Page 2 of Death at a Scottish Halloween

“You’re a Yank,” he said.

“You must be new to town,” Abigail said. “Dr. Em has been here for more than a year. She came from Seattle.”

“Ah. That explains it. I’ve been out on the rigs for a time. Haven’t been back here in a while. It’s nice to meet you, Doc. If ever I need a medical, I’ll know where to go. As long as your office doesn’t look like that one.” He pointed behind him.

“I can assure you it doesn’t. I didn’t know the workers stayed out on the oil rigs for so long.”

He shrugged. “We’ve been shorthanded of late. I’m single, so I don’t mind the work. But after eight months, I had to take a mandatory leave for a few weeks.”

“And you have one of the art booths at the fairgrounds? I heard Mara talking about you and your team.”

“I do. I’m a carver. I hope you’ll stop by.”

“Oh, she will. The Doc loves all kinds of art and handmade things.” Abigail was far more talkative than usual; the groups we’d been decorating the house with were all quite kind. I don’t know what it said about us all working so well together to frighten people, but we did.

We headed to the green room. Mara was there with Jasper. They were passing out boxed meals for everyone working in the haunted house. People appeared to be in jovial moods. Our community pulling together to provide a bit of fun, and raise funds for a great charity, literacy and restoration of this old house.

After we ate, it was time to finish our gruesome makeup and take our places in the rooms. A haunting lullaby played throughout the house.

“The music alone is scary,” I said.

“It is creepy. Not as frightening as your makeup, though.” Abigail grinned.

“Once again, you did a great job. Though the blood coming off my lips doesn’t taste great.”

“Agreed.” She had the same coming from her eyes and mouth. “The price of beauty,” she said in her Scottish brogue.

The lights dimmed. We had soft lights on the bodies and some of the equipment covered in cobwebs. If this was my lab back at the practice, it would be polished to perfection. Abigail usually liked a tidy space.

It wasn’t long before some young teen boys came through.

“Nothing scary in this one,” a boy said. “Just a bunch of old junk.”

His friends nodded.

“Come in for your checkup,” I said. When I spoke, they yelped.

“We’re very hungry—for business,” Abigail said as she moved toward them.

The boys screamed. “I thought they were dummies,” one of them said. Abigail and I cackled.

For the next three hours we scared the wits out of people. I’d never laughed so hard in my life. Yes, it was mean, but also hilarious. My stomach actually hurt from giggling so hard.

When the lights came up, I was disappointed. “That was the most fun I’ve had in a while,” I said to Abigail.

She grinned. “It was. I had no idea I’d enjoy scaring people.”

“You were very much into your role. You owned it.”

It was hard to see through her white face makeup, but she was probably blushing again.

“I wonder how the others did?”

“From all the screams around the house, I would guess pretty well.”

“True. Do you mind if we make a few tweaks? I think if we move some of these bodies around, it will be even scarier.”

For the next half hour we moved things around until she was happy. Ever the perfectionist, she liked everything in its place—even in a haunted house.