Sexy Girls

by Gary S. Griffin

  I paused over that last comment.

  Red continued, “I accepted her apology.”

  I asked Red, “Why did Andi visit Fort Collins, Colorado?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Red continued, “Anyway, the last thing Andi said, right before she left, was that she had a few other leads she would follow. May be that's why she visited Colorado. Then, she gets killed. It totally freaked me out.”

  I said, “It is crazy!”

  Red answered, “I know. I can't believe this happened either. It just seemed to me that Andi and Cyndie were meant to be together.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Stevie let me explain, they’re bisexual and very feminine – I’m neither – I’m a lesbian. I can see now that Andi and Cyndie had a unique relationship. They loved each other, they both loved dressing up and being sexy, and they dreamed of you, especially Andi.”

  I must have looked stunned as Red made her point clear, “Yes, they loved you and wanted to be with you forever. Very much! I didn’t completely understand it, but they just fantasized all the time of being with you as a threesome. Can’t you see that? They needed you! Yes, they loved girl sex, but they needed a man who can accept them for who they are, but would still have straight sex with both of them. They knew you're that man. They were certain they could make you totally satisfied. Why not? You'd be with two gorgeous girls who adored you. That was their dream. Andi told me that deep down all three of you have known it for years. But, up to now, you've screwed up your lives. This was your chance to get it right. I wasn’t part of their future and I was dumb and slow to realize it. Andi really wanted the million and a half dollars to start you three off right in your new life.”

  Red paused, and then pleaded, “I’m sorry, but that’s the truth.”

  Man! Red had the three of us nailed perfectly. That was the shocking part. Somehow, I replied, “I didn’t see that. Are you sure?”

  “I'm completely sure.”

  I then asked, “What about the Sexy Girls, you guys were a threesome?”

  “For a while it seemed that way. But remember it started as Cyndie and me. Andi guessed right that we were having an affair. We asked Andi to join us, as she was lonely and horny. For a time we had great fun. Andi was really into submission and I like being a dominatrix, but, deep down, Andi really wanted to be with a man, you. Plus, Cyndie and Andi just wanted to dress up and look glamorous and sexy. I wanted to have wilder sex. They loved their soft hugs and French kisses and their dreams of life with you.

  “I got so sick of hearing how wonderful you are. I know now they loved fantasies, and you were a big part of theirs. Andi was totally captivated by the tales of your relationship with Cyndie, and your life as a detective. They believed if Andi could get divorced you’d fall in love with both of them. Andi said you were the best thing she ever had and was desperate to win you back. She dreamed about being married to you and having kids with you. Andi really wanted you, her hero.”

  I thought out loud, “That's what she told me.”

  Red continued, “I know it was true. Now, Cyndie, Cyndie just loved you – you're her only man and her best friend. I learned once and for all they didn’t need me. I moved on.”

  I didn’t know what to say. She's telling the truth, especially how Andi and Cyndie act towards me.

  Dinner ended and I thanked Red for all her help. Even though, in my mind, I struck out. As we were walking out to our cars, Red asked, “What are you going to do now?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I saw you sitting with Edie McCall tonight.”

  “Yes, I was.”

  “How did you guys meet?”

  I hesitated. “In California, a long time ago…”

  “Oh, that’s right, you and Edie saved Andi’s life. Are you guys together?”

  I hesitated again. “Well, we’re just starting…”

  I stopped talking. Red paused, thought, and said, “You know what, you two deserve each other. I think you two will be a great couple, now that Andi’s gone.”

  Then, she got in her car and drove off.

  nearly our time

  Edie and I met for a drink in our hotel's bar. She was still dressed in her white mini dress and big heels and sitting in a booth on the wall opposite the bar. Edie truly looked gorgeous and smelled clean and fresh, like a bouquet of wild flowers. Man, was Edie tempting! I gave her a long hug and kiss, but then, sat on the other side of her booth.

