by Lee Hollis
Chelsea put an arm around Sandra and snapped away. They had become fast friends, and after a few more rounds, Chelsea was literally swaying from side to side as she talked about the horrors of the casting couch that she had had to endure while coming up as an actress before the onslaught of the Me Too moment. Her words were almost unintelligible now, and Sandra knew it was time to call it a night.
“Where are you staying?” Sandra asked.
“Right here in the hotel,” Chelsea said, climbing down off the chair and stumbling, nearly falling to the floor.
Sandra caught her, and held her up. “Here. Let me take you. What’s your room number?”
“Four-twelve,” Chelsea slurred.
Sandra and Maya already knew Chelsea was staying at the Westin. She stayed there every time she came to town. And after Maya questioned a few contacts she had at the hotel, she knew Chelsea had been coming to the top-floor bar every night, so it had been surprisingly easy to track her down.
“Good night, Lori,” Sandra said as she slapped down another twenty and dragged Chelsea off.
“Get home safe,” Lori said, winking. She knew Sandra was stone-cold sober.
After taking the elevator down to the fourth floor and convincing a half-conscious Chelsea to hand over her key card, Sandra managed to get Chelsea into the room. It was a plush one-bedroom suite. Sandra half dragged, half carried Chelsea into the bedroom, where she flopped down on top of the comforter, arms and legs spread-eagle. Sandra pulled off Chelsea’s high heels but left her dress on. It would take too much effort to roll her over, unzip it, and get her deadweight out of it.
Chelsea was now flat on her back, head tilted to one side, snoring softly.
“Chelsea? Are you awake?”
No answer.
Sandra retrieved Chelsea’s phone from her bag and punched in the code number. 030690, which, according to her driver’s license that was in a side pocket, was Chelsea’s birthday. March 6, 1990. Sandra scanned down her emails, but nothing stood out to her. She then went into her texts.
“Find anything?” Maya said in her ear.
“No, a lot of texts from her manager and castmates from Wicked. There are some texts from someone who she just refers to as Him. It’s a local number, but she never refers to him by name. Just a constant stream of phone sex I won’t bore you with and making plans to meet whenever she’s in town.”
“What about Maisie?” Maya asked.
Sandra scrolled down and found Maisie’s name. She opened the texts. “Oh boy . . .”
“What?”
Sandra was too busy reading to answer her.
“Sandra? What’s happening? What are you doing?”
“Hold on,” Sandra sighed, continuing to read down through all the texts. “Okay, it sounds like there was no love lost between these two sisters.”
“Why? What do they say?”
“From what I can gather, Maisie found out about the married man Chelsea was secretly seeing and didn’t approve. You should see some of the names Maisie calls her. There are a few here I’ve never even heard of.”
“What else?”
Sandra skimmed down the texts some more. “Apparently whomever Chelsea’s been sneaking around with works at the high school with Maisie, and Maisie is pretty furious about that. Although she doesn’t come out and say it, it’s pretty obvious that Maisie is extremely jealous about the relationship, just from her tone. She clearly has feelings for this man herself. . . .”
Sandra suddenly gasped.
“What? What?” Maya cried in the earpiece.
It was like Sandra was immersed in a juicy summer beach read. “Maisie just threatened to expose the whole affair on her Dirty Laundry site if Chelsea doesn’t stop seeing him!”
“That’s cold,” Maya said. “No wonder nobody liked Maisie.”
“That had to be what they were fighting about when I saw them in the parking lot that night,” Sandra said. “Maybe Chelsea told this mystery man what Maisie was threatening to do, so he was the one who killed her in order to keep her from splashing all the sordid details of the affair all over her website for the whole world, not to mention his wife, to see!”
“So either Chelsea hired me sincerely, not knowing that her boyfriend was the killer, or she did know and wanted to cover it up, and hired me under the guise of finding out who murdered her sister . . . ,” Maya said.
“But why would she do that?”
