Trudi Baldwin - Sammy Dick, PI 02 - Acid Test for Yellow Flower

by Trudi Baldwin

  I checked for her pulse. She was so high, I thought she might be dead, but her pulse throbbed away, a little fast, but steady enough. She was face up, so I covered her with a quilt I’d seen at the bottom of the bed before the lights went out. She began to snore. I tiptoed my way to the door and quietly sneaked out. No way was I going to turn on the light and wake her.

  All that effort expended on my part, and all Geo was going to hear was her snoring! It hardly seemed fair, but time to rejoin the party and place my fourth and final listening device. I had no idea who my next candidate would be. I decided to let my infamous intuition and opportunity collide to point the way. With those erudite thoughts, I wandered back down the narrow hall and joined the land of the living.

  The party had progressed way beyond normalcy in the land of the living and shot out into outer space by the time I reached the kitchen and living room area. I looked all over for my pie. Nowhere to be found. In fact, the party goers had scarfed down the entire apple pie in my absence. No problem, time to get another Skinny Girl Cosmo. No such luck there either. One bottle lay empty on its side on the counter. The other two empties had been stuffed in the trash.

  Hayden’s sound system blared at highest volume. The bass sounds thumped so deeply, my chest pulsated in and out with the relentless beat. I’d become a human sub-woofer. In this unusual state, I surveyed the room.

  Lazy Larry and some blonde girl I didn’t know were sucking on a shared reefer on the furthest end of the couch. Handsome Hayden and Tattooed Tanya had leaped onto what must have been a very sturdy thick-legged oak coffee table and were rocking their pelvises in and out to the bass beat. At least Tanya and Hayden had their clothes on. Squeezed together on the nearer side of the sofa, three dudes I didn’t know were rating Hayden’s and Tanya’s pelvic action, each holding up printer paper, pulled from a package that someone had scrounged up that lay near their feet. The three guys kept grabbing paper from the open package and hastily scribbling numbers on it using black markers someone must have found, like in the Olympics. To earn ratings, Tanya and Hayden would squirrel their hips around in some new, creative dance moves and the three raters would scrawl in their numbers, display their ratings in the air and shout out various remarks, such as, “That’s a ten.” or “”Nah, it was only an eight. I don’t have a hard-on yet.” or “I give it a three, dudes, only a three, until they strip. Do you hear that, Tanya? Your ratings will skyrocket through the roof, when you strip off your top. I promise.” or “Yeah, Tanya, show us some more of those tits, er, I mean tats!” and everyone, including Hayden and Tanya laughed uproariously.

  I could only imagine what Geo was thinking or, hopefully, at least hearing huddled outside in the cold in the NDE Camry.

  At that point, the front door burst open again and in strode Fake Freddy. Ah ha, I thought, intuition and opportunity collide, once again, and donkey number four arrives to be tagged. I fingered the final tiny device in my purse and made my way through the pulsating crowd to the door. I figured the head of HR showing up at a party would be a downer for almost anyone, but this party was so far gone by now, no one even noticed or cared that Frederic Gadstone the Third had arrived.

  Strangely enough, Freddy didn’t seem to care either. I watched as his eyes quickly scanned the raucous crowd, not alighting anywhere or showing any disdain as he witnessed so many of his employees engaged in outrageous behavior on a mid-week night. He didn’t even blink as he watched Lazy Larry suck down a huge puff of marijuana. Who knew how many of these people would even show up for work tomorrow? A whole lot of hang-overs were happenin’ right before our very eyes, but Fake Freddy didn’t seem to care. A man on a specific mission? I’d soon find out.

  I gingerly guided my stilettos through the debris, weaved my way through the party goers and stepped up on the landing close enough to converse with Freddy over the roar of the party.

  “Hi Fredric, how are you? Some party, huh? You look like you’re looking for someone specific. Perhaps I can help?” I towered over the diminutive man, especially in my mile-high, black stilettos. He was dressed in perfectly ironed dockers and shiny loafers. An equally ironed white dress shirt was tucked neatly into the beige docker pants—a man who followed very strict rules of self-deportment. I’d perhaps met my diametrically opposed opposite, a once in a lifetime experience in the vast universe of possibilities. Okay, perhaps even I was getting a little tipsy myself.

