Back to the Fajitas

by Leena Clover

  “Macaroni & cheese with truffles, cheeseburger, fish and chips…” he declared.

  Tony and Jeet clapped their hands like kids. Tony smoothly slipped him a fiver and the man smiled.

  “I’ll bring your dessert in about thirty minutes.”

  The aroma of the food filled the room and even I couldn’t resist. I took a bite of the steaming cheeseburger before Tony could say a thing.

  “I’m not sharing!” I warned, as I picked up my pasta plate.

  Jeet had found HBO on TV and an action movie was just about to start. Pasta had never tasted so good, nor had fish or meat, judging by the boy’s reaction. The sundae the server brought in later was the largest I had ever seen, with six banana halves, about a dozen ice cream scoops and all kinds of toppings. There was a mountain of whipped cream on top of everything.

  We dug into the ice cream and ate until we began to feel sick.

  “It’s too late to call anyone now,” Tony whispered as I got up to sneak into the bathroom.

  The wall clock showed midnight and I realized he was right.

  “Who said I was calling anyone?”

  “Why are you taking your bag into the bathroom?” Tony asked.

  “It’s girl stuff. You shouldn’t ask me about such things, Tony. Bad manners.”

  “I’ve seen you buy ‘girl stuff’ plenty of times, Meera,” Tony said, sounding irritated. “You think I don’t know what you bought in that little shop? Why you made us walk all the way to the other end of the Strip?”

  “So you know.”

  I noticed the dark circles under his eyes. Maybe Tony was right and we all needed some sleep.

  “Let’s tackle this tomorrow. Please.”

  “Why are you guys fighting?” Jeet called out in a sleepy voice.

  I dumped my bag in the closet and collapsed on my bed. I was too full to sleep right away. Or so I thought.

  I was out like a light the moment my back hit the mattress. A smiley face taunted me across the streets of Vegas, following me everywhere. It stopped as I entered a big bathroom and began chanting ‘girl stuff’ in a childish voice. More smiley faces appeared next to it, and they all started taunting me. I turned and fled, running in large strides across the Strip. A few minutes later, I hit a wall, or so I thought. I looked up to see a giant Stan Miller looming over me.

  “End of the road,” he said, waving a cell phone in front of me.

  Chapter 21

  I woke up well rested. Tony walked in with coffee and croissants. Jeet stirred and sat up in bed.

  My coffee was perfect, with two sugars and just the right amount of cream. Melted chocolate oozed out of the croissant and I closed my eyes to savor the buttery, flaky pastry.

  “Are we going to the breakfast buffet?” Jeet asked, wolfing down his croissant.

  “You need to appreciate good food,” I nagged.

  “I took chai lattes to Granny’s room,” Tony said.

  He had been up for a while, judging by his appearance. He smelt of the hotel soap instead of his usual Zest bar. Wet hair curled around his neck and I realized how much Tony was a fixture in my life. I missed some of what he was saying.

  “So they’ll meet us down there, and we can discuss the plans.”

  “What?”

  “Wake up!” Tony said, tickling my feet as he sat on the edge of my bed.

  “I want to hit at least 4-5 buffets while we’re here,” Jeet said. “For breakfast, lunch and dinner.”

  “Let’s try the first one,” Tony kidded.

  The breakfast buffet was as lavish as the brochures said. Every kind of roll or baked item was on offer. There were live stations for pancakes, waffles and omelets. Quiches and frittatas vied for space with ordinary eggs and bacon. I put in an order for Eggs Benedict and lapped up the creamy Hollandaise sauce. I could have made a meal out of the different types of potatoes alone.

  “Don’t fill up on bread,” Motee Ba said. “Have you tried the crepes?”

  I had no idea how we were going to walk anywhere after all that food.

  “I hope you’ve factored in a nap,” I said to Dad as I let out a burp.

  “We’re going shopping,” Motee Ba announced. “We all need a dress for tonight’s show.”

  “For the circus?” I exclaimed.

  “Are you really going to argue over this?” Motee Ba laughed.

