In truth, they were all getting bombed, and Sam knew it was time to slip away. Things were starting to seem a little off-balance, more than a little surreal. And it was getting late, although he’d had no sense of time passing. He was going to be seriously hurting tomorrow morning.
He looked over at Melody, who was watching him with a concerned expression.
“Maybe you should go to bed,” she whispered, which wasn’t necessary because the music was so loud.
He nodded. Time for a day of horror and questionable decisions to end. “Hey, Rolf,” he shouted to get his attention.
“What’s up, Telegram Sam, do you need another drink?” he shouted back.
Sam looked up at the ceiling-mounted speakers and made a slashing gesture. Rolf cut the music. “I need to go to bed. If I don’t, I’m going to regret it.”
“Yeah, it’s getting pretty late, and I still have some work to do on the script.” He knocked back a shot of something green and licked his lips. “But man, we had fun, didn’t we? That’s nothing to regret.”
“I think it might be. We’ll see in the morning.”
“Thanks for everything, Rolf,” Melody said kindly, her words slurring slightly.
His face twisted in an impish smile. “Hey, before we all hit it, I want to show you something I’m considering using as a set piece in the film. It will really blow your mind.”
Sam shook his head, a definitive no. He’d had enough of that action lately.
“The pool with the waterfall?” Melody asked.
“No, this is way better. It really gets the creative juices flowing. Come on, let me take you into Pops’s office. It’ll just take a second.”
They reluctantly followed him down a broad, dim hallway that had a decidedly spooky, haunted mansion feel. He pushed open two double doors and gestured them into a relatively small room—only half the size of a football field—but it was dark and the only thing visible in the ambient light from the hall were book-lined shelves and a massive desk.
Rolf clicked on a switch and a spotlight illuminated a corner, revealing a grotesque, terrifying specter: a life-sized human body stripped down to bone, muscle, and sinew.
Melody screamed, and Sam felt a sudden, startling fury consume him. “What the fuck is wrong with you, taking us to see some fucked-up movie prop before we go to bed? You stupid son of a bitch!”
Rolf’s face fell and he backed up a few steps. “It’s not a prop, it’s a real person. That’s why it’s so cool. That’s why I thought you’d want to see it.”
“It’s … a real person?” Melody squeaked.
“Haven’t you heard of Body Worlds? Gunther von Hagens? He’s an anatomist who came up with this technique called ‘plastination’ that preserves bodies. He’s really famous and has exhibitions all over the world.”
“You think that’s cool?” Sam asked in a shaky voice.
“It is cool. It’s amazing. Educational. Inspiring. It helped me get off smack, seeing how delicate the body really is.”
“This can’t be legal.”
“Sure it is. All the bodies are donated. This stuff is in museums. Pops was able to get one for his private collection because Gunther is a good friend of his.”
Sam felt Melody’s hand tugging on his arm. “We’re going to go to bed now, Rolf. Good night.”
He trotted after them. “Hey, look, I’m really sorry if I freaked you out, I just thought … people wait in line for hours and hours to see Body Worlds, and half of them don’t ever get in. You might never get to see it, and I wanted to give you the chance. And I wanted to know your opinion about how it could work for the film.”
Melody turned around. “If your film is a horror movie, it’s perfect. I accept your apology, Rolf, but you don’t spring things like that on people out of the blue.”
“I wasn’t thinking. I hope there are no hard feelings.”
“We’ll see you in the morning, Rolf.”
A small woman in a maid’s uniform came scurrying down the hall. “Señor, is everything okay? I thought I heard a scream.”
“Everything’s fine, Consuela, we just had a scare. These are my friends who are staying the night, Sam and Melody.”
She looked at them both, and for a very brief moment an expression of horror or shock or both passed over her face. Then it was gone. “You sure you’re okay, Miss?”
“I’m fine. Thank you.”
She bobbed her head, then rushed away.
Sam knew the look; he’d seen it plenty of times before. Consuela probably felt the same way about seeing his face as he did about seeing a dead body in somebody’s office. If you weren’t prepared for either one, it was a shock.
“I’m sorry about Consuela, too,” Rolf said, watching her retreat down the hall. “That was so rude, the way she looked at you. Normally she wouldn’t do anything like that, but she hasn’t been herself since she found one of her clients dead.”
Chapter Sixty-one
MELODY SAT ON THE EDGE OF Sam’s bed and put her head in her hands.
“God, that was so freaky.” She looked up at him. Mascara made raccoon rings around her eyes. “I don’t think I want to be here anymore.”
Sam pulled two bottles of water out of the bar fridge and passed her one. “We can leave right now. I’ll call Nolan. I’m sure she’d be happy to pick us up.”
“Sam, you’re drunk, too, and you don’t want to tangle with the cops now.”
“Why not? I wouldn’t be the first person to get drunk after someone they loved was murdered. And it would explain why I dropped off the face of the earth.”
“You can explain it tomorrow. Sleep it off, it will be better that way.” She stood up and started pacing. “I was actually having fun until that … thing.”
“Rolf is an idiot and he’s drunk, which compounds the fundamental problem.”
“I guess.” Melody stepped out onto the balcony and Sam joined her. She pointed to the lights illuminating the windows of a stone cottage below, partially obscured by jacaranda trees. “That must be the guest house.”
“Rolf’s burning the midnight oil.”
“Do you think he has talent?”
“I’m not the best judge, but yeah, I think he does. But he needs to work on his social skills.”
“Dylan and Bunny.” She shook her head. “We should try to get some sleep.”
“Yeah.”
“See you in the morning.”
“Night, Mel. And if you don’t want to be alone, you can always come in here. I’ll sleep on the sofa.”
“Thanks, I’m okay.”
“Just knock if you change your mind.”
After she’d left, Sam flopped onto the bed and stared up at the canopy. It made him feel claustrophobic, even in a room this large, and it made his head spin and his stomach roil. God, he’d fucked up, getting drunk. He’d fucked up coming here in the first place, and he had zero confidence in his ability to make rational decisions anymore. It was like that part of his brain had shriveled up and died.