by K. T. Tomb
“What the?” I was startled by the move.
“You said if you ever became immune…” And he laughed. “She was standing there for ten minutes and you didn’t even look over. You want a mulligan on what you said earlier?”
“Screw you.” I paused. “She’s a certifiable genius,” I added, looking straight at Sammy. I was rewarded with a warm smile. Sammy came and stood right behind me. Another few inches and her breasts would be resting on either side of my head. She knew what she is doing alright.
“That gives you boys the excuse to go to wherever and look around. Just don’t get caught,” she added with a mischievous grin. Her perfume was subtly intoxicating. For a moment, I lost track of where I was and what I was doing. She took a half step back, turned and left Mark’s office.
“She really is a genius. And by the way,” Mark’s voice brought me back to reality, “she has your number like she got it out of the phone book.” He laughed.
“Yeah, no kidding. I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” I said in an undertone.
“How long has it been?” Mark asked, suddenly becoming serious.
“How long has what been?” I asked, trying to lighten the mood with a cheerful tone.
“How long has it been since you actually… had a roll in the hay… with someone you liked?”
“It hasn’t—”
Mark cut me off. “I mean, how long has it been since you did that with someone you liked and who wasn’t paying you?”
I couldn’t give him a real answer. I knew it had been a while, but I didn’t think it had been that long. After I realized exactly what Mark was asking me though, I didn’t have a good answer. Most of my nights were booked with clients. The free time I did have, I spent on myself—pursuing hobbies like writing, exercising or hunting. I got what I needed as far as a physical fix from what I did for work. I never really went out and chased tail. There was too much risk that I might run into someone I worked with. I was always worried that if I went out on the town for myself, I’d end up ruining the reputation for professionalism I had.
After a couple of minutes of silence, Mark interrupted my train of thought. He was ready to get started. He pulled out a recording device and a scratch pad. He said the name, the date, and recorded my name as ‘the subject.’ Once he had the basic details recorded, he had me tell him the story we rehearsed. I spoke at length about how I found the purse, and what I did with it. How I approached the address on the driver’s license and what happened when I knocked. I told the recorder why I didn’t just leave the purse there, and that I noticed it had some blood on one of the corners. Then I stated that since I was concerned, and that the situation at the house increased my level of concern, I decided to seek professional help. Since all I really had was the purse and my suspicion, I said, I did not go to the police. Mark asked a couple of follow up questions—where was the house, what kind of state was it in, did I see anything through the window, things like that to get some more information for his records.
Once the client interview was over, Mark and I decided to go our separate ways for the rest of the day. We both needed sleep. We agreed that the next morning, we would go down to Alex’s lab and fill her in on what we decided to do. That way she would be on the same page as us. We figured we’d also warn her that the guy we were investigating may be watching us, and that he might try something nasty if he figured out we were working with her.
The whole way back to my place, all I could think about was what Mark had asked me. Maybe once all this is over, I’ll head out of town for a little while. Maybe I’ll look for some fun. That would actually be pretty great.
Chapter Fifteen
“Hey, guys,” Adam said cheerfully as he walked through the front door. A swarm of people rushed to greet him and welcome him back. It was so unusual for him to take a day off, everybody had assumed the worst.
“I know, I know,” Adam said, quieting the crowd. “I was just feeling really under the weather. I didn’t want to get anybody else sick, so I decided to play it safe and stay home.”
“Adam, I remember a day when you came in, draining mucus from everywhere, hacking like you were going to force a lung through your throat, puking every hour, and you stuck it out. Why’d you stay home this time?” one employee asked.
“Well, Darren, it’s simple really.” The group of people waited with baited breath for what Adam would say next. “I got old. And being old and sick at the same time really sucks.” He smiled, as they all chuckled, and made his way to his office. Adam sat down at his desk, looked over the paperwork that had come across his desk during his absence and fired up his desktop. He got up briefly to get a cup of coffee and he mixed in a liberal amount of cream and sugar. He always made his first cup of coffee sweet, and today was all about keeping up appearances. He sat back down at his desk and began reviewing labor reports. He would need to run payroll for his department this week anyway, and looking at the labor report would tell him who was working and who wasn’t. From there, he could begin narrowing down his search for the person who had given out his personal information; that was, if it had even come from the office at all. Adam was certain it had, though.
A knock on his door interrupts his otherwise peaceful morning.
“Yes?” he called out.