“The first time we met she mentioned that Maisie’s cell phone was not recovered at the scene, and she seemed real eager to find it. All the texts you are reading on Chelsea’s phone would be on Maisie’s as well.”
Sandra was getting excited. “She was doing all of this for him. Hiring you to find the killer but she really wanted you to find the phone. Chelsea didn’t want Maisie’s phone to fall into the wrong hands because if those texts got out there, it would be deeply embarrassing and professionally detrimental for her lover.”
“Well, yes, Sandra, but more important, it would expose him as the killer.”
“Right, of course. That would probably take precedent. Remember, I’m new at this.”
Sandra heard Maya chuckling.
“You’re doing just fine,” Maya said. “Chelsea knew if I recovered the phone during my investigation, I wouldn’t know the security code to gain access. I wouldn’t be able to see the texts. But once the phone was back in Chelsea’s possession she could destroy it and fire me, and that would be the end of it. The world would be left believing Maisie committed suicide, and Chelsea’s secret boyfriend would be in the clear.
“Okay, get out of there and meet me outside,” Maya ordered.
“Roger that,” Sandra said. She had always wanted to say that.
Sandra noticed a piece of chocolate in a gold wrapper on the pillow next to Chelsea’s head and grabbed it. She was starving. And then she headed out of the bedroom.
She was just reaching for the door handle to leave when suddenly there was a knock on the other side.
Sandra gasped and jumped.
She heard Maya in her ear. “Sandra, what is it?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
There was another knock on the hotel room door, this one louder and more insistent.
Sandra stood frozen in place for a moment before quietly reaching over and snapping off the lights.
“Someone’s here,” Sandra whispered, panic rising.
Suddenly Sandra heard a whirring sound.
Someone was using a key card to enter the room.
She quickly spun around and ran back into the bedroom of the suite.
“Sandra, what’s happening? Talk to me!” Maya yelled in her ear.
Chelsea was completely passed out on the bed, oblivious to the knocking or commotion of Sandra running around trying to find a hiding place.
She heard a man’s voice. “Chelsea, are you here?”
The voice seemed familiar, but she couldn’t place it in this context.
She dropped down to her knees to hide under the bed but there just wasn’t enough space between the bed and the floor to squeeze through. She popped back up on her feet and was about to slide open the closet and hide in there when the man suddenly appeared. It was dark, and the curtains had been drawn closed, but there was a crack open enough for some moonlight to stream through. He would at least be able to make out that there was someone else in the room if he looked in her direction. But at the moment, the man’s back was to her as she flattened herself against the wall. There was enough moonlight for her to see him standing over Chelsea’s limp body on the bed. He reached down and stroked her hair.
“Hey, babe, you awake?”
He shook her gently.
She stirred a bit, mumbled something, but didn’t wake up.
“Babe?”
He sat down on the edge of the bed next to her. “I’m sorry about tonight. I was halfway out the door when she came home from her night out with the girls unexpectedly. Apparently she had a spat with one o
f her friends over something silly and it soured the whole evening. . . .”
Chelsea moaned and turned over on her side.
“I’m sorry,” the man said. “I shouldn’t bore you with why I stood you up. But I’m here now.”
That voice.
Sandra knew that voice.
There was a crackling in her ear.
“Sandra . . . what . . . doing . . . talk . . .” Maya’s voice cut in and out. The crackling got so distracting that she reached up and pulled the earpiece out and pocketed it. Maya wouldn’t be helping her out of this situation.
Sandra watched the man pull back Chelsea’s tangled hair and kiss her on the cheek. Then he stood up. His back was still to her, and she pressed her body against the wall as much as she could, knowing that if he turned around, despite the darkness, he would see her in plain view.
He removed some cuff links and dropped them on the side table and then began unbuttoning his shirt.
Sandra used the distraction to slip into the bathroom.
Her mind raced. How was she going to get out of here? She was trapped. What if he found her? What would he do? She scanned the basin, and the only weapon she could find was a plugged-in hair dryer. She couldn’t very well blow hot air in his face in order to make her escape.
