The Phantom of Oz Read online

  “Just mine,” said Logan. “I come down here every so often.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “You’ll see.” With that, he ran a few steps and was gone, turned around a bend. I could hear his footsteps but couldn’t see him.

  “Logan?” The light from his flashlight grew dimmer and dimmer. I turned the corner and the light was snuffed out. No flashlight, no Logan, the passageway ahead black as midnight. I fumbled for my cell phone. “Logan?” I said again.

  “Here.” By the sound of his voice, he was within a stone’s throw.

  “Why did you turn off your flashlight?”

  “Drama,” he said, and turned on the light.

  Oh my god. How many horror movies had I watched? I knew better than to go into the basement, and now I’d done it. With a serial killer. I backed up slowly, away from the bodies, the blood, the severed limbs...

  “DAHHH! Duh duh duh duh duh!” The organ music from The Phantom of the Opera echoed off the walls. “Welcome to my Nightmare.” Logan spread his arms in welcome. A knife glinted in his hand.

  I moved my hand from my cellphone to my pepper spray.

  “Cool, huh?” Logan bounced on his feet like a little kid. “It’s my workshop. What do you think? They’re pretty lifelike, right?”

  Right. And once again I was thankful for my bladder control.

  The knife was actually Logan’s flashlight, and the headless bodies and body-less heads that littered the room were just props. The former speakeasy was a small space with a wide arched entrance that opened onto a slightly bigger room with brick walls, sort of like a civilized cave. “No front door?” I asked Logan.

  He shrugged. “I guess they figured if you made it down this far, you were okay. Maybe they kept guards at the hotel entrance and the door in the closet.”

  I turned on my phone flashlight so I could see better and walked into Logan’s Nightmare. An elaborately carved coffin held a place of honor in the middle of the room, and red-tinged implements of terror, like chainsaws and hooks, hung from the wall. A skeleton shivered in one of the corners. A monstrous spider waited for its prey, its enormous web spread over most of the ceiling.

  “So?” he said. “I’m good, right?”

  “You designed these?” I ran a finger along a gargoyle carved into the coffin, which was made of some lightweight material but painted to look like wood.

  “All by myself. I’ve been working at haunted houses for years now. Really perfected my craft in college. I’ve been working especially hard lately. I, um, think there may be a good...um, opportunity coming my way.”

  Logan was usually pretty direct. I wondered why he wasn’t saying exactly what was on his mind. Could be he didn’t want to jinx something.

  “Did you happen to put a severed head in one of the other backstage hallways?”

  “What? Oh yeah, I forgot about it. I was playing a joke on one of the new techies.”

  “You might want to get it. It’s covered in cockroaches.”

  “Not surprised. They love it here in the dark.”

  I pulled my hand away from the coffin.

  “But that’s also a cool idea. ‘Head with hair made of insects,’” Logan said, tapping a note into his phone.

  “You’re really good.” Even close up, Logan’s bodies looked real, with glistening blood and gushy-looking brains.

  “Thanks,” he said. “I made everything except the skeleton. That was already here. A leftover prop, probably.”

  I crept closer to get a better look. The skeleton’s empty eye sockets stared at me. I ran a finger along its bones. They felt dry, with little cracks running through them, and clacked against each other as my hand bumped along the ribcage.

  “It’s real,” said Logan.

  “Ahh!” I jumped back. “Oh, good one.” I smiled at him.

  “No, I mean it. It’s real.”

  Too creepy. I backed way away from the skeleton/dead body/former person.

  “I’m especially proud of this.” Logan walked toward a bloody surgical scenario. Red-spattered curtains hung around the hospital bed, open just enough that I could see the bed inside. It had a bloody finger stuck to it. “Pretty awesome, right—Aaah!” Logan screamed, pointing at a door in the back corner of the room. “Oh my God!”

  A misty white figure filled the open doorway. She writhed, as if in pain, a long scarf trailing from her neck.

  My mouth went dry. “The Lady in White,” I whispered.

  “Cool, huh?” The image was gone.

