by Nic Saint
“Bring up the footage for the two to three o’clock segment,” I ordered. “Cameras twenty-six through twenty-nine. That should give us the Rusty Spur.”
Marisa’s slender fingers danced across the keyboard, and I watched, my heart racing, as the software trawled through gigabytes or possibly even terabytes of digital video to produce the time frame requested. A small disk was spinning on the screen as it did, and we all waited with bated breath.
Finally, images popped up in the four windows on Marisa’s monitor. No white noise but actual images! I peered intently at the imagery. A single light spread its diffuse light across the back of the Rusty Spur, not a soul in sight.
“Scroll forward,” I said, and Marisa tapped the appropriate button.
Nothing. Only the desolate rear facade and back door of the Rusty Spur.
Then, suddenly, a person moved into view. Dressed in black sweatpants and hooded sweatshirt, he stealthily approached the door and tapped in the security code. Judging from his movements, I had the impression he was male.
“That’s not Leo,” said Blane, earning him a scowl from the security man.
But Blane was right. No way this was Leo. The man caught on camera was of athletic build, and at least a hundred-and-fifty pounds lighter on his feet than Leo.
The man disappeared into the building. Impatiently, I tapped the forward key with the mouse and pressed it down. Soon, the man reappeared into frame.
“Show your face,” I muttered. “Just show us your face, you bastard.”
And then he did. For a brief moment, a streak of white flashed beneath the hoodie.
“Stop!” yelled Charlene, and I quickly clicked Stop and scrolled back.
The man didn’t look up at the camera, but his face was still visible.
Unfortunately, the image was so small it was hard to make out his features.
“Who is that?” asked Charlene, squinting at the screen. “Can’t you make it bigger?”
Marisa tapped a few keys, and the image of the nocturnal intruder—and Steve Geyser’s killer—now filled the entire screen.
We all gasped in shock when we recognized the man’s face.
From the screen, Kevin Woods was staring back at us.
Chapter 42
We all turned to Kevin, who was framed in the door, holding a bowie knife in his hand.
“Why didn’t you tell me, babe?” he demanded. “Why didn’t you tell me you had a backup? You told me every other detail about this stupid park!”
“Kevin?” asked Marisa, as shocked and surprised as the rest of us. “You did this?”
“I guess there’s no use denying, is there?” he asked, looking annoyed.
“But why?” asked Marisa.
“That’s what I would like to know,” Charlene chimed in. “Why indeed?”
“Money,” I said. “Isn’t that right, Kevin? How much did Phoenix pay you?”
“I didn’t do this for the money,” Kevin scoffed. “Easy there, cowboy,” he added when Dad made a move in his direction. “Stay back. All of you.”
“Then why?” asked Marisa.
“Isn’t it obvious? You were never going to leave this place. Did you really expect me to spend the rest of my life in this freak show? I like you, babe. I like you a lot. I know we can make this work—this thing we’ve got going.” He gestured between himself and Marisa with his knife, a wistful look on his face. “But there’s a whole world out there! A world waiting for us. But first I had to set you free from these shackles—this place got you tied down, babe. I could see that the only way to be happy together was to get rid of Charleneland.”
“By killing people?!” asked Marisa, her voice shrill. “Are you nuts?”
“I only killed the one guy. And he deserved it. He told me he was going to put the moves on you. Said you were the easiest Rugg to nail down. And how he was going to make you fall for him and then he’d be part of the family.” He shook his head. “I couldn’t let him get away with that crap.”
“Wait—you knew Steve Geyser?” asked Marisa.
“You were the one supplying tickets and vouchers to Steve’s little business venture, weren’t you, Kevin?” I asked, things suddenly making sense.
Kevin shrugged. “Steve and I go way back. I taught him the ropes at the Rusty Spur. We were castmates for two summers.”
Now I remembered. Kevin had started his Charleneland career as Sheriff Wayne, while he got his degree in accounting and before moving into the Pagoda—and putting the moves on Marisa himself. And successfully, too.
“I can’t believe you did this,” said Marisa, looking crestfallen. “I liked you, Kevin. I really liked you.”