  Edie leaned over the table and whispered, “Oh, you’re such a handsome man in your coat and tie, Stevie.”

  “And, you’re such a sexy girl in your little dress, Edie.”

  “Oh, you’re a silly man.”

  She then asked, “What did you think of the show?”

  “It was OK. I didn’t like the clothes that much.”

  “I agree it was such conventional clothing. There really wasn't much imagination in those designs.”

  I silently agreed that the bikinis did leave little of the models' bodies to my imagination. But, I told her, “You were the most beautiful, enticing woman there.”

  “Thank you, Stevie.”

  She took a long, slow sip of her Chardonnay.

  I went over my dinner conversation with Red Sable, slowly, as Edie had many questions.

  “Edie, Red knew that Andi and Cyndie wanted me, not her. That's another reason she split from Philadelphia. Plus, she grew to hate Robert. Besides that, what I have all adds up to nothing. I can't see how Red's involved. I have nothing to go on.”

  “Stevie, Red definitely knows more than she lets on.”

  I answered, “But what? I'm not sure what she's hiding.”

  Edie responded, “She said a few things to me that revealed some of truth. First, when she learned about Cyndie and Andi's affair she hated it. Then, she wished she hadn't got so mad at them. I think she sought revenge. Because, if it wasn't Red or Robert or both of them, who else could have planned the blackmail?”

  “I don't know, but we're missing something. Plus, Robert and Red were out of town that night. We need to speak to Cyndie.”

  We speculated a little more, then Edie steered the conversation to my relationship with Cyndie.

  I quickly but politely got to the heart of the matter. I said, “Right as this investigation started, Cyndie and I realized it would never work with us. We agreed to be friends only.”

  Edie smiled and said, “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  “I didn’t know that, you know, with her staying at your home and us going to Rehoboth together.”

  I said, “Well, those things happened because Cyndie was scared when Andi disappeared and then was killed.”

  Edie paused, thought and said softly, “I never wanted to get between you and your girlfriends…”

  “Oh, Edie. It’s different now…”

  “Yes, it is, Stevie.”

  “There is no one else.”

  She said, “I never expected this,” then, went silent.

  I said, “When we get through this, let’s have a long, serious talk about our future.”

  She asked, “OK, promise?”

  “I promise. But, what about your movie?”

  “I start filming Tranquility later this summer, but it will be just a few months work.”

  I asked, “What about the other series?”

  “Oh, Stevie, other parts in other series may come my way. But, it wouldn't matter, you’d come first…”

  Edie stopped short. She realized what she said. “I’m sorry, Stevie. I’m out of line.”

  “No, you’re not, Edie.”

  She apologized, “Please forgive me. I love you so much…”

  She stopped herself again, then continued, “I didn’t mean to say that, I mean, not now, we’re in the middle of this tragedy. I’m such a jerk. “

  “Edie, I’m not upset, and you’re not a jerk. I love you and really care about you. It’s just…”

  “I know. My mind s
hould be on Andi and finding her killer…”

  She began to cry. She couldn’t say anything else. Her tears became uncontrolled. I moved to her side of the booth and held her for a long, long time until she was calmed down. Then, Edie looked up and gave me a kiss.

  Finally, I said, “Are you OK?”

  “I am because you’re here, Stevie.”

  I said, “I’m glad you here, too, Edie. I need you.”

  “I need you too. Do you think the time is right for us?”

  That simple but excellent question rocked me. I immediately thought of my recurring dream.

  I said, “I think our right time is almost here.”

  “Yes, I believe that, Stevie. We have something special.”

  “Yes, we do.”

  She said, “So, it wouldn’t be wrong to be with my special man tonight and dream about our future together?”

  “No, it wouldn’t be wrong.”

  She smiled, and then said with a touch of irony, “I’d love to spend tonight with you, but it’s that time of the month. That’s why I’m such an emotional mess. God, will our timing ever be right?”

