Outfoxing the Phantom
by
October 7 th
Chet sang along with the radio as he drove up the Pacific Coast Highway . “Isn't this great, Marco?” he said to his passenger. “Three days soaking up rays and eyeballing the cuties on Carpinteria Beach . I'm glad you decided to come along.”
Marco grinned and rolled down his window, letting the breeze ruffle his thick, black hair. “Did you remember to bring sunscreen?” he chuckled. “Last time we went to the beach, you forgot and ended up looking like a boiled lobster. Camping with a sunburn can be pretty uncomfortable, amigo .”
“Yeah, tell me about it,” replied Kelly. “I wish I'd never promised your sister that we would meet her and Cap at that place. What is it called again?”
“ Limekiln State Park . You could have said no, Chet,” reminded Lopez. “Lou didn't have to ask us to come, you know. This is the first real vacation she and Cap have had without the kids in a long time.”
“Then why did she ask the whole crew to tag along?” persisted Chet stubbornly. “You'd think they'd want some privacy.”
“That's why they left two days ago,” sighed the Latino fireman. “The rest of us won't arrive until Monday afternoon. Even though my sister just started her new job, it was nice of Dr. Brady to let her take some time off, don't you think?”
The Irishman grinned. “Yeah, it was,” he agreed. “She was telling me and Stoker about the research they're working on last week. I had no clue what she was talking about, but it sure sounded exciting!”
“I didn't understand it either, until she gave me a crash course in basic terminology and cell mutation,” smiled Marco. “Even John and Roy had to ask what some of the terms meant, and they're paramedics!”
“I bet Gage wouldn't have to ask what those are!” snickered Chet as he pulled into the beach parking lot. A cluster of bikini-clad women stood next to a shiny black Thunderbird convertible. He jumped out of the van, waving to the girls with a bright smile. “Looking good, ladies!” he called.
“Right back at ya, honey!” a buxom redhead hollered back. “We're going surfing! You guys wanna join us?”
“We'd love to!” gushed the Irishman, ignoring his friend's protests. “Maybe you could give us some pointers!”
“Are you out of your mind?” hissed Marco. “You've never surfed in your life, Chet!”
“How hard can it be, pal?” retorted Kelly. “You paddle a board out until a wave comes along and you ride it back in. Piece of cake!”
“I'll have them carve that on your tombstone after you drown,” grumbled Lopez. “I wish I had thought to bring a camera.” He grabbed a duffel bag from the van and walked across the beach, looking for a place to sit down. He spread a towel on the sand and settled back to watch.
An hour later, Chet had mastered the basics and was laughing with delight as he crested a huge wave, shifting his weight to keep his balance. The redhead, who had introduced herself as Marla, cheered him on, never taking her eyes off her new friend. “He's pretty good for a beginner,” she commented to Marco. “You wanna give it a try?”
The Latino fireman shook his head. “No, thanks.” He reached into his bag and pulled out a thick book. “I'd rather stay here and look at this.”
Marla leaned over to study the volume, her eyes widening. “ 'The Role of Hematology in the Diagnosis and Treatment of Acute Lymphocytic Leukemia'? Sounds complicated. Are you a doctor?” she asked.
“No, I'm a fireman down in Los Angeles County ,” answered Marco with a smile. “This belongs to my sister. She works in a medical lab. She's part of a team trying to find new ways to treat different kinds of cancer.”
“She must be really smart then,” chuckled the redhead. “I flunked out of nursing school because I couldn't handle all the terminology. I wouldn't know the difference between a healthy cell and a diseased one if my life depended on it.”
“Me neither,” admitted Lopez with a laugh. “I just smile and nod when she talks about the research the team is doing and then ask her to translate. Even then, I still don't understand about eighty percent of it.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Limekiln State Park
Louisa leaned against a tree, wiping sweat from her forehead. “Whew, what a work-out!” she panted when Hank caught up with her. “Sitting in a lab all day is making me soft,” she joked.
“I thought I was in shape before you made me climb this mountain with you, sweetheart,” gasped the Captain. “When did Mother Nature move Everest to California ?”
The young woman laughed. “We're not up that high, hose jockey,” she teased. She pushed away from the tree and pointed up the trail. “There's a clearing about a quarter mile from here. We can rest there for a while before we head back to our campsite. Tag, you're it!” she yelled, slapping her husband's arm and sprinting away, disappearing behind a clump of bushes.
“Slow down, honey!” called Hank. He trudged after her, the muscles in his legs screaming in protest. “I sure hope I remembered to pack some aspirin,” he grumbled. “I'm gonna be feeling this tonight.”
