I was out of patience, desperate. “At least it will get Clancy out of the room!”
“It will get them both out of the room, Ed! I’m telling you, Alicia won’t let her out of her sight tonight!”
“You don’t know that for sure!”
“Trust me! I can smell it!”
I whirled on my heel, began pacing again. “What if Clancy picks up the phone!”
“She won’t.”
“But what if she does? We warn her about Alicia’s plans, tell her where we are! Maybe she can think of some excuse to leave without Alicia for a couple of minutes!”
Mitzi considered a moment. “Won’t work.”
“It can’t hurt to try!”
“It can hurt Clancy if Alicia’s standing close by! She might hear your voice through the receiver! She’s has ears like a bat, Ed!”
I slapped my fist into my palm.
“Wait a second!” Mitzi sat up. “Do you have Clancy’s cell phone number? All she needs to see is your name light up on her screen, then take the call or call you back if Alicia’s standing around.”
She saw the look on my face.
“You don’t have your girlfriend’s cell number!”
“She’s only been my girlfriend a few hours!”
“Great.”
“Damnit, Mitzi, there must be some way to contact h—“
“Sh!” Mitzi was up on her forepaws, head cocked.
“What is it?”
She hopped off the bed, trotted to the door, leaned close. “Footsteps. Two sets. Coming down the hall….”
“Oh, no…”
She nodded. “I think our guests have arrived…”
I felt a flush of helpless fury. My hands knotted into fist.
“Easy, Sport, don’t do something stupid. We’ve still got until after dinner.”
“Can you still hear them?”
“They’re at the door of the suite. Someone’s opening it. Alicia.”
I waited, jaw muscles tensing.
“…making their greetings…small talk banter. Alicia’s looking forward to the evening, hopes they like grilled salmon, blah-blah. Inviting them in…door’s closing. That’s it. Tonight’s real dinner has arrived.”
I stood there blinking reflectively a moment. “What did you just say?”
Mitzi turned from the door. “I said Alicia’s—“
“--’dinner has arrived’!” I was suddenly ear-to-ear grins.
Mitzi jumped ahead inside my mind. “Waaait a second, Ed! I don’t know…”
“It’ll work! It’s brilliant!”
“Or the stupidest idea you ever had.”
But I could tell she loved it.
“But it’s going to take split second timing,” I said.
“Plus perfect hearing and a nose for grilled salmon…both of which I have, lucky for you.”
“Did I ever tell you what a great dog you are? A great friend?”
“Flatter me after your great scheme works.” She looked me up and down. “You can’t do it looking like that. You’ll need some sort of cover.”
“Already got that figured.”
* * *
Mitzi hopped up on the toilet lid and presented her tail to the nail clippers I’d purchased in the lobby.
“I don’t need to tell you how humiliating this is--and be careful with those things! Why didn’t you buy scissors?”
“They didn’t have scissors.” I was gently clipping away at a small handful of brownish hairs. “Let’s just be thankful your coat is roughly the same color as my hair.”
Mitzi craned back and looked at the little pile of tail hair in my palm. “This isn’t going to work.”
“It will work.”
“And what do you use to stick them on with?”
I held up the pack of Juicy Fruit I’d bought with the clippers. Took a stick from the pack and began chewing quickly.
“I don’t know what your species sees in that stuff. It looks like you’re chewing your cud.”
“As opposed to rooting through the garbage,” I said, removing the softened gum and tearing off little pieces of it, sticking them to my upper lip.
“That looks terrible.”
I appraised my reflection in the sink mirror. “Really?”
Mitz cocked her head atop the toilet. “I don’t know. You might get away with it. Needs trimming, though.”
I clipped gently at the stuck-on dog hairs. “There, how’s that look?”
“Like a dead caterpillar.”
I patted at my new mustache. “Well, it’s just going to have to—“
Mitzi hopped from the lid and scooted into the living room. I dropped the clippers in the sink, charged after her. “What--?”
I found her at the door, head canted, body stiff as a pointer’s. “Hear that?”
