Kingdom Keepers the Return Book 3

by Ridley Pearson

  Shelby did the squint routine and smiled. “Nice! Double reflection. The glass behind the girl, then a reflection off a window across the street. There’s a popcorn stand with a blond astronaut girl doll cranking the popcorn.”

  Mattie focused the lenses, saw the perfect reflection in the glass behind the Asian girl, then refocused to see the reflection in the next window. There, sure enough, was a faint, tiny blond doll wearing an astronaut’s plastic bubble helmet.

  “You could know that already,” Mattie complained. In fact, she was hugely impressed with Humphrey’s boosting of the girl’s ability.

  “Could I also know,” Shelby said, “that the guy behind the doll is wearing sunglasses and has a short, dark beard?”

  Mattie checked the binoculars. And when she pulled them down from her eyes, Humphrey kissed her on the lips without warning.

  In that nanosecond she was flooded with his thoughts—some of which she would forget as quickly as possible! Most of them she simply filed for later study. She then reached, transferring her thought to him, burying it as quickly as it took for her to lean away.

  “No fair! No warning!” She wiped her lips with her forearm.

  Shelby laughed hard. “He got you!”

  “You would have played coward!” Humphrey said.

  It was true; she’d already been working out a plan to avoid the kiss. “Would not have!”

  “Would, too!”

  “Okay. Okay. So, I believe you. Your ability. It’s impressive. You too,” she said to Shelby, who nodded back at Mattie.

  “We all got what we wanted,” Humphrey said.

  If you only knew, thought Mattie.

  TWO LONG DAYS HAD PASSED. Nearing midnight of the second, and the end of the stakeout’s third shift, Maybeck and Charlene found themselves losing patience. While Charlene kept watch on the old hotel’s side door, Maybeck stood across from the front entrance, reading the evening newspaper.

  POLICE REMAIN BAFFLED IN GHOULISH THEFT, MORGUE CLOSES TEMPORARILY

  TANNER WALTERS

  Anaheim police chief Robert Lawson had few updates on the ongoing investigation into the theft of body parts at the city morgue in Pacific Hospital. The case continues to baffle authorities, he said.

  The city’s district attorney, Francis Slague, meanwhile, received a court order to temporarily close the morgue.

  A source close to the investigation said necessary arrangements are being made through the Jamerson & Whimfeimer Funeral Home while law enforcement officials continue to search for answers.

  The news matched what Wayne had learned from Marty Sklar. The information, plus their raid on the mannequin warehouse, had led the Keepers to divide into two groups. They were rotating surveillance responsibilities, one pair keeping an eye on the funeral home, the other—currently Maybeck and Charlene—watching the abandoned hotel. The remaining two Keepers rested and then rotated in.

  Philby, the odd man out, continued to work with Wayne to extend the range of the DHI holograms to effect the return. They claimed they were making headway. The trick, according to Wayne and Philby, was to find a broadcast platform that could transmit data outside the parks. Once again it was Marty, who knew a guy at an AM radio station in town, who came through. The radio’s transmitter was not used after the station went off the air at midnight: an opportunity.

  And now the midnight hour was fast approaching.

  Lost in his thoughts, Maybeck didn’t notice the police car until it slowed and stopped at the curb next to him. The officer in the passenger seat, a white man, rolled down his window. “Help you, boy? Ain’t I seen you earlier, this same spot?”

  “Just enjoying the fresh air, officer,” said Maybeck, bristling at being called boy.

  “Plenty of fresh air everywhere, son. It’s late. Why don’t you just move along and get on home before there’s trouble.”

  “I’m just appreciating the architecture of the old hotel, sir.”

  “Sure you are, boy. Why don’t you just appreciate it from someplace else?”

  “Because the hotel happens to be there, sir.”

  “You talking fresh with me, boy?” That time there was no mistaking the man’s tone—or his use of the word. Maybeck caught himself as he made a fist.

  “No, sir. I wasn’t aware of any curfew.”