She heard him cough. He was now much closer to her than before. He was coming into the bathroom! Sandra climbed into the bathtub and quietly closed the shower curtain just as the light snapped on and he stepped to the basin and ran the water. He was only inches away from her. What if he decided to take a shower? She would be caught. She slowly, carefully reached over and with two fingers drew back the shower curtain just an inch so she could try to get a good look at him.
He was bent over, shirtless, still in his pants, splashing water on his face. She could tell he was older, maybe in his fifties, with a hairy body with tufts of gray everywhere. He was thick, but not fat, more of a dad’s body. Finally, after washing his face for what seemed like an eternity, the man sprang back up and grabbed a white towel from the basin to wipe his face. When he dropped the towel, she could see his reflection in the mirror.
Sandra had to cover her mouth with her hand to suppress a surprised gasp.
It was Principal John Hicks.
She couldn’t believe it.
Chelsea’s married man was the high school principal.
Maisie Portman’s boss, to whom she had been devoted.
No wonder she had not approved of the affair.
Hicks unscrewed the cap over a tiny bottle of mouthwash and poured it in his mouth, swishing it around before spitting it back out in the sink. Then he rubbed a hand through his chest hair as he examined himself in the mirror before heading out and turning off the light.
Sandra waited a few minutes before pulling the shower curtain back slowly and quietly stepping out of the tub. She inched her way to the door and peeked into the bedroom to see Hicks climbing into bed with Chelsea and wrapping an arm around her waist, pulling her into him. Chelsea mumbled some more but said nothing coherent. She would be out until morning and then probably nursing a massive hangover.
Sandra waited and waited. Hicks cleared his throat a couple of times. She knew he hadn’t fallen asleep yet, and it would be too dangerous to make a move, but eventually he began snoring. As it grew louder in volume, she made the decision to drop to her knees and crawl from the bathroom across the carpet of the bedroom and out to the main room of the suite. Once she was past the bedroom, she crawled to her feet and scurried to the door. She reached for the handle and turned it slowly. There was a loud click. She stood very still. Hicks had stopped snoring in the bedroom. Had the sound awakened him? She waited a few more seconds and then pulled open the door. A flood of light from the hallway poured in right past the bedroom door that was open.
“Who is it? Who’s there?” Hicks shouted.
She was out the door in a flash, running down the hall in her high heels, stumbling a couple of times, nearly spraining her left ankle at one point, until she rounded the corner and stopped to catch her breath.
She poked her head around the corner to see if she was being followed, and there he was, in his underwear, sprinting down the hall in hot pursuit.
Sandra bolted toward the elevator and pressed the button. The door immediately slid open. It was her lucky day. The elevator was already at her floor. She rushed inside and pressed the button for the lobby. That’s when she realized she had made a huge mistake. The elevator waited a few seconds before the doors started to close. Enough time for her to hear Hicks huffing and puffing as he ran for the elevator to catch up with the person who had been in Chelsea’s room. She kicked herself for not escaping down the stairwell. She scooted to the side to hide as the doors finally began to close, and she saw Hicks’s hand try to wedge itself between the doors to get them to open again. But he wasn’t fast enough, and the doors locked shut, and she breathed a heavy sigh of relief as the elevator began its descent.
She thought he might try to intercept her by beating her down to the lobby using the stairs, but he was a high school principal with a reputation to maintain, so it might not be the best idea to fly into the lobby in just his underwear.
The elevator doors opened and the lobby was pretty much empty because of the late hour. Just a clerk behind the check-in desk. She nodded at the young woman, who looked up from her computer and with a bright smile said, “Good evening.”
Once outside, Sandra spotted Maya’s car across the street. She ran over and jumped in the passenger’s side.
Maya stared at Sandra. “What the hell happened?”
“The boyfriend showed up! You will never believe who it was!”
