Pillow Stalk (A Mad for Mod Mystery)

by Vallere, Diane

  His head dropped and he stared at the bleached wood floor. I was afraid of the question and afraid of his answer, but it was something I had to know. I waited. He pushed one leg out farther than the other and rested the heel of his sneaker on the floor, his toe pointing up, then nervously bounced it a couple of times.

  “I was going through a rough time. Getting desperate and thinking about doing some stuff that would have been a really bad idea. I was out of work and needed someone to talk to. She was right there, and it had been a long time since I talked to anyone the way I talked to her. I didn’t want to wait until morning so I broke in.”

  I didn’t like what I heard but if he’d been with someone, a woman, then he’d have an alibi. All he had to do was say who she was.

  “So you had an alibi. Whoever she is, whoever you’re trying to protect, wouldn’t she confirm that you were with her?”

  Unless he was with a married woman who had more to lose than to gain. It was the only scenario I could imagine, the only reason someone wouldn’t defend him or give him something to cling to during the murder investigation.

  “Hudson, why can’t you ask this woman to tell the cops you were with her?”

  “Because she’s dead, too.”

  My head started to spin.

  TWENTY

  “I was visiting my grandmother’s grave,” Hudson said. “I was low, lower than I ever remember being, that night. You know, you try to do the right thing, you work hard and think being honest and having integrity is going to get you somewhere, but it doesn’t. My friends were getting into some bad stuff, stealing and holding up convenience stores. I broke away from them before I got pulled into their shit, but it was tough. They thought I was going to turn on them. I thought about it, you know. I was at rock bottom, I thought I was going to lose the house, lose everything I had. So I went to her grave in Cox cemetery.”

  He laid back and reached a hand into the front pocket of his jeans, and pulled out a pristine white linen handkerchief that he unfolded. Nestled inside was a decorative silver hat pin.

  “This was hers. I carry it around with me as a reminder of what it was like before—before. She was the only person I had.” He stared at the hat pin for several seconds and I didn’t interrupt him. He rolled it between his thumb and index finger, as though it had special powers, and for a moment I started to wish that it did.

  “It was the first time I’d been there since she died. I didn’t like looking at that headstone and thinking about her under the ground. But that night I went to the cemetery and sat next to her plot and talked about everything. I told her what my friends were up to, and how I thought about doing it, too. It felt like I was talking to her. I could hear her voice. I could feel her presence. It was like I wasn’t alone anymore, like someone was there to make sure I made the right decisions.

  “When I left I felt better than I had in a long time. I drove home and saw a woman running down the side of the road and stopped to help her out. You know the rest.”

  “Hudson, why didn’t you tell me that the lieutenant was her boyfriend? It was in the papers. You must have known.”

  He stared at the ground. “I’ve got my own demons. If I want people to move on, it’s not my place to dredge up somebody else’s.”

  I couldn’t leave him alone, not now, not after he’d opened up to me about that. “Wait here,” I said. “I’ll be right back.”

  When I returned to the apartment it was with another pillow and blanket under my left arm and a tired dog draped over my right shoulder. I set everything down and set up camp next to him. Rocky’s eyes were only half-open. He walked toward Hudson and sprawled on top of his blanket and promptly fell asleep.

  “Madison, go back to your apartment.”

  “Not yet. I want to talk to you.”

  He reached a hand out and pushed a piece of blonde hair away from my forehead. I didn’t want to think about how I looked after the day I had. His finger was rough, calloused from working with his hands, but gentle as it traced down my cheekbone and under my chin. He pulled his hand away as if he realized what he had been doing and thought I’d find it inappropriate. The fact that I hadn’t stopped him should have clued him in that I didn’t mind.

  “Hudson, what did you and Sheila talk about during that ride?” I asked.

  He lowered himself to the floor and untied each of his sneakers, then set them along the baseboard before answering.

