The Next Best Thing

by Wiley Brooks

  The card companies might balk about how urgently we need the info. They need to know that a young woman is traveling with a serial killer but doesn’t know it. Unless we can catch up with them, she will surely die. If that happens and they haven’t been cooperating, it will fall of their shoulders for not helping.

  We should also start monitoring her bank accounts. We don’t know where she banks, but I’m sure someone in the Hoover Building can get that info pretty quickly. Someone high up at her bank should flag her accounts. They need to call you the moment, day or night, that a big wire transfer is attempted.

  Send me your goddamn home phone number.

  Mason

  He called down to the front desk. Where, he asked, could he get a road map for all of Malaysia? The front desk connected him with the gift shop. They had one that unfolded into a three-foot square. The gift shop agreed to send one up to his room along with a pack of Post-It notes and a yellow highlighter.

  When the map arrived, Mason found a place on one wall where it would fit. He took a roll of tape from the desk in his room and used it to adhere the map to the wall. He sat opposite the map and studied it. Joey and Jessica, he figured, most likely went to one of two places.

  They might have headed east. The east coast facing the South China Sea was known for its beautiful beaches. On the other hand, they might have headed south to Pangkor Island, the only other real beach destination on the west coast.

  Mason placed Post-Its on each beach where Joey had killed girls before. Would he take Jessica to one of them? Why not, he reasoned? Little risk for him there now. Of the locations, Lumut, the jumping off spot for Pangkor was the closest. That’s where Joey killed Sally Simpson. He and Ms. Stone could be there in four or five hours and they left yesterday.

  Kota Bharu would be a little longer drive. He studied the map and guessed six or seven hours. From there, it is a short drive down the coast to Kuala Besut, where you catch the ferry to the Perhentian Islands. Joey killed his first victim in Kuala Besut, a marine biology graduate student named Annie Smith.

  Mason felt the sudden urge for a guidebook. He knew little about the places on the map. How might Joey choose where to take her? He dashed out in search of a bookstore. An hour later, he was back in his room with three paperback books. First was South-East Asia on a Shoestring, the Lonely Planet guide. The bookstore clerk said it was most popular guidebook among backpackers. He also picked up one called the South-East Asia Handbook, as well as a Fodor’s Guide to Malaysia. He guessed that Ms. Stone might be more of a Fodor woman than a Lonely Planet one.

  If Mason left right now, he could be at either location by evening. But, if he chose wrong, he would be farther away from them. And, he really wanted to speak with Fitz. That would be easier from here.

  Then he got an idea. There was a chance that Fitz had given Bob his home number. One of those “call me anytime” things people do hoping the person never really calls them. He looked at the clock. It was still too early to make the call. He’d do it at 6 p.m. That would be 6 a.m. in Tampa. If Bob had Fitz’s number, Mason might then reach Fitz before he headed out on the long drive to meet with Pastor Johnny.

  Mason made the call at six. A groggy Bob Anderson answered.

  “Mason, what’s up?” Then he realized that the unusual call might be important, so he sat upright quickly in bed and forced himself awake. “News?”

  “I’m terribly sorry to have called you so early, but I’m hopin’ you have something that I need.”

  “It’s fine. Sure. What do you need?”

  “Did Fitz give you his home phone number, by any chance? I need to call him ASAP.”

  “Give me a minute to see if he wrote it on his card. Where did I put the card? Hmmm. Of shit! It’s at the office.”

  “It was a long shot. Don’t pay it any mind.”

  “Listen, I’m heading into the office a little early today. I’ll check first thing and let you know. Probably seven-thirty or eight. Will that work for you?”

  “Sure.” He gave Bob the hotel number and his room number. He added he would wait for Bob’s call. “Call me either way.”

  Bob called at 7:35 a.m. “I have it. He wrote a number on the back. Are you ready?”

