by Gina LaManna
I grunted in disgust, told him to go away again, and waited for Vivian to unearth the piece of paper from between her jiggling breasts.
“I just wanted to keep it safe,” she explained.
“Great spot,” I said.
The letter had makeup sprinkled on it—smudges of foundation, blotches of lipstick and mascara smears. It was crumpled and a bit sweaty, but the block letters were depressingly familiar. Typed in plain black font on plain white paper, probably not traceable even if we had the time, were the words: WEDDING MUST HALT IF YOU WANT TO SEE KIKI ALIVE AGAIN.
“Who knows she’s called Kiki?” I asked. “Either this person knew her or did some very thorough research. And neither is a good option.”
“Psh, everyone knows she’s called Kiki,” Joey said. “It’s obvious. Probably on her driver’s license.”
“No, that would be Katie,” said Vivian.
“Or Kathryn, or whatever her real name is,” I added.
In unison, Joey and Vivian looked at me in confusion.
“How long have you actually known her?” I asked. “Do you even know her real name?”
“’Bout two months,” Vivian said. “She was a bartender at a nice place. Real nice. They serve two dollar PBR’s every Tuesday.”
“And why did you pick her to be in the wedding?” I asked.
“Because I kept the same wedding dates as when I was gonna marry him,” Vivian pointed an accusatory finger at Joey. “And I didn’t want the same maid of honor. Well, I couldn’t, ’cause of the fact that it was Joey’s sister.”
“I see,” I said. “My apologies.”
“Yeah, thanks,” she said. “If it weren’t for Joey, none of this would’ve happened.”
“No,” he retorted. “If you hadn’t married the stupid banker, none of this would’ve happened.”
“I haven’t married him yet.” Vivian stood and walked towards Joey and soon they were arguing nose to nose. “Which should be obvious.”
“I’ve noticed,” he said. “Believe it or not.”
“You don’t notice anything,” she spat. “You never did. That’s why we had to break up. You stopped noticing me.”
“Stop it, you two.” I stepped between them. “Vivian, you’re getting married today, so forget about Joey. Joey, just shut up. You shouldn’t even be here.”
The two stared at each other, shoulders rising and falling with angry breaths. Anthony sauntered over and stood between them. “Problem, ladies?”
Joey glared at him.
“Vivian found this on Kiki’s bed,” I said. “It looks like we might have to postpone the wedding.”
“We have to. I need Kiki by my side,” Vivian pleaded.
Nobody agreed or disagreed, we all just silently found other places to look.
“We’ll find her,” Anthony said, his voice flat. “I’m going to send a man up here to watch you get ready for the ceremony, as I have a few things to attend to.”
He turned and stalked away from the room. The air became silent and still, and suddenly whatever they’d been fighting about seemed irrelevant. Joey led Vivian to his bed where they sat like an old married couple, his arm around her shoulders, her head resting on his chest.
I wandered over to the window to think. I needed to clear my mind and put everything into perspective. Who was the kid working with? Or was it somebody else entirely? Had I been wrong about everything?
I massaged my temples and quickly changed out of my sweatshirt into a thin tank top. I wasn’t in the mood to wear a sleeve with someone else’s snot on it. After pulling on the tank, I paced back and forth in front of the window, the sun’s rays warming me nicely from the outside in. I let my mind wander for...I don’t even know how long. Staring at the expansive green lawn before me, trees surrounding the averagely manicured lawn, I was jolted from my gaze at the sight of an orange blur bobbing in my peripheral vision.
“Hey, Viv, you okay?” I asked without looking back. “When did Joey leave? Listen, I’ve been thinking...”
The room behind me was quiet, except for Vivian’s sniffles every few moments.
“I’m here.” Joey’s voice startled me. “I haven’t left.”
I looked back at the window, and the splotch of reddish-orange tottered into view again. But it certainly wasn’t Joey. It was him. It was the killer.
