Nikki's Secret

by William Malmborg

  “Okay.”

  On that side a field came to an end against a wall of trees. Thirty seconds later the trees ended and the motel came into view.

  Kimberly slowed the car for the turn, which took them onto a gravel driveway that eventually became cracked pavement as they entered an opening between the motel office and the three sided box setup for the motel rooms. Grass poked through the pavement in several places, and one area had been so badly damaged that it had been replaced with gravel.

  Only two vehicles were parked in front of the rooms, which, given the looks of it, were separated into five for each row of the room portion of the box, totaling fifteen rooms.

  “Wow, you couldn’t pay me to stay here,” Kimberly muttered while coming to a halt in the middle of the courtyard-like square of pavement.

  “Same here,” Bill said. “The place is a dump.” He scanned the area. “I think that is room 6 over there.”

  Kimberly pulled up to where he was pointing.

  Bill didn’t even need to leave the car to know this was the door in the picture left last night.

  “You were right,” Kimberly said, which meant she didn’t need to vacate the vehicle for a closer look either. “So, what does it mean? Whoever is doing this is somehow connected to one of the men you lured to this room?”

  “I guess, but . . .” he didn’t know how a woman would fit into that.

  Kimberly, either thinking the same question, or having read his mind, said, “I wonder if you ruined a relationship and now the girl who was scorned is pissed and seeking revenge on Nikki?”

  Bill considered this.

  “I know I’d be pretty upset if I found out my boyfriend was online talking to someone like Nikki and planning to meet them for sex,” she added.

  “Would you start stalking the girl he had planned on meeting?” Bill asked.

  She replied with a glare.

  Bill brushed that off and said, “I still don’t get why she would leave this picture though. Is it really that important to point out this place to Nikki?”

  Kimberly didn’t reply.

  “Something just isn’t clicking with me.”

  “It seems pretty straight forward to me. She’s pissed that you ruined her relationship and wants you to know the reason she is seeking revenge.”

  “Hmm.”

  “It might even be more for her than it is for you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Maybe she needs you to know why she is doing this as a sort of justification for herself. It’s not enough that she just torments you . . . well me . . . she wants the reason for the torment to be known. Make it understood.”

  Bill thought about this for several seconds and said, “I know what you’re saying, but I still think there is more to it than just that.”

  “Like what?”

  “I really don’t -- ”

  THUNK! THUNK!

  Kimberly shouted, which caused Bill to jump. He then twisted toward the window, eyes startled to see a man looking in at them.

  “What are you two doing here?” the man demanded, his words loud enough to make it through the glass.

  Bill went to open his door, but Kimberly clicked the automatic locks before his hand found the latch.

  “Don’t go out there,” she hissed.

  “Why?” Bill asked.

  “We don’t know who he is.”

  “It’s probably just the manager.” He searched for his own lock release while saying this and pressed it.

  Kimberly locked it again.

  “Come on,” Bill snapped. “He might know something about the room.”

  “Like what, that husbands use it to get laid while their wives are at home?”

  Bill hit the lock release again, only this time he had his other hand on the door handle and opened it before she could re-lock it.

  The man was still standing there, a puzzled look on his face.

  “Excuse me, sir?” Bill said. “We had a question about that room over there, number six.”

  The man studied him across the car roof, a quizzical look upon his face, and then asked, “Why?”

  “Why?” Bill repeated. It wasn’t the word he had been expecting from the man, especially not when paired with caution, which was now present upon the man’s face. “Did something happen here a while back?”

  “You a reporter?”

  This really got his attention. “No.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  “Because someone keeps sending her pictures of this room, along with other upsetting things, and we’d like to know why.”

  “Pictures of the murder?”

  That caught him off guard. “Murder? No. Just the room.”

  “Then I don’t know what to tell you, and unless you two want a room I’m going to ask you to leave.” He turned to head back to the office.

  “Wait!” Bill called. “Who was murdered here?”

  “Look it up if you want to know. It was in the papers.” He stopped and twisted back. “Just keep in mind they left out some details, ones they thought would be too much for their readers.”

  “Like what?” Bill asked, feet closing some of the distance the man had created.

  “Like the guy having his penis cut off and stuffed in his mouth.”

  Bill felt the blood drain from his face. “When did this happen?”

  The man stared at him for what had to be thirty seconds and then asked, “You really want to know all this?”

  “Yes.”

  “All because you got some pictures of the room?”

  “And threats, and statements about it being her fault. Someone has mistaken her – “ he nodded toward the car “ – for someone she isn’t, someone involved in whatever happened here, and we would like to find out who it is so we can set them straight.”

  The man didn’t reply.

  Bill, unsure what to do, simply waited.

  “You’re really not a reporter?” he asked.

  “I’m not, honest to god.”

  “Business is bad enough without people fearing for their lives.”

  “I completely understand.” Truth was he didn’t think a newspaper story would do much damage to this place, not when the only people reading it would be locals, and the only people staying here weary travelers who most likely hadn’t read the local paper. Unless Kimberly was right and the typical client was one cheating on a significant other? Knowing a man was killed here while involved in such infidelity could put a dent in others selecting this local for such practices.