  I put my finger on her lips. “No, don’t say that. I’ll stay with you, Edie. I’ll hold you like this.”

  She kissed me again. I reached for Edie’s hand, helped her out of the booth and walked to her room.

  ***

  I woke early the next morning, Wednesday, June 9. I was in love.

  I walked back to my room and called Cyndie. I briefed her on our findings in Fort Lauderdale and told her, Edie and I were leaving that day.

  I opened the curtains in my eleventh floor hotel room, walked out to the balcony and looked at the clear day. Warm, humid air flowed over me.

  Then, my cellphone rang. It was the security manager at the Kimmel Center. He wanted to show me something. I told him I was in Florida but would come by his office the next morning.

  The enticing blue Atlantic rolled up on the white sands far below me. The lure was too great. I quickly called Edie and we changed into our swimsuits and spent the next hour enjoying the Fort Lauderdale beach. I jumped in the warm 80-degree water and body-surfed the waves. Edie watched me from the shore. Sensational!

  ***

  We checked out of the hotel, drove to the airport and turned in the Mustang at the rental agency. Edie wanted me to call her whenever I had news. I kissed her goodbye as she had a later flight to Los Angeles. I headed down the wing to my plane that took me back to Philadelphia. We were contented, for now, and ready to fly away to our future.

  I was about to be shocked.

  the kimmel center again

  “I found something unusual, Garrett.”

  “What's that?”

  Jim Mason got up and went out to the Kimmel Center's security control center. I saw him pull open a filing cabinet drawer and remove a folder. After speaking to one of his officers, he returned to his office.

  “Garrett, a problem was reported by one of our officers in early February. It was the camera in the hallway outside that second floor lounge. It appears the camera was repaired on the following Monday, Feb. 16. That means we don't have video from Feb. 14. But, the strange part is that the work was done by the reporting officer, Jack Hostel. Hold on a minute.”

  Mason picked up his phone and called a woman at the outside security desk and asked her to come in to his office. He introduced me to Suzanne Jackson. She was a medium-built African American woman in her fifties and looked confident in her navy blue uniform. Mason instructed her, “Tell Garrett about this security officer named Jack Hostel.”

  Jackson replied, “Jack Hostel was assigned to another building in town, but moonlighted here when we needed extra people. But, he quit working for Quaker City about two months ago.”

  Mason held up the maintenance ticket and said, “It says here that Hostel found a problem in the front hallway's camera on the second floor Friday night, Feb. 13, during a musical and did the repair work later.”

  I asked, “Why did one of your security officers do the repairs?”

  While Mason hesitated, Jackson answered, “He had some talent in that area. Hostel liked electronics. We let him do the stuff when he said the repair was no big deal. It was a way for us to save money. Hostel did the repairs when he was on the clock and didn't charge us anything except for the supplies he needed.”

  It all seemed convenient, very convenient. I then asked Suzanne Jackson, “Where was Jack Hostel's regular assignment?”

  Jackson replied, “I don’t know.”

  Mason spoke up, “I can trace that. Thanks Suzanne.”

  Jackson went back to the front desk.

  Mason added, “Garrett, I didn't know this guy, Hostel. See, we’re not Kimmel Center employees. The center contracts with our company, Quaker City, to provide security here. It may sound strange, but Quaker City is a fairly big company, the largest security firm in the city, with over 150 security guards. My guess is that Hostel worked here occasionally, especially when we had a big event. On those full house nights, we can have as many as thirty officers here. We pull in guys from all around town. An orchestra concert is a big deal as the city's elite turn out and we would pull people in for that.”

  I commented, “It seems strange to use a guard for a camera repair.”

  Then, Mason replied, revealing the real reason for his co-operation; he was cutting corners to get things done. “We sometimes use our guys for moving furniture or for repairs as it saves money. See, money's tight in the budget and we look for savings. I’m not surprised that Suzanne or one of my people used this Hostel. I encourage it. This electronic stuff breaks down all the time and my guess is Hostel could do it for half the cost of a true professional.”