The door opened and in came one of his front desk employees. “What is it?” Adam asked. He could never remember this guy’s name, but he knew the man was pompous, that he took a lot of pleasure from calling people to let them know they were late, and hit up those same people with all kinds of late fees. Adam appreciated that because, in the rental car business, late fees were straight profit.
“Hi, Adam,” the kid said. “I’m happy you’re feeling better. I just wanted to make sure you saw the report on the customer who returned the Porsche late? I didn’t charge him anything extra because he’s one of our big account holders. But he was… weird… when he came in.”
“What do you mean, weird?” Adam asked, hoping his nervousness wasn't showing.
“He came in with a friend, which is odd because he never does that. And after they turned the key in, they walked around the lot. I wasn’t here the whole time they were—my shift ended—but I know they were still out there when I left. He’s never done that before. I just thought I would let you know.”
“Thanks for letting me know. I haven’t really gotten a chance to look at everything,” Adam said, indicating the stack of paperwork in front of him with his free hand as he sipped from his coffee mug, “but I will definitely come to you if I have any other questions about your report. I’m sure it is extremely detailed, as always?”
“Of course,” the employee said. “I’m not like one of these college kids just working part-time. I want to go somewhere in this company.”
Adam hated pomposity. The kid worked hard, but if it was up to him, Adam would have turned back time and looked for a more lucrative job. He did not want to crush the kid’s dream though.
“Well, when that time comes, you let me know and I’ll make sure to put in a good word. Now, if you’ll excuse me…?” He tried to let the kid know politely that he had work to do.
“That would be great. I’ll get out of your hair. And again, I’m glad you’re feeling better.”
“Yup, thanks.” Adam dismissed the kid by turning back to his computer. He heard the door close. He thought that the last statement sounded almost sincere. Adam knew kissing-up when he heard it, though. Why did I say that I would give him a good recommendation? I don’t even like the kid. I can’t even remember his name.
Adam looked back at his computer. The information from his employees was good—it gave him a specific time period to look at as far as the labor went. The busy times were first thing in the morning and then later at night. The passengers on flights were always looking for rental cars. They consisted mostly of business people that had to get from one conference center to another, so they always had more than enough staff on hand during the busy times
. The mid-day flights into the nearby airport were almost always made up of passengers that already had transportation elsewhere, so the list of employees on at the time when the customers returned the car was very short. Adam perused the list, and came up with a couple of candidates that he would be talking to later that day.
He passed the rest of the morning looking over reports from the day before. Reports on what cars had been rented, which ones had been returned late, and he looked at profit margins as well to make sure that they were on track for their monthly goals. He took a quick tour around the lot, and identified a few areas that needed to be cleaned up. Occasionally, people left a bag of garbage in the lot, or someone lost a suitcase and there was inevitably a small amount of detritus scattered throughout the cars. He also looked to make sure that all of the cars were cleaned and waxed, so that they would shine when the sun hit them. No one wanted to rent a dirty car.
While he was doing all of that, he also took an inventory of what they had on the lot. He counted all of the sedans—from compacts to luxuries to hybrids—and all of the SUVs as well. He also made sure that there was no damage on any of the vehicles. He noticed a few with scratches and dents; those would go to the service department to be repaired. He made a note of the VINs so that he could also confirm that the appropriate charges had been levied against the last renters. Finally, he reached a stopping point around twelve-thirty and decided to take a lunch break.
He went back into his office, grabbed the food he had packed and settled back down at his desk. After a relaxing lunch hour, he checked ESPN for scores of the baseball games. As he finished up his lunch, he sent an email to each of the employees he wanted to interview, asking them all to come in for a half-hour performance review the next day. It didn’t matter how many rules he had to break or how long it was going to take. He was going to get to the bottom of the situation. He was going to corner that blond bitch and get her for having given up his cover.
Chapter Sixteen
Mark and I pulled the car into one of the parking spots outside Alex’s building.
She met us outside and walked us in with a quiet warning that her boss was still alert to her and that she wanted to make sure that we were not seen with her if he came around. We walked quickly through the halls and finally, Alex pulled us into her office. It was slightly larger than a cubicle, with a solid door—that Alex closed as soon as we were behind it—and a sub-ground level window that looked out onto the disparate parking lot.
“Okay, so what’s up guys?” she asked.
“This is the plan as of right now,” Mark said and filled her in.
“That’s solid,” Alex said, smiling. “I really like it. Have you guys taken a look through that purse yet?”
