The killings had to be related, somehow, to one of the three issues that were currently before the committee. I’d already followed the same-sex marriage lead. I’d put the fur fight on the back burner. I decided to keep it there for now. So my next step was obvious. I needed to find out about the internal life of EternaLife.
Chapter 19
THE NEXT MORNING I rode to the office and called Preserve-A-Pet, the animal subsidiary of EternaLife.
A dignified male voice answered. “Thank you for calling Preserve-A-Pet, Boca Raton’s comprehensive and compassionate pet loss service. How may we help you?”
“It’s . . . it’s Buffy, my Siamese,” I sniffed. “The vet tells me that . . .” I sobbed “. . . that she doesn’t have much longer.” Now I broke down in tears.
“I understand, my dear,” the man said. “It can be unbearable to face the loss of a beloved pet who is like a member of the family. This is a very painful time for you.”
“Yes, yes, it is. She’s my whole life. We’ve been together eighteen years. I just can’t face the thought of life without her. I heard about your services from a friend, so I’d like to come by and tour your facility to see if it’s a suitable place for Buffy to sleep until she can be brought back to life.” I sobbed again.
“By all means, my dear. What did you say your name was?”
“Harr . . . uh, Hailey. Hailey Holloway.”
“Ms. Holloway, feel free to come by any time. Of course, the sooner the better. If Barfy—”
“Buffy,” I snapped.
“Yes, of course. If Buffy is apt to pass at any moment, it’s important to be prepared. She will need to undergo the procedure as soon as possible afterward, so that she may be preserved before, well, decomposition sets in, if you’ll pardon my indelicacy.”
“Yes, I understand. When she wakes up I want her to be just as she was when she went to sleep. I’d like to come by this morning.”
“That will be fine, Ms. Holloway. My name is Robert Barnes, and I will personally guide you through our facility and explain our services.”
“Thank you,” I sobbed. “I’ll see you soon.”
I figured preserving your pet wasn’t cheap, so I had to dress like someone who could afford it. I packed the old Dolce & Gabbana and its accoutrements into my saddlebags, then rode over to the company,
It was housed in a huge, marble two-story building with neoclassical columns. I cruised past it to a McDonald’s, where I went into the restroom and changed. I put on the makeup, smudging the mascara on my lower lids and putting blush on the tip of my nose to make it look as if I’d been crying. The employees all had that fast-food workers’ vacant look of boredom coupled with an attitude, and none of them seemed to notice that who had gone into the restroom wasn’t the same as who came out.
Outside, I stashed my riding clothes into my saddlebags and then walked over to the pet mausoleum. I pulled open one of the large double doors and stepped into a lushly appointed foyer. The carpeting was a soft blue; the ceiling was painted with blue sky and clouds, and an enormous fresh flower arrangement stood on a round table in the center of the room.
There was no receptionist, but I did see a security camera in one corner of the ceiling, so I figured they knew I was there and someone would come out shortly. I sat down on a cushy armchair and waited. Ten minutes later, just as I was about to lose my patience, a short, red-haired, thirtyish man in a black pinstripe suit emerged from the nether regions.
“Hello, how may I help you?” he asked.
“I’m Hailey Holloway. I called earlier.”
“Oh, yes, of course, Ms. Holloway. I’m Robert Barnes. Can I offer you something to drink? Espresso? Cappuccino? We have a Sunbucks concession on-site. Of course, this will be on the house.”
Sunbucks inside a pet freezing operation? Was no place safe from that coffee empire’s insidious plot to take over America?
“Uh, yes, that would be lovely,” I said and followed him through a back door. Sure enough, there it was, a full-fledged Sunbucks.
Oh, shit, what was I going to order? I hadn’t set foot in one of these bourgeois coffee bars since my Babe days. I wracked my brain to remember the proper insider lingo. Finally, it came to me.
“I’ll have a venti double skinny decaf caramel macchiato,” I told the Barbie-like barista.
“Certainly. Your name?” she asked, even though no one else was around to confuse her with multiple orders.
“Harr . . . uh, Hailey.”
“Oh, like the comet? That is so cosmic.”
She wrote the name on a paper cup, then created the drink and placed it on the other end of the counter, obliging me to walk over, as if there were a line of people waiting behind me.
“Shall we sit down?” Barnes asked.
I nodded and sat.
“Now tell me about . . . uh . . . uh . . . ” he stuttered.
“Buffy.”
“Yes, of course, Buffy. We’ve found that talking through one’s anticipatory grief is often very therapeutic.”
“Oh. Okay, I guess. Buffy was a high-school graduation gift. She’s seen me through college, all three marriages, and, of course, she’s traveled with me to Paris, London, all over the world, really. She was there for me when all three of my dear husbands passed.”
Barnes gulped.
“Yes, poor Dick, Peter, and Willy, bless their souls. They’re resting in a nice set of matching Wedgwood urns on the mantelpiece of my faux fireplace. But I don’t want to go that route with Buffy. I can’t stand the thought of her being gone forever.”