  “Fine, come on in back and I’ll tell you all about it. Bring your girlfriend too. No sense leaving her out all by her lonesome. I get some odd folks here. Just last week I found a ball gag left in the sheets of a bed.”

  Bill nodded and hurried over to the driver side door to get Kimberly.

  “What?” she asked while rolling down the window.

  “Pull around to the office. He’s going to let us in and tell us about the murder.”

  “Murder?”

  “Yeah. Nasty one by the sounds of it. Come on.”

  “Maybe I should stay here. He seems like a creep.”

  “Um, I’d be more worried about the clientele. Besides, two sets of ears are better than one. Something may click with you that doesn’t with me.”

  “Fine,” she said and shifted to reverse.

  Bill walked over and rejoined the man who was waiting, hands in his pocket, an odd look of disinterest on his face.

  “Here okay?” Kimberly asked as she pulled in front of the office. If parking spots had ever been marked out, they had long since faded away.

  “Anywhere” the man said with a wave of the hand, and then started into the office.

  Bill and Kimberly followed.

  6

  Nothing from Amy arrived before it was time for Mark to start heading toward DeKalb, which, naturally, caused him to worry. A debate on whether his decision to buy everything Nikki had told him to buy had been the rig
ht thing to do also began to unfold.

  If we get together and everything is fine, then it would have been worth it. If we don’t get together and I never hear from her again, then I’ll be pissed.

  He checked his phone before starting the car just to see if any messages had come in unannounced.

  Nothing.

  Should I send one?

  Concern on appearing insecure arrived. But then would she really think him insecure if he sent a simple ‘I’m on my way’ text?

  Just do it and move your ass.

  Chances were, if everything was okay between them, a reply would arrive at some point while on the road, which would help calm him down while driving.

  But if one doesn’t . . .

  He tried shaking the thought away, but it would not fade.

  Type it up and get moving.

  HEY! ON MY WAY. SHOULD BE THERE IN AN HOUR. LOOKING FORWARD TO SEEING YOU AGAIN :) MARK.

  After a few seconds he removed the smiley face -- just text would be best – and hit SEND. Not long after that he was maneuvering the car onto I-90 and heading west.

  The phone buzzed ten minutes into the ride.

  It was Amy.

  He looked at the message while keeping an eye on traffic. It said. SWEET! I’M LOOKING FORWARD TO IT TOO. LET ME KNOW WHEN YOU GET HERE. MY PLACE IS WITHIN WALKING DISTANCE OF TOM AND JERRY’S, SO I WILL HEAD ON OVER ONCE I GET THE MESSAGE.

  Mark sighed with relief.

  A moment later he flipped on the radio, his mind knowing he would be able to enjoy whatever was playing rather than be stressed out by it as his concern over the possibility of being stood up continued to pester him.

  But what if Nikki sends her a message between now and then?

  He tried not to think about the possibility or the feared outcome of such a message, but couldn’t hold it back and soon found himself growing worried all over again. Thankfully, it wasn’t an all-consuming worry because he did have Amy’s reply text to focus on. Having talked to Amy quite a bit the day before he also figured she was the type that would ask him about Nikki’s message rather than just bail on him. Sadly, this wasn’t enough to keep all his worries at bay. Nothing but watching as Amy arrived at the Hot Dog place and happily joined him for lunch would. And once that happened he knew his concern would then shift over toward making sure he didn’t say something that unintentionally upset her. The possibility that the two might have sex, based on what she had said in her email, would also be a constant thought, one that would bring a level of stress into things.

  Are all guys like this? he wondered as the car passed Medieval Times. Do we all worry to the point of madness before meeting a girl, or is it just me?

  Just you, his mind said.

  If this was true he hoped it would come to an end soon. Once he and Amy had sex – if we do! – maybe he would be able to relax. If not . . . well, he couldn’t imagine going his entire life this stressed out all the time over girls. It just wouldn’t work.

  7

  The living quarters behind the front desk was pretty much on par with what Bill had expected to see, which was a bit unsettling since all the back office living quarters he had ever seen had been within horror flicks centering on out of the way motels. Nothing good ever happened at those motels, and from what the man had hinted at moments earlier in the parking lot, something similar to what was witnessed in those movies had happened here.

  “If the bell rings I’ll have to go up front for a bit, but chances are that won’t happen,” the man said. “Things are pretty slow.”

  “Is that a recent thing or has it been slow for a while?” Bill asked.

  The man shrugged. “In my father’s day the place did pretty well, but now we survive on couples that need a place to stay for a while who aren’t interested in just parking the car and hopping into the backseat.”

  “You welcome that kind of business?” Kimberly asked, a note of disgust present in her voice.

  “I welcome business, period. If not here, they will go somewhere else.”

  Kimberly didn’t reply, which, given the look on her face, was probably for the best.

  “You do what you have to do to survive,” Bill said.

  “Yep,” the man agreed with a nod.

  Silence descended.

  “So, what happened in room six?” Bill asked.