“You told me you loved me,” he said, looking perturbed.
“That was before you turned into a freakin’ psycho!”
“I’m not a psycho!”
“You bombed Charleneland!”
“Someone had to. This place blows. Like, seriously blows. I mean, how many times can you listen to that old hag? ‘My Heart is a Pump that Pumps Only for You—Boom Boom!’ What a load of slop!”
“Hey—who are you calling an old hag?!” Charlene snarled.
“You! If I have to listen to one more Charlene song I’m going to scream!”
Marisa angrily dabbed a tear away. “You’re crazy, Kevin. Completely nuts.”
“I didn’t kill anyone,” he pointed out. “None of those explosions killed a single person.”
“You killed Steve,” I said.
“Because he deserved it! He said some very inappropriate things about Marisa.” He gave my sister a pleading look, holding out this hand. “Come with me, babe. Let’s blow this town.”
“You’re going to blow up Sapsucker, too?!” Marisa cried.
“It’s just an expression. Let’s split. You and me. We’re meant to be.”
“Ugh,” Charlene said, rolling her expressive eyes. “And to think I liked you, kid.”
Kevin gave her a scornful look. “You turned your entire family into a bunch of inmates, lady. Charleneland is a frickin’ prison. Can’t you see that? Come on, babe,” he told Marisa. “Let’s get out of here. We can talk in the car.”
“Are you out of your mind? I’m not coming with you, Kevin,” said Marisa.
His face darkened, his fingers tightening on the vicious-looking knife. I had the impression that it wouldn’t take a lot for the unbalanced young man to turn homicidal.
“Why don’t you meet Kevin halfway, honey?” I asked, addressing my sister. “He’s done so much for you—at least you can hear him out.”
Marisa stared at me as if I’d gone off my rocker myself. “What?!”
I gave her an intense look, signaling my intention. She understood.
“Okay. But if I come with you, you have to promise not to hurt my family.”
Kevin’s eyes raked the ceiling. “Who cares about your stupid family!”
“Promise me, Kevin.”
“All right. Fine. I won’t hurt your family. They can enjoy life in prison. Now can we go already? I want to be out of here before the Feds arrive.”
Marisa moved from behind the desk and over to where Kevin stood in the doorway. And as she did, she momentarily blocked Kevin’s view, giving me the chance to pick up the first heavy object I could get my hands on.
Annoyedly, he shoved her out of the way, but too late.
He never saw the computer screen hurtling in his direction until it hit him in the face, knocking him back. Next thing he knew, Leo kicked the knife from his hand and Dylan was straddling his chest, yelling, “Gotcha, scumbag!”
Blane smiled down at Marisa’s ex-boyfriend. “You’re under arrest, Mr. Woods. You’re going to a real prison now. For a very long time, I hope.”
Kevin heaved an exasperated groan, then directed a longing glance at Marisa. “You’ll wait for me, won’t you, babe?”
Blane and Leo pulled Kevin to his feet, and Blane outfitted him with a pair of handcuffs, reciting the man his rights. Marisa started to w
alk away.
“I did this for you, babe. I did this all for you!” Kevin shouted after her.
Marisa paused, turned back, and walked up to Kevin, then slapped him across the face. Hard. “You’re such a jerk, Kevin,” she said, and stalked off.
“Babe?” Kevin asked. “Babe! Come back here! Let’s get married!”
“Ouch,” Charlene commented. “I guess that’s a no on conjugal visits.”
The moment Blane had escorted Kevin from the premises, I turned to Leo. “I’m so sorry, Leo,” I told him.
“What for?” he asked, looking slightly dazed at what had just transpired.
“For suspecting you.”
He shrugged. “You were right. If I were you, I’d have suspected me, too.”
“I never suspected you, darling,” said Charlene, threading her arm through his. “You know that, right?”
He nodded slowly. “Did you mean all that stuff you said yesterday?”
Mom and Dad frowned at this. “Stuff?” Mom mouthed. “What stuff?”
