Gypped

by Carol Higgins Clark

  Friday, October 5th

  10

  When Regan opened her eyes, once again it took her a moment to realize where she was. The first clue was that she felt like a pretzel. Gray shadows giving the room a surreal atmosphere were the second. Oh yes, she thought. This ain’t the Beverly Hills Island Hotel. Regan checked her watch. It was 7:10. Jack was probably on his way downtown to the meeting.

  Regan dragged herself “out of chair,” wishing it was out of bed. The sight of a sleeping Zelda reassured her that she wasn’t in some sort of dream world. A few minutes later she located a bathroom downstairs that didn’t have shattered glass all over the floor. Looking in the mirror, she sighed. I need to get back to the hotel after Zelda wakes up.

  A new toothbrush that Zelda had given her the night before was in Regan’s hand. After freshening up as much as she could, Regan grabbed her coat off the couch in the living room, and her keys from the kitchen. Let’s hope the car is still there, she thought.

  Outside, the air was brisk. Regan, in her heels, carefully made her way down the steep driveway. She turned and started up the block, enjoying the sound of the chirping birds. What a beautiful time of day, she thought. Everything is so peaceful.

  Beyond the Scrumps estate, there were woods on either side of the street. Regan wondered why other houses hadn’t been built. When she reached the top of the road, she spotted her car at the end of the block. All by itself.

  “Yes!” she said aloud. “The day is starting out right.” It felt good to walk and stretch her legs, after being cramped on that chair. When she reached the four-door sedan, and started to put the key in the door, a thought occurred to her. The valet last night had mentioned a hiking trail was right here. Should I take a quick look? If Jack and I decide to stay in LA for the weekend, a hike might be fun.

  She walked around the car and started on a narrow path heading into the woods. Twigs crunched underneath her feet as her high heels started to sink into the soil. Maybe I shouldn’t do this now, she thought. Turning around, a glint of silver caught her eye. It was a few feet off the walking path, and mostly covered by leaves. What’s that? she wondered, slowly moving toward the shiny object. She leaned over, and carefully cleared away the leaves on top.

  “Oh my God,” Regan breathed.

  She’d uncovered a long, shiny butcher knife.

  What is that doing here? Regan wondered. It looks brand new. Once again, her heart started racing. Why would someone bring a knife like that into the woods? Did they hide it here? This is not good. Regan grabbed the handle, pointed the blade downward, and hurried back to the car. She opened the trunk, dropped the knife, and slammed the trunk shut. A minute later she was racing up Zelda’s driveway.

  It might be nothing, she reasoned, as she parked, got out, and went back into the kitchen. But that knife could be deadly. She double locked the door. If you go hiking, you might bring a pocket knife, but that’s it. I’ll talk to Jack later. The best thing to do would be to turn it over to the police. If the owner is looking for his butcher knife, let him go claim it at the precinct’s lost and found.

  Regan prepared a tray of tea and toast, enough for both her and Zelda. If she’s not awake, I’ll make more later. Regan headed upstairs and tiptoed into Zelda’s room.

  “Regan, hi.” Zelda started to sit up.

  “How do you feel?”

  “A little wiped out.”

  “Tea?”

  “Sounds great,” Zelda said, propping herself up on the pillows. “I am thirsty.” She sipped the tea Regan gave her and ate a slice of toast. “I’m glad I can get something down.”

  “I am, too,” Regan agreed. Here goes, she thought. “Zelda, you mentioned yesterday we might go on a moonlight hike last night.”

  Zelda rolled her eyes. “Such big plans.”

  “You’re not planning to go hiking in the next few days, are you?”

  “Not the way I feel. But earlier this week I went for walks in the woods with my clients. Sometimes it’s good to be out in nature and get all the cobwebs out of your head. This area is perfect for that. Even taking a walk on the block is great. No traffic!”

  “Zelda, I just went down to the end of the road to get my car.”

  “One of the valets didn’t bring it into the driveway last night?”

  “No.”

  “That’s terrible!”

