by Susan Kandel
“Let me introduce you around,” Chastity said. “This is Mystery.”
Mystery, clad in a pair of jeans and a tank top, was removing layers of cover-up from a tattoo on her arm. “Hi.” She flashed a gorgeous smile.
“And Destiny.” Destiny had on a silver lamé romper with a cutout revealing an appendectomy scar. She, too, had perfect teeth.
Sitting next to her was an errant farmer’s daughter with penciled-on freckles, a straw hat, and cut-off jeans.
“Meet Strawberry,” Chastity said. “She’s a professional dog trainer who did wonders with my baby.” She gave her Chihuahua a sloppy kiss on the lips. “Everyone, I’d like you to meet Gloria’s big sister, Anita Colby.”
My life was getting stranger by the minute.
“Hi, all,” I said.
“You look exactly like your sister,” said Strawberry, “except for the hair.”
“Blondes will be extinct by 2202,” said Destiny.
“Oh, no,” said Strawberry. “Why?”
“Because blond hair is caused by a recessive gene, which means two recessives have to do it to make a blonde. And there simply aren’t enough of us.”
Chastity rolled her eyes. “That’s it for the chitchat. We have work to do, right, girls? I’ll just get your stuff.”
I nodded. My stuff. “Okay. That would be great.”
Chastity disappeared into a back office.
“That Prince Charles is a pig.” Destiny slammed her locker closed.
“I know,” said Strawberry. “I got him to stop peeing in her roses, but he still goes on the couch. And she doesn’t seem to care.”
“What was that?” Chastity had reappeared with a small brown cardboard box in her hands.
“Nothing,” said Strawberry. She looked terrified. Destiny and Mystery were staring at a spot on the floor.
“That’s what I thought.” Chastity handed me the box. It was wrapped all the way around with packing tape. Looked like somebody had used a whole roll.
“Thanks,” I said.
“We’re going to miss Gloria.” Chastity didn’t look like she’d ever missed anyone or anything.
“She enjoyed working with you,” I said.
“Obviously,” she replied breezily. “Anyway, tell her she’s welcome back anytime. She always made her minimum.”
“Did Gloria happen to leave you a number where she could be reached?” I asked.
Mystery and Destiny exchanged glances. Chastity turned the laser on me again. “Shouldn’t you have her number?”
“I should, you’re absolutely right,” I said with a nervous laugh. “But I was on my honeymoon, now I’m traveling for work. My sister and I haven’t talked in a couple of weeks.”
Chastity reached over and snatched the box out of my hands, “I forgot to ask you for ID.” Her voice was all gravel now.
I reached into my purse and pulled out Anita’s driver’s license. “Here you go.” But I knew she wasn’t going to be as easy a sell as Roy. There was no way a seasoned flesh-peddler like Chastity was going to mistake me for a thirty-year-old.
She set down the box. I thought about crying fire again, but even if I managed to get the box away from her, I’d never make it past the goons at the front door.
Chastity stared at the driver’s license, then up at me. “Wait here for a second. Girls, keep an eye on her.” She took the box and disappeared into the office again. She was probably calling the police. The real police, I mean, not Officer Naughty.
Destiny stuck her finger in a pot of Vaseline and smeared it on her teeth. “I’m not security, for God’s sake. If you try to leave, I’m not stopping you. Besides, I’m on next. I don’t want to get frazzled.”
“Remember last time,” warned Mystery.
Destiny frowned. “That was your fault.”
“Easy, now,” said Strawberry, in the soothing tones you’d use with a pit bull.
All of a sudden Chastity was back and handing me the box. “Sorry, but we’ve got to kick you out now. I have to collect from a couple of these girls and then take care of a few things downstairs.”
That was it? She had to have realized I wasn’t Anita. So why had she given me back the box?
Then I noticed the tape.
It was no longer smooth.
It had been pulled off and stuck back on.
Chastity had taken something out.
Or put something else inside.
