by Liliana Hart
We’d decided to walk up and down Broughton Street and just return the packages to the car whenever our hands got too full. It turns out both of us were able to do quite a bit of retail damage in an hour, because the circulation was getting cut off in my fingers from all the bags. I was a champ at releasing stress through shopping.
“Nick and I had a fight this morning. I’m mostly over it now. And it’s not nice to bring up my swollen face. Not everyone can be a pretty crier.”
“I hear ya, girl. And maybe we should stop by Elizabeth Arden so they can put some cream on your eyes and touch up your makeup. The sales girl at Chico’s kept watching to see if you were going to start stuffing scarves down the front of your blouse. Speaking of blouses, you know I’d cut off my leg before I ever criticized anyone, but have you seen what you’re wearing today?”
I grimaced and looked down at my clothes. I was wearing red and green fleece pants tucked into my Uggs and an Atlanta Braves hooded sweatshirt that had a mustard stain right down the middle from a hotdog mishap. My hair was pulled back into a sloppy ponytail, but I had a black beanie cap pulled down low over my ears.
My mom always used to say when we were kids that we looked like we’d just rolled out of the missionary barrel. Mostly she said that to Phoebe because she did actually get a lot of her clothes from the lost and found at church. I was just glad my mother couldn’t see me now. I’d never hear the end of it.
“It was a bad fight.” I sighed and adjusted my bags as we made our way through sidewalk traffic back to the car. “I don’t know what’s going on. We’ve been having some problems, but I can’t really pinpoint the reason. Other than his job is stressful and it stresses me out to know how much he hates my job.”
“The way I see it, it’s not stress that’s the problem. The problem is that you’ve got one too many fish in your relationship frying pan. Nick is threatened by Savage. He’ll never come out and say so because that wouldn’t be manly. And we all know men are idiots when it comes to just saying what they really feel. What you’ve gotta do is reassure Nick that Savage is nothing more than a friend. He needs to know you’re committed a hundred percent.”
The thing about Rosemarie was that I was used to her being a train wreck, so it always took me a little off guard when she opened her mouth and good advice came out.
“Maybe you’re right.” I’d already made my choice. Nick was the one I loved, and Savage had just momentarily clouded my judgment.
“There’s no maybe about it. A woman staring down her last days of freedom doesn’t lie.”
“Good point.”
We were at the corner of Broughton and Abercorn, waiting for the signal to walk when a black Tahoe swerved in front of us and the doors opened. At first I thought it was a police unit, but then the men holding guns on us penetrated the fog in my brain and I realized we might be in trouble.
I barely had time to blink before and man tossed me into the Tahoe. All the seats had been removed, I guess because it made it more convenient to abduct people. I kicked out with my legs and did every self-defense move I’d ever been taught over the years, but sometimes the bad guys were just stronger.
I heard a couple of grunts and a stream of inventive swear words from Rosemarie as two guys tried to get her into the van. It would’ve almost been comical except for the fact that I was probably going to die. My hands were jerked together and tied with zip ties, and a bag was pulled down over my head.
I felt the Tahoe dip and heard a grunt as Rosemarie was tossed in and then we were speeding off through traffic. It seemed like we’d been there forever—surely long enough for someone to get a license plate number and call it in. But in reality it had only taken seconds for us to be abducted.
The ties around my wrists bit into my skin and I was starting to hyperventilate from the bag over my head. Nothing in my P.I. exams had prepared me for this, and I was seriously thinking about filing a complaint if I managed to get out of this mess.
I curled up in a little ball in the corner, my head knocking against the door every time we hit a bump. I couldn’t tell how closely I was being watched because of the bag over my head, but from the ruckus Rosemarie was making I was betting their attention was focused on her.
I stuck my hands into the front pocket of my hoodie and felt around for my phone. I knew when the keypad came up for me to type in my code and unlock the phone that there was a button that said emergency at the bottom, but I couldn’t remember which side it was on.
