by Abigail Keam
“No,” said Lillian shaking her head. “That’s just not Bob. He’s confrontational, but he would never destroy personal property. He’s worked too hard all his life to obtain possessions. That’s not his style.”
“But hitting you is?”
“When he’s been drinking. He wasn’t always like that. Just in the past few years.”
“Do you know what triggered it?”
“He didn’t get a promotion at work and then his father died, giving his brother most of the inheritance. Bob changed after that and couldn’t seem to shake his anger. So he took it out on me.”
“Did you have him arrested?”
Lillian looked shocked. “Heavens no! I didn’t want a scandal like that. I . . . I just learned to cope.”
“Hmm,” responded Officer Masterson, taking pictures of the car. He leaned against it while finishing his report. “Here’s a copy of the report. Do with it as you will. Also give me the busboy’s name and I’ll go talk to him.”
“Jeremy Salvador.”
“That kid! Doesn’t surprise me. He’s been in trouble since he was twelve. I’ll track him down and talk to him.” Officer Masterson paused. “You should go to the battered women’s support group. I think you are in denial about the violence in your marriage.”
“No, I’m not,” protested Lillian. “Why do you think I ran away and want to get a divorce?”
“We have a list of doctors who treat battered spouses. You should get checked out. You might have something wrong and not know it.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“You can bring a horse to water, but you can’t make it drink,” said Officer Masterson, resigned that Lillian was not going to take his advice.
“Or you can bring a horticulture, but you can’t make her think.”
Officer Masterson laughed. “Dorothy Parker. Right?”
Lillian noticed that Officer Masterson had a bright smile. “Yes. It’s vintage Dorothy Parker. Not many people know who she was now.”
“I love her quick wit. I had to do a paper on her in college.”
“You took a course in English Lit?”
“Yes, I did. I can even quote some Shakespeare if given a moment to remember. In fact, I have a book of his sonnets at home. Getting back to Parker . . . ummm, let’s see. If all the girls from Yale were laid from end to end, I wouldn’t be a bit surprised,” quoted Masterson.
“If you want to know what God thinks of money, just look at who he gave it to,” retorted Lillian.
Masterson grinned and gave Lillian a curious look.
Lillian knew that he was thinking of how a college-educated woman had gotten herself into such a fix and was judging her.
But Officer Masterson wasn’t thinking that at all. He was thinking how violence entered the lives of women no matter how educated or rich they were. Being battered wasn’t something that happened only to lower-income women.
Lillian abruptly threw the report into the front passenger seat of her car and got in. “Thanks for your help. I can take it from here.”
Officer Masterson nodded and wondered why Lillian had changed from being friendly to . . . couldn’t get away fast enough. But he had worked long enough in the public domain that he didn’t take her sudden change personally.
But Lillian did.
18
It was a Wednesday night and Lillian was working the late shift at the Pink Flamingo Motel until the office closed at midnight. It was one of those nasty nights in Florida when the rain pounded the tiny island of Key Largo and lightning could be seen far off on the horizon.
Since the manager’s quarters were right off the office, Lillian had the luxury of staying in her apartment unless she heard the phone ring or the door to the office open.
It was almost eleven-thirty and Lillian was already settling in for the night. She had made hot chocolate and was snuggling in her favorite chair, getting ready to read a new Josiah Reynolds Mystery when the office phone rang. Sighing, Lillian rose and went into the office.
“Pink Flamingo Motel. May I help you?” she asked.
Silence answered her.
“Hello? This is the Pink Flamingo Motel. May I assist you?”
Again . . . silence.
Lillian frowned. “Hello! I’m sorry, but I can’t hear you. If you can hear me, please call from another phone. Thank you.” Lillian hung up. “That’s odd,” she mumbled to herself. Thinking no more about it, Lillian went back to her comfortable chair and picked up her book. She was just getting to a good part when the phone rang again.
Lillian rose and went into the office again. “Hello. This is the Pink Flamingo Motel. May I help you?”
Again . . . silence greeted her.
“Hello? I’m very sorry, but if you are the person who called a few moments ago, I still can’t hear you. It must be the storm. Please call from another phone or call in the morning. Thank you.” She hung up again.
Lillian stood for a moment and stared out the office window into the blackness occasionally illuminated by a dim streetlight here and there. The Pink Flamingo was amply lit, but it seemed misty beyond the property boundary. Her fingertips tapped on the office counter.
The phone rang again.
Startled, Lillian hesitated to answer, but then thought she was being silly. “This is the Pink Flamingo Motel. May I help you?”
Silence greeted her.
“Hello? Who is this? Answer me,” demanded Lillian, becoming angry.
Silence.
Lillian slammed down the phone. She dialed *69 but the phone on the other end just rang and rang and rang. The caller ID said private number. Lillian checked to see if the other two calls had been the same.
They had been.
It was not yet midnight, but Lillian locked the door to the office and checked the windows. Usually she left the apartment door open so she could hear late night calls in case there was an emergency with one of the guests, but tonight Lillian shut the apartment’s door, locking it as well.