Louisa crested the top of the hill and stopped, gasping in awe at the spectacular view laid out before her. “It's like being on top of the world,” she breathed. A bald eagle screamed from a nearby tree and swooped down to pluck a fish from the lake below. The majestic bird carried its prize back to its nest and began to feed. “Hank, did you see that? Wasn't it incredible?”
Captain Stanley nodded silently, his eyes focused on a small herd of deer grazing several yards away. “It's beautiful up here,” he commented. A rustling sound caught his attention and he turned to see a mother bear and two cubs making their way out of the brush. The carnivore gave them a cursory glance, then went back to foraging. “That's right, Mama; just go on your way. Uh, Lou, that's not a grizzly, is it?”
“No, Hank, that's a black bear,” answered his wife with a grin. “They're not as bad-tempered as grizzlies, but it's still not wise to get between any mother and her cubs. If you upset her, she might use your guts for garters.”
“Thank you so much for pointing that out,” joked Hank sarcastically. “Are you ready to head back, Nature Girl?” he teased. “I plan to make the most of our time alone before the others get here and spoil it.”
“I thought we could hike down to the lake and catch some fish for supper,” giggled Louisa. “A nice juicy bass roasting over an open fire just makes my mouth water.”
“Keep it up, sweetheart,” muttered the Captain. “If you don't behave, I'll have to give you a spanking!”
“Is that a threat or a promise?” answered the young woman, her eyes twinkling brightly. “I haven't had a good beating in a while. I might take you up on that. What else do you have in store for me?”
“Follow me to our tent and I'll show you,” leered Stanley .
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Two Days Later
Roy and Mike shouldered their knapsacks and waited for Johnny to lock up his Rover. The engineer took a deep breath, filling his lungs with pine-scented air. Desoto copied his actions, a grin lighting up his face. “I wish Jo was here to enjoy this,” he said. “She has no idea what she's missing!”
Stoker laughed. “When I told Lara where we were going, she said she would rather stay home than tramp around in the poison ivy! She never was much for camping out anyway.”
“Her loss,” answered Gage. “Hey, Mike, your sister didn't happen to mention what she has planned for Chet, did she? When I asked her, she just smirked and told me it would be something to remember.”
“I got the same answer,” chuckled Mike. “Marco couldn't get her to talk, either. I doubt she even told Cap.”
“It must be really big, then,” commented Roy . “I just hope it doesn't involve blood, fangs, or my neck as the main course. You guys ready?”
“Lead on, Pally,” said Johnny. “Lou marked the trail for us, see?” he added, pointing to a branch. “Just follow the yellow ribbon road. Ya think we'll meet the Great and Powerful Oz?” he snickered.
“Only if you're wearing a gingham dress and ruby slippers, Junior,” shot back Desoto.
“Lions and tigers and bears, oh my!” quipped Stoker. “Oh, we're off to see the Wizard, the wonderful Wizard of Oz,” he sang, giggling foolishly as he skipped down the trail. “Auntie Em! Uncle Henry!” he shouted. “Where are you?”
“I think someone should have refused that last cup of coffee,” muttered Roy .
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Louisa's jaw dropped when she heard an off-key voice singing that there was no place like home. Her eyes widened comically as her brother danced into view, bellowing the tune at the top of his lungs. Before she could ask him what in the heck he was doing, Roy and Johnny appeared, twirling like demented ballerinas. The young woman turned to look at her husband. Hank's mouth was twitching and the second he met his wife's gaze, his composure crumbled and he burst out laughing, holding his sides as he rolled around in the dirt.
Mike stopped on the edge of the clearing and bent at the waist, sweeping off an imaginary top hat. “Pardon me, ma'am, but is this the way to the Emerald City ?” he questioned solemnly. “My friends and I lost our way in a field of poppies.”
“Look, Tin Man!” shouted Roy , grabbing his partner's arm. “We found Dorothy, but I don't see Toto around here anywhere!”
“Yes, Scarecrow, you're right!” hollered Johnny. “Who's this guy? He sure doesn't look like Glinda the Good Witch!”
“What have you twits been smoking?!?” sputtered Louisa. “Have you gone completely insane?”
“”That's not Dorothy!” squeaked Desoto. “It's the Wicked Witch of the West! She's come to reclaim the ruby slippers!”
The young woman grinned and decided to play along. “How about a little fire, Scarecrow?” she cackled, snatching up a burning branch and waving it at him. “I'll get you, my pretty, and your little dog, too!” The absurdity of the little scene filtered through her surprise and she started giggling, tears streaming down her cheeks.
