by Elise Sax
“Get down here!” Adam shouted.
“Love! Fairness!” the man yelled back.
“We don’t have time for this!” Wendy yelled up to him. The man stuck his butt off the edge, giving us a good view.
“Is it my imagination, or is Goodnight weirder than usual?” Adele asked me.
“I’ve been too distracted to notice,” I said. It had been a hell of a day. It was only the early afternoon, but it felt like my conversation with Amy had happened weeks ago. I was a wreck. My emotional exhaustion was weighing on me physically.
“You look like you could use a cup of coffee,” Adele said.
“A big one,” I agreed.
We walked back to the diner. It was empty except for a young woman at one table, and a young man at another table. Adele sat me at the back again in case Boone was still looking for me. I couldn’t hold him off for much longer. It was hard to hide from a man I lived with. But I wasn’t any closer to clearing his name. Yes, now I suspected his brother, too, but that didn’t get me much further.
Adele handed me a cup of coffee and a bowl of apple crumble before she moved on to serve the pretty young girl. “Oh, so much food,” the girl gushed when Adele put the plate of food in front of her. “Four pieces of fried chicken and so much mashed potatoes.” The girl flipped her long blonde hair and smiled at everyone in the diner, as if she was shocked that anyone could eat so much. I could have eaten twice as much on any given day. The young man at the other table winked at her and showed her his plate. He had two pieces of fried chicken and only half as much mashed potatoes.
Adele rolled her eyes and marched back to the kitchen. “Morris, get with the program,” I heard her tell him. “You’ve got the portions all messed up.”
I looked down at my apple crumble. It was delicious, but it wasn’t four pieces of fried chicken. I decided then and there to have fried chicken for dinner. If I picked up supplies on my way home, I was sure that Tilly would cook for me. It was the first good plan I had had for a while.
On the downside, Boone was sure to see me tonight at the house, and what was I going to say to him? I had no idea. I felt like I was driving full-on into a brick wall dead end. I spooned a large bite of crumble into my mouth and washed it down with coffee.
Just as I swallowed, the diner door opened, and two men and a woman entered. One man was carrying a large video camera on his shoulder, and the other man was carrying a long pole with a microphone at the end of it. The woman was wearing a power suit, three-inch heels, and a large purse.
“What the hell?” Adele said.
“What’s going on?” the pretty young girl asked with a mouthful of fried chicken.
“Rolling!” the man with the camera announced. The door opened again, and Rocco and Mabel walked in holding hands. They had crazy, wide smiles planted on their faces, and they stared directly into the camera. Both of them were wearing at least an inch of pancake makeup, and I could have sworn that Rocco was wearing purple eye contacts.
“Everyone stay natural,” the woman ordered. “You are all now part of a reality show, starring Rocco and Mabel. And… action!”
“I’m so hungry,” Rocco announced, sounding more like a robot than a man. “I wonder what the diner has for dinner.”
“You come here every day, Rocco,” Adele chastised him. “You know the menu by heart. You either get the chicken fried steak, liver and onions, or the grilled cheese, most nights.”
Rocco stomped his foot and turned to the woman, who I assumed was the director. “Damn it, Adele. Now we have to do that take all over again. I’ll never get my dinner. We’ve been redoing takes all day.”
“Don’t worry about her. Action!” the director yelled, and Rocco planted his phony smile back on his face.
“I think I’ll have the chef salad,” Mabel said brightly in the same wooden way that Rocco had been speaking. “I only eat healthy. My body’s a temple.” She looked directly into the camera when she said “temple.” I had seen Mabel eat a deep-fried Twinkie once, so I wasn’t too sure she was telling the truth about her temple body.
“Darling, look who it is,” Rocco sing-songed and pointed at me. “It’s our dear friend Matilda Dare, local entrepreneur and owner of a historical home.”
“Matilda!” Mabel gushed, practically dancing toward my table, as if she was happy to see me after years away, instead of just this morning when she had threatened me.
The camera turned on me, and the guy with the pole positioned the microphone so that it hovered over my head. The camera had a bright light attached to it, and I shielded my eyes with my hand.