For the next hour she tried to read her book, but the office phone kept ringing and ringing.
Lillian did not answer it. Deep in her soul, she knew silence would greet her. Lillian felt uneasy and frightened.
And she didn’t like it.
19
“What’s wrong with you?” asked Aussie Jack. “You look like crap.”
“Gee, thanks Boss,” answered Lillian, barely looking up from her coffee cup.
“You’ve got big circles under your eyes. You look like a raccoon.”
Lillian looked at her boss and made a face. “Can’t you say something nice?”
“Give.”
Lillian shrugged. “When I’m on the night shift at the Pink Flamingo . . .”
“The Last Chance Motel. You’re almost a native now. Need to keep up the traditions.”
“When I’m on my shift, someone keeps calling and calling, but never saying anything. The calls go on all night. I can’t get any sleep.”
“How long has this been going on?”
Lillian thought for a moment. “About eight days now.”
“Have you told Eva?”
Lillian shook her head. “No. I don’t want to be a bother.”
“So you think the calls are directed at you and not random calls to the motel?”
“I’ve asked the other clerks and even Eva if they had been getting strange telephone calls, but they say no.”
“What about the caller ID?”
“Private number and when I *69 no one picks up.”
“You need to tell Eva.”
Lillian shook her head. “She’s getting ready for her wedding. I’m not going to throw a shadow across it. I’ll tell her when she gets back from her honeymoon and that is if the phone calls continue.”
“I think that’s a stupid decision, but suit yourself,” commented Jack while lifting a box of bourbon.
Making a face, Lillian said, “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
Jack
nodded toward the kitchen. “Get something to eat. I can’t have you fainting on the floor because of sleep deprivation and starvation.”
Lillian smiled. “You’re a sweet man, Jack.”
Jack leaned toward her. “Don’t tell anyone, will ya. It will take away from my pirate reputation.”
Laughing, Lillian made her way to the kitchen.
Deep in thought and looking through the window at the Atlantic Ocean for a moment, Jack pondered about Lillian’s situation. She was so used to being badly treated that Lillian didn’t recognize serious danger when it confronted her.
He didn’t like it . . . the car vandalism, the phone calls. He noticed that Lillian didn’t walk to work anymore even though the motel was just across the highway. He had heard her tell other waitresses that she thought someone was following her when she walked home.
Jack hurried to his office to call his wife. She would know what to do.
20
Lillian opened the door to the office and greeted Eva working behind the front desk. “I got the tulle you wanted,” gushed Lillian.
All the staff had reported that day to help Eva set up the decorations for her wedding. Eva and her fiancé, Mike, were being married at the Pink Flamingo.
Eva chewed on her newly manicured nail.”
“Oh, don’t do that, Eva. You’ll spoil your nails.”
Eva jerked her hand away from her mouth and giggled. “Nervous, I guess. Tonight I’ll be married. I can’t believe it . . . and to a great guy.”
“And with a ready-made family to go along.”
“Yes, I can’t wait until Jenny is my daughter officially.”
“So where are you going on your honeymoon?”
Eva blushed. “The entire family is going to Paradise Island in the Bahamas.”
“Another island and with Grandma and the kid?”
Eva held up her hand. “Yep, couldn’t get out of that one, but Mary is bringing Jenny home early so Mike and I get to spend a few days by ourselves. Then it’s back to work. We’re only taking a week off. There is just too much to do. I still don’t have our new house in order.”
“I hear it’s fantastic.”
Eva grinned with pride. “Mike pulled out all the stops on it. I think it’s marvelous. Once I get settled, I’ll have everyone over.”
“Don’t worry about the motel. We can keep it running for a week, even if it is without you harping on everything.”
“Oh,” replied Eva, flustered. “Just like to keep my hand in.”
“You know, Eva, you should think about offering destination weddings. The entire motel looks so wonderful and the decorations for your wedding . . . well, it looks like a fairyland. Young brides would love this kind of look. I think you should really consider it. You could offer packages and it would bring in a different clientele.”
“I’ll think about it. You may be right. It could bring in more guests during the slow season, but we are understaffed for such an expansion. I have my hands full as it is. Who would take over such an expansion?”
Lillian puffed up her chest. “I could. I love weddings. Nervous brides don’t fluster me. We could try a couple weddings as a test sample and then you can decide if you really want to expand in that direction.”
“I don’t know. I’ve got a lot on my plate right now.”
“Speaking of nervous brides.”
Eva laughed. “I’m literally shaking. Who would think that since I’ve been married before, but I’ll think about what you said. You may be right, Lillian.”
“Take your time. I’m not going anywhere. We’ll talk about it when you get back from your honeymoon.” Lillian went into her suite feeling great. It had been a long time since someone had bothered to give her ideas some thought.
Eva poked her head inside Lillian’s quarters. “Hey, Lil. Some flowers just came for you.”
“Really. I wonder from whom.”
Eva handed Lillian a long box with a large pink ribbon on it. “Looks like they might be roses. Something going on that you’re not telling me?” teased Eva.