Captain Stanley sat up and wiped his eyes breathlessly. “That's the funniest thing I've seen since Chet bathed in motor oil! You guys are nuts!”
“Birds of a feather, honey,” joked Louisa, still laughing. “Oh man, I wish I could have captured your performance on tape! I could sell it to every guy in the Department and make a tidy sum. How do you like this title? The Effect of the Wizard of Oz on the Typical Fireman . You know, that would explain why fire engines are red!'
“Good point, Lou,” put in Johnny. “We could make all the engineers dress like Dorothy. Stoker can be our test case.”
The young woman snorted. “Nah, he'd never be able to pull it off. He doesn't have the legs for it.”
“Sure I do,” argued Mike. “I can shave, but it might be tough finding a pair of size thirteen ruby slippers. Besides, it's too hard to drive in heels.”
“And you know this how?” guffawed Hank. “Never mind, I don't want to know.”
“Know what?” said Chet. “What's going on?”
“Never mind, Irish,” grinned Louisa. “Nice sunburn, pal. I especially like the blisters on your nose. Forget the sunscreen again?”
“I told you she'd figure it out, amigo ,” snickered Marco. “My sister's not only beautiful, she's got brains, too.”
“Why, thank you, big brother,” chuckled the young woman. “You're so sweet, it makes my teeth ache. Come on, I've got something to show you. The rest of you come, too. Hank, why don't you get a fire going so we can eat before is gets too dark. We won't be long.”
“Yes, dear,” muttered the Captain. “Keep your eyes open for Mama Bear and her brood.”
“Mama Bear?” echoed Johnny. “What's he talking about?”
“We had a close encounter with a creature that definitely wasn't Yogi,” smiled Louisa. She lead the way up to the clearing and pointed. “Drink it in, boys. Ain't it incredible? If you guys are up to it, maybe we could hike down to that lake and go swimming tomorrow.”
“Sounds good to me,” answered Mike. “Are those deer I see? Looks like a buck and three, no, four, doe.”
“Yeah, Hank and I saw them, too,” replied his sister. “We heard a pack of wolves howling last night; at least, I think they were wolves.” She nudged Gage and winked, cutting her eyes towards Chet. The paramedic grinned and winked back. “Could be,” he nodded. “I heard they were making a come-back in this area.”
Kelly swallowed hard and looked around nervously. “But they're scared of humans, right?” he gulped. “If we don't bother them, they'll leave us alone?”
“It all depends on how hungry they are, Chet,” answered Louisa soberly, turning away to hide her smirk. “Just to be safe, we all better stay in camp tonight. I guess my midnight swim is out.”
Roy 's eyebrows shot up and he opened his mouth to protest. Before he could get the words out, Johnny elbowed him and shook his head. The senior paramedic caught on and grinned. “Good idea,” he said. “We can always sit around the fire and tell ghost stories.”
The Irishman brightened immediately. “Man, have I got a doozy!” he exclaimed, unaware that he was being set up. “I hope you brought lots of marshmallows, Lou! I got some graham crackers and chocolate bars in my pack. We can make s'mores!” He turned and ran down the trail, whooping with delight.
“Will someone please tell me what's going on?” questioned Marco. “You and I both know there haven't been wolves in this part of the state for decades, Louisa.”
The young woman laughed and patted him on the back. “All part of the plan,” she giggled. “If Chet thinks that it's dangerous to venture out of camp, it will make scaring him all that much easier! If he jumps at every little sound he hears, he won't catch on that this is all an elaborate prank. Get it?”
The Latino fireman stared at her for a minute, then snickered. “You'd do anything in your power to scare the living daylights out of Chet, but you wouldn't help McConikee torment Marlowe? Better watch yourself, kid; your horns are showing. What do you want us to do?”
“Just follow my lead,” instructed Louisa. “Whatever I say, go along with it and act like you're freaked out.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Later That Night
“That was some meal, honey,” said Hank, patting his stomach. “I've never had stew like that before. What kind of meat did you use?”
His wife smiled wickedly. “Are you sure you want to know? It's not something you can get at the neighborhood grocery store. Most butchers don't like carving up Thumper and his furry little pals.”
“Who cares what's in it?” commented Roy . “It was delicious.”
“I'm glad you enjoyed it, Roy . We might be eating venison soon, if we're lucky,” answered Louisa. “I bought a big-game license before we left L.A. , so I plan to go hunting tomorrow morning. Anyone want to go with me?”
Chet leaned back on his elbows and smirked. “Question is, can you bring yourself to kill Bambi?” he joked. “I thought you liked animals.”