Chapter 9
“IT’S HIM. HE’S HERE!” I started to run towards the door, but made it only to Joey’s bed before I stopped and took stock. Well, at least I took a deep breath. This perp was clever, and I needed to be the same. I couldn’t run out screaming like a chicken with my head cut off, for multiple reasons. The main one being he was much faster than me, I was willing to bet.
I slowly crept back to the window and peered through the curtain. Alfonso was sitting at a picnic table off in the corner, a hoodie pulled up over his hair. He looked like any other 15-year-old child ironically trying hard to look the part of a slacker. I watched for a few moments while letting my brain slow cook a plot. An idea was unraveling in my mind, layer by layer, like a three-tiered wedding cake. I’d eventually call Anthony, but I needed to get started on said plan, stat.
Alfonso shifted his eyes around every few moments, taking stock of those surrounding him, but the only people in sight were small children who had been dragged to the wedding by their overtired parents who couldn’t or didn’t want to pay for a babysitter.
The children ran around screaming, sprinting up the slide on the small, out of the way playground before crashing back down. They threw balls at one another and played a game that looked suspiciously like Red Rover. Alfonso kept shrinking further into his sweatshirt, his hands shoved in his pockets and his scowl growing deeper with each shriek from the children.
None of the parents said anything to the kids as they ran and screamed and giggled during their games. In fact, the parents paid their kids little attention, probably hoping that they’d run themselves around and get so tired they’d sleep right through the ceremony.
A ceremony that wouldn’t happen if I didn’t find Kiki.
“Stay here,” I instructed Vivian and her ex. “I have work to do. I think I have a lead on Kiki.”
Vivian nodded, wide-eyed. “I knew there were rumors of you being Carlos’s new wild card, or golden child, or whatever, but I had no idea you worked this quickly. Even Anthony hasn’t found anything.”
“I haven’t done anything yet,” I said. “And Carlos hates me.”
“Didn’t you find that fifteen million dollars of flour for him?” she asked.
“Yeah, I guess...I had some help.” I blushed, not used to praise of any kind. It wasn’t like I could brag about my job on first dates, and the Family wasn’t notorious for handing out pats on the back or even the odd word of encouragement.
“Well, I’m sure you can do this,” Vivian said. “Find her.”
“All right,” I said, oddly touched by Vivian’s confidence, unfounded or not. “Thanks a lot.”
“’Cause I can’t stand two more seconds of this man trying to interrupt my wedding.” Vivian lightly punched Joey on the shoulder, but there was no real emotion behind it. She was clearly distracted by Kiki’s absence.
I grabbed the hotel notebook and a pen and hightailed it out of that room, just in case they lapsed into another heated argument.
Once in the lobby, I sat at a table and quickly scrawled out a message. I crossed it out nine times, my writing looking like chicken scratch. Eventually I gave up and approached the front desk manager. “Can I use the computer and printer for a second? I just need to print one quick sheet.”
“No.” The manager was short and twerpy, his wire-rimmed glasses making his large eyes look like golf balls.
His bow tie was fastened so tight I worried it might be constricting his air flow, especially as his voice was so high and yippy. He sounded like the human cousin of a Chihuahua.
“Why? I’m a guest here.” I crossed my arm and thumbed towards the sign
that said Business Center, Complementary Computer Usage for Guests.
“Sure. Use the computer, but no printing.”
“Why not?” I leaned closer.
“Because the other man from your wedding party printed and dashed off without paying. I’m not taking that risk with any of your lot.” He said your lot as if we were a pack of wild, rabid dogs.
“Oh, my goodness. What did he short you, a dollar?” I rolled my eyes.
“Thirty cents. It was supposed to be two pages, but he messed up the word wedding and needed a third.” The guy cracked his knuckles menacingly. “It was a lucky thing that banker stopped by to use the printer, too. He left a big enough tip to cover everything.”
“Banker—you must mean the groom? Wonder what he needed to print...anyway, I’ll tell you what.” I leaned forward, knuckles on the counter as if negotiating with a dangerous drug dealer who was armed to the teeth. It was the same tactic, really—show no fear. “I will pay you a dollar in advance to cover whoever shorted your printing costs. Take an additional ten cents for my sheet, and then we’ll call it even. Keep the change.”
