by P. J. Morse
The fabric looked like a thong. And, as Cookie’s roommate, I happened to know that she favored black thongs. The only question remaining was did he steal it, or did she leave it there?
“What’s that?” I asked.
“What?” he asked.
“That string you just threw.”
“I’m knitting a scarf,” he replied.
“You knit?” I asked, trying to imagine him chilling in his recliner, poking his needles into some yarn and making himself fluffy sweaters for the winter.
“It relaxes me,” he replied, finally sitting down. He pulled the recliner lever, leaned back, and said, “Feel free to spiel.”
I decided to trust Wolf and tell him everything. It was a risk, but Kevin trusted him enough to mention him as someone I could turn to if I were in trouble. I sat in the other recliner and told him, “Well, Kevin said I could do this when I first got hired, and he’s no longer with us, so here goes. I’m a detective. My real name is…”
Wolf started laughing, cutting me off before I could even say my name. “Thank you! After tonight, I needed a laugh!”
“What’s so funny?”
His recliner creaked with every giggle. He shook his head and drank from an open can of Major Rager that was sitting on top of a cardboard box. “You’re the one flying the crazy plane? Okay, okay, you can hide from the cameras a while and get your marbles together. We all lose a marble every now and then.” He swept his hand by his left ear, as if a marble had just flown out of it.
“No. You don’t get it. I am really a private detective. Kevin hired me to protect Patrick. From the stalker? Right?”
Wolf’s face turned serious. He got so serious that he straightened up the recliner and started speaking English. “How do you know about the stalker? Did Patrick tell you? I’m sorry, but if you’re a detective, I’m a ballerina. Now, look, you can hang out in the cabana all you want, okay? There’s no cameras, I promise. But don’t freak out on me here.”
I panicked, standing up out of my recliner. “I am too a detective!”
“No professional detective would bang Patrick!” he yelled. Then he blushed. “I’m sorry. That was ungentlemanly.”
“I haven’t — to borrow your words — banged him!” I shouted back.
Wolf folded his arms across his chest and gave me a look like he was about to put me in a straitjacket. “You know what? You aren’t the detective. Why? Because I hired the damn detective, and you must not be much of a detective if you don’t know who it is.”
“What?” I asked. “What makes you think Kevin didn’t hire me?”
“Because I told him I hired someone,” he replied. “Why would he hire a second detective?”
Because he didn’t trust you, I thought. He wanted someone of his own on the inside — not someone who answered directly to Patrick.
“You really don’t believe that Kevin hired me?” I asked.
“Look, do I think you knew Kevin before the show? Yes. He seemed to like you. The crew knows half these women from other auditions and shows they did. Greg’s been wanting to have Tina on a show since she auditioned for Sexy Single Dad. I think they’re banging now…”
“You think so? You can be sure of it,” I told him.
“How did you know?” he asked.
I shook my head and walked toward the cabana door. “Your detective must not be that bright. It isn’t hard to figure that relationship out. If your detective is so great, are they any closer to finding the killer?”
“No. Why? Do you know something?” Suddenly he looked interested.
“Yes! Because I’m the detective!” I threw my hands in the air. Then I asked, “So, who’s your detective? One of the crew? One of the women?”
Wolf stared at me, and I saw muscles tensing in his arms. “You have crazy in your eyes. You sure you’re not the stalker?”
“No!” I yelled. “I’m not!”
“If you are, I’ll stop you,” Wolf said. “Whenever you’re alone with Patrick, I’ll be there.”
“Good! I have nothing to hide!”
I started walking for the door, but I shared one last thought. “Oh, and by the way, you leave your ox in the ditch every time you look at Cookie. Don’t you tell me that string was your knitting unless you’re knitting her a thong!”
I slammed the cabana door on the way out.
Chapter Twenty-Two:
The Stiletto Army
Once I was back in the house, I threw my boot in a SturdyBag to preserve a little of the greasy stuff, and I went to our bedroom. Cookie was already in her bunk, with the pillow over her head. Andi was snoring. Then I noticed that Dawn’s bag was still there. I started rifling through it and found a little book, about diary sized, with a plastic, pink cover. Just enough light poured in from the hallway for me to read it and figure out if anyone bothered her before shoving her down the stairs.
