Ghost of a Chance Page 4

  As Cleo lay back on her pillows, Carmen turned to Terry. “Get out of here,” she said. “Haven’t you done enough today. You nearly killed her with your stupid flying stunt. Come on. All of you—out!”

  “Cleo, if you think of anything, let us know,” Joe called back as the Hardys and Terry left the hospital room.

  In the parking lot Frank looked up at Cleo’s window. “You know, she did act really scared when she was talking about some of the stuff happening on this mountain,” he said.

  “Yeah.” Joe nodded. “But I saw the same expression on her face earlier tonight during the shoot. It was when she was supposedly running from Gus—and that time she was just acting.”

  The ride back to the studio compound was quiet. Frank realized how tired he was. Wrangling bears and pumas on a movie set could be pretty hard work. As Frank pulled through the gates of the compound, two studio security guards stepped in front of the truck and held up their hands.

  “What’s happening here?” Joe wondered out loud from the backseat.

  Frank eased the truck to a stop and rolled down his window. But the guards went to the passenger side and opened the door.

  “Terry Lavring?” one of the guards said.

  “Yes,” Terry answered.

  “Step out of the truck, please,” the guard said.

  Terry and the Hardys got out of the truck. Frank walked around to where Terry and Joe stood. “What’s the problem, Officer?” Frank asked.

  “Our business is with Mr. Lavring,” the guard said. Then he turned to Terry. Frank watched in astonishment as the guard spoke: “Mr. Lavring, we have been ordered to inform you that your services on this film have been terminated, effective immediately.”

  5

  Is Bigfoot Afoot?

  “What are you talking about!” Terry said. “Fired! No way. Is this some kind of joke?”

  “It is no joke, sir,” the security guard said. “You are officially off the production as of this moment. Please leave the premises now.”

  “This is ridiculous,” Terry said. He started to walk down the road, but the guard stepped in front of him and blocked his path. “Get out of my way. I’m going to my house. I’ll straighten this all out with Dustin in the morning.”

  “Your house has been cleared, Mr. Lavring,” the guard informed him. “All your personal belongings have been packed in boxes. We will escort you to your house and assist you in packing the boxes into the tractor trailer you drove here. Then you must leave. You will no longer be allowed on studio property.”

  “What about my equipment, my rigs?” Terry asked.

  “The producer’s staff is going through everything right now. Studio property will be retained. Everything else will be shipped to your ranch.”

  “Come on,” Terry said. “At least let me supervise the packing. They could damage my equipment. If anything happens to my property, the studio is in for the lawsuit of the century!”

  “We’ll help you pack up,” Joe said.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” the guard said to Joe. “We will escort Mr. Lavring. It would be best if you just went to your quarters.”

  “Go on, guys,” Terry said. “We’re not going to get anywhere with these two. Don’t worry about me—I’ll contact you tomorrow.”

  Terry stomped off down the road, the two guards hurrying to keep up. The Hardys got back in the truck and drove to their house. As Frank parked the truck, Gene and Lloyd came out to greet them.

  “Terry just got fired,” Frank told them.

  “We know,” Lloyd said. “We’re glad you’re back. Berk Shearer is inside.”

  “The actor who’s playing Jumper?” Joe asked. “He came back out here from town?”

  “That’s right,” Lloyd answered. “He couldn’t sleep, so he came to talk. Go figure.”

  When they went inside, Berk was sitting at the kitchen table. Joe figured he was probably in his late twenties. He didn’t look like a movie star, but he did bear a slight resemblance to the pictures the Hardys had seen of Jumper Herman.

  Gene introduced the Hardys to Berk, cutting slabs of cherry pie for the five of them.

  “So you heard about Terry getting fired,” Frank said.

  “We sure did—you missed all the fireworks,” Gene reported. “After you three left, Dustin went nuts, ranting about how if there was a jinx on this production, it was Terry and his stunts. He was even talking like he thought Terry might be intentionally sabotaging the production.”

  “The producers talked to the studio head a couple of times—he’s back in L.A.,” Lloyd added. “The next thing we knew, Terry was out. The set designer told us, and he got the story from Dustin’s assistant.”

