After Dark (14 page)

“I feel great,” he said. “Although, if I don't get a cup of coffee before the morning service, I'm going to get seriously cranky.”

“After what we just went through, a coffee would hit the spot,” Mom said.

“Try the Frog Brothers Café,” he said, starting up the moped. “They make the best cup of coffee in town. And stop in for our service at ten, if you get a chance,” he added, lowering the visor and zipping away.

“What's with all the questions, Charlie?” Mom asked, getting into the truck.

“It just seems like there's a lot of people saying they're under the weather in this town,” I said, getting in, too.

“Have you considered the possibility that they might just have colds? People get colds, you know, and they tend to be contagious.”

“And it seems like a lot of people are walking around with sunglasses on.”

“A lot of people wear sunglasses in the summer. You are aware of the existence of UV rays, right?” she added, starting down Oak Avenue again. “They're the invisible rays that turned your skin such a lovely shade of red yesterday.”

“Yes, I'm familiar with UV rays, but people around here are behaving like robots, too. I mean, Mr. and Mrs. Crackly Voice weren't exactly social.”

“Oh, wow — two seniors, living on their own, didn't skip out to meet the people who ran over their dog first thing on a Sunday morning. That
is
weird, Charlie. We should call the Welcome Wagon Police.”

“And people wonder why I'm so sarcastic,” I said, as we turned off of Oak and onto Church Street. The street was empty except for Takahashi, who was a few blocks up, parking his moped in front of the Frog Brothers Café.

“I think a little sarcasm is in order,” she said, pulling up in front of Romero's. “I mean, is there a point in all of this, Charlie?”

“Look, I know this sounds crazy — I've questioned it myself — but Mr. Baxter, his wife and their giant friend chased us down the street last night. And his friend caught me and hoisted me up — with one hand, I might add — and then he tried to bite me. I got a good look in his mouth, Ma, believe me, and he had sharp teeth. They were like needles. I know that sounds insane, but I also know what I saw.”

“Did you go to the Voodoo Juice Bar last night?” she asked, getting out of the truck. “I think we need to find out what goes into those drinks.”

“They were running thirty-five miles an hour,” I added.

“
Miles Van Helsing
said they were running thirty-five miles an hour, and he's the town conspiracy crackpot, according to Sheriff Dutton,” she said, heading down the street. “Plus, you said yourself that you haven't slept much recently, besides the day before yesterday in the truck, and you might have had heatstroke from that burn you've got. You're tired, Charlie. You're probably not thinking straight. The pharmacy is this way.”

“I admit it was dark, and I was keyed up, but you can't tell me something weird didn't go down on Oak Avenue last night.”

“Sheriff Dutton said that the kids around here were going a little crazy now that school is finished for the year. Maybe the situation is a little more serious than anyone's willing to admit. Sometimes folks in a small town can hide their secrets, especially from the new family in town.”

“Or maybe there are monsters running around attacking people in the night?”

“You've got to quit with this, Charlie. I know you don't like living here, but we're not leaving. This is where we're going to live from now on, come hell or high water, good neighbors or bad neighbors. Do you understand?”

“Home sweet home,” I mumbled, stopping in front of the pharmacy.

Mom pulled on the door, but it was locked. “I should have known it would be closed.”

“The sign says it opens at one on Sundays,” I said, scratching some of the bites on my neck.

“We'll have to come back this afternoon,” she said. “We're here now, though, so let's grab something to eat at Romero's.”

“What about the Frog Brothers Café?”

“The coffee at Romero's is good enough for me,” she said, and we headed back down the street. “Will your arms survive the wait?”

“I guess they're going to have to,” I said and tried to resist scratching them again. I couldn't.

Sunday, 8:45 a.m.

Mabel met us at the door, holding a pot full of coffee and smacking her gum.

“How are you folks doing today?” she asked.

“Fine, Mabel,” Mom said, as we made our way to the front counter. Although, we certainly didn't need to take a seat at the front, we could have sat anywhere; the place was practically empty. There were only two other customers, an older couple sitting in one of the booths at the back. They smiled and nodded at us as we walked in, and I noticed they weren't wearing sunglasses.

