Then . . .
“Monkey man.”
“Moooonkey man.”
“Broke the promise, monkey man.”
Someone out there in the dark screamed. And screamed. And screamed.
* * *
* * *
Aggie had wanted to stay in the kitchen with Jozi, Eddie, Kira, and Cougar, but Miss Vicki was being so brave dealing with the Five by herself that Aggie felt she needed to be brave too and help Conan keep an eye on the guests.
She wouldn’t have thought of this particular bit of human sneakiness if she hadn’t seen it on a cop and crime show—who would be sneaky about something like that?—but she had slipped into the TV room before the humans arrived, prepared for the moment when one of them would make the request.
“But I have to go,” Wilma Cornley whined. “Right now.”
Aggie picked up the bucket she had tucked behind a chair and set it in front of Wilma. She removed the roll of toilet paper she’d stashed in the bucket and held it out to the human female. “It’s the accommodation used in the primitive cabins when humans don’t want to go out to the toilets at night. You’re responsible for cleaning your pee or poop out of the bucket. If we have to do it, we’ll dump your mess in your luggage.”
For a moment, she thought the Wilma female was going to slap her—or try to—but a growl from Conan killed that action.
“I’ll wait,” Wilma said, baring her teeth.
Since Aggie’s beak was sharper than those teeth, it wasn’t much of a threat. Shrugging, she left the bucket and retreated with the toilet paper. With the roads closed, humans were getting panicky about toilet paper, so it was better not to leave something valuable unattended.
Conan growled again as he turned toward the door. Then his arms became thicker and furrier, and his hands changed to paws with claws. The paws weren’t as large as when Conan was in Bear form, but they would “get the job done”—a phrase she particularly liked.
“Sit down,” Conan’s voice rumbled as he eyed the humans in the room.
Three of Miss Vicki’s guests—the cabin people—immediately sat down. The other four began asking questions and wanting to know why they had to sit, why they had to wait, why, why, why.
They might have gone on like that all night if Conan hadn’t lost patience and swatted the David Shuman human into a chair. It was a light swat, and Conan barely raked the man with his claws, but Shuman stared at Conan, shocked, while three of the humans began to scream and shout—totally useless—and the cabin people rushed to help Shuman.
Michael Stern yanked off his sweater, then his T-shirt, and pressed the shirt against the wounds. That was good. It wouldn’t bother the terra indigene, but Miss Vicki wouldn’t be happy if bloodstains spoiled the chair’s fabric.
Handing the toilet paper to Jenna McKay in case it would be useful, Aggie dashed behind Conan and put one hand over her eyes before opening the door just enough to shout, “It’s okay, Miss Vicki. The situation is under control.”
That was another phrase she had heard in one of the cop shows.
She closed the door and leaned against it. Would Miss Vicki be upset with her because she had fibbed? Situations were seldom completely under control in The Jumble. That’s what made it so interesting to live here.
Then again, the person who had said that in the story had been fibbing too.
* * *
* * *
Chief? It’s Vicki. I’m really, really sorry, but it’s one of those phone calls.”
“Crap.”
More an exhaled breath than an actual word. Typical Grimshaw.
“What happened?” he asked, sounding cranky.
“I don’t know. Someone with a camera, trying to take pictures. I think. And then screaming.”
Lots of screaming. Horror movies never quite get that pitch of terror right. Probably for the best.
“Where are you?”
“In the main house. With the doors locked.”
“Stay there.” A barked order, as if he thought I was going to go outside.
On the other hand, there was some kind of commotion in the TV room, but Aggie said it was under control. I knew she meant the shit had hit the fan, but I was going to pretend to believe her until backup arrived.
I hung up the office phone, then went to the entrance area and sat on the floor in front of the reception desk. You can’t fall if you’re already on the floor when you faint.
Words to live by.
I just hoped, whatever had happened outside, no bits of dead human had gotten on the nice new books.
CHAPTER 43
Grimshaw
Watersday, Novembros 3
Grimshaw turned on his flashing lights and stepped on the gas.
“Message from Julian Farrow,” Ilya said. “Don’t come in hot. A car is blocking the access road, and he is backing up to put distance between his vehicle and the other one.”
“You get that from one of your boys?”
Ilya nodded. “From Viktor, who also reports that the other car does not have its lights on.”
Grimshaw’s mobile phone rang. “Answer that.”
Ilya picked up the phone. “This is Ilya. Yes, I’ll tell him. Are you hurt? That’s good. We’ll be there soon.”
“What?” Grimshaw snapped when Ilya ended the call and didn’t say anything.
“Victoria isn’t hurt, but she says we should call the EMTs or Dr. Wallace to tend to the guest that Conan Beargard swatted.”
Crap. “That’s not why she made the first call, and I’m not bringing the EMTs or Doc up here until I know what we’re facing.”
People were still sitting down to the evening meal, so it wasn’t that late despite the darkening sky. Asking the EMTs to make a call wouldn’t be as risky now as it would be in a few hours. Still, he didn’t want those men walking into a dangerous situation without good reason.
Spotting vehicle flashers at the turnoff for The Jumble, Grimshaw pulled onto the shoulder of the road, leaving The Jumble’s access road clear in case Julian needed to make a hasty retreat. Before getting out of the cruiser, he called the EMTs and Doc Wallace to put them on alert so they would be ready to roll the moment they got his second call—if they got a call. Considering what Vicki had said during that first phone call, he expected to be calling Ames Funeral Home and requesting a body pickup.
Grimshaw and Ilya left the cruiser and walked toward Julian’s car. Julian looked upset, but he said nothing when he stepped out of his car. Which was understandable. Right now they had no idea who was watching them—and listening.