Jeff Strand - Graverobbers Wanted - No Experience Necessary

I walked back to the bulletin board, which was covered with index cards advertising gaming groups. I took a few moments to scan them, but the teenager had been right, there were none for Prophecies of the Night. Oh well. It was a long shot anyway.

I was about to thank the teenager and leave, but something stopped me. Okay, all I'd found was a tiny little piece of card stuck to my jeans. But unless it was already in the ditch, it had to have got there when the killer was moving me, and so there was a good chance that he was a player. And I'd read a few mystery novels, enough to know that it was usually the insignificant clue that solved the case.

I returned to the counter. "Actually, I'd like a deck of those cards, if you don't mind."

"No problem." The teenager left the counter and returned an instant later holding a small deck. He punched some keys on the cash register. "That'll be eighteen eighty."

"Say what?"

"Eighteen dollars and eighty cents, including tax."

"For a deck of cards?"

"Yeah."

"No, no, no, cards don't cost eighteen dollars and eighty cents," I explained."Cards a buck or two. A little more if they have naked women on them."

"You're not a seasoned gamer, are you?"

"Obviously not."

"I can give you a ten percent discount if you join ourGamer's Castle frequent buyer club. It costs ten dollars and is good for a full year."

"No, thanks, I'll pay retail." I dug out my wallet and grudgingly handed him a twenty, hoping that these damn cards at least came with bubble gum. "By the way, you wouldn't happen to know a Michael Ashcraft, would you?"

The teenager thought for a moment."Nope."

"Jennifer Ashcraft?"

"Nope."

"Okay. Thanks for your help."

NOT BEING Sherlock Holmes has its disadvantages. While Sherlock would have been able to solve the whole mystery based on the composition of the dirt on the jeans I wore last night, I managed to pretty much bumble around for the next couple hours without learning anything of interest. I stopped at Michael's house, a fairly nice one-story deal in the suburbs, but the neighbors on one side were having a yard sale, and the neighbor on the other side was out mowing his lawn, so I decided it would be best to postpone any serious investigating.

I returned home to find that my mother-in-law had just brought the kids back, so we sat down to a soup and sandwich lunch. I tried to be a cheerful daddy, but with everything that was on my mind it was difficult to be as immature as my kids would have liked, even while listening to Kyle's vivid description of yesterday's activities.

"An' we played Squish the Bug an' we—"

"It's Stomp the Bug, stupid," Theresa corrected in that special way big sisters have.

"An' we played Stomp the Bug an' Theresa was the bug six times an' I was only the bug four times an' then Aunt Marcia came an' she took us to get frozen yogurt an' I got chocolate vanilla swirl an' Theresa got regular chocolate an' she dropped her cone in Aunt Marcia's car an' Aunt Marcia got mad an' said not to drop her cone again or she wouldn't be allowed to have food in the car an' Theresa said okay."

"Wow, busy night," I said.

"Yeah.An' wewatchedThe ElrodMcBugleShow . Elrod drank a whole swimming pool an' everyone who was swimming got mad."

"Will you take us swimming, Daddy?" asked Theresa.

"I can't today, sweetie. Daddy has stuff to do. But I promise I'll take you pretty soon. Just play outside today, but remember what I said about staying away from the boy next door. Anyone who tries to feed you kitty litter is not a true friend."

"Are you going off to be a freeloader?" Kyle inquired.

Helen nearly choked on a spoonful of soup. "Where did you hear that?" she asked.

"Aunt Marcia. What does `freeloader' mean?"

I decided to field that one. "It means your Aunt Marcia needs to keep her enormous mouth—"

Helen cut me off. "It means Daddy is currently testing various career opportunities."

"Oh," said Kyle, nodding with understanding.

Roger grinned."Testing various career opportunities. That's exactly the way I would have phrased it."

"Shut up," I said.

"Daddy, you're not supposed to tell people to shut up," Theresa informed me.

"Roger doesn't count. You can tell him to shut up all you want."

"Shut up, shut up, shut up," sang Kyle.

"Andrew, please don't talk to our children any more than is absolutely necessary," said Helen.

Chapter 6

AROUND ONE, I called again.

"Hello, GhoulishDelights , where we make your nightmares a reality.Rachel speaking. How may I help you?"

"Hi," I said. "I'm calling for Michael Ashcraft."

"Oh, I'm sorry. He's out of town. Is this something I can help you with?"

"Possibly.I was given one of your business cards, and I have to admit that the name sounds very intriguing. What exactly do you do there?"

"Do you like horror movies?"

"Love `em."

"Then you'll probably like what we do. You know, if you want to stop on by, we'd be more than happy to give you a tour."

"Sure, why not?" I said. "I've got some spare time. When should I be there?"

"We should be hanging around until about five, so any time before that. Do you need directions?"

"Nope.I'll see you soon, then. Thanks!"

After putting on a new watch and assuring Helen about sixty-eight times that we were both feeling fine and that it wasn't necessary for us to stay at home to recuperate, Roger and I drove to the address on the card. Ghoulish Delights looked like somebody's house that had been converted into a business, bearing only a small sign in the same oozing letters as on the card.

After narrowly avoiding a serious crutch mishap, we stepped onto the porch and rang the doorbell. It was answered by a tall, athletically-built, dark-haired woman who wore a t-shirt with the Ghoulish Delights logo.

"Hi, I'm Rachel Mallory," she said, extending her hand. I noticed that she wore black fingernail polish, with a little eyeball drawn on each nail. It was pretty cool.

"Andrew Mayhem. This is my friend Roger."

"Pleased to meet you.Welcome to our lair."

We walked inside. The waiting room had a couch, a couple of chairs, a small table, and a wall that had every square inch covered with horror movie posters. One of the chairs was currently occupied by a skeleton wearing a pair of bunny ears and smoking a cigarette.

"That's our mascot, Calcium," said Rachel. "Have a seat on the couch and I'll introduce the others to you." She went over and poked her head into the adjoining room. "Potential customers are here! Everyone act your weirdest!"

Four other people marched out of the room. "Why don't you all introduce yourselves and tell these nice men what it is you do around here," said Rachel.

The first guy looked about thirty, wore thick glasses, had short blonde hair with a huge cowlick, and a very ruddy complexion with several streaks of acne. "I'm CarlUnderall ," he said, looking to the left of me instead of making eye contact."Cameraman."

Next to him was a small, thin, red-headed, freckle-faced guy in his mid-twenties. He wore a Ghoulish Delights t-shirt like Rachel's, except that this one had a fake hand protruding from the stomach holding...well, a stomach. "I'm FarleySoukup ," he said in a squeaky voice that immediately forced me to hate him."Special effects."

The next guy was also in his mid-twenties. He had a dark complexion and was dressed entirely in black. His straight black hair hung over his shoulders, and he even wore black nail polish and a black dangling spider earring—a Goth boy through and through. It wouldn't have surprised me if he'd been wearing a set of vampire teeth. If I'd been holding a glass, the temptation to fling the contents at him and scream "Holy water!" would have been unbearable. "Dominick Griffin," he said."Sound, story and occasional on-camera predator."