The Midnight Tour

“Sorry,” he muttered, trying to sound contrite.

She looked away.

And Owen suddenly realized that his tape player was still rewinding.

Shit!

He pressed the Stop button, then the Play.

Maggie’s voice.

“...got done murdering Ethel, it went on a rampage around the room. It knocked over this bust of Caesar, breaking off his nose. See, this...”

Owen shut it off.

He stared at the player.

How the hell far back...? That’s in Ethel’s room. Right at the start of the tour!

He sighed. He almost felt like crying.

Thanks a lot, Monica.

He pressed the Fast Forward button.

Now it’s gonna take forever. And she’ll be down there waiting for me, getting madder and madder...

He shut it off.

Then he stepped away from the nursery door and started making his way through the crowded hallway.

Heading for the stairs.

Because it was over.

He wouldn’t be able to enjoy the tour, anyway. Not with Monica in his head.

Maybe someday I’ll be able to come back again-without her—and get to go on the tour without having it ruined.

Owen walked out onto the porch of Beast House. The bright sunlight hurt his eyes and made him squint.

Monica, standing near the end of the porch, saw him and tilted her head sideways. Then she hurried over to him. “That didn’t take so long,” she said, sounding quite cheerful.

“Nope,” Owen said, and pulled off his earphones.

They stepped past the hanging body of Gus Goucher and walked down the stairs.

“So,” Monica said. “Was it everything you expected?”

“It was fine.”

“Great! I’m glad at least one of us had a good time.”

“Yeah.”

She took hold of his hand as they walked toward the ticket booth. He didn’t pull it away.

“Look at all these people,” she said. “Don’t they know what they’re letting themselves in for?”

“Probably not,” Owen said.

As they neared the booth, he saw that the person handing out tape players to arriving visitors was the guide he’d seen by the attic stairs.

The tall, fabulous blonde.

The tight cold knot inside his chest suddenly seemed to start melting.

My God, look at her.

“Oh, great,” Monica muttered. Apparently, she too had recognized the girl. “King Kong.”

Owen felt no anger.

He stared at the guide. She was sure large, all right, but she had a very good figure. She looked great in the tan blouse and shorts that seemed to be the uniform for Beast House guides.

Her bare arms and legs were softly tanned. Unfortunately, she wore sunglasses. He couldn’t see her eyes, but he. had no trouble remembering how they’d looked upstairs in the house—deep blue and intelligent and sensitive.

Though busy handing out tape players and giving instructions to a family of four, she flashed a smile of big white teeth at Owen and Monica. In a smooth, friendly voice, she said to them, “I’ll take those from you in just a moment, okay?”

“Fine,” Owen said. He felt weak.

He watched her until the family headed off toward Beast House. Then he and Monica stepped toward her. “Sorry you had to wait,” she said, taking their players and headphone. “I hope you enjoyed the tour.”

“It was very nice,” Owen said.

She wore a red plastic name plate above her right breast. It read, DANA.

“Did you come from far away?” she asked.

“We took the bus over from San Francisco.”

“Really? How was the ride?”

“Long,” Monica said. “Endless and...”

“It was fine,” Owen said, shooting a hard glance at Monica.

She gave him back a smug smile.

To Dana, he said, “The guide on the bus—Patty—she was really good.”

“Glad to hear it. So, do you think Beast House was worth the trip?”

“I sure thought so,” Owen said.

In the corner of his eye, he saw Monica shaking her head.

“I thought it was really great,” he added.

“Terrific,” Dana said. “Well, I hope you both enjoy the rest of your day.”

“Thank you. You, too.”

“So long, now.”

“Bye,” Owen said and hurried away from her, dragging Monica by the hand.

Chapter Thirteen

THE SNACK STAND

I wonder what their problem is, Dana thought as she watched the couple hurry away. The guy had seemed awfully embarrassed and uncomfortable about something. Girlfriend troubles, probably. The girl with him had looked smirky and mean.

She remembered seeing them upstairs, earlier.

The gal had seemed unpleasant even then. Maybe she was one of those people who hated the place.

Dana had spotted a few of those, already. You could tell just by looking that they found the tour disgusting and horrible.

Hard to imagine they’d simply stumbled into the situation. How could they not know they were walking into a houseful of grue-some, nasty stories and exhibits?

Some of the visitors had probably gotten pushed into giving it a try. Maybe a friend or spouse or child had desperately wanted to do the Beast House tour, so they’d gone along, wanting to be good sports.

Lousy idea.

The tour was hard enough on people when they knew what to expect and wanted it—or thought they did.

Dana supposed that it turned out, for many, to be worse than they bargained for.

Sure was worse than I expected.

Even though Dana had pretty much known what she was in for, she hadn’t lasted very long upstairs. She’d been fine for a while. But the hallway had become hot and stuffy later in the morning. And crowded. With every minute that passed, more and more people had packed themselves into the narrow spaces.

Some were arguing with each other. Little kids demanded this or that in whiny sharp voices. Mothers snapped at the kids. Fathers issued orders and threats. Babies squealed and bawled.

Along with the noisy mob and the heat came the odors. The air smelled heavy with them. In addition to the