He was nervous and skittish. He hands were trembling with aflutter.
He departed the room, pulling the woman behind him and made his way to his car, where he put the suitcase in his trunk, started his engine and journeyed out to the middle of nowhere completely unheeded.
After that initial time, things only got easier for him. He continued fulfilling his desires at nearly every stop his occupation took him.
24.
Apparently whores are quite punctual. There’s a little fun fact for ya. Fourteen minutes after ending my phone call, in walked Gena through the front doors of the Myra Hotel. She threw up her right arm in an over-exaggerated wave in my general direction. “Hey baby! I made it!” She lowered her arm and when she got within ten yards of me, started to run towards me then jumped into my arms. Out of instinct I caught her. It was a full five second, or a fucking eternity, before I realized my hands were on her ass. I promptly let go, setting her back on the ground where she belonged. The look on Elise’s face was halfway to laughter, halfway to terror. I gave her a stupid little smirk and a shoulder shrug. “So what’s up, Buttercup?” Gena asked.
“Thank you for coming, Gena,” Elise said.
“No worries. Anything for my baby here,” Gena said as she put her hand on my upper back and rubbed it back and forth. (aids aids aids, get her off get her off!)
“Yeahhh…Anyway,” Elise continued, “we need you to do us a favor. How flexible are you?”
“Woah, this sounds like my kind of favor.”
“Gena…how flexible are you?”
“Pretty flexible, I guess. I’m not as young as I used to be though.”
“No one is,” I interrupted. “That’s not even possible to not be as young as-‘
“Archie,” Elise cut me off. “Stay on target.”
“Red Five standing by.”
“What?”
“Stay on target…stay on…nevermind. Gena. Elise and I and Mr. Mulroney here need you to try and fit into a suitcase for us.”
“Again?”
“What?”
“Oh nothing. A suitcase, huh? Sure, why?”
I explained the scenario and Gena was happy to help. We hadn’t had time to find a suitcase to use yet so we had to go into a store and get one. We were lucky and found one that looked like it matched the dimensions. Mulroney was able to talk the store owner into letting us take the floor model bag out of the store, on the promise that we would return it within the hour. He explained who he was and what the situation was, flashed her some paperwork and we were good to go. We took the empty bag back to the elevator and matched it to the picture. It appeared to be almost exactly the same size.
“Welp. You ready to give this a try?” I ask as I unzip the bag and open it up.
“Yeah, I wish I would have known what I was going to be doing. This skirt is pretty short and I’m not wearing chonies.” She laughed then winked at me.
(oh.my.god.)
“Oh wow, okay, well just…try your best,” I said.
She licked her lips and said, “Anything for you, baby.” She squatted down into the suitcase, then bent forward. “Can you zip it up?” Her words came out mumbled.
“I dunno. Let’s give it a try.” I kneeled down and grabbed the zipper. It was a little hard to move but I eventually got it fully closed. It worked and I was now one-hundred percent positive we had our man. “That’s it. I’m convinced.”
“Me too,” Elise agreed. “Can we leave her in the suitcase though?”
“Elise, come on, be nice.”
“I am being nice. You know you’re going to have to burn that suitcase. No one wants to buy luggage with herpes.”
From inside the suitcase came the muffled voice of Gena. “I don’t fucking have herpes, bitch!”
“Sorry honey,” Elise said, rather insincerely, if I do say, then turned and started to walk away. “I’ll meet you back in the office, guys.”
From inside the suitcase, “If you’re done arguing with your girlfriend, will you please let me fuck out of here. It’s all dark and shit.”
“Oh shit. Yeah. Sorry Gena!” I unzipped the bag and out she popped like fake snakes from a joke peanut can.
“It’s okay!” She smiled and wrapped her arms around me. She nodded towards Elise walking away and asked, “So what’s with her?”
“I don’t understand women. Sorry.”
25.
I gave Gena fifty bucks which she promised me would go towards a nice dinner. I could tell she was more full of shit than those bullshitty paper towel commercials that tell you ONE SHEET IS ENOUGH. Yeah, bullshit. I’m pretty sure Nice Dinner translated to her as TWO THIRTY PACKS OF BUD LIGHT. But whatever. She said she would keep in touch with me and I was actually momentarily frightened that she would keep her word. She was a nice enough old gal, I guess. Ya never know when a hooker might come in handy on a case. Haha, handy.
Elise, Mulroney and I are back in the surveillance room, the main screen paused on our suspect. I leaned back in my chair and stretched my arms out. While yawning I asked Mulroney, “Hey man, any chance we can get some Rockstars down here or something?”
“I’m not sure if we have Rockstars. I know we have Redbull.”
“Good enough, man.”
“I’ll have a waitress bring them down.”
“Great. Don’t be stingy with ‘em, either. I’m beat.’
“Yeah, me too. Keep ‘em flowing,’ Elise said as Mulroney was standing up.
“You got it.”
“Hey Mulroney,” I yelled as he was walking out the door.
“Yeah?”
“How much time do we have before your meeting with everyone?”