He considered it, biting the tip of his thumbnail and eyeing me up and down.
“Fine,” he agreed. “But I’m the one that hits the print key.”
“Deal.” I raised my hand to shake his. “Glad we could come to an agreement.”
He solemnly shook my hand. “Good doing business with ya.”
I typed up my letter, asked him to hit print, and watched as he sneakily slid the dollar into his back pocket when he thought nobody was watching, instead of putting it in the cash drawer where it belonged.
“I saw that,” I called over my shoulder.
The clerk turned bright red. “Don’t tell nobody, all right? Just supplementing the coffee habit.”
“What? There’s free coffee right there.” I gestured towards the towers where three types of joe were prominently on display.
“Not the kind with the steamed milk,” he whispered secretively. “The good stuff isn’t free.”
“All right, fine,” I said. “By the way, whose ass did I cover with the dollar? I’m gonna give him a hard time at the wedding.”
“Sorry, confidentiality issues,” he sniffed. “I don’t know how you’d use that information.”
“What? I just told you how I’m gonna use it.”
“Can’t do it,” he said. He rolled his eyes with a majestic motion. “All I can say is that it’s someone who thinks weeding and wedding are spelled the same way.”
“All right then, thanks so much for your help,” I said. I patted the counter, took my sheet of paper, and folded it in half. I proceeded outside to implement phase two of the plan.
As I pushed through the glass doors to the courtyard out front, I had the fleeting thought that I should wait for Anthony and his expertise before confronting the killer. As usual, I didn’t listen to my conscience. After all, the kid was a wily one, and I couldn’t let him get away again. Plus, I wanted to redeem my embarrassment for losing him, at least a little bit.
I slunk around the corner, the screams of the children growing louder with every step. I spotted Alfonso looking very emo on his picnic table off in the corner all by himself. If possible, he’d retreated even further into his sweatshirt.
I looked for a child to kick off phase two of my plan. There was a large, rather chunky kid sitting against the wall, not playing any games. He was digging for the last morsel in a bag of Cheetos that looked like it’d been empty for a while. I took stock of his cheesy fingers, which oddly matched Joey’s skin color. I knew instantly he was the one.
I did a low whistle until he glanced up, crumpling the bag in his chubby fingers.
“What you want?” he asked gruffly.
Eeeek—he was not a happy camper.
“Yo, buddy. I’ll give you five bucks if you deliver a message for me.” I nodded at the crumpled bag in his hand. “You could buy a family size bag of Cheetos from the front desk and a pack of Skittles.”
The kid scrunched up his face, his chubby cheeks nearly overtaking his eyeballs in the expression.
“What sort of a message?” he asked.
“It’s a game I’m playing with a friend. It’s this piece of paper.” I waved the folded printer paper like he was a puppy and I was offering a tantalizing treat. “Family size bag of Doritos.”
“You said Cheetos. They got Cheetos?” he asked.
“You bet.”
“And where do I gotta take that message?”
“That picnic table.” I nodded at the bench where Alfonso was trying to murder a poor, unsuspecting piece of grass with a thunderous gaze.
“What’s your name?” The kid crossed his arms.
I crossed mine back. “Uh, uh. This is a top secret operation. It’s better if we don’t do names.”
He looked me up and down seriously. “Hmmph.”
“So?” I asked. “Otherwise, I can just ask one of your friends here.” I craned my head as if searching for another candidate.
“I’ll do it.” He stomped over. “Who do I say it’s from?”
“It’s all in the note.” I handed over the fiver. “And I was never here.”
I stealthily stepped back into the building where I could watch my chubby protégé stomp across the lawn, slap the paper on the picnic table, and then flip Alfonso off when the angsty killer shouted after the kid.
“Nice,” I mumbled under my breath. “Absolutely beautiful.”
My new friend continued his stomping trail inside and straight to the concession stand where he began to barter with the nickel-and-dimer Printer Nazi. I almost wished I could be around to see this epic battle. I imagined my two new friends would be haggling for a while.