  “Well, maybe it’s good they didn’t. I walked down to take a look at the hiking trail but my sandals were getting stuck in the ground. I hadn’t gone very far when I discovered a large butcher knife that was mostly hidden under some leaves.”

  “A large what?” Norman said excitedly as he strode into the room. “A knife? I was just coming up the steps and couldn’t help but overhear.”

  “Oh, hello, Norman” Regan said. “Yes. I found a knife in the woods. And what’s more troubling is that it obviously hasn’t been there very long. It looked brand new.”

  Norman flopped in the chair.

  Zelda glanced at him. “You look tired.”

  “It was very busy last night,” Norman sniffed. “At least I’m not still in bed.”

  “Right after you left I got very sick,” Zelda said reproachfully. “That’s why Regan is here. She stayed with me.”

  “You got sick?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Norman said sincerely, as he put his hand to his mouth. “Regan, you should have called me. I would have come right back.”

  “It’s okay,” Regan said. “I wanted to stay.”

  “Tell us about the knife,” Zelda urged.

  “There’s nothing much to say,” Regan answered. “I put it in the trunk of my car. I just can’t think of any good reason why it would be hidden under leaves in the woods. The valet said last night that people don’t access the hiking trail from this street because they can’t park here easily.”

  “Maybe we should hire a security guard,” Norman said excitedly. “It’s a good thing we’re clearing out of here in a few days. What a waste of money this place is.”

  “It was for a good cause,” Zelda protested. “Whatever it was.”

  Norman shrugged. “I don’t remember. What do you think made you sick?”

  “I don’t know. I probably caught a bug.”

  Zelda’s cell phone rang. She opened the drawer of her nightstand, grabbed it, and glanced at the caller ID.

  “It’s Rich,” she said. “Hello . . . oh, thanks Rich, it was fun, wasn’t it? Yes, a lot of different people. You want to come by? Well, sure, I’ll be here. Great. See you then.” Zelda pressed disconnect and put down her phone. “Rich has some business he wants to discuss with me this afternoon.”

  “Shouldn’t you rest?” Norman asked.

  “He has something to talk to me about before he goes away for the weekend. Besides, if I just sit here I won’t feel any better. I have to cancel my clients because it’s not fair to charge for a session when I can’t give them my best, but I can meet with Rich. Besides, we have to get ready for company that will be arriving late tonight.”

  Norman’s eyes widened. “Company? Tonight? I’m exhausted.”

  “My father and his new wife.”

  “What?”

  Zelda explained.

  “Oh my God! He married her already!”

  “Yes. They can use the bedroom downstairs at the end of the hall.” Zelda shrugged. “It’s too weird.”

  “While you’re getting this place ready,” Regan said, “you might want to take a look at the bathroom by the staircase. Last night the shower curtain collapsed into the tub.”

  “You took a shower there?” Norman asked quizzically. “You should have gone into one of the bedrooms and used a more private bathroom.”

  “I didn’t shower. I was sitting here and heard a crashing sound at three in the morning. The curtain rod is all rusted. It fell and knocked over a glass vase.”

  “Well, how perfect,” Norman said, wrinkling his nose. “I’ll take care of it. I guess.
”

  Regan finished the last of her tea. “Speaking of showers, I think I’ll head back to the hotel. But I do want you to be careful around here. Keep the doors locked.”

  “It’s Friday,” Norman said. “We’ll be out of here Monday. Now that Zelda’s father is coming, there will be a lot of people in the house.”

  “Regan,” Zelda said disappointedly. “I feel terrible. You’ve been so good to me. Can you at least come back for lunch?”

  “Zelda, shouldn’t you just rest?”

  “No, I’d much rather spend time with you. Besides, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

  “What?” Norman asked.

  “Norman, I’m talking to Regan.”

  “Okay. Do you want me to leave?”

  “No. You already know everything that goes on in my life.” Zelda turned her head toward Regan. “I was wondering if I could hire you to find out a little about the woman my father married.”

  “Isn’t it a little late?” Norman asked practically. “What good could it possibly do to have Regan start investigating now?”

