Zapped

by Carol Higgins Clark

  “Kit, I think you’ll need night vision glasses,” Billy joked as he lightly touched her shoulder. “There’s not much to see. It’s pretty dark.”

  “Whatever,” Kit shrugged. “Regan, can I see the pictures?”

  Regan turned on the light in the car and handed the photos to Kit. “Oh, my God,” Kit exclaimed as she looked at the images of the branded arms. “She is evil.”

  “I’m afraid so,” Regan answered. “You’re about to hear more,” she said as she dialed Herb McFadden, the detective in Atlanta. While she was telling him about the photos they’d found, Melanie opened the passenger door and got in.

  “We also have reason to believe that Georgina’s grandmother, whom she was very close to, lived in New York City,” Regan said. “This woman was a bartender at a hole-in-the-wall on the Upper East Side. Supposedly she had a tough exterior, but she kept a picture of her granddaughter behind the bar. Did Georgina’s friend Paulette mention anything about her?”

  “No, but I’ll ask. She’s keeps talking about a guy who dumped Georgina in college. I guess he was pretty cruel to her. Paulette says it’s why Georgina does what she does.”

  “If everybody who’d been dumped resorted to this kind of revenge, most of the world would be walking around with brands on their bodies,” Regan commented.

  “Revenge takes all forms,” McFadden noted. “Last week a woman here in Atlanta took all fifteen of her cheating husband’s designer suits, threw them in a pile in the backyard, and set them on fire. I guess he should consider himself lucky.”

  “Sounds like it couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy,” Regan said. “I’m in my car now with one of Georgina’s co-workers, my friend who had gone to the comedy club with Georgina tonight, and a comedian from the club. We’re going to drive around the city and see if we can possibly locate them. I know it’s a long shot. Has Paulette mentioned anything new about Georgina’s habits when she pulled off these crimes that might help us?”

  “She just mentioned that Georgina would get her victims to drink margaritas.”

  “Margaritas?” Regan asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Her grandmother’s specialty was margaritas. And my friend Kit said Georgina had one at the comedy club tonight.”

  “That’s interesting. And two or three of those drinks have more of an effect than two or three beers. Paulette said Georgina would pretend to drink while the guys were downing the tequila. When she knew they’d be leaving the bar soon, she’d spike their drinks with the knockout drops.

  “Let me know if Paulette has anything to say about Georgina’s grandmother. Or any other tidbits she shares that might be helpful.”

  “Will do.”

  Regan hung up and turned on the car.

  “These pictures are dreadful,” Kit said quietly.

  “They were stuffed in her pillow. I guess they gave her sweet dreams,” Regan said as she steered the car out into the traffic. “There are so many bars in this city. I think I’ll call Cal and see if he knows of any bars on the Upper East Side that are known for margaritas. At least it’s a place to start.”

  25

  Chip Jones’s parents were watching coverage of the blackout in their rustic country home in Maine. Sue and Chris Jones were an attractive couple in their late forties. Both were blond and athletic. They’d raised two blond, athletic children—Chip and a daughter who lived in California. Life had been good to them.

  “Chip sounded like he was having fun,” Sue told her husband as she sat down next to him on the overstuffed couch in the great room of the house. A large, stone fireplace was at one end of the spacious room and an open-air kitchen at the other. A cool breeze was blowing in through sliding glass doors that overlooked the sea. The vacation home was their summer retreat and where they spent the holidays.

  “What a mess though,” Chris answered. “It all started because lightning struck a tree that hadn’t been trimmed. A branch falls on a power line and starts a whole chain of events that lead to a major blackout.” Chris was a good man, if rather anal. His yard was always perfect, and the tools in his garage and basement were arranged with surgical precision. The idea of untended, overgrown trees was anathema to him.

  The phone rang. Sue reached for the portable next to the couch. “It’s Natalie,” Sue said as she glanced at the caller ID. Natalie was their twenty-five-year-old daughter who was working at a television station in San Diego. “Hello, honey.”