  I observed him carefully. Was it my imagination, or did the man seem frantic? “Yes, perhaps you can help me, Parker. Have you seen Marissa, Miss Marissa Blout, my admin? It’s important that I relay some important information to her tonight, and she isn’t answering her cell phone.”

  Now was my chance to pin the tail on the final, unsuspecting donkey. I unpeeled the last sticky device from the strip, grasped it between my index finger and thumb and swung my arm around the little man’s shoulders, firmly pressing it under the right-hand underside of his shirt collar. Another excellent placement, if I must say so myself.

  Just then, the room of partygoers began chanting behind me in unison, “Ten, ten, ten, ten, ten, ten …”

  I spun around to see what all the fuss was about. Both Hayden and Tanya were still dancing erotically on the coffee table, but they’d finally flung their tops to the floor. The entire room was now chanting and clapping around them: a crazed fan club, undulating in and out like an orgasmic amoeba. The three raters waved their signs in the air, with the number thirteen followed by an exclamation mark written on one, two thousand on the next and a bazillion written on the third.

  Several thoughts spun rapidly through my brain as I watched the scene. 1) Damn, Hayden’s abs look fine! I’ll have to ask him about his exercise routine, and 2) Tanya’s tits outdo even her tats. Finally and most importantly: What will happen to my well placed listening devices now that they’ve been flung to the floor?

  Oh, well, I thought, I have a live one on the line here with Fake Freddy. I leaned in close to him to overcome the roar of the music and the nearly out-of-control crowd, “Allow me to show you where Marissa is, Fredric,” and I led the way back down the narrow hall to the bedroom where the vampireth lay snoring like a dock worker.

  I opened the bedroom door and switched on the light. The little nap must have restored her some because Marissa sat bolt upright, took one look at Fake Freddy and hissed loudly, “What the fuck are you doing here, Fredric? I thought I told you to never, ever touch me or come near me again!”

  Freddy had the presence of mind to turn quickly to me and say in his pseudo-politician’s voice, “This is a private matter, Parker, with repercussions and history beyond your understanding. If you could please just shut the door and leave us alone, I would appreciate it.”

  No shit, Freddy. “Certainly, Fredric,” I replied graciously, backing out and almost shutting the door. I leaned my ear in near the slight crack, but it was very hard to hear over the chanting in the other room on top of the bass beat of Hayden’s sound system. Through the crack in the door, I couldn’t hear any distinct words from Fake Freddy, just soft, placating murmurings. Marissa’s strident voice, however, screamed out over the din of the party and I could hear most of her words quite clearly.

  She yelled at Freddy, “You are a motherfucker, Fredric. How many times have I told you that you are a motherfucking bastard?”

  Murmur, murmur, murmur from Freddy.

  “How many times have I told you that I never want to see such a naughty boy again? Not ever! Do you understand me? There will be hell to pay.”

  Murmur, murmur, murmur from Freddy.

  “I hate you. I hate you. I hate you, you motherfucking bastard.”

  Murmur, murmur, murmur from Freddy.

  “Come to mama, you bad, bad, little boy. And I mean Now!”

  Moan, moan, moan from Freddy.

  Some smacking sounds followed.

  Suddenly from the front of the house where the dance party was rocking stupendously, I heard a voice shout out, “Police! P
olice coming up the front walk! Hide everything!”

  Chapter Fifteen – The Getaway

  When everyone started screaming about the arrival of the police, an old song by Paul Simon popped unannounced into my brain. It went something like this: Just slip out the back, Jack. Make a new plan, Stan. Don’t try to be coy, Roy. Just get yourself free. I decided right then and there to slip out the back, Jack, and make a new plan, Stan, and get myself free. I’d placed my listening devices the best I could. Quite effectively, I might add. It wasn’t my fault that every single recipient of a device seemed to have flung off all their upper clothing and then some! It remained to be seen if Geo captured anything of value on his end, but right now it was time to slip down the hall and out the backyard before I was rounded up in some kind of marijuana, strip-party sting. My dad and brothers, not to mention Mountain, would freak!

