Free The Midnight Tour by Richard Laymon Page A

it.”
    “People ask about it?”
    “All the time.”
    “Oh, great.”
    “Some are genuinely curious and figure we’ve got the inside scoop. But some of them just want to watch us squirm. A lot of guys think it’s a real hoot.”
    “But I’m not supposed to confirm or deny?”
    “Right. Suggest they either sign up for the Midnight Tour, or read the books.”
    “And push the Midnight Tour?” Dana asked, grinning.
    “Yes! Please! My God! At every opportunity!”
    “Is it any good?”
    “Is it any good? It’s great! I’m great! And I tell all! Besides which, people haven’t experienced Beast House until they’ve been here at midnight.”
    “Can’t wait.”
    “Oh, you’ll love it.”
    “Sure I will.”
    Tuck laughed, then asked, “Ready to go?”
    “Go where?”
    “This way.” She uncrossed her ankles, pushed off from the door with her rump, and headed across the foyer toward the parlor. “I always do a quick walk-through first thing in the morning before we open her up...make sure everything’s the way it ought to be. We don’t want to have any surprises.”
    Dana followed her into the parlor.
    “Top of the morning to you, Ethel,” Tuck greeted the body on the floor. “I hope you enjoyed a comfortable... uh - oh . What the hell?”
    “Oh, man,” Dana muttered.
    “See what I mean?” Tuck said, not sounding very upset. “Surprises.”
    Halfway across the parlor, behind a plush red cordon, the wax figure of Ethel Hughes lay sprawled on the floor. One bare leg was propped up on the cushion of the couch. Her eyes were wide open, her face contorted as if with agony or terror. Her white nightgown, drenched and splattered with bright red blood, was ripped open to reveal her bloody, torn skin.
    Not just her arms and belly and thighs.
    Her breasts.
    Her groin.
    Yesterday, those areas had been hidden beneath the tatters of Ethel’s bloody gown.
    “What happened?” Dana asked.
    “I don’t know,” Tuck said, her voice hushed. She glanced over her shoulder and out the doorway.
    Dana looked, too. She saw only the empty foyer.
    When Tuck walked toward the body, Dana stayed close to her side. They stopped at the red cordon a few feet away from the exhibit.
    “Somebody must’ve wanted to check out her anatomy,” Tuck said.
    “She sure looks real.”
    Frowning, nodding, Tuck muttered, “Maggie was a stickler for details. She started out with nothing but store dummies. But they weren’t good enough. She ordered the realistic wax bodies as soon as she could afford it. They were supposed to be authentic in every detail.”
    “Looks like they are .”
    “You know why she wanted them anatomically correct?”
    “No, why?”
    “Cause she was nuts.” With a laugh, Tuck stepped over the rope. “Actually, I think she wanted to make her exhibits match the crime scene photos.” Crouching beside the body, she lifted a torn flap of white fabric and draped it between Ethel’s legs. “That would’ve meant showing everything, so she ordered the wax figures with all their private parts in place. But then she must’ve changed her mind and decided to cover them up.” She carefully placed another strip of white linen over Ethel’s groin. “They sure wrecked the nightgown,” she said.
    “Could’ve fooled me.”
    “It’s about twice as ripped up as it’s supposed to be.”
    She started to rearrange the shreds to cover the dummy’s breasts.
    “Doesn’t look like they damaged Ethel, though. She seems all right. We’ll have to see about replacing the gown, though.”
    “Is it the original?” Dana asked.
    “No. A replica. Thank goodness for that. Janice moved all the original clothes over to her museum a long time ago. I thought it was a mistake, you know? And I told her so. I thought they should stay in their real death gamments. Guess she was right and I was wrong.”
    Tuck stood up, took a couple of steps backward, and peered down at the body. “How does it look to you?” she asked.
    “Lewd