Calamity Jayne And The Trouble With Tandems Part 21

"I wish I was. Trippin' that is." A disgruntled Dixie Daggett, sitting beside me on a rolled-up sleeping bag muttered. "I still can't believe I let myself get roped into this."

I smiled. It had been nothing short of genius to approach Frankie first with my proposition. Hooking Frankie hadn't been tough at all. The allure of an unsolved murder mystery? Hook. Having the opportunity to spend the night in the Murder House? Line. Sharing the haunted digs with Keelie Keller with Frankie's hero providing security?

Sinker, baby.

And once Frankie was on board? Well, it didn't take a harpoon net to reel Dixie in.

But alas, Dixie Daggett was not your basic happy camper.

"I'll have you know I don't appreciate being manipulated like this."

"Manipulated? How did I manipulate you? I a.s.sured you over and over again that in no way should you feel obligated to partic.i.p.ate," I pointed out, suddenly finding it hard to keep a straight face.

"Wipe that d.a.m.ned smirk off your face, or I will," Dixie said.

There is a downside to being your basic open book, I've discovered. And an inherent risk, especially when it came to Dixie.

"Manipulate is such a harsh-"

"Oh, please." Dixie shook her head. "You knew good and well that there was no way in h.e.l.l I would let Frankie come here on his own."

"On his own? h.e.l.loo! Look around. There's like a dozen other people here. And I'm here. I'd watch out for Frankie."

"I feel so much better."

"And there's Keelie and Tiara..."

"Just...shut up."

I lifted an eyebrow. "Is this about not trusting Frankie with me or not trusting Frankie with them?"

"What are you talking about now?"

"They're both single, attractive young women. And Frankie's, er, enamored with the idea of being a protector like Manny. Put those characters in a spooky, haunted murder house for an overnighter? I'm just saying. It's understandable if you are feeling some insecurity here."

"What I'm feeling insecure about is Frankie spending his time with you and your former faux beau, Manny-not those two shallow party girls who wouldn't take a second look at Frankie if he stripped buck-naked and began belting out New York, New York."

Sad...but true.

"I suppose you used Patrick Dawkins as bait to hook Taylor," Dixie accused.

"I resent the characterization. It was Keelie who brought up the possibility of Patrick joining us. Her people agreed. Since he is a certified state peace officer, it made perfect sense to enlist his expertise, and I certainly didn't object."

"Especially when securing his presence was the only way to gain your sister's acquiescence."

"Her what?"

"Her agreement. Her consent. Her compliance. For G.o.d's sake, read a book once in a while, would you?"

"You're not going to be Dixie Downer all night, are you? Because that might not project into a very appealing reality TV persona, if you get my drift. This could be your big break. I can see it now. A reality television experience not to be missed: Dixie Downer: Ghost Huntress."

"Funny. But you know what? I don't think you're as ho-hum about this little adventure as you put on."

"What are you saying?"

"The only reason you wanted all of us along is that you were too scared to stay here by yourself."

"What? Me? Scared? Of what? The boogey man? Michael Myers? Freddy Krueger? Puhleaze. I can a.s.sure you, I didn't invite you along because I'm afraid of a big, bad house."

"Boo!"

I screamed and made a grab for Dixie when Frankie yelled and dropped to the floor beside her.

"Glad to see you're not afraid," Dixie said. "Now if you would be so kind as to extract your fingernails from my arm."

"G.o.d will get you for that, Frankie," I warned. He shrugged.

"Manny and I just did a perimeter check," he said. "He's got this really cool night vision equipment. You gotta try it out. It's amazing."

Dixie patted his arm. "Maybe later," she said, and shot me a see-what-you've-done-now look.

"Why was Manny checking the perimeter? Is he looking for ghosts?" I snorted.

"No, no. Strictly security protocols," Frankie informed me with a Barney Fife nose sniff. "Very hi-tech stuff."

"Is Manny expecting...trouble?" I asked, thinking of the incidents that had targeted his protectee. You know. The incidents everyone seemed to think I had a hand in. Those incidents.

"Manny always expects trouble," Frankie said with the glow of admiration in his eyes-which resulted in Dixie sending me yet another glare.

"Did you see Taylor when you were out doing your security sweep?" I asked.

"Yeah. She was there with Patrick. He and Manny were talking shop."

"What do you mean 'talking shop', Frankie?" Dixie asked.

He shrugged again. "Oh, you know. The usual stuff. Comparing guns and firepower. Discussing loads and ammo. That kind of thing."

"And Manny can converse on these topics with a fairly broad base of knowledge?" I asked.

"Of course. Manny knows all about weapons."

"I see," I nodded at Dixie. She raised an eyebrow in return. "And what did Taylor bring to the table in terms of this discussion?"

Frankie suddenly looked uncomfortable. "I can't recall-"

"Spill it, Frankie."

"She said something about learning how to shoot a gun because a person should never be without personal protection if they plan on spending any time at all with...er...uh...certain relatives," Frankie faltered near the end.

"Oh. Nice. See if I try to set her up with a hunky guy in uniform again."

"Come back to planet Earth, Miss Trekkie," Dixie said. "Taylor's probably had more dates in the last year than all three of us have had our entire lives. You're just in a snit because someone is telling it like it is and you can't handle it."

"I can handle it," I said. "I just don't like people dissing me behind my back."

"You diss me all the time," Dixie pointed out.