I opened the pages and discovered more than I expected. The paper was purple, just like the paper used by Patrick’s semi-poetic stalker. The handwriting was the same. I held the diary to my nose and, while I didn’t share Harold’s keen sense of smell, I recognized eau de psycho. She had been doodling “I heart Patrick” in various sizes all over the pages.
Despite the whole stalker profile laid out in Dawn’s diary, I was suspicious. The diary was too perfect of a match. Not only did I smell perfume, but I also smelled a plant. Although Dawn and I shared the same room, I never saw her write in a diary. I never saw her write, period.
I heard Cookie roll over and mumble something about Popsicles and space flight, so I slid the pink book into my duffel bag and started looking for a T-shirt to sleep in. Then I heard a few footsteps and someone else’s breathing, and it didn’t sound like Tortoise or Hare.
Instead, I turned around and saw Topaz, standing in the middle of the doorway with her arms folded. “I got a bone to pick with you,” she said.
“You have a problem at one in the morning?” I asked. “Can we please set it aside for now? I mean, Dawn got hurt, and Cookie’s sleeping…”
She put her hands on her hips and braced herself. “I find it interesting that your closest competition is gone.”
“Are you accusing me of something? Shall we go get the cameras?” I was wondering why they weren’t with us. No one could stir up the drama like Topaz. I stood up and looked her in the eyes. “Bring on a stack of Bibles, Korans, Jews for Jesus pamphlets, what have you. I have nothing against anyone.”
“Why do I feel like I should watch my back around you, then?” Topaz asked. She paused. “I don’t think you’re the country-girl cupcake you say you are.” She stepped in front of me. I only came up to her nose, and she wasn’t even in heels at the moment. She smelled perfumed, but it was musky. She wasn’t sweating, but I realized I was. My hands had already formed claws, and I knew that, if I had to, I was going to aim for her most vulnerable part — the weave.
Attacking her would get me kicked out, though, and I couldn’t find a killer from outside the house. Not only that, but Topaz also made me nervous for another reason. She was on to me. She knew something about me wasn’t quite right. I was the faker in the house, and any move I made would set off alarm bells in her head.
“Leave me alone,” I said. “This isn’t your room.”
She stared at me, itching to fight.
“Fine, then. If you don’t get out, I’m going to talk to Greg,” I said.
“You do that,” she said. “It won’t help you. He’s kinda slow, but he doesn’t like you any more than I do.”
Before either of us threw a punch or grabbed a handful of hair, I walked around her and headed downstairs. Then I went to the patio, where I figured Greg was probably smoking. I doubted I could get him to believe me about the grease since he didn’t believe me before, but maybe he could help get Topaz off my back.
Sure enough, when I found Greg, he was stamping out the remains of a cigarette. He saw me coming and nodded. I looked down at the pack in his hand. It was generic. No wonder
he wanted a better job.
I said, “Topaz is bugging me and won’t let me sleep.”
He replied, “You’re not two kids in the back of a car on a road trip. Go sleep on the couch.”
I decided to try the showbiz approach. “Fine, but I think the whole me-versus-Topaz storyline is getting played out. She’s overdoing it, and I don’t want her bugging me off camera.”
“You’re going to get kicked off if we don’t have anything to work with.” He played with the hair on the back of his head, which was threatening to turn into a full-blown mullet if he didn’t get a trim soon. “Besides, a fight with Topaz would fit with the arc I already have in mind for you.”
“Can’t you rewrite the story or the arc or whatever?” I asked.
Greg stopped fidgeting. “Patrick didn’t like you so much, you wouldn’t be in my arc. You would be long gone. You’re boring. Even with your fire trick. Sorry.”
I didn’t like hearing that Greg didn’t find me worthy of television. But I did like hearing that Patrick wanted me around, and it was a valid topic of conversation. Maybe that’s what was pissing off the stalker. I asked, “Do you think Patrick likes me?”
