The Midnight Tour (61 page)

Dana’s purse was hanging by its strap from the closet door.

She walked over to it, reached in, and pulled out the pistol Eve had loaned to her.

“How do you suppose he keeps getting in?” she asked.

Tuck shook her head. “No idea. But I know he’ll never get in
again.
Not if we find him. I’ll blow his ass off.”

Chapter Forty-six

OWEN’S BAD NIGHT

They were chasing Owen over a sunny, deserted stretch of beach.

He was terrified, but he didn’t know why. They were Dana and Lynn and the beautiful stranger from the Jacuzzi. They looked great. They were golden in the sunlight. Except for their cowboy hats and western boots, they were naked

They’ll never catch me, not in those shit-kicker boots.

But they were
gaining
on him!

If they get me...

He wasn’t sure what would happen if they caught him, but he knew it would be horrible.

They’ll do me like they did Cromwell.

He wasn’t sure what they’d done to John. All he knew was that his friend had been running just behind him down the beach and then he was gone.

What’d they do to him?

Something monstrous.

And they’/l do it to me if they catch me.

He glanced back.

They were so much closer than before!

He felt a scream rising in his chest.

And suddenly he heard the
vroom!
of a car engine. Speeding straight toward him, sand blooming behind it, was John’s old blue dune buggy.

He’s coming to the rescue!

“Hurry!”
Owen yelled.

It raced closer, closer.

Glancing back, he saw the women stop running.

They’re giving up!

Laughing with relief, he ran toward the dune buggy.

As it bore down on him, he saw that the driver wasn’t John.

Of course not. They got John, remember?

The driver was Monica, teeth bared, glee in her violet eyes, her raven hair blowing wild. Her arms and shoulders were bare. Tied around her neck was a silk scarf. It matched her eyes, and flowed behind her in the wind.

She’s gonna run me over!

“No!”
he yelled, and woke up.

Morning. At last.

But the engine sound was real.

Heart pounding, Owen scurried off the bed and ran to the window. He pulled its heavy curtains apart. Sunlight flooded his room.

Over to the right, a white Porsche was backing out of a parking space. It stopped for a moment, its engine rumbling. Then it swung away and thundered toward the exit.

Owen let his hands fall. The curtains stayed open.

He scanned the entire courtyard, looking for John’s old Ford.

Most of the parking spaces were empty.

They’d been packed last night when he finally got back. By then, the Welcome Inn’s neon “No Vacancy” sign had been glowing by the side of the road.

He’d sure been glad to see that sign.

Up in the wooded hills last night, waiting for John, Owen feared that he would never get back.

He sat in the car all alone, surrounded by darkness.

Afraid a hand might reach in and grab him, he soon rolled up the windows and locked the doors. But with all fresh air cut off, strange, disgusting odors seemed to rise around him and envelop him.

He tried to put up with the stink.

Then he thought,
What’s a window going to keep out? I’m no safer in here than I’d be outside.

He didn’t exactly believe that, so it took a lot of courage to open the door and climb out.

It was good to get away from the nasty odors.

But he felt exposed.

After standing in front of the car for a while, he climbed up and sat on its hood.

And sat there.

Surrounded by darkness.

Shivering with cold and fear.

They could get me from any side!

He stuck with it, though.

He frequently checked his wristwatch. Each minute seemed to last for ten. When his watch showed 11:30, he told himself that he would wait till midnight.

If John isn’t back by then, I’ll walk to the motel

Or try to, anyway,

On the way up, he hadn’t paid close attention to the route. A downhill course, however, should take him to Front Street somewhere north of town. Make a left, and he’d get to the Welcome Inn sooner or later.

It’s probably no more than four or five miles, he thought.

If I have to walk back, that’ll be it for John. He doesn’t get into the room tonight and be doesn’t go on the Midnight Tour. Not on the ticket I paid for. I’ll rip it to shreds,

Don’t rip it up, he told himself. Turn it in at the ticket office and get a refund.