  Bob read off the phone number. Mason thanked him and hung up. Then he put through the international call to what should be Fitz’ home number. Except it wasn’t. It was a messaging service for senior State Department employees. He stressed to the operator that it was urgent and to please reach out to Fitz. Don’t wait for him to call in. She told Mason that she would ping his pager. If he were near a phone, he’d likely call in within minutes.

  Mason thanked her, then waited. He was about to give up at eight-thirty and grab some dinner when the phone rang.

  “Hi Mason. Sorry it took a while to call you back. I’m on the road. What’s so urgent?”

  Mason told Fitz everything he had put in the fax.

  “Jesus. I’ll call the pastor and tell him I have to reschedule. I can be back in the office ten-thirty or eleven. I’ll get right on it. In fact, I’ll call Bill Spears at the Bureau right now. He’s the Bureau liaison for Southeast Asia. He usually can make things happen. I’ll either call or fax you an update at the end of the day. I’ll also have Jonathan grab her passport photo and get it to you by courier tomorrow, if possible. Next day at the latest.”

  “Call me. I’ll still stayin’ at the Straits Hotel.”

  Joey and Jess – that’s what he was calling her now - had arrived at Tanah Rata in the Cameron Highlands late the afternoon before. They had stopped to enjoy a leisurely lunch in Ipoh, the gateway to the highlands. Mountains loomed on the horizon east of Ipoh. Indeed, the two-hour drive from Ipoh to Tanah Rata climbs, climbs and climbs. Where Ipoh is just seventy feet above sea level, the fifty-five miles between the two cities saw an elevation gain of nearly five-thousand feet.

  Some people called Ipoh the city of millionaires because of all the fortunes that had been made nearby mining tin. It also had a seedier persona. Every street seemed to offer a strip club or a massage parlor – or both.

  But all that money gave the city another asset. It offered an array of fine restaurants. Joey and Jess settled on The Rahman, an exquisite Indian restaurant in the heart of the city. They ate a light curry and finished the meal with a banana roti. Jess had enjoyed the dish before at a food stand in Bangkok, but the one she shared with Joey seemed lighter and sweeter. Maybe it was the quality of the bananas, or perhaps the sweetness of the condensed milk and chocolate topping.

  They chatted a good part of the way to Tanah Rata.

  “On this trip,” Jess told him, “I want the final say on where we stay. I’m not interested in staying someplace – unless we have to, of course – with no hot water. I know you’re probably more adventurous than me. But I’m not a twenty-something girl. I like feeling the kind of clean that comes from a long, slow, hot bath. And while we’re at it, I also like comfortable beds with clean sheets.” Then, with a smile to try to take some of the weight off, she added, “Maid service is always a plus.”

  Joey didn’t echo her smile. He sat stoically, pondering his response, just not for the reason she thought.

  “Jess, I don’t know if I can afford my half of that for two months,” he finally said. “I can’t burn through all my money. I’m working on a business plan.”

  She had thought about his balking at the cost before bringing it up, but this was the first she’d heard of a business plan. She decided against pressing him on it right then. It might have just been something he said to deflect attention from his lack of funds.

  “Listen, Joey,” she said, glancing over at him as the winding road would allow, “if you had come into a decent amount of money, would you want me to pay half the costs of our trip?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe not.”

  “Well, maybe I shouldn’t tell you this, but I got a good insurance settlement when Wallace died. I can afford to pay for nice rooms. It’s why I w
as at the Holiday Inn and not some budget place in George Town.”

  She paused to let that sink in. His mind, she could tell, was trying to take it all in. He looked confused.

  “Listen Joey, I love being with you. You’re fun, good looking, a great guide and incredible in bed. Let me burn through some of my money with you. Please. Don’t you worry about what things cost. I’m not going to worry about them. Okay?”

  “It’s not the way I was raised, Jess. I understand what you’re saying. I just need to think about how I feel about it.”

  It was all an act, of course. She had just confirmed that she had more than enough money for his fifty-thousand dollars. He felt elated on the inside but had to put on a different face.

