by J. S. Peck
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, lady. No one came through here!”
It’s happening again, I realized. A realistic premonition. “So sorry. Guess I was mistaken.”
As I closed my eyes, another vision came to me of the man I had just seen. He was fiercely arguing with another man. It appeared he was threatening him. Who was he?
“Rosie, are you ready to go?” asked Brian. He was standing over me with a questioning look. “Are you okay? You’re white as a sheet.”
“Sure thing,” I responded, knowing more trouble was brewing. A headache was gathering strength. Goose bumps covered my body, a sure sign that my premonition was going to happen. I was too tired to think straight. I asked Brian, “Would you mind dropping me off at home? I’ll pick my car up tomorrow.”
Brian, of course, was pumped up with the excitement of his reporting and all that was happening. “Not so fast. We still need to talk, remember?”
I groaned, but realized he was right. “Okay. I’ll make some coffee and then we can talk.”
When we arrived at the house, Sweet Pea went crazy with excitement at seeing Brian again. He seemed thrilled with all her attention. It was interesting to me that my cute little dog could so easily turn into a twirling ball of fur when any man is around. But I didn’t want to spoil Brian’s good fun and tell him that.
After Sweet Pea settled down next to Brian on the couch, I began to tell Brian everything I knew about Melissa and the meeting with Sally Smith. Everything but the money part. I don’t know why I didn’t. I felt I was not supposed to reveal that to anyone just yet.
It was late and we both were exhausted. I cleared the coffee cups, taking them into the kitchen. By the time I returned, Brian was sound asleep on the couch with Sweet Pea curled up next to him. I decided to let him stay where he was. Something so foreign to me I amazed myself. Without another thought, I grabbed the throw from the back of the couch, placed it around Brian, picked up Sweet Pea, and headed upstairs to bed. We’d have to wait and see what tomorrow would bring.
CHAPTER 8
For once, I slept through the night without needing to get up. At our regular wake up time in the morning, Sweet Pea licked my face and pranced around on top of the bed. Then she must have realized that her newfound playmate was still downstairs. Before I could grab her, she bounded down the wooden stairs with her toe nails clacking their own tune. I pulled on my pink cashmere robe I always throw across the boudoir chair close to the bed and hurried after her. Before I reached the bottom of the stairs, I could hear Brian’s laughter.
“Hey, there! Oh, nooo! Stop! You’re tickling me!” His laughter was contagious. I chuckled with him as Sweet Pea jumped on his stomach trying to reach his cheek to give him good morning licks.
“Good morning, Cowboy!” I called out. I left them on their own and went into the kitchen to start the coffee.
A few minutes later, Brian came into the kitchen and sat on one of the counter stools. He greeted me with a crooked smile. He seemed subdued. Not flirty, which I appreciated for I had no intention of getting romantically involved with him or any man.
After I handed him a cup of coffee, he suggested, “Let’s plan out what each of us can do today to see what we can find out. How about you see what you can find out about Melissa and I’ll follow the trail with Sally Smith?”
Just like a man, I thought. Go for the big boobs. As if he could read my mind, he added, “Melissa for you since you knew her best, right?”
I nodded my head asking, “Do you have time for some breakfast?”
“Oh, shit!” he exclaimed as he looked at his watch. “I’ve got to run and get to the office. I’ll call you later. You’ve got my cell phone number, right?”
He turned away before I could answer. “Good luck!” I called to his retreating back.
“Right on!” he responded, and he was gone.
Unhappy to have him leave, Sweet Pea looked at me accusingly as if I had said something to chase him off. I ignored her questioning expression.
With another cup of coffee in hand, I went to the patio to plan my day. This would be a good day to call Melissa’s mother with my condolences and see if I could help her in any way. It would probably be a good idea to contact Melissa’s roommate as well. Before I contacted either one, I wanted to fully understand more of a stripper’s life and the world she lived in. Thinking I would get answers quicker from google than reading chapters in the book, “The Las Vegas Madame,” I turned to my computer. I’d read the book later.
I love my computer! It has so much information that’s right at hand. Gone are the days of going to the library, trying to find and gather the wanted information which is usually spread throughout several books and takes a lot of time to get together.
When I was younger, any thought of a stripper automatically turned to Gypsy Rose Lee. She was the American burlesque entertainer famous for her striptease act. I found it intriguing that at the same time Gypsy Rose Lee was stripping, her sister was the famous actress, June Havoc. What a captivating pair! But what remains fascinating to me even today is that Gypsy Rose Lee gained respect not only as a striptease act, but as an accomplished actress herself. In addition, she became author and playwright whose 1957 memoir was made into the stage musical and film, “Gypsy.”
So when did a striptease performer become simply a lap dancer or exotic dancer or any other name than the more classy act of performer? As I began reading on one site, the image of the strippers as known today evolved through the 1960s and 1970s (which I learned were mostly female with only about 8 percent male). That made sense to me because the Woodstock Festival event in 1969 seemed to significantly widen the spread between traditional behavior and the wilder behavior of fewer or no restrictions.