I listened. “No.”
“Elevator doors. Down the hallway. Hold it…”
I tensed. “Food?”
Mitzi sniffed the air. “Salmon!” She looked at me. “You ready?”
I nodded, not ready at all.
“Let’s do this!” She turned expectantly to the door.
I put my hand on the handle, hesitated…bent to the dog. “Now remember, you’re only going to—“
“Yes-yes! Put him to sleep, I know! Come on, he’s almost to their suite!”
* * *
We stepped outside. I closed the door behind us and we looked down the hall with anticipation.
I’d hoped for someone short and skinny.
The chef was tall and fat. Red, cherubic cheeks, waddling gait, pompous demeanor. But he had all the other necessary requirements: crisp, white Crown Royal Hotel cook’s uniform complete with puffy white cook’s hat. Pushing a stainless steel cart of piping, covered hotplates before him. I could smell the salmon, see the bucket of chilling wine, dessert glasses of chocolate mousse.
Mitzi and I started down the hall casually, trying to look like just another hotel guest out walking his dog.
I smiled agreeably as we came abreast of the chef, nodded, “Good-evening!”
But the fat chef cast a disdainful eye at Mitzi.
He had a slightly foreign accent; French? “I don’t believe animals are allowed in the hotel, sir!” He pronounced it ho-tell like it was a sacred Aztec edifice.
Then he gave a quick, surprised gasp—
--and went down fast under Mitzi’s fangs in his ankle.
“And what are you,” she muttered, “a walking dirigible?”
I caught him before he thumped the floor. But it almost dislocated my shoulders.
“Christ!” I whispered, “He weighs a ton! We’ll never get him back to the room!”
Mitzi was already tugging at his pant cuff, cheerleading now, into it. “Yes we will, hurry!”
I bent to the doughy shoulders, froze as the elevators dinged behind us.
“Shit!”
I craned around in desperation. “Here!”
Threw back the door of the small utility closet across the hall and yanked and strained at the Pillsbury dough boy. We had all but his black shiny shoes within the closet as the elevator door slid open. The car was empty.
The elevator dinged, the doors slid shut again.
We dragged and pushed and crammed the bulbous chef against an arsenal of mops and toilet paper boxes, dropped him and shut the door behind us. I pulled the chain on the single bulb and we stood breathing hard, trying to listen for footsteps over his snoring.
“Fat toad.”
“Are you sure you didn’t—“
“He’s not a vampire, Ed! God, even they wouldn’t want him!”
I nodded relief, stared at the inside door. “Is the hall clear?”
Mitzi listened intently another moment. “Clear.”
And I began pulling off my clothes as Mitzi jerked down the big cook’s trousers.
“I have a question…”
“What is it?” stepping out of my jeans.
“Probably nothin
g. Just wondering what the plan is after you get inside. You did think that far ahead?”
I pulled on the chef’s oversized jacket. “Simple. I serve them dinner. I used to serve food and bus tables at a little restaurant in Topeka in college.”
“Wonderful, Ed. And after they’re served?”
I buttoned the white jacket, cleared my throat. “I’m…working on that.”
“I see.”
“At least I’ll be able to communicate with Clancy. Warn her.”
“If she can decipher anything from your frazzled mind.”
She was on her hind legs, reaching up with her muzzle and pulling down a large white piece of material from one of the shelves.
“What are you doing?”
She turned, held the material up to me: a tablecloth. “Here. Take the food off the tray and cover the cart with this. And be sure all the ends touch the floor, all the way round. Then put the food back on.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m going with you, Ed. Under the cart. You’ll never get through to Clancy in your present state. You’ll be lucky to keep fatty’s pants up. And, Ed--?”
I turned to her.
She nodded at my head. “Mustache is drooping.”
I delicately, patted it back in place. “There. How so I look?”
“Like Groucho Marx. Now remember, don’t push too fast, I’ll be keeping pace between the cart wheels.”
I nodded. “Okay.” Stuck on the oversized chef’s cap.
