1 Hot Scheming Mess

by Lucy Carol

  “Oh, the creepy goodness of it,” said Madison. “I don’t normally go for this kind of thing. But look at me!” she laughed. “Great job.”

  “Thanks,” said Target. “I like special effects makeup.”

  “You’re good at it.”

  “I have makeup artist friends that were hired at the last minute this morning. Two guys want a professional job on their costumes. The pictures from today are going to be fantastic.”

  “These contact lenses rock. I’ve got to get some just to have them on hand.”

  “You should try the red lenses sometime. Vampire chic.”

  “I want to take a picture of this. Let me get my phone.”

  The doors to the convention were open by now and Zombie Prom would be in bloom. She hurried into the other room to the nightstand where she had left her phone on the envelope of old pictures. Her tote bag sat on the floor next to the nightstand. She grabbed the phone with one hand while she tried to put the envelope back into her tote bag with the other, but the envelope slipped, spilling dozens of old pictures, fanning out on the floor. She plunged into a squat, balancing on her toes to save the photos, picking up each one with quick hands.

  In that instant, one photo on the floor caught her eye as well as her breath. Her hand stopped in mid-air as she reached for a picture of a young Jerry with a young Vladik, standing together in front of a large banner that said International Student Exposition. They were shaking hands and smiling for the camera.

  Jerry knew damned well who Vladik was. The old photo lay askew on top of the rest of the evidence of Jerry’s long career.

  She teetered, her balance pulling her backward to slump to her butt. She sat like a child with the photos, like toys on the floor, between her knees. Breathing through her mouth, she blinked at the truth in front of her. The mild cloudy effect of the white contact lenses in her eyes did nothing to soften the blow.

  Wait, wait, wait—why would—She tried to calm down and put the pieces together.

  At Choosy Chews, her mother had told her that these older photos of Jerry were from the FBI archives. If Vladik Sakharovsky was KGB, that would make him and Jerry counterparts of one another. This photo implied they worked the student expo together, celebrating some kind of cooperation. Years later, Jerry’s long involvement with local high schools brought him to her mother’s high school, courting her to choosing a career with the FBI.

  Grandpa always had a deep hatred for Jerry but never had said why. Yet he never stopped Jerry from coming to their house or taking young Ann Cruz on field trips. Jerry was even present during Ann’s visits from college. Madison always wondered why Grandpa had allowed it.

  Maybe her grandfather never stopped it because he couldn’t.

  The only person who could blackmail Vincent Cruz would be the one who knew he had kept the baby. The one who took that photo from the bushes. The one who waited in those bushes to see who found the baby, because he was the one who left the box there to begin with.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  She pulled out her phone, trying to hit the right buttons and pull up Jerry’s number. Her tears stopped as her anger grew, her hands shaking. She didn’t know why she was bothering to give him a chance to explain, a chance to deny it. This was why Grandpa needed to get out to FBI Headquarters in DC. Grandpa wasn’t just confessing, he was ratting out Jerry in a place where Jerry had no authority to stop him. Uncle Jerry was the enemy.

  She stopped, her hands dropping. What was she doing calling him like this? The reason Grandpa had said not to tell Ann was probably because he was afraid it would get back to Jerry! He knew Ann would go to Jerry for help, or if she knew more of the circumstances, might go to Jerry to confront him just like Madison had been about to do.

  A small, faraway voice said, “Hello? Madison?”

  The small voice was coming from the phone in her hand, which had lowered into her lap. She looked down at her phone, a viper in her hand. She needed to proceed carefully. Jerry had been ratted out by now, but if he didn’t know that, how far would he go to keep this secret? If he did know, how far would he go to silence the witnesses? She raised the phone to her ear and said, “Yeah, it’s me.”

  “Did you locate your grandfather?”

  In a snippy tone she said, “Sorry, Jerry. Things don’t always work out the way we want.” She made a pained expression at her own lack of self-control. Her attitude was showing and she needed to dial it back fast.

  Jerry’s voice was low key and deliberate. “You do want me to help Vincent, don’t you?”

  She picked up the photo of Jerry and Vladik, bringing it closer to her dead white eyes as she stared at it. It mocked her. Her voice came out much more compliant. “Of course, Jerry. I would love that.”

  “I was hoping you could help me handle this privately. It would be kinder to Ann never to have to know. A benevolent deception.”

  God, she wanted to throw the phone. Grandpa recalled those very words right after his fight with Vladik. If there were any doubt left in her, Jerry had just killed it.

  He said, “I’m out of time, Madison. Where is he?”

  She looked down at the liquid latex wounds on her arms and legs. “I don’t know, Jerry. He’s not answering his phone.” She wondered what a real wound like that would feel like. She wondered how to deliver a wound like that. She already knew she could swing a drill if she had to.

  “I see that you cleaned up the mess in his living room.”

  The son of a bitch was keeping tabs on her.

  “Well, you know the old saying,” said Madison. “A woman’s work is never done.”

  “You don’t sound surprised that I knew,” said Jerry.

  “I’m getting used to surprises lately.”