  He paused and stared out the car window. They continued in silence for a bit before Joey spoke again.

  “I guess it’s not like I’ll be taking your money. You and I together will be spending Wallace’s instead of his secretary. Payback. Serves him right!”

  Jess looked over at him and beamed.

  “We are going to have so much fun,” she said.

  Joey looked over at her and felt enveloped in her smile. “Yes, we are,” he said. And he meant it.

  When they arrived in Tanah Rata, they were exhausted from the drive through more switchbacks than they could count. All they wanted was to find a nice hotel and crash.

  The first thing that struck Jess was that while the name of the town, Tanah Rata, was all Malaysian, the architecture was distinctively British. During the colonial period, the Brits would come here, sometimes for extended stays, to escape the heat of the rest of the country. And they were drawn, as well, by the perfect climate and terrain for growing tea. The Brits do love their tea.

  Tea plantations stretched as far as the eye could see in and around Tanah Rata. Pure, lush green. The first glimpse of the plantations happened as they completed one switchback on the drive. They came around a bend to reveal the first of the sprawling plantations.

  “On my God! Jess exclaimed. “This is breathtaking. I’ve never seen anything like it. Did you say it’s all tea?”

  “What you see here is tea,” Joey said. He explained that the area was also well known for its strawberries. “Wait till you taste one. Picked ripe and served the same day. It’ll spoil you.”

  Out of the blue, Joey told her to take the next left. She did.

  “How about some strawberry short cake right now?” he said.

  “What? Before we even get a place to stay?”

  “The hotels aren’t going any place.”

  He directed Jess to the KHM Strawberry Farm. They were able to park right in front.

  “Come on!” he said, jumping out of the car. They climbed the curved stone walkway to the entrance. When they got to the top, Jess was hanging on Joey like a schoolgirl.

  “I like this impulsive side of you,” she said, beaming at him.

  They had the little open-air restaurant to themselves and grabbed a table overlooking the valley. They ordered one strawberry short cake, a half-dozen chocolate dipped strawberries and two cups of coffee with warm milk.

  The shortcake was a freshly made scone that came with a generous service of just-whipped cream and KHM’s own strawberry jam. The strawberries were medium-sized and brilliant red. They were dipped halfway in chocolate.

  “On my God, Joey,” she said as she took another bite of the shortcake they were sharing.

  “Yeah, well taste this.” He took one of the dipped berries and teased her lips with it.

  “Stop it,” she said with a giggle, then opened her mouth and took a bite. Her body relaxed in a pleasure response. She leaned in and kissed him. He beamed.

  “This was such a great idea,” she said. “Thank you, Joey.” She kissed him again.

  They were at the farm for about thirty minutes.

  “Let’s go find a hotel,” she told him. “I want to, ahhh, rest.”

  They drove past a place called The Smokehouse Hotel, a Tudor inn nestled in an English garden.

  “That’s the place,” she said, pulling over then doing a U turn to drive back to the small street the inn faced. “Let’s have a peek,” she said.

  The inside of the hotel was as British as the outside. The fifty-year-old inn, which was built by colonists between the two world wars, could have just as well been in the English countryside. They asked to see a room and the rate. They liked what they saw, so Jess registered and paid with American Express.

  The room was lovely. Spacious with a poster bed with white canopy that set against a deep red wall. A colorful Turkish rug covered a portion of the polished hardwood floor. Wingback chairs flanked one of the two windows that filled the space with natural light. A fireplace was nestled into the wall next to the bed. Jess walked over and peered out through one of the windows to a sweeping view over a golf course to the hills covered with lush green tea plants.

  A big clawfoot tub took up one end of the bathroom. Jess filled it with hot water, climbed in and soaked away the tension from the drive. When she came out of the bathroom, Joey was asleep on the bed. He really likes his naps, she said to herself, prompting a smile. She gently crawled in next to him, still wearing the hotel bathrobe. Soon, she, too, was snoozing. It was five o’clock.