  “I said: move it!”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Watch your mouth with me, boy! And don’t let me catch you back here, you hear? You stick to the orange groves and shoe shining with the Mexicans and the other coloreds.”

  “Excuse me?” Now both fists were clenched.

  “You got ears, boy? You need to be told things twice? My partner here…we got nothing to do. You want us to bring you in and teach you about listening?” He checked with the driver. “We are more than happy to oblige.”

  Maybeck had read about the 1950s in America, how African Americans—“coloreds”—had suffered racism and prejudice across the country, including in Los Angeles. He’d seen it depicted in plenty of movies and TV shows. But it was completely different when the words you’d read about were being said to you by some blotchy-skinned former high school football team bully.

  “First of all, as to the teaching part: you two, and who else?” The policeman didn’t like that one bit. He and the driver exchanged a long, meaningful look. “Second, I don’t mean any trouble, and I will gladly move on, but, third, I have the patrol car’s license plate memorized and your badge number.”

  “And fourth,” came a girl’s voice. Charlene! She approached the passenger window with the walk of a fashion model. There were times she could look thirteen, and others, more like twenty. This was one of the latter. “My friend and I have the utmost respect for men in uniform.” She didn’t even sound like Charlene, her voice all buttery and soft. “It’s just a little school project, that’s all. We mean no harm. But if you two come around later, I for one certainly won’t complain. On the other hand, if my friend leaves, then I have to leave, too, and I won’t be here when you return. And that would be a crying shame.”

  “You’re with him?” the policeman asked.

  Charlene measured her audience. “I don’t appreciate the way you phrased that, officer. Do I look like I’m with him? Please! But as to the school project, yes, very much so.” The Kingdom Keepers had been using the school project excuse for years. Charlene felt entirely comfortable in guessing Maybeck had used it. “I believe they’re calling it integration.”

  The policeman stared at her too hard. She felt sick. “Please,” she said.

  The dashboard radio spit static. A woman’s nasally voice blared from the small speaker, “Calling all cars. Three-Adam-Two requests backup in pursuit of two male suspects on foot, currently heading north on North Lemon Street in the vicinity of La Palma.”

  “We won’t be long.” The policeman grabbed for the radio microphone and rolled up his window. The car drove off. Charlene released a deep sigh.

  “That was not fun,” Maybeck said.

  “Which part?” she asked. “The police, or the fact that I saved you?”

  “I had it handled.”

  “Sure you did.”

  “Maybe I should take the alley for a while.”

  “You think? I’ll be right here.”

  Maybeck crossed the street and turned the corner into the alley. Less than a second passed before he jumped around the corner once again. He pointed and mouthed silently for Charlene. She couldn’t read his lips, had no idea what was going on.

  Seeing her confusion, Maybeck raised index fingers on either side of his head; he was either mimicking an alien or…the devil…or…

  It took a moment to figure it out, and once she did, she nearly screamed. Villains! Overtakers!

  FIVE MINUTES EARLIER, Willa and Jess had occupied two park swings across the street from the Jamerson & Whimfeimer Funeral Home, a sprawling Colonial with white clapboard siding and gleaming black trim. A full half of the building was surrounded by a wrapar
ound porch. Four brick chimneys pointed into the glowing sky.

  “One hour and we’re on rest. We can finally sleep,” Willa said.

  Neither girl was swinging, just sitting there, the toes of their shoes dug into the soil below. Nighttime insects and frogs threw up a chorus of chirps and cheeps, the sound so loud and so close at times that it made both girls uncomfortable. “What a day! Between watching the hotel and here it’s like we never get a rest.”

  “Don’t remind me. Bor…ing!” Jess said.

  “Hey!” Willa said in sharp whisper.

  Across the street, two slender guys, who from a distance looked about the girls’ age, appeared out of some tall bushes alongside the funeral home.

  “Look!” Willa pointed down the street to a slow-moving police car.

  When the two guys saw the police car, they took off running. The police car sped up, racing past the park. It traveled a full block before skidding to the curb, a solo red light flashing atop its roof. A policeman jumped out and took off on foot; the patrol car’s red light continued to flash.

