Sprayed Stiff (24 page)

“Where are you going?” Mitzi dismissed the gopher by showing the bucktoothed critter her back. Nice. She had to be really stressed.

“You’re busy. We hate to keep you.”

“You’re not keeping me at all.”

“What’s with all the animal costumes?” Trudy asked.

“We allowed the girls in the program to choose the theme of the party, ‘Beasts for Teens.’ ” Mitzi narrowed her eyes at Trudy. “What are you doing here?” I wrote off her unfriendliness as nerves from her party.

Trudy smiled expansively. “I’m here to support your wonderful charity.”

Discomfited but unable to argue that point, Mitzi turned back to me, dismissing Trudy entirely. I wondered why she seemed to not like Trudy. Everybody liked Trudy. Perhaps her low self-esteem made her uncomfortable in the presence of beauties, which was why she felt completely comfortable with me.

“How are things with the investigation?” Mitzi asked me, half an eye on a waitress balancing perhaps one too many glasses of champagne on her tilting tray. “Are the police and the media leaving you alone?”

“I haven’t seen a cop or reporter in a while,” I assured her. She nodded, satisfied either with me or with the waitress’s safe arrival at a table haven for her tray. I continued, “But I did just discover something interesting perhaps you could help me with.”

“Yes?”

“Shauna, the makeup artist who was killed in Alamo Heights, was a member of the Junior League, too. Did you know her?”

Mitzi went stiff. A guest was ranting loudly just south of us. Mitzi made a hand signal to a park attendant to tone him down. She spared me a glance. “Know her? I don’t think so. Or maybe. I can’t be sure.”

Something envious in Mitzi’s face made me think she did remember her. Shauna was another beauty making her uncomfortable.

“I just wondered if she and Wilma had any dealings you knew of.”

She relaxed a little. The man to the south had been reined in. “This girl, she might have worked on one of Wilma’s projects at one time. That’s why her name would sound familiar to me. I’d have to check the records for you. Perhaps tomorrow?”

“That would be great, Mitzi. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem. Now, Reyn, if you don’t mind, I need a little help myself.” She pointed to the roller coaster against the back wall of the man-made canyon. It glittered with a kaleidoscope of pulsing lights. “That’s the WonderWoman coaster. The wonderful management agreed to debut it tonight for my fund-raiser, which is why we have such a great crowd. I want to make sure all the decorations are in place before the end of the evening, when folks are going to get the chance to ride it. Can you do a quick check for me?”

“Uh, sure.” I couldn’t say no, even though I wanted to work the crowd to find out more about Shauna, especially having realized that the caramel flip I’d seen earlier belonged to Charis. I scanned the crowd and found her again, in the middle of her circle of like-do friends.

“It won’t take a minute,” Mitzi promised, gripping my forearm with one hoof-covered hand. “I have to find the park director for a quick question, then I’ll meet you over there.”

I nodded.

“Maybe we’ll even get a chance to try the ride before everyone else!” Mitzi whispered excitedly.

I nodded again, trying not to look nauseated. I hated roller coasters more than I hated plucking my eyebrows.

“T
HAT WOMAN IS WEIRD,”
Trudy said.

“It’s not her fault she has to dress like a donkey,” I threw back.

Trudy raised her eyebrows. “You don’t think as head of this shindig, she got to pick her costume first? Would you have chosen a pack animal commonly referred to as an ass?”

“Maybe it is synonymous with her life—she feels like she carries a load for others.”

I got the Trudy eye roll. “You know, Reyn, you need to give up hairstyling and go back to school to be a psychologist. You do enough pop psych in daily life to make a living at it.”

“Come on, Trude, I feel sorry for Mitzi. You just don’t like her because she doesn’t like you, and you aren’t used to that.”

Trudy didn’t comment beyond an additional eye roll. We rounded the corner into the part of the park set up like a little German town and nearly ran into a swarthy man in a suit. I jumped and squealed. Was this one of the Mexican henchman? He reached to his back pocket and unsheathed a…walkie-talkie. “I’m sorry I frightened you,” he said without a trace of an accent. “Are you ladies lost?”

What I’d lost was the use of my voice, since I’d thought we were going to be filleted by a drug dealer on a mission. Trudy spoke for us. “Mitzi Spagnetti sent us to check the decorations on the new roller coaster.”