I shook my head some and tried to duck my chin so I could see something other that blackness, and a nervous giggle almost escaped when light hit my eyes. My palms were sweaty and the phone slick in my grasp, but I hit the emergency button and then just prayed.
We hit another bump and the phone shot out of my hand and down into the side pocket in the door. I was too scared to speak all the curse words I was thinking out loud, but they were bad ones and I was probably going to have to say a prayer or two to make restitution. Though probably God would be pretty lenient considering I’d been kidnapped and tossed like a sack of potatoes into the back of a Tahoe.
We hadn’t gone too far by the time the car jerked to a stop, and my head whacked against the side of the door again.
“I’m not getting the feisty one again,” one of the men said. “She kicked me right in the balls.”
“You’d have to have balls for her to actually reach them,” someone else said. “Don’t be such a pussy.”
The car doors opened and I almost rolled onto the ground. One of them grabbed me from under the armpits, hauled me up, and tossed me over his shoulder. I kept my fingers crossed they wouldn’t see the phone in the side panel. The bag slipped off my head and I blinked rapidly at the sudden light. My stomach was roiling from the upside down motion and I figured whoever was carrying me deserved a little vomit on his shoes if he kept jostling me around. I shuddered to think how they were transporting Rosemarie. She wasn’t exactly easy to toss over the shoulder.
Sleet stung my face and then we were indoors and a blast of intense heat took the place of the cold. It was too hot and droplets of water dripped down my nose and plopped to the floor.
“I’m gonna be sick,” I said. It was enough to get my captor to drop me to the floor. I landed hard on my knees, but was grateful they’d tied my hands in front of me so I didn’t smash my face against the floor. A broken nose would be very unflattering.
“Get up, bitch,” he said and pulled my hair to get me to my feet.
I caught my reflection in the metal of the elevator doors and recognized the wild-eyed panic. Tears leaked from the corners of my eyes and my breath was coming much too quickly. I caught sight of Rosemarie and saw she wasn’t faring much better. Her face was pale and her eye makeup was smeared under her eyes. And if I wasn’t mistaken a bruise was forming on her cheek.
“Are you okay?” I asked her.
“I’m fine,” she said as the shoved us into the elevator. “But I got a rip in my favorite pants and I don’t think my bladder is as strong as it once was.”
The two guys guarding Rosemarie scrunched up their faces and took a step away from her.
“So where are we?” I asked. “I assume there’s a reason you abducted two unsuspecting women right off the street.”
I wasn’t sure where in the city we were. It was hard to recognize landmarks when you were hanging upside down. The building was old and the elevator rattled as we made our way to the top. From what Savage had told me about Travis Elias, I was willing to bet this was another one of his buildings that they used for filming.
The elevator rattled to a stop and we all balanced our weight as it gave an extra jerk at the end. The doors opened to reveal a floor that didn’t match the rest of the building. Everything was pure opulence—marble floors and high ceilings, plush white couches and subtle touches of art. I wondered briefly how they kept the white couches clean.
The guy assigned to me poked me in the back with his gun to push me forward
and I stumbled out unsteadily.
“Lord, that’s a lot of white. How do they keep it clean?” Rosemarie asked. “I had a white couch once and by the time I got rid of the thing it was so gray it looked like a thundercloud.”
“Do you ever shut up, lady?” One of the men asked.
“No. And I talk a lot when I’m nervous so you should probably prepare yourselves. Cause I’m pretty nervous right now with that gun pointed at me. Maybe you could put it down.”
“Or maybe I’ll just shoot you in the damned throat and be done with it.”
“Well that would certainly make it difficult to keep the room clean. Blood isn’t easy to get out of fabric.”
“I want a fucking raise,” the guy mumbled.
They led us down a long hallway to one of the bedrooms and I had a brief moment of panic when I saw the giant white bed that was the focal point of the room. I had an even bigger moment of panic when I saw Travis Elias’s body sprawled on the floor, his face bashed in to the point of almost being unrecognizable. Little black spots danced in front of my visions and I gripped the closest arm to steady my balance. My skin was cold and clammy with sweat.
