by Cindy Brown
But had they left? When I saw them, Arrestadt was pulling Candy backstage, not toward the lobby and the public exit. Had he panicked and taken her back to the hotel? I didn’t know. All I knew was if I wanted to rescue my friend, I needed to do it fast.
“Ivy!” Logan burst through my dressing door, followed by Eden, Madison and Desirée. “What the hell is going on? You can’t just take off after accusing people of murder and kidnapping.”
“You’re right. And I think I need you—Candy needs you. Needs us.”
“Is this your way of saying, ‘Sorry, Logan, for telling everyone you’re a murderer’?”
“Yeah. Sure.”
“Nice.” Logan turned to Eden. “Don’t you think I deserve an apolo—”
“No time for that,” I interrupted. “We need a plan.”
“A plan to do what?” asked Madison.
“To get Candy away from Arrestadt.”
“Arrestadt?” said Logan. “Are you sure it’s him?
“Yes. Aflooey!” Damn, thought I was done with that dang cold. “I saw him tonight, with Candy. He was dressed as—”
“The Phantom of the Opera,” said Logan. “I did his makeup for him. Hey, did he see Pepper’s Ghost?”
“No. He dragged Candy out when I was still on the silks. And—”
“Damn. He promised.”
“Let’s get back to the kidnapping and murder,” I said.
“I didn’t know for sure,” Desirée spoke hesitantly, “but I suspected Arrestadt might have something to do with Babette’s death. I think she was blackmailing him. She has a reputation for that, you know. She’d supposedly find the dirt on important people and hold it over them. Word is that’s how she got her TV show.”
“That would explain why she kept showing up on Arrestadt’s film sets, and at his shows,” said Eden. “She was showing him that she was always there, just waiting for a chance to tell the world what she knew.”
“Which was?” I asked. “What dirt did she have?”
“Tell them what you found, honey,” Desirée said to Madison.
“But we thought I had it all wrong, right?” Madison looked from her mom to me and back again. “That’s why we never said anything.”
“We might have been wrong about that.”
Madison frowned. “I saw a note from Arrestadt to one of the girl munchkins. It was...mushy.”
“I thought it must really be a note to Candace,” Desirée said quietly. “The munchkin actress is only fourteen.”
“Yikes,” I said. “Eden...did you know?”
“A fourteen-year-old? God no, I didn’t know.” She pursed her lips. “But...it doesn’t totally surprise me. I don’t think he necessarily has a thing for young girls: it would be the power he’d have over someone that age. Unfortunately, I can see the kidnapping too. One of the reasons I broke up with Arrestadt—”
“You broke up with him?” I asked.
Eden put her hand on her hips. “I know everyone thinks he dumped me for Candace. Why would someone like me break up with a wealthy, handsome, famous director?”
“Sorry,” I said. “Go on.”
“I loved Arrestadt, but he was incredibly controlling. He wanted me all to himself: started isolating me from my friends, not letting me see people by myself, throwing jealous fits over texts and email, stuff like that.”
“So...Arrestadt kidnapped Candy and probably killed Babette. I wouldn’t be surprised if he locked me in the spring room, loosened the clamp on my bubble too. Did he know that the other accidents were caused by you guys?”
“I don’t think so,” said Logan. “He was actually kind of spooked. Kept saying he didn’t like working in a haunted theater. Never could get him to come down to my Nightmare, even though I built a lot of it for him.” I must’ve looked puzzled, because he said, “Arrestadt’s filming The Haunting of Pill House next year.”
“The classic horror story set in a pharmaceutical lab,” Eden said.
“I’ve been trying to catch his eye, get hired on in props or makeup,” said Logan. “That was, uh, one of the ways Babette was going to help me. I can’t believe he didn’t even see Pepper’s Ghost.” He sagged a little.
“I don’t know how Arrestadt will ever get through filming that movie,” said Eden. “He was scared to even come to the séance.”
I remembered his white face when he thought he heard the Lady singing in my dressing room, the choking on “a ladyfinger” at the Friends of The Grand Phoenician reception, the incident with the ghost light.
“He’s really superstitious,” Eden continued. “Remember when he was all set to film The Turn of the Shrew and then backed out? He said it was personal reasons, but it was because a spirit came to him in his dreams and told him it would be dangerous for him.”
A fuzzy plan was forming in my head. “So he believes in ghosts?”
“Definitely,” Eden said.
“Good.” The fuzz in my mind solidified into a real plan. A crazy plan, maybe a dangerous one, but the only plan I could come up with at short notice. “I’m going to need all of your help.”
“‘I saw you tonight,’” Logan said out loud as he texted. “‘You looked beautifu—’”
“Say ‘good enough to eat,’” said Madison. “It’s sexier.”
Desirée shook her head. “They grow up so fast.”
Logan deleted a few characters. “‘Good enough to eat. Have to see you again. Meet me—’”
“No. Better. He needs to be really jealous,” said Eden.
“How about ‘Ditch your boyfriend’—” I began.
“‘Again.’ Ditch your boyfriend again,” Eden suggested.
“Ooh, nice,” I said.