Chapter 30
I walked back down the stairs. The woman on stage was peeling off a skin-tight red suit that looked a lot like mine. ZZ Top was roaming the floor like a desperado.
It was definitely time to go.
I was pushing my way through the crowd when somebody grabbed me by the waist and pulled me down onto his lap.
“Let go of me!” I protested. But nobody could hear me over the music.
“It’s just you and me, gorgeous,” the man whispered into my ear.
“I said get your hands off me!”
“Why? My money’s as good as anybody’s. You got a problem with it? Maybe you need somebody to set you straight.” He wrapped his arm tighter around me, pressing down hard on my rib cage.
“That isn’t what I meant,” I gasped. “It has nothing to do with you. It’s me. I don’t belong here.”
“What makes you so special?”
“I’m not—”
“That’s enough,” said a voice.
I looked up.
Chastity had taken off the crown, but she could still command armies. The man released me instantly.
“There’s obviously been a bit of confusion,” Chastity said. “This young lady is not an employee. But I’d like you to meet Strawberry.”
Strawberry tipped her hat. Prince Charles gave a low growl.
“Quiet!” Chastity said. Prince Charles buried his head in the crook of her arm. Then she turned to the man. “Strawberry here can take you somewhere a little more private and buy you a drink, if you’d like. That’ll be our way of apologizing.” She turned to me, and there was no mistaking her message. “Goodnight, Anita.”
“You Can Keep Your Hat On” was playing as I walked through the door.
My car was parked at the far end of the lot. The rain had stopped, but the ground was still wet. I walked as fast as I could without slipping, hugging the box to my chest. Then I heard steps behind me.
It was him.
I picked up the pace, clasping my car key between my two middle fingers so I’d be ready to plunge it between his eyes if I needed to.
“Wait!”
A woman’s voice.
I turned around.
Mystery stood in front of me. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
I could see her tattoo now, a bunch of terrified little yellow chicks running from a bloody cleaver, with the words “Meat is Murder” inscribed on the blade.
She followed my gaze. “I used to be a vegan.”
“What do you want?” I asked.
“I need to talk to you.”
She opened her hand. A rubber band circling her fingers held a wad of bills. She counted out forty of them.
“Sorry they’re all ones.” She handed them to me. “That’s how they tip you at Hello Kitty. You get fives at the Teaser Pleaser, but not everybody makes it to the big time.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Gloria loaned it to me. I would’ve given it to you in the club, but Chastity has this thing about money. Thinks everybody’s trying to rip her off. Didn’t you notice the cameras? She watches the whole night’s footage when she goes home. I don’t think she ever sleeps. Anyway, would you give this to your sister when you see her next?”
I pushed the money back at her. “I don’t know when that’s going to be. Look, I just want to get out of here. Please.”
Mystery nodded. “You don’t trust me. Why should you? You’ve gone to hell and back. I know what you’ve been through.”
“How would you have any idea what I’ve be
en through?” I could still feel the man’s hands on me.
“Gloria talked about you a lot.”
“She did?”
Mystery nodded. “Yeah. Her big sister and all.”
I’d always wanted a sister. “What did she say?”
Mystery leaned against the hood of a parked car. “Oh, I don’t know. How you were always there for her. How you’d had this piece of shit life and never believed anything good was going to come your way. And all of a sudden you were getting the wedding you’d always dreamed of, and a real honeymoon, and this great guy who thought you were the sun and moon and stars combined. She was afraid you might mess it up.”
“I’m not going to mess it up,” I snapped. “And if I do, it’ll be because I want to.” Then I bit my lip.
“Don’t get angry,” she said softly. “That’s not what she meant. Gloria’s just worried about you. She told me you haven’t been alone since you were a kid. That you pick bad men. That you sell yourself cheap.”
I leaned against the car alongside Mystery. “I’ve changed.”
