by Erin Huss
"Are we almost done?" Lilly pulled on my shirt. "I want to go."
"We will soon." I kissed her on the top of the head and handed her my phone, because I was a good mother like that.
"You should talk to Reena Hike. She was the onsite property manager for the McMillses right before Elder took over."
"Reena Hike," I repeated, and grabbed my phone from a pouting Lilly. "According to Google, there are several Reena Hikes. One is an author."
"That's her."
"Really?" I turned my phone around to show him the picture of Reena, a New York Times best-selling paranormal romance author. She had dark skin, purple streaked hair, and long lashes. "She writes the Zankla Books." I was reading her bio. "A fictional series about the lives of the shape-shifting Tarian people who live in an apartment building in Borbank." I looked up at Neo. "Borbank?"
"Yes. Borbank. The main character's name is Zankla, and she's the apartment manager."
Subtle.
I looked down at my phone. According to the internet, the twelfth book in the Zankla series released today, and there was a book signing event in Hollywood.
I can extend my lunch break a little longer.
It wasn't like my boss would know, since he was currently MIA.
CHAPTER SIX
Prioritizes tasks accordingly
I picked Amy up, and we drove to the book signing for Reena Hike on Hollywood Boulevard. Typically, I avoided Hollywood & Highland at all costs, especially during the summer months. There were tourists five people deep on both sides of the streets, stopping to take a picture of a star on the sidewalk. Stopping to take a picture with their favorite homeless person dressed as a superhero. Stopping to take a picture in front of the Dolby Theater. Stopping to take a picture in front of the Jimmy Kimmel studio…
Basically, there was a lot of stopping happening, and as a Los Angeleno, I was programed not to stop for anything or anyone at any time. Head down. Zero eye contact. Feet moving. There was someplace to be. And that someplace was a store called Horror Eclipse. We were fifteen minutes early, and there was already a line of people waiting outside. Most of them had blue faces and purple hair with blood dripping from their necks. I hoped this had something to do with the books.
Amy, Lilly, and I got in line. "I have never heard of Reena Hike." Amy used her hand as a fan. "And why is Lilly dressed like Captain Marvel?"
"Because why not?"
Amy inspected her nail beds. "It's peopleie out today. I need a Xanax."
"You're the one who said you wanted to come."
She shrugged. "I wasn't doing anything else."
"Also, when did you start taking Xanax?"
"When I came in third place on Celebrity Tango." She gazed over her shoulder. "All these tourists, and not one person has recognized me. Look at them." She pointed to a group of people huddled on the corner, taking pictures of the Hollywood & Vine sign. "Hi!" She waved to get their attention. "Former television star and contestant on Celebrity Tango right here."
They stared at her for a moment then continued to take pictures of the sign.
Amy gestured to the tourists, her mouth open. "See what I mean?"
"First off, they're speaking in German. I don't think they understood you. Second, everyone knows that celebrities don't hang out on Hollywood Boulevard, so they might not believe you. Third, you're wearing a baseball cap and ginormous sunglasses. I barely recognize you."
"Oh." She went to remove the hat and paused. "I can't have too much sun exposure. You know, wrinkles."
"I like your purple hair," Lilly said to the man standing in front of us.
"Thanks, kid," he said. "Which species are you rooting for?"
"Cats."
"I am for the goat shifters."
"Ohhhh, yeah, I like cats. But they make my mom pee her pants."
I laughed a kids-say-the-darnedest-things type of laugh.
"When did you pee your pants?" Amy asked.
"I don't know what she's talking about." Fine, it had happened one time, and it was only because I'd read online that you should drink a gallon of water a day, and this was before I realized my bladder was not designed to hold so much liquid. A resident came in with a cat. I sneezed, and the rest is self-explanatory.
"What are these books about, anyway?" Amy asked.
"From the blurb, they sound like a passive-aggressive ode to her former job."
There was a tap on my shoulder, and I turned around. The woman behind us had blue paint smeared on her face and a green circle in the middle of her forehead. "I couldn't help but overhear you two talking. You haven't read the Zankla books?"
"No, we're new to the genre," I said.
The woman trembled with excitement, clutching a book in her hands. "I wish I could experience the Tarian people for the first time again. I'm a book blogger and received an advanced copy from the publisher of the latest installment. It's fantastic."
"Can I see that?" Amy asked, and the woman handed over the book. "So this is basically about a manager who is running an apartment building filled with wackos in Borbank," she said, reading the back. "Sound familiar?"
"Vaguely."
"Looks pretty good, actually. I wonder if they're going to make it into a movie."
We shuffled forward as the line began to move. "They are," I said. "One of my residents is auditioning tomorrow."
"You don't say." Amy opened to Chapter One. "I stood outside the apartment building. How hard could this really be, I thought. Little did I know that I'd just signed my life away… Dang, girl, this could be your autobiography!"
"Ain't that the truth."
We moved up in line, and more blue-faced people gathered behind us.
"I'm going to get myself a copy." Amy took out her phone. "Buying the ebook right now…aaannnddd…bought. Except, crap." She frowned. "How is she going to sign my iPhone?"
