Part 23 (1/2)
”Yeah. Me, too.”
”I could go for a break.”
”Yeah. Good plan.”
The occupants of the Murder House made a collective beeline for the back door that led to the barn, restroom, each battling to keep from being the last person left in the house. We reached the small, but well-lit porch off the barn when a figure stepped out from the side yard. This one, thank G.o.d, didn't yell, ”Boo!”
”Vinny! What are you doing here?” Keelie asked.
”My job. What the h.e.l.l is going on?” Vinny Vincent, flashlight in hand, took in the scene, a scowl spreading across his face when his gaze lit on Jax.
”Jax thought it would be funny to drop in and scare the h.e.l.l out of us,” Tiara accused. ”He's sick,” she parroted again. ”Sick!”
Vinny frowned. ”I thought we had an understanding, Whitver,” he said. ”You were going to keep your distance.”
”You'd like that, wouldn't you, Vinny?” Jax said. ”Well, lucky for me, this is America, and I am free to roam where the spirit moves me. Pun intended, by the way.”
”And I suppose you're responsible for her being here.” Vinny c.o.c.ked his head in my direction. ”It just keeps getting better and better.”
”Actually, er, uh, sir, Keelie extended the invite...er, challenge,” I stammered.
”Keep your friends close? Keep your enemies closer, ay, Duckie?” He winked at Keelie.
”Now listen here-” I objected.
”You listen, Blondie. These pranks are not just petty anymore,” Vinny said. ”The furry send-off gift. Spiking Keelie's drink. The graffiti. Tampering with her brake cable. That doesn't add up to harmless summer fun, Toots.”
”Graffiti? Brake cable?” This time the clueless look on my face was the real thing. ”What are you talking about?”
”Someone left 'Keelie, go home!' signs in various places along the bike route. She also had her brakes tampered with,” Vinny said. ”Lucky for Keelie, Manny here conducts a thorough inspection of all the bikes.”
I shot a look at Manny. His chin lifted in silent confirmation.
”That's awful. Really. But I had nothing to do with any of those incidents,” I said.
”Incidents? Those are crimes, Blondie. Chargeable crimes. Am I right, Officer? Mr. DeMarco?”
Patrick frowned. The corner of Manny's mouth lifted slightly.
”What's a crime, Vinny, is the way you manipulate people to suit your own ends,” Jax interjected.
An elbow jabbed me in the ribs. ”Sound like anyone we know?” Dixie said.
”Surely you can't mean...Moi?”
”Can't I, Miss Piggy? Thanks to you, Frankie and I now have supporting roles in this freak show.”
”Well, excuse me for thinking you might actually appreciate some national exposure.”
Dixie shook her head. ”Why would I need or want the kind of exposure this voyeuristic venue promotes?” she asked. ”It's objectifying, demeaning, and contributes to the increasing and pervasive intellectual dumbing-down of the populace.”
”Tell us what you really think, Debbie,” I responded. ”And haven't you ever heard no publicity is bad publicity?”
”Yeah. Usually from the mouths of attention wh.o.r.es who don't give a flip about the impact they're having on young, impressionable minds.”
Debbie Daggett does the soapbox. I only hoped the soap box wouldn't buckle under the weight.
”You're one to talk about manipulating people, Whitver,” Vinny was saying. ”What the h.e.l.l do you think you've been doing to Keelie with your little prankster friend here?” Vinny asked.
”h.e.l.lo! Read my lips: I am not responsible for any of the malicious pranks targeting Keelie. Maybe you'd do better to spend your time checking out your own back yard,” I suggested.
”What the h.e.l.l do you mean by that?” Vinny barked.
”You can't deny Keelie's reality TV ratings are getting a shot in the arm from all the drama,” I said. ”And ratings b.u.mps benefit everyone involved with the show: producers, advertisers, cast members, their agents...”
”I resent your implication!”
”Welcome to the club,” I responded.
”Vinny, you're spoiling our seance!” Keelie hooked an arm through Manny's and Frankie's arms. ”Nothing's going to happen to me when I have all these big strong men here to protect me.”
”I think I'm gonna be sick,” Dixie muttered.
”Come on, everybody! Let's finish our potty breaks, make nice, and go back in and see if we can raise a little h.e.l.l!” Keelie pumped a fist in the air. ”Murder House! Murder House! Murder House!”
Tiara joined her pal in the ghoulish chant.
”You will join us as we repair to the haunted Ax Murder House for another go-round at a ghostie, won't you, Vinny, ol' boy?” Langley asked, putting a hand out to the owly agent.
”h.e.l.l, no! I'm going to sit out here, have a smoke, and thank G.o.d I'm too old and too smart to p.i.s.s away what time I have left on this earth trying to contact the d.a.m.ned boogeyman.”
Langley raised an eyebrow and an ”I tried” shoulder.
”As you say, Vinny,” he said. ”Miss Turner?”
He lifted his elbow, inviting me to take his arm.
I found myself accepting.
What can I say? I'm a sucker for a guy with good manners and an accent.
Langley tucked my arm into his and patted my hand.
”You mustn't take Vinny too seriously,” Langley said. ”His bark is worse than his bite.”
Somehow I doubted that. Vinny came off like a feisty pit bull with a bone to pick.
With me.
By the time we returned to the parlor, Keelie and Tiara had lost interest in the boogeyman board. Instead, they began to dance around the parlor to a pretty awful rendition of Monster Mash.