Murder and Mayhem

by Hamilton, B L

  “I’ll need to go to the bathroom first,” Rosie said. “We’ve been laughing so hard I think I wet my pants.”

  *****

  Nicola watched Danny pack his bag. “What time do we need to leave for the airport?” she asked.

  “I need to check-in two hours ahead of departure. So allowing an hour and a half for traffic we probably should leave here around six.”

  Nicola looked at everything laid out on the bed. “How do you fit it all in, you only came with one bag?”

  Danny produced another smaller, softer bag from inside the large tote and said, “I’ve got it down to a fine art. As you can see, I now have two bags. I put the motorbike parts in the large one wrapped in T-shirts and underwear to stop them from banging together and moving around. That bag goes in the hold. Then I pack my sneakers, clothes and toiletries in the smaller bag and take as carry-on.”

  “Doesn’t it ruin your clothes wrapping them around the bike parts like that?”

  “No. The parts are all individually wrapped in black plastic bags. I just use the clothes as a buffer. When I get home I’ll throw everything in the wash. I’m not too worried about the clothes getting damaged, I’ve got four pairs of blue jeans and around twenty white Hanes T-shirts, some not even out of the packet, about a dozen black T-shirts and three pairs of black jeans, one pair is so full of holes they’re actually in fashion, but they’re comfortable so I can’t bring myself to get rid of them. And besides, all the young chicks love to see me wearing them, so hey, it costs me nothing to give them a thrill!” He laughed and ruffled her hair.

  “It’s still a couple of hours before we have to leave. Would you like something to eat or some coffee?” Nicola asked as he placed his bags by the door ready to load in the car.

  “Nothing, thanks. They fill you with so much food on the plane.” He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in close. “There’s only one thing I want before I leave.”

  THIRTY-ONE

  When we headed to where Daphne and Susannah were sitting, I noticed Daphne had her arm wrapped around the arm of a short, overweight, balding man who had one of those comb-overs that said, I’m not going bald, and a wayward eye that seemed to have a life of its own. Daphne was acting all shy and coy, like a love-struck teenager, as they huddled together whispering.

  I walked up and said, “Hey girls, how are you doing?”

  Hi, Bee, Hon, we’re doing just fine,” Susannah replied.

  Daphne jumped up and pulled her friend to his feet. “This here is my fiancé, Henry,” she said then turned to the man who barely came up to her ear lobe, and added, “Henry, these are the friends I was telling you about, Bee and Hon.”

  “I’m very pleased to meet you, Henry,” I said, and held out my hand.

  When Henry took hold of it I noticed he had a sluggish grip… and a crooked, self-conscious smile.

  “Hello, Henry. It’s so nice to meet you,” Rosie said.

  Henry’s wayward eye shot off to the left. “Hello,” he said, and patted his comb-over.

  “Henry and I are going to be married when my divorce comes through,” Daphne informed us.

  “Why, Daphne–that’s great news. I’m so happy for you both.”

  “That’s wonderful, Daphne. Congratulations to the both of you,” Rosie said and gave them a hug.

  I leaned into Susannah and whispered. “I see everything’s worked out for Daphne after all. She seems to have gotten the problem with her husband sorted out and is back with her boyfriend.”

  “Hell no,” said Susannah, inspecting her nails. “That didn’t work out at all. Henry is boyfriend number two.”

  I think I must have missed something in the translation. “Boyfriend, number two? I thought Daphne was going to find herself a new boyfriend and use him to get her husband back, then dump them both and marry her current boyfriend.” Forgive me if I sound confused–but I am!

  “She was. But when she met Henry it was love at first sight, so she decided to forget about her husband, gave her boyfriend the flick, and now here we are getting ready for another wedding. We do like large traditional weddings,” she added. “Daphne looks lovely in white.”

  “But, isn’t she still married to… err… what’s-his-face?”