  I wasn’t. Sally got up along with us and I realized she would tag along. She’s got a good fashion sense so I decided I could use her.

  We walked over to Caesar’s, the adjoining casino. Sally said they had some good shops. The casino ceiling was made up of a blue sky with fluffy white clouds. It seemed so real my mouth dropped open. A show was going on somewhere and there were all kinds of stores set in a wide circle. I spotted big names. I had never been into these stores.

  “Aren’t these expensive?” I wondered.

  Add two zeroes over my usual dress budget. Motee Ba pulled me along behind Sally and I discovered how rich people shop. They just point at stuff and try it on, without looking at the price tag. I got a couple of dresses, shoes made with the softest Italian leather, a matching bag and a bottle of expensive French perfume. There must be something to the concept of retail therapy. I was on a curious high when I went back to the room with all those packages. We were meeting for a light lunch in the Bellagio Café before going for our spa appointments.

  I opened my bag to get the room key, a piece of plastic, really. I rifled through, shoving aside something stuffed in an envelope. I realized what it was as I dumped the bags on a couch and collapsed on my bed.

  I had completely forgotten all about calling Stan.

  I tore open the envelope and scratched the card for the PIN. Stan’s phone connected almost instantly.

  “Hello, Meera!” he said. “How are you?”

  “I dropped my phone the other day and there was no way to call you.”

  Stan didn’t need an explanation but I wanted him to know why I hadn’t called since yesterday. Had it been just yesterday?

  “The case is closed, Meera.”

  It was all over. That’s what Stan meant.

  “There’s a lot of loose ends,” I began. “Please, just hear me out.”

  “Go on!”

  “Did you see the note Leo wrote?”

  Stan grunted. I took that to mean yes.

  “Are you sure it’s his handwriting? What if someone else wrote the note?”

  Stan cleared his throat but didn’t say anything.

  “How do you know he took an overdose?”

  “Didn’t Tony tell you?” Stan asked. “We found him slumped over the dining table with a half empty bottle of sleeping pills. The bottle was on top of the note.”

  “Did Leo have a prescription for those pills? Where did they come from all of a sudden?”

  “They could have been Charlie’s pills,” Stan said.

  “But were they? Who were they made out to? What did the prescription label say?”

  Stan hadn’t checked the label. But he wasn’t ready to concede his mistake this time.

  “It’s not that hard to get some pills,” he said, “even in a small town like Swan Creek, unfortunately. He could have got them from someplace else too. Didn’t he just get back from a trip?”

  “Are you saying Leo planned to take his own life even before Charlie died? How could he know Charlie was dead before he got back to Swan Creek?”

  “Well, the theory is that he killed Charlie and went out of town. So he knew!”

  “And he scored the pills for what? Taking his own life?”

  “Maybe it was a backup plan? In case he was accused of murder?”

  Stan had found a way to justify why Leo had those pills.

  “You really think a young, innocent kid will take his own life?”

  “That’s the story, Meera,” Stan said. “It’s been written up in the papers. The news wires have picked it up, and it’s spreading everywhere. Some are calling it a cautionary ta
le. They are saying it’s best to stay away from troubled youth. Others are questioning the system, asking what the government is doing for these delinquents.”

  “Leo wasn’t a delinquent!”

  “Apparently he was. We finally ran him through the system.”

  I was beginning to lose my temper.

  “He was a sweet kid. He was grieving for Charlie, but he was looking forward to life.”

  “What did he have to look forward to?” Stan smirked. “Living in some group home, sleeping on the streets, or worse?”

  “No such thing, Stan. We were going to take care of him.”

  “How?”

  “Sylvie was taking him in for a while. He was going to come live with us in the fall. He had a home until he went to college.”

  Stan paused. He hadn’t seen this coming.

  “That was mighty nice of you, Meera. Guess you Patels dodged a bullet there. You’ve got old people at home too.”

  I ignored what Stan was hinting at.

  “Don’t you see? I had already talked to Leo about all this. He had a bright future to look forward to. He was going to pack his bags and head over to Sylvie’s.”