  I asked Mason, “Where was Hostel's regular place of work?”

  “Garrett, I'm not sure. See, why don't you contact our personnel office and ask them? Here, I'll write a quick note for you and you give this to Trudy Johnson. She's working today; I spoke to her before you arrived. I'll call Trude right now, and ask her to help you.”

  I sat patiently as Mason wrote the quick letter, which he handed me. Then, he made the call and told a bad joke about Trude's body as he asked for her assistance.

  I thanked him for all his help, and said my goodbyes to Mason and Suzanne Jackson in the outer office.

  new leads

  I found Quaker City's offices in South Philly. They were a block east of Broad Street and three blocks south of Snyder Avenue. It had an off-the-street parking lot. The office was a two-storied, flat-roofed, light blue stucco building that had five windows upstairs and four down, with a door in the middle. When I walked in, I immediately saw a lobby with a busy receptionist behind a desk.

  The middle-aged lady had a sign that indicated she was Joyce Romano. I said hello to Joyce and told her I was interested in meeting Trudy Johnson. I gave her my name and she said have a seat. Joyce got up from her desk and walked somewhere in back. Two minutes later, I had just started reading a Sports Illustrated, when Joyce returned with Trudy Johnson. Ms. Johnson was a medium-built African American woman in her thirties. She had a pleasant demeanor, and was wearing the company uniform of navy blue slacks and blue cotton shirt.

  We introduced ourselves and Ms. Johnson said she expected me. I handed Mason's letter to Ms. Johnson, which she read immediately. Whatever Mason wrote the result was surprising; full co-operation from Ms. Johnson.

  Ms. Johnson's face showed interest in my case and she asked me to follow her. On the walk to her office, she insisted that I call her Trudy and asked why I was interested in Jack Hostel. I told her that Hostel may know something about the blackmailing of my client, Cyndie Myst. That comment perked her curiosity. I continued my story by relating that Ms. Myst wanted me to talk to Hostel about an incident at the Kimmel Center in February. Mr. Hostel was working that night and may be familiar with the incident.

  Once we were seated in her office, Trudy told me that Hostel quit the company suddenly over two m
onths ago. His last day of work had been Saturday, March 20, 2004.

  “Did he leave a forwarding address?”

  Ms. Johnson replied, “Let me check his personnel file. I'll be back in a minute.”

  Five minutes later, Trudy returned with a brown-colored folder. She paged through it and said, “No he didn't, but his resume and personnel history sheet are here.”

  Trudy scanned further through the file and then, continued talking. “I can't let you look at this, but I like to read out loud.” She winked at me and said, “Did you bring a notebook?”

  I answered, “Yes, I did.”

  She started reading out loud, “He was born in Boulder, Colorado, and grew up in Fort Collins, Colorado.” My heart rate increased and I felt an adrenaline rush.

  Ms. Johnson read on, “It says that his mother still lives in Fort Collins at 53 Rodeo Drive. Her phone number is here too.” She recited the ten digits. Later, I checked my notes and discovered this number matched the second call Andi made from her Fort Collins hotel room.

  “Do you have Hostel's local address?”

  Trudy responded, “Yes, here it is. He lived at 2307 Oregon Avenue, here in South Philly.”

  “Is there any next of kin or emergency contact listed, with a local address or phone number?”

  Trudy continued looking at the file. “Yes, he shows a sister, named Melissa Hostel, with an address on 1839 Addison Street, here in Philadelphia.” She read the address and phone number.

  I asked, “How long did he work at Quaker City?”

  Trudy answered, “Less than three years.”

  “What was his regular assignment? Jim Mason told me it wasn't the Kimmel Center.”

  “Let's see.” Trudy closed the brown personnel file and picked up another notebook and scanned through the pages. “His last place of work was the Grayson Modeling Agency on Rittenhouse Square.”