by Beth Yarnall
“What should we do?” he asked.
“I don’t know.” A knot of sickness lay heavily in my stomach, turning the whiskey sour. “I’ve been asking myself that question since I saw her handcuffed and perp-walked out of the Raine Tower Suites.” I set my glass back down. “I guess we have to try to help her. What else can we do?”
“Okay. What’s our first move?”
Richard looked at me with so much expectation, it nearly tore me open. I dropped my gaze to the ostentatious hotel carpeting, trying to summon a droplet of the courage he expected from me.
“The Hjálmar booth. And then we’ll see if we can’t spring Viv from the Big House.”
Richard and I shot Juan Carlos a startled glance. Either he’d been faking sleep or our conversation had woken him up. He looked focused and ready for action, not at all like the wreck he’d been earlier.
“What did you hear?” I asked him.
“Almost all of it. Vivian needs our help and we’re going to give it to her.” Juan Carlos swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up. He weaved a little and grabbed his head.
“Easy.” Richard rushed to his side. “Here, have some water. And we should probably get some food in you.” He looked to me.
“Right. Okay. We’ll grab some food, then head down to the convention center. But first we need to call James.” The thought of calling Vivian’s boyfriend gave me some measure of courage and purpose.
“Oh, I forgot all about James. That’s a good idea. He has that hot friend who’s a cop. Call him—he’ll know what to do.”
I shot back the rest of my whiskey, my cheeks burning as badly as my stomach lining.
The hot cop Juan Carlos was talking about was Alex Craig. We’d met at Vivian and James’s New Year’s party. He’d asked me out. We went on a couple of dates and had hit it off…or so I’d thought. He said he’d call and then had somehow lost all knowledge of how to use a phone. He was the reason I’d sworn off men and had been binge-buying Laura Ashley dresses.
As much as I hated to admit it, he was probably Vivian’s best chance. Still, the idea of my having to deal with this particular police officer was right up there with having a root canal or a gynecological exam by a doctor with unusually large hands.
Chapter Six
Twenty minutes later, we were cruising toward the convention center in the back of a taxi. Juan Carlos was shoving fries in his mouth like a competitive eater in the final seconds of competition as I wrapped up my phone call with James. It had not gone well. I’d delivered the news badly and he’d taken it even worse. I was pretty sure the worry cracking his voice would haunt me in the wee small hours of the morning.
“When does James arrive?” Juan Carlos asked around a mouthful of fries.
“He should be here sometime after midnight depending on the flights coming out of Orange County. He said he’d call when he landed.”
“That’s good.”
Juan Carlos tipped the fry cup into his mouth, gulping down the last of them as we pulled up in front of the convention center. Richard paid the fare and we all traipsed into the chaotic entry hall.
“That was fast.” Richard pointed to a larger-than-life poster of Dhane draped with an RIP banner.
“How would you…where would you…how could they…?” Juan Carlos expressed our puzzlement perfectly.
“Come on.” I gripped his sleeve and pulled him toward the main convention floor before he stuttered himself into the ground.
The Hjálmar booth was packed with gawkers and groupies all trying to be a part of the tragedy. A life-size Dhane cutout had been turned into a makeshift memorial layered with flowers, stuffed animals, and notes. I overheard a woman offering a rather large sum of money for one of the display posters of Dhane. I didn’t want to think about what she was going to do with it.
“Now what?” Richard asked.
“Follow me.” Juan Carlos plunged into the crowd.
I tagged along behind Richard who, because of his size, made a handy crowd-parter.
Juan Carlos had snagged a spot at the counter and was waving down a very overwhelmed-looking young Hjálmar employee when we caught up to him. “Mateo!”
The boy spotted him and came over. “Dude.” They exchanged a series of complicated hand bumps ending in a half hug and hearty back slaps across the counter.
“Can you take a break?” Juan Carlos asked Mateo.