Greg stared ahead. I could tell he really wanted another cigarette but was trying to make his pack last. “I don’t know. I don’t know what Patrick wants. Now, Wolf. I know what he wants. He’d kill his own mother for a show. Jesus — even with Kevin gone, he’s been all over me for camera time.” He stopped talking to me and started talking more to himself. “A Day in the Life of a Rock ‘n’ Roll Concierge. Sounds like some crap you’d see on a style channel.”
I begged to differ. I found the idea of Wolf wanting his own show so badly he’d kill anyone quite interesting. Maybe he’d pitched the show to Kevin and Kevin declined, which meant that Greg was in trouble now that he was producer.
“Can you produce his show?” I asked. “Are you officially the producer now?”
“Damn!” he yelled, so unexpectedly that I shuddered. “You know, most women pretend they like me before they try to sleep their way up! Just so you know, I’m booked. With Tina. Have you not noticed?”
I didn’t intend for him to take my question that way. “I’m here for Patrick! Not you!” I exclaimed. It wasn’t hard to be indignant. Going to bed with a bitter reality TV producer just to win a game show was not my style.
Greg looked at me. “Don’t get so upset. You’re all here for Patrick,” he said mockingly. “Besides, weren’t you Kevin’s girl?”
“What?” It hadn’t even occurred to me that someone might think that. I didn’t think I talked to Kevin that much. Kevin and I worked hard to pretend we hadn’t met before.
“I saw you go into that upstairs closet the day he died. I figured that’s why you stuck around, and then Patrick said he liked you, too. You’ve been busy.”
“Does everyone in the crew think that? I never, ever slept with Kevin.” I shook my head and added an “Ever” for good measure.
“Oh, don’t get all pissy about it. You wouldn’t be the first. He tapped two women last season.”
“I was just asking if you got to be a producer because you didn’t seem to like your job. Sorry for caring if you’re getting paid or getting promoted or whatever. I guess I’ll go back in and hang with all the other sluts, if that’s how you see us.”
His voice softened unexpectedly. “I’m sorry. And it’s not as if Tina actually likes me.” He looked down and pulled out another cigarette. He was right, and I briefly felt bad for him. The only way a guy like him could bed a woman like Tina was if he could help make her famous.
“Kevin was mad at me,” Greg continued. “I think he wanted a crack at Tina, too.”
The list of people with a motive to kill Kevin was growing longer. Tina might have wanted to accelerate matters and give Greg a promotion because he was easier to manipulate. As for Greg, he probably saw all the attention Kevin got and wanted a little of it, too.
I was about to ask Greg where Dawn fit in all of this, but he spoke up before I could. “I really wish Dawn hadn’t gotten hurt. She seemed like a good person. Kevin had her pegged for the final four, for the wholesome factor. Lorelai’s got that locked up now. Maybe you.” Then he looked at me hard, like I might have done something to establish a new final four.
“Dawn was my friend,” I said.
“Yeah, well, stuff changes when the camera rolls.” He looked at me again. “If you hurt Dawn, you’ll get caught.”
I stared back at him. I said, “Be careful who you accuse. No one here has more motive than you. With Kevin gone, you get your pick of the women.”
Greg turned pale, so I must have won that round. Before he could answer, Tina emerged. Jealousy flashed in her eyes. “What are you doing out here?” she asked me.
I shrugged. “Trying to get more camera time. Nothing you’re not familiar with.”
“You don’t deserve it,” she said. “Look, Greg, I want to do an interview. I have a lot to say about the other bitches in this house.” She pointed at me.
“It’s late,” he told her. “Can’t we do it later?” He was already whipped.
I raised my arm and presented Greg to her. “He’s all yours.” As I left, I turned to him and said, “Have fun being used.”
Tina bumped me as I walked past her. As a reflex, I raised my fist, but she laughed. “Whatcha gonna do about it, redneck? You hit me, you get tossed.”
“Is there anything against putting my foot in your face?” I asked.
Meanwhile, the cameras rushed out to catch some potential action. I heard Hare yell, “She’s having her breakdown! You owe me some money, yeah!”