“I must, if I hang out with you, Kelly,” she retorted playfully. “Deer may be beautiful, but they also happen to taste good. Where do you think meat comes from? The Protein Fairy?”
“Speaking of fairies, did you know that they can bewitch humans?” inserted Mike. “They lure unsuspecting men into a ring of mushrooms and take them down into their world. He can either become the Fairy Queen's slave or die.”
“I don't believe in little men, Michael, but I have heard that strange things happen in this area,” said Louisa. “Back during the late 1840's and early 1850's, men mining for gold disappeared under mysterious circumstances. From what I understand, they came up here to hunt and never returned to their camps. They were never seen again, living or dead, because no trace of their bodies were ever found. According to local legend, they still roam these woods, trying to find a way out. Hundreds of people have reported seeing men dressed in Gold Rush period clothing and carrying old-fashioned rifles walking on the trails over the years. When someone calls out to them, they just vanish into thin air.”
The Irishman snorted in disbelief. “There's no such thing as a ghost,” he stated crossly. “Those people just have over-active imaginations. They were probably hallucinating or something.”
“You're wrong, Kelly,” growled the young woman, her face darkening. “I've seen spirits with my own eyes and I can tell you they are very real. About a year after I moved to Montana , I went to Gettysburg and saw a lot of things that had no rational explanation. While I was there, I toured the southern end of the park on horseback and came upon what I thought was a bunch of re-enactors engaging in a mock battle. I figured I would be in the way if I kept going, so I stopped in a small stand of trees to watch. While I was sitting there, a group of men wearing blue uniforms rode by yelling like demons and shooting at everything in sight. One of them saw me and told me to get back to town before I got myself killed. I didn't pay much attention, thinking it was all part of the show. I heard a gunshot and this fella toppled out of the saddle and landed on the ground like he was really dead. I thought that maybe he had hurt himself when he fell and went over to see if he was okay. He didn't react when I shook him, so I turned him over and that's when I saw it.”
“What did you see?” murmured Johnny, goose bumps raising on his arms.
Louisa shuddered, her face turning white. “Half his head had been blown away,” she whispered faintly. “His face was nothing but a mess of blood, brains, and splintered bone. I checked for a pulse out of habit, but he was stone dead. I can't explain it, but, somehow, I was right in the middle of the battle. Anyway, I looked in his coat pocket. I found some papers and wrote down some of the information, including his identity. I did a little research and found out that a Union soldier died in that exact spot from a gunshot to the head. I checked the name and it matched the one on the papers I found.”
Marco stared her open-mouthed, his eyes huge. “ Madre de Dios ,” he gasped, crossing himself. “If I saw something like that, I'd have nightmares. Did you ever tell anyone about it?”
“Yeah, I mentioned it to one of the tour guides. He asked me to describe the soldier's uniform and any insignias or rank badges I might have noticed. I told him that the guy was wearing boots that went up over his knees and had sergeant's strips on his sleeves. I remember that he had a hat with a black ostrich plume on, too. The guide asked me if I would recognize the man's face if I saw a picture of him. I said that I probably would, because seeing a guy get his head blown off less than ten feet in front of you isn't something you really can forget. The guide showed me some pictures of soldiers who died during the battle. About halfway through the stack, I found an old photograph that looked just like the man I saw die. I got the shock of my life when I read the inscription written on the back. It said ‘Sergeant Amos Harper, killed July 2, 1863, near the Taneytown Road , Gettysburg '. The path I was riding on runs almost parallel to that very road.”
Hank shivered and added more wood to the fire. “If I saw something like that, I'd be…..what was that?” he said, breaking off when he heard a rustling sound coming from the bushes at the edge of the clearing, followed by an eerie chuckle. “Whoever's out there, show yourself right now!” he shouted.
The sinister laughter rose in volume as a man stepped into the circle of light thrown by the campfire. He wore dirt-caked denim pants, a threadbare flannel shirt, and a greasy loaf hat pulled down over his forehead. He carried an old flint lock rifle in one hand. “You mind if I warm myself by your fire?” he rasped. “I've been tramping these gol darn woods for hours, freezing my arse off. I was tracking a deer when I got turned around. Now I can't find my way out of here.”
Part 2
Louisa's eyes flew open wide when the figure sat on the ground beside her. “W-would you l-like some c-coffee?” she stammered. “I can m-make a f-fresh pot.”
The miner grinned at her and swept off his hat. “Much obliged, ma'am,” he answered politely. “I didn't know there was any women up here, ‘cept for the whores Miss Tillie offers.” He turned red and bowed his head. “Pardon me, ma'am. Spending so much time in the mining camps has eroded my manners a bit.”
