Funhouse (7 page)

The sight of Gina’s normally cheerful mother weeping, her hands over her face, shocked Tess. She wanted to say something to comfort the woman who had always been so good to her, but nothing seemed right. Quietly, Tess took a seat beside her.

“The doctor said she’d be in there a while,” Doss said, his usual swaggering air gone as he gestured toward the emergency room. He seemed as worried as everyone else in the room.

But suspicion had taken a firm hold on Tess and was growing with every passing minute. Two accidents in less than a week! In a town where things like this never happened. She didn’t care
what
explanation for Gina’s fall the police came up with, they’d never convince her that the saucer hadn’t been missing. It
had.
Someone had taken it. She didn’t have the slightest idea
how
someone would do such a thing. She only knew that someone had.

But who?

The person who had written the purple note, of course. The intention was clear from that awful poem. The police, and then Gina, hadn’t taken it seriously. Maybe they should have. If there’d been no more accidents, Tess would have agreed with them that it was just a sick joke. But now Gina had fallen, and it was clear, at least to
Tess,
that the note had been for real.

What frightened Tess most was the fact that every single person who had been
seriously
hurt so far, with the exception of some innocent bystanders injured in The Devil’s Elbow crash, had been her age, in her group of friends: Dade, Sheree, Joey, and now Gina. Why would someone target them?

And then Tess thought of something else, even more frightening.

Whoever had slipped that purple note under her door had known where she lived—that she lived with Shelley in the condominium, not with her father anymore. Only a few people knew that. Only her closest friends.

But that was impossible! None of her friends could ever do anything this horrible. Never! Could they?

Tess glanced around the room nervously. Could shy, quiet Candace be harboring feelings of hatred and anger toward her fellow students? Why? Because she felt left out? If people didn’t pay that much attention to Candace, it was because she was so quiet. Maybe underneath that quiet, she was full of rage. Maybe she wasn’t who they all thought she was.

Beak? Lover of practical jokes? Even he couldn’t possibly find The Devil’s Elbow crash funny—could he?

Trudy? Remembering the temper tantrum that Trudy had thrown in the school parking lot, Tess watched Trudy for a long moment. Wearing an expensive pink jumpsuit belted in rich leather, Trudy was filing her nails with an emery board, glancing up every now and then to smile at Guy Joe, who lounged against the wall. Could Trudy have some reason for wanting the people she knew well to suffer?

I can’t believe, Tess thought unhappily, that I am even considering the possibility that one of my friends could have done such horrid things! It’s just not possible, that’s all!

Then who had? And why?

Doss, she thought, as she looked across the room at him, slumped in one of the hard plastic chairs. Doss would know the Funhouse inside and out. And he’d know how to remove those metal saucers and replace them, wouldn’t he?

The trouble with that theory, she realized instantly, was that Gina would be the last person Doss would want to hurt. Anyone who had seen the expression on his square, dark face when he looked at Gina would understand that Doss would rather break his
own
leg than Gina’s.

That was when she remembered something, and sat up straight. Of course! The missing saucer hadn’t been intended for Gina. The missing keys belonged to
Tess.
The hole in the saucers had been created for
her.
And those keys hadn’t slid from her pocket at all. They’d been deliberately removed. That’s why she hadn’t been able to find them anywhere, and had to get a lift back home to pick up her extra set.

But who would have had the opportunity to take her keys? Doss would have. She now remembered he had been standing close to her on The Boardwalk before they’d first entered the Funhouse. He could easily have filched her keys. And then he could have removed the saucer, knowing Tess would return to the Funhouse to search for them.

But how on earth would someone time a stunt like that? And where would they put the missing saucer? There wasn’t any place in the passageway to hide something so large.

Never mind. She’d figure all of that out later. Right now, it was enough to realize that Gina’s fall hadn’t been an accident, that it hadn’t been intended for Gina, and that the note had been perfectly serious when it said
Who will be next?

Tess shivered in her seat.

“Cold?” Sam asked, coming up to stand in front of her. “Want my jacket?” He slipped out of his brown suede jacket and handed it to her, but she shook her head no.

“Not cold,” she said quietly. “Just thinking ugly thoughts.”

He sat down beside her. “Like?”