I read further to learn that by the 1980s, pole dancing and their highly-explicit way of dancing, as well as the increased number of male strippers, became widely accepted, frequently portrayed in film, television, and theater. That was certainly true, I thought, for I had watched several of those more recent movies myself.
I flipped to several other sites explaining stripping. I was surprised to learn that the American forms of stripping minimized interaction by strippers with customers, reducing the importance of tease in the performance in favor of speed to undress. That must be why we’ve lost Gypsy Rose Lee’s famous technique, I thought. We know that today clients can pay for lap dances, private dances, a “trip to the champagne room” and more erotic interactions. As I continued to read, it seemed to me that even strip teasing and all it was meant to be has gotten out of hand, just like a lot of things in today’s society.
Now what I needed to learn was how to categorize the different acts and what Melissa’s role had been. For instance, I had read that a stripper today is one with the willingness to undress in a public, adult entertainment place, while topless performers keep bottom clothes on and go-go girls keep both top and bottom clothes on.
Was Melissa a house dancer (working for a particular club) or a feature dancer (touring a club circuit making appearances)? How was she paid? Was she considered an independent contractor? If so, she would have been susceptible to unstable pay, no health benefits and would have to pay fees to the club for technically renting their stage. Ah! There could be trouble, I thought. But where did all that money stuffed in her envelop come from?
I wasn’t sure what Melissa’s mother would be able to share with me. I knew I had to tread lightly for most parents of strippers aren’t too happy with their children’s choices. I remembered on Melissa’s note to me, it had her mother’s address in South Bend, Indiana. I also remembered that her mother’s last name wasn’t Johnson but Givens. I googled her name and with a stroke of luck, I remembered her street address was School Street. There it was - her telephone number from the white pages software program for South Bend. “Lord! There really is no such thing as privacy anymor
e, is there?” I mumbled.
I picked up my cell phone and dialed the number for Mrs. Givens. I was pleasantly surprised to hear a sweet, somewhat frail voice within three rings. “Hello? Is this Mrs. Givens?”
“Yes, it is. Who are you?”
“My name is Rosalie Bennett. I knew your daughter. I wanted to pay my condolences for your loss and to say I’m so sorry for Melissa’s death. Is there anything I can do for you?”
“What can you do for me now? It’s a little late for that,” she sniffed.
“I was wondering if you’re going to be coming to Las Vegas any time soon. Are you are planning to have some kind of service for Melissa?”
At this, Melissa’s mother began to cry. “N…no. The police won’t release the body yet. They told me that under the circumstances, it’d be better if I had her body cremated before they released it. They told me not to bother to come right now.” She sniffled some more. “In fact, they offered to save me the trouble of coming at all. They’d be happy to send me her ashes at a later date after everything had been taken care of.”
I found that extremely strange. When did the police department become involved in funerals for their victims? “Do you need me to check on anything for you? Would you like me to gather whatever items the police didn’t remove and send them to you? Would that be of help to you?”
I heard a slight pause in her sniffling. Then she spoke. “That would be lovely, dear. What did you say your name was again?”
“Rosalie Bennett. I’m a friend of Melissa, remember?”
“I’m sorry. Yes, of course. You sounded so much like the other girl that called, asking me all those questions. My mind is muddled. So much has happened in the past few days.”
“Mrs. Givens, was the other girl who called you Melissa’s roommate?”
“I don’t think so. I think she said her name was Sally. But she wasn’t making much sense. She kept asking me if I’d received a package from Melissa and would I please help her. She said she was in trouble. I didn’t know what she was talking about.”
“I wonder how she knew where to contact you?”
“The same as you, I suppose. Melissa.”
That didn’t make sense to me. Melissa had told me at the time of the reading that she hadn’t let anyone know where she grew up or anything about her background. She wasn’t about to either, she’d said. She didn’t want her mother to know what she was really doing in Las Vegas --- stripping. I hadn’t thought much of it at the time for I believe that many of the girls probably feel the same way. And didn’t the girls have an unspoken pact not to rat on each other? So what was up with Sally? What had she said to Melissa’s mother?
After saying goodbye to Melissa’s mother from my cell phone, I promised to be in touch with her soon. I turned from my computer and spotted my outdated office phone. It was partially hidden underneath a pile of papers I had thrown onto the back corner of my desk. I felt goose bumps as I removed the papers and saw a blinking red light indicating a voice mail message. I already knew whose it was. I was stricken by the fact that it was too late for me to be of any help now.
When I pushed the button, the phone automatically announced the date and time of the voicemail. It had come in at 5:20 p. m. yesterday, the time I was on my way to meet Brian at Sam’s Roadhouse. I listened as Sally’s frantic voice, “Rosalie, you’ve got to help me, please! They think I know where to find whatever Melissa stole from them. But, I don’t! They’re going to kill me! Call me, please!” Noises came through the line for a second or two and then all went dead.
My hands started to shake and at first, I felt hot, then cold. My God! If only I had told her I had the money, could I have saved her life? Why was I holding back from letting anyone know about the money? Each time I thought I should report it, I sensed a NO. Why? I reached for the stuffed chair in my office and collapsed onto it. What have I done?