  “Oh sure, but they’re flying to Vegas for a quickie divorce next week and then it’s all systems go. Daphne is planning on having five bridesmaids, a ring carrier, and four flower girls. I’ll be Maid of Honor, of course. I plan to wear apricot.” Susannah sighed.

  I thought apricot might clash with her yellower than yellow hair, but decided to keep my fashion tips to myself. “But I thought Daphne was worried about her reputation, and self-respect, when her husband dumped her, so how is this going to look?”

  Susannah shook her head. “Sometimes I wonder about you, Bee. What better way to regain your reputation and self-respect than to invite all the naysayers to the big bash and rub their noses in it.”

  “There’s nothing like a big wedding to make all your friends jealous,” Rosie smiled at Daphne, paused then added, “I can give you the name of a great wedding planner.”

  Wedding planner! Where does she get this stuff!

  *****

  The summer was over and the last of its warmth had died in the cold rain that covered the landscape. Evening traffic crowded the expressway as eighteen-wheelers rolled down the wet blacktop like hell-on-wheels, bright headlights guiding them through the night to destinations far and near. The steady rain traced its way across the windshield as Danny followed red taillights that snaked down the busy highway.

  “Have you ever had any problems taking bike parts onto the plane?” Nicola asked.

  “I’ve only ever had one episode. It happened when we were staying in a hotel downtown. We’d returned from New York a day earlier than originally planned because I wanted to connect with a mate who was catching the red-eye to Chicago.

  “I’d gotten up early and turned on the television and was watching what I thought was a movie while we waited for room service to deliver breakfast. I remember saying to Sara, “I haven’t seen this movie before. It looks like it might be one of Steven Spielberg’s.” Suddenly the caption, “America under Attack” flashed across the bottom of the screen. That was 9/11.

  “So we spent the entire day, and half the night sitting in front of the television watching the horror unfold–too afraid to look away in case we missed something. Like hundreds of millions of others around the world, we couldn’t believe what was happening,” he said shaking his head, sadly.

  “I think it affected most people like that. I don’t think too many Americans would have turned up for work that day. The entire county seemed to be in a daze.” Nicola paused then added, “Followed by a nation in mourning.”

  “Two days later we were flying back to Australia and were advised to be at the airport four hours before take-off due to the strict security checks that were supposed to be in place. When we arrived at the airport, the place was deserted. I thought something must have happened but when we went to United Airlines check-in there was an attendant at the counter–but no one else in sight. As usual I had my bag full of goodies. In fact, I had so many I packed them in a sturdy box and sealed it with an entire roll of duct tape. The box was so heavy even I had trouble lifting it. I expected to be hit with an excess baggage fee, but I wasn’t too concerned because I’d gotten a really good deal on some rare parts. So I put my bag on the weighing machine and the attendant, who was from somewhere in South America, asked me in English I could barely understand, if I had anything else. I told him I also had a box to go in the hold. When I put the box on the machine the guy didn’t even look up from his terminal. He asked me what was in the box, but didn’t seem suspicious or curious. After what happened just two days earlier I through he’d show some sort of interest in me, or the box–but didn’t.

  “What’s in the box?’ he asked in the same deadpan voice, still not looking up from his terminal. ‘Motorbike parts,’ I said.
‘Is there anything breakable in the box?’ he asked his eyes still glued to the terminal. ‘No, it’s just motorbike parts, there’s nothing breakable in there.’ And then he said–and I kid you not–‘United Airlines will not accept responsibility for any damage. You must sign a disclaimer.’ So naturally I said, ‘Fine. I’ll sign anything you want.’

  The man handed me a disclaimer form and I signed it. The box was put on the conveyor belt–and that was it.

  “I expected someone somewhere to open the box and check what was inside, but no one did. When I arrived in Sydney the box was exactly the way I’d packed it except it now it had the word, HEAVY, written all over it in large red letters.”

  “I thought the country was supposed to be in lock-down after 9/11?” Nicola said.