“I am sure getting an education tonight,” Logan said, typing on his phone. “‘Ditch your boyfriend again and meet me in the speakeasy in an hour.’”
“Arrestadt knows where the speakeasy is?” I asked.
“Yeah,” said Logan. “He was supposed to come see my studio. I emailed him directions, from the theater and the hotel.”
“And you’re pretty sure he’ll come in Candy’s place?” I asked Eden.
“I’m positive. He’ll go crazy when he sees that text. He’ll have to see who sent it and put a stop to whatever’s happening.”
“Which means he might be dangerous. Logan, you sure you want to go through with this?”
“Yeah. I, uh, want to make up for some of what happened.” He scuffed a shined shoe on the floor. “I just wanted to be famous. I never meant to hurt anyone.”
“We know.” Eden placed a hand on his arm.
“All right,” I said. “Go for it.”
Logan pressed a button on his phone. “Sent.”
“Okay. Eden, once you get out of costume, you watch the front door of the hotel to make sure Arrestadt doesn’t try to leave that way.”
“What about the other doors?” she asked.
I fumbled in my duffel bag for my wallet and took two fifties from my ghost photo stash. “I saw a couple of the techies at the Erotic Art Fest. Ask them to watch the other doors.” I tore the bills in half. “Just give them one half of each bill until this is over.”
“Desirée and Madison, you watch Arrestadt’s room—it’s 427. Make sure he doesn’t see you. When he comes out, wait ’til he’s been gone a minute or two, until he’s out of hearing range, then shout bloody murder. When people come to find out what’s going on, tell them you heard a woman screaming in his room. Stay hysterical, so they have to open the door. Then get Candy out of there.” I remembered the slow-motion way Candy had looked at me earlier. “It could take some doing. I think she may be drugged.”
Chapter 70
Into That Pit of Darkness
“This isn’t going to work. This has to work. This isn’t going to work. This has to work.�
�
“Are you talking to yourself?” Logan popped a flash drive into the desktop computer in his office. “If you are, you’d better get it out of your system now. If Arrestadt hears you in the speakeasy, the jig is up, as they say.”
“I’ll be quiet as a mouse,” I said. “Except when I’m performing.”
He pressed a few keys on his computer and pulled the drive out. “Ready to roll,” he said. “To quote our new favorite ghost.”
We slipped quietly down the hall, through the broom closet, and into the passageway to Logan’s Nightmare. “This is going to be fun,” he said.
“Fun?”
“You know, reversing roles: me acting, you doing tech.”
“You do realize we’re trying to catch a killer, right?”
“Yeah. Like I said. Fun.”
We’d reached the entrance to the speakeasy/Nightmare. In the darkness it looked like a cave in some evil underworld. A chill crept through me. It wasn’t caused by the dank basement air or the proximity to the Lady’s well or even by the real skeleton in the corner of the room (what was that doing here?). No. What scared me the most was if our plan didn’t work, I’d probably never see Candy again.
Logan checked his watch. “We have fifteen minutes to set this up. Let’s hope Arrestadt doesn’t come early.”
We set our trap in the dark, working silently by the light of mini flashlights we held in our mouths. A few minutes before the appointed time, we took our places. Logan stood in front of the speakeasy. I hid behind the open door in the corner of the Nightmare, the one that led to the small hallway with the spring room.
Footsteps, coming near. I tried to quiet my breathing. One of my nostrils whistled. Stupid cold. I breathed through my mouth instead.
The footsteps were nearer. Wait, were there...Shit, there was more than one person coming. Arrestadt must have brought Candy with him. Could Logan tell? I clutched the remote controls I held. I should have accounted for this in our plan, I should have—
“Hello?” Candy’s voice, weak. A shush of fabric against the floor. Was she still dressed in her ball gown? I couldn’t see from my position.
“Finally,” said Logan, improvising on the plan we’d brainstormed. Maybe this would work even better. Maybe we could somehow snatch Candy. “I’ve been dying to see you,” said Logan. “Did you have a hard time getting away from—”
“She had a very hard time.” Arrestadt’s voice. “Too hard, in fact.” A flashlight swept the slice of room I could see from my hiding place. “What is all this?” His voice trembled.
“Um, it’s my prop studio.”
“Of course.” Arrestadt sounded relieved. “Just props.”
“Yeah, I’m a horror artist—Hey, hey, hey. No need for that knife.”
Omigod, a knife?
“Don’t worry.” Arrestadt’s voice had regained its confidence. “I won’t cut her pretty little throat.”
Oh no. We’d figured Arrestadt would come down and tell Logan to get lost. We’d planned for the possibility of a weapon, but not for Candy as hostage. Oh no, oh no, oh no.
“All I want to do is keep her safe,” said Arrestadt. “In fact...” I heard something creak. “This seems like a safe place for now.”
“No,” said Candy. “I’m not getting in there.”
“You are,” said Arrestadt.
“Do what he says,” said Logan. “That knife looks sharp.”
Fumbling noises, another creak, then a slam. A lid coming down.
“Don’t worry.” Logan’s voice shook. “The coffin has air holes.”
I thought of Candy trapped in the confines of the dark box. I couldn’t breathe.