  “Hi, Mom. Are you okay? Do you still have power?”

  “We’re fine. It’s actually a very pleasant night up here.”

  “That’s good. I’m working the late shift. I just got here and, of course, all the news is about the blackout. When I told my boss that Chip had just moved to New York City, he asked if I could reach him so they could interview him over the phone. I tried, but his cell phone is going right into voice mail. Have you talked to him?”

  “Yes, I did. He was out on the town and sounded like he was enjoying himself. They may be having problems with cell phone reception.”

  “He never turns off his cell phone,” Natalie said, worry creeping into her voice. “Where was he when you talked to him?”

  “He said he was just wandering the streets with someone.”

  “Who?”

  “He didn’t say.”

  “Do you think he might be with Phil?”

  “I honestly don’t know. Do you want Phil’s number? Why don’t you give him a call?”

  “Okay. That’d be great.”

  Sue got up and went into the kitchen. She found Phil’s number in the directory she kept next to the phone and read it to her daughter.

  “Thanks, Mom. How is Chip’s job going?”

  “I think that he’s less than thrilled with it. But he just started. It takes time to get acclimated.”

  “Right,” Natalie said. She knew that Chip wasn’t that happy with what he was doing. But he had time to change careers. He was so funny and smart and likeable that Natalie was sure that he could do whatever he wanted. But she’d always been worried that he was a little naïve for his age. “I’ll give Phil a call. How’s Dad?”

  “Doing fine. We’re here watching all the news about the blackout.”

  “Give him my love. If you hear from Chip please ask him to call me right away.”

  “Okay, dear. And if you talk to him, let us know.” Sue replaced the phone in the receiver and rejoined her husband on the couch. “Natalie is such a worrier,” she said lightly. “I can tell she’s concerned that she can’t reach Chip. It’s silly isn’t it?” she asked her husband, looking for reassurance.

  Chris put his arm around her. “Of course it is. Chip’s a big boy. He can take care of himself. You didn’t talk to him that long ago.”

  “You’re right,” Sue said, putting her head on her husband’s shoulder. “I’m sure he’ll be fine,” she said with a conviction she did not feel. “It’s just that he sounded like he’d been drinking a little too much.”

  A picture of a high-rise building in Manhattan came on the screen. “New Yorkers are being urged to check on their neighbors. Especially the elderly. The heat in the apartments can be stifling and become a real danger for people with respiratory problems. As far as crime goes, several arrests have been made for looting and a number of muggings have been reported, but all things considered it’s relatively peaceful. However, the streets are dark and many of them are deserted. The mayor is urging everyone to please be careful…”

  A sudden dread came over Sue. Her intuition told her that Chip was in trouble. She reached for the phone.

  “Who are you calling?” Chris asked.

  “Chip,” she said briskly.

  But his phone went straight to voice mail.

  “Chip, please call us. No matter what time you get this. It’s very important.”

  “Honey,” Chris said, slightly exasperated. “You just spoke with him a few minutes ago. Maybe he met a girl he’s having fun with. He’s a big boy. Leav
e him alone.”

  “I just need to hear his voice,” Sue said. “Maybe I’ll call Phil…”

  “Wait a few minutes. If Natalie’s station is doing an interview with him, the last thing you need to do is interrupt.”

  “Okay,” Sue said, trying her best to relax. Like any mother, she had always worried about her children. But this was the first time she had an overpowering feeling that something was terribly wrong.

  26

  “Are you okay?” Chip asked Georgina as they approached Eighty-sixth Street.

  “Yes. Why do you ask?”

  “I don’t know. Your mood seems to have changed.”

  “My mood?”

  “You just got so quiet, that’s all.”

  “I was thinking. This area used to be known as Germantown. Did you know that?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “Have you ever heard of the General Slocum steamship disaster?” Georgina asked.

  “What disaster?”