  “Not a lot. She was scared, but she didn’t want to talk about it. I asked her if she wanted to go to the cops and she said no. I got the feeling she knew who was chasing her and wanted to handle it on her own. I know he didn’t hurt her, not before I found her, only shook her up and took her clothes. She tried to act brave but when she flagged me down, she looked terrified. I’ll never forget the look on her face. Think about it, she was alone by the lake. Some weirdo in a mask shows up and chases her through the woods.”

  “And takes her clothes. She wasn’t hurt?”

  “Not that she said. And she didn’t look like she’d been touched. Just panicked. Like she didn’t know if she should run or not, if it was some kind of a joke. I think that’s why she didn’t go to the cops. She’d been drinking at the party, and someone in a mask shows up and demands her clothes? Almost doesn’t sound real.” He sank down under the light sheet and rested his head on the pillow.

  He was right, it didn’t sound real. Something was missing from the puzzle, but I couldn’t focus. The ice had helped my knee significantly, but my body and my brain were slowing down with the lack of sleep. I wanted to keep talking. There might be something he knew that I didn’t, but all I wanted to do was close my eyes. I folded the light comforter around me like a soft taco shell and rolled onto my side to face him. His eyes were shut and his even breathing blended with Rocky’s own puppy breaths. Whether or not I could keep myself awake enough to keep talking, Hudson was out cold.

  My internal alarm clock woke me first, and it took several seconds to figure out where I was. My joints were stiff. I looked at Hudson, still asleep, with his arm draped over Rocky’s fur. It was the most peaceful sight I’d seen in days. I cocked my head to the right and looked at the watch still strapped on Hudson’s wrist. Five-ten.

  I stood up and crept toward the door. Rocky’s head lifted from the blanket, but his eyes remained drowsy. I held a finger to my lips even though I knew he didn’t know what I meant.

  I tiptoed to my own apartment and changed into a bathing suit and pink sleeveless dress that zipped up the back. It had an oversized collar and matching necktie. It made me feel like a flight attendant. I slid my feet into my daisy flip flops and packed flat gold sandals in my bag, collected Rocky’s leash, and left, returning to the vacant apartment to leave a note to Hudson about where I’d gone. Seemed polite.

  Rocky had anticipated my return and sat right inside the door.

  I clipped his leash on and set the folded note on my pillow. Hudson rolled over as I left. Soon enough, he’d wake up alone.

  I drove to the Swim Club. A few familiar cars were parked in the lot. My posse. I walked Rocky to the front desk and paid my dues.

  “He can’t go with you,” said the man behind the desk. He held a powdered donut in one hand. A dusting of powder down the front of his shirt indicated that it was not his first one of the morning.

  “I’ll tie him up to the benches. He’ll be fine.”

  “No pets allowed in the pool area.”

  “Give me a break. It’s six in the morning. Nobody’s going to know.”

  “He can sit in the pet room third door down on the left.”

  “I don’t want to leave him alone.”

  “You could leave him in your car,” he said.

  “Listen.” I channeled my most polite lady-of-the-pool manner. “He is a well-behaved dog, smaller than most cats. He is
tired. He will sit in a corner and chew on a bone for the next hour while I swim. Is there nowhere else he can stay?”

  The man stared at me and I stared at him, until finally I pulled my wallet out and flipped through a couple of bills.

  “The manager’s office is right back here and he doesn’t get in until seven-thirty. I could maybe let him stay there, if, you know...” His voice trailed off.

  This was absurd. I pulled a twenty out of my wallet and handed it to him. “I will be back out here before seven-thirty.”

  “If he comes in early, your dog’s going into the pet room,” he called behind me as I walked down the faded hallway.

  I went directly to the pool deck and dragged the toe of my foot through the water. It was cooler than before. Someone had the sense to adjust the temperature. A few more people from the Crestwood crowd had migrated, sitting on the bleachers, mingling before they started their swim. These people were regular morning swimmers, more reliable than the post office. I waved to Alice. She waved me toward the bench where she sat next to Jessica, Andy, and a new younger man closer to my own age. Reluctantly, I approached them.

  “Madison! Did you hear? We can go back to Crestwood on Monday. Isn’t that good news?” Alice said.

