Murder with Strings Attached

by Mark Reutlinger

  I laughed. “Well, not the same car, but we do have a car. I’ll explain later. And yes, I’m sure we’ll be glad to come and pick you up.” I looked over at Sara, who nodded her approval.

  “Great! I’ll wait out front, Terminal 1, where the taxis and such pick people up. What kind of car are you driving?”

  This was a more difficult question than Aaron realized. We had been through so many cars in the past few days, at the moment I couldn’t remember exactly which one we were driving, despite having just been riding in it.

  Sara came to my rescue.

  “A BMW convertible,” she said into the phone. “White, with red upholstery.”

  Of course she’d remember that. Highlight of her trip so far.

  Aaron chuckled. “You girls go first class. Fine with me. I’ll see you in about an hour, okay?”

  “We’ll be there,” Sara said enthusiastically, and she hung up the phone.

  I looked over at Sara, who was all smiles. “Does this mean you’re still in?”

  “I guess so,” Sara said. “Now that Aaron’s back, we’re finally getting to the good part.”

  ****

  It was about forty minutes after we returned from the airport before Aaron, who had retired to his suite to freshen up, finally made an appearance. He knocked on the door of 507 and this time I was the one who opened it.

  “It’s that violinist again,” I called back to Sara. “You know, the one they tried to foist on us when we ordered a cellist. Should I let him in?”

  Sara’s face became thoughtful as she considered the matter.

  “I suppose so. They’re probably still out of cellists.”

  I smiled and stepped back, bowing a bit and sweeping Aaron into the room.

  Aaron settled himself on the sofa with a contented sigh.

  “Want anything to drink from the minibar?” I asked. “It’s expensive, but it’s on the guy who’s paying for this place, so don’t worry about it.”

  Aaron laughed. “In that case, I’ll have a beer. And help yourself, of course.”

  I did, handing bottles of beer to Aaron and Sara and taking one myself.

  The formalities having been observed, I got down to business.

  “Do you want to hear what we’ve been doing since you left us?”

  “Of course. But first I have something here for you guys.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew two small packages, ivory-colored bags tied at the top with thin red cord. He handed one to each of us.

  This was unexpected, and a bit exciting. “What are these?” I asked, feeling the soft texture of the bag in my hand.

  “Open it and see.”

  Sara and I both opened our bags, and almost simultaneously drew a sharp breath on extracting the contents. Each of us was holding a delicate gold chain on which was suspended an exquisite little replica of a violin, fashioned in 24-carat gold.

  “It’s lovely,” Sara exclaimed, her eyes wide.

  “Beautiful,” I added. “But why…”

  “Just because,” Aaron said, obviously pleased at our reaction. “A guy can’t go away on a trip and not bring something back for his favorite two ladies.”

  “But where did you find them?” I asked. “They’re perfect.”

  “I had a few hours between rehearsals, so I took a stroll on Wilshire Boulevard. I passed a little jewelry shop and saw these, or actually one of them, in the window. I had been meaning to find something to bring back for you, but all I’d seen was the usual souvenir crap, and I didn’t have time to really go shopping. When I saw the tiny violin, I thought what a perfect way to symbolize our little enterprise; but of course I needed two of them.” He looked over at Sara, who blushed a little.

  “I went into the store and asked the clerk if they had a second one. He went and got the owner, who said they only had the one, but he could get another for me by the next day. So I paid for both and had him deliver them to my hotel. They arrived just before I left. Now put them on. I want you to wear them for the rest of our adventure; that is, if you like them well enough.”

  I looked at Sara, who was already fitting her violin around her neck, and said to Aaron, “We love them. Here, help me put mine on.”

  I went over to Aaron and handed him the chain ends, showed him what to press to open the clasp, and standing almost against him, turned around so he could slip the violin over my head and fasten the clasp. I admit I felt a little chill go down my spine when his hands brushed the back of my neck, which was strange because his hands were quite warm.