“You being a theater person,” said Arrestadt, “I’d think you’d appreciate this dramatic representation of what will happen to Candy if you persist. Or if you go to the police. Or if you do, well, anything.”
“But I thought you loved Candy. Why would you kill her?”
“I didn’t say I would kill her. I’d just keep her safely locked away. The size of the space where she stays is up to you, and her.”
“You’d keep her in a coffin?”
A muffled scream. Candy, inside the coffin. Please God, let this work.
“It’s up to you,” Arrestadt said.
“Um. Wow. Yeah...”
Come on, Logan, I silently swore. Get back on track. Be an actor.
“Sorry, Arrestadt,” said Logan. Phew, the beginning of the line that was my cue. My hands were sweaty around the remotes. “About Candy, I mean. I won’t say a thing. And don’t worry about us, me and her.” Almost there. “It was just a fling.”
I pressed one of the remotes. A ghostly light filled the doorway in front of me.
“Hey. What? Eyyaaaahh!” Logan screamed. His footsteps echoed as he ran down the passageway, as planned.
Babette’s ghost flickered in the doorway in front of me, courtesy of Logan’s video and the projector I’d turned on. “Arrestadt,” I said in Babette’s voice. “Why?”
This was the time of reckoning. Arrestadt might run away, in which case Logan, who was hiding in an alcove, would trip him. But if Arrestadt thought the ghost was a fake, or if he was freaked out by guilt, we thought he would...
“Babette?” Yes. His footsteps came closer. “You know why I did it, Babette. You’re a horrible human being.”
Arrestadt was nearer. I could see him through the scrim that hung in the doorway. His satin Phantom cape reflected the projector’s watery light and his skull makeup looked frighteningly real. C’mon, c’mon...Just a few steps more and he’d be in position.
“Blackmailing me was bad enough.” He lowered his voice just above a whisper. “After all, I never hurt any of those girls. And I never touched anyone under fourteen.”
I clapped a hand over my mouth to keep from saying anything.
“But what you were doing to Candace was worse. You didn’t care what happened to her as long as it made you look good.” He took another step toward me. Almost there. “You wouldn’t care if she killed herself with those pills—”
“Stop!” I shouted. I readied the other remote. “You killed me, you bastar—Achoo!” Shit! Shit, shit, shit!
“Hey. Ghosts don’t...” Arrestadt paused, but not long enough for me to do anything. “Ivy.” He lunged in my direction.
I scrambled backward, dropping the remotes. Babette’s video kept playing, its light glinting off Arrestadt’s knife. “Ivy. It’s you,” he said. “Of course.”
“No!” I yelled in a last-ditch effort, backing further into the hallway, and grabbing the remotes off the floor. “I am Babette!”
Cool air on the back of my neck. Why did Logan open the door to the spring room? He was supposed to be—
“Aaaaahhh!” Arrestadt screamed. “Aaaah!” He pointed at me, dropped his knife, and backed away into the center of the speakeasy, right into position. I pushed the remote, and the spider web net fell. “Aaaahhh!” he screamed again.
I pushed aside the scrim and sat on top of the struggling Arrestadt. Logan ran into the room on cue and sat on him too. “High five!” he said, then “Eyahhhhhh!” He pointed behind me, eyes enormous.
I whipped my head around. There, slipping out the door, was a woman made of mist. She turned and looked at me over her shoulder, a smile on her pale lips. Then she left, her long white scarf trailing behind her. The door closed of its own accord.
The Lady in White. I couldn’t breathe.
Then, scratching. Fingernails on wood. Bang! “Aaahh!” I screamed.
Candy sat up in the coffin, its lid bouncing after its dramatic opening. “If y’all are done screaming now, could someone help me out of here?”
Chapter 71
A Real Monster
I ran over to Candy. I meant to help her out of the coffin, but as soon as I touched h
er, I couldn’t let her go. I just hugged her and hugged her. She didn’t let go of me either. Finally we released each other. I held out my hand and she took it, her fingers bony and cold in mine. “Are you okay?” I asked.
“Just—oops.”
I caught her as she tumbled over the side of the coffin.
“Woozy. Sort of the way you’d feel after drinking a whole bottle of Jack.”
I sincerely hoped she wasn’t speaking from experience.
Logan had been speaking quietly into his walkie-talkie. He clipped it back on his belt. “The police are on their way.” He was still sitting on Arrestadt, who was tangled in the spider web net, shaking violently and glancing behind him. “Gladiators used to fight with weighted nets,” Logan explained to Candy. “Me and Ivy used zip ties to attach weights to the web.”
“Why are you talking about that?” asked Arrestadt. “You saw her too, didn’t you? We all saw her—the Lady—right?”
Logan and I looked at each other and saw confirmation in each other’s eyes. Candy stared at me, wide-eyed. “I’ll fill you in about that later.” I still held her hand. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t get any of your texts until tonight. At first I thought you were just pissed at me, then I thought it was a PR stunt, and then I thought you killed Babette and—you didn’t kill Babette, did you?”
“I’m actually not sure,” Candy said. “The last few days are pretty...fuzzy.”