  “That’s a relief. They wouldn’t let me bring Rocky in to the deck today.”

  “Poor guy got stuck in the pet room,” said Andy. “It’s stinky in there, kiddo.”

  I smiled.

  He scooted a few feet away from Alice and left a vacant space on the bleacher. “Have a seat.”

  No way, I thought to myself. Those are pinching parameters. “No, thank you, I’m going to put a few things in my locker and I’ll be out. Mind if I take the left lane this morning?”

  Amidst a collection of approvals and okays I walked away from the group. Something happened behind me because I distinctly heard Alice say, “Andy! Be nice!” I was happy to have the locker room for privacy.

  I returned to the pool deck while the older crowd continued with their stretching. Within minutes I plunged into the deep end. My body instantly tightened up, reacting to the cold. I sank to the bottom of the pool, then slowly rose, expecting my own temperature to adapt to that of the water. My flesh broke out in goosebumps. When I reached the surface I gulped a large breath of air then started swimming. It would take more than a lap and a half for me to adjust to the temperature.

  I did a flip turn at the end of the lane and started lap two. My legs trailed behind me, kicking ever so slightly. I wanted to warm up, to become one with the water, to relax and allow my brain to move into its own direction. The tranquility of the water might help me sort through details I otherwise couldn’t begin to understand.

  Five laps into my morning swim and I hadn’t adjusted to the temperature. My shoulders were stiff and I had a hard time getting my arms over my head in a basic freestyle. When I curled into a ball to flip at each turn the raised bumps on my thighs and arms brushed against each other. After six laps I stopped and rubbed my hands up and down my arms rapidly. Why couldn’t I warm up?

  “What’s wrong, missy? You don’t usually stop so soon!” said Andy.

  “What’s the temperature in here?” I called out.

  “Whatever it is, it’s hotter now you’re in it,” he called back.

  I didn’t have time for his one-liners. “Alice? C-c-c-an you ch-ch-check the temp-p-p-erature?” My teeth rattled against each other.

  The small older lady walked slowly to the corner of the pool where the thermometer was tied to the silver ladder. She reached into the water and immediately pulled her hand out, like the water had bitten her. “Oooh! It’s cold!”

  I started to swim to her, but couldn’t control the shaking. I hopped down the lane, my arms wrapped around my body. The red and yellow plastic flags that marked the fifteen feet from the end of the pool mark flapped above my head.

  “Missy! You’re blue!” said Andy.

  I could do little more than bounce on one foot, my other foot wrapped around my calf. I had to get out of the ice water. Shaking to my core, I submerged under the lane dividers and tried to swim under the surface, though my limbs were paralyzed with cold. When I reached the side of the deck I shook visibly. I couldn’t unwrap my arms long enough to get out of the pool.

  “Andy, help her!” I heard Jessica say.

  The old man wrapped a tight grip around my wrist. I went limp and he hoisted me out to my waist and laid me face down on the deck. Alice and a few other seniors covered my torso with towels while the old man grabbed at my inner thighs and dragged my legs out. His fingers bit into my flesh, but I didn’t care. I was happy to be out of the pool.

  “I’m getting the manager,” Andy said and left. The women crowded around me and rubbed at my limbs to improve my circulation. When one person’s hands left my arm or leg it started shaking all over again.

  The man from behind the desk appeared on the deck. “What’s going on here?” he asked.

  “C-c-c-cold,” I said between chattering teeth.

  “What do you mean cold? We keep the pool at eighty degrees.” He knelt down next to the silver ladder and fished the thermometer out of the water. “What the hell?”

  I focused on creating body heat instead of what the man was doing, but it was hard not to notice him shaking the thermometer and running his hand through the water. He stood up and crossed the pool deck in important strides, stopping only to unlock a small door and disappear inside a hallway. Moments later those of us within range heard a string of curse words and he reappeared.

  “We had an equipment malfunction. The heater’s off. The pool’s closer to sixty than eighty! Get her into the showers. Put her under hot water!”