  “But what about you?” Sara asked. “We can’t have the three musketeers with only two…two…muskets.”

  Aaron laughed. “That occurred to me, but I can’t exactly wear a necklace; or if I can I’d rather not. But that’s okay, because remember I have the real violin. Or I will have it when we take it back. So it works out perfectly: You two have the models, and when we complete our mission I’ll have the original and it will sort of close the circle.”

  I thought about that and decided I liked the symbolism.

  “Works for me,” I said, and I put my arms around Aaron and gave him a big thank-you kiss. Sara came over and did the same. Aaron clearly felt he had been more than rewarded for his gifts. He hadn’t mentioned what they had cost him, which must have been at least a thousand dollars. He probably wondered at that moment what he might have received in gratitude if he had.

  Chapter 24

  Once Sara and I had tucked our new necklaces into our blouses and Aaron had resumed his seat on the sofa, we took chairs opposite him and I steered the meeting back to business.

  “Okay, now shall I tell you what we’ve been up to?”

  “Absolutely,” Aaron said. “Right from the beginning to picking me up at the airport.”

  I described in detail everything important that had occurred, including the comings and goings of Sanders, his employees, and the cleaning crew.

  Aaron asked a few questions, but mostly he just listened, nodding at the appropriate times and shaking his head in disbelief at others. When I had finished, he said, “I think we should let this rest for today, and tomorrow, when everyone’s fresh, you can tell me where we go from here, kind of lay out the plan. That okay?”

  Sara and I nodded. “That’s fine,” I said, “but we really have to get started in earnest tomorrow. We have to show up at Sanders’ place next Thursday morning without fail.”

  “No problem,” Aaron assured me. He glanced at his watch. “Meanwhile, it’s almost seven. Let’s go downstairs and have dinner. I’ll make a reservation and pick you up in a half hour, okay?”

  That sounded fine, and we readily agreed. Aaron stood up and made his way to the door. Both Sara and I met him there and gave him a group hug, so that he likely was feeling quite warm when he finally reached the hallway and headed for the elevator.

  The temperature in our suite was elevated as well. As soon as the door closed behind Aaron, we both pulled out our new necklaces and admired them.

  “These must have cost him a fortune,” Sara remarked. I knew a thing or two about the value of jewelry, and agreed.

  “What a doll,” Sara continued. “I sure hope we can get him his violin back.”

  I agreed with that also. And I noted that Sara, who only a few hours earlier had seemed on the verge of abandoning us and going back to Seattle (which I would have considered quite justified), seemed now to be fully invested in the enterprise. Maybe she felt she couldn’t abandon Aaron after taking his expensive gift. Whatever the reason, Aaron’s reappearance had clearly sealed the deal.

  The troops were in line and ready for battle.

  ****

  Half an hour later, Aaron picked us up and we made our way to the Tonga Room.

  “This time,” I said to Sara as we waited to be seated, “we’ll have Aaron to protect us if any guys try to pick us up.”

  “Pick you up?” Aaron said. “Where?”

  “When we were here the other evening,” I said.


  “I see. I guess that just shows I can’t leave you girls on your own. Flirting with guys in fancy restaurants…”

  “We weren’t flirting,” I insisted. “We were just sitting and minding our own business. This is flirting.” I batted my eyes theatrically and gave Aaron a “come hither” look in my best imitation of Mae West.

  Aaron laughed. “I thought flirting was supposed to attract guys, not scare them off.”

  I gave Aaron a friendly shove. “I guess it all depends what you’re attracted to,” I said.

  Before Aaron could tell me what he was attracted to, the maître d’ came over and said our table was ready.

  ****

  Once the three of us were seated and had ordered dinner, Sara and I insisted Aaron tell us all about his adventure in Los Angeles. He regaled us with some of the more interesting features of his engagement there, including some amusing anecdotes about backstage mishaps. He was looking around the restaurant when he suddenly became more serious.

