The phantom revealed a large hunting knife. Marlene let out a terrified gasp and attempted to rock the chair. Before the chair toppled, the phantom grabbed her by the throat and held her immobile. She gasped and wheezed beneath his gloved hand. He plunged the knife forward into her abdomen. Marlene muffled a painful cry. He pulled the knife free allowing her blood to pour out and saturate her shirt. Marlene gasped for several minutes while the phantom stood over her and watched her bleed out. Her eyes finally rolled back as she exhaled her last breath.
Chapter Thirty-eight
Devon hurried through the displays and nervously looked at her watch. It was Saturday morning, and she was late for the first time since she started working at the museum. She stopped and stared at the newest display with a werewolf. The woman within the display was caked with makeup. Her brown wig needed more work, and the clothes were wrong for the time-period. Devon rolled her eyes and continued toward the workshop. She entered the workshop and stopped within the doorway. Brant sat on his stool before a wax woman and painted her fingernails. He looked like a manicurist in a nail salon. Devon smiled warmly and approached.
“Thank goodness you’re back,” she announced. “Sorry, I’m late.”
Brant glanced at her briefly and smiled. “And not a moment too soon. I didn’t know Tyler had you working this morning.”
“I didn’t think you were coming back until this afternoon.”
“Actually, I was back last night,” Brant informed her. “I’d spent half the night working on some displays.” He gently cleared his throat. “I see Tyler was busy with some waxworks of his own.”
“Yes. He thinks he’s found his calling,” she teased. “What would you like me to do this morning?”
“Repair Tyler’s creations before they make me physically ill,” he announced then reluctantly sighed. “But we’ll wait until he leaves. Afterward, we can finish restoring our zombie flood victims and return them to their display.”
Devon couldn’t deny she was slightly tense to see Brant again. She could almost feel the tension between them, particularly with the way Brant didn’t look at her. She didn’t want to bring up the beach house party in hopes Brant would eventually say something. The longer they remained in the room together without him mentioning it, the more she realized he was trying to forget about an uncomfortable moment.
§
Devon rolled a wax woman strapped to a dolly into the werewolf display. The werewolf display was a creepy wooded scene with small hills, rocks, and fake trees. It made the dolly harder to push with her wax reconstructed woman. The frightening werewolf was already set up in an attacking position with large teeth exposed. As Devon rolled the werewolf’s victim closer to the creature, she was chilled at the sight. The teeth and snout were stained with fake blood from the victim already on the ground not far from where she was to place the new victim. Devon looked from the sharp, bloodstained teeth to the mildly torn victim on the ground. The wax woman had her throat ripped out with enough fake blood to make Devon nauseous.
It wasn’t her place, but she felt the kills should be less gruesome. Parents might complain about the gory detail Brant seemed able to bring to life with makeup and paint. She arranged the newly arrived victim in her place before adjusting her dress and hair. She patted the woman on the shoulder.
“Good luck,” Devon announced under her breath to the wax woman.
She was about to push the dolly from the display when she gave the victim on the ground another glance. Her wounds were extremely realistic and beyond chilling. It was almost too much. Devon crouched alongside the dying wax woman and studied the torn flesh. The blood almost looked wet. Devon held her breath and reached out to touch it. Blood suddenly spurt from her neck. Devon cried out and fell onto her backside. She heard Ross laughing. She looked across the display and saw her friend with the remote control.
He gave her a serious look and pointed a warning finger. “The sign says do not touch the displays,” he threatened.
She glared at him and sprang to her feet. “What if I touched the dickhead who created the display?” Devon lashed out.
Ross raised his brows. “That sounds like sexual harassment to me,” he announced. “Although it’s possible Brant might enjoy it.”
She shook her head in disgust and brushed the fake dirt from her lab coat and pants. “Payback is a bitch Ross,” Devon informed him.
“I look forward to it,” he announced then laughed evilly. He blew her a kiss and ran from the display before she could chase him.
§
An hour later, Brant kneeled beside the grave in the cemetery display and fixed the clothing on the female zombie sticking out of the ground. He sat back and gave the wig an added toss. Just then, he heard a low, creepy moan. A zombie appeared above the tombstone near him. Brant jumped with surprise and fell onto his backside. He stared at the zombie then looked behind him. Devon stood near the doorway holding the remote control. She laughed at his expense. Brant stood while hiding his smile and brushed off the fake dirt.
“I suppose I deserved that.”
Devon approached Brant and looked at the female zombie. The zombie wore an old flowered dress with a lacy collar.
“Are you seriously going to leave her dressed in this?” Devon asked.
Brant eyed the zombie with some surprise. “Yeah, why not?”
“Looks like something my mother would wear,” she retorted.
Brant studied the wax woman a moment longer then frowned. “Yeah, mine too. You’re right. It goes.” Brant unbuttoned the zombie’s dress while shaking his head. “I’ve undressed more women today--”
Devon moved closer and watched him fumble with the tiny buttons. Brant glanced at her and appeared slightly embarrassed.
“That sounded bad,” he muttered.
