The Stuffing of Nightmares (The Mysteries of Bell & Whitehouse Book 7) (5 page)

A
lice stared at the pony
. She’d been on her way out with Fee and Rick when her friends spotted the peculiar package Reece had received.

“It’s just a gift from a friend,” she said when Fee asked her what in heaven’s name that
thing
was doing in their hallway.

She didn’t mention her suspicions that this old friend was actually an old girlfriend, and had shipped Reece this pony as a way to remind him of her.

“What’s his name?” Fee asked.

“Tony. He was the pony Reece trained on for his first starring role.”

“Hunk,” Rick muttered.

Even though Rick had never been a great fan of the actor, he and Reece had bonded over the course of their most recent adventure, and Rick had recently binge-watched all of his movies on Netflix.

“So what are we going to do with it?” Fee asked.

Alice shrugged. For all she cared they would ship it right back to where it came from. But that was not her call, of course. It wasn’t her pony to return.

“I think he looks pretty creepy,” Fee said, rubbing her arms.

Alice agreed. It was bad enough for some people to post the stuffed head of some poor animal on their wall as a trophy, but to stuff an entire pony? Who did that? And it wasn’t as if he looked very nice, either. Whoever had stuffed him had botched the job. There was a hump on his back where no hump should have been, and his snout was crooked as if he’d taken a hit on the nose. And then there were his eyes, which were almost lifelike. As if he wasn’t quite dead. Glass, probably.

She stepped in for a closer look and tapped the pony’s nose. She jerked back her hand when the animal suddenly came to life!

“Hey, what’s the big idea?” the pony asked, his lips moving.

“Yikes!” Alice cried, jumping back.

“What the heck?” Fee chimed in, and even Rick seemed startled, even though he was the resident Dr. Dolittle of their small band of four.

From the confines of the dead pony a ghost pony now stepped, tearing itself loose from his formally fleshy form and hovering in the hallway like an ectoplasmic emanation. He shook himself, as if surprised to find himself in this position, then looked back at his stuffed self, going face to face, and staring dumbly into his own eyes.

“What’s going on?” he cried. “Why is there two of me all of a sudden?”

“Well, you died,” Alice replied, quite insensitively.

“I did what?!” the pony exclaimed.

“It happens,” she pointed out.

“But then why am I still standing?” he asked. “And why am I so... stiff?”

He nudged his stuffed self, which didn’t budge, of course.

“Because they had you stuffed,” Alice pointed out.

“Stuffed? They had me stuffed?”

“That’s right.”

“Christ! This is a nightmare!”

“Yeah, it’s no picnic,” Rick commented. He’d approached the pony and was studying him more closely. “Hey, you’ve got a hole in your head,” he said, pointing to a bald spot on Tony’s head.

The pony’s eyes rolled up to see the alleged hole. Then he got the bright idea to look at his stuffed self and found the hole. He started violently. “You’re right. There
is
a hole in my head. But that means—”

“It means you were put down,” said Alice, once more striking the insensitive note.

Tony looked dismayed. “Oh, man. Put down? But why? Why would Ines do that to me? I was her favorite pony! Been with her for years!”

“You were probably sick,” Rick pointed out.

“Yeah, you were probably in so much pain Ines wanted to end your suffering,” Fee suggested.

“Or maybe she simply got tired of you,” Alice said.

“Alice!” Fee hissed.

Tony frowned, or at least Alice thought he did. It was hard to be sure with all his fur. “I don’t remember being sick,” he said. “And I sure as heck don’t remember being shot.”

“Yeah, it’s a big mystery,” said Alice.

The pony stared at them for a moment; then he bared his teeth in a smile. “You know what I’ll do? I’ll just go home. And ask Ines what happened.”

Alice and Fee shared a look of concern. “You can’t go home, Tony,” Rick said. “You’re dead now, you see. You don’t have a home to go to anymore.”

The pony whinnied. “What do you mean I can’t go home?”

Rick sighed. “Tony, you’re dead.”

“Dead? That’s a good one. You almost fooled me, funny guy. If I’m dead, why am I talking to you guys? Huh? Can you tell me that?”

“Like I said, you’re a ghost now, Tony. You’re dead, and you’re a ghost.”

“What?! But ghosts don’t even exist!”

Alice, tiring of the circular nature of this conversation, abruptly held out her arm, and stuck a hand right through the pony’s skull, demonstrating once and for all that he was a ghost now, and not a live pony. And as her fingers came out the other end of his head, and she wriggled them, Tony stared cross-eyed at her Hello Kitty wristwatch, and said, “Golly me. I
am
a ghost.”