  “Oh no,” Jess said. “That doesn’t look good!”

  “I know.” Willa found it hard to take her eyes off the police car’s flashing light. “They came out right by the funeral place.”

  “Not that, Willa!” Jess said. “Over there.”

  She was pointing to a long, fancy black car parked on a side street. It was almost directly across from them. Two men, nearly indistinguishable in the dark, came out of the curbside back door. One was hefty, in long pants and a polo. The other wore a sport jacket. They moved up a driveway, headed for the back area of the funeral home.

  “What the hayseed?” Willa said, exasperated. “What’s that about?”

  “That’s called a diversionary tactic,” Jess said. “Those two guys coming out of the bushes? Their job was to make sure the policeman followed them. That way these other two—”

  “Know the cops are busy.”

  “Bingo!” Jess said. “And I’m probably wrong about this, but the thicker guy looks like a guy we called the Dogcatcher. If that’s who it is, he’s one of Hollingsworth’s guys, and he’s no one to mess with.”

  “If two Hollingsworth guys are breaking into the funeral home,” Willa said, pointing to the back of the building, “this can’t be good. Reminds me of the graveyard and the morgue robberies.”

  “We’re supposed to get a good look at them and remember every last detail.” Philby held out hope that Jess might be able force a dream, but Jess wasn’t optimistic. “But let’s not forget: there’s also a driver in the car.”

  “Yeah.” Willa paused, working out a plan. Jess could practically see the gears in her brain turning. “How about this: we take off together like it’s nearly curfew and we’ve got to get home. Once we’re out of sight, we cut around the building and get a better look at the back door and whoever comes out.”

  “That works for me,” Jess said. “Philby didn’t want us going inside.”

  “Thank goodness for that! You ready? We’re going to act casual, just two adorable girls heading home for the night.”

  “Wish we were.”

  “Adorable or heading home?” Jess asked.

  “Take your pick,” said Willa.

  * * *

  “Did you see her face?” Charlene asked. “The woman who was just escorted out of there?” She and Maybeck held fast to the corner at the alley.

  “Not exactly,” Maybeck said.

  Charlene was incensed. “Because you were too busy hoping her robe would fall off.”

  “Was not! But I kinda don’t think she’s wearing much else.”

  “She’s not. Nothing else.” Charlene’s eyes flashed in the dark. “That’s Lady Tremaine, you blockhead! And you can bet her two escorts are bad people.”

  “The Lady Tremaine? As in the evil stepmom from Cinderella? Are you kidding me?”

  “They’re putting her in that truck.” It looked like an ice-cream truck, with a forward cab and a big square box stretching over the rear axle. Painted sea green, with no distinguishing marks, it was the kind of truck that wouldn’t be noticed or remembered. And at any moment, Lady Tremaine would be riding in the back with two nasty Cast Members—who probably weren’t Cast Members at all.

  “We’ll take it from here.” Finn’s voice caused Maybeck to jump.

  “Sheesh! Don’t do that!” Maybeck complained. “You can’t sneak up like that, dude!”

  “It’s Amanda’s and my shift. You two rotate to the funeral home.”

  “No way! This just got interesting!” Charlene said hotly.

  “You mind?” Finn took her place, peering around the corner and down the alley. “They’re putting her inside, all right. Too far to see her face.”

  “Yeah? Well, I saw her face,” Charlene said, “and it was Lady Tremaine.”

  “That can’t be, right?” Amanda asked. “I mean, it could be a Cast Member or something.”

  “If she’s a Cast Member, I’m the Black Widow!” Charlene’s excitement tested the limits of what might be considered a reasonable volume for spies. Finn shushed her softly.

  “I’ll tell you what,” he said, addressing Maybeck. “If you and Charlene can wait around, Mandy and I will check it out.”

  “But you can’t cross over out here. You’ll be vulnerable. Granted, I know Philby and Wayne are trying that radio station test tonight, but that’s later. At the very least, we should wait till then.”