  “The General Slocum steamship disaster. It happened in the East River in 1904. A steamship full of mostly women and children was headed to a picnic on Long Island when the ship caught fire as it was passing Ninetieth Street. Over a thousand people died. If the captain had handled things better, fewer people would have been killed. He was sent to prison but eventually was pardoned.”

  “How do you know all this?” Chip asked.

  My grandmother told me, Georgina thought. But I can’t tell you that. I can’t tell you that except for the time I thought I was happy with Huck, the best times of my life were spent with my grandmother in this neighborhood and down by where she lived. She loved history and knew about everything that ever happened in this city. Georgina shrugged. “I heard about it once and I guess it just stuck with me. Don’t you think that captain should have been severely punished?” she asked, her voice rising.

  Chip stopped and looked at her. “I guess so. What a terrible tragedy.”

  “I just hate it when people do the wrong thing and after a while it’s forgotten and they can go on living their own life like nothing happened. Most people in New York City have never even heard of that disaster.”

  “You’re probably right,” Chip agreed. “Hey, how about that margarita? The bar is just a few doors down from here.”

  He doesn’t even care, Georgina thought. He doesn’t care about a major disaster and he wouldn’t care about what Huck did to me.

  As Chip led her down the steps to the entrance of the bar, he was hoping against hope that some of his buddies would be inside. This girl was starting to act like she was from the twilight zone. What happened to the smiling girl who loved Woody Allen films?

  The tiny bar was dark and packed. Chip called out over the crowd to the bartender. “Any chance of getting a couple margaritas?”

  “I’ll do the best I can. We are really low on ice. It’s last call.”

  “Thanks.” Chip pulled out his wallet. He was tempted to turn on his cell phone to check messages but decided against it. He was sure Rose would be insulted. She had been so intent on having him turn the phone off. A few moments later the bartender handed him the drinks in plastic cups.

  “Thanks, buddy,” Chip said, as he paid the tab.

  “Thank you. This has been fun for a while but it’s crazy in here with no electricity.”

  “I bet,” Chip said with a smile. He turned and handed Georgina her drink.

  “If they’re closing soon maybe we should order another drink to take on the road,” Georgina suggested.

  “I don’t want to hassle him again. He’s really busy. Besides, this better be my last one. I’m really starting to feel it.” Chip took a big gulp of his drink. “Why don’t we stand outside?”

  “Okay. I could use a cigarette. How about you?”

  Chip laughed. “I don’t smoke.”

  “You don’t?”

  “No. But I thought you were cute and wanted to talk to you.”

  Georgina kissed him on the cheek and squeezed his arm hard.

  In front of the bar, they sat down on the curb. Georgina put down her cup, then reached into her purse for a cigarette. As she lit up, she mumbled, “I’m really trying to quit. But I guess I wouldn’t have met you if I weren’t standing outside the comedy club smoking. So something good has come out of this habit.”

  “Sure,” Chip said, feeling antsy. He wished they were hanging out with his friends. Rose was okay to be with, he decided, but his initial attraction to her was gone. Something had clicked off. She suddenly seemed so complicated and weird. He took another sip of his drink. Within a few minutes, he’d finished his margarita. Georgina’s was basically untouched. She poured most of it into his cup.

  “What are you doing?”

  “You’re bigger than I am. If I drink as much as you I’ll get sloppy. And we don’t want that to happen, do we?” she asked coquettishly. “I’m happy with my cigarette.”

  “If you insist. It’s so hot, these are going down too easily. And I didn’t have any dinner. Nonetheless…” he said, then drained the plastic cup. “I’m going to run back inside,” he said, his voice giddy. “I have…I have to use the little boys’ room.”

  Inwardly Georgina panicked. “I’ll come with you,” she said quickly. “I have to use the little girls’ room.” She wasn’t about to let him out of her sight. “Besides, I’ll miss you too much.” She put her arms around him, reached up and kissed him on the mouth, all while removing the cell phone from his belt.