“Think nothing of it,” murmured the young woman softly, her heart pounding. When the coffee was ready, she poured a cup and handed it to the miner. “Do you take cream or sugar?”
“No, ma'am; black is fine.” He looked across the fire, locking eyes with Chet. “See anything green, friend?” he asked mildly. “It ain't polite to stare.”
The Irishman shook his head and jumped to his feet. “Excuse me, call of nature,” he muttered. Marco followed him into the trees, fingering his rosary nervously. “Am I dreaming or is this really happening?” Kelly whispered to himself.
The Latino fireman rested his back against a tree and shivered. “If you are, amigo , we're having the same nightmare. I thought Lou made up that story just to scare us.”
“If she did, it sure worked,” grumbled Chet. “I don't know you, pal, but I'm gonna hightail it to the nearest ranger station and call the cops.” He froze when a second figure appeared in front of him. “I wouldn't do that if I was you, buster,” it said.
The Irishman's hair stood on end and he shrieked in mortal terror. He fled down the trail in a blind panic, yelling at the top of his lungs. He tripped over a root and tumbled to the ground, the wind knocked out of him.
Back in camp, the coffee-drinking miner cackled evilly. “Sounds like he ran into one of my friends,” he said, his eyes glowing with a hellish, red light. Hank, Roy , and Johnny shouted with fear and scrambled to their feet. Mike launched a clumsy punch at the laughing figure, sprawling face-down when his fist passed right through the man's body. Louisa gasped when the miner grabbed her forearm with an icy hand. His fingers tightened roughly, snapping the fragile bones with a sickening crack. The young woman let out an agonized howl and wrenched away, cold sweat beading on her forehead. “Go back to Hell where you belong,” she panted, close to losing consciousness. She tore the cross from the chain she was wearing around her neck and threw it at the figure. “In the name of God, I command you to be gone!”
The man unleashed an unearthly bellow when the holy object sailed through him. A blinding flash lit up the clearing and he vanished into a puff of smoke. The tin cup he had been holding landed in the fire, partly extinguishing the flames as the liquid spilled out. Louisa curled into a tight ball, cradling her injured arm and trembling.
Roy and Johnny rushed to her side, their faces blanched white. “Mike, find me something to use as a splint!” barked Gage, his voice raw. “Lou, hold still so I can check you out.”
“I already know it's broken, so don't bother,” she growled between gritted teeth. “Don't worry about me; find Chet and Marco. Geez, nobody is going to believe this one. The doctor will ask me how I broke my arm and when I tell him a ghost did it, he'll toss me into a padded room and throw away the key.”
“Better reserve one for me, too,” said Johnny with a shaky grin. He took the magazine Mike handed to him and folded it around Louisa's arm. “I wish I could give you something for the pain. The nearest hospital is almost an hour away.”
“It's not that bad, honest,” groaned Louisa. She looked up when Chet and her brother returned, their eyes huge. “You guys all right?”
“I'll be a lot better when we get out of here,” answered Marco. He started shoving anything he could get his hands on into their backpacks as fast as he could while Hank and Chet took down the tent and rolled it up. Mike switched on his flashlight and poured a bucket of water over the campfire, scattering the ashes with his boot. The paramedics helped Louisa to her feet and supported her with their arms. “Can you walk or should we carry you?” asked Roy .
“I think so,” replied the young woman. “Just be ready to catch me if I pass out. One broken bone a day is more than enough!”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“Now let me get this straight,” said the clinic doctor. “You and your companions were playing touch football, you tripped over a root and hit your arm on a rock embedded in the ground? You must have landed pretty hard, Mrs. Stanley. Both bones are almost shattered at mid-shaft. I won't know the full extent of the damage until I operate. If we're lucky, none of the fragments penetrated the underlying nerves and blood vessels.” He turned to look at the x-rays again, muttering under his breath. “Michelle, call Don and see if he's available. If he's not, page Ralph Walker. While you're at it, get Bob Franklin down here. No one knows their way around the circulatory system like he does. Tell them to meet me in OR Five. I'm going up to scrub.”
“Is he always that sweet-tempered?” Louisa asked the nurse with a grin. She chuckled, nudged Johnny with her elbow. “Even Mike Morton isn't that brusque. I hope his surgical skills are better than his bedside manner.”
The paramedic laughed. “Just think how he'd react if you told him how you really broke your arm. He might send you to the basket factory.”
“As long as I don't have to share a room with Chet,” snickered the young woman. “I'd probably get the urge to strangle him with the tubing from my IV.”
“With only one good hand?” retorted the Irishman. “I don't think so, sweetheart.”
