by J. S. Peck
Next, I googled the name Sally Smith in Nevada. I came up with hundreds. I narrowed it down to Las Vegas, Nevada, and came up with more than 20, including some repeats and even some listings of those who had died. I went through the five that seemed legitimate. Sure enough, I found Sally’s picture tying her to the Purple Passion Lounge and to the travelling advertising truck. All with her famous pose, of course. She wasn’t the only girl to work for the lounge; yet, she seemed to be the only one representing it. Why is that? I thought. And who is the owner of the lounge?
I felt Sweet Pea at my knee letting me know it was time to quit working. I looked at the clock and could see that it was indeed time to stop. It was time for her dinner --- and a glass of wine for me.
I intended to call Melissa’s mother in the morning to give her my condolences. I wasn’t sure yet if I would mention the money, but perhaps I would be able to learn more about Melissa’s life in Las Vegas from her mother. Maybe she could help me understand why Melissa had been murdered.
I was exhausted. Right after dinner, I fell asleep while watching one of the addictive series on Netflix. I awoke with a start. Sweet Pea was barking at the loud knocking coming from the front door. I tried to get my bearings as I headed downstairs to quiet the racket and see who was there pounding on the door.
I peeked through the peephole. I was amazed to see Brian Boyce. What is it with this man? I thought. Why is he here? “What is it?” I called through the door.
I heard him chuckle. “Are you going to keep talking to me through the closed door or are you going to let me in?”
“What for? What do you want?” I asked in a grumpy voice.
“Rosie, I’m not going to bite. I just want to talk to you. Please open the door. It’s important. You can keep it open while we stand here and talk if you want.”
I opened the door just a crack. Sweet Pea nosed her way out, all excited to have someone else here with us. Truth be told, she easily becomes bored with just me. As usual, Sweet Pea thought Brian was there to see her. She responded to that idea by dancing and prancing around him. He was delighted and reciprocated by oohing and aahing over her, exclaiming what an adorable, beautiful little dog she was. As all the cooler air inside the house was going out through the open door, I thought it was time to stop this love fest. “Okay, Cowboy, come on in.”
We sat at the glass kitchen table where he leaned forward looking me in the eye. “I know that you’re concerned about what happened to Melissa. What you may not realize is that anyone digging around will find out that a few weeks earlier she’d visited you here. They’ll want to know why. So, do I.”
I stared at Brian, not knowing what to say.
“Are you hiding something, Rosie girl?” he asked, using the same pet phrase my grandmother uses.
I could see concern growing in Brian’s eyes as I hesitated answering his question. “Rosie, if you are hiding something, you could be in a lot of trouble. That doesn’t make me very happy.”
“How does that affect you?” I retorted, amazed at the idea.
“Look, let’s just say I don’t like to see any woman get hurt. Also, I’m not sure you realize how important this would be for me if I can break the case. Especially before the police do.”
I could sense how badly he wanted to be the hero to catch the criminal, but I wasn’t ready to spill the beans on Melissa’s money. I waited, knowing there was more to come.
“Let’s make a deal then. Are you interested in what I have to say?” he implored.
“Sure, why not?” I answered without much enthusiasm.
“I know that you cared about your friend, Melissa, and want to see justice served. That women thing, right?”
I nodded my head in response, wondering where he was going with that.
“In my research on you, I know both you and your grandmother have helped the police many times in the past with your psychic abilities. My sources say you even helped bring down the “Grim Sleeper” serial killer of Los Angeles, right?”
Again, I nodded my head, reluctantly.
“Then, why not work together? As a woman, you’ll be able to find out some things that I can’t and vice versa. Two heads are better than one anyway, right?”
“I don’t know what you’re really asking me to do or how I can help you.”
“I think we could make a great team! We’d be working off the grid which I wouldn’t think would be that unusual for you and…”
Trying to envision how this could open the door for me and my new assignment for the magazine, I interrupted. “Let me think about it for a day or two, okay?”
“Fair enough,” he responded. “Just don’t take too long because time is flying by, you know?”
He eased Sweet Pea off his lap and rose from the chair he had sidled onto. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his business card. “My cell phone number is on here. If anything comes up, please call me. Just be careful. This kind of thing is done by a person or people who have no scruples. They aren’t afraid of a pretty thing like you. Believe me, I know.”
As he watched me roll my eyes at his comment, he continued. “I know you’re poking around so I will say it again, watch out! You don’t know what viper’s nest you can step into. And, for heaven’s sake, call me if you need me.”
Brian stepped closer. Before I could protest, he grabbed the back of my head pulling me toward him. He ended up simply kissing me on the forehead in a brotherly way. He patted Sweet Pea and left through the front door without looking back.
We had never addressed the reason for Melissa having come to my house. I wasn’t sure how I felt about anything that had taken place, and so with thoughts reeling, I gathered Sweet Pea to turn in for the night. Did it make any sense at all for me to team up with Brian?