“One hour.”
“Okay great. We’re going to come with you.”
“Good.”
After we were all hopped up on caffeine, we had to make our way to the conference room where Mulroney, and now us, were to be taking a meeting with security, management and insurance men.
I walked into the meeting terribly underdressed. Oh well. We each took a seat and waited for the hotel manager to arrive. When he showed up he went over the current hotel’s situation. Once he was finished yapping, the insurance man began to speak.
“Gentlemen,” he said, then remembered Elise being there, quickly adding, “and woman, I apologize.” Elise nodded. He continued, “Do we have any new evidence in this accusation?”
“Actually yes, we do,” I answered.
“And who might you be?”
“I’m one of the investigators on this case. My name is Archie, this is Elise. We’ve been working with Mr. Mulroney and to a lesser extent, Detective Howard of the LVPD. We were hired by a man in our hometown to look into an accidental death that took place around the same time and place of the incident we’re discussing now.”
“I see. And what did you come up with?”
“Well, actually we’ve all but solved the case.” All eyes were on me. Of all my fears, phobias and whatnot, speaking in front of people was not one of them. Speaking one-on-one was terribly nerve-racking and difficult for me, but talking in front of a group, no sweat.
Before we arrived at the meeting we made a quick DVD copy of the surveillance video to show to these assholes. I dug into my bag, retrieved it and put it in the player in the corner of the room. On the large television flashed our man. I grabbed the remote, sat back down and continued. “This large man right here. Yeah, he did it. That’s ours guy.”
“And what made you come to this conclusion?” the insurance man asked.
I played the video and went over the story one more time with Elise and Mulroney adding little tidbits here and there. When all was said and done, I could tell the insurance man wasn’t impressed.
“Listen folks,” the insurance man said, “I understand you guys have really done your homework on this one and we appreciate it, but we have reason to believe this woman was nothing more than a hooker who got beaten up by a one of her johns.”
&nbs
p; I stood up, already enraged. “Bullshit. You don’t have any proof of that. You know goddamn well the this girl was not a—” Elise rose up out her chair and pulled me back down, telling me to cool down for a second.
“Sir, what is your name?” I asked the insurance man.
“Richard Cummings.”
I snorted a laugh and leaned back in my chair. “Shut up…Really? Cummings. Right. Well, Mr…. Dick…Cummings,” I really did try to stifle my childish giggle, but failed miserably. I look around to see if anyone else found this as amusing as I did. They didn’t. Oh well. “Here’s the deal. I understand that you’re all about the bottom line. I understand the arithmetic involved in a case like this. A settlement versus a loss versus paying our fee and still risking one of the first two. I get it. But we can prove this guy was the man. We just can’t do it for free. This hotel brings in millions every day, I can’t imagine this even being an issue for you. We prove that no one in your staff had anything to do with the attack, lowering your liability and lowering your probable settlement. But, if you want, you may continue walking around with that stick up your fat ass and go in to court with that fucking ridiculous hooker story and get laughed the fuck out of the room with your balls in the defendant’s hand. It’s really your choice. But just know this; if you do not go with us, and you choose to cut us loose, not pay us, we will go to work for free for the defendant and we’ll make it our absolute priority to fuck you as hard as possible…Dick…Cummings.”
I sat back down and Elise leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Nice tact, buddy. Good job, though. I want to catch this fucker though, so tell him we’ll work cheap.” I nodded. She totally thought his name was funny. I just know it.
“We’ll work cheap. All we ask is for all our expenses to be paid in full and for our fee we want only enough to buy seven deluxe season passes to Disneyland and a stay in the best hotel they’ve got down there. You won’t find a better deal than that.”
Cummings sighed loudly then flipped open his notebook, quickly glancing over some papers. He leaned over and whispered something to the hotel manager and they held a silent conversation for a few moments. When they concluded, the hotel manager said, “Very well, Mr. Lemons. We have a deal, but the clock is ticking. You will be reimbursed for all expenses and be paid enough to buy your…tickets. Do we have a deal?”
I started to say yes but Elise interrupted me. “Not yet, actually. We’ll also require two tickets for Tom Jones tonight across the street. I know you can get those at absolutely no cost to you. That’s non-negotiable.”
He leaned back over and whispered more into the manager’s ear. “We have a deal.”
I was all smiles. Tom motha-effin Jones!
I leaned over and whispered into Elise’s ear, “Thank you so much! Be sure to wear a skirt so you can get your underpants off easily to throw on stage.”
“I’m not doing that…Well, maybe.”
We stood up. “Gentlemen, thank you for your time. I’m pretty sure Tom Jones goes on at nine so we will work until seven thirty, then resume again first thing in the morning.”
The hotel manager spoke up again, telling us that our tickets would be at the box office will-call window. We said thanks and the three of us exited the room and headed back to the surveillance room.
“Well, that went well,” Mulroney said once the door closed.
“Yeah, not bad,” Elise said. “Now all we have to do if figure out who this guy is.”