“Is it usually this quiet on a Sunday morning?” Mom asked.

“No,” Mabel said, pouring us each a cup of coffee. “It's usually just as busy as a Saturday morning. Something's going around. I never catch a cold, myself. Been working here for forty years and haven't missed a day.”

Mom gave me a look that said I shouldn't start asking questions, so I let it drop.

“That's got to be some kind of record,” I said.

“I take care of myself,” she said. “For instance, I like to give myself a few sprays of mosquito repellant before I go out at night. The skeeters around here will eat you alive.”

“That's a solid tip, Mabel,” I said, scratching my neck some more. “I'll try to remember that.”

“You should put something on those bites or you're going to scratch the skin right off your bones.”

“The pharmacy doesn't open until one o'clock,” Mom said.

“I think we've got some calamine lotion in the back,” she said. “That'll take the edge off so you can enjoy your breakfast.”

“Mabel, if you could take the edge off these bites, I'll work here for free for a whole week, just so you can take that overdue vacation.”

“Don't make promises you can't keep, sonny,” she said. “I might hold you to it.”

“Hold me to it, Mabel, please. Just bring me that lotion.”

Mabel smiled and went into the kitchen. She was back thirty seconds later with a half-used bottle of calamine lotion.

“So, when are you ready to start work?” she asked.

“Anytime,” I said, slathering the lotion onto my arms.

“You know what, kid? I'll forget about your promise if you'll do me a favor.”

“Anything for you, Mabel.”

“Get a new shirt, that one's a goner.”

“The first chance I get, I'm going to buy a spiffy new shirt, just for you.”

“Actually, I've got one you can put on right now,” she said, reaching under the counter. “Rolling Hills celebrated its hundredth anniversary a few years back, and the mayor at the time thought that making about ten thousand of these was a good idea.”

She smirked and tossed me a white T-shirt. I unfolded it.
I
h
Rolling Hills
was scrawled across the front.

“Rolling Hills has certainly impacted my life,” I said, “but I don't think I can wear this, Mabel.”

“Hand over the lotion,” she said, grinning.

“You drive a hard bargain,” I said. “Perhaps you'd be so kind as to point me in the direction of the lavatory, so I can change in privacy.”

Mabel's grin got a little wider, and she pointed the way.

Sunday, 8:55 a.m.

I put on the T-shirt and slathered more calamine lotion onto my arms, which did wonders for the burning itch, but it made my arms look like I'd tried to paint them white.

“Will it soak in?” I asked Mabel, coming back to the counter.

“Afraid not,” she said, “but the T-shirt looks smart on you.”

“You're too kind,” I said, sitting down. She
was
being too kind — that, or she liked her clothes loose and billowy, because she'd given me an XXL, which was at least two sizes too big. I didn't have the heart to ask for another, though, especially since I was planning on changing out of it as soon as we got back to the inn.

The service was fast, the food was good, and while we ate, I mulled things over.

“Did you notice most of the mess on Oak Avenue was cleaned up while we were talking to Dr. Creed?” I asked as we finished up our breakfast.

“They backed up a couple of cars,” Mom said, shrugging. “I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation.” She laid some cash down on the counter. “Let's go.”

Mabel was pouring coffee for the couple in the back as we headed for the door.

“Thanks for the lotion,” I called.

“See you later,” Mabel said. “And put on some sunscreen, sonny.”

“You got it,” I said as we stepped outside. The day was already starting to heat up.

“Time to get back to work,” Mom said.

“I'm going to grab a drink at the Voodoo first,” I said. I wanted to pick Dr. Vortex's brain about all this, especially about that note he'd slipped me last night. “I'll meet you back at the inn.”

“Not today, kiddo. I need you to mow the lawn, and I think those smoothies are turning your brain to mush.”

“But my burn, and all these bites — don't you think I should stay inside and get some rest?”

