by Valerie Clay
“Amen to that, sister.” She ripped off her jacket, revealing her tight fitting camo t-shirt, fluffed up her dark hair with her fingers, then took off like a shot.
“Victoria Morgan, you’re not going to go over there and make a fool of yourself with those cowboys are you?” Amanda asked, planting her hands on her hips.
“Why yes, Amanda, I believe I am. Excuse me please. Yee-haaa!” I tore off after Julie.
“Well, don’t stay too long, we have to strategize,” she shouted after me.
Julie reached the men first. “Well howdy, pardners!” she flashed them a brilliant smile. Two of them turned and smiled down at her.
“Howdy, ma’am,” they replied in unison.
“I’m Julie, and this is my friend, Vic,” she said as I came in fast and skidded to a stop.
“Well, I’m Bobby and this here is Dakota,” said the cute cowboy nearest to me as he tipped his hat.
“Hey, Bobby and Dakota,” I greeted them, beaming. “And that’s our friend, Amanda, over there with the crazy hair, karate uniform, and intense look of disapproval on her face.” I pointed to her. They waved at her and she gave them a pinched smile and a polite finger wave back.
“Hey, Vic, nice hat,” Bobby said.
“Well, thank ya kindly, Bobby. I like yours too.” He was a big ole cowpoke with a lazy grin and the broadest shoulders I had ever seen.
“What’re you ladies doing here? Going to a costume party?”
I looked around and put my finger to my lips, “No, don’t tell anyone, but Colonel Julie and I are private investigators on a secret mission. Code name Wolverine.
“Vic,” Julie said, “you’re not supposed to tell them that part. Hence the term code.
“Sorry, I’m new to this Black Ops stuff. Anyway, we’ve been tracking a subject all the way from Seattle. That’s why we’re dressed like this. These are our undercover clothes.” They looked us up and down and nodded.
“It’s more like a wild goose chase now, though,” Julie said. “We might as well throw in the towel. In a clever maneuver, our target outsmarted us and gave us the slip at the airport.”
“Well, how’d he do that to two hotshot detectives like you?” asked Bobby, grinning.
“He got into a limo,” I said.
Bobby bit his lip and Dakota shoved his hands into his back pockets and looked the other way.
“Admittedly, our tracking skills need a little work,” Julie conceded. “But enough about us,” she cooed as she lifted her face and smiled up at Dakota. “Tell us about you.”
Dakota responded with dancing blue eyes and a dimpled smile, “We’re here with the Professional Bull Rider’s Association havin’ ourselves a conference.”
“Really! Well how many of you bull riders are here tonight?” I wanted to know.
“There’re over eight-hundred cowboys with a Professional Bull Rider membership, but not all of us are here this week. Not sure how many are attendin,’ but we’ll find out more tomorrow,” Dakota said to me.
“Where’re y’all from? Texas?” Julie asked as she inched a tad closer to Dakota.
“Oh, no, ma’am,” Bobby replied, “we hail from every corner of the world—United States, Australia, Canada, and Brazil. These boys have grown up on ranches and in cities, but wherever they’re from, they’re all cowboys at heart.”
“How tall are you, Bobby?” I asked, lifting my face and gazing up at the big, tall drink of water.
“I’m six-foot-six, ma’am.”
“Must take one heck of a big bull to carry you.”
“Oh, I’m not a bull rider; I just watch out for the boys and manage events.”
Dakota turned to Julie and gave her an approving look, “You’re pretty cute for a Colonel.”
“Well, if you think I’m cute now, wait’ll you see me in a cocktail dress,” she blurted. Must have been the third Bloody Mary.
“Yeah, she’s killer in a cocktail dress!” I agreed.
Bobby gave me a slow easy grin. “I’ll bet you both look mighty fine.”
I returned his smile and felt the thrill of a sexual connection all the way down to the tips of my toes. “Well, hopefully after our mission’s accomplished, you’ll have a chance to find out. Will you be here tomorrow night?”
“Yep, we’ll be here for a couple of days,” Bobby said. “Right now we’re headed to a welcome reception. He nodded towards the lobby area. We’d be pleased to have you join us.”