  “But he didn’t!”

  “Yes. Something happened between then and the time he died.”

  “He decided he couldn’t live with the guilt,” Stan said stonily. “That’s what happened, Meera.”

  I sighed. Stan had made up his mind.

  “Are you at least going to do an autopsy?”

  “We’ll follow the usual process, Meera.”

  That was a yes. I remembered Joyce Baker.

  “One more thing. Do you know who Joyce Baker is?”

  “Old lady,” Stan said, trying to recollect. “A bit of a nosy parker, I think. Doesn’t she live by Charlie’s?”

  “Becky talked to her. Looks like she knows Charlie’s routine very well.”

  “She spends most of her time behind that curtain,” Stan agreed. “There have been some complaints, but there’s nothing we can do. She can do whatever she wants inside her house.”

  “Joyce Baker clammed up when Becky mentioned Anna Collins. I think she’s afraid of her.”

  “Say she is. So what?”

  “She’s hiding something, Stan. I think it has to do with Anna or her son.”

  “Don’s got a bad reputation, Meera. And he lives up to it. I bet everyone around that block looks the other way when they see Don.”

  “What if Anna or her son met Charlie the day he died? Or got into a fight?”

  “You’re just grasping at straws, Meera.”

  “Anna didn’t get along with Charlie Gibson. She threatened to get even with him. Charlie put Don in jail. Maybe Don wanted revenge now that he’s out on parole.”

  “So that he can go back in? Surely he’s smarter than that?”

  “He’s a hardened criminal. That’s what you said, Stan.”

  “The case is already closed, Meera. And there’s no end to this speculation. Why don’t you enjoy your trip? You’ll be back soon enough. We can talk about this then.”

  “You’re right, Stan,” I murmured.

  Stan Miller can be bull headed. It’s hard to convince him of something he doesn’t want to see. I might fare better face to face. We exchanged some small talk and I promised to get Stan something from Vegas.

  “My room number’s 2929 at the Bellagio, just in case.”

  I went into the bathroom, trying to hold back a fresh bout of tears. The bathroom fairy had visited in my absence. All the tiny bottles had been replenished, and arranged in a systematic order. I unwrapped the little soap, lost in thought. The cold water and the scented soap anchored me a little.

  I went out and dialed the diner.

  Sylvie answered. Her voice sounded hoarse. Was it from a cold or from a lot of crying?

  “Hello Sylvie.”

  I had a sudden lump in my throat.

  “Meera! How are you, child? How is your grandma?”

  “As fine as can be, Sylvie, under the circumstances.”

  “They are saying he killed Charlie and took his own life.” Sylvie cut to the chase. “But I don’t believe it. We need you here, Meera.”

  “I just spoke to Stan,” I told her. “They have closed the case.”

  There was silence at the other end.

  “Hello? Hello?”

  Becky’s voice crackled across the line.

  “She’s crying,” Becky said softly. “How are you taking this, Meera?”

  “Not well,” I admitted. “Dad doesn’t want me to talk about it. He threw a fit yesterday. He said good riddance.”

  Becky gasped loudly. So she still believed me.

  “Tony’s on Dad’s side too,” I said grimly.

  For me, it was the ultimate betrayal. I knew Becky would feel the same.

  “It’s all over the papers,” Becky reported. “The Swan Creek Daily had a full front page story on it, and many of the bigger news papers have picked it up.”

  “Say you don’t believe it, Becky!”

  “Of course I don’t. Wait, Sylvie wants to talk.”

  Sylvie came on the line again. Her voice sounded stronger.

  “He called me from Charlie’s house that day.”

  She was talking about Leo of course.

  “Said Audrey was doing a load of laundry for him. He was coming to my place as soon as he packed a few clothes. I told him we were waiting.”

  “How did he sound?”

  “He thanked me for inviting him. He sounded relieved, Meera. And happy. No way that child was thinking about ending it all.”

  “Did you call when he didn’t turn up?”

  “That’s just it. I wasn’t feeling too good. I took some aspirin and turned in early.”