  “You know, I like Terry,” Gene said, “and he’s got a great reputation in the business. But we don’t really know him all that well.”

  “Yeah, but I can’t believe he’s responsible for any of the problems they’ve been having,” Lloyd said. “We’ve worked with him before, and he’s always been great. No problems at all.”

  “Why would he sabotage a movie he’s working on?” Frank wondered out loud. “Does he have any history with Dustin or anyone else connected with the movie?”

  “I don’t think so,” Gene said. “He told us this is the first time he’s worked for this studio.”

  “I’ve never worked with him before,” Berk said. “But I’ve heard he’s really good.”

  “It looks as if you won’t get a chance to work with him on this film, either,” Frank said. “Who’ll take over the stunts? Is this going to throw a kink in the shooting schedule?”

  “Dustin’s flying in someone he knows and has worked with a lot,” Lloyd said. “Most of the big stunts are already shot, anyway.”

  “Well, tomorrow should be great,” Joe said. He took a small notebook from his pocket and skimmed his notes. “It’s the scene right after Jumper ditches the plane. He’s hurt his leg, and he’s knocked out. Then he comes to, checks out his leg, and gets out of the parachute. All this time, Omar is looking down on him from a nearby bluff.”

  “And Jumper—I—don’t know I’m being watched,” Berk said in a low, spooky voice. He stood up. “I take a few hesitant steps.” He began limping around the kitchen. “Where’s my bag, where’s that loot?”

  “It’s dark, right?” Frank asked.

  “Right,” Berk said. “Nothing but moonlight, but there’s plenty of that. I have no flashlight or anything. And I’m beating the bushes, looking for my leather bag.”

  “Which may have spilled out some of the treasures,” Gene observed.

  “True,” Joe agreed. “So he’s frantically searching, and suddenly he hears a low growl.”

  “Omar’s big moment,” Lloyd said with a grin.

  “You bet,” Joe said, closing the notebook.

  “Well, I’m going to head back into town,” Berk said. “It’s really late now.”

  “He’s staying at the inn,” Gene pointed out. He walked Berk to the door, saying, “See you tomorrow. It’ll be a great scene.”

  “Let’s hope,” Berk said with a smile.

  After he left, the Hardys and the wranglers sat up a couple of minutes longer and talked about Terry and his firing.

  “Cleo’s definitely not going to like it,” Lloyd said. “She and Terry are pretty close.”

  “Speaking of Cleo,” Frank said. He told the wranglers about the hospital visit.

  “I’m glad she’s going to be back on the set soon,” Gene said. “She’s got guts to be willing to keep at it in spite of the threats.”

  “That reminds me,” Frank said, reaching into his pocket. “What kind of animal has hair like this?” he asked, showing Gene and Lloyd the dark tuft of fur he had found near the abandoned shack.

  “A bear, I suppose,” Lloyd said, “but I’m not sure of the color. It’s not really black. Maybe a cub before its mature hair grows in.”

  “I don’t think it was a cub,” Joe said. “Not with these footprints.” He showed the wrang
lers the drawing and dimensions he’d recorded.

  The Hardys told Gene and Lloyd about the abandoned shack. “The strangest thing was the smell,” Frank concluded. “I swear it was the same odor that bear had when it slammed into me earlier.”

  Gene got an envelope and slipped the tufts of fur into it. “I’ll check this out under the microscope I keep for emergency medical situations,” he said. “See if I can identify it.”

  “Well, guys, we need to get some sleep,” Lloyd said as he stood up from the table. “Joe, tomorrow morning you work with us—we shoot the scene with Omar at six-thirty. I need you rested and alert.”

  “I’ll be ready,” Joe said. His eyes shone with excitement. “I can’t wait!”

  “I’m going to use the time off tomorrow to follow some leads,” Frank said. “I want to talk to some of the cast and crew.”

  Gene and Lloyd went out to the trailers to check Gus and Omar before they retired to their rooms. Frank and Joe grabbed some bottles of water and went to the bedroom they shared.

  “Man, this bed feels good,” Frank said as he sank into the mattress.

