by Deany Ray
I looked at my watch. We’d been there thirty minutes.
Marge was humming to herself and flipping through a magazine. She called out periodic updates about which movie star was secretly in rehab or had caught another star off guard with a devastating breakup.
“All those movie stars are crazy,” Celeste said. “Why do you read that trash? Some writer probably makes half of that stuff up.”
“You think?” Marge asked, surprised. “That would be a fun job, to make up stuff about the stars.” She turned another page. “Maybe I should have brought a book on how to fix computers.”
“We all need to study that,” I said.
I picked up one of the magazines that she was finished with. This one was called Beauty for the Modern Woman. I read about the perfect lipstick colors for my complexion, and found out which ones lasted longer as you went about your day.
Celeste studied her nails and filed one down, then picked up a magazine. She flipped through the pages for a while. “Did you know that thirteen people die each year because vending machines fall on them?”
“Before or after they get their snacks?” Marge asked.
“It doesn’t say,” Celeste said. “Does that matter?”
“It would to me,” Marge said.
“What are you reading?” I asked Celeste.
“This story is entitled Things You Never Knew.”
I looked at my watch. We’d been there for fifty-three minutes. Everything was quiet at Marty’s house.
I wiped some fog off my glasses. “Still no text from Marty?”
Celeste checked her phone. “Not a word.”
I leaned back and closed my eyes. I wondered what Alex might be doing. I slipped into a daydream that turned out to be the best part of the surveillance gig. I should have thought about it sooner.
My thoughts were interrupted by Celeste. “This is fascinating. Did you know that one in three people who have dogs have actually talked to their pets on the phone? Who does that and why? What do they even say?”
We’d been there for more than an hour and Marge had begun to snore when Celeste let out a gasp. “Wake up, Marge!”
I sat up straight. “What? What do you see?”
“It’s Marty! He’s getting in his truck.”
It’s showtime!
Marge started up the engine. “I’m awake. I’m going.”
“Don’t lose him, but still make sure that you don’t get too close,” Celeste instructed in a calm voice. “We don’t want to tip him off.”
“Got it,” Marge said. “I can’t believe this is working.”
“We don’t know for sure,” I said. “Maybe Aurora sent him on more errands. For diapers, paper towels. He might be out of beer.”
Traffic picked up as we went through downtown, and Marge stayed a few cars back, always keeping him in sight. I noticed that she drove a whole lot better in her undercover mode.
“Please let him be meeting Stanley,” I said, gazing at the buildings that we passed. “If we do see Stanley, what exactly do we do? Call Deborah right away? Maybe take some photos so that we’ll have proof in case he gets away?” Which – duh! – would have been a good thing to discuss while we sat in the car, bored out of our minds.
I’d assumed we’d call her first thing, but was that the best option? To call her before he ran again, or spend our time observing? Would we learn other secrets if we waited and watched before we made the call?
“I think it’s best to call her right away,” Marge said, speeding up a little as Marty’s truck disappeared around a curve. “After all, that’s our job: to let our client know where her husband is. And then – once she knows we found him first – we should call the police. After all, this whole disappearing-Stanley-thing is mixed up in a murder.”
After about twenty minutes, Marty pulled into an old motel just outside the city limits. Geez. The place was a disaster. If I had to get a bed there, I’d never go to sleep. I’d be too afraid to even shut my eyes.
It was two stories of dirty white, with flimsy doors that led straight to the rooms from the outside parking lot. The whole place smelled like the trash that was scattered on the ground and overflowing from a dumpster. From the looks of the parking lot, it did not get too much business.
We parked across the lot, as far away as we could get from Marty. We watched as he climbed the stairs to an upstairs unit. Third from the stairway. He rapped on the door, then disappeared inside. Was it Stanley who’d let him in? I had no idea. It had gotten dark by then, plus, we hadn’t dared to get close enough to get a decent view.
“What do we do now?” I asked.
“We’ll just walk slowly past the room,” Celeste said, gathering up her purse. “We’ll see if we can hear what they’re saying. Hopefully, that won’t look suspicious. We’re just three women passing by, on our way to our room.”
Well, something might seem off. Three women alone would never stay in a place like this. Unless they didn’t care if they lived or died. The place looked just that scary. Then again, I didn’t have an idea that was any better. I climbed out of the back seat. My heart was beating hard. From excitement. (We might have just found Stanley!)
The steps creaked as we climbed up, announcing to anyone who might care that three people were making their way up. I wished that Stanley had said something that night at the bar. Then if I heard his voice behind the door, I might know that it was him. And we could hightail it out of here, back to somewhere safe, and report to Deborah that we’d found her missing person.
As we got closer to the door, we stood still and listened. We could hear movement, but no voices. What was going on? We shot each other fearful looks.
We moved a little closer and held our ears against the door – which suddenly flew open, sending us tumbling inside.
“What the hell?” Marty yelled. He stepped back in surprise.
I could barely breathe. I thought I might throw up.
Close behind Marty, Stanley rushed up to us. He stared down at the filthy carpet where we’d landed in a heap.
Stanley. He was here. Which suddenly didn’t matter like it had before. I wanted to get out of here, call Deborah and get this over with.