  Chip pulled away, started to stand, and almost lost his balance. “Sorry. I feel a little woozy. Those drinks were strong.”

  “You’ll be fine.” Georgina laughed as she stood up, draping her arm around his waist. “Let’s go inside and use the restrooms. Throw some cold water on your face. Then we’ll find our park bench.” She leaned her head against his chest and rubbed his back. “It’ll be so romantic.”

  “I can’t stay out too late. I just started a new job and I have to get to work early tomorrow morning. I have to be rested and on my toes…” he said, his speech slurred.

  Georgina’s anger was building. He was trying to give her the brushoff. “I’m only in New York for a couple of nights,” she said sweetly. “Stay out with me just a little while longer. I promise that before you know it you’ll be sleeping like a baby…”

  27

  The greeter at the Treetops Hotel was most surprised to see Lorraine Lily return so soon. He bowed, pretending not to notice that she was barefoot. “Have you completed your research for the evening?”

  “Actually not. It’s a long story.” Her shoes were dangling from her right hand. “One of my heels broke. I don’t suppose they keep any extra shoes around here. My luggage was lost…”

  Once again the greeter’s face assumed an agonized expression. “I’m so sorry. However, upstairs in your marble bathroom you will find a pair of terrycloth slippers, compliments of the hotel.”

  “Terrific. Do you suppose the concierge has any glue?”

  The greeter pointed to the concierge desk. “Jon is there and will be happy to help.”

  Jon was a serious young man with bushy eyebrows who looked as if he carried the weight of the world on his slight shoulders. “I’m sure we can try and reattach your heel with glue but I can’t make any promises. If you can wait until tomorrow…”

  “I can’t,” Lorraine interrupted. “Do what you can. I’ll be right back.” She hurried up to her suite and went into the softly lit, beige marble bathroom. White slippers were laid out on a white mat next to the ultramodern scale. A thick, terry cloth robe was hanging from the back of the door. It all looked so peaceful and spalike. Lorraine looked longingly at the large tub. I’d love a soothing soak, she thought, after which I could wrap myself in the robe, then place my poor aching feet in the terry cloth slippers. Slippers that were never intended for tromping around New York City. She put them on.

  If things get desperate, which they probably will, I’ll have to wear these slippers on the s
treet, Lorraine thought. At least we’re in a blackout. And we’ll be on Clay’s bicycle.

  She glanced in the bathroom mirror. Even though she looked a little tired, she was, as usual, pleased with her reflection. Lorraine knew she was a beautiful, sexy woman. She knew she had what it takes to make it as an actress. A pit formed in her stomach. She had to get those letters back. Dashing out of the bathroom, she exited the suite and took the elevator back to the lobby.

  “I’m afraid the heel is so thin that there isn’t much of a surface to place the glue,” Jon gravely informed her. “We did what we could. I wouldn’t try on the shoe just yet. You should give it time to dry.”

  “Thank you,” Lorraine said. “I’ll hope for the best.”

  “However,” the concierge continued, “we did find a pair of shoes in the closet that belong to a woman who is painting all those gorgeous flowers on the walls of our lobby bathrooms. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if you borrowed them. They are not the most stylish but they are your size.” Jon pulled the shoes out of a brown bag and held them up.

  Lorraine stared in horror at the paint-splattered, cheap brown oxfords. They were made out of what looked like a velour material and had big thick laces. “I don’t know what to say,” she stammered. “I don’t have socks, so I wouldn’t want to…”

  Jon retrieved a pair of nylon Peds from the bag. “I didn’t expect you to fall in love with them,” he said gravely, “but I don’t advise walking around New York City barefoot. And our slippers weren’t meant for the outdoors.”

  “I can’t thank you enough,” Lorraine said. “I wish that I didn’t have to go out again at all. You are so kind.”

  Jon stared at her. “Our goal at the Treetops Hotel is to go the extra mile for our guests.”

  “And you do,” Lorraine said quickly. “You all do. These shoes are just perfect.”