“My darling best friend,” Mabel sang, as if she was the lead soprano for a Wagner opera. She took my hand and covered it with both of hers. She batted her eyelashes at me, which I realized were fake.
My mouth had dropped open, and I couldn’t speak. I was in too much shock to utter a word. I felt disoriented, like top was bottom and left was right and Mabel and Rocco had turned into different people, just like a scene out of Invasion of the Body Snatchers. At least I hoped it was aliens. Otherwise, I was witnessing a complete psychotic break. Not that I was great friends with Mabel and Rocco. In fact, I was pretty much the opposite. But I hated to see the downfall of two people, no matter how much they made my life miserable.
“How are you doing, my best friend?” Mabel prompted with her phony smile and a slight tilt of her head toward the camera. I caught on. She was asking me to play to the camera.
“I am just fine, best friend,” I said, my voice coming out in a squeak. I remembered to plant a phony smile on my face and looked directly at the camera, blinking furiously against the bright light.
“I’m so happy we found you here,” Rocco told me, still using his robot voice.
“Me too?” I said like a question. I braced myself for whatever they were going to throw at me. At least we had visual proof if they were going to do me bodily harm for getting engaged at the same time they did.
“Yes!” Mabel gushed. “I wanted to ask you to be my maid of honor in front of everyone!” She gestured with an outstretched arm, as if I had won a refrigerator on The Price is Right.
“Maid of honor,” I repeated. “You want me to be your maid of honor?”
“Of course I do,” she said, punching me hard on my upper arm. “You’re my best friend, aren’t you?” She leaned in close like she was going to kiss me, but she whispered in my ear, instead. “Ham it up, will you? Pretend you’re thrilled. If you play along, I’ll buy new computers for the Gazette.”
Oh, boy. We needed new computers at the Gazette. Ours were built in the Dark Ages. They used floppy disks.
“What’s with the reality show?” I whispered back at her.
“They’re following us for the wedding. It’s going to put Goodnight on the map. It’s free advertising. Go along with it, or I’ll run you over with my car.”
Rocco and Mabel were constantly trying to find ways to put Goodnight on the map. We were a tiny town in the middle of nowhere, and the last time we were put on the map it was because we had hanged a giraffe. So, I guessed a reality show wasn’t too bad. Besides, I wanted new computers, and I definitely didn’t want to be run over by a car.
“Best friend! Of course I would be honored to be your maid of honor!” I sang, jumping up from my seat. I gave Mabel a bear hug and covered her cheek in little kisses. I could feel her flinch under my embrace. Mabel wasn’t a touchy-feely kind of woman. She was more like a Sherman tank than an effusive, feminine gal. “Do you hear that, townspeople? I’m going to be Mabel’s maid of honor! I’m so happy!”
I could practically feel the camera come in for a close up on my overjoyed face. “And yes, I would be happy to pick out my own dress,” I added, looking into the camera. “I know how busy Mabel is with the other wedding plans.”
If I had to be maid of honor, at least I wouldn’t have to wear a floor-length, taffeta nightmare. Now I could pick out my own dress.
“You’re a wonderful woman. The citiz
ens of Goodnight are the most loving and welcoming in the country,” Rocco announced, staring at the camera.
Sheesh. This was torture.
Adele stood nearby with her arms folded. She was taking deep breaths in through her nose, and she looked like she was going to bludgeon Rocco and Mabel to death with the camera. Luckily, they moved on from me, and I was allowed to sit back down and eat the rest of my crumble.
“This is our charming bistro,” Mabel said, floating around and gesturing toward the Formica tables and vinyl-covered booths. “Have you ever seen anything so charming?”
“The fried chicken is good, and the portions ample,” the pretty blonde girl said into the camera.
“Who the hell are you?” Mabel demanded, returning to her normal self for a brief moment before going back to her pod self with the phony smile. The fake eyelashes on one of her eyes were sticking together, making her look like she was either very flirtatious or a pirate. “You must be one of our thousands of tourists. Welcome, sweet young tourist. You see, America? Goodnight is a beacon to hipsters. That’s the word, right? Hipsters?”