“Of course I meant it,” Charlene said, leading Leo from the room. “Did you think I was fooling around? I think it’s time you and I got better acquainted.” She gave us a wink. “Carnally acquainted, if you know what I mean.”
Judging from the look of shock on my parents’ faces, they knew exactly what she meant.
Chapter 43
Blane and I watched the spectacle unfold from our first-row seats. Today was a glorious day at Charleneland. After weeks of hard work, the park had finally reopened, and so far visitor numbers were through the roof.
It seemed as if Charlene hadn’t lost her audience after all, as many people were anxious to see the new rides and attractions at the remodeled park.
The Body Wrench had been torn down and replaced by the Charlene Cyclone, its bigger, faster and more spectacular successor. And Pirate Lair had been remodeled from the ground up. Gone were the Red Sparrow and the HMS Scarborough. In its stead a new ship had arisen, glittering in the sunlight as it lay at anchor in the lagoon. The ship belonged to Captain Hook, and was the scene of the new and impressively choreographed Neverland show.
The highlight of the new feature was Charlene’s starring role as Tinker Bell. It involved her floating through the air, dangling from a rope, and belting out some of her most famous tunes.
I’d had my doubts about the idea, but had been vetoed by the others, Charlene very keen on the new attraction.
“So how is Kevin doing?” I asked.
Blane smiled. “So far he’s keeping his pants on.”
“He was never a streaker, Blane,” I reminded him. “He just did that to impress my sister.”
“You know they’re calling him the Streaker Bomber?”
“Cute. No, I did not know that.” Nor did I want to know. I was just glad Kevin’s bombing streak hadn’t taken more victims.
I was also glad the whole dreadful business was finally behind us.
All around, the stands were teeming with visitors, having overcome their fear of being targeted by the Streaker Bomber. It was a small miracle that Kevin hadn’t brought about the end of Charleneland, like he’d intended.
A loud drum roll announced that the show was finally about to start, and I couldn’t help grinning like an idiot. This heralded in a new era for Charleneland. An era of unfettered prosperity. At least that’s what Charlene had told us. Maybe she was right. In spite of the fact that she was a little flaky—or a lot flaky—she possessed a certain sagacity about this kind of stuff.
Phoenix, upon learning of our suspicions against her, had finally decided it was time to bury the hatchet. The diva had shown up on our doorstep one morning, a peace offering in hand in the shape of a plan of cooperation.
Instead of fighting each other at every step, she had offered to help us. Charleneland had suffered as a consequence of Kevin’s bombing campaign, and PhoenixWorld had agreed to put some of our staff on its payroll to ease our financial strain, with the possibility of returning to Charleneland once the park was ready to reopen. It had worked out wonderfully for all the families involved. Since then, both parks had started a collaboration that saw us pool our resources in research, development and the creation of new attractions.
“Are you sure this is safe?” asked Blane nervously as he watched Charlene ready herself in the crow’s nest of the Jolly Roger, Captain Hook’s ship.
“I hope so. I’ve tested the ropes myself.”
He looked startled. “You mean you dangled from that rope?”
“Yep.” I patted him on the back. “It’s completely safe. You’re strapped into a safety harness. Like with bungee jumping? Nothing can go wrong.”
He swallowed, showing a startling lack of confidence in our engineers.
The cast had gathered on the Jolly Roger’s deck, and was singing a pleasant tune, scrubbing the boards and praising its captain, who stood twirling his mustache on the ship’s bridge.
“Hey. Isn’t that…”
“Leo. Yep. Charlene offered him the part.”
“Don’t tell me. An offer he couldn’t refuse.”
Suddenly, diving from the mast, Tinker Bell came swooping down and deftly landed next to the captain, then launched into a moving rendition of My Heart Will Go On.
“Why is she singing the theme of Titanic?” asked Blane.
“Um…” Actually I didn’t know. She was supposed to sing one of her own songs, written for this show. Then again, Charlene always did as Charlene wanted. Possibly she felt this song would be better received by the audience.
“I hope this doesn’t mean she’s going to sink the ship,” said Blane anxiously.
“I’m sure it’s just a coincidence.” I wasn’t entirely at ease, though.
