The Midnight Tour

“Hey!” Harry gasped. “What’s going on? Bambi? Bambi? What the matter?”

“I think the shovel hit her,” Sandy said.

“What?”

“I hit her with your shovel.”

“Are you nuts?”

“Who, me?”

“My God, Charly!”

Harry’s hands came out from under Lib. Grabbing her by the upper arms, he tried to push her up.

Sandy tossed aside the shovel and leaped off the edge of the grave. She landed with both feet in the middle of Lib’s back.

Harry grunted.

“You all right?” Sandy asked.

“Uh!”

“You won’t be!” Arms out for balance, she jumped up and down on Lib’s back. Each time she landed, Harry let out a noise as if he’d been kicked in the stomach.

After five or six jumps, Sandy bent her knees and sat down on the edge of the grave, her shoes still planted in the middle of Lib’s back.

“How are you doing, Harry?” .

He moaned.

Leaning forward, Sandy stared down into the hole. She could see the back of Lib’s head. She supposed that Harry’s face must be directly under Lib’s face, but the light didn’t reach down that far.

“How was she, Harry? Was she to die for?”

He didn’t answer.

Standing again, Sandy put her weight onto her right foot. With her left foot, she stomped the back of Lib’s head. She felt the collision with Harry’s face. She heard it, too.

“Did that hurt?” she asked.

Nothing.

She turned, stepped on Lib’s buttocks, then on the backs of her legs. At the foot of the grave, she squatted over Harry’s trousers. She found his pistol in one pocket, his wallet in another. She stuffed them into the pockets of her shorts, then climbed out.

Leaving the lantern, shovel and pick by the side of the grave, she hurried over to the body of Marlon Slade.

She bent over, grabbed his ankles, raised his legs, and dragged him across the clearing. It was tough work. By the time she reached the edge of the grave, she was sweaty and huffing for air.

She dropped his feet.

Then she picked up the lantern and crouched over the grave.

Harry’s legs were still stretched out between Lib’s legs.

She was still on top of him, hiding most of his body. By lowering the lantern into the hole, however, Sandy could see more. Harry’s right arm lay against the bottom of the hole at an angle away from his body. Lib’s left breast drooped between his arm and his side just under his armpit. Her face was pressed against the side of his head.

Sandy could see a little of Harry’s face.

His left eye, the profile of his nose, his lips and chin.

There was a lot of blood.

As she stared down at Harry, his eye blinked.

“Hello, Hany,” Sandy said.

He groaned.

“You still in her?”

His lips moved slightly, but he said nothing.

“Was she worth it?”

He said, “Uhhh.”

“You two belong together.”

“Heh...”

“What?”

“Help,” he murmured.

“Maybe Bambi’ll help you. She’s very accomodating.”

With that, Sandy stood up. She stepped away from the grave, set down the lantern, then squatted beside the body of Marlon Slade.

“Char... ?”

She tumbled Slade into the grave.

Then she filled it in.

Chapter Seventeen

NO-SHOWS

When Dana saw Warren striding toward her across the front lawn of Beast House, she hopped off the stool and raised a hand in greeting. Her heart was pounding fast.

“You made it through your first day,” he called, still a distance away.

“Pretty much.”

“How’d it go?”

“Lunch went great.”

He grinned. “Mine, too.” He stopped in front of her. Looking a little embarrassed, he pushed his hands into the front pockets. of his shorts and tilted his head to one side. “Anyway, it was sure nice to meet you.”

“Same here.”

“A fellow Southern Californian.”

“I’m no fellow,” Dana pointed out.

His grin widened and he blushed. “No, you’re sure not. Anyway, I’ll probably be seeing you around.”

“Probably at the snack stand tomorrow.”

“Hope so.”

Looks like he’s not gonna ask me out. Okay.

“Well,” he said, “I guess I’d better get going.”

“Okay. You walking?”

“Yeah. My place is just over there.” He pointed across the street toward the wooded area just north of the old brick Kutch house.

“Your cabin’s in the trees there?” Dana asked.

“Yep.”

“Do you have an ocean view?”

“Not much of one. You can see just a little water through the trees.”

“Sounds neat.”

“It’s not bad.”

You’re not much of a hint-taker, pal.

“Anyway,” he said, “I guess I’d better get going.”

“Okay. See you tomorrow.”

“See you.” He turned away and opened the iron gate next to the turnstile. On the other side of it, he glanced back and smiled again. “Take it easy, Dana.”

“Thanks.”

He started walking away.

“Hey, Warren?”