  “Omigod, Logan, was that you too? I am never coming down here with you again.”

  Logan did a little dance, like a football player who just made a goal. “Come see.”

  I did not move.

  “No, really. I promise I won’t scare you again. Don’t you want to see how I did it?”

  I did, so I walked over to Logan. “See, I’ve covered this doorway with a scrim.” The lightweight fabric was tacked to the top of the doorframe, like a see-through curtain. Logan held it aside. Behind the door was a short hallway with another door directly in front of us, an old-fashioned wooden one, with a shelf mounted above it. Logan pointed to a small cube-shaped metal object on the shelf. “I can operate that mini video projector by remote. Hardest thing was creating the video of the Lady, but it all turned out pretty good, don’t you think?”

  “So the video is rear-projected on the scrim?”

  “Exactly. Genius, right?” Logan could hardly contain his glee. “Right?”

  “Yeah, okay.” I was still annoyed at being scared, but the effect was pretty impressive.

  “It’s even creepier when you know what’s behind that door.” He pointed at the wooden one. “That’s the spring room in there. Where the Lady in White drowned.”

  Bong. Bong. Bong. Dang. I’d set the alarm on my phone earlier to make sure I made it back to the green room in time for the evening rehearsal. I really wanted to see the spring room, and to explore the rest of the backstage passages. There was a small likelihood I’d find a clue about Candy’s disappearance, but a better one that I would find a passage that led behind the one-eyed portrait, and maybe some clues to who had rigged it to spurt blood on Babette. Logan was a likely candidate, but why would he do it? Just because he hated Babette? Maybe I could weasel that out of him later. “Dinner break’s almost over,” I said. “Show me the spring room tomorrow?”

  “You bet. And Ivy, all of this is sort of secret. I’m not sure the powers that be would appreciate...”

  “I won’t say anything,” I said. “Every artist needs a studio, right?”

  Chapter 26

  With Throbbing Temples and an Aching Heart

  Between my nose running, my stomach growling, and my brain running in very low gear, I barely made it through our after-dinner rehearsal. Pretty sure everyone was wondering how in the hell I got cast as an understudy. The only bright spot was a text from Matt, asking if he could come by my apartment after rehearsal.

  “Yes!!!” I texted back. “Please!!!” (In case he hadn’t got the message).

  I answered the door to Matt a little before ten thirty. Jazz played softly, the air smelled like chilies and chocolate, and I was in my pajamas. Matt smiled as he shut the front door and took me in his arms. “Are you trying to seduce me?”

  “Only if you’re into...Aflluey!... snot,” I said. “Good thing I sneezed over your shoulder, huh?”

  He reached over his shoulder and wiped the back of his shirt. “Yeah. Good thing.”

  “So you don’t want to be seduced?”

  “Maybe tomorrow.” He sat on the couch and cocked an ear toward my speaker, which was pouring out an especially soulful version of “God Bless the Child” by Billie Holiday. “I didn’t know you liked jazz.”

  “I didn’t either. It’s one of the cold remedies Uncle Bob found for
me online. As are chilies and chocolate.” I pointed toward the kitchen. “I decided to mix the two, sort of a Mexican hot chocolate.”

  “I could be seduced by that.”

  “You got it. Make yourself comfortable.” I padded into my tiny kitchen, which was just a few feet from the couch in the living room where Matt was sitting down. “One order coming up. Afflechh!”

  “Um...” Matt said.

  “Don’t worry. I sneezed away from the chocolate.” I poured us two cups and brought them back to the living room. I handed one to Matt and sat down beside him. I clinked his cup. “To chocolate.”

  “To chocolate.” He peered into his cup. “Are those chilies floating in there?”

  “Yeah. The article said fresh chilies have more capsaicin, which is the cold-fighting stuff. Just strain it through your teeth.”

  “Sure.” Matt smiled at me over the rim of his cup and took a sip. His eyes grew wide. He swallowed with difficulty.

  “What?

