Gingerbread Man (28 page)

Jerry and Holly both looked at him in
surprise. Holly smiled, lowering her eyes again. Jerry lifted his
brows and whistled softly, his gaze shifting from one of them to
the other for long enough to make Vince uncomfortable. He sent
Jerry a look, and his partner read it, nodded, moved on.

"So, what's the plan?" Jerry asked.

"For today, you mean?" Vince thought for a
moment. “Today, we get ourselves some Halloween costumes."

Jerry frowned at him as if he thought his
partner had lost his mind. "Halloween costumes? Why?"

"Because," Vince said. "Tonight's the big
party."

Jerry frowned, looking honestly puzzled.
Shrugging, he said, "Oh, well, all right then; if it's the big
party." He reached for a doughnut. "That coffee done yet?"

"Almost." Vince got up, then paused when
Holly picked up her cup and tapped it on the table. Fighting a
smile, he reached over and took it from her, brought it with him to
the pot to fill it up.

He loved her in the morning. Scratch that. He
found her cute as hell in the morning. Even endearing, maybe. But
that was all.

Then, as he handed her the cup, Holly's eyes
met his and her face grew suddenly serious. She said, "I didn't do
it in order."

He stared back at her. Jerry said, "What's
that?"

"I didn't do it in order," Holly said softly.
"I go the bathroom, shower, brush my teeth, get dressed, make my
bed, and then come out here for coffee." She smiled up at Vince. "I
didn't even notice."

It was, he realized, a major step for her.
She probably hadn't started a day without thinking about her
routine in years.

"That's good, Red. That's real good."

Deep down, he was worried to death. Why now?
Would she try to credit his presence with her progress, and want
more than he could give?

IF REGINALD D'VOE'S Gothic mansion had been
eerie before, it had graduated to movie-quality horror. The front
lawn had been converted into a graveyard, with giant tombstones of
aging, chipped granite. They looked so real that Vince put his hand
on one as they walked past, just to be sure. Polystyrene. The
ground had vanished. It swam beneath layers of ghostly mist,
generated, no doubt, by a professional-quality fog machine. The
sour chords of a pipe organ played backup to the heartbroken wail
of a pack of wolves. Every window of the house was occupied by a
glowing jack-o'-lantern, each one wearing a different gruesome
expression. It was damned creepy, to be frank.

Vince walked through the open iron gates,
along the path, barely able to see his feet. He wondered vaguely if
any of the props had been in place the last time he'd been here.
Then again, he hadn't exactly been in good enough shape to notice.
His ribs were still a little tender.

Holly walked beside him, Jerry bringing up
the rear. She still hadn't said much. Nothing in fact, about what
had happened between them the night before, and while he thought
that was what he wanted, it was driving him to distraction.

"You still all right with things?" he asked
her softly, leaning a little closer, keeping his voice low.

She glanced up at him, eyes dark and
unreadable. "I'm not all right with much of anything right now.
There's a killer on the loose, my mother's in the hospital, my old
methods of dealing aren't working anymore. No. I'm kind of far from
all right. But I'm hanging in there."

He nodded. He thought about correcting her,
telling her he meant to ask if she was still all right with what
had happened between them last night, until he thought about how
lame that sounded, given the dire situation they were facing.
Later. There would be time later.

As costumes went, theirs were sadly lacking.
Holly had thrown on a red wool cloak with a hood, and added a
basket as a prop. Vince wore a cape in houndstooth checks, and the
Sherlock Holmes trademark deerstalker hat his partner had found for
him when they'd gone out costume shopping this morning. In a small
town, on Halloween day, Vince figured they were lucky to have
scored anything at all. Jerry had tried to get him to add a
curving, trumpet-bowled pipe to the ensemble, but Vince had pushed
his limits already. All Jerry had managed to come up with for
himself were a bowler hat and a bow tie. Dr. Watson would be
mortified.

As they walked, the music grew louder, and
Vince swore that the bat that swooped down making him duck
reflexively was real. They hit the first step. An owl hooted three
times, and then the heavy hardwood door slowly groaned open.
Morticia Addams stepped into the doorway, but when she smiled, he
saw Amanda D'Voe underneath the raven wig and heavy makeup. "Good
evening," she intoned. "Velcome." Stepping back, she swept her arm
inward, black fabric trailing.