  Thanks, Norman, Regan thought.

  “If there’s something about her we should know, it’s not too late,” Zelda said somewhat impatiently. “All I want to do is protect my father. If she checks out, she checks out. I hope they’re happy!”

  “All right, already,” Norman said. “Take it easy.”

  Zelda looked at Regan. “What do you think?”

  Poor Zelda, Regan thought. What a terrible position she’s in. “I’d be happy to help you, but I do have plans for the weekend with Jack. Is it okay if I start the investigation next week?”

  “Of course,” Zelda said. “But come back for lunch.”

  11

  Petunia, wrapped in a fluffy robe, was sipping coffee in her basement and admiring all the loot she’d received for her “charity fundraiser.” After dinner last night Clarence had been so engrossed in the baseball game he barely noticed when she left the room. Petunia came straight downstairs to her office, turned on a large flat-screen television, and got to work. First she slit open the cardboard boxes containing the long folding tables she’d purchased at a discount store, threw the cardboard in a heap, and set up the tables against one wall. She placed all the donations on display and photographed each one.

  With great care, she loaded the pictures from her camera to her computer, printed them out, and filed them in her desk. Every few minutes she grabbed the remote control and switched TV stations, hoping she’d find an infomercial for a get rich quick scheme or a phenomenal product that promised to change your life. It was easy for her to detect which ads were rip-offs. She was amazed at how quickly certain information flashed on and off the screen—information the consumer might be interested in, like the company’s name.

  In one corner of the room she’d already set up her Pet’s Projects Studio consisting of a video camera on a tripod and a plain white backdrop. It was where she’d film promotions about her good works and post them on the Internet. She was learning how to change the background on the video screens so it appeared that she was in a much more exotic place than her basement. Petunia hoped to have many different identities as a do-gooder. Her notebook was full of ideas.

  She yawned and took another sip of her triple mocha latte java, and smiled. I don’t know why basements get a bad rap, she mused. Everyone scoffs about people who sit in their basements and post nasty anonymous comments on the Internet. That may be true, but basements are places where good things happen, too. Scientists carry out important experiments in basements. We store things in basements. People play Ping-Pong and shoot pool in basements. Some of us do our wash in basements. Bargain basements save us money, or at least they’re supposed to.

  And now, Petunia thought, putting down her coffee and stretching her arms, I’m going to launch a successful business of my own in my basement. I’m entering this game late in life but hopefully I’ll figure out how to make up for lost time. How many companies, even if they’re legitimate, started out small?

  One step at a time, she thought, as she tried to touch her toes but couldn’t. For a second she pondered purchasing exercise equipment but immediately nixed the idea as a waste of her hard-earned money. If I get rich, I’ll hire a trainer, even though I’ll still hate to exercise. She stood straight up, took a large gulp of coffee, and immediately felt better. I’ve got to get dressed, she thought, but first I need to check my horoscope.

  She sat down at the computer, put on her reading glasses, and started tapping at the keys like an old pro. On her favorite astrological web site the forecast for her sign wasn’t great. It warned of taking on new projects. Petunia frowned, then quickly searched several more sites looking for a prediction for the day that would make her happy. It was no different than biting into a half dozen fortune cookies before finding one that tells you you’re better than everyone else.

  Finally, she found what she was searching for. You are ready for a big change. She read aloud. Don’t stay stuck in the past. Go with the times. No one deserves it more than you. Petunia whooped. “I do deserve it!” she said aloud. “I do!”

  It is time for me to go with the times. I stayed stuck in the past and didn’t pursue my dreams while my kids lived at home. If I don’t act now, it may be too late. I’m glad I took that computer class last year.

  Petunia was lost in her thoughts. The world has changed so much since I was a kid. Back then, there were no computers or cell phones. Televisions had rabbit ears to get better reception on a lousy six or seven stations! Wait a minute, she said to herself. What did all the hardcore scam artists do before the dawn of cable television and then the Internet? They must have been so unfulfilled! The Internet really opened the floodgates for people who wanted to get their hands on other people’s money. Now they could reach into the pocket of someone on the other side of Mother Earth in no time flat!