Devon handed him the remote, which he placed in his jacket pocket. She watched him a moment longer then shifted uncomfortably at the obvious tension while she was in the room.
“I was hoping we could talk about the other night,” Devon announced timidly.
Brant avoided looking at her while fumbling with the dress. Although he acted casual, he was extremely tense. “Okay,” he remarked timidly.
Devon continued to watch him work. She placed her hand on his and stopped him from working on the buttons. He hesitated and met her serious gaze.
“There’s a tremendous amount of tension between us since the party,” she informed him. “You have to be feeling it too.”
Brant immediately fidgeted and became flustered. “I’m sorry about what happened on the beach,” he blurted out his apology as if it had been weighing heavily upon him. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, especially after what happened at your father’s ranch. I was stupid and impulsive. Please don’t quit.”
His rambling apology surprised her. She stared at him a moment longer while holding her breath.
“I don’t want you to apologize, Brant,” she gently informed him.
She became uncomfortable and stared at him a long moment, unable to express herself. Brant stared back in silence as if attempting to read her expression. Devon forced a smile and waved him off.
“Never mind,” she remarked timidly. “It’s not that important.”
Brant caught her hand, forcing her to stop and face him. They stared into each other’s eyes a long moment. Brant took an aggressive step toward her, pulled her against him, and kissed her passionately. Devon appeared surprised but quickly relaxed and returned the kiss before he had a chance to reconsider. Brant broke off the kiss and pulled away while looking into her eyes.
“I’m really bad at reading women,” he replied timidly. “Was that the correct response?”
Devon smiled with embarrassment and nodded. Brant’s smile brightened. He kissed her again and with more urgency. She clung to him and returned the kiss, barely able to contain her rising passion. They heard someone approaching and immediately jumped apart. Devon was becoming tired of people interrupt
ing her brief romantic moments. Brant returned to the female zombie and continued with the dress. Devon grabbed a hair pick, turned to one of the male zombies, and pretended to be working.
Tyler entered the cemetery set while smiling cheerfully. “Ah, here you are.”
“Hey, Tyler,” Brant announced while attempting a casual appearance, although he was breathing heavier than usual.
“I’m only going to stay for a couple of hours,” Tyler informed him. “I have some business to attend to in the city. I think I have a line on some wax people from another closed museum.”
“That’s great.”
“Yeah, well, I’ll be here until five o’clock,” Tyler replied and sighed as if bored. “I have a project I’d like to finish.”
Tyler disappeared from the display. Both watched him leave then looked at each other from across the room. Brant approached Devon. She smiled and tossed the hair pick over her shoulder. Brant once more pulled her into his arms and kissed her. Tyler was heard within one of the nearby sets. Devon broke off the kiss and smiled with embarrassment.
“I, uh, was thinking,” she announced timidly, “maybe I could come back tonight to finish my shift. Ross has the night off, and you could probably use the help.”
Brant stared into her eyes and gently brushed the hair from her face. A sly smile crossed his face. “I was thinking about working late myself.”
Devon slowly moved out of his arms, although both were reluctant to release the other.
“I’ll be back around six,” she gently informed him while offering a warm smile.
“I’ll see you then,” he responded timidly.
Chapter Thirty-nine
Devon entered the dimly lit museum at five-thirty that evening and paused in the foyer. There were rose petals sporadically lining the walkway leading into the displays. Devon contained her eager smile and followed the petals through the museum. They continued down the dungeon stairs, scattered along the stone steps leading into the dungeon. Devon was overwhelmed with desire as she followed the rose petals through the horror displays and finally to the church display with its fake candles flickering their romantic glow. Brant was playing out their fantasy, and she had no intention to disappoint him. Devon paused just inside the display and took a moment to nervously adjust her hair as her heart pounded with anticipation of her first time.
As she crossed the church display, she saw a red, satin comforter spread out over the altar. A bottle of champagne chilled in an ice bucket on the edge of the altar along with two crystal glasses. A dozen long-stemmed, red roses were tied with a red ribbon and lay on the altar alongside the champagne flutes. Devon couldn’t contain her childlike grin. She was swept away by the romantic gesture. She walked toward the altar with nervous anticipation then stopped when she saw Brant lying on the floor on the other side of the altar. Something felt wrong. She quickened her pace, stepped around the altar, and saw blood soaking through Brant’s white lab coat as his bloodied hand clutched his bleeding abdomen. He wasn’t moving! Devon stared frozen with horror then cried out as she ran for him.
§
The city hospital was moderately congested with mostly minor medical emergencies. Sprains and lacerations seemed to be the early evening theme. The waiting room was nearly filled with crying children and farmers who’d had disagreements with farm machinery. Martin held Devon to his shoulder where they sat in the waiting room and watched nurses and doctors pass in the hospital corridor. A doctor finally stepped out of the emergency room and approached them. Martin nudged Devon. She straightened, resisted springing to her feet, and looked at the doctor. She feared if she stood and received bad news her legs would give out beneath her.