  Finn blinked. He didn’t think of Maybeck as a guy who waited—but here he was, showing measured caution.

  “This is our gig, our assignment,” Charlene said. Again, her voice rose to a complaining pitch. “We should be the ones to go in there. We were here when all this went down.”

  “I’ve been inside the hotel more than anyone,” Finn countered, “and Amanda lives there—in sixty years, but still. Besides, there’s no better defense than having Amanda with me to push. We’ll check it out and report back, and then we can all decide who does what next.”

  “And we leave Willa and Jess hanging,” Maybeck pointed out.

  “You’ll be a few minutes late at most,” Finn said. “Amanda and I are not planning to hang around in there. We’ll be in and out.”

  “And if you’re not?” an irritated Charlene asked. “What then?”

  A LARGE STEEL BIN stenciled with the name DEMPSTER DUMPSTER occupied the back corner of the funeral home’s parking lot. It provided excellent cover for Jess and Willa, as it allowed views of both the facility’s back door and the side of the building.

  “We should call the police,” Jess said.

  “Using what, exactly?”

  “Oh, yeah. I forgot. No cell phones.”

  Willa was quiet for a moment. “There must be a phone inside.”

  “Hollingsworth’s guys are in there,” Jess said.

  “To break off more fingers. Just like the cemetery and morgue.”

  “So creepy. FYI: we are not going in there.”

  “We aren’t, but I could. I could find a phone and call the cops.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “I’m not. Let’s say it’s Finn and Maybeck here, not us. What are they going to do?”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “Of course it’s the point! If I—”

  “We…”

  “Call the police, and they catch those guys in the act, that’s called evidence. Please note: there are no phones out here.”

  “There must be a pay phone somewhere.”

  “And you have some change in your pocket, do you?”

  “What is it with 1955? Nothing works!” Jess couldn’t look at Willa.

  “You don’t go in with me! I need a lookout. You see that piece of wood behind that wheel?” She pointed to the nearest Dumpster wheel, which was held in place with a small chunk of wood. “Anything strange happens out here, pull it away and push the Dumpster. Believe me, I’ll hear it rolling! It’ll sound like a freight tr
ain.”

  Jess nodded. “I don’t like you going in alone.”

  “Just give me five minutes in there. Count to three hundred or something. If I’m not out by then, roll the Dumpster and head around with a view of the front.”

  “Why the front?”

  “The Dumpster will get the driver out of the car. I’d rather not run into him.”

  Jess nodded. Her eyes were wide. She looked frightened. “Five minutes. Got it.”

  “Starting now,” Willa said, crouching and aiming for the shadowed wall of the funeral home.

  THE FIRST TIME FINN had walked through the alley entrance to the hotel, he’d been met with the smell of urine, the sight of litter, and the sounds of voices looming from somewhere within. That had been sixty years in the future from his current attempt, explaining why the paint on the door looked richer, and the smell was more tolerable.

  He briefly considered taking the stairs, which had once led him to the lair of the Overtaker Kids posing as Cast Members.

  “Where are we going?” Amanda asked, reading his mind as always. He appreciated their connection more than ever; she knew what he was thinking before he did.

  “There’s a hotel dining room, ground floor,” he said. “It was, is, a dinner theater—you watch a play while you eat dinner. I can see a room like that having a projector. Can’t think of where else.”

  “It’s a start.”

  That was the other thing he loved about Amanda: her encouragement. They could be standing together on a twentieth floor, about to jump to their deaths, and she would say something about the view, or how she’d always wanted to fly. She seemed to have an inexhaustible supply of optimism.

  “It’s this way.” Finn used his knowledge of the hotel as an excuse to hold her hand and lead her down a series of dusty hallways, through swinging doors, and into the lobby, which was stuffed with Victorian armchairs, sofas, and an abundance of red velvet.

  Amanda whispered close to his ear, “It looks exactly like the lobby in Tower of Terror! I can’t believe it!”

  Finn nodded. “That’s because it will be, a long time from now.” He nodded across the open space. “Dining room’s that way.”