  Joey woke at eight. The room, which had been filled with rays of the late afternoon sun at five, only had the faintest glint of moonlight coming in the two windows. Joey looked over at the outline of Jess. He found himself taken by the thought of how pretty she was.

  In the darkness of the room, only his mind could see her features. He liked her dainty nose. It dawned on him that he had never noticed a beautiful woman’s nose before.

  As he lay there in the darkness, his mind conjured how she looked earlier that day driving the Toyota in the mountains. She was beautiful. He liked the hint of freckles on that cute nose and her cheeks. You don’t particularly notice them at first. As you drink her in, though, you see them. Freckles were a new thing for him. Maybe the freckles were because of her red hair. No experience there, either.

  She had more freckles on her shoulders and they slipped down her arms, as well. He had become aware of them in Langkawi. Her hands, though, were mostly freckle-free. He liked her hands. They were feminine, yet she wore no rings, nor did she polish her nails. Most of the younger girls he had seduced wore rings – sometimes several – and usually wore richly colored polish. Jess was different that way.

  He could see more now that his eyes had adjusted to the low light in the room. Her chest was gently rising and falling along with the soft sounds of her breathing.

  Should he wake her? He wanted her. He needed to wake her. But how should he do it? Should he reach over and cup her breast? Or should he do something subtler?

  He reached over and with the back of his fingers on his left hand, he gently stroked her right cheek. She twitched with the second stroke. On the fourth pass, she opened her eyes and turned her head slightly toward him.

  “Hi,” she said.

  He said nothing but moved his hand to the other cheek and gently traced over it to her lips. She edged her tongue out to greet them.

  “You are so beautiful to me,” he whispered.

  “Please don’t make that Joe Cocker face,” she said. They giggled.

  The laugh, though, was short-lived. She rolled over and started kissing his chest, then between the kisses sang another Joe Cocker lyric with a twist.

  I’m just a girl whose intentions are good

  Oh Lord, please don’t let me be misunderstood.

  And then she slid lower and took care of business.

  They sauntered into the dining room at nine to eat.

  Day 19

  An unusual early morning thunderstorm swept through the highlands waking Joey and Jess abruptly. The weather yesterday had been beautiful, but today’s downpour shouldn’t come as a surprise. One reason the highlands are so lushly green is that the rainy season pretty much extends for all twelve months. Even in a
supposedly dry month, it rains half the days. Today was going to be one of those days.

  Jess loved the rain, though. There was something about the ferocity of it here. It was loud and wild. For some reason, it felt life affirming.

  It never poured like this in Seattle. What most people don’t know is that Seattle’s reputation about it raining all the time is largely a myth. To begin with, the summers are dry. It can go for two, three, even four weeks without a drop of rain. Rain in Seattle is a winter thing. But even that is misleading. Except for six to eight weeks from Thanksgiving into January, the rain falls as a fine mist.

  Jess got up and crossed to the window.

  “Wow. It’s really coming down,” she said. “Sucks for sightseeing.”

  “Not really,” Joey answered. “These storms blow through. The sun will probably be out mid- to late-morning. The only real problem will be the mud. When it rains like this, some of the dirt roads and trails get too muddy or slippery to use.”

  Joey said it was okay if they took it easier today. He explained that most people need a couple days to adjust to the altitude.

  “It’s so much cooler here that you think you should be able to go and go,” he said. “But there’s less oxygen in the air, so you can get winded. Some people get a slight headache. Don’t worry. You get used to it.”

  Joey told her that, for the most part, daytime temperatures top out in the mid-seventies. In Penang, the same day could see a temperature in the mid-nineties.

  “Why don’t we go down and have breakfast,” Joey suggested.

  The sun was breaking through the clouds by 10 a.m., just as Joey’s predicted. It was clear that the rain was over, at least for now. Joey said that if she had pants and a long-sleeved shirt, she should wear them. Mosquitos can be bad, at times, he said. He dug in his bag and came up with a small green plastic bottle of Deet.