“Well, you are certainly in the right place, my dear. Allow me to explain our services. Essentially, we will place your beloved companion into a state of suspended animation using the latest cutting-edge technology. This means she will be preserved in pristine condition. Then your faithful friend will be laid in one of our lovely glass enclosures, where you can also place anything you’d like, such as her favorite toys or whatnot. There she will rest in peace. We are open seven days a week from 7:00 a.m. to 10:00 p.m., so you may visit your beloved whenever and as often as you would like. And someday soon, hopefully, the scientific technology will become available to restore her to life.”
“So it’s kind of like the Sleeping Beauty?”
“Yes, that’s it, exactly!”
Like I’d said before, fairy-tale dreams live on in Boca.
“You must understand, however, that we cannot guarantee that such technology will in fact become a reality. It’s not as simple as a kiss from a prince to bring your darling out of her sleep. However, the scientific research to date is certainly promising. Nonetheless, our contract does contain a no-guarantee clause.”
“Yes, I understand.”
“Also, please be aware that we offer a full spectrum of therapeutic services for the bereaved, including counseling, pastoral care, massage therapy, Native American healing circles and much more.”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.
“Now, Ms. Holloway, as I’m sure you can appreciate, our services are not inexpensive.”
“Yes, of course. Money is no object when it comes to my baby. And Dick, Peter, and Willy all left me very comfortable.”
“Very well, let me explain our price structure. The suspended-animation procedure is ten to twenty thousand dollars, depending on the size of your pet. Since yours is a feline, I imagine it would be at the lower end of that range. Then there’s a monthly maintenance fee between five hundred and one thousand dollars, again depending on size. Obviously, larger animals require larger enclosures. And we must keep an extremely low constant temperature within, as you can imagine. Now when it comes to the revivification, the cost of that will have to be determined by market forces at the time the technology becomes available. However, you do have the option to purchase futu
res on the technology, which would be an excellent investment with a likelihood of very high returns.”
Futures on a nonexistent commodity? My ScamBuster warning system was on high alert. However, I was here to solve a set of murders, not to bust this bozo. At least not right now.
“That sounds good,” I said. Then I sobbed. “I’m sorry, it’s just such a dreadful prospect, even though I’m sure your services are wonderful.”
“Please, don’t apologize. Your feelings are completely natural. Now, here is a sample contract as well as a brochure describing everything I’ve just explained to you. How about if we take a tour?”
“Yes, I just have a couple questions before we do.”
“Certainly.”
“Are you the owner of this facility?”
“No, I am the general manager. We are a part of a larger entity, EternaLife.”
“Yes, so I’ve heard. That brings me to my other question. I’ve heard you’re looking to expand into the human arena. Is that so? The reason I ask is, I’m about to be married again, and I’d like to have a plan for my future . . . well, widowhood.”
He gulped again.
“Yes, indeed, you’ve heard correctly. We’re very excited about the proposed expansion. We truly believe this will provide people with a dignified and hopeful alternative to the traditional options. We’re currently awaiting approval from the Boca city council. We’re quite sure we’ll get it, and then we’ll be ready to break ground on the new human facility.”
“Okay, I’ll certainly keep that in mind. I’m ready for that tour now.”
We rose, and he led me through another door into a large room lined with row upon row of glass display cases. In the center were some benches so that one could sit and contemplate.
The animals and their accompanying enclosures were of varying sizes, ranging from a teacup poodle to a Great Dane. All the dogs and cats did indeed look as if they were peacefully sleeping.
Their owners had clearly spared no expense on their loved ones. Some of the pets delicately rested their heads on Versace pillows; others boasted bejeweled collars; and others had fresh flowers in vases attached to the wall next to each glass case. Almost all the cases held toys, chew bones, catnip and so forth. Damned if this whole thing wasn’t like a royal Egyptian tomb. One day, millennia from now, it would be discovered and people would marvel at the bizarre funerary practices of the ancient Boca-ites. A traveling exhibition would be set up—the King Mutt Show—and the bucks would roll in.
“It’s lovely,” I told Barnes. “Very peaceful.”
“Would you like to see the cryonic chamber?”
“Yes.”
We proceeded through yet another door into a huge, two-story room dominated by a stainless-steel vat that must have been ten feet tall and eight feet in diameter. A ladder went up the side, and a small metal walkway encircled the top.
“Care to go up?” Barnes asked.
“Yes, all right.”
“You might want to take those heels off.” He nodded toward my feet.
“Yes, you’re right.” I kicked off the shoes and went up the ladder, with Barnes behind me. I had a feeling he was getting a good view up my skirt.
At the top I stepped onto the walkway, which had railings on both sides. I was now atop the vat, which was covered with a large lid. I moved over so Barnes could join me.
“This is filled with liquid nitrogen,” he explained. “It has a temperature of minus 385 degrees Fahrenheit and must be kept under very high pressure to remain in the liquid state.”
He pushed a button and the lid slid open. Immediately, gaseous vapors rose up.
“Now, allow me to demonstrate how this works.”
He pulled a banana out of his pocket.
“Please feel this,” he said.