Lilly tugged on the bottom of my shirt. "When are we going to get clothes for my school?"
"Today," I promised. "Once we're done."
Lilly folded her arms. "Is this about the lady who was hit in the head and put in a barrel?"
Uhhhh.
I looked at Amy, and we both shrugged. "Sure," we said in unison.
Amy leaned in. "What are you hoping to accomplish with this apartment manager?"
"More information on the roommates who lived there, the McMillses, and the barrels in the attic."
"What does Kevin have to say about all this?"
"Where is Kevin?" Lilly asked. "Me haven't seen him."
"Me either," Amy said. "Why hasn't he been over?"
I took the opportunity to inspect the sky.
"The last time I saw Kevin was the night of the finale," Amy said. "When exactly did Tom arrive?"
"I want Chase to go away forever," Lilly blurted out.
Right. Need to deal with that.
Amy looked at me. "Well, that's new."
"Yeah," I whispered. "I'm trying not to give it life."
"He needs to find another place to go," Lilly said, wagging her finger.
Amy put her mouth up to my ear. "Pretty sure it already has life."
Pretty sure she was right.
Amy bent down to be face-to-face with Lilly. "I thought you loved Chase. Why do you want him to go away?"
"'Cause I was just thinking it."
"Sure, but who put the thoughts in your head?"
"No one! I just want him to go away and not be near my mommy."
I pinched the bridge of my nose.
Amy stood. "T-O-M."
"My thoughts exactly." If Tom was using our child to carry out his plan, then he had crossed a line—again.
Speaking of a line… We finally made it inside. The Horror Eclipse had brick walls, and pictures of Michael Meyers hung around the store. A six-foot stuffed clown towered near the cash register.
"I like this place. Can you buy me clothes here?" Lilly asked.
I was not about to send my daughter to preschool wearing a shi
rt with Freddy Krueger on the front.
"Please, Momma."
"Not here."
"But I like that one." She pointed to a shirt with Elvira's face on it. "She's so fancy."
"We'll go to Target and buy you something really pretty."
"Oh, come on," Amy said. "You let your kid prance around Hollywood dressed as Captain Marvel, and you won't let her wear a shirt with the Mistress of the Dark on it?"
"I don't see the correlation."
"She can't shop at Target," Amy said, as if the very thought was absurd, when I was ninety-nine percent positive her hat came from an end cap clearance rack at Tarjay. "She'll look like every other kid at school. Here." Amy dug through a pile of kids' apparel. "I'll get you this one." She held up a black shirt with the Munsters on the front.
"Yay! Auntie Amy is my favorite."
I started to protest, mostly because I imagined Lilly in a cute dress with a big bow in her hair on her first day of school.
But, whatever.
Amy and Lilly scooted off to the register to buy the shirt while I waited. I checked my phone. Two new text messages. One from Silvia, wanting to confirm our dinner plans for Friday. The second from Patrick. Hallelujah!
Patrick: I've taken the day off. Trevor said no to the archived files.
I was relieved to know he hadn't snuck off to Mexico to avoid persecution. But bummed Trevor said no to the files. What was the point of keeping archives if I wasn't allowed to look through them when needed?
"Excuse me. Excuse me." A man wearing black lipstick stood on a chair to get everyone's attention. "I'm sorry, folks," he said, and the room fell silent. "Ms. Hike had to leave early due to an urgent personal matter. We've made arrangements for her to return tomorrow at seven p.m. I have tickets here for you. Please present yours tomorrow night, and you'll be escorted to the front of the line."
What urgent matter could Reena Hike possibly have that would take her away from her own release day book signing?
CHAPTER SEVEN
Conflict Resolution
On the way home, my phone rang. It was Chase. My car had zero Bluetooth capability, and I was forced to pull over into a 7-11 parking lot. After what had happened with Lilly, I was anxious to talk to him.
"I'm so glad you called." I plugged one ear to hear him better over the traffic. "I'm sorry about this morning."
"There's no need to apologize, Cambria. I understand."
Glad he did, because I didn't.
"But that's not why I called."
Oh.
"We haven't been able to get ahold of Patrick. Have you talked to him?"
Shoot.
"I haven't talk talked to him." I leaned against the hood of my car. Amy and Lilly were inside getting a Slurpee. "He replied to a text message."
"He hasn't replied to mine," Chase said. "What are you doing?"
"A little of this and a little of that. Do you know a Reena Hike?"
"The author who writes the Zankla series?"
"You've heard of them, too?"
"Hampton is a big fan. He listens to them on audiobooks. Why?"
"She used to manage the Burbank building. Sounds like her books are based on her time there. We tried to meet her, but she ran off on an urgent personal errand. You should talk to her."
"I'll look into it. Right now, I'm trying to find Patrick and the McMillses. Their yacht is docked, but we can't find them."
"I don't know about the McMillses, but Patrick has taken the day off."
"Convenient."
"Not really, because I have a lot of questions for him."
"I was being facetious."
"So was I." Not really. His joke went over my head, only because I was preoccupied. I really did not want Patrick to be involved in the murder.
Honestly. Could this situation get any worse?
"Silvia made us dinner reservations for Friday," Chase said. "And they want to see a movie afterwards."