  “Did you talk to Audrey after that?”

  “I haven’t seen her since then.”

  Was Audrey Jones involved in this mess? She had been on the scene the night Charlie died. And she was the one person who had access to the house. As private as Charlie was, Audrey must have been aware of his affairs. Maybe Audrey had done away with Charlie for some reason unknown to us. Leo could have confronted her about it. She could have easily poisoned Leo, then staged it to look like he took the pills.

  I barely said goodbye to Sylvie. My mind was buzzing with all kinds of scenarios. There was a knock on the door. I smelt Sally’s perfume mixed with Motee Ba’s Chanel.

  “Meera! You ready, sweetie?”

  I let them in with a smile on my face.

  “Just a minute, Motee Ba!”

  I brushed my hair and freshened my lipstick and I was ready to go.

  “Your mother’s craving pizza,” Motee Ba said. “Does that sound okay to you?”

  Sally would probably eat one slice of pizza with a mound of salad. I would eat half a pie with more cheese on top. Stan’s words haunted me and any kind of bread with hot melted cheese sounded good to me.

  Chapter 22

  I let myself be pummeled and pounded. It was therapeutic, I had to admit. Sweet and pungent fragrances from the oils and creams assailed my senses. I had no choice but to breathe in deeply. I found myself retreating to a zone where my mind wasn’t capable of a single thought.

  We beamed at each other after our massage and facials, dressed in fluffy ivory robes, letting our feet be rubbed. Motee Ba insisted we all choose the same nail color.

  “This is the life!” she sighed happily. “I can’t wait to tell Anita.”

  Anita is my aunt, Motee Ba’s daughter. She’s a pro at this kind of thing. I had a feeling Sally was going to offer good competition.

  “I’m taking a nap after this,” Motee Ba announced.

  “There’s so much to see,” I reminded her.

  Dad and the boys had gone to watch the sharks at the Mandalay Bay aquarium. They were starting at the top of the Strip and making their way down. I wanted to go on a gondola ride at the Venetian.

  “Not today! Our show starts at 6 and we’ll go to dinn
er after that.”

  I called Becky to dish about the spa.

  “Audrey was here,” she told me, “for lunch.”

  “So she’s still spreading around the cash.”

  “Do you think she knows something about Charlie’s will? He may have left her something for all her years of service.”

  “Where is this will, Becky? Why hasn’t it surfaced yet?”

  “Maybe she’ got it. She’s just waiting for some time before showing it to anyone. Or she doesn’t know what to do with it.”

  I had a thought.

  “What’s wrong with asking her?”

  “She might not like it,” Becky warned.

  “Just ask her about the will, not the other stuff. Ask her if Charlie ever talked about a will, or if she ever saw one in that house. That should get her talking if she knows anything.”

  I hung up and took a nap. Then it was time to get ready.

  The bedside phone trilled. It was Motee Ba.

  “Eat something before you get dressed. I am ordering room service.”

  That sounded like a good idea. I ordered sandwiches for us, knowing the boys would be hungry too. When are they not?

  I relished the club sandwich and began to get dressed. I couldn’t recognize myself in the mirror. Tony’s eyes popped when I opened the door. Jeet laughed. There’s something about pricey clothes alright. The dress fell in soft folds, clinging softly to my curves without looking tight. The shoes and the bag made me look like a person I’m not.

  There was another knock on the door. Sally came in. She handed me a small velvet box. I opened it to find emerald ear rings.

  “For me?”

  She smiled.

  “I can’t accept these. They look expensive.”

  Sally smiled again and held the box out, refusing to retreat. Dad walked in and looked at me.

  “Your mother wants you to wear them tonight, Meera.”

  Well, as long as they were just a loan. I didn’t want anything from this woman. Certainly not something that was bought by her fake husband.

  Dad glanced at me again and his face melted.

  “You look beautiful.”

  The circus was something else. The exorbitant tickets were worth the price. So was all the dressing up. We all sat transfixed through the entire show. We had a dinner reservation after that and then we were all free to do what we wanted.