It had come out of his pants, it was six inches long and slightly curved upward. I did not care for this symbolism at all. However, I did as he asked and touched it. It was ripe and soft.
“Now observe.”
Barnes pulled a long piece of string out of his pocket and tied the banana to one end. Then he plunged it down into the vat and pulled it back out immediately.
It was covered with frost, and white vapors evaporated from its surface.
“Let’s wait a couple minutes, then touch it again.”
I waited and touched. It was cold and solid as a rock.
“That’s it,” Barnes said. “The basic process of cryonics. As you can see, a couple seconds is all it takes. Of course, some preparation of the body is necessary before the immersion. But we needn’t go into those details now.”
“Right.”
Just then his cell phone rang. “Excuse me,” he said and answered it.
After listening for several seconds, he said, “Yes, I’ll be right there.”
Then to me he said, “I’m so sorry. We’ve had an arrival. My assistant has just finished prepping it. Would you mind terribly waiting here for just a couple minutes? I’ll just get the arrival and bring it right back up here. Then you can see the process in reality.”
“Uh, okay,” I said, not at all sure I wanted to see some poor creature dipped in there.
“Thank you so much. And please, don’t walk around until I get back. We wouldn’t want any accidents.”
He sprang down the ladder.
Okay. Sure. I gazed at the vapors rising from the still-open vat. Then, naturally, rebel that I am, I started strolling along the walkway, holding onto both railings.
Suddenly, about halfway around, my feet slipped from under me and beneath the inside railing. The sudden movement caused me to lose my grip on the outer railing. Holy crap! I was barely hanging on to the inner railing with one arm. My body was dangling right over the open vat.
I was about to take a very, very cold plunge.
Chapter 20
THANK GOD, or actually, thank Lior, that my Krav Maga training had given me a buff set of biceps and abs. I grasped the railing with my other arm and did a chin-up. Then I did a lower ab crunch that brought my knees up to the metal walkway. From there I bent to one side and slid my feet, then the rest of me, onto the walkway.
I lay there on my back, my heart pounding. I was sure this was no accident, as Barnes had forewarned. I touched the walkway next to me. It was slick with some kind of oil. It looked as if Barnes was out to get me. I got up and carefully walked to the ladder, then quickly climbed down.
I looked around the large room and saw a door with a sign saying Emergency Exit: Alarm Will Sound.
Well, my attempted murder certainly qualified as an emergency as far as I was concerned. To hell with the alarm.
I grabbed my high heels off the floor, ran to the door and pushed it open. Sure enough, an alarm sounded. Ignoring it, I got my bearings, then ran through a back alley to the McDonald’s where my hog was parked. I grabbed my street clothes out of the saddlebags and ran into the restroom.
If Barnes was out to get me, he probably wouldn’t go into a women’s room to do it. But what if it wasn’t Barnes, but someone else? Like a woman. Could Barbie Barista actually be a covert killer? I decided the restroom really was no refuge.
I ditched the designer duds, pulled on my black uniform, and rushed out. I got on my hog, stuffed the suit in the saddlebags, and got the hell out of there.
I rode back to the office, my mind, as usual, gaining clarity as I rode. Whoever was out to get me probably wouldn’t want to do it in a public place. Both the attacks on me, first in Mort’s Mortuary and now, had been in places where I could easily be disposed of.
It struck me that the methods of disposal were pretty damn ironic. One by burning, the other by freezing.
And the killings of the three clergy seemed tailor-made: an organ pipe for the reverend, a prayer shawl for the rabbi
, and a baptismal font for the priest. Whoever was behind this was one sick psycho with a sense of humor as twisted as a tornado.
Well, all I had to do was avoid going into any unfamiliar places. Yeah, right. That was gonna happen.
By the time I got back to the office, my fear had turned to fury. I would get this son of a bitch. I’d put up with plenty of threats and violence in my marriage. Never again would I back off from a bully.
I needed to find out more about EternaLife. Such as who owned it. I’d tried obliquely to get the information out of Barnes but hadn’t wanted to push him for fear of making him suspicious of my motives. But obviously, my cover had already been blown. The question was how? And by whom?
Well, if I couldn’t squeeze the information out of a person, I just might squeeze it out of the computer. I sat down and logged on to the Internet.
I began with the company’s website, www.EternaLife.net. I clicked on Who We Are and found the names of a CEO and officers. I recognized some of the names as those who had testified on behalf of the company before the city council, as recorded in the minutes I’d read.
But this didn’t tell me who owned the company, just who ran it. Scrolling down farther, I found a statement indicating that EternaLife was a wholly-owned subsidiary of Harbourside Holdings Group. Okay, who the hell was that? Why was nothing ever simple and straightforward? I guess if it was, I’d be out of a job.
I clicked on the link to Harbourside. Again clicking on Who We Are, I found it was a small group of investors who held majority shares in a number of companies throughout South Florida. EternaLife was one of those holdings. Harbourside currently held all the shares because an initial public offering had not been made yet.
Dirty Harriet Rides Again Page 12