“Your friend’s going to be fine,” the doctor announced with a warm, tender smile.
Devon’s eyes shut as she gasped a sigh of relief. Martin gave her a warm hug.
“Thankfully, the knife went in on a slant.” The doctor held up the bloodstained remote control contained in a plastic bag. “Apparently hitting this first. Probably saved his life. He had it in his lab coat pocket.”
Devon had never been so relieved to see that damned remote control. Martin released her as she stood on slightly weak legs.
“Can I see him?”
“We’ll be moving him up to ICU in a few minutes,” the doctor informed her, “but you can visit him before he’s transferred. I must warn you; he’s going to be groggy from the anesthetic and painkillers.”
Devon nodded with understanding then followed the doctor into the emergency treatment room. He led her to one of the rooms and indicated the closed door. As the doctor walked away, Devon slowly opened the door and stepped into the room. Brant was motionless on the emergency room gurney with oxygen and IV lines sticking out of his arm. She approached, paused alongside the gurney, and gently touched his hand.
“Brant?”
Brant’s eyes rolled open then closed. He squeezed her hand and smiled. “Devon,” he gasped. “I had the worst dream.”
“Everything’s going to be fine,” she gently assured him and sat on the edge of the gurney. “You’ll feel better in a couple of days.”
Brant closed his eyes. “I dreamt the phantom tried to kill me.”
She stared at him with surprise. “The phantom?”
§
The sun was setting over the old farmhouse. Blue and red lights flashed from the sheriff’s police cruiser while Sheriff Carter stood before the burned red sports car. There was still enough left of the vehicle to recognize it as Jamie’s car.
Sheriff Carter shook his head with anger clearly on his face. “What the hell is going on in this town?” he demanded.
Deputy Havens approached with a crowbar in his hand and eyed the sheriff. “Want me to pop the trunk?”
Sheriff Carter reluctantly nodded. “May as well,” he announced with a sigh. “I know it won’t be good, so let’s get the unpleasantness over with.”
He followed his deputy to the burned car and watched as he easily forced the trunk open with the crowbar. Both peered into the blackened trunk and stared at what was almost certainly the remains of a body. The body was so badly burned, there was little left beyond bone and some particles of flesh. Deputy Havens grimaced and looked away while Sheriff Carter just frowned.
“Yep,” he announced with a sigh. “About what I expected.”
“Do you know who it is?” Deputy Havens asked while casting peeks at the gruesome find.
“I’m pretty sure that’s Joe Jarred,” Sheriff Carter replied. “Stan called and said he was concerned when Joe didn’t show up Friday night. He left the tavern early on Thursday. Well, early for him.” The sheriff looked around then indicated the barn. “Paula was found dead in the barn, so I’m almost positive that’s her brother.”
“I’ll call the coroner,” Deputy Havens announced and hurried to the cruiser to get away from the gruesome scene in the trunk.
Chapter Forty
Monday morning. Ross’ clunker of a car was parked in front of the museum, being the only vehicle in the parking lot. Within the basement, Devon followed Ross around the werewolf set while he attempted to work. Devon had little interest in working that morning as her nerves were already frayed beyond repair. Ross refused to look at her and appeared unusually tense while working on the display.
“I’m telling you, Ross,” she insisted. “He said the phantom attacked him.”
“And now he doesn’t remember a thing,” Ross announced while casting a look at her. “I don’t think you can rely on what he’d said after coming out of surgery. The guy was on cloud nine.”
“Why won’t you believe what I’m telling you?” she demanded.
“Because it already looks like an inside job. The police don’t need any more help pointing the finger at one of us,” Ross insisted then finally turned to face her. “But, of course, you’re not worried, because you came to the museum for a romantic rendezvous. They’d never suspect you.”
“I’m just as much
a suspect as anyone,” she insisted. “They could easily think I planted the entire thing after the fact.”
“They’ll discover Brant purchased the flowers himself just a few hours earlier,” Ross informed her. “Face it; you’re completely exonerated.”
“They’ll go after Tyler’s alibi first,” she insisted. “He’s his business partner.”
“He also has an alibi,” Ross interjected with some annoyance. “He left early, picked up a female companion at four o’clock, and drove with her to the city. They were in each other’s company the entire evening. Sheriff Carter says Brant was stabbed no earlier than five o’clock.” He eyed her. “You probably just missed the killer on your way in. Any earlier and you would have been a witness; possibly a dead one.”
“You must have been somewhere between five and five-thirty.”
“Yeah, I took my motorcycle out for a ride along the coast,” he informed her. “I was gone from three until six o’clock with no witnesses. Plenty of time for me to have come here and stabbed Brant.”
“Stop being so dramatic,” she announced. “You have absolutely no motive to want Brant dead.”
“I’m sure they’d come up with something if they tried hard enough,” Ross remarked.
“Anyone in the basement could’ve taken the mask and cloak from the wardrobe closet,” she reminded him. “Aren’t there multiple costumes?”
“Yeah,” Ross remarked while raising his brows. “And we’re suddenly lite two.”
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