“I’ve seen these three before,” Stanley said, looking more confused than angry. “They were at the bar last night.”
“What are you doing here?” Marty looked at us. I could tell that he was frantic. He gazed outside to see if anyone was watching. He turned to Stanley, wild-eyed. “What the hell is going on here?”
“We can explain,” Celeste said, slowly getting up. “We were outside to…”
But she didn’t get to finish. Three guys appeared at the doorway. And they didn’t look exactly friendly. And they were pointing guns at us.
Chapter Thirteen
Okay, this is it. I had to find a safer job. Computers! I could learn to fix computers. After all, I had to learn to do that anyway. Unless I died, of course. Which might be happening soon. The biggest man I’d ever seen was giving me an angry glare and pointing a gun straight at my forehead. Another guy had his gun trained on Celeste and Marge. He looked like he was from the wrestling channel. In between them, there was a normal-sized guy with a greasy blonde goatee.
Stanley and Marty stood behind, staring.
“Sit on the bed! Right now,” the smaller man said. His voice was calm but sent chills down my spine.
“I swear! I don’t know who these people are,” Stanley said, sounding scared and looking at us, askance. “Who are you, anyway? It’s not my fault they’re here. I’ve never met these women.”
“Everybody, chill,” Marty said in a pleading voice. “No need for waving guns.”
I kind of had it with being at the wrong side of guns. Who were these guys, anyway? This was our case and I needed that damn paycheck.
“The question is, who are you?” I asked the men.
Marge was looking at me like I’d lost my freaking mind.
The two huge guys glared
a hole straight through me. The biggest one moved closer with his gun. “We’ll ask the questions here,” he said. He had an eye patch and wore a bandanna tied around his head. Talk about clichés.
Marge slowly crawled out from underneath me. “Please don’t shoot,” she said, sounding like she might cry. “I finally got my dream job and I can’t die before I…”
“Marge.” Celeste interrupted in her “hushing voice,” which she used quite often. Then she turned to the men. “Let’s just talk it out and I’m sure you’ll see that you have nothing to fear from us.”
“I believe the boss said to sit,” the eye-patch guy shouted, who looked like the pirates in the movies my brother sometimes watched. It’s funny the things you think about in the worst moments of your life.
We scrambled to the bed.
“Okay, here’s the deal,” the shorter guy said. “Just call me Mr. X. No need to know my real name. All you need to know is that this show is run by me.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. X,” Marge said. Her voice was a trembling whisper.
“No one screws with me!” the little man continued. “Some people need to learn that there are consequences for not playing by my rules.” He turned to glare at Stanley.
“But I got your money for you as fast as I could!” Stanley said. His voice grew high and tiny. “I went back to the bar to…”
“Shut it, baldy.” Mr. X said. “I was talking to these three.” Then he turned to me. “In answer to your question, I own a little bar. It’s called The Bumpy Cashew. The real dough comes from gambling. Except when it comes to losers like the one you see here. Some guys just don’t get it – that you pay up what you owe. That’s when you have to send a guy to collect the money that belongs to you, that it is your money fair and square, and what does this loser do?” Once again he glared at Stanley. “He goes and kills your guy.”
“There’s no way I could kill someone.” Stanley’s voice grew higher, tinier. “I swear I didn’t do it.”
“Do you think I’m an idiot?” Mr. X raised his voice and asked the questions so hard, I thought he might burst a vein. Which might be convenient, really.
He took a step toward Stanley. “I sent my employee to collect my dough at that convenience store when I knew you would be closing up. Next thing I know, he’s stabbed – dead, right there on the floor. And you up and disappear. I may have flunked out of high school math, but I know what that adds up to.”
“But I swear that’s not what happened.” Stanley put his hands together in a prayer-like gesture. “I was just about to close up when I popped back in the storeroom for just a little while. Then I heard a scuffle. I didn’t even know that anyone was there, so I ran out to check. And that’s when I saw him lying there. I almost fainted from the shock. I couldn’t believe there was a dead guy sprawled out on the floor!”
“He tells a pretty story,” the wrestler-looking guy said. “But no way can that be true.”
“But it is the truth. I swear!” Stanley cried. “When I saw him, I panicked. I think anyone can understand the reason that I ran. I knew that I’d get blamed. The important thing is that I got your money back. I’m paid up free and clear. I’ve always been an honest man. I was just in a tight with money. But we’re good now. Aren’t we good?” he begged.
“Good?” Mr. X said. “How can we be good when you killed my employee?”
“But I didn’t, I didn’t,” Stanley pleaded. “That’s why I was at the bar yesterday: to find you and explain that it wasn’t me who did it. But then these women were there. I could see them staring at me. For some reason, they knew who I was. I could see it in their eyes. And I knew I had to lay low. With the way it all went down, I’ve been doing everything I could to steer clear of the police. I bet they think I did it. But I hadn’t had time to talk to you at the bar, because suddenly and out of nowhere, this guy starts chasing me.”
“You’re giving me a headache with your crybaby whining,” Mr. X said. “You and your excuses. You stabbed one of my best men, and you’re going to pay for that. So much trouble you make me go to. And then these three women burst in here.” He wheeled around to face us. “Who the hell are you?”
