Day 9 (4 page)

 

CHAPTER 8

 

Flight 1926, Somewhere Over New Mexico - Today

"You weren't having sex with
any
of your brothers?" Quincy, in the window seat, leaned past Dunne to talk to Hannahlee. "What about your
sisters
? Your
parents
?"

"Not that it's any of your business," said Hannahlee, "but no."

Dunne grunted and shifted in his seat. Quincy's weight was crushing his rib cage. "Get
off
me."

Quincy was oblivious. "So tell me, Lianna. Who
was
sleeping together?"

Hannahlee ignored him and looked the other way. Dunne hoped she'd keep it up; maybe then, Quincy would sit back and stop crushing him.

Instead, Quincy leaned further, pressing harder against him. "At least give me
something
to work with, here. Like, who was the biggest
perv
? Or the biggest
lush
?"

Still, Hannahlee remained silent.

Dunne wondered how much longer Quincy would keep it up. He hadn't stopped talking since getting into Dunne's car for the ride to the airport. If anything, he'd gained momentum during the first hour of the flight to Austin, Texas.

Dunne glanced over at Hannahlee, who was still staring across the aisle. She wasn't as annoyed with Quincy as Dunne was, or she would've gotten rid of him long ago...but maybe her bullshit detector would spike soon, and she'd cut the fanboy loose.

Dunne wished she'd never recruited Quincy in the first place. It was true that a fan in the know could help the mission, but surely they could've found a fan who was less bizarre and obnoxious. Someone who'd been vetted by the studio.

Someone they knew for a fact they could trust.

"Okay then," said Quincy. "Let's not aim so high. How about this?" He leaned over even further. "What can you tell me about why you disappeared for twenty years?"

Hannahlee turned her blazing emerald gaze on him. "Disappeared?"

"You worked steadily on TV for ten years after
Weeping Willows
...starred for three years on
Big Hair
, till it went off the air in '86...then
poof
." Quincy twirled his hand in the air with a flourish. "No more Lianna sightings
on
screen or
off
. Now here you are. In the flesh, calling yourself 'Hannahlee Saylor.' What's with the alias?"

"Why don't
you
tell
me
, Mr. Pittenger?" said Hannahlee. "Or do you prefer 'Gilbert?'"

Just then, Dunne saw something he couldn't believe: Quincy at a loss for words. It only lasted a moment, but it was still amazing.

When Quincy spoke again, his voice was subdued. "Call me Quincy."

"'Gilbert Pittenger?'" said Dunne.

"His real name," said Hannahlee.

"Congratulations. You've done your research." Quincy leaned back, giving Dunne's rib cage a rest.

"So tell me," said Hannahlee. "Why 'Sweet Quincy Windsor' instead of Gilbert Pittenger?"

"Stage name," said Quincy. "'Sweet Quincy Windsor' sounds more like a professional filker."

"If you say so," said Hannahlee.

"So tell me about
your
name," said Quincy. "Why 'Hannahlee Saylor?'"

Hannahlee's mouth twitched. She looked away, then back at Quincy. "It's my real name. The one I was born with. Lianna was my stage name."

Quincy leaned over again, putting the pressure back on Dunne's aching ribs. "So why'd you go back to Hannahlee?"

"My career was over," said Hannahlee. "And I was tired of fending off horny fanboys."

Dunne laughed. That might have been the reason Quincy suddenly jabbed him between the ribs, turning the laugh into a gasp.

"Seriously." Quincy stared at her intently. "What happened to you? Where'd you go? Why'd you come back?"

Hannahlee winced. "I'm done talking about this," she said. "Unless you'd like to tell us about Knox."

Quincy's expression went blank. He gave her a last look, then settled back in his seat.

"All right then." Hannahlee got up and stepped into the aisle. "I'll be right back."

As she headed for the bathroom at the end of the cabin, Dunne turned to Quincy. "What's Knox? Like
Fort
Knox?"

Quincy ignored him and pulled a blue mp3 music player out of the pocket of his leather vest. Though he'd switched from the puffy white shirt to a pink Kitty Willow t-shirt underneath, he still wore the same black vest etched with flames that he'd had on at Willowcon.

"What's Knox?" said Dunne. "Or should I say
who
?"

In the midst of plugging the music player's white ear buds into his ears, Quincy glared. "Remember that guy up in Idaho?" His nasally voice was tight with strong emotion. "The one who
killed
and
ate
over fifty people ten years ago in honor of the death goddess
Kali
?"

Dunne frowned and shook his head.

"Well, that wasn't Knox," said Quincy. "Now fleave me alone."

"'Fleave' you alone?" said Dunne.

"Short for 'fucking leave me alone!'" Quincy plunged the buds into his ears. "Didn't anyone ever teach you to speak
flanguage
?"

"No," said Dunne.

"Well how
could
they?" said Quincy. "I just made it fup!"