I guess it could.
"I've decided to be sick on Friday," I said. "And contagious. Probably terminal."
"He's my partner, Cambria."
"And your partner's girlfriend started a rumor that I had a threesome with geriatric residents. One cancels out the other. I think it's against company policy to double date with a resident."
Note to self: Look into that.
"Please, Cambria." His voice was so soft and sincere—how could I say no?
So I went ahead and changed the subject. "I don't want Patrick to be a suspect."
"I don't either. But when he decides to go missing a day after a body is discovered on one of his properties, then he becomes a person of interest."
I was afraid he'd say that.
"What about the information on the roommates I texted you this morning?" I said. "Alvin and Sherman?"
"Do you have last names?"
"No. But how many Alvin and Shermans could there be in Burbank?"
"Over two thousand."
Oh.
"I'll see what I can do with first name and old address. We'll get to it, Cambria. I know how badly you want this solved. I do, too. Don't worry."
How could I not worry? Chase wasn't going to look at anyone else while Patrick was decidedly missing. I had no choice but to get ahold of those archives. Which meant I had to face someone I was not ready to.
The thought made me instantly nauseated.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Can easily handle difficult tasks.
…Mostly
I stood in front of Apartment 40, my stomach in knots. The television was on. I could see the flashing lights against the curtains covering the front window. Kevin had recently lost his job after a spontaneous trip to New York with me on what was supposed to be a fun get-away-from-our-problems excursion. The plan was for him to spend a few days as the third wheel with Chase and me, watch the Celebrity Tango finale. Then after Chase left, Kevin and I were supposed to sightsee for the remainder of the week.
If only the trip had gone as planned.
I knocked on the door. The television muted, and I could hear Kevin walk across his living room. I suspected he was wearing socks and underwear only. Kevin had this thing about clothing—he didn't like it.
My suspicion was confirmed when he opened the door wearing nothing but socks and underwear.
"Well, well, well, look who it is." He crossed his arms over his furry chest and smirked. Kevin McMills had auburn hair peppered with a few strands of gray, his face had strong masculine features, there was a tattoo of a snake on his arm, and he wore diamond studs in his ears. When I first started as the onsite property manager there, I considered Kevin my fortysomething man-child.
Now, we were friends.
At least we had been.
"Where's the kid?" he asked.
"With Amy back at my apartment, having dinner."
"What do you want?"
I shifted my eyes to the ground. "I need your help."
"You need my help? Haven't I helped you enough?"
"Yeah, yeah, just get it over with."
He placed a hand over his heart, feigning ignorance. "Get what over with?"
I heaved a sigh and waited.
"Oh, I suppose you're referring to the fact that you ditched me in Vegas!"
"To be fair, I left a note."
"I can't buy a plane ticket with a washed-out napkin with sorry for last night. see you back home written on it. Can I?"
"I wasn't going to pay for your plane ticket anyway. And it was your idea to leave New York early and extend our layover in Vegas."
"Yes, but it was your idea to visit the strip club, and that's when everything went to hell."
Strip club? "We didn't go to a strip club."
"Yes, we did. Right after we left the bar at Circus Circus."
Oh, right.
The night came back to me in waves of humiliation…Magic Mike, flamenco dancers. At one point there was a chimpanzee. Oh, geez. I'd given up drinking the night Tom and I accidentally made
Lilly. Horrible decision makers like me should not be allowed near fruity alcoholic beverages.
"OK, I am sorry," I finally said.
"I lost my job over this trip, and you were a total downer the entire time."
"I said I'm sorry."
"You're not going to start crying again, are you?"
"No, but can you really blame me?"
"Yes!" Kevin jammed his pinkie into his ear and gave it a jiggle, then pulled it back to inspect his findings. "Have you seen him since you got back?"
"If you mean Tom, then no. I haven't."
"Have you talked to Chase?"
"Not about…it, no. I've been busy. We found a dead woman in the attic at the Burbank building."
Kevin blinked. "Why the hell didn't you lead with that?"
"Because I figured you'd want to get mad at me first."
"You're no fun to get mad at when you're agreeable. I don't like it."
"You're an idiot."
"Thank you! I like feisty Cambria way more than my-life-is-ruined-so-I'm-going-to-cry-about-it-for-three-days-straight-and-drink-until-I-pass-out-in-a-pool-of-my-own-vomit-in-the-middle-of-a-wedding-chapel Cambria."
"You promised to never tell that story."
"And I haven't." He jerked his head, and I stepped into his apartment. Kevin had the same floor plan I did, with the spacious living room, attached square kitchen, and little dinette area. The first time I saw his place, the walls were covered in newspaper clippings. The carpet had been ripped out and replaced with scuffed, black rubber flooring. Blue and pink swirls were spray painted on the ceiling with a disco ball mounted in the center. All the kitchen cabinet doors were missing, and there was a seventies-inspired yellow refrigerator wrapped in a heavy chain with the words Live Explosives written in Sharpie across the front. But that was back when he was on drugs.
Now, it looked pretty much the same, minus the refrigerator. He'd taken off the chain.
Also, he had a snake.