“Where there's a will, there's a way,” shot back Louisa, making the men laugh. She looked up when the door opened and two orderlies came in, pushing a gurney between them. A quick glance at the first man's name badge sent her into a fit of hysterical laughter. “Calgon, take me away,” she snorted, tears running down her face.
“What's so funny?” questioned Marco, a deep frown puckering his forehead. “It can't be the drugs, because they haven't given her any yet.”
The orderly blushed and smiled sheepishly. “Uh, my last name is Calgon,” he replied with a long-suffering sigh.
Hank bit his lip and stared down at the floor, his facial muscles twitching madly. Stoker covered his mouth and ran into the hallway, giggling helplessly. “Love your bath beads,” quipped Chet, his eyes sparkling gleefully. “They leave my skin so soft, it's almost criminal.”
“So is that joke, Kelly,” giggled Louisa, wiping her eyes. “Ignore him, honey,” she said to the orderly. “We're still trying to find a way to cure his psychosis. He has this delusion that he's funny.”
“His mental state or his face?” grinned the man. “Come on; Dr. Klein hates to be kept waiting.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Four Hours Later
Dr. Klein entered the lounge, his scrubs stained with blood and sweat. Hank bolted out of his chair and opened his mouth to speak. The doctor smiled and lifted a hand. “Your wife is going to be fine, Mr. Stanley,” he said. “She'll need some physical therapy once the bones heal, but she will have full use of the arm.”
The Captain breathed a sigh of relief and pumped Klein's hand. “How soon before I can see her?” he asked anxiously.
“A couple hours or so.” He shook his head, chuckling softly. “Just before we put her under, she gave me a few tips on how to repair a comminuted fracture. Then she told Bob Franklin to double-check the radial and brachial blood vessels before we closed the incision. She said that if a hematoma developed, she was going to ‘give him a sound thrashing' after she drained it all over his shoes. I'm guessing that you wife works in the medical field in some capacity?”
“What gave you that idea?” laughed Hank. “She has degrees in nursing and lab technology and is currently part of a cancer research team back home in Los Angeles .”
“That explains a lot,” grinned Dr. Klein. “I wish all my patients were as knowledgeable as she is. I've never seen Bob so dumbfounded in my life. The look on his face was absolutely priceless ! My gas passer was laughing so hard, he almost tipped over his chair!”
“Lou has that effect on a lot of people,” snickered Johnny. “She's the only woman I know that can render Brackett completely speechless, except for his wife, of course.”
The doctor's eyes widened. “ Kel Brackett?” he questioned. “I'll be damned. We went to med school together. I haven't seen him in ages. Wait a minute; did you say he has a wife? I can't believe it!”
The Captain nodded. “Yeah, he's married. It kind of surprised all of us when he finally settled down.”
“When you get back to L.A. , tell him Henry Klein still owes him for the eyeball he planted in my locker during residency. Where does he practice? Maybe I'll pay him a little visit and get even in person.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Three Days Later
“ Mami , will you stop fussing? I'm perfectly fine,” Louisa muttered crossly. “It's not like I never broken my arm before.”
Maria laughed softly and stepped back. “I know that, querida ,” she smiled. “As a mother, I have a right to be concerned. All right, I'll go away and leave you be for now. I have to run to the grocery store. Would you like anything special for supper?”
The young woman grinned. “Do you have time to make your special chili-lime chicken? I haven't had it in ages.”
Mrs. Lopez nodded briskly and scooped up her purse. “I'll even make cornbread if you promise to behave yourself until I get back. That means stay in the house, young lady,” she teased. “If I catch you cleaning stalls or riding one of the horses, I'll send you to bed without dinner.”
“There goes that idea,” giggled Louisa. “I'll just sit right here and watch television. The Dodgers are playing today.”
The second her mother was gone, Louisa picked up the phone and called Johnny. “Wanna come over and watch the game with me?” she asked. “The warden says I'm not allowed to leave the house. Great, pick up some beer and chips. Sure, invite Chet, too. Okay, see you in a while.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Paul Roland, one of Louisa's former band mates, stood on the Stanley 's front porch and lifted his hand to knock, pausing to bite his lip thoughtfully. He looked down when something brushed his leg and saw Buddy, Louisa's dog, standing there watching him. “Hey, fella. How's it going?” The canine barked, wagging his tail in greeting. “Here goes nothing,” muttered the guitarist, banging on the door with his knuckles.