“I’m not a hipster,” the girl said.
“Oh, yes you are,” Rocco yelled at her.
Things were going downhill fast. I couldn’t imagine this reality show airing anywhere. The cameraman rolled his eyes, and the sound guy was checking his phone.
The door opened, and two people came in. They were wearing long necklaces made of garlic bulbs. One of them was crossing himself, and the other was brandishing a large crucifix, like it was a weapon.
“Begone! Begone!” the guy with the crucifix yelled.
Sensing a good storyline, the reality show crew jumped in excitement and moved their filming to the garlic-wearing men.
“We’re filming here!” Mabel complained.
“Begone!” the man yelled back at her. “We’re cleaning the town out of ghosts.” He looked directly at the camera and cleared his throat. “Goodnight is afflicted with some thieving ghosts. It’s been hell. That’s why we’re wearing garlic.”
“And Simon Fowler is bringing holy water,” the other man added. “Hopefully that’ll do the trick. But these ghosts are real bad, so it’s fifty-fifty if the holy water will work. Goodnight is seriously haunted.”
Mabel grabbed hold of the camera and pointed it at her face. “That’s just a joke,” she giggled with one eye still closed. “There are no ghosts in Goodnight. Goodnight is a family town. It’s perfectly safe for children.”
“And for giraffes,” Rocco added. “We’re very nice to giraffes. That other thing was an aberration.”
“What other thing?” the director asked.
My phone rang, and I answered it. “Are you planning on starving me?” Tilly demanded on the other end of the line.
“I was about to call you. You want to make fried chicken tonight?” I asked her, hopefully.
“No way. I need to get out of here. Boone has been in and out, grilling me about you. So, you owe me. I hear that the new bowling alley has got Buffalo wings that are guaranteed to eat away the lining of your stomach. I want at least a couple dozen of those. And fries. And a cherry Coke. You’re buying.”
The wings sounded good, and the bowling alley was probably a good place to hide from Boone. “Fine. I’ll meet you there in five minutes,” I said and hung up.
“Are these ghosts possessing any people?” the director was asking the man with the crucifix. “Are heads spinning around? That sort of thing?”
“I got a doozy of a case of fungus on my big toenail,” the other man told her, excitedly. “You want to see it? It looks supernatural to me.”
“Sure,” the director said, and the cameraman panned down to the man’s foot.
I paid the bill and walked out through the back door. It turned out that there were more people walking around with garlic necklaces. I avoided them while I stayed on the lookout for Boone. I had gone to Amos’s house to talk about Boone, but now I felt I needed to talk to Boone about Amos. I had suspicions about both of them.
My mind was inundated with thoughts about Amos’s dead wife, Amy. Was she the first victim of the serial killer? Maybe her murder set off a chain reaction to kill other girls? I was going to have to swallow my fear and talk to both of them about the other.
But first I was going to eat chicken wings. Buffalo chicken wings would help with my courage.
Goodnight Bowling was a few blocks off of the Plaza. It was located in a renovated building, and there was a neon sign above it, which was flashing oodnight Bowl ng on it. I wondered how the sign had already gotten broken. I opened the door and walked inside. I was immediately assaulted by loud Styx music. The place was packed, despite the fact that there were only had four lanes. There wasn’t much to do in Goodnight, so a new bowling alley was a huge draw.
Tilly grabbed my arm as soon as I took a few steps inside. “There you are. My stomach’s growling. A woman my age needs to eat regular. I take eighteen pills a day. I can’t manage that without food. Dr. Oz says that can kill me.”
“What does Dr. Oz say about Buffalo chicken wings and cherry Coke?” I asked.
Tilly pursed her lips. “Dr. Oz can kiss my saggy butt. C’mon, the restaurant is this way.”
We walked across blue carpeting with pictures of planets on it to the food counter. Two teenagers were taking orders, and there were a handful of small round tables with metal chairs in the eating area.
“I’ll grab a table. You order,” Tilly instructed me. “I want the Strike portion of the hottest wings with the Spare portion of fries. And a large cherry Coke. You got that?”