I glanced over and caught Amanda giving us the evil eye. “Wish we could, Bobby, but we’ve got work to do. Come on, Julie, the fun’s over; let’s go. But, before we leave—we have a little dare going on. We dared Julie to get a kiss from one of you. She’s never been kissed by a real live cowboy before.”
“Well I can take care of that,” Dakota said. He put his muscular cowboy arms around her, lifted her off the ground like she was a feather and kissed her square on the mouth. Julie went limp. When he gently put her back down, she stood motionless, staring hypnotically at him like a baby deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming bus.
I grabbed her arm and pulled at her. “Come on, Colonel, time to reel it in.” I couldn’t believe I was the voice of reason this time.
Julie was speechless. A rarity for her. Numbly, her gaze lingered on Dakota as she slowly walked backwards.
“Bye, guys, hopefully we’ll see you tomorrow night,” I said as I waved goodbye. Julie smiled dreamily.
We returned to the table and took our seats between Amanda and Anthony. Julie settled back languidly against her chair. Her eyes filled with a misty, faraway look.
Anthony cleared his throat. “Excuse me, ladies, but I need to visit the men’s room. Will you be here when I return?” He asked, standing up, smoothing out his jacket.
“Absofriggenlutely,” I said as I took a giant gulp of my drink. Amanda glowered at me. Julie gave no response. From the glazed look in her eyes, it was obvious she was still off in la-la land.
“Well,” Amanda huffed after Anthony left, “I can see that I’m going to have to take charge here. Can you ladies pull it together, or do I need to remind you that Laini’s marriage is at stake?”
That was all it took. Guilted into attention, we turned to her.
“Sorry, Amanda. You’re right,” Julie said. She sat up straight and reached for the pen and paper she had begun taking notes on earlier. “Guess I got caught up in it all. Dakota was just so handsome, and tall, and sexy, and strong, and a really great kisser, and—”
“Julie!” Amanda cut in.
“Yes, Sir! Ma’am! Amanda! Sorry. I think I need some coffee.” She motioned to Destiny and ordered coffee for everyone.
Amanda narrowed her eyes and stared at us pointedly. “Now the first thing we need to do is find out if Mark is even in this hotel, and if Crystal is a person. How can we do that?” We tossed out several suggestions, all of them lame, as Destiny brought over a large thermal carafe of coffee with four over-sized, black ceramic mugs and set them down on the table in front of us. I filled the mugs with the steaming brew and passed them around as we continued to try and hash out some kind of workable action to take.
Looking about the room Amanda noticed a white courtesy phone on the wall. “I’ve got an idea. Why don’t we just call the room and see what happens?” She shoved a reluctant Carl back into his doggie carrier and set it securely on the chair next to her, then rose gracefully. After tightening her neon-floral karate belt, she patted down her ratty hair, then lifted her chin and strode confidently over to the phone. As she walked, her white flip-flops slapped noisily against the bottoms of her feet. Only Amanda could pull off a look like that. Julie and I looked at each other, shrugged our shoulders, and followed her across the room, ready for anything.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“If I’d observed all the rules, I’d have never gotten anywhere.” —Marilyn Monroe, American actress
*******
Picking up the phone, Amanda dialed zero, then said as sweet as pi
e, “Hello, I’m trying to reach my friends, Crystal and Mark, in room 2365, but I’m afraid they may have already checked out. Could you find out if they’re still there, and if so, could you connect me? What’s that? Oh, sorry, Mark’s last name is Nielson, but I’m not sure about Crystal’s. Thank you so much.” She put her hand over the phone and whispered excitedly, “She’s checking.”
“Mandy, you’re brilliant,” I whispered in return.
She glared daggers at me. “I told you never to call me that. Oh, oh, it’s ringing! What do I do now?” she said in a panic, covering the phone once again.
“Pretend you’re room service,” prompted Julie.
Biting her lower lip, Amanda twisted the white phone cord around her ruby red lacquered fingernails. After a couple of beats she took a deep breath and spoke respectfully into the phone, “Hello, ma’am I’m Daisy from House Keepin’ and I’m just callin’ to see if you’d like turn-down service tonight.”
Southern accent. Clever ruse. No doubt cowboy inspired.