“Who could that be?” questioned the young woman. She went to answer, a smile lighting up her face when she saw her friend. “About time you dropped by, buster,” she teased, giving him a one-armed hug. “I was beginning to think you were avoiding me.” She raised an eyebrow and frowned. “I know that look. Something's up and you've come to me for advice.”
Paul laughed, shaking his head in amusement. “I never could fool you, kid,” he joked. “Can we go somewhere and talk? It's kind of personal.”
“Sure, let's sit on the porch. All right, Roland. Spill your guts.”
The guitarist ran a nervous hand through his curly hair and sighed. “Uh, before you ask, I'm not in any trouble, but I need a huge favor. If you want to say no, it's okay; I'll understand.”
“If it involves anything illegal, we can put Toby on retainer,” she teased, her eyes twinkling. “What do you want me to do?”
“About a week ago, I got a call from our old promoter,” said Paul. “He's putting together a fundraiser and wants us to play. I talked to the rest of the guys and they said they'll do it, but only if you're part of the line-up. I know you're busy, but it's for a good cause. The money we collect will be used to build a recreation center for inner-city children. There's gonna be a Halloween carnival and a petting zoo for the kids, but the main attraction will be a battle of the bands. Pete's lined up five other groups, but he wants us to headline the event.”
“I guess I could make time,” answered Louisa with a smile. “You know, I bet the Fire Department would help us out if we asked. They could set up a booth promoting fire safety or something. The Ladies' Auxiliary might even hold one of their famous bake sales and donate the money. I can bring it up at the meeting tonight.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The Benefit, Two Weeks Later
Pete stood next to the make-shift stage and surveyed the crowd. Children were everywhere, laughing with delight as they ran from booth to booth. He turned when his assistant tapped him on the shoulder and handed him a folded sheet of paper. “”Marcy asked me to give this to you, Mr. Riley,” he said.
“Thanks, Charlie,” he answered. His eyes flew over the document and he grinned triumphantly. “This is great !” he exclaimed. “We've taken in almost $75,000 and that doesn't even count the money from the games and bake sale! They should bring in at least another $10,000 after expenses! We're a success, buddy!”
Charlie laughed, his eyes shining. “Don't forget the tickets we sold for the concert and the donations from the local merchants,” he beamed.
Riley nodded happily. “Add to that our profits from the pony rides Louisa Stanley set up. Have you seen how many people are waiting for their turn? It's incredible! Let's go over and watch for a while.”
“Are you sure it's not dangerous? My son has never been on a horse before.” The woman bit her lip, staring at Louisa with nervous eyes.
The young woman chuckled. “He'll be just fine, ma'am,” she answered. “All the horses here are used to children. I'll be sitting right behind him, so I can promise you he won't fall off.” She extended her hand to the little boy, smiling brightly. “Don't be scared, sweetie. Saffy doesn't bite.”
“Can I pat her?” asked the child, reaching out eagerly. He giggled when the mare nuzzled his arm, nickering softly. “She likes me, Mama!” he squealed. “Can I ride her, please?!?” His mother nodded, watching closely as Louisa lifted her son into the saddle. “Hold on tight, Joy,” she cautioned.
“Okay, little buddy,” said the young woman. She climbed onto the horse and slid an arm around the little boy's waist. She clucked to the animal and trotted her across the corral. Joey giggled joyfully, his face glowing. Louisa guided the mare along the fence, waving to Marco as he snapped a picture. He handed the photograph to the nervous mother with a flourish. “Here's your souvenir,” he announced.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
By the time her booth closed at five o'clock, Louisa had raised over $1,000. After caring for her horses, she loaded them into the trailer and went home to shower and change. She returned to the fair grounds and found Pete ironing out a few late minute details. “All right, people,” he was saying. “We've got two hours until show time. Does everyone have the set list I printed up?”
“Set list?!?” echoed Rick Dunkirk with a snort. “You may be in charge of this shindig, Petey, but that doesn't give you the right to dictate the songs we're gonna do. This ain't a request show, man.”
“Don't get your knickers in a twist, Dunkirk ,” sneered Leo Crane, lead singer of The Passions, a rockabilly group from Orange County . “We're gonna blow you off the stage, so it don't matter what you play.”
“Don't bet the farm on it, pal,” retorted Louisa. “Last time you guys did a club date, half the audience walked out before you got through your first number.”
“We had an off night,” argued Crane belligerently. “It happens to everybody, honey. Our fans stick by us ‘cause we got talent, unlike some people I could mention. All you do is scream, Louisa. You can't carry a tune in a bucket.”
