy salon, with a view of the roller coasters of Charleneland dominating the skyline.

  “Charleneland was where we went for our honeymoon, you see,” Dom continued. “Though it wasn’t called Charleneland at the time, of course. It was called Enchanted Land back in the day, and was basically a few cabins in the woods and some guided tours to explore the abundant natural resources of the area. So after that, we came back here every decade. The last time we were here, ten years ago yesterday, we took the Haunted Ride.” His rheumy eyes drifted off to the park beyond the window. “So I came back to do the ride again. In her honor, you see.”

  “Of course,” I said. “I’m sure your wife would have wanted you to come back.”

  “She did. Though I doubt whether I’ll make it for our next anniversary. I’m seventy-eight, and my health isn’t what it used to be.”

  I could see that this man would have had a very hard time getting out of his seat, clambering over to where Mrs. Reckitt was sitting, unfastening her restraint, and then clambering back to his own seat again. It seemed unfeasible.

  Blane placed the still from the security footage in front of the old man and pointed his finger at where he was sitting. The row directly in front of the voice doctor. “This is you, right, Mr. Mathie?”

  The man placed his glasses on his nose and studied the picture carefully. “Oh, my. Is this one of those snapshots you sell? My wife bought one once, but it was much better than this one. I can’t even make out my face.” He handed it back and gave Blane a toothy smile. “You’ll have to do better to get my money, son. I’m on a pension, remember.”

  “This is not one of the pictures we take to sell to the visitors,” I explained. “This is from our security cameras. Is that you in the picture, sir?”

  He frowned and picked up the picture again. “Well, like I said, it’s very hard to make out my face on this one, but yes, I believe this is me.”

  “You were seated in the last row but one?”

  “I wanted to sit in the last row. It was where my wife and I used to sit. But this woman beat me to it, and when I asked her to move, she said she wouldn’t. So I took the one in front of her. I didn’t think it was very nice of her.”

  “This is the woman who died, sir,” Blane said. “She fell from the ride.”

  The man’s hand went to his face. “Oh, that’s terrible. She didn’t strap herself in or what?”

  “We believe the harness was released,” said Blane.

  “But how is that possible?”

  “Either she did it herself, or… someone else did,” I said.

  “Oh, my, what an awful thing to do. You mean she was suicidal? No wonder she wanted to sit in the last row. She didn’t want anyone else to see her jump!”

  “Did you notice anyone switching seats during the ride?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “I don’t think so. There was some commotion at some point, but it was entirely too dark to see.”

  “Commotion?” Blane asked. He shared a quick look with me. It was the second time someone had mentioned something about a commotion. Sebastiane had also said she’d noticed something going on behind her.

  “Yes, there was some shuffling going on. Someone bumped into me at some point. I just figured it was the person in front of me swinging his arms. They always do that, you know. For some reason they want to swing their arms when they’re going down one of those steep inclines. And yell! All that yelling!”

  We both stared at the picture, Blane and I. The person sitting in front of Dom was Morrison Burlet, a teenager from Oregon.

  “So… let me get this straight,” Blane said. “The person in front of you bumped into you?”

  “Bumped or brushed. He hit me in the shoulder, that’s for sure. Not a powerful hit, mind you. Just a minor bump. Like I said, these teenagers all have long arms, and they like to wave them around like crazy.” He sighed. “I know I made a promise to my wife to do this every decade, but I swear to God, if I’m still alive in ten years, I think I’m going to skip the Haunted Ride. It’s more than my old ticker can bear.”

  Blane flipped open his notebook. “I saw that you spent one night in jail a couple of years ago, Mr. Mathie. Is that correct?”

  “Yes, that is correct, Detective. Why? Are you going to arrest me? I served my time. I spent ten hours in the county pen, and for what? Just because I had a few drinks. Show me a man who has never been drunk and I’ll show you a sissy. I’ll bet even you once had one over the eight, haven’t you?”

  “Well, yes, I have, but I wasn’t driving at the time,” Blane said dryly.

  “Yes, that was my mistake. My wife told me not to get behind the wheel. I told her it was fine. I was feeling swell. High as a kite.” He laughed a hacking laugh, which quickly turned into a coughing fit. When it finally subsided, he said, “Look, like I said, I served my time. I paid the fine. Enough said. Now are we done? I feel like I’m on trial here.”