Or scalp it tomorrow night. I can probably sell it for a lot more than I paid for it. Maybe a hundred and fifty, two hundred bucks. I should shoot for two hundred...

Right, Sure thing. John has the pictures, so I’ll give him whatever be wants
.

If he ever shows up.

At 11:41, Owen heard crunching noises in the woods to his right.

They sounded like footsteps.

He felt his scrotum shrivel.

Maybe it’s John, he told himself.

Staring into the trees beside the road, he saw nothing except motionless shadows and bits of moonlight.

The noises stopped.

He opened his mouth, but couldn’t force himself to call out.

If it’s John, why doesn’t be come out? Why’s he doing this to me?

What if it ISN’T john?

Owen glanced at his wristwatch.

11:43

“Well,” he muttered. “Guess it’s about time to get going.”

He jumped down from the hood and walked slowly away from the front of John’s car.

Slowly for a few strides, then faster.

Then faster.

The moment he rounded the curve in the road, he broke into a run. Shoes smacking the pavement, arms pumping, he sprinted for all his worth. He ran on and on.

At last, worn out, he slowed to a walk. Aching, panting, drenched in sweat, he turned around.

Nobody was chasing him.

Got away just in the nick of time.

With frequent glances over his shoulder, Owen walked the rest of the way back to the Welcome Inn.

Nobody gave chase.

No cars passed him, not even while he walked along Front Street.

He saw nobody at all.

When he finally spotted the neon “No Vacancy” sign of the Welcome Inn, he felt saved.

I’m all right now.

Though the courtyard was crowded with parked cars, nobody was roaming about. The room windows were dark. He heard no voices, no laughter.

Am I the only one up at this hour?

Trying to be quiet, he let himself into his room. It felt hot and stuffy. He turned on a light and looked around. There were John’s broken glasses on top of the nightstand. And there was the telephone directory where he’d found Lynn’s address.

No John.

What did you think, he’d beat you back? He’s still up there, having the time of his life.

Or else dead.

He’ll be back, Owen told himself. Any minute now, he’ll come pounding on the door, wanting in. And then he’ll brag about all the great stuff I missed.

In the bathroom, Owen shut and locked the door. Then he took off his clothes. They were filthy and sodden with sweat. He piled them in a corner of the floor, bent over the tub and turned the water on. It thundered out of the spigot.

He hoped the noise of the plumbing wouldn’t disturb anyone.

But he
had
to take a shower.

He made it quick.

As he stood beneath the hot spray, he thought he heard voices, people knocking on the door of his room, even the ringing of his telephone.

But nobody was there when he got out.

The red light on the phone wasn’t blinking, so nobody had called and left a message.

He stepped back into the bathroom, but left the door wide open while he dried himself, brushed his teeth, then urinated and flushed the toilet.

Done in the bathroom, he searched his suitcase and pulled out his pajamas. They were pale white and neatly folded. He hadn’t worn them at all since leaving Los Angeles, but tonight he might need to haul himself out of bed to let John in. So he put them on.

I guess I’ll
have
to let him in, Owen thought.

Then he gave the bed a quick inspection. Satisfied that there was nothing disturbing between its sheets, he turned off the light and climbed in.

It felt great.

He sighed with pleasure, shut his eyes, and fell asleep.

And lurched awake in the dark room, sweaty and gasping, his heart slamming with fright.

He sat up and turned on the nightstand lamp. He checked his wristwatch.

3:20

He looked at the other bed.

Where the bell is he!

Owen switched the lamp off. He flopped back down on the bed and shoved aside the blanket. Even the sheet seemed too hot, so he flipped it away. He shut his eyes and tried to sleep.