“There's no rest for the wicked, Charlie. Now come on.”

We were just about to get into the truck when Elizabeth zoomed down Church Street in her Porsche and pulled over to the curb.

“Wow, Charlie,” she said, pointing at my T-shirt, “I didn't know you liked living in Rolling Hills so much.”

“Sure, Winehurst, spending the summer in Rolling Hills doing manual labor has been on the top of my to-do list for years.”

She rolled her eyes and turned to Mom. “How are the renovations coming along, Ms. Autumn?”

“Slowly,” Mom said, “which is why we have to get going.”

“What, no time to flirt with the prettiest girl in town?” I said. “How in the devil am I supposed to compete with Johnny?”

“How about dinner tonight at The Opal?” Elizabeth said. “Everyone's invited.”

“Your dad is feeling better?” I asked.

“Yeah, a little, but he's still not quite himself. What do you say, Ms. Autumn, dinner tonight at seven?”

“Sounds nice,” Mom said. “I need a break from takeout.”

“Great! See you then,” Elizabeth said. She slipped back into her car and pulled away.

“Announcing that you're flirting with a girl might not be the best way to win her heart, Charlie,” Mom said, getting into the truck.

“I think I've been beaten to her heart already,” I said.

“You never know how things are going to turn out,” she said and started up the truck.

“Let's just hit the road. I want to mow that lawn before it gets too hot.”

Sunday, 10:00 a.m.

Jake's red pickup was parked beside the inn, and he was sitting on the porch's front steps. His four-man work crew was with him, but they weren't sitting on the steps, they were all standing back in the shade of the porch, and they were all wearing sunglasses. I had a flashback of those guys at the Voodoo last night, standing along the wall.

“Sorry we're late,” Mom called, getting out of the truck.

“No problem, but I've got bad news, Claire,” Jake said, taking his ball cap off and wiping the sweat off his forehead. “The plumber's not returning any of my calls, so we won't be able to fix the water problems today. If he can't come tomorrow, I'll get someone from out of town.”

“We'll get started on the main floor, then,” Mom said.

“That's what I was thinking,” Jake replied.

“Charlie, there's a mower in the garage out back. It's filled up and ready to go. Get cracking on the lawn, but put on some sunscreen first. There's some SPF 40 on the kitchen table.”

Jake's men stared out at me with blank, wooden faces.

“Mixing sunscreen and calamine lotion might be bad for my skin, Ma. I think I should stay inside and help you guys out,” I said.

“You'll be fine,” Mom said, heading for the front door. All of Jake's men turned their heads in unison and watched her climb onto the porch.

“I'm much better at interior design than yard work,” I said, hustling onto the porch, too. Jake's men all turned back to me. I don't know if it was my heightened state of paranoia, but when they did that I felt something inside my head. It was as if tiny snakes were slithering through my brain.

“Nice try,” Mom said, blocking my way in. “Go mow the lawn.”

Jake's crew started crowding around us as they moved toward the door. They were big, burly guys who could easily overpower the three of us if they wanted to.

“I'll just grab the sunscreen,” I said, tensing up.

“Fine,” Mom said, and we all started inside — Mom, Jake and then me, followed by the Brawny Bunch. The last one in closed the door, shutting out the sunlight. I braced myself for an ambush, but nothing happened. They just stood like a pack of beefy robots in the foyer.

“Well, go get the sunscreen,” Mom said, motioning toward the kitchen. “I've got things to go over with Jake.”

“Right,” I said, trying to think of some clever stalling tactic so that I could search the house for Johnny and Lilith.

“Well, go!” she barked, pointing at the kitchen.

No clever stalling tactic came to mind. I wasn't used to that — I'd been coming up with clever stalling tactics all my life, but I was too highly strung for the conniving part of my brain to function.

Mom sighed impatiently and marched into the kitchen. I stood there in the foyer with Jake and his crew, who were all looming around me, staring.

“Quit staring at the kid,” Jake snapped. “Jeez, you guys are acting weird today.”