  “Yes, Mr. Mathie,” I said when Blane gave me a nod. “You’re free to go. But don’t leave Charleneland. We still might have a few questions for you.”

  “Sure, sure. I’m not going anywhere. I like it here. You tell Charlene she’s built herself a really neat park, you hear?”

  “I will, sir,” I said.

  “Are you related to Charlene, by any chance?”

  “Yes, I’m her granddaughter.”

  The man’s face creased into a wrinkly smile. “You look like her. Without the big hair and the big…” His eyes dropped to my very modest cleavage. “… you know what. She’s a nice gal, Charlene. She once gave me a kiss, you know.” He chortled. “My wife had a fit when she did. Just a kiss on the cheek, mind you, but still. One of the highlights of my life. Being kissed by a young gal like that.”

  To hear herself being described as a ‘young gal’ would have given Charlene a thrill, I thought as we said goodbye to Dom Mathie and took our leave.

  “And? What do you think?” Blane said when we closed the door behind us and were back in the corridor.

  “I think he’s innocent. I can’t see him crawling over seats and messing around with harnesses.”

  “I agree. I don’t think he did it. But he did give us a very important clue.” He tapped the picture he was holding in his hand. “I think we should have a talk with Morrison Burlet.”

  “We’ll see him this afternoon. He’s in the park right now.”

  “Is that such a good idea, you think?”

  “Luitpold is keeping an eye on him and Anscom Rider. They’re not getting away, Blane.”

  “No, they most certainly are not,” he said, grim-faced.

  Chapter 20

  Our next interviewee, Johann Warrilow, was a corporate attorney and, like Mr. Mathie, had come down to Charleneland to chase a dream.

  He smiled as he looked at the picture of himself sitting in the ride, just before takeoff. “I didn’t even know you guys still took these pictures. I figured since you didn’t sell them anymore you stopped taking them altogether.”

  “This is from our security camera,” I explained. “They’re not for sale.”

  “Oh, right, of course,” he said, handing back the picture.

  He was a thickset man in his early forties with an easy smile and a lot of wrinkles around his eyes. His chubby cheeks and his prominent teeth gave him the look of a happy chipmunk.

  “I hope you don’t mind my saying so, Mr. Warrilow, but you don’t look like a corporate attorney,” I said.

  He laughed. “Oh? An
d what does a corporate attorney look like?”

  “I don’t know. Dead eyes, sallow skin, an absolute lack of humor.”

  “Well, I don’t know about my colleagues, but I love a good laugh,” he said. “Life is tough enough as it is, so why not have some fun in the process?”

  “You came here by yourself?” Blane asked.

  “That’s right. I love amusement parks. I’ve done all of them, several times. I guess you could call it a hobby of mine. And not just here in the state either. I’ve traveled the entire country, and even other countries.” He shrugged. “Other people love to go on a cruise—I love to visit theme parks.”

  “And what does your wife think about that?” I asked.

  His smile widened. “She’s very tolerant, which is probably one of the reasons we’re still together after fifteen years. We do take vacations together, of course, and then we favor the kinds of places she loves. She’s an amateur diver, so we usually visit holiday destinations near the water.”

  “What can you tell us about what happened yesterday?” Blane asked.

  “Not much. I mean, the ride was smooth. No problems whatsoever. I heard about what happened later, and I have to admit I don’t remember the woman, like, at all. But then you rarely pay attention to the other visitors. I don’t.”

  “So you didn’t notice any… commotion?” I asked.

  He pursed his lips. “Can’t say that I did. Of course I was more focused on the ride than its passengers. The ghouls, the spiders in the Pit of Doom. Nicely rendered,” he said. “Some great work. So no, I didn’t notice anything. I’m sorry, Detective. I wish I could do more to help you.”

  Blane stared at the picture. “The man who sat behind you…Morrison Burlet…”

  “Yes?”

  “You didn’t notice that he got out of his seat in the middle of the ride?”

  Johann barked an incredulous laugh. “That’s incredibly dangerous.” Then, as understanding dawned, his excitement grew. “You mean… you think this woman was murdered? Man, that’s… that’s some accusation.”

  “Well, we’re not entirely certain,” said Blane, “but that’s one of the assumptions we’re going on. That and the possibility of suicide.”