He nodded. His walkie-talkie squawked, calling all officials to the front for a problem. He talked into it and excused himself, giving us directions to the coaster before he left.

The WonderWoman coaster rose up around the next bend like an electrified monolith, a neon-charged snake, an oversize labyrinth of disaster. I knew other people thought of these sources of amusement with a charge of excitement. I preferred to get my charges from a caffeine buzz or a chocolate high. I’d much rather leave my fate in the hands of Mother Nature. Maybe I didn’t trust man to make something unflawed. Maybe I knew that, with my sorry luck, I’d be the one person stuck in the loose car. Maybe I had a genetic fear of heights.

Maybe I was just a wuss.

Trudy smiled. “This looks like a blast.”

The cars were floorless; riders were strapped into seats that left their feet dangling. The coaster’s signs advertised loop-the-loops three hundred feet in the air and speeds up to eighty miles an hour. Shouldn’t one have a windshield at that speed? I’d worry about catching flies, bees, and stray birds in my teeth.

“Let’s check the decorations and get out of here before Mitzi comes and wants to ride this damn thing.”

“Spoilsport,” Trudy groused.

The metallic streamers blew in the gentle breeze. One of the poles guiding people to the coaster had fallen down, and I righted it. Signs thanking people for supporting the Teen Advantage program and information about teen pregnancy and Bexar County’s record for having one of the highest teen pregnancy rates in the country lined the walk leading to the ride. I paused to read some of the facts, which were news to me. I saw the need for such a program, and wondered why Wilma had been so dead set against it.

I thought I heard something behind the control room. “Mitzi?”

No answer.

“It was probably the wind.” Trudy waved it off as she stared, transfixed, at the highest loop.

The errant pole went down again, and I left Trudy by the coaster as I returned to right it. Mitzi walked up the way we’d come, smiling with pleasure at the decorations.

“Did Trudy decide to stay where all the fun was?”

“No, she’s here.” I nodded back. “Gaga over the coaster.”

Mitzi’s face clouded for a moment. She checked her watch in that disconcerting, jerky way she sometimes moved. “Oh. Okay. Well, everything looks in order. Since Trudy’s so eager, why don’t you two take a twirl? You can be the first two in San Antonio to debut the WonderWoman.”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t ask you to do that. You are way too busy—”

“We’d love to!” Trudy effused as she walked up behind me. Dirty dog.

Mitzi’s face spread in a long, slow smile. “Wonderful.”

The canned music that had been playing softly over the loudspeakers paused, and a voice came on to ask everyone to enter the theater for the flamenco show. I’d noticed the theater just to the left as we’d walked into the park. Saved by the bell.

“Oh, too bad. We have to go watch the show. No time for the coaster.”

“Nonsense,” Mitzi said. “This is San Antonio, you can see a flamenco show anytime. This is probably the only time in your life you’ll ever be the first to debut a roller coaster.”

I could live a long life never having done that and never regret it. She was so eager, though, so insistent, that I felt like I had to capitulate. Here we went again with that politeness brainwashing. I didn’t want to do something, yet didn’t want to be rude.

Besides, I was afraid Trudy was going to hurt me if I said no. Her nails were long enough to scare me.

I made one last-ditch effort. “Why don’t I watch while you two ride it? I can report how it looks from the ground.”

Mitzi shook her head, holding up a walkie-talkie. “I wish I could, but I have to keep in constant contact with the crew, in case we have a problem with the event.”

That settled that. Trudy nudged me, and I walked the plank to the first car in the coaster. We passed a sign that promised to take us upside down sixteen stories in the air. My dream come true. I tried to turn around, but Trudy put her hands on my shoulders and pushed. A stuffed armadillo was standing at the controls. Great. I had such confidence in roller coasters already, now I had to be a guinea pig in one run by an armadillo.

“You have to take off your shoes, or you’ll never see them again,” Mitzi said with a giggle.

I looked down at my patent pointy-toes. Sounded good to me. Maybe one would fly up and bean Trudy in the head for making me do this. I kept them on, but the stuffed critter snatched them off before he put our seat bars down on our laps.

It sounded to me like the barred doors shutting in prison.