  The door at the top of the basement steps opened. “Petunia!” Clarence bellowed.

  “Here!”

  “Jade is on the phone.”

  Petunia deliberately didn’t have a phone in the basement. She didn’t want anyone other than herself or Clarence to have a reason to go down there. When her kids came home for a visit, she planned to put the cameras away and make the space appear to be a comfy office where Mom liked to occasionally dabble on the computer. “Jade’s on the phone?”

  “That’s what I said.”

  “I’m coming.”

  Jade, their youngest, had graduated from a college in San Diego five months earlier. To Petunia’s dismay, she wanted to commute to school, thus putting off her parents’ plans to move north for four years. Now Jade was in a tiny country Petunia had never heard of, thousands of miles away, teaching English to needy children. I don’t know where she came from, Petunia often thought.

  At the top of the steps Clarence handed her the phone, then kissed her on the cheek. “See you later. You’d better hurry. You’ll be late for work.”

  “I know,” Petunia said, giving him a playful push. She held the phone to her ear. “Jade, honey, how’s it going? You’re loving it still. It’s only been a couple of weeks you’ve been there. The kids are so cute? Oh, great, I’m so proud of you... right . . . right... your sister is fine. She’s like you, saving the world, just closer to home.” Petunia laughed. “Honey, I was wondering. Why don’t you take a picture of your class and send it to me? I’d love to see their little faces. Take lots of photos, okay?” Petunia laughed. “Of course I want you to be in one or two of the pictures!”

  No more than that, Petunia thought. Or I’ll edit you out.

  12

  Back at the hotel, Regan took the elevator to the sixth floor, then headed down a long hallway. A maid’s cart was parked suspiciously close to her room. Oh, please, Regan thought, don’t let her be in there now. I’m dying to take a shower.

  With a sigh of relief, Regan passed the cart full of fresh towels and toiletry samples, taking a quick glance into
the room next to hers where the maid was cleaning. She was about to fire up the vacuum. Quickening her pace, Regan let herself into her room. It hadn’t been cleaned yet. Just in time, Regan thought. The maid can come back after I leave.

  She put her purse on the desk and took off her shoes. Looking at the unmade bed she could tell that Jack had barely moved from his side. Oh, Regan thought wistfully. He must have been so tired. It feels strange to think he’s come and gone. She shrugged. We have all weekend to be together.

  They had texted each other earlier, and decided to stay in Los Angeles tonight. The plan was to have dinner in Beverly Hills at an Italian restaurant, then tomorrow morning they’d figure out what they wanted to do. I’m so glad we won’t be scrambling to check out this evening, Regan thought. We’ve hardly spent any time enjoying this beautiful hotel.

  She pressed the DO NOT DISTURB button, ordered breakfast from room service, then headed into the shower. The sprays of hot water coming from all directions felt great, especially on her achy neck and shoulders. She could have stood there all day. After several minutes she turned off the faucets and grabbed a towel. She dried off and wrapped herself in one of the hotel’s terrycloth robes. Now I notice how hungry I am! That slice of toast at Zelda’s didn’t cut it.

  Regan decided to rest until room service arrived. She lay down on the side of the bed where Jack had slept, then turned her head so her cheek was resting on his pillow, breathing in his scent. I wish he were here.

  Her thoughts turned to Zelda. What she’s going through would be a lot easier if she had someone like Jack. Zelda has nice friends, and Norman certainly provides interesting companionship, but she has no one to really lean on. She’s pretty much on her own. To think just yesterday she found out that her father married someone he hasn’t known very long. Zelda was upset that he hadn’t talked to her first. I can’t imagine being in that position. Regan shuddered. It would never happen, she told herself. Then she laughed out loud. The thought of her father getting married in a drive-through chapel in Las Vegas was so absurd, it was funny. No, if my father ended up alone, it would be sad for both of us. I’d have to expect the unexpected, but certainly not that.