At which point he promptly fainted and dropped to the hallway floor.

R
eece awoke
with a start and jerked up. He regretted this instantly, as his blood pressure dropped precipitously, and he felt dizzy. And then there was that startlingly pungent odor that assaulted his nostrils. He coughed and retched. Some horrible taste in his mouth as well. Then it hit him. He’d been shot! He quickly checked his abdomen for signs of the bullet wound, but only found a faint bruise. No hole in his perfectly sculpted six-pack, and no blood soaking his shirt. Startled, he searched around for a clue to what had happened to him. He was in a small prison cell, with a stone floor, stone walls and a small barred window high up where he couldn’t reach it. It looked like an old cellar, a couple of carton boxes full of old newspapers and bottles in a corner. A wooden door that had seen better days was meant to keep him in. He gingerly rose to his feet, and walked up to the door, then rattled it.

Locked, of course. He put his shoulder against it and gave it a shove.

Nope. Didn’t budge.

Someone had knocked him out and locked him up. But who? And why?

All he could remember was the knock-out blonde on the beach. The one who’d done an Ursula Andress on him, emerging from the surf as if she was in some James Bond movie. Only this woman hadn’t been carrying a knife but a gun and had shot him. He distinctly remembered that. He realized she must have used a tranquilizer dart. But how had they managed to haul him back here to this cave? She couldn’t have done it by herself. He was a good six feet tall and weighed in at two hundred pounds of pure hard muscle.

He hollered, “Hey! Let me out of here!”

No response, of course.

He sank back onto the cot. So he’d been kidnapped. He should have seen it coming. He was a huge and bankable star, after all. They could probably fetch millions for him. He just hoped they’d be quick about negotiating his release. He didn’t enjoy being cooped up, creature of comfort that he was.

And then there was Alice to think of. She was probably worried sick. Perhaps for her sake he should have hired a bodyguard, like his agent had told him. If something ever happened to her, he’d never forgive himself.

And he was staring out in front of him with unseeing eyes when there was a rattle at the door, and it swung open, hitting the wall hard. The same blond woman who’d captured him stood framed in the doorway.

She’d changed her outfit and was now dressed in jeans shorts and a sexy top, looking like a million bucks. Instead of admiring her form, however, he glowered at her. “What do you want?” he asked in a grating voice.

She looked like a fresh-faced teenager, not a vicious kidnapper.

“Isn’t it obvious what I want?” she asked, entering the room. “I want you, Chuck MacLachlan.” She was holding that small peashooter out in front of her, and he eyed it narrowly. It looked like an ordinary gun, but he knew better. It either spewed gas bullets or darts, designed to knock him out in seconds flat.

“Just get in touch with my agent, will you? He’ll wire you the money.”

She laughed at this, throwing her head on her neck like a crazy person.

“What’s so funny?” he growled.

“You’re funny, Chuck,” she said, leaning against the wall. “For thinking that you could simply buy your way out of here.”

“If it’s not money you want, what is it?” he asked. Most kidnappers were happy to talk turkey, but this one seemed different. There was something not quite right about her. As if she was a few cards short of a full deck.

“Like I said, I want you. And now I’ve got you.”

He frowned. “I don’t get it.”

She grinned. “That’s pretty obvious. I’m a collector, Chuck. Only I collect people. Professionals like you.” She ticked off on her fingers. “I’ve got a mailman, a carpenter, a plumber, a gardener…” She gave him a beaming smile. “And now I’ve got myself a bona fide movie star, haven’t I?”

He shook his head, not comprehending. “You collect professionals?”

“That’s right. You could say it’s a hobby of mine to own every profession out there, which is quite an ambitious project if you think about it.”

“You’re crazy,” he said. “Stark raving mad.”

She laughed again, that same maniacal laugh she’d emitted before, and it was obvious that his words weren’t wide of the mark. She was nuts.

“Words like ‘crazy’ are so easy to hurl at a person,” she said, drawing daisies on the cement floor with the tip of her espadrille. “But how can you know for sure? Are you a mental health professional? A psychiatrist?”

He wasn’t, of course, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t make a sound judgment call. This woman was nuts, and if he knew anything about nutters it was that they were easily swayed. So he tried another tack. He produced his most winning smile. “You don’t want to do this, honey. Collecting people is a crime, didn’t they teach you that in high school?”