  “And when?” Kimberly quickly added.

  He looked back and forth between the two for a moment and then said, “It happened in early May. I remember that because my wife and I had been talking a lot about the expected boost in customers we usually saw thanks to the different prom events going on in the surrounding areas. Plus, with all the police questions and then the reporter stuff, you just don’t forget much even when you want to because it just gets pounded into your brain.” He was quiet a moment. “It was a happy time, that first week in May. Business had been great in April and looked like it was going to be good again. I don’t rightly know why but we were seeing quite a few men during that time who were hooking up for a few hours. It was so sudden and unexpected that I started wondering if maybe some site had recommended us, you know, a site that maybe caters to those who are looking for one night stands or something.”

  Bill caught a look from Kimberly.

  “It’s funny; you can always tell when a man is planning on cheating because the first thing they always ask is if they can pay in cash. It makes you think that maybe part of the problem in their marriage is the lack of personal privacy. I mean, why should she be questioning him on what appears on a credit card statement? Most women would balk over a man asking them about a charge that appears on theirs, but then they feel it’s okay to just look over everything he is involved with?” He held up a finger. “One of the reasons my wife and I stayed together as long as we did was because we respected each other’s space.”

  ‘As long as we did,’ Bill noted. Did that mean they were separated now? He tucked the question away.

  “The man that came in that day, his name was Martin Moore. Normally I wouldn’t have remembered it, but, like I said, it has been drilled into my brain so well that I will never forget it now. I remember he seemed more nervous than most. Excited too. Guess he was expecting quite the experience.”

  The name didn’t ring any bells, but then most of the men who he had talked with when taking on the role of Nikki had never revealed their full names. He also never really cared enough about them to remember their first names when given.

  “I have to admit, I was kind of curious to see what the girl would be like, so I watched from my seat here which gives a pretty good view of things.”

  Bill and Kimberly both twisted around to look, as if it needed to be confirmed.

  “The lady that eventually arrived, however, well . . . let’s just say I didn’t want to picture the two having sex and actually started calculating the costs in my head on replacing the bed springs because they probably wouldn’t be able to handle her weight. I know that’s mean, but boy was she fat. Even from this distance I could just sense a grossness about her that I’d never want to experience.” He shuddered. “Anyway, I went back to my normal business and didn’t give them much thought until later that night when I noticed his car was still here. Most of these guys don’t stay beyond four or five, not when they have a wife to get home too. Technically the room was booked for the night though so I didn’t go check on him until the next morning after he failed to check out. That was when I knew something was wrong. Sadly, I went to check it myself rather than just calling the police like I should have. That would have saved me seeing what I saw.”

  “You said his penis was cut off,” Bill said when the man didn’t continue.

  He nodded. “Not just cut off though. She spent a good amount of time mutilating that entire area. Police found a bloody nail file, you know, one of those long ones that women will sometimes carry in their purse. It had a point on it that they say she used to stab him over and over again in the . . . well, you know.”


  “God,” Kimberly grimaced.

  Bill didn’t know what to say, his mind unable to contemplate how horrible something like that would be.

  “I was in Vietnam,” he said. “During the battle of Hue we had a civilian population trying to flee the city that came under mortar fire. The road had been mined too it seemed. The worst thing I ever saw was a pregnant lady who had caught a mortar blast. The fragments had ripped her belly open and the baby had fallen halfway out onto the –

  “Excuse me!” Kimberly said suddenly. “Bathroom?”

  “Um . . . over there,” he said while pointing.

  Kimberly hurried that way, door slamming behind her once she was within. A horrible retching sound echoed.

  “Ah jeez, I’m sorry,” the man said. “I didn’t mean to upset her like that. I just wanted to mention how this was worse than that.”

  Bill wasn’t sure how to reply, which was probably for the best since he didn’t want to open his mouth, not when the sounds he was hearing was making his own stomach turn over. Next would be that horrible pre-vomit sensation building in the back of his throat and then . . .

  The toilet flushed, followed by the sound of the sink faucet going. A minute later Kimberly came out of the bathroom, looked at them, and without a word left the office.

  Bill watched this, a debate growing, and then turned to the man and said, “I’ll be right back. I just want to make sure she’s okay.”

  The man nodded.

  Bill headed out; his eyes squinted due to the sudden brightness, and scanned the area.

  Kimberly was not at the car. Instead, she was leaning against the wall by the ice machine, crying. Not sobbing by any means, but tears were certainly running down her cheeks.

  “Are you okay?” Bill asked.

  She nodded.

  “You sure?”

  “Just leave me alone, okay?” It was a plea rather than a demand, one that he heeded by heading back inside.

  “Your girlfriend okay?” the manager asked.

  “Yeah,” Bill said. He thought about correcting the girlfriend statement, but then let it pass. “So, this lady that came in and killed the guy, is it possible she was wearing some kind of fat bodysuit disguise?” He was thinking about the girl he had confronted last night when asking this. She had not been fat. Not skinny either, just that comfortable middle zone that always seemed perfect to him, but not to the women he had been with.