Sandra excitedly told Maya all that had happened, and when she was finished, she threw her head back and smiled.
Maya shook her head, amused. “You really are loving all this private eye stuff, aren’t you?”
“I was this close to getting caught, but I got away and he didn’t see me! What an adrenaline rush!”
Sandra couldn’t hide her exhilaration. Maya was right. She had not felt this alive in a very long time.
CHAPTER FORTY
When Alice Hicks opened the door and greeted Sandra and Maya with a warm smile, Sandra’s stomach dropped. Of course she had expected her to be at home this early in the morning, but when she saw her sweet, unsuspecting face, oblivious to her husband’s infidelity, Sandra suddenly felt nervous and unprepared.
“Sandra, what a pleasant surprise,” Alice said, grabbing her in a hug before turning to Maya and sticking out her hand. “Hello, I’m Alice Hicks.”
“Maya Kendrick,” Maya said, shaking it.
“Maya’s daughter, Vanessa, is a student at the high school. She’s in this year’s production of Hello, Dolly!” Sandra said.
“Oh yes. She’s playing Minnie. She’s a wonderful little actress,” Alice said sincerely.
“Thank you,” Maya said.
Sandra could tell Maya was feeling sick to her stomach now too. They had decided they needed to confront Principal Hicks about his affair with Chelsea Portman, and better it be done at his home rather than at the school, where there would be an abundance of prying eyes and ears. But they had ignored the fact that Mrs. Hicks, who was a part-time realtor, would not be out showing a house at this early hour. Sandra suddenly felt guilty for showing up unannounced to confront Hicks. The last thing she wanted was to do it in front of his innocent wife. Sandra knew of all people what it was like to be blindsided by a husband’s dirty secrets. There was no way she wanted any part of causing this woman pain in her own home.
“Are you here to see John?” Alice asked brightly, waving them inside.
“Yes,” Sandra said, stepping into the foyer.
“He’s in the kitchen eating his breakfast. He’s a little grumpy because he worked very late last night. Let me go get him,” Alice said, shuffling off.
Sandra and Maya exchanged a look.
“We should have thought this
through more,” Maya groaned.
Sandra nodded.
They both looked around at the charmingly appointed house full of antiques and mementos from the couple’s world travels. Their kids were off to college, but a number of framed photos of them throughout the years lined the wall going up the staircase.
John Hicks bounded in from the kitchen. His dress shirtsleeves were rolled up and a lobster-print necktie was tossed over one shoulder. He was holding a half-eaten piece of sourdough toast slathered with butter in one hand and a wrinkled cloth napkin to wipe his mouth with in the other. He looked surprised to see Sandra and Maya together.
“Ladies . . . ,” he said warily.
“Hi, John. We were hoping to speak to you about something,” Sandra said.
He checked his watch. “This couldn’t wait until school hours?”
“No, I’m afraid not,” Maya replied brusquely.
There were a few worry lines on his forehead. He wasn’t sure what this could possibly be about, so he seemed to go over a few subjects in his mind, finally settling on one that made sense. “Is this about you resigning as PTA president?”
Sandra opened her mouth to answer just as Alice returned with two piping-hot cups of coffee. “I took the liberty of making you gals some coffee. Hope you like cream and sugar.”
“Thanks, that’s very kind of you,” Sandra said.
Alice hovered, curious as to why they were here.
Hicks patiently waited for Sandra to answer his question.
“Yes, it’s about the PTA,” Sandra lied. “Is there somewhere we can talk in private?”
Alice got the hint and grabbed her Hermès bag that was hanging on a coatrack by the door. “Sorry to run off like this, but I have an open house clear across town and I’m already running late. Nice seeing you, Sandra. Nice meeting you, Maya.”
She flew out the door, shutting the door behind her.
Hicks stared at Sandra and Maya, suddenly suspicious. “I get the feeling this is not about you stepping down as PTA president.”
Sandra took a deep breath and exhaled. “No, John, it’s not.”