He returned to the controls and glanced at us. His eyes looked familiar to me somehow. The motor powered up with an ominous hum.

“Hang on,” Mitzi warned. “Zero to eighty in two-point-two seconds.” Another giggle. I didn’t feel as sorry for her anymore.

Trudy was breathing so fast in excitement it sounded like she was having an orgasm. Could this get any worse?

I shouldn’t have asked.

With a jerk sure to leave us with whiplash, we were off. My legs felt like they were being stretched an extra foot by the g-force. Maybe I would end up with legs like Trudy’s before it was all over. The skin was pulling back from my face. Maybe this would wipe out my laugh lines. Of course, as we did the first loop-the-loop I realized my intestines were also undergoing a renovation, probably not a positive one. And my hair, well, it was sure to look like Wilma’s.

Flipping over the highest loop took us higher than the canyon wall. I could see for miles at eighty miles an hour. It wasn’t that good for me.

Finally, we were approaching the end. I had survived with only lengthened legs, a lineless face, reorganized insides, and bad hair. I began to relax as the car slowed as it entered the departure area. But for some reason, we kept going. Past the armadillo at the controls. Ahead to the track once more. Zero to eighty in two-point-two seconds. It had happened so quickly that I hadn’t even called out.

I looked at Trudy. Grinning ear to ear, she looked like my dogs do when they have their heads stuck out the window of my truck. “Did you see Mitzi back there?”

She shook her head. “No. Isn’t this just awesome?”

“It’s something all right,” I hollered back.

The second time around, my terror morphed into irritation. I looked down at the park and saw hundreds of people filing into the theater for the flamenco show. That could’ve been me, I thought. Had I not been so polite.

As we approached the end of the line again, I was braced to call out and protest. No Mitzi. No armadillo at the controls. Uh-oh. We were off.

Trudy’s eyes were looking a little glazed, like the dogs stoned on too much fresh air. My irritation had turned now to resignation. I wondered if victims of torture experienced these phases. If so, it defeated the purpose to drag it on too long, because we were begging to be put out of our misery by the end of it.

Be careful what you wish for.

We reached the sixteen-story point on the highest loop-the-loop, and stopped. Dead in our tracks. Upside down. Trudy and I looked at each other. This moment was too much for words. We screamed.

That didn’t do any good, but it made us feel better.

“Frogs’ fannies and birds’ bustiers, what are we going to do?” Trudy asked.

“Why don’t you think of something, smarty-pants, since you’re the reason we’re on this damn ride to begin with.”

“It wasn’t my idea to come to the theme park, so it’s your fault we’re stuck up here.”

“No, it’s the dumb operator’s fault for sending us around so many turns that he burned out the contols.”

“You think it’s going to burn? I don’t want to die like some oversize shish kebab.”

I smiled. She gulped nervously. Being the sicko that I am, I waited for a few seconds before I answered, “Don’t worry. I don’t think metal burns real well, Trude.”

I started yelling Mitzi’s name. Trudy joined me for a minute or so. We listened. Nothing but a few high-altitude crickets on the canyon rim below us. I finally got the nerve to crane my neck to look down. The angle left me with not much of a view, but I could see that the skinny maintenance stairway reached the bottom of our loop.

“Look, if we get our car to the bottom of the loop, and we can figure out how to shimmy out of our bindings, we might be able to crawl down the stairway.”

“How do we do that?”

“We have to shift our weight to set it moving. It shouldn’t take much.” I began rocking back and forth, wiggling to and fro. Trudy had closed her eyes and wasn’t doing much backing and forthing or toing and froing. Go figure. The g-force ride was a thrill, but stopping scared her into paralysis.

Our seats began to drift forward, building momentum quickly as we slid down the backside of the loop. Trudy screamed again. We were going so fast I was worried we’d end up at the top of the next damned loop, but instead we just slid up, paused, then slid back, and up and back, for long enough to make me nauseated. Finally, we were still. I looked over at the stairway and there stood Mitzi.

“You heard us!” Trudy exclaimed. “You’re a dear for climbing up here to save us.”

Mitzi’s lips stretched in what might be described as a smile only by the criminally insane.

That’s when I noticed the gun in her hand. Pointed at me.

My hair wasn’t the only thing about to look like Wilma’s.