  He shook his head. I sipped my hot cocoa, then spat it back into my cup. In a ladylike way. “So that’s what baking chocolate and fresh chilies taste like. They said not to add sugar,” I added in way of an apology. “Do you want something to take the taste away?”

  “Yes, please.”

  I scrounged around in my cupboard and found a half empty box of crackers. I brought them out along with a jar of peanut butter.

  “Thanks.” Matt slathered a cracker with peanut butter, popped it in his mouth, and made another face.

  “What?” I was sure nothing was out of date. Pretty sure.

  Matt got up, went to the kitchen, and poured himself a glass of water from a jug in the fridge. As he drank it, I made myself a peanut butter cracker. If I had poisoned Matt, I wanted to die along with him.

  After a few big gulps, Matt said, “I just needed water. You want some?”

  My tongue was stuck to the roof of my mouth, so I just nodded.

  Matt brought me a glass of water and sat next to me on the couch. “What do you have against NyQuil?”

  “Oh, I guess I haven’t been sick since we started dating. I never told you my cold medicine story?”

  He shook his head.

  “I’ve never found one that didn’t give me side effects. Some make me jittery, some make me stupid, some make me sleepy, and once, I was driving through the desert at night, and the goblins came out. I had to swerve to miss one, nearly drove off the road.”

  “Goblins?”

  I crossed my heart. “I swear. I mean, they were probably tumbleweeds, or coyotes, or maybe even javelinas, but I still remember how they grinned at me with their big teeth as they jumped in front of my headlights.”

  “Wow. I wouldn’t take cold medicine either.”

  “And I really need to get rid of this cold right away. I’ve got rehearsal all week, and I might even have to perform if I can’t find Candy. Wait, that reminds me of something...Candy...cold medicine...nope. Maybe it’ll come to me tomorrow. I hope so. I’ve got to find her.”

  “Are you really that worried about Candy?”

  “Shouldn’t I be? Is there something you know that I don’t?” Dating your best friend’s ex-boyfriend can make you a little paranoid.

  Matt sighed. “No. It’s just that...Candy isn’t the most reliable person in the world. She used to stand me up all the time.”

  “She did?”

  “She always had a good excuse, but yeah. And some of those good excuses sounded a lot like lies.”

  “Candy didn’t cheat on you, if that’s what you were thinking. She partied and flirted, but while she was with you, you were the only one.”

  “Okay.” Matt didn’t sound convinced. This was weird. Was I supposed to cheer up my boyfriend who was sad about the thought of his ex-girlfriend sleeping around? Matt took my hand. “But there’s something else I think you should consider...” he began.

  Oh no. Not Matt and Candy. They couldn’t have—

  “Your feelings about Cody.”

  “What? Did you mean to say Candy?”

  Matt shook his head. “I meant Cody.”

  “You know, I am a little worried about Cody. He usually calls me back and—”

  “That’s not what I meant. You seem awfully upset about Candy…” Matt’s thumb caressed the back of my hand. “More upset than you might normally be, I mean, and…” He paused like he was searching for the right words. “And I wonder if old tapes are playing in the back of your mind, if this is about trying to save your friend—”

  “Of course it’s about trying to save my friend—”

  “Because you couldn’t save your brother.”

  Oh.

  I felt a weight drop inside me. It was a strange sensation, like something had been lifted off my shoulders and dropped into my stomach. I couldn’t describe it. I couldn’t say anything, actually.

  “Just something to think about,” Matt said. “I hate to see you tying yourself up in knots.”

  I nodded and finished my water. Finally, I could speak. Not about what Matt had said, but still, words felt like progress. “Did he—Cody—tell you about an audition?”

  Matt handled the change of subject gracefully, as I knew he would. “An audition for what?”

  “I don’t know. Sarah mentioned it.”

  “There’s that theater company, Detour Theatre, that casts actors with cognitive disabilities—maybe it’s them?”

  “Maybe. You think he would’ve said something to one of us. And he hasn’t returned my call.”

  “Probably waiting to see if he gets cast before he tells his famous actress sister.”