  I tried to stand, with two old ladies on either side of me. I didn’t think we were going to make it. Slowly we advanced toward the locker room. Andy appeared at the door and guided me inside.

  “Andy! You can’t go in there!” chided one of the ladies.

  “She needs a man to help her. At the rate you old coots are going she’ll die of hypothermia.” He put his hand under my elbow and I shuffled next to him, for once happy that he’d taken an interest in me. “Okay, missy, which one’s your locker? I’ll bring your stuff closer to the showers.”

  “Forty-six A,” I said. He walked me to the shower stall and turned on the water. I stood under the stream, absorbing the intoxicating warmth like an addict getting washed over by a much needed rush. With my hands on the wall, I lowered myself to the floor and huddled under the spray.

  It was over an hour later when the manager offered his profuse apologies and handed Rocky’s leash back over to me. “Ms. Night, I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am that this happened.”

  “Did you call the cops?” I asked.

  “The cops? There’s no need to involve them in this. It was a system malfunction. We’re going to remain closed for today, tomorrow, too, if necessary, to make sure the pool is heated to the correct temperature.”

  “But what about sabotage?”

  He spun a ballpoint pen around in his fingers and clicked the point up and down several times before he spoke. “Ms. Night, no disrespect, but aren’t you a decorator?” he asked.

  “Yes, I am, but—”

  “And getting your name in the papers would bring you publicity, wouldn’t it?”

  “Are you insinuating that I had something to do with this?” I asked.

  “Absolutely not, I doubt you would be able to tamper with the temperature gauges even if you wanted to. It’s not an easy system to figure out, unless you’re a highly technical person familiar with this kind of equipment. Like I said, it was a malfunction. I’ve already called the service technician to come out and give it a once over, but since you’ve been in the shower the temperature of the pool has already risen three degrees. Maybe it was a
power outage. Maybe it was an electric surge. I’m not sure. But I see no need for you to take advantage of us for your own benefit. Face it, Ms. Night, accidents do happen.”

  I wasn’t so sure I agreed with him.

  TWENTY-ONE

  I drove home and took another shower, longer than the first, in the comfort of my own apartment. Maybe he was right. Maybe accidents did happen. Only, too many accidents had been happening to me or around me lately, too many to call it coincidence. Problem was, once he’d mentioned getting my name in the papers for publicity, I realized what a bad idea publicity would be. If someone really was after me, and this was a simple accident, publicity would expose a lot of details that would make me an even easier target. And if this wasn’t an accident then someone was closer than I thought.

  After my shower, I dressed in an aqua and white, three-quarter sleeve tunic, aqua jersey pants, and my yellow Keds. The temperature threatened to go well into the nineties but I couldn’t shake the morning’s bone chilling cold. I wrapped my knee in the bandage and pocketed a travel-sized container of Advil along with a picnic basket of bread, cheese, and fruit. Rocky led me down the hall to the apartment Hudson and I had shared last night. The door was locked and my knock went unanswered.

  I turned the key and stepped inside. The blankets were folded neatly with the pillows nestled on top. My note sat on top of my pillow, a new scrawl below my own. Madison, thank you for everything. Your generosity means more than you know. Take care, –H. It was short and sweet and I was let down there wasn’t more to it. I put it into my straw handbag next to the Advil and left.

  After dropping Rocky off at the neighbor’s apartment, I drove the white SUV, today’s rental, to the Mummy. It stood deserted, like a ghost of the theater that had been running only a week before. It was going to be difficult for it to bounce back from the impact of the murder. It had taken a long time, longer than anticipated, to reopen after being closed indefinitely by the original owners, passing through the hands of too many potential buyers who abandoned the project mid-way, and a few additional years of neglect colored with graffiti. And it had taken more money than anticipated, too, to finish the job right. Richard had relied on the generosity of countless people in Dallas to donate money, energy, skills, and enthusiasm to achieve his goal of owning and operating a cinematic treasure. A piece of film industry history. And now, it stood quietly alone, pieces of yellow crime scene tape flapping in the slight breeze out front, as if marking off the death of the business.