I nodded and went to order our dinners. After, I took a numbered placard back to our table. “They’re going to deliver it to us,” I told her.
Tilly looked around. “This place ain’t bad. I’m a good bowler. Did you know that?”
“I don’t know how to bowl,” I confessed. “But I have a PhD in Bowling Industry Technology. I wrote my dissertation on the digitized pin recovery system.”
“What fool kind of PhD is that?”
I shrugged. “I’m a searcher.”
“What the hell does that mean?” she asked, but I didn’t answer because one of the teenagers arrived with our dinners. Tilly took a bite of a wing and licked her lips in appreciation. I took a bite, and I felt like my mouth was going to ignite into flames. I grabbed my Diet Coke and took a big swig.
That’s when I saw him.
Chapter 6
Boone was there. He was walking around the bowling alley, and he was obviously looking for me. I yelped, spitting my Coke out all over Tilly.
“Why’d you do that?” she demanded. I dropped to the floor and pulled her down next to me.
“Boone,” I hissed. “Boone’s here.”
“I’m old. You could have broken my hip.”
“I don’t think he saw me, but we have to get out of here.”
“I have your Coke backwash all over my Buffalo wings. I can’t eat them now. You owe me more Buffalo wings.”
“You can stand to lose a couple pounds,” I told her uncharitably and tugged her away from the table. We crouched down and crawled our way around the other diners and out of the eating area.
“Do you know what this is doing to my knees?” Tilly complained. “I haven’t had cartilage anywhere in my body for thirty years. I can hear my bones grind against the floor.”
“Oh my God, he’s coming this way. Hurry, let’s get behind the counter.”
I still held her hand, and I tugged her behind one of the teenagers, who was taking orders.
“You can’t hide out forever, you know. You live with the man,” Tilly pointed out, wisely.
“I’m not hiding out forever,” I said. “I have a plan.” I didn’t have a plan. I was a big, fat liar. I just didn’t want to have the Are you a serial killer? conversation with Boone while Styx was playing on the sound system.
“You don’t have a plan,” Tilly said. “What happened? Did you get a do
se of wedding jitters? I don’t blame you. Weddings are for suckers. Look at me. I’ve never been married, and I turned out just fine.
“I thought you were a widow.”
“Yes, but I was never married.”
“Holy crap, here he comes. It’s like he has radar or something. Let’s beat it out of here.”
Boone was definitely looking for me. His face was crinkled into a worried expression, and I felt guilty about ghosting him. But I felt more fearful of a confrontation with him than I felt guilty. So, I was determined to hide as long as I could.
Tilly and I crawled until we got to the side of the alley. “There’s no place to hide, and the skin on my knees has been rubbed off,” she complained, bitterly. “My bones are breaking. You’re killing me. You’re torturing a revered senior citizen. Why am I letting you do this? Grow a pair and talk to your man. Are you even listening to me?”
“No,” I said, crawling. “Let’s get to the back of the alley. We can hide out in the pin changers.”
Astonishingly, Tilly didn’t argue, and we made it to the back of the alley through a door in another couple of minutes. Once in back and out of view, I helped Tilly up. The noise of the pins getting knocked down, the machinery picking them up, and Styx still blaring through the sound system was deafening.
“You owe me a lot of wings,” she told me, wagging her finger under my nose. “A lot. Six dozen. No, an even ten dozen. How many is that? I was never good with times-twelves. You’re off the hook for the fries, though. I don’t want to be a pig. Where the hell are we?”
Tilly approached one of the pin changer machines, and I pulled her back into safety. “Be careful,” I told her. “This is the brain and guts of the bowling alley. The pin recovery system. The machinery won’t stop for fingers and toes.”
Tilly nodded, impressed with the bowling technology. “I wonder if we could set one of these up at the house to catch some ghosts. I haven’t caught a thing with the bear trap. Maybe our ghosts are cleverer than a bear. Maybe we need to throw in one of these bowling gizmos. They look like they could kneecap a ghost. Or decapitate one.”