Mateo took a quick look over both of his shoulders, then nodded. “Yeah. I gotta get out of here. Meet me at the bar in five.” They executed another set of hand gestures and then Juan Carlos led us out of the throng.
“Holy hangers-on. Those people are crazy-pants. If ever I get so knocked over by a celebrity that I start acting that way, feel free to slap me,” Juan Carlos said.
Richard slung an arm over Juan Carlos’s shoulders. “You won’t. But I will.” Then he hugged Juan Carlos to him.
I nearly tripped over my own feet. This shift in their relationship was weirder than weird. Ever since we’d come to Vegas, nothing was the same. Vivian had suddenly become secretive and distant, Juan Carlos and Richard were getting along, and then there was Dhane. His invitation to meet him, his death, Vivian’s arrest…none of it seemed real, and yet knowing it was, going through it, didn’t make it any easier to absorb.
I got so caught up in my thoughts I nearly missed it. A flap of dark fabric, the sharp spikes of hair, and those odd, unnerving eyes.
Jun.
I told the guys I’d catch up with them, then veered off. Getting a glimpse of Jun as he rounded a corner, I picked up my pace, scuttling after him. I turned where he’d turned only to come to a screeching halt. The corridor was packed with people wearing head-to-toe anime. Everywhere I looked there were rainbow-hued spikes, pigtails, and puffs from florescent to pastel. How was I ever going to find him?
I excused my way through the swarm, searching for the odd boy whose appearance in my life had begun this tsunami of strange events.
“Azalea?”
I turned to find Jun standing before me with his glaring smile and Kewpie doll eyes.
“Are you attending the anime and manga hairstyling workshop, too?” His gaze roamed over my ordinary outfit, making me feel like the only one who hadn’t dressed up for the Halloween party.
“No. I was looking for you.”
“Me?” His grin widened in surprise and I was struck anew by his childlike charm, making me want to reach out and touch the side of his sweet face. He reminded me of my nephew who also liked to play dress up. Only my nephew preferred to dress like a soldier or firefighter and not an extra from The Matrix.
I mentally shook some sense into myself. I was not here to befriend this boy but to grill him for information. “I need to talk to you.”
“Okay. Sure.” He continued to smile at me like a puppy waiting for a treat.
A set of doors off to one side opened and the caricatures began filing through it. Jun didn’t appear to notice, staring down at me like I was about to give him a present.
“Is there somewhere more private we can speak?”
He bounced his head. “I know a place. C’mon.”
He turned back the way we’d come. I trailed after him, mentally rehearsing the questions I wanted to ask. He veered off down another hallway and ducked into an empty classroom. The door closed behind us with a quiet snick.
The room was so still and cold that I had to cross my arms over my chest and try to rub some warmth into them. Jun turned to me, his face full of expectation. I couldn’t fail Viv. If I was going to help her, I needed to know everything Jun knew.
Eyeing Jun, I looked for something sinister inside him, wondering if he might know the person or persons who killed Dhane. With his honest, eager face, the kid was about as evil as a basket of kittens under a rainbow. I took a deep breath and dived in. “How did you find me to give me that note?”
“Easy. I followed you.”
I opened my mouth, then closed it. He’d followe
d me? I didn’t remember seeing him before he’d sat down next to me in that workshop room. “Why did you give me the note?”
He tipped his head to the side like a dog searching for the source of a sound. “It was for you.”
I could tell I was going about this all wrong, so I tried another tack. “How do you know Dhane?”
“Hjálmar Dhane?”
“Yes. Hjálmar Dhane.”
“I don’t.”
I huffed out an exasperated breath. This guy was as clever and stealth as a kindergartener. “Who gave you the note to give to me?”
“Sora.”
“Who’s Sora?”
He did that tilty-head thing again. “The one who gave me the invitation to give to you.”
I would have screamed if I didn’t think it might scare him. “Okay. Let’s try this another way. Tell me exactly where you were when Sora gave you the note for me.”
“We were with Trinity and Ace.”
“Yes, but where were you?”