  If recollection served me correctly, Hayden’s master bedroom had a sliding glass door to the backyard. I ran down the narrow hall to Hayden’s bedroom and, sure enough, there was the glass door partially obscured by some drapes. I ran over to it and pressed down the little handle embedded in the door, but when I tried to slide it open, it wouldn’t budge. I surveyed the edges of the door frantically. Then spotted a dowel rod slipped into the groove where the door slides open. I shoved my index finger down into the little space between the dowel rod and the door jam and pried it free. Yay! It slid open. I jumped out into the backyard onto a small, uncovered patio consisting of a slab of concrete. A dim light shone out into the yard. Hayden had placed a few ratty deck chairs on the concrete slab beside a table with a giant ashtray in the middle filled to the brim with cigarette butts.

  As I surveyed my surroundings for the best escape route, the bushes rustled ominously and a large German shepherd mix dog burst from out of nowhere and leaped for my throat, teeth bared and growling viciously. Yikes! Why hadn’t Hayden mentioned a dog? What to do? I backed off, flinging up my forearm to defend myself and managed to push the fierce beast back without incurring a bite. Yet.

  Rapid-fire, my brain sorted through my options as the dog now crouched in front of me ready to spring for my throat again. I could return to the party and take my hits there, but that seemed ill-fated. Then the thought came to me: I’m a dog person, right? The answer came back, not really … I was certainly no dog whisperer. I couldn’t even whisper a golden retriever into submission, much less a fighting-mad German shepherd protecting his territory who wanted to tear a gaping hole into my throat.

  But when I considered the implications of being rounded up by the police, dealing with the mad dog seemed more promising. I decided to give it a try, using my most calming voice. He was hunkered down in front of me growling but uncertain.

  “Whoa boy, whoa boy. It’s all right.” I placed my hand with its backside toward his nose and tried to find a non-threatening balance between submissiveness and “don’t fuck with me.” I realized upon closer inspection that though he was quite large, he was only about one or two years old. That emboldened me. Maybe I could dog whisper my way out of Hayden’s backyard?

  “It’s okay. Come here, boy. You want your ears scratched? Do you have a ball?”

  At the word ball, he cocked his head. I might be on to something. I could see the rotating glare from the squad car lights flashing through the trees in the side yard. Hurry! Hurry! Yet I needed to remain calm with the dog.

  “Do you have a ball, boy? Go get your ball. Go get it.” I had no idea if the dog was a boy or a girl dog and I certainly wasn’t going to get down on my hands and knees to conduct a weenie check at this critical juncture, but he seemed to be responding to the here boy part.

  He cocked his head back the other way and assessed my sincerity. Then he bared his teeth and growled. I looked right back at him. “I’m serious.” I nodded reassuringly at him, “Serious as a heart attack, boy, go get your ball. Time to play.” He crouched deeper, ready to leap at my throat again; then he made his decision and leaped off into the bushes instead, snuffling around for a few precious seconds. He finally emerged proudly carrying a dirty, old tennis ball. Breakthrough for the backyard dog whisperer!

  “Well, aren’t you a good, little doggie!” I crooned, as he actually brought it right to my hand, with dog-hope brimming in his eyes. “Such a good, doggie.” He let me dislodge the ball from his mouth. I tossed it to the farthest away location in the yard I could see and scanned my surroundings for a way out. A side gate seemed the most likely escape exit. I was banking on the police officers being inside the house at this point, not outside.

  Just then the German shepherd leaped back toward me with the ball. “Good boy. Good boy!” I threw it in a new direction, vowed to tell Hayden to exercise his dog more, and edged my way around the house to the side gate where the squad car lights pulsed ominously through the trees. No sidewalk. My stilettos kept sinking into the soft grassy backyard until I reached the gate. Hallelujah, it opened. I slipped through, grabbed my car keys from my little chainmail purse, walked as calmly as possible down the block, probably dripping clumps of mud off my stilettos, beeped open the Mazda and gently drove away. No one the wiser. I’d just successfully slipped out the back, Jack and made a new plan, Stan. Yay!

  I called Geo from my cell phone. He answered on the first ring.

  “Police have raided the house,” I informed him.

  “So I heard,” he answered back. I could tell he was probably freezing and bored out of his mind.

  “I sneaked out the back and am heading home.”