“Will you two stop bickering already?” snapped Riley. “This is how it's going down. Yacht Club will play first, followed by The Passions, Phipps's Law, and Black Dove. There will be a half hour intermission, then Mute Nostril Agony will wrap it up. If the crowd wants more, you can all get together and jam. Any questions? Okay, the roadies I hired should have the gear set up for sound check. Get moving and try not to kill each other while I'm gone.” He walked away, muttering under his breath.
Rick bent to whisper in Louisa's ear, making her laugh. “I couldn't do that, Ricky,” she giggled. “I promised Pete I would play nice with those bozos. You wouldn't want me to break my word, would you?”
Dunkirk snickered and threw an arm around her shoulders. “Of course not, darling,” he grinned. Come on, babe. I'll help you slither into your leathers.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Two Hours Later
Hank and his crew strolled through the fairgrounds, heading for the rows of folding chairs that had been set up for the concert. “Man, there must be at least a couple thousand people here!” observed Chet. “How are we gonna find Pete in this crowd?”
“We ask, you twit,” grumbled the Captain. He approached a security guard and tapped his shoulder. “Pardon me, sir, could you tell me where I can find Mr. Riley?”
The burly man turned, a deep scowl on his face. “Why do you want him?!?” he barked. “What's your name, buster?”
“Captain Hank Stanley,” answered Hank. “My wife is the singer for Mute Nostril Agony.”
The guard smiled, his eyes lighting up. “You're Lou's husband?” he questioned with a friendly grin. “Pleasure to meet you, sir. I'm Smokey Johnson. I was a roadie for her band back in the day. Follow me, sir; Mr. Riley left orders to take you backstage.”
Paul Roland stood outside the dressing rooms, surrounding by admiring women. “Sure, honey,” he was saying, “I'd love to see you after the show. Meet me back here and we'll go for a drink after I change.” He looked up when Toby grabbed his arm, dragging him away from his fans. “Excuse me, ladies. I'm needed elsewhere. Damn, Wilder, ease up before you dislocate my shoulder.”
“You can flirt later, Romeo,” laughed Toby. “Save your energy for the gig.”
“Right, man. Gotta stay focused and put Leo and the grease balls in their place.” He shivered when a sudden chill swept through the room. “Who turned the air conditioner on?”
Louisa rose from her seat in front of the mirror and rested a hand on the appliance, frowning thoughtfully. “Nobody did,” she said. “It's not even plugged in.” She gasped when a quartet of misty shapes materialized in the far corner. The figures solidified, taking the form of the dead rocks stars she had seen while in her coma. “My God,” she whispered.
Rick followed her gaze, but saw nothing by a crumbling cinder-block wall covered in flaking white paint. “Lou, are you okay? What are you staring at?”
The young woman didn't respond, shuddering violently as the spirit of Janis Joplin entered her body. “I'm just fine, sugar,” she rasped, speaking with the dead woman's thick Texas drawl. “Y'all ready to lay down some full tilt boogie?”
Paul gaped at her, confused by her odd behavior. “Why are you talking like that?” he questioned. “What's with the accent?” He jumped when a tingling sensation filled him, making him stagger drunkenly. “Yeah, baby,” he chuckled. “It's voodoo time!” He picked up his guitar and slung it over his shoulder, the neck to the right, as if for a left-hander. He played a few notes, his fingers sliding over the strings gracefully.
“Voodoo time?!?” echoed Gene. “What the heck is going on? Since when do you play left handed, Paul?”
“Just trying something different, man,” smirked the guitarist. “Ain't that right, darling?” he said to Louisa. She cackled hoarsely and reached for a bottle of Southern Comfort from the mini bar. She twisted off the cap and took a hearty swig, passing to Rick with a grin. “Good for what ails ya, good buddy.”
Hank stood frozen in the doorway, struck dumb by his wife's abrupt change in personality. “Honey, when did you start drinking bourbon whiskey? I thought you didn't like hard liquor.”
“It's a woman's right to change her mind,” she answered. “Besides, I wanted a little pick-me-up before we take the stage. Got a problem with that?”
The Captain shook his head. “No, I guess not,” he replied. “As long as you don't get drunk, it's okay.”
“No worries, baby,” the young woman husked. “A little nip before a gig improves my voice.” She cocked her head, listening intently to the doo-wop tune The Passions were playing. “Gawd, what a racket! That cat sounds like Elvis with bronchitis. Lordy, who told him he could sing?”
Pete stuck his head in the door, his jaw hanging open. “If you're trying to be funny, missy, you're not, so knock it off and get ready. Black Dove had to drop out, so you guys are on next.” He backed out of the room, shaking his head in bewilderment. “What stunt are you pulling now, Louisa? The Joplin impression is a new one for you, kid.”