His mind was a turmoil, swirling with a seemingly endless string of feverish scenerios about John, about Dana and Lynn and the beautiful but dangerous stranger, about whoever or whatever had been lurking nearby in the bushes, even about Monica. Some of the images terrified him. Others wracked him with guilt. One moved him with hopes of love. A few made him grow hard with lust. He writhed on the bed, his damp pajamas twisted around his body. He lost track of when he was awake, when asleep. The scenerios wouldn’t stop. They seemed too vivid to be dreams.

More like hallucinations.

Every so often, cars drove up. There were knocks on the door and he climbed out of bed, thinking John had finally returned. The first time, John stood there headless. Another time, he seemed all right but out of breath and frantic.
“Let me in! Let me in! It’s after me!”

“What’s after you?”

“The great white ape! Let me in!”

Still another time, Owen had opened the door and found John naked and torn and bloody all over, his stiff severed penis protruding from his mouth like a cigar.

“Need a light?”
Owen asked.

In answer, John jerked him mouth open wide and the penis fell out and he screamed like a terrified lunatic.

Longest damn night of my life, Owen thought as he stared out the window at the sunny courtyard.

John’s car wasn’t there.

I wonder if I should call the police.

And tell them what? he asked himself. That we were up in the hills last night spying on some naked gals in a jacuzzi and John disappeared?

Real cute.

Besides, who’s to say he isn’t perfectly all right? He might’ve even ended up in the sack with one of those gals.

Fat chance.

The hell with him anyway. He’s a jerk.

Owen turned away from the window.

Might as well get dressed and..

I’d better take another shower first, he thought. He certainly needed one. And maybe a long, hot shower would loosen up his tense muscles, help him to calm down.

Inside the bathroom, he shut and locked the door and peeled off his damp pajamas.

As he stood under the hot spray, he decided that he would have a nice breakfast, then go over to Beast House and try to get a refund on John’s ticket for the Midnight Tour.

“Your ticket? Well, you disappeared, old pal. I really didn’t think you’d have any use for it, so I sold it.”

“YOU SOLD MY TICKET???”

“Sorry.”

A weary smile lifted the comers of Owen’s mouth.

Chapter Forty-seven

Saturday Gets Under Way

“Wake up! Yo! Time to rise and shine, your highness. It’s me. Lynn. You there? You gonna pick up? Where the hell are you? Anyway, we had a visitor last night—as you already know if you listened to the previous message. We subsequently searched the house but didn’t have any luck finding him. Don’t know how he got in, either. But then, you’re the trained investigator, not us. And you’re making yourself conveniently scarce. Bitch. Hey, we are starting to worry about you. Not that you can’t take care of yourself, but...Never mind. We’re leaving for work in a couple of minutes. You can call me there or drop by. And don’t forget about tonight. We’re expecting you for the tour—in full battle regalia. Plan to get there in time for the picnic if you can. But don’t make us wait all day to hear from you, okay? It’d be nice to know you didn’t have an accident and shoot off your toe or something. Not that we care. Anyway, take it easy. Bye.”

On the way to Beast House in the passenger seat of the Jeep, Dana pictured herself asleep in the bedroom while someone hunched over her in the darkness, sliced her nightshirt all the way down, spread it open and snapped photographs of her body.

Did he use a flash?

Why didn’t I wake up?

And why did he leave his camera behind?

She realized that Tuck had spoken to her. “Huh?” she asked.

“The blue Granada. It’s gone.”

Dana looked at the area of curb where the car used to be. “You’re right. Maybe its owner finally showed up.”

“Or Eve had it towed away last night.”

“But where is
she?”
Dana asked.

Tuck shook her head. “Who knows? Maybe she spent the night somewhere with a secret boyfriend. Or maybe she was at home and just couldn’t hear the phone from her bedroom. Or heard it, but didn’t feel like answering.”

“Do you think she’s all right?”

Tuck shrugged. “I don’t know. But I think it’s way too early to start worrying.”

“When
should
we start worrying?”

Tuck swung off Front Street. She stopped at the closed gate to the Beast House parking lot, then met Dana’s eyes. “If she doesn’t show up for the Midnight Tour.”