“Oh, right. Sorry. We were standing with Tenchi on the main floor near the Hjálmar booth.”
“Thank you.”
He grinned, obviously happy to have pleased me. “You’re welcome.”
“What did Sora say when she gave you the note to give to me?”
“Nothing.”
“What do you mean nothing?”
“She didn’t say anything. She just handed it to me.”
“Then how did you know to give it to me?”
“Tenchi told me to give it to you, then he handed it to Sora and she handed it to me.”
We were finally getting somewhere.
“Who is Tenchi? And what did he say when he gave you the note?”
Jun’s smile dimmed and a quizzical line appeared between his brows. “Why are you asking me these questions? Is something wrong?”
He obviously hadn’t heard about Dhane. My stomach sank. I felt like the mean big sister telling her kid brother there was no Santa Claus. “Dhane’s dead.”
“Hjálmar Dhane?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, no.” Jun blinked back tears. “Why? What does this have to do with me?”
“That’s what I’m trying to find out. The invitation you gave me was supposedly from Dhane. I need to know who it came from and why.”
“I didn’t know it was from Dhane. Promise.”
“I believe you.”
“Wow, Dhane’s dead. That sucks. His poor sister.”
My ears perked up. “His sister? What sister?”
“Trinity.” Jun snapped his fingers. “I get it.”
“What?”
“Trinity.”
“What about her?”
“It was her. She was with Tenchi when Sora, Ace, and I met up with them at the Hjálmar counter.”
“Uh-huh.” My head started to hurt. I needed a translator and a scorecard to help me keep track of what Jun was trying to tell me.
“Don’t you see?” he asked.
“See what?”
“Trinity.”
“Jun, I really need you to focus here. What are you trying to tell me about Trinity? And where can I find Dhane’s sister?”
“Trinity.”
“Jun,” I warned. “Stop saying Trinity and answer my questions.”
“That’s what I’m doing.”
My exasperation got the better of me. “Stop talking in circles!”
His face bunched up like he was about to cry.
Aww, jeez. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”
“That’s okay I guess.” He plopped down into a chair and stared at the floor.
I sat next to him and rubbed my temples with jerky hands. “Let’s back up a little. Who is Trinity?”
“I told you. Trinity is Dhane’s sister. She’s the one who wanted to meet you.”
Chapter Seven
I dragged Jun with me to the bar to meet up with Juan Carlos and Richard. I had a strong feeling he was going to be important and I would need him and his circular logic to help Vivian. I also needed him to find Dhane’s sister, Trinity, whom I was certain had information that would help me figure out what had happened to Dhane.
Juan Carlos’s Hjálmar friend, Mateo, was already sitting in a booth with Richard and Juan Carlos when Jun and I got there.
“Azalea, where have you been?” Juan Carlos’s irritated glare moved from me to Jun standing over my left shoulder. “Holy Comic-Con!” He waggled a finger at Jun. “Who’s your little friend, Zee?”
I made introductions all around, taking special note of Richard’s irritation at Juan Carlos’s interest in Jun.
Juan Carlos scooted over and patted the booth seat next to him. “Come sit next to me, Jun.”
“Thank you.” Like the eager-to-please puppy he was, Jun plopped down next to Juan Carlos, oblivious of Richard’s glowering.
I slid in next to Jun just as the waitress strolled up and asked for our drink order. Everyone ordered a cocktail except Jun.
“Cherry Coke, please.”
“Cherry Coke? No, no, no. He’ll have a Singapore Sling,” Juan Carlos informed her.
The waitress propped her tray on her hip and asked Jun, “Can I see some ID?”
Jun blushed and ducked his head. “I just want a Cherry Coke, please.”
The waitress looked to Juan Carlos.
Juan Carlos shrugged. “Cherry Coke.”
The waitress pivoted and headed off to place our drink order at the bar.
Juan Carlos turned to Jun. “No fake ID?”
Jun shook his head.
“That’s cool. Love your hair. Who cuts it?”