"Ah, but I look you in the eye when I do it," I said. "Like that. Right there. Did you notice I said 'look you in the eye'? Like you had only one eye rather than two. In this way I do you the courtesy of providing an opportunity for you to take a defensive posture or mount a full-fledged attack in retaliation."

"I feel so honored," Dixie said. "Well, I'll return the compliment in an equally direct fas.h.i.+on. You got out-maneuvered by Keelie Keller and had to accept her invite to spend the night in this little house of horrors. As a result, you bamboozled the rest of us into coming because you were too chicken to do it on your own...Nancy."

"Well!" I jumped to my feet, trying to project the bl.u.s.ter of outrage. "If that's the way you feel, you and Frankie are certainly free to vacate the premises!"

Dixie shook her head. "Not your best performance, Turner. You forget. I've seen you act before."

"Oh. That's right. Carson College, wasn't it? As I recall, you were a captive audience. Literally."

Dixie gave me a dark look.

"Everyone! Everyone! Gather round!" Keelie Keller skipped into the tiny parlor, a great-looking accessory on each arm: Manny on the left and Patrick on the right. Taylor trailed behind, her expression hard to gauge.

"It's almost the witching hour!" Keelie announced. "And you know what time that is! It's Ouija time!"

Tiara started clapping.

"Ouija! Ouija!"

"What the h.e.l.l are they squealing about?" Dixie asked.

Tiara held up a game box.

"Oh, G.o.d. Kill me now," came out before I could stop it. I clapped a hand over my mouth and looked up at the ceiling. "That's not meant to be taken as literal or like an invitation or anything." I patted the wall with a hand that wouldn't stop trembling. "Nice house. Nice house."

"Oh, brother." Dixie's snort was unmistakable.

"I don't think that would be a capital idea, Keelie," Langley said.

"I think it just plain sucks," Dixie echoed.

"You're all just a bunch of scaredy cats. Aren't they, Keelie?" Tiara said. "Party p.o.o.pers and scaredy cats."

Call me what you like, but I've watched enough Supernatural to know you don't screw around with the demon world, even if it gets you an introduction to the Winchester bros.

"So, learn anything about windage and elevation?" I inquired of Taylor when she joined us at the far side of the room. (I have no idea what the words actually mean. I got the terms from a John Wayne movie where Duke was trying to teach a prissy woman from the east how to handle a rifle.) "What are you talking about?"

"Your NRA meeting."

She gave me a "don't start" look.

"This was a bad idea," Taylor said. "Bad. Bad. Bad."

I was ready to concede it wasn't my finest moment.

"Okay, everybody! Gather round. We are going to try to contact the spirit world." Keelie announced. "Come, come! Don't be scared. We have two big, strong, muscle men to protect us."

"What am I? Chopped liver?" Frankie whined.

"Come on, everyone! Form a circle in the center of the room." Tiara instructed.

"Tressa." Keelie skipped over to me and grabbed my hand. "Come on."

I dug in my heels. "I'd rather not. On religious grounds."

"You're doing this!" Keelie insisted. "Taylor." She put a hand out and motioned to Frankie. "Frank. Debbie."

"It's Dixie." Dixie corrected. "And I'll pa.s.s. I find this kind of activity soph.o.m.oric, insensitive, and offensive."

"Debbie's scared," I blurted.

Dixie shook her head.

"Well, okay. Whatever. Everyone else. Gather around the board. Manny? Patrick? You'll protect us, right?"

Manny grunted.

"Yes, ma'am. We'll do our best," Patrick said.

Ahhh. You gotta love a guy who calls a girl younger than he is "ma'am."

"Don't forget about me, gentlemen. My body may be in need of guarding, too," Langley reminded the security detail.

"Ooh, Langley! Silly boy! Haven't you heard every man for himself?" Tiara asked.

The reality BFFs hugged each other and giggled.

"It's almost midnight, ladies," Langley chided. "Are we doing this or not?"

"Sorry, Lang. We'll behave. Pinky swear," Keelie said, and wrapped her pinky finger around Tiara's. "Okay. Everyone has to take this like seriously."

Keelie took a deep theatrical breath.

Someone tried to stifle a yawn. Unsuccessfully.

"Now, for our back story," Keelie began her voice low and hushed. "On the night of June 9, 1912, the family of Josiah B. Moore and Sarah Montgomery Moore returned with their children from a Children's Day celebration at church. Two young friends of Katherine had obtained permission from their parents to spend the night with the Moore family.

Early on the morning of June 10th, 1912, a neighbor of the Moore's noticed that the Moore family had not let their chickens out or begun their ch.o.r.es. In fact, the neighbor had seen no sign of the family that morning at all. The neighbor approached the house and tried the door, but found it locked from the inside. She went back home and called Josiah Moore's brother, Ross Moore, who rushed to the home. He looked in the windows and knocked on the door and shouted, attempting to rouse someone within the home, but to no avail. The brother used his house key and entered the parlor-this very room. He opened the door to that room"-she pointed to a small room off the parlor-"and discovered what appeared to be two b.l.o.o.d.y bodies. Ross left the home and contacted the Town Marshall, who entered the home with the brother. To their horror, they discovered a blood bath. Eight victims-had been butchered in their beds by an ax-wielding a.s.sailant. Something had been draped over each of the mirrors in the home. A pan of bacon sat on the stove."

Bacon? I perked up.