into the bucket seat, chose a key and tried it in the ignition.
It fit.
With a moan, she slumped forward and rested her head against the steering wheel.
What now? she wondered.
We
“Oh cripes,” she muttered. She flung open the door and rushed toward the rear of the car.
Even before she got there, she
And she was right.
Chapter Six
TUCK AND DANA
Tuck rolled the wrought iron gate open, then hurried back to the Jeep, hopped in and drove into the Beast House parking lot.
She grinned at Dana. “See? I told you we’d be the first ones here.”
“You almost have to be,” Dana pointed out. “If anybody shows up before you, they’ve got no place to park.”
“Plenty of room on Front Street, long as you get here early.” She steered across the empty lot, heading for its far corner. “Didn’t used to have any parking lot at all. Back in the old days, this was all lawn over here and everybody had to park on the street.”
“Progress,” Dana said.
“Things just got out of hand after the first movie. They
“Do you always park all the way over here?” Dana asked as they climbed out.
“Yep.”
“You can’t
“I could’ve dropped you off back there.”
“That’s all right,” Dana said. They met behind the Jeep and started walking toward the gate. “It just seems like a funny place to park. You
“I like my corner. For one thing, my car’s tucked safely out of the way where nobody is likely to bang it up. The main thing, though—I don’t want to be taking a good parking spot away from the paying customers.”
“That’s very considerate.”
Tuck grinned. “Just good business.”
“No wonder Janice has you running things.”
“It’s probably just because I’m the daughter of her husband. When you have a family business, you try to have family running it. Nobody else cares as much, and a lot of employees will rip you off if they get half a chance.”
Side by side, they walked through the gate. Turning to the right, they followed the sidewalk toward the ticket booth and entrance.
A car coming toward them on Front Street slowed down. Its left turn signal started to blink. Dana glimpsed a couple of adults in front, two or three kids in the back seat. Looking over her shoulder, she saw it turn through the gate of the parking lot.
“First customers of the day,” Tuck said.
“What time do you open the ticket booth?”
“Ten on the nose.”
Tuck turned aside before getting there, and started to unlock the entrance gate.
“Will I be selling tickets?” Dana asked.
“I thought I’d start you off today inside the house.”
“Fine.”
Tuck opened the gate. As soon as they were both inside, she shut it. Then they started up the walkway toward Beast House.
Dana tried not to look at the place. When Tuck had brought her here yesterday, she’d spent too long gazing at it, too long thinking about it. Ending up with a bad case of the creeps, she had almost refused to go in.
“We have regulars who handle the gift shop and snack bar,” Tuck explained, “so you won’t be involved in any of that. The guides basically have five different jobs: running the ticket booth, handing out and collecting the tape players, downstairs monitor, upstairs monitor, and supervisor.”
“That’s you?”
“That’s me. I’m basically in charge of the whole operation, and spend most of the day just wandering around, looking out for problems, trying to be friendly and helpful to our guests. I’m the person you’ll come to if you have any trouble or questions.
“I thought you might start off as the upstairs monitor. Tomorrow, you’ll have a different job. You’ll be alternating on a daily basis with the other guides. It’s very flexible, though. People do a lot of trading. The only thing you can’t trade on is bus tour guide. I suppose that’s job number six, but I don’t really count it. It’s Patty’s job. She lives in San Francisco, shows up here at about ten-thirty with a bus-load of tourists, wanders around being friendly and eating hot dogs, then takes off again at one-thirty and doesn’t come back again till the next day. She’s the only staff member you didn’t get a chance to meet yesterday.”
They started to climb the porch stairs.
Dana suddenly felt a sinking sensation in her stomach, a weakness in her legs.
She turned her head to avoid looking at the hanged man.
It’s all right, she told herself. Calm down. He’s just a dummy. Nothing’s going to happen.
She wiped her hands on the legs of her uniform shorts, and took a deep breath.
At the top of the six wooden stairs, Tuck smiled at her. “Are you okay?”
“A little nervous, I guess.”
“Nobody’s been killed here in years,” Tuck assured her. Then, grinning, she added, “Nobody that we know about, anyhow.”
They stepped across the porch. As Tuck unlocked the front door, Dana noticed the brass knocker. A monkey’s paw. It must’ve been there yesterday, but she didn’t remember seeing it.
“You’ll do fine,” Tuck told her.
“I hope so. The house is kind of creepy.”
“It’s supposed to be.”
“I guess I’ll get used to it.”
“I’m sure you will,” Tuck said, and swung the door open. As they walked in, she said, “If you’d rather start with an outside job...”
“pstairs monitor will be fine. The sooner I get used to working inside, the better.”
Tuck shut the front door, then leaned back against it. She slipped her hands casually into the front pockets of her shorts, crossed her ankles, and said, “It’s a pretty simple job, as work goes. Your main function will just be to wander around upstairs and keep an eye on things. There’ll be a fairly steady stream of tourists all day. You need to make sure everyone behaves, nobody touches the exhibits. Common sense stuff. It’s mostly a security and public relations job.”
“What if there is trouble?”
“It’s usually nothing more than kids acting up. Just tell them politely but firmly to behave themselves—same as you’d do if they were screwing around when you were on duty at the pool. But you’ll have a walkie-talkie on your belt if anything serious happens. The rest of us’ll drop everything and come running.”
“What sort of serious stuff might I expect?”