  “Yeah. Um...” A perfect opportunity to tell Matt about the possible tour contract, but I couldn’t do it. I was still reeling a little bit from the Cody-Candy idea, plus I was a coward. My relationship with Matt could probably survive one tour, but what then? What would happen when I went on another? Or decided to move to New York or LA? “How long could you live without me?” I asked.

  “Twenty-four hours, tops,” he said. “Unless they were playing all the Star Wars and Star Trek movies back to back. Then I might be able to go longer. Why?”

  I tried to say, “In case I go on tour,” but the words stuck somewhere deep in my esophagus. Sort of like the peanut butter. Finally I squeezed out, “Just wondering.” I must have pulled a face, because Matt said, “You really don’t feel well, do you? You should probably get some sleep.” He stood up, pulled me up off the couch, and kissed me on the forehead. “I’ll tuck you in.”

  “Maybe you could stay?” I always slept better next to Matt.

  “Okay.” We walked to the hall that led to the bedroom and bathroom.

  “I promise to sneeze away from you.”

  “Thanks,” he said over his shoulder as he stepped into the bathroom.

  “And I’ll try not to put my cold wet socks on you.”

  “What?” Matt stuck his head out of the bathroom door.

  “Cold wet socks. It’s another cure Uncle Bob found.”

  Matt scrunched up his face, but only for a second. “Okay,” he said. “After all, our love is bigger than cold wet socks.”

  Chapter 27

  What Have You Been Doing This Last Fortnight?

  “That’s an attractive look.”

  I opened my eyes. Matt stood next to my bed with a cup of coffee. I bet it smelled great, but I couldn’t tell. It could have been my cold, or it could’ve been the fact that I had Kleenex stuffed up my nose. “Only way to keep it from running,” I said. “And I hate snotty pillows.”

  “Me too.” Matt handed me the coffee. “Gotta run. I need to stop home and change before work.”

  “I’ll call you tonight after rehearsal,” I blew him a kiss. “Love you.”

  “Love you.”

  I heard him leave
the apartment. I sipped my coffee in bed. The hot liquid felt good going down, but I couldn’t taste it at all. Maybe I could sleep just a few minutes more...

  No. My plate was full, cold or no cold. I needed to investigate the theater accidents, find out more about Candy’s current life, attend rehearsal in the afternoon and evening, and fit in some clerical work for Uncle Bob. Oh, and talk to Cody.

  I grabbed my phone from the bedside table and dialed Cody’s group home. “Hello?” said a familiar voice.

  “Stu? It’s Olive-y. Can I talk to Cody?”

  “He’s not here.”

  “Really?” I looked at time on my phone. Just after eight. “Did they change his hours at Safeway?”

  “No. He had to...go someplace.” Stu suppressed a laugh.

  “What’s up? Sarah said something about an audition.”

  “It’s a surprise. Bye.” Stu hung up.

  It was useless to call back. Stu would never spill one of Cody’s secrets. I’d just have to wait.

  I was nearly out of bed when I remembered I’d promised to go to Costco this morning—and it didn’t open until ten in the morning. Hmm. Another hour’s worth of sleep would get me well faster and make me sharper, which would make me work more efficiently, right? Right. I mentally thanked Costco for being so civilized, turned my pillow over to the cool side, and was out almost immediately.

  Around eleven thirty, I trundled up the stairs to Duda Detectives office, lugging a plastic-wrapped brick of ten Kleenex boxes and a bag full of goodies, not the least of which was four pounds of good coffee. Uncle Bob was out, but I still made an entire pot for myself, even though I was only going to be there for a couple of hours.

  I waited until the best beverage in the world was ready, poured myself a big cup, took a box of Kleenex to my desk, and booted up my laptop. I started with Facebook. Candy had sent me a friend request before our fight last week. I accepted it, then went to her new Candace Moon page. Yes, her status said, “In a relationship,” though it didn’t say with whom. I searched through her friends, found her roommates, and PMed both of them: “Have you heard from Candy?”