“Of course I know that,” she snapped, her mood abruptly taking a turn for the worse. “Which is why I’m going to collect a lawyer, a policeman and a judge as well. Then if there’s trouble ahead, they can tell me what to do.”

“What does your father think about this, huh? Or your mother? Do they even know about this hobby of yours?”

She produced a pout. “Daddy knows. And Grandpa, of course. He’s the one that started all this. Mommy doesn’t, but then she’s not around much. She left me and my daddy years ago, and I’ve hardly ever seen her since.”

Classic, Reece thought. Little girl spoiled rotten after mommy left, and now daddy doesn’t know what to do with her. He probably thought she was collecting dolls, not human beings. “And where do you put all these people?”

She smiled again. “Here at the Manor. We’ve got plenty of space.”

“Manor? What manor?” Where had she taken him?

She smiled mischievously. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” She pushed herself off the wall. “Get some rest, Chuck MacLachlan. Soon you’re going to meet the other professionals, and I need you fit and rested for that occasion.”

“You’re going to introduce me to the others, huh?”

She grinned. “Oh, yes. It’s going to be great fun, you’ll see.” And with these words, she tripped out the door and slammed it shut behind her.

He sighed and shook his head. What had he done to deserve this? Then he thought of something. The girl said they were in a manor. And judging from this old cellar, it was probably some ancient place. And if there was one thing he knew about old places like this, it was that they were full of ghosts.

So he called out, “Hello? Um, ghost people? Can anybody hear me?”

There was a soft rattle coming from beneath his feet, and he stared down. Then, before his surprised gaze, green smoke started rising between the cracks in the floor. Its green tendrils swirled around him and rose ever more until they enveloped him like an acrid fog. He coughed as the fumes penetrated his lungs. Then he fell onto the cot, collapsing into a heap.

W
hile Reece enjoyed his captivity
, his friends were oblivious to the fate that had befallen him. Reece had a habit of spending a big chunk of his day either at the gym or doing his daily laps at the beach. Since his body was his instrument, he needed to keep it perfectly honed and in tip-top shape at all times. So unfortunately for him, he wasn’t being missed at the moment.

In fact, Alice was too busy consoling a grieving ghost pony to worry about her fiancé. She, Rick and Fee were staring at the stuffed version of Tony, shedding actual tears. She knew that this wasn’t possible, but there it was. Like Our Lady of Lourdes, Tony the Pony was performing a miracle right here in their home.

Then suddenly, the ghostly pony piped up, “My new master is in trouble.” Until that moment, he’d been lamenting his fate incessantly. Especially the fact that his beloved Ines had decided to give him away as a present to Reece. But now he suddenly snapped out of his self-pity, and repeated, “My new master is in big, big trouble.” He seemed as surprised by this as his audience.

“What do you mean, your new master?” Alice asked.

“My old master has gifted me to Reece. He’s my new master now.” Tony bared his teeth, which was his way of smiling. “I remember Reece now. When he first came to me, he didn’t know a pony’s ass from his tail. It took him weeks to learn how to ride me, then finally when he graduated to a horse, he regretted having to desert me. Mainly because I was a lot closer to the ground than a horse. But I liked him. He was sweet, and we got along great.”

“Yeah, Reece is the best,” said Alice with a smile. Then her smile faded. “He’s in trouble?”

Tony nodded his large head. He’d collapsed onto the floor and was swishing his tail forlornly. “He’s been kidnapped.”

Alice clasped a hand to her mouth. “What?!”

“Reece has been kidnapped?” asked Fee, shocked.

The pony nodded again, something which Alice had never seen a pony do before, but then this was no ordinary pony, of course.

“Yep, he’s been abducted, and now he’s going to be locked up in that dungeon for the rest of his life unless we do something to save him.”

“Where is he?” Rick asked. “Who’s taken him? And for heaven’s sake, why Reece?”

Tony closed his eyes. “So many questions,” he muttered. “Lemme see. He’s at some place called Hartford Manor? Sound familiar?”

Alice looked at Fee. Of course they were familiar with Hartford Manor. It was a well-known haunted house—or at least rumored to be.

“Hasn’t that place been deserted for years?” Alice asked.

Felicity bit her lower lip. “No idea.”

“I’ll ask Dad,” Alice said curtly, before taking out her phone. Happy Bays’s chief of police was sure to know the story about Hartford Manor.