She wasn’t ready to share what she’d been thinking. Saying it aloud would make it so much more real. She had to do some more heavy thinking before she told anyone.

“Never mind.”

He accepted that, and sat quietly beside her, asking no more questions.

“This is such a bad thing,” Mrs. Giambone said suddenly. “My Gina, she was in such pain when they brought her in.”

“She was conscious? That’s a good sign, isn’t it?”

The woman nodded, her round face, so like Gina’s, creased with worry. “She was awake. But she was crying. And I cried, too.” She shook her head, her curly graying hair moving with the motion. “That’s not good, for a mother to cry in front of her child. It scared my Gina. But I couldn’t help it.”

Tess put an arm around Mrs. Giambone’s ample shoulders. “She’ll be okay. Honest, she will.” Because anything else was unthinkable. “And I don’t blame you for crying. I cried, too, when I saw her on the beach.”

Until she saw Mrs. Giambone weeping, Tess hadn’t given a thought to what all of this must be like for the parents. Sheree Buchanan’s mother had spent most of Sheree’s life bragging about how pretty her daughter was. Joey’s parents came to every single track meet, even the out-of-town events. And the Giambones were understandably scared to death.

It’s worse for them, Tess thought with conviction. It’s worse for the parents.

Her head began to pound furiously. The words
Who will be next?
danced across the white walls, taunting her.
Who will be next, who will be
—

Dr. Oliver, Sam’s father, stethoscope around his neck, appeared in the doorway. Mr. Giambone was right behind him.

“Your daughter,” the doctor told the parents, “has a fractured leg and a mild concussion. We’re going to keep her here for a while. No visitors for a day or two. Except, of course, for you two. You can go in and see her now, before we take her upstairs. She’s worried about you.”

“We can’t see her?” Tess asked, her voice quivering slightly. She wouldn’t be certain Gina was okay until she saw that for herself.

Dr. Oliver shook his head. “Sorry. Not yet. Give her some time to get over the shock to her system. A good night’s sleep is what she needs right now. Maybe tomorrow, although the next day would be even better, okay?”

It wasn’t okay. But she had to do what was best for Gina. Because in a way, this was all
her
fault. It had been her key case. The hole had been meant for her. So the fall, the concussion, and the fractured leg should have been hers, too.

Perhaps because of her guilt, Tess stayed for a while after everyone else went home, hoping Sam’s father would change his mind and let her see Gina.

He didn’t, and when she was so tired she felt like she was about to collapse, she left, too.

She hurried to her car, hating the darkness and wishing she had asked someone to wait with her. But who? Right now, she was so unsure about everyone she knew that she couldn’t think of a single person she absolutely trusted.

She cried quietly all the way home. Last night she had been safe in the Giambone house, drinking hot coffee and eating homemade doughnuts with a sugar glaze, fresh from Mrs. Giambone’s deep fryer. She’d been sitting at the big wooden table in the warm, friendly kitchen, surrounded by large and small Giambones and laughing at the antics of the littlest ones.

Laughing. She’d been laughing! Had that been last night? It seemed like a million years ago.

At The Shadows, she parked the car, jumped out, locked the car doors, and was about to race for the kitchen door when something caught her eye.

There was an object hanging from the black wrought-iron top of the light fixture on the wall beside the kitchen door. She’d forgotten to turn on the light before she left, so she couldn’t see very clearly.

Peering into the shadows, she moved a step closer. The object was white. Not white-white, but grayish-white. A bundle of something? Paper? Rags? What would a bundle of paper or rags be doing on her light fixture?

She took another step closer. It looked soft and furry, like her angora sweater. White and soft and furry? What was white and soft and furry?

Scarcely breathing, Tess moved one more step closer to the light fixture. A sudden breeze sent the object swaying back and forth. Glassy blue eyes turned in the breeze, staring at her coldly.

Trilby.

Tess screamed.

P
OOR
T
ESS.
W
HAT A
fright that pretty kitty gave her.

I was in the attic so long that day, that it grew dark. I didn’t even realize it until I could no longer read Lila O’Hare’s faint scrawl. I pulled the chain on the bulb hanging from the ceiling. I wasn’t about to leave until I’d finished the journal. It just got more and more interesting.