“I see,” Amanda said. “I’m so sorry to have troubled you.” She frowned, hung up the phone and turned to us. “Well, she’s not a very nice person.”
Julie snorted. “Well, duh. She’s a home wrecker. What did she say?”
“She said she already told the maid service once that she didn’t want to be disturbed and to quit bothering her or she’d have my ass fired.”
“Wow, that is rude,” I agreed. What kind of woman had Mark gotten himself mixed up with? “Maybe she and Mark are in the middle of a fight.”
“Or sex,” Julie said, drifting off again.
“Or maybe he’s not even in this hotel,” I said. There’s only one thing we can do now. We just have to go up there, knock on their door, and see for ourselves.” I folded my arms across my chest.
Julie looked dubious. “We can’t just go up and knock on the door, Vic.” Apparently the cowboy reverie was finally wearing off.
“Why not?”
“Well for one thing, we don’t want Mark to know that we’re snooping on him. What if he’s somehow innocent and has a perfectly reasonable explanation? It could be devastating to their marriage.”
Frustrated, we returned to the table and sat down in silence contemplating our dilemma. The piano player was on a break, the room quiet except for the background casino noise and Carl’s scratching at the inside of his carrier. Amanda leaned over, unzipped the u-shaped flap, and set him free. After a joyful leap off the chair, the little dog trotted over to me, slipping and sliding on his cape, which had come loose and hung from his neck like a giant red bib. I twisted it back around, secured it, and scratched his soft little head as he drooled on my shoes.
Gazing absentmindedly across the room and out into the casino, I caught a glimpse of the stunning Marilyn Monroe impersonator sashaying by again. Hips swaying left and right, she took short, compact steps across the carpet, restricted by her long, sequined gown and stiletto heels. Heads turned as she passed by. Clearly, she relished the attention, enjoyed her power.
And then a thought struck me. “Amanda, how much cash do you have on you?”
“Excuse me?”
“Do you have fifty dollars? We could ask Marilyn Monroe over there to take a bottle of champagne up to the room—tell them it’s compliments of the house—an apology for disturbing them with the maid service call. I could give her my spy pen camera and she could take a picture of them.”
Julie’s face brightened. “That’s the best idea we’ve had so far. I’ll see if we can order a bottle of champagne here in the lounge. Think you can talk her into it?”
“Please—she’s a little cream puff—I’ll offer her fifty bucks. She’ll jump at the chance.”
Confidently, I hurried out of the lounge and looked around, but Marilyn had vanished. How could she have disappeared so quickly? She could only take baby steps in that tight gown for crying out loud. Exasperated, I wandered off in the general direction she’d been heading, when I noticed a shiny, red sequin on the floor. A few steps further and I spotted another. That’s it! I’ll follow the trail of sequins that popped off her form-fitting dress like Hansel and Gretel’s breadcrumbs. I had to admit I was getting pretty good at this detective stuff. It’s possible I’m a natural.
Rounding a corner I discovered the sexy impersonator smiling and posing for a group of tourists. Head tossed back and arms crossed over her ample cleavage, she was the spitting image of Marilyn Monroe. After signing a few autographs, she left the group and I caught up with her. “Excuse me, Marilyn?”
She stopped, turned around, and gave me the once-over. “Nice suit.”
“Thanks. Should I call you Marilyn?” I asked.
“Yes,” she responded breathily, “I have another performance in a little while and it’s important for me to stay in character.”
“My name is Victoria Morgan, and I was wondering if I could ask a favor of you,” I ventured. “It would just take a few moments and I would pay you of course.”
“I’m an actress, not a hooker,” she said in a sweet, but firm voice as she resumed her sensual strut, leading with her chest through the maze of noisy slot machines.
“No, not that kind of favor,” I explained, keeping up. “We have friends who are staying in the hotel and we thought it would be great fun if you could go up to their room and present them with a bottle of champagne. Take their picture, have a laugh, you know?”
“Sorry, I’m not a delivery girl either. As I stated earlier, I’m a serious actress.”
“We would pay you fifty dollars for five minute’s work.”
“Not a delivery girl,” she reiterated as she smiled and waved at three long-haired bikers at a roulette table.