"You look great, Amanda," Holly said. But
Vince noticed she was looking at him more often than Amanda. Maybe
looking at him looking at Amanda, he thought.

As soon as they stepped inside, the
atmosphere was different. Little goblins in every shape, size, and
model were laughing and shrieking in turn. One group wore plastic
ponchos over their costumes, bobbing for apples in the room's
center. Another bunch gathered around a large table carving
pumpkins with safety knives, under parental supervision. More were
seated at a table near a Gypsy fortune teller who read their palms.
The Gypsy bore a striking resemblance to the crabby town librarian,
Maddie Baker.

One little witch raced up to Holly and
bounded up and down with glee. "Everybody loves my costume, Holly!
It's fantastic!"

"Well, stand back so I can see!" Smiling,
Holly held the little girl by her shoulders, and examined her. She
was dressed as the Wicked Witch of the West, complete with green
face, long nose, striped socks, and singed broomstick. Her conical
black hat sported a thin dusting of green glitter, and had a tiny
furry spider dangling from its brim by a length of silver
thread.

"You're gorgeous."

Bethany giggled. "Am not!" Then she raced off
to join a group of friends. A woman cleared her throat, drawing
Vince's gaze. He recognized the woman as Bethany's mother, Val
Stevens, even though she wore braids and gingham. Dorothy, he
presumed.

"Thank you so much for helping Bethany with
the costume, Holly. I wouldn't have been able to do half the job
you did."

"You did a fantastic job on the makeup, Val,"
Holly said. "And you look great, too!"

"Oh, this." She glanced down at herself.
"Bethany insisted. If she'd had her way we'd have bought a puppy to
play Toto, too." Lifting her gaze again, her expression grew more
serious. "I heard your mother was taken to the hospital. How is she
doing?"

Holly sighed. "She's sedated, resting."

"What happened? God, she seemed fine the last
time I saw her."

Holly searched for a plausible answer.
"Stress, really. An irregular heartbeat. They're doing tests."

Val sighed long and low. "I'm so sorry. She's
strong, you know. I mean, to have come through what she has— she
must be stronger than I can even imagine. God, to survive losing a
child..." Her gaze strayed to where Bethany was dancing with
friends to
The Monster Mash,
and Val bit her lower lip. "I
think it would kill me if I lost Bethany."

"You never know what you can survive until it
happens," Holly said softly.

"Oh, I know, I know. All I meant was, if your
mom came through all of that, she's going to handle whatever this
new problem is just fine."

Her eyes asked for more details. Holly just
gave the woman's hand a squeeze and said, "Thank you for that, Val.
I know you're right." Then she took Vince's hand, clutching it
tightly, and led him toward the refreshment table.

He gave her hand an automatic squeeze and she
sent him a grateful look.

The neon-green punch had blocks of ice the
size and shape of human hands floating in it. Vince dipped her out
a glass, handed it to her. Jerry helped himself. "So, is there
anyone in particular we should be watching, Vince?"

Vince shrugged, looking around. "Where's
Reggie?"

"Oh, he'll make his big entrance soon. He
likes to wait for all the kids to arrive, give them some time to
enjoy the party for a while first. Or at least that's the way Aunt
Jen told me it always used to work." Holly glanced at her watch.
"Any time now, if he's true to history."

Vince nodded, looking around at the
costume-clad adults, trying to get a solid grip on who was who in
case he needed to know later. Doc Graycloud was in character. He
wore a huge coyote's head like a hood, its yellow teeth bared in a
perpetual smile, black marble eyes shining, gray-brown fur hanging
down and forming a cape that ended in a long, thick tail. Vince
stared for a long moment, trying to decide if it was a manufactured
pelt, or a real one, and then decided he didn't really want to
know. Holly's uncle Marty was easy to spot. He came as a
lumberjack, flannel shirt and suspenders, a rubber axe in one hand.
He'd darkened his cheeks and chin to depict whiskers, and wore a
knit cap on his head. Vince recognized others in the crowd as well,
over the next half hour. The teenaged waitresses from the cafe. The
kid who manned the gas pumps in town.