  “Agreed,” Joe called out from his bed.

  The last thing Frank saw before his eyes shut was the glowing clock face, its hands pointing at twelve.

  The first thing Frank saw when his eyes opened was the clock showing him it was one-twenty. What was that? A noise outside? he thought. Or was it just a dream? He thought about the yellow eyes at the shack window and could almost feel the impact of the large animal that knocked him down.

  “I wonder …” he mumbled as he got out of bed.

  He went to the window and looked out. A beam of light from the security lamp on the barn lit a path behind the little steel house. He saw nothing unusual out there.

  Frank sat at a small desk in front of the window and opened his laptop. In minutes he had accessed the Internet and was searching for information about Bigfoot.

  “Whoa,” he whispered to himself. There were nearly a hundred and fifty thousand web sites about a Bigfoot monster, with reports from dozens of states and nearly every continent.

  He narrowed his search to Bigfoot/Tennessee. Lists of research summaries, fuzzy photos, and reports of sightings appeared. Attacks and damage supposedly caused by Bigfoot creatures from seven to nine feet tall were described. There were also photos of what were supposed to be monster footprints and tufts of fur. Several sighters mentioned a foul odor—the Bigfoot in the Florida Everglades was even nicknamed Skunk Ape.

  Frank combed his hand through his hair. Nah, he thought as he leaned back in the chair. It couldn’t be …

  A shuffling noise outdoors stopped his thoughts instantly. He sat up straight, focused on the night sounds. Cautiously, he stepped to the window and pulled the curtain aside. His eyes adjusted to the darkness, but he still saw nothing unusual outside.

  As he turned away, he heard another noise, like the creaky snap of breaking wood. He pulled on his jacket and started for the door.

  “Hey, what’s up?” Joe asked sleepily as he raised up on his elbows.

  “I heard something outside,” Frank said.

  “I’m right with you,” Joe said. After bolting from bed, he pulled on jeans and a sweatshirt and followed Frank.

  The night air was crisp, and the thin mist made everything seem blue-grayish and blurry. Frank pointed to himself and motioned toward the barn. Joe nodded and gestured that he would check around the house.

  They split up, and Frank crept beside the bushes along the path to the barn. He noticed there were no strange vehicles in sight, but he still had the feeling someone—or something—was trespassing.

  As he reached the corner of the barn, all his senses were on high alert. He was barely breathing, and his heart pounded in his chest. Choosing each step carefully, Frank started around the corner.

  With a rush through the gray-blue veil of mist, a large blurry form loped away from the barn toward the animal trailers. The nervous cry of a mountain lion broke the stillness.

  ’Frank started after the intruder. But as he left the protective covering of the barn, he felt a blow to the back of his head and saw bright lights shoot through his brain. He dropped to his knees, and as he fell, the sickening feeling of losing consciousness rippled through his body.

  6

  Or Is It a Ghost?

  As Frank headed toward the barn, Joe circled the house. The nighttime mountain mist made all the outlines and landmarks fuzzy. He moved slowly, not wanting to give himself away by using a flashlight.

  The penetrating whine of a mountain lion pierced the air and shot down Joe’s spine. He rushed toward the animal trailers but stumbled over a heap on the ground.

  “Frank! Frank!” Joe called as he realized whom he had tripped over. He felt his brother’s pulse and was relieved to feel a normal beat.

  “Man, what hit me?” Frank wondered, coming to.

  “I don’t know,” Joe said. “I was behind the house when I thought I heard Omar crying. I was heading toward the trailers when I found you knocked out.”

  “Yeah, I heard that cry, too,” Frank said, shaking his head. “And I saw something run from the barn. It was headed straight for the trailers.”

  “I’m on it,” Joe said. “You stay here and catch your breath.”

  “Are you kidding?” Frank said. “You’re not going without me. Come on.”

  When they reached the animal trailers, all was well. Awakened by Omar’s cry, Gene was tending to Gus, and Lloyd was checking Omar. Frank told the wranglers what had happened.