CHAPTER 6
I tossed and turned all night long. So much so that Sweet Pea heaved a big sigh of frustration and left my side to stretch out at the foot of the bed as far away from me as possible. I understood. All my tossing and turning had annoyed me as well.
Weird dreams had plagued me all night long, causing me to stifle screams of protests. Many of my dreams were of me trying to run with feet heavy as cement from an unidentifiable source. I’d awakened feeling panicky, almost afraid to close my eyes again.
In many of these dreams, the face of my former fiancé mingled with the face of Brian, becoming one. I had once read that dreams were to balance your mind and thoughts. Something I hoped was not true for I couldn’t imagine how my nightmares were possibly helping me balance anything in my life! Instead, they were just upsetting me. I rolled over and got out of bed. I decided to start my day in spite of having no great urge to do so.
As I sat with my morning coffee, I began to ruminate. The idea of partnering with the most irritating guy I have ever met was astounding to me. What was I thinking? Yet, something urged me to consider it. Plus, it would make interesting content for my new column in the magazine.
As much as he thought I was hiding something from him, I felt as strongly that he was hiding something from me. When I closed my eyes and concentrated on the image of him, I saw a heart that was broken in two. I wondered what that was all about. What was going on? Maybe it was time to find out.
I showered, dressed and decided to see if Brian was free to meet me for a glass of wine at the local roadhouse not too far from where I lived.
He picked up on the first ring. “What’s happening?” he asked, using his famous greeting.
“Cowboy, it’s me, Rosalie.” I could hear what sounded like a chair being scraped back as if he were straightening up, coming to attention.
“Hi, Rosie. Have you made up your mind about the…you know what?”
“Not yet. But let’s discuss your idea further. Do you have time to meet me for a glass of wine at Sam’s Roadhouse tonight? Say around 5:30 p. m.?”
“For you, always, Rosie girl.”
“Good. See you later then.” I hung up before he could ask me anything more.
“Gram, I know you’re around,” I called out. “I can feel you smiling. I don’t want you to make more out of this than it is. Hear me?”
I felt a puff of air and knew she had taken off again. I thought it might be a good idea to get my Tarot cards out. I wanted to pick my card for the day to see what it would convey to me. I shuffled the cards and spread them out on the kitchen table. I picked a single card from the pile. It was the two of Cups. This was a very interesting card. Its love and relationships aspect means to let your soul spread its wings, talking things over, a reconciliation among other things. A partnership. That’s exactly what I was hoping to do with Brian – talk things over, and perhaps spread my wings a bit.
As I went to gather the Tarot cards to put them back into their special pouch, a card fell on the floor. I knew what it was before I even picked it up. Sure enough, the Death card. This time goosebumps spread across on my entire body – a sign of truth and prediction. The first person that came to mind was Sally. I felt a little sick.
Please God, no more deaths like Melissa’s, I prayed. The only way I knew to get hold of Sally was to dial back the phone number left on my phone from the day before when she had called me. I dialed it not knowing what I would say that wouldn’t sound dumb. But I didn’t need to worry. Instead of it being Sally’s private number, there was a recording saying my message could not be received. Did she call from a public phone booth? I wondered.
I busied myself with working on my next body/mind/spirit article for the magazine. This time I would be explaining in further depth how the Law of Attraction works and how to use it to your highest good. It’s so amazing to me to see how powerful we are when we send loving energy out and have that love energy returned to us in so many ways, from so many sources. Of course, it works the same for negative energy.
The day slipped by with Sweet Pea coming to get me at her usual time of 4:30 p. m. letting me know me enough is enough. It was now time to play with her and then feed her. The thing about Sweet Pea is that I don’t really need to wear a watch for she has her own inner timing device that’s pretty accurate. I never even set my morning alarm anymore.
I dressed more carefully than usual and applied just a touch of mascara and eye shadow. My cheeks were pink enough. I didn’t really need lipstick for my lips were rosy by themselves. Besides, is there anything more annoying that having your lipstick coat the outside of your wine glass? Some thought it sexy. I did not.
When I got to Sam’s Roadhouse, I was pleased to see Brian already there. He waved me over to his table tucked into the corner. He was wearing a big grin and gave me a thumbs up, probably because I was on time. He didn’t know I’m usually early for everything.
I slid into the seat across from him saying, “Hello there!”
“Hi! What’s your poison? Red or white?”
“I would love a glass of their specialty Syrah from Australia, please.”
“Nice choice!” Brian said as he called the waitress over. He asked, “How about some of their nice shrimp cocktail to nibble on, okay?”
I nodded in agreement and waited for him to finish with our order. “So what are you thinking, Rosie?”
During the day, I had thought hard and long about our possible partnership. I had no clear idea of his motive beyond the obvious. Something was driving him, and I wanted to know what it was. The waitress came with our wine and shrimp. After she left, I asked, “Cowboy, you seem to be hiding something from me.’
“Just trust me, okay?” he asked as he winked.
“It’s not a simple matter of trust to me. It’s a matter of knowing enough about each other so we can trust each other.”
“Okay,” he said with a twinkle in his eyes. “You start and I’ll see if you can tell me something I don’t already know.”