I saw Marty touch his cousin’s shoulder as if to comfort him.
Stanley spoke to him in a low voice. “Do you see I was right when I said there was no way I could turn my life around? That things had gone too far?”
“Shut it,” one of the huge guys said to Stanley just as we heard a banging on the door.
We all froze.
“Where are all these people coming from?” Stanley cried. “No one is supposed to know I’m here. Is this my real life or a nightmare?”
We heard a voice coming from the outside. “Stanley, open up. I know you’re in there, Stanley.”
Deborah.
Stanley stepped back into a corner. “It’s for sure a nightmare.”
“Who is that?” Mr. X demanded.
Stanley answered him. “It the nightmare I’ve been having for too long.”
Mr. X sighed, then nodded to his henchmen. “Let her in,” he ordered.
Stanley leaned into the corner. “Anyone but her!”
One of the huge guys yanked the door almost off its flimsy hinges and pulled Deborah into the room. She blinked and glanced at the guys with the guns. Then she glanced at us. Then again at the guns. For maybe the first time ever, she couldn’t say a word.
I caught Marge’s eye and then Celeste’s. What was Deborah doing here?
Mr. X aimed his gun at Deborah. “I didn’t order no damn party. Could someone please explain to me who all these people are and what they’re doing here?”
He turned the gun to Celeste, who had no other choice but to fill our captor in. “This is Stanley’s wife.” She nodded her head toward Deborah. “She hired the three of us to find her husband.” She turned to our client. “How did you find us here?”
Deborah glanced at the huge guys one more time. “I got in my car and followed. You’re not so good with the reports. I thought the only way to know what was really going on was to see it with my own eyes. Plus, I’d know for sure if you were slacking off. I don’t have time for slackers.”
Did she just say slackers? To the women who were at gunpoint to solve her stupid case? I had to get a new job. After I figured out how to get out of that room alive.
“How did you find me?” Stanley asked the three of us. “I don’t understand. I thought I was being careful.”
“We found you through Marty,” Celeste explained. “We followed your cousin here.”
“You shouldn’t have come. I told you that,” Stanley said to his cousin. “I knew it was too risky.”
Marty sighed. “I know that know.”
“I told you it wasn’t me who sent you the message.”
Mr. X smiled at Stanley. “Your cousin here did us a solid favor. These three detective-wannabes weren’t the only ones who followed Marty here. We knew you guys were tight and that if we were patient, we could watch Marty’s every movement. On a fine day like today, that would tell us where you were.”
“Oh man, I’m so sorry,” Marty told his cousin. He looked miserable.
It had been like a parade. We’d followed Marty here, and so had Mr. X, along with a pirate and a wrestler…and a witch not far behind. It had probably been a while since this wretched little motel had seen so many cars come in all at once.
“I just want my money,” Deborah said to the group. “This excuse for a human being took off with the savings that belonged to us together. Did you forget you had a wife?”
“Not for lack of trying,” her husband said underneath his breath.
That pushed Deborah over the edge. She lunged at him before one of the henchman grabbed her with one arm.
“Deborah, take it easy,” Marty said in a calm voice, trying to keep whatever peace he could.
“And you!” She wheeled on him. “You knew where my husband was. You knew all along!”
My heart went
out to Marty. He’d come to help his cousin and in the process made an enemy out of Deborah – which had to be a terrifying thing. We had done that to him. He’d come to that room because of us.
“I know the money’s not just mine,” Stanley said to Deborah. “I wouldn’t have done the thing I did if I had any other choice. Do you see this guy right here?” He nodded at Mr. X. “I owed this guy. And he’s not someone you want pissed off at you. I had to get the money back to him as fast as I could.”
She was not mollified. “Owed this guy for what?”
He hesitated. “Gambling. I was gambling. Ever since I lost my business, there hasn’t been a day when I didn’t worry about money. Was there enough to pay the bills, to make the payment on the house…I just couldn’t get ahead. Then I heard about a bar in town where you could win some money.”
“How stupid are you?” Deborah asked. “You gambled away our savings? I didn’t think you were that stupid. Nobody wins at gambling.”
“Shhh,” I whispered to Marge before she could even say it.
“I should have divorced you long ago,” Deborah said. “It was bad enough when I thought it was some other woman who was your big secret. But this – this is worse.”
Mr. X rubbed his temple. “This is a damn motel. This isn’t marriage counseling. I don’t have time to hear you bicker. I have a score to settle.” He reached down to stroke his gun.
“And settle it we will.” Stanley pulled a large bag from beneath the bed. “Here you go. That’s all of it.”
“How could you?” Deborah seethed. One look at the huge guys convinced her not to move.
“So now we’re good?” Stanley asked, hopefully.
“Not so much,” Mr. X said. “There is the little matter of you sticking a knife into my guy’s neck. I can’t say we’re even.”
“But I didn’t do it!” Stanley said.
“Let’s take a minute to just think,” Celeste said. “We have three professionals in the room when it comes to solving crimes. We all have a big interest in figuring this out.”