Page 101

“Why were you trying to kill us?”

“I don’t even know who you are.” Simmons pointed at Zach. “I was trying to takehimout!”

“Why?”

“Do I even know you?” Zach protested.

Flint reached down and dragged off the sheer gray stocking Simmons wore over his head. The weirdly smooshed features rearranged themselves into a completely unfamiliar face.

“Doyou know him?” Flint demanded.

Zach stared.

Simmons scowled back at him.

Zach slowly shook his head, but then a small but key piece of memory clicked into place.

“Wait a sec. Yes. I do. You’re the head of security for Old Timey Fun, Ltd!”

“I’m not saying another word,” Simmons said quickly. “I want a lawyer.”

“No? Sure about that?” Flint gave Simmons another of those teeth-rattling shakes. Simmons cried out in pain. And, despite the fact that he’d been willing to shoot the guy a few minutes earlier, Zach couldn’t help a wince of sympathy.

Flint demanded, “Why were you trying to kill Davies?”

The man moaned. “I’mdyinghere, you bastard.”

“Not from that little hole in your leg.”

“The asshole blew half my fucking leg off!”

“Talk.”

Simmons babbled, “Once the cops got suspicious about Beacher’s accident, Mr. Jordan knew he’d eventually come under suspicion. He came up with the idea to make it look like one of Beacher’s kinky playmates murdered him out of jealousy. But to make that idea stick, we figured your friend had to be attacked, too. That way it would look like some crazy queer was after both of them.”

“There never was any Galileo.” Zach had suspected as much. Not that it mattered. There had been plenty of other Galileos.

“Nah. Mr. Jordan came up with that on the spur of the moment.” Simmons sounded a little proud of Rusty’s initiative.

Flint was not impressed. “How do you dumbasses not know the police are already onto your boss?”

“That’s why he panicked.” Simmons nodded at Zach. “Afterheshowed up asking questions, Mr. Jordan knew we had to commence phase two. He figured if Davies was dead, the police wouldhaveto take the idea of a jealous boyfriend seriously. We knew it had to happen tonight before they dragged him in for questioning tomor—” He broke off, listening.

Zach heard it, too.

The entire structure seemed to shake beneath that heavy, rhythmic pound.

A police battering ram?

Flint met his gaze, said calmly, “That’s our cue.”

Simmons began to shout, “Help! Help! Police!”

“Attention! Inside the building!” Bill Cameron’s voice, magnified by a bullhorn, reached them. “Come out with your hands up!”

As abruptly as it had come to life, Malice Mansion went dark. The animatronics stopped mid-antic. The music and sound effects died. The lights blinked off.

Outside the building, Lt. Cameron was still exhorting them to exit the building with their hands locked behind their heads.