“And--?”
“And what?”
“What do we do once we’re in? Your plan? I’m still waiting for your brilliant tactical scheme, General.”
I took a deep breath, hitched up my baggy pants and pushed into the hallway.
“Let’s call it a work in progress…”
NINETEEN
I knocked.
Alicia opened the door.
My jaw nearly dropped before I regained my composure. I’d forgotten how magnificent she was. Hypnotic. Standing there on one gracefully full hip, raven wig gathered in a storm of tousled curls, perfect figure wrapped tightly in a blindingly scarlet evening gown slit long up the leg, low down the cleavage. I was sure she’d recognize me, that my mustache would fall into the soup.
“Ah! Dinner!”
I half-expected a wisecrack from under the cart.
Alicia gave me her slim spine and generous backside, lifted a beckoning finger and drew us into her swanky lair.
It didn’t even look like a suite. Even like a room. More like you were floating in mid-air above the glistening lights of the city, surrounding you from the nearly seamless panoramic view of the picture windows. Everything but the graciously complicated cut-glass chandelier was deeply muted earth tones of rich wood paneling contrasting rough-hewn concrete floors and mountains of overlapping Persian rugs. Soft lighting emanated from a bank of hidden scones near the ceiling. The furniture was a tasteful mix of sweeping Danish-Modern/early Eames-Modern and contemporary lines of industrial chic brass and steel. Plump cushions and throws complimented the causally expensive linear style, begging to be squashed. I could image Alicia’s gorgeous imprint in the long sweep of white divan. An ivory baby grand gleamed from one precisely placed corner.
I rolled the serving cart across wine-colored rugs and gray concrete to the deeply polished planked wood flooring of the dining room--or “dining area”, as it were. Alicia strode before us, gestured at a wide slab of green granite dining table and high backed chairs, stoneware dishes and gleaming steel silverware. She turned without looking back at us and rejoined her guests in the sunken living room.
The twin white divans faced each other book-ending a fat glass top coffee table with natural stone stand. Alicia sat down beside Clancy on one side. The two construction team managers were seated across from them.
Both men appeared in their early thirties, one tall, well groomed in form-fitting Armani suit. He looked casually relaxed, a kind of George Sanders style about him. His partner, his polar opposite, was shorter, dumpier and strictly J.C. Penny’s: square-faced, dull-eyed and constantly revolving gum. Mutt and Jeff.
Both partners seemed privately pondering who was the more ravishing, Alicia or her lovely young assistant Miss Cummings. I took a final glance at the group and turned to the big granite table with my cart, trying to appear as if I knew what I was doing.
“You put the food on the table,” a voice in my head said, “if you can tear your eyes away from Alicia’s plump bottom.”
I had to push to talk with my mind and not my mouth. “Mitzi?”
“A 300-year-old-ass that never falls. Clearly a few perks that go with being a vampire, eh, Eddie?” No, it wasn’t Mitzi.
“Clancy!” I couldn’t believe it. “You can actually tell it’s me? Even under this stupid hat?”
“I’d know you anywhere, sweetheart.” And I could tell from her tone she was both glad and fearful to see me there. “Nice mustache. However do you shave a sewer rat?”
“I heard that,” from Mitzi under the cart.
“I know you did, Puss,” from Clancy, while pretending to nod at some lame inanity from the ogling contractor across from her—who was in turn pretending not to stare at her bosom, “may I ask what you two idiots are doing her, beside blowing the whole business deal?”
I started setting the table with covered dishes of fresh salmon. It smelled great. “Well—“
“I’m afraid, sweets,” Mitzi interrupted, “it seems the deal isn’t the only thing to be killed tonight. Thought you might like to know.”
I sighed to myself. “Nice breaking-it-to-her-gently, Mitz!”
Clancy almost gave herself away by jerking her head toward me, covered nicely by reaching for her coffee instead. “Breaking what to me? What’s Lassie talking about, Ed?”