  Turning to look earnestly at Sara and me, he said, “Listen, there’s something I want to tell you, something that might possibly pose a problem for our enterprise.”

  I sure didn’t like the sound of that. “So what did you do, confess to the cops and throw yourself on the mercy of the court? Or did you discover that you had the real violin after all?”

  Aaron didn’t seem amused. “No, no, nothing like that. It’s actually a little hard to explain.”

  “Well, now that you’ve started—”

  “Yes, of course. I was going to tell you later, but it turns out this is the best time to do it. It’s like this: Don’t look now, but there’s a young woman sitting over there next to the philodendron.”

  Of course, both Sara and I had to look, although we tried to be discreet about it. Sitting next to a tall green plant was a young woman sipping a dark red colored drink and looking in our general direction. She appeared to be in her very early twenties. Long blond hair framed a girlish but attractive face.

  “That’s a dracaena, not a philodendron,” Sara said after she had turned back around.

  “Are you sure it isn’t a rubber plant?” I asked.

  “Will you please stop debating the plant,” Aaron said more loudly than he probably intended. “I’m talking about the woman, not the plant!”

  “Okay, tell us about the woman,” I said. “Good-looking gal; a little young for you, though.”

  “That’s the point. Or rather, it’s not exactly the point, but it’s part of the point.”

  “You’re not making any sense,” I said. “First you have us look at a potted plant, then you tell us the point is the woman next to the plant, and then she’s only part of the point. Maybe you should start at the beginning.”

  Aaron rolled his eyes upward, made what appeared to be a short silent prayer for strength, and began:

  “The young woman’s name is Jennifer Logan. I met her at the airport when I arrived in L.A. last week, while I was waiting for my suitcase. She was kind of wandering aimlessly around the baggage claim area looking lost, and I asked if I could help. She said her luggage hadn’t arrived, and she didn’t know what to do about it. It was only the second or third time she’d ever taken a plane and the first time her luggage hadn’t shown up. Well, I’ve lost my share of luggage—that is, the airlines have lost their share of my luggage—over the years, and I know the routine pretty well.”

  “So you played Sir Galahad and helped her find her luggage?” Sara asked.

  “You might say that. Only we didn’t find the luggage, at least not right then. I showed her where to go to report the missing suitcase. A little while later she came back and said that they told her it had been located but was in some godforsaken place like Nome, Alaska, or maybe it was Timbuktu, but wherever it was, it would take until the next day to show up.

  “I thought that was the end of the matter. But then she starts to cry and I ask what’s wrong and she says all of her clothes and most of her money are in the suitcase and she has nowhere to stay overnight until the suitcase arrives and…well…”

  “Don’t tell me,” I said, “that you offered to pay for her hotel room or something.”

  “More the ‘something,’ I’m afraid,” Aaron said, and now he was looking decidedly sheepish. That wasn’t a good sign.

  “I’m almost afraid to ask,” I said. But of course I had to. Or more accurately I didn’t have to. Aaron hesitated a few seconds before answering.

  “Well, I invited her to stay with me at my hotel overnight. Just until she could get her suitcase the next day. I had an extra day before my first rehearsal, and she seemed so…so…needy.”

  “I see,” I said. “At least I think I see where this is leading. So did you sleep with the girl?”

  “Flo,” Sara interjected before Aaron could answer. “That’s none of our business. If Aaron wants to—”

  “I have a feeling it is our business,” I said, “or Aaron wouldn’t be telling us this story, and he certainly wouldn’t look like he’d just eaten that cookie his mother told him to leave for after dinner.”

  In fact, Aaron’s features had now changed from sheepish to outright guilty, with a large dose of miserable. He nevertheless soldiered on.

  “Let’s just say she and I shared some intimate moments and leave it at that.”

  “Were these ‘intimate moments’ in bed, by any chance?”

  Sara again interrupted before Aaron could respond, assuming he was going to respond. “Flo! What difference does it make?”