CHAPTER 9
I knew I should call Brian to confess my part in the murders. Before I did I was prompted to look at Melissa’s envelope again. Something wasn’t adding up that two murders had been committed for the sake of $23,345. Nothing to sniff at, but still…
I went upstairs and shut my bedroom door. I went to my secret hiding place to pull out Melissa’s package. I turned the package upside down and dumped out the money, the note to me and the letter Melissa had left for her mother. I picked up the letter and decided I’d gone this far so I might as well read it for any clues as to what was going on.
“Dear Mom, I’m sorry for all the trouble I have caused you. Yes, I agree it is time to come home…” There were more personal messages that I was uncomfortable reading. No clues there. So I concentrated on counting out the money again. $23,305! Something was wrong for me to be off $40. I’m very accurate in counting out money or doing sums. My heart began to beat wildly. This couldn’t be! Calm down, I said to myself. The other money must still be in the envelope. I picked it up holding it upside down again and shook it. Nothing came out. Odd. I peeked inside and could see the bills there. They were stuck on something. I opened the large envelope wider and saw what looked like torn pages from a small notebook taped to the inside.
I pulled the pages out and two twenty dollar bills dropped to the floor. I saw a note taped to them with an extra piece of tape that’d caused all three to stick to the inside. Unease came over me when I saw there was a second note addressed to me! “If you are reading this, I most likely am dead and you are in danger just because you have these in hand. Although they don’t mean anything to you because they are in code, they mean a great deal to the person who will be destroyed if this information gets out. I took these as insurance that no one would hurt me or my family. Do with them what you will. I’m sorry.”
My head was pounding in sync with my heart beat. I wasn’t even sure whom I could turn to or whom to trust. Even Brian. I needed a break from all of this. I packed everything, including the letter to Melissa’s mom, back into the envelope. Then I stuffed it into my safekeeping spot. I decided after I see what things of Melissa I could gather and return to her mother, I would slip the letter to her mother into the mix.
I was beside myself with worry. There was only one way to lessen my stress. As ridiculous as it may seem, I knew what would help me --- shopping. Besides, I needed to replace my tired, worn out black boots that I haven’t been able to part with. Now was as good a time as any to replace them, especially with the great sales going on for last season’s boots.
It was a peaceful retreat. Oddly, Sweet Pea didn’t seem to care she wouldn’t be joining me. It’s easy for me to relax when I shop because I don’t think about my worries. I’m simply on the hunt for whatever I need. If I tried on one pair of boots, I must have tried on 20! I ended up purchasing a pair of tall, black leather ones and a pair of short black suede ones. I was triumphant to have gotten both pairs on super sale and my spirits lifted.
At home, I happily burst through the garage door lugging my packages. As soon as I opened the door, I found Sweet Pea right there to greet me. Strange. She wasn’t wiggling around greeting me as usual. Instead she was sitting there staring deeply into my eyes. She was trying to tell me something. She walked over to the front hall closet and stood in front of it wagging her tail. She looked at me without barking, which was even stranger. As goosebumps crawled along my body, I realized that someone must be inside that closet.
I called out in a loud voice, “Sweet Pea, you need to go out. C’mon, ‘potty’ time.” Just as I swooped down to pick her up and make our escape, someone crashed through the hall closet door. He pushed me to the floor, knocking my head in the process. Before I could regroup to see who it was, he’d made his exit. I struggled to get up onto my knees particularly since Sweet Pea was on top of me, licking my face. What to do next?
Since I wasn’t really injured, first things first. I went into my office and wasn’t at all surprised to see every
thing torn apart. As I put it all back in order, my heart sank. I wasn’t sure what this was going to mean for me.
I knew it was time to call Brian and tell him what happened. I still had no intention of telling him about Melissa’s package and what was in it. After all, there was no use putting him in danger, too. What he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him.
Brian didn’t answer his cell phone so I left a message for him to call me when he could. Then, I placed a call to Melissa’s roommate, Mary.
The telephone rang and rang with no answer. I began to panic thinking perhaps there’d been another murder. Suddenly, I heard a drowsy voice, “Yesss, who’s this? What do you want?”
“Hi, Mary. This is Rosalie Bennett. I’m helping Melissa’s mother gather some of Melissa’s things from the apartment to send to her. Is there a time that works for you when we can get together?”
“Not right now. I’m not even awake yet. What time is it, anyway?”
“It’s 1:30 in the afternoon.”
“Wow, I’m sleeping in late for sure. Let’s see, how about 4 o’clock to meet?”
“Sure. That works for me. What’s the address?”
After giving me the address, Mary hung up and I stood still. I wondered what the next best thing was for me to do until 4 o’clock. I really needed to sit down and organize in my head the events that had taken place since first meeting Melissa.
“Gram, this is a mess! What am I going to do now?” I beseeched, not expecting an answer.
She surprised me. “Rosie girl, I wish I could interfere, but I can’t. Just follow your heart.”
“Great,” I mumbled. “Since when do you not interfere?”
As I felt her shaking her head at me, I said, “Sorry, Gram. I know you’re right. I just have to figure this mess out as soon as I can.”
I heard her parting words floating in the air, “What I can tell you is that things aren’t what they seem.” And then, poof! She was gone once again showing me a red rose for love.