“I’m sure Mateo has better things to do than watch you strike out with an underage cartoon character,” Richard interrupted.
Juan Carlos turned on Richard, but I cut him off before they could have an all-out brawl. “Mateo, what have you been hearing about Dhane’s death?”
“That’s all everybody’s talking about. I’ve heard lots of stories.” He tossed his head, flipping his long black hair over one shoulder. “There’s the one where he gets jumped in the elevator of his hotel. There’s one about it being a mob hit. And then there’s my favorite one. Hookers and blow.” Mateo bobbed his thick black brows, his too-pretty-to-be-a-boy’s mouth curving into a naughty smile. “You know, like an erotic -asphyxiation thing.”
Ewww.
“Then how do you explain his…and its being…?” Juan Carlos stammered.
Richard stepped in before Juan Carlos hurt himself. “He’s asking how any of that could be true, since he was decapitated.”
The image of Dhane’s head lying on the carpet, his beautiful hair fanning out around it, popped into my head. I shivered uncontrollably. Then I thought about Vivian being accused of doing that to him and I just couldn’t imagine it. Not my Vivian.
“Yeah, they didn’t really talk about that part. I mean they did, but just not the details of it. You know?” Mateo said.
We all nodded.
Mateo’s statement got me thinking. How would a person go about decapitating someone? What kind of person would do such a thing?
“What…what did it look like?”
We all turned toward Jun, surprised by his question. Then Juan Carlos, Richard, and I exchanged glances. Having firsthand knowledge of the experience put us in a club no one would willingly join. I didn’t have the words to describe it for him and even if I did, I wouldn’t want to be the one to put such an image in his innocent little head.
“Bad,” Richard answered. “I won’t ever forget it,” he finished quietly.
The silence hung heavily over us, weighing down all our moods. Someone sighed.
“Vodka Collins?” the waitress asked, disrupting our thoughts.
Mateo put up his hand. The last to get his drink was Jun.
“And a Cherry Coke for the young master.” She sat down a tall glass with a purple straw and three maraschino cherries in front of Jun.
His face lit up l
ike a child’s on Christmas morning.
“How would a person do that?” I asked, unable to rein in the thought.
“Do what?” Juan Carlos asked.
“Decapitate someone.”
We looked around the table at one another. It was one thing to speculate on what might have happened. It was another to break it down and piece it back together.
“You’d have to be strong, I would think,” Mateo said. “I mean, it can’t be easy. You’d need a chainsaw or an ax or something. And it would be messy. Blood everywhere.”
Jun audibly gulped.
“There’s no way Vivian could have done it,” I defended.
“Yeah, she’s a miniature little thing,” Juan Carlos added.
“Not just that,” I said. “She just doesn’t have it in her. I’ve known her forever. Sure, she gets an unholy glint in her eye when she kills a spider, but that’s an insect, not a person.”
“Who’s Vivian?” Jun asked.
Mateo sat up in his seat. “Is she the one they arrested? I heard about that. I heard she was covered in blood, soaked in it. She a friend of yours or something?” He cast a scandalized glance at Juan Carlos and me.
“Yes. And none of that’s true,” I argued. “She didn’t have a drop on her.” And then it hit me. How Detective Kennedy hadn’t seemed confident in Vivian’s arrest. The blood—or lack of it—would make it difficult for charges to stick. So why arrest her? Just because she was found with the body?
I needed to talk to Vivian and soon.
“Who’s Vivian?” Jun asked again.
Mateo asked, “How do you know she didn’t have any blood on her?”
His question had me frowning over how much information I should share and whom I should share it with. At this point I didn’t know whom to trust outside of Juan Carlos and Richard. To protect Viv, I let Mateo’s question slide.
“If she didn’t have any blood on her, then why did they arrest her?” Juan Carlos thankfully slipped in.
I turned to Mateo. “What do you know about how Hjálmar is run? Was Dhane more than the face behind it? Have you heard anything unusual either before or since Dhane’s death?”