And that was all Dunne got from him at that point on the subject of Knox.

 

The Kitty Willow lookalike skated right into Hannahlee, bowling both of them over. They ended up in a tangle of arms and legs on the cement floor at Quincy's feet.

An enormous, leering grin spread across his face. He tilted his head back and spoke to the ceiling. "Thank you, God. All these years of praying have finally paid off."

Dunne darted around him and helped Hannahlee get to her feet. When he tried to do the same for the skating Kitty, she fell and pulled him down on top of her.

"Sorry," she said. "I'm so sorry! I'm usually not this clumsy, but I'm really nervous today."

"Why's that?" said Dunne as he rolled off her.

"I have my big scene with Luanne today." Roller Kitty used a handrail on the wall to pull herself up. "Can you believe it?"

"Luanne...Diego?" said Hannahlee.

Roller Kitty tossed her great feathery mane of golden 1970s hair. "Bella Willow is
in
the
house
!" She let out a little squeal of excitement. "I am so
pumped
."

Then, she spun around and skated off down the hallway.

"Luanne Diego is here?" Dunne got up and faced Quincy. "To shoot a
Willows
movie?"

"Poor, poor Funne." Quincy shook his head. "Haven't you ever heard of a
fan film
?"

"Since when does
Luanne
freakin'
Diego
appear in a
fan film
?" said Dunne.

"Since
now
, you
fidiot
." Quincy pushed past him and headed down the hall after Roller Kitty.

"Enough with the
flanguage
, already!" said Dunne. Then, with a huge, exasperated sigh, he fell in step behind Quincy with Hannahlee by his side.

 

The three of them emerged in a film studio that had once been a high school gymnasium.

The giant space was full of sets and equipment—lights, microphones, and cameras. Actors and crew rushed in every direction, adjusting makeup, costumes, and gear.

All of it looked a little haphazard, low-budget...but still. The scene in the gym looked pretty close to the way Dunne imagined a real movie set might look.

Hannahlee stared. "These are all
fans
doing this?"

Quincy nodded. "Some
pros
, too...but they're all doing it
for the love
."

"And Halcyon Studios just
lets
them?" said Dunne.

"As long as no one makes any money," said Quincy. "Fan films, especially quality ones like this, create fan goodwill and build buzz on the 'net for the property."

"I can't believe Luanne's doing one," said Hannahlee.

Quincy shrugged. "She's not the first
Willows
actor to do a fan film. Pete Hodges did
The Mark of a Willow
last year, and he got a reality show gig right after." Quincy patted Hannahlee's shoulder. "Maybe you ought to consider it."

Hannahlee turned her emerald glare on him and held it there until he moved his hand.

"You said Gowdy's supposed to be here?" said Dunne.

"Just a frumor at this point," said Quincy. "He's either working on this film or his secret dream project."

"Secret dream project?" said Dunne.

"Haven't you heard of 'Godseye?'" said Quincy. "Everybody
else
has."

"Then how can you call it 'secret?'" said Dunne.

"Just because we've
heard
about it," said Quincy, "doesn't mean anyone knows what the
fell
it is."

At that moment, a blond man in Fidel Castro-style olive drab and black boots hurried over from the set. "Don't just
stand
there!" he said. "You're needed on the
set
!"

"What the hell?" said Dunne.

The Castro blond grabbed Quincy's arm and pulled him along. "We're burnin' daylight here, assholes! Shake a leg!"

"You directors are all the same," said Quincy. "A bunch a' slave drivers and
fegomaniacs
! Shove it up yer
fass
!"

Blond Castro—who was actually a little taller than giant Quincy—spun and snarled in Quincy's face. "Who do you think you
are
, talkin'
smack
in
my
house?" In a flash, he pulled a pistol from a holster on his belt and jammed the barrel between Quincy's eyes. "Say them! Say the only words that can possibly save your shriveled soul!"

"I'm a little teapot, short and stout!" Quincy bellowed the lyrics in his resonant singing voice. "This is my handle, this is my spout!"

With a wild howl, blond Castro pulled the trigger.

And nothing happened. Which was pretty much the outcome Dunne had anticipated, considering the bizarre characters involved.

"Saints preserve us!" Quincy clapped his hands and beamed skyward. "I've got a second chance at life! It's a
miracle
."

"No." Blond Castro pointed the gun at his own temple and pulled the trigger. "It's a prop."

"Ladies and gentlemen, Enrique Bocagrande!" Quincy threw an arm around blond Castro's shoulders. "Writer, actor, director, fellow filker, Renaissance man!"

"Welcome to Scratchtown Studios," said Enrique. "
Mi casa es su casa.
"

Quincy leaned forward and spoke his hand in a stage whisper. "I know it's hard to believe, but he isn't a
real
Mexican. He just
wants
to be."

"Mr. Bocagrande," said Dunne.