  “You did a nice job. You’d never know those old boys had a knockdown, drag out fight. Even the duct tape was neatly wadded up and thrown in the trash. But did Vladik Sakharovsky ever see you? That’s what I want to know.”

  A nasty edge slipped into her voice. “What does it matter?”

  His voice, on the other hand, became very warm and full of concern. “Madison, honey, I know you don’t understand yet, but it’s very important that you tell me this one small thing. Did Vladik see you?”

  She looked down at the picture of Jerry and Vladik in younger days. Vladik’s smiling eyes in the picture were a younger version of the eyes that had smiled at her from the floor as she had run out of Grandpa’s front door.

  “No,” she said.

  “But you know he went to see your grandfather, right?”

  Obviously he’s already figured that out. “Yes.”

  “And you must have seen Vladik because you seemed to recognize him when I showed you that picture.”

  “Vladik was unconscious when I got there,” said Madison. “He had duct tape on him, but Grandpa made me leave right away. It was mostly the way his eyebrows touch in the center that I recognized in the picture.” And the bruise that I gave him.

  “How much did Vincent tell you about him?”

  “It’s your turn,” she said. “You tell me what this is about.”

  There was a long pause. Jerry said, “Vincent should never have pulled you into this. It’s irresponsible of him to put you in danger. But I have big shoulders, and I can still keep your family safe. But not if we don’t hurry. We can still keep your mother’s heart from being broken, and we can still keep your grandfather out of prison. Madison, I can protect you and your family, but only if you tell me where your grandfather is.”

  “What’s the point?” Madison was sick of the games. “Vladik already found my mother. Isn’t that all he wanted? You showed me the picture. It’s over. Why would you…”

  Then it hit her.

  In the picture he had showed her, her mother’s suit jacket had been draped over her left forearm. She had been rubbing the back of her neck and looking down at the sidewalk. It was just like the moment when she’d been trying to control her tears over the memory of Grandpa
falling apart after the funeral. Someone had taken a picture of them at that moment. Aaron Reed was across the street about then. When Jerry showed her that picture, she was actually looking at that same moment from a different angle. The photo had been manipulated to make it look like Vladik had been there with Ann.

  Exasperated, Madison expelled her breath and said, “It wasn’t real, was it?”

  She heard a soft chuckle. “No, actually. I needed to confirm that you recognized him. This can still be contained. But I don’t understand why you’re playing little zombie games when your mother’s happiness and your family’s safety are at stake.”

  “You know a lot of things, don’t you, Jerry? You know they had a big fight in Grandpa’s house. You know that I cleaned it up later. You know about my little zombie games. Yet you can’t find my grandfather. Is it possible he’s pulling a fast one on you?”

  Another long pause, then the gentle beep she always heard when a caller hung up.

  She was furious with herself. She had to go and open her mouth and be snippy, showing attitude, practically boasting that her grandfather was up to something. Jerry might not know how much she had found out, but he sure as hell suspected. With a dark secret to protect, he needed to secure silence from her grandfather. Maybe he would try to use her to secure that silence.

  She had to get out of here. If she stayed, it was just a matter of time for him to find her.

  She looked up and saw Target standing nearby, watching her with eyes of concern, the ludicrous rubber dagger sticking out of her forehead.

  Madison said, “If you were trying to be a unicorn I think you did it wrong.”

  But Target wouldn’t laugh. “Madison, what’s the matter?”

  Standing up, Madison grabbed the tote bag and snatched out the blonde wig she had stuffed in there right after the Bumbling Waitress gig. “I have to get out of here fast. I’ll explain as I go, Target, but first, can I borrow your clothes?

  *****

  Madison watched as Target opened the door and stuck her daggered head around the edge of the doorframe, looking up and down the hallway. Target whispered over her shoulder, “It’s empty except for one lonely zombie down the hall near the elevator.”

  Madison said, “Let’s go.”

  They slipped out of ExBoy’s room, both of them still wearing all the zombie makeup and special effects, but Target was now wearing Madison’s shorts and tank top from yesterday, and carried Madison’s tote bag. Madison wore Target’s jeans and the faded Robot Moon Productions t-shirt, while carrying Target’s dark blue backpack. Her dark hair was completely covered underneath the blonde curly wig that now had fake blood smeared down a few strands.

  They hurried down the hall in the direction of the elevator. The zombie standing there had a drink in one hand while holding up his cell phone with the other. He appeared to be drunk, and the smell of whiskey seemed to confirm it. In a deep voice he said into his cell phone, “Get off my ass. I told you I’m on my way,” then hung up, as Target hit the elevator button. Surprised that anyone would already be drunk this early in the day, Madison was nonetheless impressed by his elaborate costume and makeup. He was dressed as a zombie fairy with pointy ears, soft leather woodland tunic and belt, and a pointy little hat. He had iridescent skin although the skin around his eyes was dark and dead looking. He wore striped tights on his legs, but the iridescent skin on his muscular arms was smooth, making Madison think he must have had all the hair on his arms waxed off. Blood appeared to have run from a large throat gash and dried down the front of his weathered leather tunic.