While Charlene belted out the song, she was chased around the ship by Leo. Suspended from the harness and rope, though, Charlene easily evaded him. With her full bust practically popping from her décolletage, Charlene was quite possibly the sexiest fairy I’d ever seen, and the most unusual one.
On the other side of the ship, suddenly Peter Pan appeared, springing up as if from a trap.
Blane craned his neck. “Hey! And that’s…”
“Dylan. Yes. When Leo was reinstated he asked if he could have a shot at one of the starring roles in the new show, so we decided to offer it to him.”
“He didn’t like security?”
“To be honest, I think Dylan is sweet on Maya. This way he hopes to impress her with his singing skills. You know, be an artist, just like her.”
Blane shook his head. “The things the men in your family do for their women. Bomb the crap out of this park—share the stage with Charlene…”
I grinned. He was right. The men in my family were a little… eccentric. It probably came with the territory. I slid my arm through Blane’s. “Do you feel challenged, Detective Jamison?”
“If you’re asking me if I’m going to be swinging from the mast or sing a duet with your grandmother, the answer is a categorical no, Miss Rugg.”
“That’s okay,” I said, placing my head on his shoulder. “I like you as a cop.”
We watched as Dylan and my grandmother joined for the final bars of Celine’s famous song, and then Dylan shouted, “I’m the King of the World!”
At this, Tink/Charlene whipped her head around at her partner, a dark scowl on her face. Next thing I knew, she’d kicked Peter/Dylan in the shin.
Losing his balance, he dropped from the ship’s bow and splashed into the lagoon, only to be pulled out again moments later, by the ropes that allowed him to ‘fly.’ He sputtered and spat out water, no longer king of the world.
The crowd roared with laughter and broke into a raucous applause.
Charlene, ever the diva, turned to the stands, smiled, and took a bow.
Next to me, Blane said, “Remind me never to upstage your grandmother.”
The rest of the performance went well, Charlene the center of attention, just the way she liked. I was pretty
sure J. M. Barrie never intended Tink to be the star of his play, but then again, this was Charleneland, where everything revolves around Charlene.
Behind me, Mom leaned forward in her seat. “How do you like it, honey?”
“I love it,” I told her. “Though I don’t know about that Dylan.”
At this, Maya leaned in. “Don’t you dare say anything bad about Dylan. He’s doing the best he can with the crappy lines he was given.”
“I think the kid is doing a pretty decent job,” said Dad.
“I think he stinks,” Marisa commented. “Worst performance ever. If this was The Voice he wouldn’t get a single chair to turn.”
“You take that back!” Maya cried, giving her sister a vicious pinch.
“Ouch! What was that for?!”
“For insulting my boyfriend.”
“Oh, so now he’s your boyfriend, huh?”
“Yes, he is. So you better get used to him hanging around.”
“Girls, girls,” said Mom. “Please try to get along.”
“She started it!” Maya said, stomping her foot.
“No, you started it, by dating that doofus Dylan. Worst singer ever!”
I turned around in my seat, and took both my sisters in an embrace. “I love you guys so much,” I said. They were both shocked into silence for a moment, then hugged me back. I smiled. I’d missed this. I’d missed this normalcy.
And as I sat there with my family, freely commenting on Dylan’s terrible singing chops, and Charlene’s scenery-chewing performance, and Leo’s hideous mustache, I felt a warm glow spread through my chest. For the first time in weeks, I relaxed. The show might bomb, but Charleneland was fine.
And so were we.
THE END
Thanks for reading! If you liked this book, please share the fun by leaving a review!
Sign up for our no-spam newsletter and be the first to know when a new Nic Saint book comes out.
Sign Up
Excerpt from Purrfect Crime (The Mysteries of Max 5)
Prologue
Donna Bruce was a woman profoundly in love with herself. From personal experience she knew there was no other person as amazing as she was. She was smart, successful, beautiful, and, above all, she was kind to humans, children and dogs, which cannot be said about everyone. She was a giver, not a taker. In fact she gave so much she often wondered if people appreciated her enough.