Buddy was taking care of her financial heeds. He certainly owed her that much, after taking everything she owned. And still that wasn’t enough for him. He wanted more. He wanted her child.

Buddy won’t tell me who the people are who want my baby. But I think I know. And if it’s who I think it is, they certainly could give my baby everything money can buy. And I do worry about that. Maybe I’m being selfish, not considering an adoption that could give my child the best life possible. I know I can’t give it to him or her. Buddy says a good mother would care more for her child’s happiness than she does her own. Maybe he’s right.

A
S
T
ESS CONTINUED SCREAMING
, lights began glowing in first one unit, then another. Doors opened and heads peeked out, turning toward her screams. But no one ventured forth.

A car door slammed behind her. Footsteps hurried across the cement patio toward her. Hands grabbed her shoulders, shook her, repeatedly saying her name.

“Tess! Tess, it’s Guy Joe! What on earth is wrong?”

Her brother was standing in front of her, blocking her view of the light fixture and the grisly thing hanging from it. He was flanked on one side by Sam and Trudy, on the other by a white-faced Candace. They were all wearing matching blue Santa Luisa High windbreakers, except Candace, shrouded in a faded tan raincoat and matching hat.

With the swaying animal blocked from her vision, Tess was able to catch her breath. But she couldn’t speak. Instead, she pointed a shaking finger past Guy Joe.

Sam moved forward in the direction of the pointed finger. Tess watched in dread as he moved closer to the door. Tilting his head, he examined the object of Tess’s terror.

After a moment, he called over his shoulder, “It’s not real.”

“What?” Tess whispered, sagging against Guy Joe.

“It’s not real,” Sam repeated. “It’s stuffed. It’s a stuffed animal, like the kind Candace has overpopulating her bedroom.” He reached up and yanked the pile of fluff loose from the cord holding it suspended in the air. Then he returned to Tess, the freed object in his hands. “It’s not real, Tess. See for yourself.”

“Stuffed?” Tess said softly. “It’s stuffed?”

Sam held it in his outstretched hands. “Does look real, though, doesn’t it?”

Tess took the soft, fluffy creature in her own hands and turned it over repeatedly, murmuring, “It’s not Trilby, it’s not Trilby.” When she was finally satisfied that it really was not Gina’s cat, she let it slip to the patio and began crying quietly.

“Trilby?” Trudy said, taking a seat in a white patio chair. “What’s a Trilby?”

“Gina’s cat,” Tess said quietly, sinking into a chair opposite Trudy because it suddenly occurred to her that if she didn’t sit down, she would fall down. “You know, the big Siamese. She looks exactly like … that,” pointing toward the object lying on the patio stone.

Trudy frowned. “Why would Gina’s cat be hanging from your lamppost? Honestly, Tess, you just get weirder and weirder!”

Candace came up behind Tess and put both hands on Tess’s shoulders. “Shut up, Trudy,” she said firmly, surprising all of them. “How could Tess know why it was there? The point is, it was, and it must have been a horrible thing for her. Leave her alone.”

And Guy Joe, taking a seat beside Trudy, said, “I don’t know about you, Trudy. Sometimes you scare me. You must have ice water in your veins. Ever hear of the word
compassion?”

Trudy pouted.

Sam sat down in the chair next to Tess’s, and took one of her hands in his. “It wasn’t real, Tess.”

“I know it must have looked it, but it wasn’t,” he said softly. “It’s a good thing we decided to drop by tonight.”

Guy Joe took a book of matches lying on the round white table and lit a short, stubby citronella candle sitting in a glass dish in the table’s center. Tess watched as the resulting light cast an eerie glow over the faces looking at her. Or was she imagining the eeriness? Was she so spooked now that everything and everyone seemed sinister to her?

Well, why shouldn’t she be? Wouldn’t anyone be, if the same cruel joke had been played on them?

“So Gina loaned you her cat,” Trudy said, scooting her chair closer to Guy Joe’s. “That still doesn’t explain why you thought it would be hanging from your light fixture.”

“I didn’t
think
it was, Trudy!” Tess said hotly. “It was! Or, at least, something that looked exactly like Trilby. And I have no idea why someone would pull such a rotten stunt. I also don’t know why someone would deliberately sabotage The Devil’s Elbow, or remove one of the saucers from the Funhouse or write me a threatening note.”