“Sounds like it. And I admire what you’re doing. Sounds like a lot of people got hurt. But it must feel good not to be a victim anymore. To be in charge of your own life. Finally.”
I didn’t understand. I needed more information. “You and Gloria must’ve spent a lot of time together.”
“Yeah, we did. We trusted each other. We told each other everything.” Mystery looked both ways, then lowered her voice. “She even told me about your name.” She hesitated a second. “How you had to change it. How it’s not really Anita.”
She and I locked eyes. “What is my real name?”
Mystery’s voice fell to a whisper. “Cece.”
I stood up so fast the box fell to the ground. Mystery bent down and picked it up for me.
“I have to go,” I said. “Right now.”
“Are you okay?”
“Fine.” I took a deep breath. “I’m just tired.” But I didn’t need sleep. Just the opposite. This was a nightmare and I needed to wake up.
“Take the money,” Mystery said one last time.
I shook my head. “Gloria told me to tell you to keep it. And to give you some advice.”
She looked at me hungrily. “What?”
“To change your life while you can. To start over.”
If only Anita had had a chance to do the same.
Chapter 31
The box was lighter than air. Was it empty? Or full of secrets?
I didn’t want to be alone when I found out.
I sped down Buck Owens, looking for signs of life. Anything but Denny’s. Here was something. Zingo’s. Open twenty-four hours a day. Famous for their cinnamon rolls. I chose a booth in the back and sat facing the door, like a mob enforcer.
No more surprises.
The menu was not exactly heart-healthy: chicken fingers, chicken-fried steak, zucchini sticks, batter-dipped onion rings. On the back cover was a picture of the famous cinnamon rolls, which resembled the ziggurat Richard Dreyfus builds in Close Encounters of the Third Kind.
I tried to catch the waitress’s eye, but she was behind the counter chatting with the cook. Fine. I guess I wasn’t all that hungry. That trail mix eight hours ago really filled me up.
I turned back to the box. Heart pounding, I grabbed the knife and slit it open, then peered inside.
There was a single piece of paper there, crumpled into a ball. Maybe this was Chastity’s idea of a joke. I pulled it out and flattened it with my hand, but the ends kept curling up, so I used the salt and pepper shakers as paperweights.
“Ahem.”
I looked up, startled.
“You ready?” The waitress dropped a glass of water onto the table.
“Yup.”
“You’re not from around here, are you?”
“How could you tell, Betty?” Her name was sewn onto her pink uniform in purple thread.
She clicked open her pen. “Your bloomers.”
“They’re harem pants,” I said.
“You work for the circus?”
“Is that a rhetorical question?”
“Listen, hon, why don’t I take your order? We’re real busy tonight.”
There were five people total in Zingo’s, and Betty and the cook were two of them. I ordered a Monte Cristo and a glass of milk. When in Rome.
Once she was gone, I studied the piece of paper.
It was a list of names and phone numbers. I counted. Nineteen. Men and women. There were small red checks next to all of them.
Blackmail.
It seemed like the obvious explanation.
But was Anita the perpetrator, or one of the victims?
None of the area codes were familiar except one. 661. That was somewhere around here.
Unfortunately, I’d lost my hot pink cell phone, somebody had stolen the other one, and a Hummer had run over my BlackBerry. I slid out of the booth, found a pay phone by the bathroom, and dropped in some change.
A man picked up on the second ring. He sounded old and tired. I glanced at my watch. It was almost ten. I’d probably woken him up.
“Sorry to disturb you,” I said, “but I’m looking for”—I checked the list again—“Dorothy Johnson.”
“She don’t live here no more.”
Damn it. “Do you know how I can reach her?”
“Sure, but I can’t give her phone number out to a stranger, not after everything she’s been through.”
So she was another one.
Just like Anita.
“I understand. That puts me in a bit of a bind, though. I’m an attorney here in Bakersfield, and we’ve been trying to track Ms. Johnson down for some time. It’s nothing bad, don’t get me wrong. Ms. Johnson has come into some money, and we need to get it to her.”