  “Look,” Aaron said, “it was late, we were both tired, she was scared. I was just comforting her. If you must know, we didn’t…do what you’re thinking. We were in bed together, yes, but I was so tired from the long day and the flight, I just fell asleep before it became an issue. In fact, she probably thought I was gay or something, because I didn’t try anything.”

  At this I’m afraid I rolled my eyes. “But you would have if you hadn’t been so tired,” I said, and Sara kicked me under the table. Maybe justifiably.

  “The point is,” Aaron continued, ignoring the question, “that what I considered a passing moment and a good deed she apparently considered more…more meaningful. The next morning they delivered her suitcase, we parted, and I assumed that would be the last I’d see of her.”

  “So the fact that she’s over there by the potted palm, or whatever the hell it is, isn’t just an odd coincidence?” Sara said.

  “I’m afraid not. She showed up in the audience at each of my performances in L.A. and each time tried to get backstage to see me after the recital. I refused to see her, figuring she’d get discouraged.”

  “Apparently not,” I said, taking another furtive glance at Ms. Logan.

  “No. And now here she is. I don’t know how she knew where I was going, or how she managed to get here herself so quickly, but, well, here she is.”

  “So what you’re telling us is that you’re being stalked by a lovesick and very determined would-be groupie.”

  “Yes, I guess that sorta sums it up. I’m not concerned about the fact that she’s following me. I mean, it could be a nuisance at some point, but I figure if I keep avoiding her, she’ll eventually give up—or run out of money to fly everywhere I do.”

  “Unless she gets violent,” I offered.

  “She really doesn’t strike me as the violent type.”

  “Hmmm” was all that I responded. Looks could be deceiving, although I had to admit she did look like she would make an unlikely serial killer.

  “Anyway, what I’m concerned about is that if we’re going to be engaging in…in questionable activities, as we’ve discussed, the last thing we need is someone watching over our shoulder, or even at a distance.”

  I looked at Sara, and for a moment neither of us said anything. I just raised my eyebrows. Then Sara said, “I see what you mean. I’d be nervous enough just going through with the plan. I certainly wouldn’t want to be doing it under observation.”

  As for
me, I was already deep in thought. I quickly came to a decision. “No, you’re right,” I said to Aaron. “We have to find a way to discourage your little friend without arousing her suspicion that there’s something we don’t want her to know.”

  “Any ideas how we can do that?” Aaron asked.

  “I’m thinking. I’m thinking.” I sat and thought while Aaron and Sara looked at me and tried to avoid looking in the direction of Jennifer Logan, who had by this time finished her dark red drink and was starting on what appeared to be a latte.

  It was at least five minutes of strained silence before I finally said, to no one in particular, “What we have to do is discourage her from following Aaron. That means either grab her and stuff her in a suitcase, or threaten her with grave bodily harm if she doesn’t take the next flight home, or somehow change her mind about wanting to follow—or talk to, or sleep with—Aaron.” I looked at the other two and concluded, “I take it we’d rather keep things nonviolent, which means making Aaron less desirable in her eyes. Correct?”

  Aaron and Sara nodded in agreement.

  “Okay, then, there are a few ways we can make Aaron seem less attractive to her. One, we could change his appearance from being the irresistible hunk he is to something more ordinary, more mundane.” I indicated this choice by raising my index finger. But I’m sure they could tell from the way I said it that this was not meant as a serious suggestion.

  “No,” Sara­ said with a straight face, “it’d be like defacing the Mona Lisa. Unthinkable.”

  “Very funny,” Aaron said.

  Good line. I smiled and continued, raising a second finger, “Two, Aaron could confront her and tell her to get lost, maybe insult her a bit and send her away crying. She’d go home and find another celebrity to bother.”

  Aaron was shaking his head before I finished.

  “I’m sorry, but I just can’t do that. She’s really a very nice girl, and I couldn’t treat her that way. I don’t think I could treat anyone that way, but especially someone like Jennifer. I mean, it’s not her fault we’re planning something illegal—”