Lillian looked at the box, befuddled. “I have no idea who would be sending me flowers. They must be for you.”
“Nope. See. Your name is on the box. Hey, I’ve got to check on the decorations. Can you watch the office for a moment? Heather is supposed to be here in ten minutes to cover the office.”
“Sure. No problem. You run along. Heather and I will take care of the front desk today.”
As soon as Eva bounded out of the office, Lillian placed the florist’s box on the counter and searched for scissors to cut the ribbon. Looking out the window, she made sure no one was coming toward the office. Cutting the ribbon, she slowly lifted the lid off the box.
Lillian gasped.
Inside were twelve dead red roses with a card placed on them.
Lillian gathered her courage and read the card.
DEAD ROSES FOR A DEAD LADY!
Crying out, Lillian pushed the roses off the counter. Clutching at her chest, she tried to calm herself. Had Bob found her? Was this his way of making life miserable for her by playing practical jokes? Somehow, Lillian didn’t think it was Bob.
Maybe she should call Officer Masterson to see if he had talked to Jeremy Salvador.
Lillian hurried to the other side of the front desk and cleaned up the mess. She threw the card inside the florist’s box and then placed it in a closet in her apartment. She didn’t have time to deal with the dead flowers right now. She had to help get ready for a wedding. Maybe tomorrow she would go to the florist and dig around a little, but right now she didn’t want anything to spoil Eva’s wedding.
Not anything!!!!!
21
It didn’t take Lillian long to drive to Marathon and find Officer Masterson in his office.
“Hello there,” greeted Officer Masterson, moving some newspapers out of a chair. “Have a seat.”
Lillian sat with the box of dead roses on her lap. “I’ve been wondering if you had a chance to speak to Jeremy Salvador.”
“I went to his home, but his mother said that he was at school in Jacksonville. I called the school and they reported that he was enrolled and attending classes.”
“And?”
“According to his class schedule, he couldn’t have been in Key Largo at the times your car was damaged or you thought you had been followed.”
“Oh!” replied Lillian, her brown eyes wide with dismay. “I just don’t understand it.”
“I also tracked down your husband.”
“Oh no!” cried Lillian.
Officer Masterson held up his hand. “Discreetly. I have connections in Cincinnati. They got back to me that your husband has reported to work every day since you left.”
Lillian exhaled. “That’s a relief.”
“That doesn’t mean he couldn’t have hired someone.”
“I don’t think so.”
“You never know. Maybe he was sore that you left.”
“I don’t think it’s Bob. But you’re right. One can never be sure.” Lillian handed over the florist’s box. “This was delivered to the motel.”
Masterson opened the box and whistled. Balancing the florist’s box on his knees, he read the card and then handed the box back to Lillian. “Someone really doesn’t like you.”
“So you think this is serious?”
“I would take it as so. You want to tell me about the phone calls?”
Lillian looked surprised. “How do you know about those?”
“Aussie Jack called me.”
“Figures. What do you think?”
“I think you have a classic stalker who’s stepping up his game. I would take the death threat very seriously.”
Tears escaped from Lillian’s eyes. “I love it here. I hate to have someone run me out, but what else can I do? And why me?”
“Who knows with these freaks! It could be anything . . . the color of your lipstick, the way you dress, you remind them of their second-gr
ade teacher.”
Lillian pulled a hanky from her pocket and wiped her eyes. “What can I do?”
“Be alert. Be careful. Watch your back. I’m going to order a tap for the Last Chance’s phone. Do you ever get these calls on your cell?”
“I don’t have a phone.”
“Get a pre-paid one. You might need it. This is my office phone. He wrote on the back of his business card. And this is my personal cell. I always carry it with me. Use that number if you need to.”
“What else?”
“I want to you to start going to that support group I told you about. Some of the women there have experienced stalkers. You need to hear their stories. There is a meeting tonight at the synagogue. Will you go?”
Lillian hesitated for a moment. She hadn’t been in a place of worship for a very long time.
Masterson noticed Lillian’s hesitation. “Everyone is welcomed. The rabbi lets the group use the facilities for free.”
“All right. I’ll go. I just didn’t know if there were any restrictions to the meeting . . . like I had to be a member of the church.”
“Synagogue.”
Lillian smiled. “See. I’m a heathen in any religion.”
Officer Masterson returned her smile. He liked it that Lillian had pluck. “I think you will get some good out of it. And keep your eyes open. We’ll catch this guy, but it might take awhile. In the meantime, cover your ass.”
“That’s a quaint way of putting it.”
“I’m not going to candy-coat this. I think your stalker might be dangerous. Sometimes they move on, but I don’t think yours will.”
“You’re frightening me.”
“I want to frighten you. It will keep you on your toes.”
Lillian stood. “You have. I’ll be glad when this is over.”
“It will be, sooner or later. You’ll go to that meeting?”
“Yes. I will try to attend.”
“Don’t try. Be there.” Officer Masterson opened the door and walked Lillian to her car in the blazing Florida sun.
“I see you haven’t gotten your car fixed.”