  “So did I. But…” he shrugged, “apparently not. I put it down to the fact that the plane was probably filled with Aussies, and if a bomb went off it would only come down in the ocean. What really blew my mind about the whole entire incident was that no one was interested in the box or its contents. All they wanted was for me to sign a disclaimer in case something happened and wanted to cover their asses. And the funny part was I wasn’t even charged excess baggage!”

  *****

  “Have you ever had any problems with baggage,” my sister asked.

  “Only one time.”

  “Why? What happened?”

  “A couple of year back we were at Chicago’s O’Hare Airport catching a flight back to San Francisco after we’d been to Davenport to one of those swap meets that Ross likes to go to, and he was loaded down with so much stuff I was sure we’d get hit with a huge excess baggage bill. So Ross, thinking he was being smart, decided to put his clothes in the hold and the parts in two bags, as cabin luggage, because they don’t weigh carry-on baggage.”

  “Makes sense to me. So, what happened?”

  “We checked the luggage and as we went through security, the guy at the x-ray machine pointed to Ross’s bags. They removed them from the conveyor belt and two great big burley guys beckoned Ross over and asked him if they were his bags. Naturally, he said yes. We weren’t worried, we had nothing to hide. When they asked Ross what was in the bags he told them, motorbike parts. The bigger of the two told him to take everything out of the bags and spread them out on the table.

  “So Ross unpacked everything and the men started going through them, inspecting every piece until one of the security guys knew what they were, and told Ross to put them back in the bags.”

  “Did they let them go through?”

  “Not a chance. One of the men told him he couldn’t take them on board as hand luggage. Not because they were too heavy, as you would expect, but because they may fall out of the overhead locker and hit someone on the head. But, Ross, being Ross told him he’d put them under his feet. The guy shook his head and said they had to go into the hold.”

  “So, what did you do?”

  “Before we knew it, this large black woman who was built like a tank, picked up the bags and told us to follow her. We had to practically run to keep up as she strode down the concourse scattering people like a bull in a china shop. Ross finally caught up and offered to carry the bags, knowing how heavy they were, but she just looked at him as if he was some kind of insect and said, “Sir, these bags have been checked by security. You cannot touch them.” And as she was the one with the gun, we followed her back through the gate and out to the check-in counter where she bypassed everyone in the line and went to the nearest counter. She told the couple already there to get back into the line, then she handed the bags, our tickets and boarding passes to the attendant who processed them, handed the paperwork back and we followed the security guard back through the security checkpoint and were allowed to proceed to the gate without any further ado.”

  “And, that was it?”

  “That was it. And to say we were surprised we weren’t hit with excess baggage fees is an understatement.”

  “Is that the only time you had a problem?”

  “Well, last year we nearly had a problem but it ended up okay.”

  “Why, what happened?”

  “We had three large bags to check into the hold. One was filled with books. You know how I always load up with books while I’m here because they’re so cheap.”

  “I’m always amazed at the amount of books you take back,” Rosie said.

  “You know me, I’m a book tragic. I love to read and books are so expensive in Australia. Anyway, even though the bag filled with books was a couple of pounds over the guy at check-in let it go through. But the big bag filled with motorbike parts was waay over–like twenty pounds–and I figured we’re finally going to have to pay excess baggage. But the check-in operator suggested Ross go to the bag store down the concourse and purchased another bag so we could distribute the weight. And the bag was on special for $9.99! I just love United Airlines!”

  *****

  “How come you don’t fly Qantas?” Nicola asked as they crossed the 380 flyover to 101 and took the International Airport Terminal off-ramp, carefully navigating the chicanes that led to the short term parking garage.

  “Because Qantas doesn’t fly to San Francisco.”

  Danny popped the trunk, grabbed his bags and they headed for the United Airlines Departure Terminal. “I wish they had curb-side check-in for international flights. It’s so much easier,” he said as they joined the slow moving line to the check-in counter.