Sounds of gagging came from my left and when I turned to look Rosemarie slapped her hand over her mouth and squenched her eyes closed.
“Just look the other way,” I told her. “If you throw up then I’ll be right behind you.” I was a sympathetic vomiter.
She gagged one more time and then turned around the other direction. “I swear, Addison. This is almost getting ridiculous. If you keep finding bodies like this I don’t know if we can hang out. It’s like you have a cloud of death hanging over you all the time. Like the Grim Reaper.”
“Excuse me?” I asked. I’d had enough of the death references. I was not in the mood. I’d had a fight with Nick, was dressed like a rag picker, and I was having my period. “None of this is my fault. You’re the one who burned the stupid motor out of your stupid vibrator. You’re the one who got us into this mess by losing your damned mind and breaking shit at Priscilla’s Love Shack. I just wanted to eat my scone in peace. You’ve got to get a hold of yourself woman. You need sex rehab. Or more fucking donuts.”
“Umm, ladies—” one of the guys tried to interrupt. But I shot him a look and he backed up a step.
“I don’t need sex rehab,” Rosemarie said, her voice going shrill. “What I need is the product I paid for to work. And it’s not like I knew we were going to find a dead body. But I shoulda figured with you along for the ride. Which reminds me, I’m going to give that Detective Jacoby a piece of my mind the next time I see him. I’m a tax-paying citizen. I got rights. And he stole my motherfucking M&Ms. Who does shit like that?”
“Ladies—” the guy said again.
“Can’t you see we’re in the middle of something?” I said. I ignored him and then turned back to Rosemarie. “I’m just saying that I think you owe me an apology for the death comment. What’s a few bodies here and there? Look at all the people I encounter on a daily basis who are still alive.”
Rosemarie nodded sagely. “That’s a good point. I didn’t consider that aspect. I apologize for associating the cloud of death with your name.”
“Maybe if you ladies are finished with your camp fire confessions we can get down to business.”
I recognized that voice, and I guess I shouldn’t have been too surprised to see him here. But with Travis Elias dead there was really only one other who benefitted the most from Priscilla’s death.
I hadn’t liked Lance Mayhew the first time I’d met him. There’s got to be a special level in hell for that kind of narcissism, and even now he was posed against the doorframe, one foot crossed in front of the other and his long flowing locks hanging over one shoulder. His shirt was unbuttoned down to the middle of his chest and his slacks were crisply pressed.
“You look just like the guy on that butter commercial, except you’re a little thicker around the waist.” Rosemarie said. “Makes me hungry.”
Anger flashed across Lance’s face and he stood up straight, crossing his arms over his chest. Apparently he didn’t like hearing he was thick around the waist. He also didn’t have good control of his emotions which could be bad for my and Rosemarie’s health. Anyone with a quick trigger finger had to be handled delicately. And neither of us were known for our subtlety.
“I’ll make this fast because I don’t particularly care to draw it out or prolong your lives in any way.” He looked at Rosemarie and she audibly gulped and grabbed my hand. “My wife gave you something when you visited her store. I want it back. We searched your house, but didn’t what we were looking for. And those damn dogs of yours were making so much racket we were afraid the neighbors were going to call the cops.”
Rosemarie gasped. “You’re the ones who did that to my cushions? That couch was genuine leather. I’m a teacher. I can’t afford to replace things just because you decide to tear it up. I expect to have a replacement within a week, do you hear me?”
“Uh, huh. My heart is breaking for you. If you think to hold out on me because we’re going to kill you anyway then know what I have no problem with a little torture until someone gives me the information I want. Big Brutus over there has a taste for the zaftig.”
Rosemarie and I both turned our heads in unison and stared at Big Brutus. He was built like a bull and looked kind of like one too. He smiled and rubbed the front of his crotch until it looked like he had a baseball bat stuffed down the front of his pants.