The moment the words came out of my mouth, I regretted them. Now I was going to be another thing Dorothy Johnson had to get through.
“Well, that is good news,” the man said.
“Good news? It’s great news! When Dorothy hears what I have to say, she’s going to be jumping up and down!”
He was quiet. One more push would do it.
“No one would want to miss an opportunity like this,” I said. “At least no one in their right mind.”
The old man’s chair scraped against the floor. “Dorothy could sure use a break.”
I was going straight to hell.
A minute later, I dropped some more coins into the slot. This time a woman answered.
“Dorothy Johnson?”
“She’s not here. This is her daughter. Can I help you?”
“I’d rather speak to her directly. Do you know when she’ll be home?”
“Not until tomorrow. Give me your number and I’ll have her call you then.”
“I’m going to be hard to reach. When tomorrow?”
I heard ice clinking in a glass. “Who is this?”
“I’m an attorney. It’s about some money she inherited.”
“Nobody we know has any money.” Dorothy’s daughter wanted to be convinced otherwise.
“It’s someone your mother worked with a while back. She may not even remember her. I can’t say much more. When tomorrow will she be home exactly?”
“Late.”
“Can I catch her someplace during the day?”
“Don’t take no for an answer, do you?”
“Never lost a case.”
“Fine. She’ll be at work tomorrow. In Wasco, near the 155.”
I jotted down the address and took my seat just as Betty arrived with my sandwich and glass of milk, which radiated a strange kind of blue-green light. But maybe that was the fluorescent light here at Zingo’s.
Hitchcock concealed a light in the glass of poisoned milk Johnny (Cary Grant) brings to Lina (Joan Fontaine) in Suspicion. The eerie glow was meant to underscore the menace the handsome ne’er-do-well poses to his rich and very naive wife. Unfortunately, the effect was undermined when the head
of RKO insisted on tacking on a happy ending. He was convinced nobody would believe Cary Grant a murderer. But Hitch knew he could make anybody believe anything.
There’s nothing more seductive than the impossible projected in Technicolor.
“What’s the matter?” asked Betty. “You wanted nonfat?”
I peered into the glass, then sucked down the milk.
It was ice-cold and delicious.
As for the Monte Cristo, it was like what the divine Cary Grant said about working with the egomaniacal Joan Fontaine.
Never again.
Chapter 32
Room 10 was like a cave, warm and dark. I’d been planning to sleep until spring, but was startled awake by the sound of a key turning in the lock.
I jumped up, gathered the sheets around my naked body, and was fleeing for the nearest closet when a small gray-haired woman appeared in the doorway pushing a cart piled high with sheets and towels.
The new day was filled with surprises of both the pleasant and unpleasant variety.
Maid service at the E-Z Nights, to begin with.
Followed by cinnamon rolls at Zingo’s, which were moist and flaky at the same time.
The sun was shining brightly, another happy surprise. After breakfast I went back to the room and changed into my version of lawyerly attire, which consisted of a black silk shantung suit, matching faux fur stole, and large gold envelope clutch. My blond hair, however, undermined the general effect, so I tucked it into a military-inspired beret.
Wasco was thirty-five miles away. I threw my bag into the car and took off.
It was Sunday. Everybody must’ve been in church because there was nobody around. Even better. I took off my dark glasses and sped with impunity.
Within twenty minutes, I was in the middle of nowhere. Golden fields of rural nothingness, stretching as far as the eye could see. The occasional tumbleweed, drifting in the wind. A blackbird. A corn maze. Some of these are incredible. If you see them from above, they make patterns, like a map of the United States or a butterfly in its larval stage. But this one was closed for the season.
I put down the window and took a breath of fresh air. That was when the chugging began.
One minute you’re driving along, minding your own business, taking in the sights. The next minute, your Camry is making odd noises and refusing to accelerate before churning up a cloud of dust and rolling to a dead stop.
