“That’s what we get for allowing people who aren’t committed to play these roles,” she said as we exited down the hay bale path. “Playing the mummy correctly requires sacrifice, discomfort, and the ability to hold your bathroom needs for hours on end.”
I grinned. “Some people just don’t have the dedication.”
“Got that right,” she agreed.
We were approaching the last scene—the chain saw killer—when crap hit the fan. Or the hay bales.
I could hear the chain saw revving but knew it was perfectly safe because the blade had been removed. Quite frankly, everyone in Sinful knew that, but people loved to be scared so they screamed and ran and generally had a great time with it.
Except Celia.
Why Celia felt the need to go into the maze after what had happened last year, I have no idea. But then, Celia regularly showed up in places she had no business being. I heard a scream and was pretty sure I recognized it and looked over at Ida Belle and Gertie. It wasn’t the scream of someone having a good time. It was a real scream.
And it was coming straight for us.
Celia burst around the corner, her mouth wide open and the scream still echoing. It took me a second to recognize her, because she’d ditched the Rose Kennedy costume and was dressed as a pioneer girl—dress, apron, bonnet, and carrying a lantern.
And a skunk was chasing her.
Chapter Seven
I pivoted and bolted back down the path toward the mummy display. I could hear Ida Belle and Gertie running behind me and Celia’s mouth, locked in a permanent scream. When I got to the mummy scene, I jumped on top of the coffin and launched onto the top of the hay bales. Ida Belle followed suit and then Gertie gave it a whirl.
Kinda.
She made a sort of hopscotch jump onto the top of the coffin and yelled “Parkour!” but didn’t have the velocity to make the next jump onto the bales. She crashed into the side of the bales, then bounced backward into the coffin. The coffin wobbled for a second, then tipped over, spilling the mummy out into Celia’s path. Celia’s feet connected with the mummy and she went flying face-first into a hay bale wall, where her lantern broke.
Her lantern with a real fire!
The hay bale went up in flames as the confused skunk ran into the middle of the scene and decided everything looked like a threat. He turned around in circles, letting out a toxic stream as he went. Gertie leaped up, jumped over the coffin, then dropped and rolled inside, closing the lid behind her. The poor mummy couldn’t even stand, he was so wrapped up, and finally resorted to rolling facedown, probably to protect his eyes from spray. Celia pushed herself up and half ran, half hobbled out of the scene, the skunk hurrying after her.
Walter and Scooter ran into the maze with fire extinguishers and sprayed foam on the blaze, getting Ida Belle and me in the fray. When only the lantern remained burning, Ronald ran in, wearing a Thor costume, and smacked it with his giant hammer. He looked up at us and shook his head.
“You guys are so rough on clothes,” he said. “I’m never lending you anything.”
Ida Belle and I jumped off the hay bales and shook the foam off our arms and heads. Walter and Scooter helped the mummy up and he shuffled off, probably high from the fumes on all that wrapping.
“I’m pretty sure I’ll never have the need for your level of finery,” I said to Ronald. “Although this outfit is a departure. What’s up with that?”
“Thor is awesome,” Ronald said.
“So is Chris Hemsworth,” Gertie said as she crawled out of the coffin.
We all nodded.
“You know,” Gertie began, “there was this almost-nude picture—”
“Nope!” Walter said and held his hand up. Then he and Scooter shook their heads and left before Gertie could finish her comment. Ronald looked disappointed but decided he needed to get home to fumigate his costume before the smell of burnt hay and skunk set in.
“Looks like our night is over since Ida Belle and I need a shower,” I said as we made our way out.
“Finally, I’m the one with clean clothes,” Gertie said.
“It was a fluke,” Ida Belle said. “Don’t get used to it.”
“I wonder how far that skunk chased Celia,” I said.
“Hopefully into the next parish,” Gertie said.
We scanned the area as we exited the maze. A crowd that had gathered was starting to wander away and I couldn’t hear any more screaming, so I assumed Celia had either collapsed somewhere and the unfortunate paramedics were dealing with her again, or she’d run all the way home.
Because we knew how Ida Belle felt about her SUV, we elected to walk home, and as we left the park, I saw a familiar woman duck into a big pickup truck.
“Whose vehicle is that?” I asked. “The big blue truck.”
“That’s Judith’s,” Ida Belle said. “I thought she was leaving a while back.”
I nodded. “That’s what she said.”
“Must have gotten caught up with someone,” Gertie said. “At least she got to see the show this time. Or hear it. Judith loathes Celia almost as much as she does locusts.”
“That’s pretty stern words when it’s a farmer you’re putting them on,” I said.
“Celia’s tried to cause trouble for farmers before,” Gertie said.
“What a shocker,” I said. “Celia trying to make trouble for people.”
“That’s not the big reason, though,” Gertie said. “You see, Judith’s family is Catholic and when her dad died, Celia raised hell over them having his funeral service in the church.”
“Why in the world would Celia care where the man’s funeral was held?” I asked.
“Celia claimed Judith’s dad cheated on her mom and shouldn’t be allowed a ‘Godly’ service,” Gertie said.
“Good Lord, if you denied sinners a funeral service in the church, there wouldn’t be any,” I said.
“Which is exactly what the priest told her,” Ida Belle said. “But Judith has hated Celia ever since.”
“Can’t say that I blame her,” I said. “That’s pretty low. The woman’s dad dies and Celia tries to sully his reputation and take away his right to a religious funeral. That’s crappy even for Celia.”
Gertie nodded. “We always figured there was something else going on there that we didn’t know, but whatever it was, Celia wouldn’t tell what the bug up her butt was over.”
“Probably something imagined or lied about,” I said. “Celia’s not a fan of seeking the truth, especially if it doesn’t suit her narrative.”
Gertie grinned. “It’s like you’ve been here all your life.”
I laughed. “People like Celia are easy to spot coming. They’re miserable and seek to bring everyone down into the mudhole they’re wallowing in. It’s the quiet ones who are always pleasantly smiling that make me nervous.”
“Me too,” Ida Belle agreed.
We reached the intersection where we all needed to head different directions and Ida Belle looked at me.
“I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning for church,” she said.