  “Good evening. Are you both traveling on the flight to Sydney this evening?” the friendly United Airlines operator asked when they approached the counter.

  “No just me,” Danny said. He handed over his passport and placed the larger of two bags on the weighing machine.

  The attendant processed the information handed back his passport and a boarding pass and said, “Boarding’s at 9.35 from Gate 94. Enjoy your flight Mr. Richards,” smiled, and beckoned the next passenger forward.

  Danny took hold of Nicola’s hand and squeezed it tightly as they walked down the concourse to the security checkpoint, dropped his bag to the floor, wrapped his arms around Nicola and held her close. Nicola could feel his heart beating steady and strong like a clock counting off seconds. Danny kissed the top of her head and buried his face in her hair. They stood suspended in the embrace as the world moved around them.

  A woman with a small child balanced on her hip clutching a bunch of white roses tripped on another passenger’s suitcase and bumped into Danny. “Sorry,” she called on the run leaving a trail of white petals scattered across the marble floor like snowflakes.

  Danny glanced at the retreating back of the woman, dropped his hands to his sides and stepped back. “I’ve got to go, Nic.”

  “I know.”

  Danny’s eyes skimmed over her face taking in the gentle curve and fullness of her lips; the shape of her nose. Her normally vibrant green eyes were red-rimmed. He stroked her face with his hand, and the delicate skin around her eyes. Danny leaned down and kissed her eyelids and ran his fingers through her hair, feeling the silky softness. He tilted her head up and kissed her passionately on the lips then stepped back and held her at arms’ length.

  “I really have to go,” he said. “The longer we delay the harder it’s going to be. I’ll ring you as soon as I get home and I’ll phone you every day. I should be back in about six weeks–two months at the most, after I’ve got everything sorted out. In the meantime you know you can ring me anytime Nic, day or night, no matter the time. You’ve got my office number as well as my home and cell numbers. The only time I won’t answer is when I’m in the shower or out on the board.”

  “I know,” Nicola said. “And you can phone me anytime anywhere.” Then she wrapped her arms around him and rubbed her hands up and down his back feeling the muscles ripple beneath her fingers. She knew her arms would ache for that feeling not knowing when, or if she would ever see him again.

  Danny kissed her tenderly on the lips and unwound her arms. He took one last loo
k then turned and walked away taking with him the very essence of her that clung to every fiber of his body–and buried deep within his heart. He didn’t trust himself to turn round for one last look.

  Nicola watched as Danny disappeared in the sea of people milling around the security checkpoint. Her eyes searched the faces hoping for one last glimpse. But he seemed to have disappeared. Tears ran down her cheeks as she headed for the door.

  Danny stopped and turned in time to see Nicola jostled her way towards the exit.

  “Sir?” the woman behind him said.

  Danny smiled apologetically and stepped out of the line. “I’m sorry, you go ahead.”

  THIRTY-TWO

  I set aside my usual attire of jeans and T-shirt in favor of gray slacks and red top in celebration of my sister’s last day of treatment. I slipped a long strand of gray pearls around my neck and checked my image in the mirror. What is it they say–dressed to impress–although I don’t know who I was trying to impress; Chartreuse and Louanna–a go-go bra and G-string would impress the hell out of them; Grace and Linda–a white communion dress might be more their style. I wasn’t sure if Daphne and Susannah would be there but nothing I wore would impress those two–I had neither their figure nor their fashion sense. And it certainly wouldn’t be the hospital staff–they only notice people wearing washed-out blue hospital gowns with missing ties. Although I did get a strange look from one of the doctors when I wore my Olivia Newton John Grease outfit; so, that only leaves my dear friend…, Mr. Takamura. I wonder where his preferences would lay? Mini-skirt and plunging neckline perhaps, and glittering stilettos with six-inch heels. But, with those Coke-bottle lenses I doubt he could see much at all.

  I looked over at my sister and smiled. As usual we were dressed in similar fashion–sans the gray pearls.