"Vince, Holly—how's it going?"

They both turned to see Chief Mallory
standing close to them, a plastic tumbler of punch in his hand. He
was eyeing Jerry curiously. "Who's this?"

"My partner, Jerry Donovan. Jerry, this is
Dilmun's chief of police, Jim Mallory."

Jerry nodded hello, shook Jim's hand.

"Where's your costume, Chief?" Vince
asked.

The man shrugged. "I came as a police chief."
He glanced at Holly. "How you holding up, hon?"

"I'm okay, but who's with Mom?"

"Your aunt Jen is there. Bill, too. He
relieved Ray of guard duty. Ray went home, got a few hours sleep,
and now he's here, outside, keeping an eye out for anything
suspicious. I thought it would be best we both attend this shindig,
see if anything comes up. No sense taking chances in case this
maniac really is in town, with all the kids here, I mean."

Holly nodded, but Vince felt the shiver that
went through her.

"What happened to the Feds you were
expecting?" the chief asked Vince.

"They think I’m full of hot air. I need solid
evidence to get them down here."

"Hell, I hope to God we never get any."

He stopped speaking as the lights flashed on
and off twice, and then remained off. Thunder rumbled like a drum
roll, and a tiny explosion blasted off at the top of the old
curving staircase. Smoke rolled, and when it cleared, Reginald
D'Voe stood there, his Dracula costume perfectly backlit, one side
of the cape drawn over the lower half of his face. He lowered it
slowly as he came down the stairs. If not for his noticeable limp,
it would have been perfect.

He spoke in a thick Transylvanian accent to
the rapt audience. "Children of the night. Velcome to my humble
abode! Now, if you have the courage to follow me, I vill lead you
on a journey among the living and the dead, where surprises and
perhaps a few treasures can be found!" He added his maniacal
laughter, and then led them all to the front door, out it, and down
the steps.

"Where's he taking them?" Vince asked, a
prickle of unease dancing up the back of his neck as he stepped out
into the night's chill.

"It's a parade around the yard," Amanda said,
startling him by speaking from nearby. “There's junk jewelry and
candy hidden in various spots, along with some theatrical scares.
Watch." She pointed.

Vince watched, as did the parents who were
all crowded onto and around the front steps. At every tombstone,
some creature would spring up, or a pre-recorded growl or shriek
would sound. Every kid screeched in horror and delight at each and
every stop along the way. The parade took them outside the house
and all the way around the mock cemetery that filled the front
lawn.

Vince relaxed a little as he watched. Even
when they got to the farthest reaches, where it was darker and more
difficult to see the children, he didn't get nervous. That
wrought-iron fence surrounded the whole lawn. And the chief's cop,
Ray, was out by the gate, keeping track of anyone coming or
going.

A hand emerged from the earth at one
tombstone. A ghostly apparition floated from another. Skeletons
leaped up and danced at one more. The children squealed, but left
each site with brand-new goodies for their bags.

The parade took the better part of an hour.
By the time they all marched back to the house, every child had a
bag full of treats, and most of the parents were wiped out, and had
taken refuge in the living room, near the fireplace to await their
return.

"Now what?" Vince asked as the little demons
and goblins were herded back into the house.

"Now, my children," Amanda intoned, almost as
if in answer to his question. "Come, come, gather near. It's time
for the Count to tell you a delightfully scary Halloween ghost
story. And when it's done, the party must end. And you know what
happens then?"

"Trick-or-treating!" the children
shouted.

Vince had to give his head a shake, and made
a mental note to have his hearing checked when he got his next
physical. Holly, beside him, laughed softly. "Reggie throws a hell
of a party."

"Come, little ones, gather round," Reggie
said in his heavily accented, scary voice. He was in an ancient
rocking chair now, sitting near the fireplace in his living
room.

"Man, I gotta bring my kids out here for this
next year," Jerry said. "They'd love this stuff."

"You ought to be with them tonight," Vince
said. "Instead of out here holding my hand."

"Kate's got it covered." Jerry looked at
Vince. "She knows we're trying to make it safer for all the little
demons, partner. She understands."