“How about a hundred?” I persisted.
“Did I mention I’m not a delivery girl? Now if you’ll please excuse me, I’m trying to find the powder room.” She forged on a few more steps but got sidelined once again, this time by a group of well-dressed Japanese businessmen who began rapidly snapping photos of her.
“Excuse please, could you ask bodyguard move out of way, so we take picture?” the tallest of the group asked in broken English pointing at me with his thumb.
Bodyguard? I felt my left eye start to twitch. I used to be cute. Crossing my arms and sulking, I stepped aside, waiting for the photographic frenzy to end. Finally, when Marilyn was free and on the move again, I gave it one last, valiant try, but she shot me down before I could finish my appeal.
Defeated, I said to her, “Okay, I give up. I’m sorry to have bothered you. It’s just that we think this guy is cheating on his wife, a good friend of ours, and we were trying to catch him in the act.”
She stopped in her tracks and turned to me, “Well why didn’t you say so in the first place? I’d be happy to help you catch a no-good, dirty, cheating rat. My fee is two-hundred dollars, in cash, in advance.”
“Two-hundred dollars?” I asked incredulously.
“My minimum rate for private engagements is two-fifty, but I’m giving you a special discount on account of your tragic situation.” She tossed her head and fluffed up her platinum hair with a gloved hand.
“Yes, but you see, this would only be for fifteen minutes.” I gave her my most endearing smile.
“You need me to gain entrance to their room and get a picture of the cheaters. I can deliver the goods. Take it or leave it.”
Jeez, for such a fragile little thing, she drove a hard bargain.
“Done,” I said.
Another group of tourists caught sight of Marilyn and hustled towards us, shouting and pointing. She grabbed me by my lapels and yanked me towards her. “Please! You gotta help me. If I don’t tinkle soon my bladder’s gonna burst.”
“No problem.” I held up my hand to the group, lowered my voice, and did my best bodyguard imitation, “Sorry, coming through. Give the lady some space.” Running interference, I pushed my way through the gambling hoards while Marilyn scooted closely behind until we were safely
inside the ladies room. I opened a stall door for her and she slipped inside and locked it.
“You’re a real pal,” she called out from the other side of the heavy door.
“We’ll meet you on the twenty-third floor by the elevators in fifteen minutes, okay?” I shouted back. “Thanks, Marilyn. You’re the best! Loved you in Bus Stop. Oops.”
“Don’t worry, I get that all the time,” she said. “Actually, I’d like to think that I channel her, you know? Have you ever had the feeling that someone else has taken over your body? That they’ve taken control of your every thought and action?”
“Yeah, been there, but then I got divorced.”
She giggled. Marilyn Monroe giggled at my joke. Life was good.
Jubilant over my newfound powers of persuasion and haggling success, I hot-footed it back to the lounge. Anthony was nowhere to be seen, but Julie and Amanda were still at the table, heads together conspiratorially.
“Well it’s about time,” Julie said as I sat down. “Where have you been? We were about to send out an all-points bulletin for you.” A bottle of champagne stuck out of her open bag.
I gave them a triumphant smile. “You’ll be pleased to know that I recruited Marilyn Monroe to join our team. Only cost us two-hundred dollars.”
“Two-hundred dollars! I thought we decided on fifty,” Amanda said as she picked up her teal blue Coach bag and pulled out her matching wallet. “I don’t think I have that much cash with me.”
“No problem, I saw an ATM machine when I was out tracking Marilyn. What can I say; she’s a tough little negotiator. But the good news is she’s agreed to do it, and I think she’s a pro. I showed her my spy pen camera and she already knew how to operate it. She even gave me a few pointers. She’s meeting us upstairs in ten minutes, so we need to move fast. This hotel is about a hundred miles long and we still have to get some money.”
“Julie’s going with you, but I need to stay here,” Amanda explained, returning her wallet to her purse. “Anthony was kind enough to take Carl for a walk, and Julie and I thought it might be a good idea to keep this operation a secret, in case something goes wrong. We don’t want to get Anthony into any trouble. He’s such a dear. I’ll wait here for him to bring back Carl, and tell him that you and Julie went off to play the slots. Just hurry.”
