The Midnight Tour

Owen supposed that they could’ve simply stopped by to enjoy the spectacle of the vampire queen and her eunuch. They kept glancing at the pair, whispering, chuckling and elbowing each other.

Couple of dorks.

Owen hoped they wouldn’t be going on the tour; they’d probably interrupt Lynn, laugh when they shouldn’t, make wisecracks...

Jungle Jim, eyeing those two, seemed to share Owen’s opinion. Maybe fifty years old, with a lean and rugged face, he studied them with a haughty look. One of his eyebrows was cocked as he surveyed the guys through his gold-rimmed glasses. He wore a safari jacket replete with epaulets, pocket flaps and a cloth belt. His tan trousers, matching the jacket, were tucked into the high tops of his paratrooper boots. His outfit seemed incomplete without a hunting knife and a high-powered rifle. He did, however, carry a weathered black camera around his neck.

Maybe he’s a photo journalist, Owen thought—just back from covering tribal warfare in Rwanda.

The only remaining early-arrivals were a man and woman who appeared to be married. Thirty-five to forty years old, they were both slender, attractive and nicely dressed.

The man, going bald on top, made up for the loss with thick eyebrows and a heavy mustache. He had lively, almost impish eyes that seemed to be scanning the area in search of oddities or mischief. His clothing looked new and expensive: a crew-neck, camel sweater with long sleeves; trim gray slacks; and black leather wingtip shoes.

His wife had thick brown hair, a lovely face, a creamy complexion and fabulous eyes.

Make that three babes, Owen thought. Then he felt a little guilty. This woman was beautiful, but it seemed wrong to consider her a babe. She seemed too...dignified. A woman, not a babe.

Her eyes somehow looked calm and excited and amused and intelligent all at the same time. She wore a fuzzy, forest green sweater over a white blouse with an open collar. Her bare neck looked long and sleek. The sweater, rising over the push of her breasts, reached down past the waist of her skirt—a kilt of Stuart plaid. Below the hem of her kilt, her legs looked bare. She wore no socks. On her feet were brown, penny loafers.

What a great-looking couple, Owen thought. Doctors, maybe. Or professors. What the hell are they doing at a place like this?

Nobody else seemed to be standing around.

Owen counted.

Ten, including himself.

He had one extra ticket in his pocket. So only two people (other than John) were missing.

He glanced at his wristwatch.

7:52

In eight minutes, the picnic would start.

I’d better stop screwing around and do something about the ticket.

Reaching inside his windbreaker, Owen fingered the tickets in his shirt pocket and pulled one out. He raised it overhead.

“Excuse me, everyone!” he announced. “Do all of you have tickets for tonight? I have an extra one I’d be glad to sell.”

The vampire queen gave him a narrow glance. Her eunuch ignored him. The tennis lady and her husband politely looked at Owen and shook their heads.

“Sorry, man,” said the beanpole.

His chubby friend said, “Can’t help you, dude—we got ours.”

Not such bad guys.

Jungle Jim took the pipe out of his mouth, scowled at Owen and proclaimed in an excessively loud, high- pitched voice, “Sorry, old chap. It seems we all had the foresight to purchase our tickets in advance.”

“That’s what I did,” Owen explained. “I bought two, but then my friend got sick. I was hoping maybe I could unload his ticket.”

The well-dressed, mustached man said, “You might be able to turn it in for a refund.”

His wife nodded in agreement. Large eyes fixed on Owen, she looked concerned. “I should think you might be able to sell it without too much trouble. This is an awfully popular attraction.”

“From what we hear,” said her husband, “it’s always a sellout.”

“That’s right. So there may very well be people trying to get tickets at the last moment.”

“I’ll take the ticket off your hands!” piped a familiar voice from behind Owen.

His stomach knotted.

The woman smiled as if delighted by Owen’s quick success.

“There you go,” said her husband.

“Dude!” proclaimed the chubby teenager.

The skinny sidekick gave Owen a thumb’s up.

Jungle Jim planted the pipe between his teeth and nodded briskly at Owen, looking pleased with himself as if he’d caused the customer to materialize.

Trying to keep a smile on his face, Owen turned around.

“Surprise!” Monica greeted him, strutting out of the parking lot. “I’m feeling so much better suddenly,” she announced. “Now you won’t need to sell my ticket!”

He gaped at her.

Smirking, she plucked the ticket out of his hand. Then she swung an arm around his back, pulled herself against him, stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the mouth.

A moment later, she whirled away. “Hello, everyone! I’m Monica! I was suffering from a terrible migraine, but I’m feeling so much better now. I think we’re going to have a super time tonight, don’t you?”

Chapter Forty-nine

TICKETS AND BADGES

“Anything I can do to help?” Dana asked as Warren slapped a hamburger patty onto the barbecue. The meat hissed as it hit the grill.

“You can just stand there looking beautiful,” Warren said.

She laughed.

Tuck, suddenly behind her, said, “I’m gonna puke.”

Dana turned and smiled at her. “The hamburgers smell great to me.”

“It ain’t the burgers, it’s him.” She nodded at Warren.

“You weren’t supposed to hear it,” he said.

“Well, lordy, don’t say repulsive stuff like that in public. And especially not at a picnic. You’ll spoil appetites.”

“I thought it was fine,” Dana said.

“You would.” Tuck rapped Dana lightly on the upper arm.

She had a small paper bag in her hand. As it bumped against Dana, whatever was inside clacked and clicked together. “Anyway, why don’t you come along—if you can tear yourself away from Golden Lips. I’m about to greet our esteemed guests. You want to experience the full treatment, don’t you?”

“We...” She looked at Warren.

“Go ahead. I can get along without you for a few minutes.^*

“Okay. See you.”

They walked away, Tuck swinging the bag by her side. “Ah,” she said. “Summer romances.”

“Feels like a winter romance.”

“Yeah. A bit of a nip in the air, huh? But it’s great atmosphere.” She looked over her shoulder at Beast House. “This is how it oughta be all the time. I mean, talk about bleak and spooky. Our friends are gonna eat it up.”

“Speaking of friends, what about Eve?”

Tuck grimace. “I don’t know. But it’s still early. She has plenty of time to get here before the tour.”