I kept shouting at Tina. “I know better to punch you, but you better take some karate lessons if I ever see you after this show, understood?” I meant it.
I felt an arm around my waist and heard Cookie speaking into my ear. “She’s not worth it!” she said.
“Oh, sure she is!” I said. “This woman’s gonna make it to the top… on her back!”
I twisted around in Cookie’s grip and saw that my spat with Tina had awakened the whole house. Lorelai showed up in her lingerie, and Andi was wearing a T-shirt with a picture of Garfield enjoying lasagna. As for Topaz, she was busy holding Tina back.
Tina growled, “At least I have the looks for it!”
“You bought your looks at the surgeon’s office!” I screamed.
Topaz continued to play the Cookie role and held Tina’s waist tight. “It doesn’t matter, girl. Look forward. She’s got nothing on you. Now, let’s go.” Topaz dragged Tina away with an impressive show of strength.
“Snake,” Cookie grumbled, looking after Tina.
During all this, Lorelai snuck in and was now engaged in a deep conversation with Greg. I heard her ask, “Should we still be doing this?”
“This what?” Greg replied.
“This show,” Lorelai said. “With Kevin and Dawn? And everyone fighting?” She gestured toward me and Cookie. “I’ve done this before…” Greg groaned at yet another reference to her reality career “… and this isn’t normal.”
Greg looked defeated, as if he’d just been flattened by an army wearing stilettos. “Know what, Lorelai? It isn’t normal. In fact, I agree with you. I just asked the network if we can end the show. And they said no. They don’t care. You’re replaceable. I’m replaceable. Now go to bed.”
As Greg started to shamble away, Lorelai asked, “Do you want some warm milk?”
“Stop acting!” Greg shouted.
Lorelai shook her head. Once Greg was back in the house, I heard her mutter, “You are half the producer Kevin was.” Then she followed him inside.
Once everyone else was inside, Cookie finally let me go. I hugged her and thanked her. If it hadn’t been for her, I would have tried to take both Tina and Topaz on.
When we were going up the spiral staircase, I remembered the thong on the floor of Wolf’s cabana. “Cookie, can I ask you something?”
“What
?” she asked, not turning around.
“I know this is awkward, but… I think Wolf stole one of your thongs… I was in his cabana, and I swear I saw…”
“What?” At that point, she turned around. “You were in the cabana?”
“Well, he’s been trying to hit on you, and I wouldn’t put it above him to…”
Cookie had been heading up the stairs, but she whirled around. Her hair fanned out and slapped the banister. “That is a bitch move! I got up in the middle of the night, I just saved you from getting your ass kicked, and you’re accusing me of choosing Wolf over Patrick? What is wrong with you?”
“Cookie!” I took a step back on the stairs. “Don’t get mad! I’m not accusing you of anything. I wanted you to know he took your thong. You didn’t do anything. He did!”
She pressed her lips together so hard they almost vanished. At one point, she told me the game had changed, and I had a feeling the game was about to change again. “I don’t feel like talking to you anymore,” she said.
“Why are you so defensive? What’s wrong with Wolf having a crush on you? It’s not like you have to reciprocate,” I told her.
She started running up the stairs, and I followed. By the time I made it to our room, she had locked herself in the bathroom — the only place anyone in the house could get some privacy.
Chapter Twenty-Three:
Car Wash
An alarm went off. I must have had a grand total of three hours of sleep. When I woke up and stepped out of the bedroom, I bumped into a green duffel bag. Tortoise, Hare, and Greg were already waiting to catch my reaction. “Yes?” I asked, sleepily.
Greg said, “We’re going to film you getting everyone up.”
“Okay,” I said. “Any word about Dawn?”
Greg didn’t reply. I wasn’t entirely surprised since I was suspicious of him and he was suspicious of me. Instead, he looked at Tortoise, and Tortoise delivered the news. “She’s got two broken legs, some other stuff. Once they fix her up, she’s probably on the first flight back to Minnesota.”
I sat up and sighed with relief. “She’s alive,” I said. Then I looked at Greg. “I am so glad. I was worried.”