“Already know? What do you mean? What do you know?”
“Rosie, I’m a newsman and I’d be a fool to ask anyone to partner with me if I didn’t know anything about them. To begin with all you have to do is google your name. You come up as a graduate of Cornell with a degree in English Literature, a minor in finance. You also have a degree from the School of Metaphysics. You write for Women Living Well magazine with a column on body/mind/spirit. Do you want me to go on?”
“Wow, I guess you know your stuff, all right,” I said, impressed. “I want you to know, I also googled you. You graduated from USC, also with a degree in English Literature and a minor in international business. You then went on to get a BA from Ashford in Social and Criminal Justice, which I find interesting.”
“I’m impressed, too. Glad you did some homework.”
“Now, let me ask you a personal question if I may. Who is the person who broke your heart?”
His face froze with surprise, then fell. His eyes watered. “How do you know about that?”
“I don’t really, but every time I think of you, I see a broken heart. Are you willing to tell me about that?”
His eyes continued to water and I could see that I had found his soft spot. He looked away, lost in his own thoughts. After more than a minute of silence, he turned and faced me with an anguished expression. “To answer your question about the person who broke my heart, it’s someone I cared for deeply.”
“Oh, my. I’m so sorry. You don’t have to say anymore if you don’t want to.”
“Well, I think you’re probably right. We shouldn’t be hiding anything from each other if we are going to be partners in crime. No pun intended,” he added with a crooked smile. I remained silent knowing I was doing just that --- already hiding things from him. He heaved a sigh. “It happened a long time ago…”
I had a quick vision of a young woman, her eyes dull and void, her body composed of a mass of tears. I knew she was no longer alive. I could sense it had been his sister. I wondered if he felt guilty, perhaps not unlike what I’d been going through with thoughts of Jeff. Angrily, he pushed his drink away. “I swore from that day forward…”
I placed my hand on his arm. At my expression, he remained silent. I was mortified by what I’d heard and the vision I’d had. I knew whoever it was had endured a senseless death – senseless because of the lack of kindness and concern for another human being who had suffered at the hands of another. I looked at him, his eyes drilling into mine, and I felt my heart cracking. “Is that why you got your degree in Social and Criminal Justice?” I asked.
When he simply stared at me and didn’t respond, I had my answer. I tried to lighten the mood and teased, “Does that mean that as partners we’re going to be like Bat Man and Robin?”
Brian looked surprised and then laughed out loud with a full belly laugh. “Thanks, I needed that! By the way, I didn’t come to Las Vegas by chance. I transferred here to sign on with Channel 5 News. I have some unfinished business here. I knew this would be a good place to get my revenge,” he said as he struck a villainous pose.
I felt a pang of remorse. I instinctively knew he had withheld information from me as I had him. Perhaps, I had met my match.
During our conversation, Brian had ignored his phone ringing. When it began to ring again for the third time, he picked it up and listened to an excited voice speaking to him. I felt a swish of energy and my heart sank. I knew without doubt what had happened.
As Brian’s face flushed with excitement, he pocketed his phone and turned to me. “There’s been another murder. You’re not going to believe who it is!”
“Sally Smith,” I said with certainty.
He looked at me in surprise. “’You got some ‘plaining to do, Lucy’.”
“You have no idea, Cowboy.”
CHAPTER 7
Brian grabbed my hand, pulling me to his parked car around the corner of Sam’s. He insisted we ride together. That t
urned into a scary car race as we dodged in and around other drivers, making me squeal in fright.
“Hold on tight, Rosie!” Brian hollered. “I don’t want to miss the chance to be first at the crime scene. The station’s already sent my camera man to meet us there. I don’t want to be late.”
We arrived in no time only to see Sally Smith’s prone body being carried out of an apartment building on a stretcher. Oddly, she laid there without a body bag almost as if they had been in a hurry to get her out of there. The blanket covering her body slipped. You didn’t have to be close to see that her throat had been slit and was still oozing blood. As I took in the expression of fear frozen on her face, I felt faint and had to squat down. My Lord! I thought. What’s happening? And why?
Brian’s camera crew had managed to set up the lights and all the rest of the paraphernalia in record time, making him the first reporter on the scene. He was in his glory. He began reporting what was a very disturbing murder, the second within a week’s time. I stood far back from him. I did not want to appear a part of the reporting crew in any way. A crowd had gathered and I disappeared into it.
“Well,” some lady puffed, “this is what happens when you show off your body like she did, parading her stuff all through town. Not to mention being a part of the sordid happenings at that disgusting club.”
“Oh, Gertie,” her friend implored. “No one deserves this.”
A man pushed through the crowd heading toward the building demanding, “Outta my way.” I didn’t recognize him, although his demanding voice sounded familiar to me. Was he another newsman? Something about him disturbed me. That old feeling of danger gnawed at my innards. Who was he?
I turned to the person next to me and asked, “Who’s that man? Do you know his name?”
The man standing next to me looked at me oddly. “What man?”
“The man who just pushed through us!”