I didn’t want to say it, but I was sure glad Big Brutus liked zaftig women.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Rosemarie said. “That’s a pretty intimidating threat, and I’m going to keep it under consideration once you tell me what the hell Priscilla supposedly gave to me. But I think what I’m really surprised about right now is that you know what zaftig means and used it correctly in a sentence. I don’t want to offend you or anything, but you don’t seem all that bright on first impression.”
“Neither do you. Most people wouldn’t be mouthing off in front of someone pointing a gun at them.”
Rosemarie shrugged like it was a common occurrence to be held at gunpoint, and I decided at that point to let her do the talking. She was cool as a cucumber. It was very un-Rosemarie like.
“You said you were going to kill us anyway. What have we got to lose?”
I wasn’t too sure I was all that fond of Rosemarie’s use of the collective we. I was still trying to figure out how I’d gotten lumped into this mess. If only I’d called Kate to go shopping instead of Rosemarie my future would be looking quite a bit brighter right now.
I tried to be as covert as possible in scanning the room. There were the four guys who’d kidnapped us at our back, plus two more that had appeared from somewhere once we’d gotten to the top floor. It was all a little blurry after I saw Travis Elias’s body. I didn’t see Pirate Pete anywhere, so I was assuming Travis had made good on his threat and fired him. Which was kind of a shame. He seemed like an affable enough guy.
“Just hand over the thumb drive and I’ll make sure it’s a quick death. It’s the best I can do under the circumstances.”
“I’m telling you I don’t know anything about a thumb drive or anything else your wide supposedly gave me. The only thing that woman gave me was a busted vibrator.”
Rosemarie dug around in his cross body bag and whipped out the vibrator, much the same as she had a few days before. The guy standing closest to her dodged out of the way in the nick of time. If that thing had made contact with his face he would’ve been down for the count. It definitely had some heft behind it. I could only imagine that Rosemarie’s vaginal muscles must be like one of those walnut crunchers to take down such a mighty beast. It made what happened to Leroy all the more scary.
I shook my head in wonder as a room full of men looked around, unsure of what course of action one should take when a crazed woman was swinging a dildo in one’s face.
“I barely got a handful of uses ou
t of it before it petered out. So I took it back to the store and she shipped it back to the manufacturer. But when it came back it was the same thing. It’d barely get going before it died dead as a doornail. So I took it back again on Monday night and she was real rude this time. Like it was my fault or something.”
“She was a bitch on wheels,” Lance said. “But she was fucking brilliant.” He got a funny look on his face when he stared at the vibrator and then he said, “Open it up. Like you’re going to take the batteries out.”
“This is the plug-in model,” Rosemarie said. “It revs like a damned lawnmower.”
“It’s the newest model. They have a battery backup just in case you need to travel and are unable to find an outlet.”
“Huh. I didn’t know that. That’s real convenient if you’re camping in the woods or something.”
“Jesus,” I said, shaking my head. “Let me see the damned thing. I’m ready for them to put bullets in our heads already.”
“You can be a real bitch when you’re on your period,” she huffed, handing over the vibrator.
I gave her my best bitch look and took the device between the tips of my fingers. “What’s the big deal about finding a stupid flash drive anyway?” I asked. “Priscilla’s dead. It’s not like anyone needs to know she had it.”
“Just because she’s dead doesn’t mean it couldn’t end up in the wrong hands. There’s a lot of sensitive information on the drive. How the hell do you think she knew who to squeeze for money? After she’d gotten enough money to retire from the industry and open that shop of hers she was supposed to stop with the blackmail. But she loved the money too much. And mostly she just liked wringing the life out of the people she despised. She was a vicious, vengeful bitch.”
“You should have a care how you speak of the dead,” Rosemarie said. “What kind of manners is that?”
“Was she squeezing you for money too?” I asked, trying to divert his attention back to me just in case he was tempted to put a bullet in Rosemarie’s brain.