“It’s not going to be easy,” I said. “Come on, we’ve got an hour to try and find a lead.”
We each took our seats once we got back and I had the idea to rewind the cameras twenty four hours. We had nothing to go on to find this guy. It would have been nice if the hotel had his name and phone number in their records, but they only keep email addresses and credit card numbers matched with room numbers which would make it damn near impossible to sort through and figure out who was who. My idea was to watch the elevator non-stop for the entire previous day until we spotted our guy, and then follow him as much as the cameras allowed to see if he talked to anyone, did anything unusual, anything. Anything at all that could help us pinpoint him. We didn’t get very far until it was time for Elise and I to get ready for the show. We were glad to have the break. We got up to leave and Mulroney said he would stick with it. If he spotted our guy on the camera he would send me a text. We said we’d see him first thing in the morning then made our leave.
Tom Jones was awesome!
Haha. Dick Cummings.
Classic.
26.
The sound of a phone ringing in the distance woke me from my slumber. I got out of bed and went to answer it. I was back in my house in Bakersfield, getting out of the bed I hadn’t slept a full night in since my wife passed away. The phone stopped ringing but I still walked around the house. I could hear it raining outside again. The thunder crashed loudly above me and I could hear the hard raindrops pounding on the windows. I walked in to what would have been my daughter’s room and flipped on the lights. Standing by the window watching the rain was a little girl I had never seen before but instantly knew to be my daughter.
“Honey?”
“Hi Daddy. I’m just watching closely.”
“Watching what closely, sweetheart?”
“The lights, daddy.”
“You want me to turn the lights back off?”
She giggled and it broke my sleeping heart. “No silly. The lights”
“Isabelle,” a voice called out from beyond the room. “Isabelle sweetie, it’s time to go.”
I turned around and see my wife standing in the doorway.
“Aw do we have to, mommy?” Isabelle asked.
“Yes honey, we have to.”
Isabelle lowered her head and began to pout. “Okay,” she finally said.
My wife turned to me and wrapped her arms around my waist, giving me a small kiss on the lips. “We have to go, Archie. Take care of yourself.”
I was trying to convince her to stay, beg her to stay, but nothing was coming out of my mouth. I wanted to tell her I was sorry. I wanted to spend more time with my daughter. I just stood there, completely frozen though, not making a sound. I couldn’t move and I couldn’t talk. Marianne bent over and picked up Isabella. Standing there in the doorway, my wife with my daughter in her arms, gave me one last look then turned and walked back out of my life.
I woke up silently weeping, my pillow soaked from the tears. I checked the clock next to the bed. It was almost time to get up, anyway. I laid there in the dark for a minute more, trying desperately to cling on to my dream, but soon it faded and became as incoherent as a PG-13 movie’s action scenes.
I got up and went into the common room. I would just watch television until Elise got up. I landed on a mind-numbing Christmas episode of The Maury Show. Surprise, surprise, more DNA testing. Maury Christmas, everybody!
As I actually began hearing my brain cells die, my mind wandered off to what an ideal Christmas episode of Maury would be. My eyes, still open and staring at the TV, now began to see a completely different show. Maury is sitting in his chair, the Virgin Mary is sitting next to him, crying, saying “Maury, I am 110% sure God is the father!” Meanwhile, a screen to their left projects God, sitting in the green room, split screened with the baby Jesus looking all innocently into the camera. God is yelling, “She a liar, Maury! I ain’t even sleep wit’ her, Maury! She trippin’!” God walks out on stage, yelling “You a liar, girl! You a liar!” Maury raises the manila envelope and tells us he has the DNA test right here, but first a commercial break.
Before I can find out the results, Elise snaps me from my daydream. She’s ready to go.
Mulroney had come through for us. He located our suspect getting off of the elevator the previous morning. It was now our job to follow him as much as we could. We set our grocery bag full of caffeine and snacks, which were part of our expense account, on the desk and then took our seats. We played the video and watched our
boy get off the elevator then walk around the casino floor for a little while, occasionally stopping at a machine or a table. He was dressed in a suit today. Following him proved to be rather complicated as he wasn’t following the same route our screens followed. As soon as he would exit the frame, we would have to pause the video until we spotted him again. After an hour or so of dicking around the casino floor, he made his way towards the rear of the hotel and started off down a long corridor lined with offices. He opened one of the doors and stepped inside and we lost him.
Mulroney hadn’t arrived yet so we followed our suspect’s path and made our way to the room he entered. We opened the door and discovered a large room that looked to be used for big gatherings or such. I remembered Gena telling us that large conventions were often held at the hotel. I assumed this would be where they were held. This was good. It was a lead. When we left the room two men were walking down the hallway. Elise stopped them.
“Excuse me guys.”
They both stopped and turned around. “Yes?” one of them said.
“Hi, yeah. Do you happen to know what this room was last used for?”
“Sure,” the other man said. “They use it for conferences, meetings, conventions. Stuff like that.”
“That’s what I thought. Do you know the last time it was used?”
Lemons 03 Stroke of Genius Page 12