But alas, my plan to catch a killer wouldn’t be waiting around for anyone. I hurried into the pool area where the next step of my plan would play out. I slipped into my sports bra and spandex booty shorts and wrapped a white towel around my body, tightly securing all of the lady bits, even though I’d left my bottom layer on.
I grabbed an extra towel for padding and glanced around the room, trying not to look suspicious. However, I was the only one around, as it was way too early in the morning for anybody on a holiday to want to wake up. I didn’t blame them; the last thing I’d want to do on a vacation was jump in an unheated pool at eight in the morning.
Instead, I bee-lined for the sauna and set up shop. I’d be waiting here for a bit, so I wanted to get comfortable. My seat consisted of the warm, wooden bench and a fluffed up towel. But the fluffed up towel was working double duty. Not only did it hide the waist cinch I’d removed from my bathrobe, but it was also placed strategically over my cell phone, so an unsuspecting guest wouldn’t notice either of the lumps under my towel.
And then I sat down to wait.
After a few minutes, I realized something was missing. The sweet smell of damp wood and rising steam wasn’t wafting over my body and singeing the tiny hairs in my nostrils. In fact, there was no warmth in the cozy little room at all. I popped outside the sauna and checked the thermostat. Duh. The sauna wasn’t on.
I leaned over, careful not to expose any extra skin, and cranked the dial up a few notches. Unfortunately, the dial was oddly placed on the outside of the sauna, so I had to shuffle around the glass door in order to make sure I’d gotten the temperature just about perfect.
Sitting back down, I impatiently tossed some water onto the rocks. Of course there was a sign that said DO NOT THROW WATER ON ROCKS, but I considered that more of a guideline than a firm, hard rule. Plus, nobody was looking, and it was a little nippy in the morning air with only a bra, shorts, and towel to cover up my skin. And I didn’t want to poke my culprit’s eye out with my girls, if you know what I mean.
I sat back down to wait some more.
Three minutes passed, and by this time I was cooking nicely. The temperature was pushing a hundred, and I had a nice layer of sweat sheen on my skin. I was just about to open
the glass door to turn down the temp a bit when a skinny white arm reached for the knob.
As stealthily as possible, I crept back and slid towards the side of the sauna, so he couldn’t see me in the dim light. At least not until he’d fully entered the room. My heart pounded and my temperature rose even higher than I thought possible as the kid gazed around uneasily, but luckily for me, he started his sweep of the room on the opposite wall. By the time his eyes reached me, he’d stepped inside of the room and let the door close quietly.
He jumped when I spoke. “Hello, again.”
“You?” Alfonso leapt to the other side of the sauna.
I reached my hand to the outside of the door where there was a lock. I flipped it to horizontal and then slammed the door shut, locking us both inside with no way out. Yes, it was a personal sacrifice to lock myself into a steaming room with a teenager, but I wasn’t totally an idiot. I’d brought my phone in here for a reason.
I gave a smile that I imagine could’ve been described as slightly evil. Alfonso shrunk against the corner, his lanky frame nearly translucent in the dim light. As per the instructions on my handy dandy note delivered by Cheetos-man, he’d worn nothing except a towel around his waist—well, I suspected there was nothing underneath, as that had been the instructions.
He was so thin I could see his ribs as clearly as if they were a xylophone, and I noticed that the freckles didn’t stop on his face. He had a single chest hair that was a reddish orange and weirdly curly. His hair stuck up at odd angles, and his eyes flashed pale blue in a partially confused, partially terrified expression.
“Relax,” I said. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Why’d you lock us in here? And why’d you tell me to come here naked? You lied!”
“Of course I did. You lied when you said you’d wait patiently in my bathroom—”
“I never said that—”
“Of no matter. I asked you to undress, except for the towel, because that’s proper attire for a sauna, first of all.” And more importantly, I thought to myself, Alfonso won’t enjoy running through a Family wedding where everyone would be present—including Carlos—with his ding dong dangling around.
