The Midnight Tour

“Wow,” John said. He looked awestruck.

“So, are you gonna be there?”

“Uh... Gosh... I guess I’d sure like to. But it’s like a hundred bucks, isn’t it?”

“It is a hundred bucks.”

He grimaced. “That’s a lot of money.”

“Worth every nickle.”

“Bet it is,” he mumbled, shaking his head. “But I don’t know.”

“Well, I hope you decide to join us. I think there’re still a few openings.”

“I just got number nine,” Owen said.

“That only leaves four,” Lynn said. Reaching out, she patted John’s arm. “Better make up your mind soon, pal.”

“I might just do it,” he said.

“I’ve gotta go.” Lynn started down the porch stairs. “So long, Owen. So long, John. Hope I see you both tomorrow night.”

“Bye,” Owen called after her.

“See ya,” John called.

In front of the porch, Lynn made her way around the cluster of tourists at Station One and headed off to the side.

“What a bitchin’ babe,” John said.

“Yeah,” said Owen, and gave him the camera.

“Wouldn’t kick her outa bed. Know what I mean?”

“I know.”

“Man, I gotta go on that Midnight Tour.”

“It should be pretty cool.”

“I need me a hundred bucks.”

Uh-oh.

“They take credit cards,” Owen explained, starting to feel embarrassed and guilty.

“Who’s got credit cards?”

Everybody I know, Owen thought.

This guy hasn’t got credit cards?

“I maxed ’em all out,” John explained.

Brilliant, Owen thought.

John reached under the loose tail of his shirt and hauled out his wallet. He opened it. Owen caught a glimpse inside the bill compartment and looked away quickly.

He wanted nothing to do with any of this.

He wanted to be away from John and inside the house, alone, listening to the tape.

“Got only twenty-three bucks,” John announced. “Shit.”

It’s not my fault.

Owen wanted to say, “Well, I’d better get on with the tour,” but he knew how awful that would sound. Why not just say, “I don’t give a rat’s ass about your money troubles, fella. I don’t even know you. Just leave me alone so I can enjoy the tour.”

“Did you bring your checkbook?” Owen asked.

“Nah, it’s at home.”

“Where’s home?”

“Mattoon.”

“Where?”

“Mattoon. Illinois.”

“My God, you’re a long way from home.”

“You telling me?”

“And you left your checkbook all the way back in Illinois?”

“Sure. Closed the bank account before I took off.”

“Ah. So how did you get here?”

“Drove.”

“So you have a car?”

“Well, it’s my brother’s. I borrowed it off him.”

“And now all you’ve got to your name is twenty-three dollars?”

“That’s about the size of it.”

Owen shook his head and laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“You’re a couple of thousand miles from home and down to your last twenty bucks, but you managed to buy yourself a brand new Beast House hat and you blew fifteen bucks on today’s tour.”

John grinned. His teeth were crooked and needed to be brushed. Owen looked away from them. “That ain’t all,” John said. “I blew fifteen bucks on the tour yesterday, too.”

“Good God. You must be nuts.”

“Nuts about Beast House,” he said as if proud of himself. “Thing is, I always aimed to get here with enough money left over for the Midnight Tour and the whole shebang, but I ran into some car trouble along the way and had to buy me a whole new radiator. Car’s a piece of crap.”

“Well, I wish I could help you out. But...” He shrugged.

“Forget it,” John said. “I ain’t no freeloader. But you wanta do me a real big favor?”

Owen struggled not to groan. Trying to smile pleasantly, he asked, “What sort of favor?”

“Take my camera with you on the Midnight Tour? Get me some pictures of the good stuff? And a couple pictures of Lynn, too. That way, at least I’ll be able to see what I missed. How about it?”

“Well...”

John thrust the camera at him.

Owen held it away. “No, no, wait. Just keep your camera, okay?”

“You won’t...?” John looked ready to cry.

“The tour isn’t till tomorrow night. I don’t want to be... responsible for your camera. Look. Look. Tell you what. Are you hungry?”

“Starving.”

“Me, too. Why don’t we go on over to the snack stand and have something to eat.”

John shook his head. “Gotta save my money.”

“My treat. Come on. We can do the house tour later.”

“Well. Okay. Sure. Why not?”

Side by side, they trotted down the porch stairs.

How the hell did I get into this? Owen wondered.

Payback for dumping Monica?

Chapter Twenty-nine

SANDY’S STORY—July, 1992

Reaching the beach ahead of Blaze, Sandy looked around.

Nobody seemed to be out on the water. She studied the rocky bluffs on both sides of the beach and saw no one. Good thing. Because this was such a secluded patch of shoreline, Blaze probably intended her to pose in the nude.

She lowered the easel and cooler onto the sand, then sat on the cooler to wait for him. She could see him a distance up the trail, making his way carefully down its switchbacks, the wind fluttering his white shirt and trousers.

“Be careful!” she called.