"Call me
Enrique
,
por favor
," said Enrique.

"Cyrus Gowdy wouldn't happen to be here, would he?" said Dunne.

Enrique chuckled. "You just missed him, señor. He and
Santa Claus
just skedaddled out the back door with the
Tooth Fairy
."

"This one's full of shit." Quincy hiked a thumb at Enrique. "Knowing him, he probably has Gowdy stashed in a
meat locker
somewhere."

"Aw shucks." Enrique bobbed his head and scuffed his feet. "Maybe I
do
know a little
somethin'
-somethin'."

"Like what?" said Hannahlee.

Suddenly, a loud crackling noise flared up, and Enrique grabbed a walkie talkie radio from his belt. He conducted a brief conversation...every word of which, on both sides, sounded like total gibberish to Dunne.

Then, Enrique clicked off the walkie talkie and pointed at the set, his expression verging on panic. "We'll have to talk about this later! If you don't get on the set in
ten seconds
, this movie will
self-destruct
!"

 

Dunne felt, for a moment, as if he were in the 1970s, on the set of the original
Weeping Willows
.

A production assistant closed the clapper board with a loud crack and darted out of the shot. As soon as Enrique shouted, "Action!" Luanne Diego began to speak.

Luanne Diego, the original Bella Willow herself.

"This isn't possible." Luanne wandered around the set, which was an almost perfect copy of the Team Room from the Willows' old headquarters on the TV show. "I can't have gone
thirty years
back in time...
can
I?"

According to the movie's plot, as Enrique had explained it, time travel—or the illusion of it—was exactly what had happened to Bella. It was one way to return her to the 1970s world of the Willows while justifying that she looked thirty years older.

Not that she looked thirty years
worse
. In fact, Dunne was impressed by just how good she looked. The oldest sister on the show, Luanne had to be at least in her late 50s, more likely her 60s...and she'd managed to keep her slender, perfectly accented figure. She had minimal crow's feet around her eyes, and her neck lacked major folds or wrinkles. Her long hair looked as lustrous and dark as it did in reruns of the show.

Time—and plastic surgery—had been much kinder to her than to Hannahlee.

"Excuse me." The actress playing Kitty, who'd skated into the real Kitty earlier, made her entrance. "Who are you? What are you doing here?"

"Kitty?" said Luanne. "Is that you? Oh my God..."

Kitty pulled a pistol from her macramé bag. "I've never seen you before. How do you know my name?"

Luanne wiped away tears. "Oh, Kitty. I haven't seen you in thirty years, since the day you d—" She caught herself and turned away.

Quincy, who was off-camera, followed her with the boom microphone that hung from a pole over her head. Like Dunne, he'd been recruited by Enrique to help with the film.

Only Hannahlee had not volunteered. Instead, she stood beside Enrique, solemnly watching the proceedings.

Dunne wondered what she thought of it all. Did she feel nostalgic for the original show? Did memories, good and bad, swirl within her? Did she long to join Luanne on the set and try to recapture the magic? Did she feel anything at all?

Looking at her, he couldn't tell. Her face remained unreadable, as if it were only a plastic place-holder representing the real woman, who was located a thousand miles away.

"Can it be?" Luanne's emotion-packed line pulled Dunne's attention back to the set. She whirled to face the actress playing Kitty. "What day is this?"

Kitty raised the pistol. "Are you on PCP or something?"

"What day is it?" said Luanne. "Please tell me."

Kitty narrowed her eyes. "May 6
^th
, 1977. Friday." She glanced at her watch. "Nine forty-three A.M. All right? Are you happy now?"

Slowly, Luanne sank to the sofa. "Oh my God." She looked dazed. "This is it. This is the day."

"Okay, honey." Kitty moved toward her, keeping the gun leveled in her direction. "We'd better get you back to the hospital now."

Luanne spoke her next words in a stage whisper, gazing directly at the camera. "This is the day...when Kitty
died
." Then, she buried her horrified expression in her hands and began to sob.

A moment later, Enrique shouted, "Cut!"

Everyone relaxed instantly. The cast and crew hustled around the soundstage, tending to their usual between-scenes duties.

Except Luanne. The second the scene ended, she leaped off the sofa and made a beeline for Hannahlee. Before Hannahlee could react, Luanne flung her arms around her and squeezed.

"Thank you," said Luanne. "Oh, thank you for being here."

Hannahlee stood stiffly, letting the hug happen around her without actually participating.

Luanne leaned back and cupped Hannahlee's face in her hands. "You made that scene possible for me. Seeing you out here enabled me to recapture the feeling of loving and losing a sister." Luanne smiled warmly. "Loving and losing
you
, Kitty Willow, in particular."

Hannahlee sighed. "Someone murdered Scott Savage," she said. "If you're not careful, I might not be the only one who ends up loved and lost."