  “I’m freezing and heading to Kathy’s for the night, but I think I’ll remain in place for a while longer, until the police either arrest everyone or just shut the party down for the night.”

  I was impressed at his dedication and said so, “Wow, I’m impressed at your dedication, Geo.”

  “Me too, especially since I’m cold, but I’m picking up a lot. It’s garbled when listening live because all four transmitters are emitting sound simultaneously, but when I re-run each and listen to them singly later, perhaps I can learn more. ”

  I didn’t have the heart to tell him that everyone with a listening device on had thrown off their clothes, but maybe they’d get dressed again to avoid arrest? At least these were my hopeful thoughts as I sped home. I hadn’t quizzed Geo as to his findings or, more likely, the lack thereof. I knew he’d tell me when he was good and ready, besides, I was whipped. The stress of being two people simultaneously and sneaking listening devices onto potential suspects had worn me out, not to mention post-traumatic stress from the police raid. Time for bed.

  Chapter Sixteen – Post-BYOE Hump Day

  The BYOE Hump Day Party had pretty much wiped out the entire Yellow Flower assembly line when I arrived bright and early at eight AM for work on Thursday morning. Everyone who’d been at the party had called in sick, except me. TMI Trinity, who’d missed the party, and I had to try and run every single station the best we could. Ancient Annie and Carlita, the Cool One, also absent from the party, were forced to forgo their leadership roles for the day and chip in too. All of this ‘roll up your sleeves and help each other’ camaraderie turned out to be exciting and fun, and we only made a few errors in production when the day was done. Working under pressure with TMI, Ancient Annie and Carlita also gave me time to assess each of them up close and under fire. As a result, I wrote all three of them off my suspect list. Ancient Annie and Carlita were so intent upon delivering a quality product that my intuition said they’d never put the company at risk by injecting acid into the lotion. Each demonstrated a personal integrity and commitment that was off the charts indicating, at least to me, that they’d never put the company or the product at risk.

  Though she was also committed to her job in her own way, TMI Trinity fell off my list of suspects for other reasons. During break time, we wandered out to the smokers’ table where I could concentrate on talking to her alone, without the usual crowd clouding our conversation. She told me she only allowed herself three cigar
ettes a day, and I believed her. With shining eyes, while she smoked her first cigarette of the day, she explained to me how she was studying at nights to be a TV announcer—her fervent dream. She hadn’t attended the Hump Day Party because she was in school last night chasing her communications degree, which she’d almost achieved. Only one more semester to go. No wonder her voice sounded smoothly professional and she carried herself with so much self-confidence. As she told me of her dream, her eyes lit up so much, I wrote her off my list of suspects right there on the spot. No one with that much invested in her future is going to put it at risk.

  I cut our first break a little short with TMI because I needed to phone Gloria and arrange to meet her that evening as planned. I’d been dreading the phone call and the visit with her, but when I sneaked off to dial Gloria, she answered sounding distracted. Her mind was clearly elsewhere. Tonight was not a good night she informed me. Another one of her businesses was also in trouble and she’d have to attend to it. How about tomorrow, Friday, at four PM? We could go for a horseback ride and discuss all of my findings.

  I told her I’d have to leave work early tomorrow then to make it by four, and she told me to fake a dental appointment. Both requests were okay by me. First of all, I still had nothing, nada, zilch to report to her as far as a solid lead, so I wanted to put off having that conversation as long as possible. Maybe Geo would uncover something in the meantime, something solid? One could only hope. Secondly, I’d much rather be riding a horse through the Sedona hillside, than manufacturing Yellow Flower for the rest of the day on Friday, even if I did have nothing to report. Apparently, my commitment to the product line was much less than Carlita’s or Annie’s.

  A problem arose when I tried to report my intended dental appointment to the front desk and to HR, as requested by Ancient Annie, because I discovered that both Marissa and Fake Freddy had called in sick too. Or maybe no one was sick and the whole lot had been pulled into the police station and booked? If that were so, my escape out the back had been especially fortuitous, thanks to my dog whispering techniques and quick thinking. I congratulated myself, which is one of my signature strengths, according to Geo. I then returned to my job, or several jobs, as it were, since almost everyone was out sick or arrested, until I finished out the day.