“The two bozos across from you,” I said, appetizers shaking nervously in my hand. “They aren’t leaving the suite alive tonight, honey.”
From the corner of my eye I saw Clancy stiffen quietly. “What are you talking about?”
My heart swelled with pride for her--the way she smiled through sudden fear that way. “What we’re saying, Clancy-pants,” from Mitzi below me, “is that your two contractor guests won’t be staying for dessert. In a manner of speaking, they are dessert. And Eddie, dear, the tray of appetizers, by the way, comes before the meal, I believe.”
Of course.
Idiot. I plucked the tray from the table, turned and stepped into the sunken living room, trying not to rattle the appetizers.
I came round the divan and served the guests first, trying to keep my face averted from Alicia’s ever-lovely, ever-probing eyes. Neither gentleman took an appetizer. I knew Alicia wouldn’t and Clancy shouldn’t, so I hemmed and hawed a second, then set the tray between them and got the hell out of there.
“Ed, are you serious? Alicia’s going to fang them!” Clancy came at my back.
“No, dear,” from the poodle, “you’re both going to fang the little buggers! That’s the latest plan. I take it Alicia failed to inform you?”
“Yes!”
“Yes, we were afraid of that, weren’t we, Eddie? Personally, dear I’d go for the tall suave one. His friend has a kind of Walmart pedigree, don’t you think?”
When I stole a look I could see Clancy was visibly shaken.
“We’re going to get you out of this, sweetheart!” I assured her.
She smiled at the taller man. “Are you?” mental voice trembling.
“Yes!”
“How?”
“Yes, tell her how, Ed! I’m dying to know.”
“We’re working on something,” I muttered.
“Are you all right?” Alicia said, turning with concern to her pale assistant.
My heart clutched.
“Fine!” Clancy covered quickly, “little headache is all…” And she started to reach for an appetizer absently, only making things worse--vampires don’t eat appetizers—caught herself and picked up the
entire tray instead, holding it out to their guests. “Gentlemen? Please, dig in! Ted? Pete?”
At least it diverted Alicia’s attention for a moment. She smiled winningly at the two men. “Yes, do have one! Dinner will be ready in a few minutes!”
The tall contractor, Ted smiled companionably but didn’t budge from his seat. “Thank you, none for me, believe I’ll save room for the main course!” He turned to his partner. “Pete?”
Pete begged off.
Suave Ted reached into his coat jacket then. “Anyone opposed to talking a little shop before dining?”
“Of course not!” Alicia sat back agreeably, spreading her arms across the back of the divan, one hand dangling over Clancy’s pale shoulder possessively. I think I saw Clancy shrink into herself a fraction.
Ted withdrew a small red digital camera from his coat. “This won’t take long, I promise!” fiddling with the camera’s buttons.
“Really, Ted,” from a congenial, lantern-jawed Pete, “boring our lovely hosts with family snapshots!”
Ted chuckled a soft George Sanders chuckle. “Strictly business, Peter. Though I suppose we’re all family in this venture, in a way, right, ladies?”
He looked around the room, spotted the 70” flat screen affixed to the wall beside him and strode over.
“I don’t like this,” from Mitzi.
“What’s wrong?” I said. Only I said it out loud like an idiot. Stupid!
The group in the living room turned in unison to me.
“Brilliant, Eddie,” from Mitzi under the cart, “keep practicing.”
I smiled embarrassment at the group in the living room. “Sorry, folks! Talking to myself! Old habit!”
Everyone looked at me. Except Clancy, who closed her eyes.
“Uh…dinner’s almost ready!” I fumbled. “So…that’s a good thing. Yep. And it smells delicious, don’t you think? Hey, wish I could join you!”
Everyone looked at me.
“I’m down here under the cart praying now,” Mitzi moaned, “that you will shut the hell up!”
Alicia stared at me from the divan. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Do I know you?”
I tried the old flummoxed look. “Me? No! I don’t believe so!”
Her eyes gleamed. “Are you sure? We haven’t met somewhere?”
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