  Relieved that their animal stars were unharmed, Gene and Lloyd decided to bunk with Omar and Gus for the rest of the night. Frank and Joe returned to the house and called the studio security chief to report Frank’s assault.

  Two security officers came over immediately to interview the Hardys, Gene, and Lloyd. Then the officers and Joe searched the area while the doctor examined Frank.

  “So what did the doctor say?” Joe asked, when he finally returned to bed.

  “I’ll live,” Frank said, touching the lump on his head. “Did you find anything out there?”

  “Not really,” Joe said. “It looks like someone tried to break into the barn. There’s a piece of siding ripped off. Gene and the security guys think it might have been done by a wild animal.”

  “I’m going to crash,” Frank said, falling back on his bed.

  “It’s three o’clock,” Joe added. “Gene and Lloyd got our start time moved to eight, but that’s still going to roll around pretty quick.”

  “Since I’m not needed tomorrow, I’m going to sign up as an extra,” Frank said. “I want to hang around the set to talk to the cast and crew about what’s been going on.”

  Tuesday morning the four wranglers grabbed a quick breakfast. They resolved to get more food from the commissary when they got to the location.

  Gene and Lloyd packed up Omar and drove the trailer to the location up the mountain. Joe followed in one of the wrangler trucks.

  Frank felt better. He unloaded the shipment of feed that arrived at eight-thirty. Then he drove the other truck up to the location.

  When Frank reached the mountainside set, he went to the assistant director’s trailer and signed in for duty as an extra. He was assigned the part of a reporter for a press conference scene later that day. He’d have no lines, just be part of the press crowd.

  Frank’s next stop was to wardrobe to get his costume for the part. The wardrobe mistress picked out a suit for Frank to wear during the filming. A small plastic press badge was clipped to the jacket pocket.

  He wandered over to join a gathering near the commissary. He recognized the lighting director, a cameraman, a few other extras, Sassy Leigh, and Berk Shearer. Sassy sat on a wooden bench and moved over to make room for Frank. They were all talking about Cleo’s note from the day before.

  “So who do you think’s behind all this?” Frank asked the group.

  “Who—or what,” Sassy said with a sl
y smile.

  “There she goes again,” the lighting director said with a chuckle.

  “It’s the ghost of Jumper Herman,” one of the extras said, imitating Sassy.

  “No—it’s Bigfoot,” the cameraman chimed in.

  Several people applauded, and others laughed. Even Sassy laughed. “Okay, okay, give me a break. They all think I’m nuts,” she said to Frank.

  “So your guess is that Bigfoot or Jumper’s ghost has been causing all the trouble around here,” Frank concluded.

  “Now, I wouldn’t go that far,” Sassy said. “Let’s put it this way. A good folklorist gathers the legends and studies the documentation. A great folklorist keeps an open mind.”

  “What got you into folklore anyway?” Berk asked.

  Sassy put down her neon purple clipboard and leaned back with a dreamy look. Tiny lines angled out from the corner of her eyes as she smiled.

  “You know, I used to be really skeptical about so-called monsters—the Loch Ness serpent and, yes, Bigfoot. I always figured they were hoaxes. But the more I examined the evidence and the more people I interviewed—well, let’s just say I think the creatures … existence is definitely possible.”

  “Talking about Bigfoot again, Sassy?” Cleo’s voice immediately drew the group’s attention, as she pulled up in an electric golf cart.

  Frank stood and offered his seat on the bench to Cleo. She limped over, her foot encased in a temporary cast fastened with Velcro. The cast was the same bright red as her windsuit. She gave him a nervous smile.

  The group talked about Cleo’s accident, several people telling where they were and what they saw. Frank asked questions, but learned nothing. No one saw anyone tampering with the stunt rigging or Cleo’s harness. As the others talked, he noticed that the conversation made Cleo nervous.

  “You were asking earlier who you thought is behind all the problems with this shoot,” one of the extras said to Frank. “If you ask me, someone ought to take a close look at Terry Lavring.”

  “Oh, come on,” Cleo said. Her cheeks flushed, and her eyes flashed with quick anger. “I’ve worked with Terry before. He would never set out to ruin a film. I don’t believe it for a minute.”