  He stepped past Madison, impatiently hitting the elevator button again, and Madison noticed little gossamer fairy wings on his back. They looked just like the pair she used in her fairy godmother gigs. She couldn’t suppress a heavy sigh as she thought about how easy life was a few days ago compared to now.

  The elevator ding announced the door was opening. Coming from within the elevator Madison heard a woman’s sharp intake of breath while another woman whispered, “Oh, my God,” upon seeing the bloody undead in front of them. Three young women in long matching strapless gowns made of sapphire blue satin and two men in tuxes appeared to be members of a wedding party. Madison, Target, and the zombie fairy stepped into the elevator, causing the women to quietly back all the way up to the wall, their manicured hands pressing their lovely dresses inward, away from the new occupants. Madison did her best to act casual and fought the urge to apologize for existing.

  One of the men’s hands hovered near the buttons as he asked, “Ground floor?”

  “Yes,” said Madison. “Thank you.”

  Target could not take her eyes off of him. His light brown, short faux hawk stood crisply on top of his head. Neatly groomed in his tux, there were tattoos peeking out from under his collar. Target smiled at him as the elevator door finally closed, the fake blood streaks on her face crinkling a little from her smile. The elevator began its descent while Target pointed at the little boutonniere in his lapel, saying, “Nice.”

  He pointed at the dagger coming out of her forehead and said, “Cool.” They stood there looking at each other as Target’s smile grew coy. Madison rolled her dead white eyes and felt like she should look away since they seemed to be having a moment. To look away, she turned to the nearest woman and said, “I love your dress.”

  The woman blinked. “Thank you,” she said, and looked away. Everyone stared straight ahead, except for Target and her man. The sound of ice tinkling was heard as the zombie fairy tilted his glass upward, draining the last drops. The elevator stopped at the second floor for the wedding party. The women held their dresses as close to their bodies as possible, their shoulders pulled high and elbows tightly inward as they stepped past and out of the elevator. The tuxedoed men stepped out after them, but Target’s man looked back with a smile as the door closed.

  As the elevator door opened on the ground floor, the zombie fairy bowed to Madison, his deep voice saying, “After you.” Madison peered out at mostly normal looking life already in progress in the hotel lobby, with the occasional zombie fan dotted here and there, all making their way in the same direction. Stepping out, Madison and Target quickly navigated their way across the lobby, following signs to the large convention ballroom, joining up with more zombie fans as they went, till they were part of a larger group.

  Passing through the main doors, they entered the giant ballroom where all the vendors’ booths were lined up side by side, their black curtains and black tablecloths lending some dignity to the event as well as defining boundary lines between the booths. The sound of hundreds of human voices in a cavernous space with high ceilings hit them like it had a life of its own. A carnival of the undead and the living crowded the aisles and jostled in lines.

  Madison was surprised to see so many different age groups represented. Although there were plenty of people made up as zombies in various stages of decay, she also saw that half of the people had skipped the costume and makeup option having shown up mostly to see their favorite horror movie actors or graphic novel artists, perhaps hoping for an autograph or a photo opportunity. Madison tried to imagine Jerry Rosser being in this crowd and couldn’t picture it.

  She pulled up the backpack’s straps, getting the pack into a comfortable position on her shoulder rather than on her back. She and Target parted without saying a word to each other, pretending not to know each other anymore as Target turned left heading deeper towards the center of the ballroom, while Madison continued walking straight ahead.

  Madison had felt she had no choice but to quickly brief Target on the serious situation she was in. She had asked Target to go back to ExBoy’s booth and tell everyone not to acknowledge Madison if they happened to run into her anywhere in the convention. She decided that the best way to hide was to stay where so many people would be in costume, and she would be able to blend in by not looking like her normal self. With her dark hair pinned up under a bloody blond wig, her green eyes whited out, her arms cov
ered in bloody wounds, and her face sporting a fake open gash on her cheek, she felt she had a real shot of hiding out in the open while keeping an eye out for Jerry.

  The convention was in full swing. All of the partially decorated booths that Madison had seen last night were now fully outfitted in scary glamour and fully stocked with whatever the owner was selling. Posters, t-shirts, comic books, and action figures were just the start of what awaited the fans here today. There was creepy jewelry, home decorations with a dead gothic bent, tattoo artists, and actors with toothy smiles. Zombies poked around the booths looking for exact change in their bloody palms as they made a souvenir purchase or bought a snack.

  She tried to stay near a small, excited group of zombie fans that happened to be walking in the same direction, hoping she would appear to be one of them. She kept her stride casual, stayed in the back, making a point of looking around to admire the festivities the way she supposed a zombie fan would do. But as she turned her head, she caught sight of Aaron Reed, dead ahead. Her little group was walking right toward him, as she was tagging along behind.

  He walked toward the small group but didn’t seem to notice her as he spoke into a cell phone, his eyes scanning the crowd. He was actually wearing a suit, of all things, not exactly blending in. A few days ago, his tall good looks and dreamy eyes had turned her head. Today, he symbolized a power and authority that she feared. She kept behind the people of the little group as they passed, not daring to let herself look back at him in case he had turned around, too.