“No,” I said quickly. “We wanted a… well… a woman’s perspective on it first. Mark and I don’t know what we’re looking for in there. Not at all.”
“I’d be happy to take a look and let you know if there’s anything unusual.”
I handed over the patent leather bag. Alex promptly dumped it upside down. She then began sorting things into three piles. Mark and I just sat and watched until she finished.
“So what’s the verdict?” I asked when Alex was done.
“Pile one is stuff you find in every girl’s purse,” she said quickly. “This is a clutch—ID is probably in there, so we can finally give this poor girl a name, along with her cash, credit cards… that kind of stuff. It’s all monetary and ID based. Pile two is other stuff that certain women will carry with them—you can tell that she cared about the way she looked because this is all high-end makeup. This is the stuff I keep on my bathroom counter. The cheap stuff goes in my purse in case of an emergency. She, on the other hand, has enough here to put on a face for a night at the opera or a night at the local country bar. She also her… personal care items,” and she indicated a feminine product I hoped I would never have to buy.
“So what gives with pile three?” I asked. “The only thing in it is a dime.”
“Right,” Alex said. “The dime is just a place marker. Pile three is the only weird thing about this purse. Any girl who carries that kind of makeup in her purse would always have… what?”
Mark and I looked at each other. Mark was a married man, he had gone through a rough patch and managed to come out of it as a stronger, better husband. He was now closer to his wife than when they were kids in college and still at the fun stage, but where the relationship gets serious too. I had more experience with women than the other two in the room combined. Neither of us had a clue.
“Okay,” she said, smiling. “I’ll give you a clue. It’s smaller than a breadbox.”
“Alex, this isn’t twenty questions, and we don’t have time for it,” Mark said a little more sharply than the situation warranted. Alex pouted. Her lips were full, and she was wearing a touch of a vibrant red lipstick today. The effect brought the warmth of blood to my face.
“Any guesses, Jupe? No?” she asked and answered for me.
“I’m stuck,” I said. “I give up.”
“Her phone guys. Any girl who is prepared to switch out a full day’s worth of makeup between lunch with her girlfriends and dinner with her lover always has her phone in her purse.”
Alarm bells started going off in my head. The words ‘dinner’ and ‘lover’ triggered something in my memory. I grabbed the clutch—or whatever it was—that Alex indicated in the first pile. I undid the clasp, my fingers trembling. There it was, clear as day on her license: her name. Carrie Hill-Church. There was a major difference between the license picture and the girl who was in the freezer a floor below us. Instead of blond hair, the girl in the picture had deep, auburn red hair. It was the color of a fox’s fur in winter, when their undercoats came in thick and glossy, and they went from the pale reds of just changing leaves to the deep red of a Red Delicious apple.
“Mark,” my voice was trembling almost as badly as my hands, “I know why this is happening to us. I know this woman.”
“Oh shit,” Mark said. “Is she a… client… of yours?”
“What do you mean, a client?” Alex asked, confused.
“Don’t worry about that right now,” Mark said. “Is she, Jupe?”
“Yes,” I was barely able to say past the constriction in my throat. “One of my longest-standing.”
“Okay, what am I getting myself into here?” Alex asked again, clearly disturbed by the turn of events.
“Suffice it to say that Jupe has a lot of female clients and their husbands are not happy about the arrangement,” Mark explained.
“Okay, fine,” Alex said, looking at me differently than she had the first time we met.
“This explains quite a bit,” Mark said more to himself than to anyone else.
“Listen, Alex,” I added, “you need to be really, really careful in the next day or two, okay? This guy… I don’t think he’s going to stop. I think he’s going to spiral out of control, and I think he’s going to be looking to take a lot of his anger out on the people who are helping Mark and me.”
As soon as I said it, Mark reached behind his back and unstrapped his holster. “Put this on,” Mark ordered her. She looked at him like he was crazy.
“Why on earth would I ever put that on?” she asked.
“Because Jupe and I have to go now. We’re going to go get the proof we need to put this guy away. I’ve got a spare in the car. I know Jupe is carrying too. If this guy thinks he has more time than he actually does, then he’s going to come after you if he finds out where you are. You need to be prepared.” I looked at him sideways—I didn’t tell him I’d strapped on my gun. He was good.
“Can’t I get in trouble for having this?” she stammered.
“Of course you can,” Mark said with a grim smile. “But I’d rather you get a ticket and pay a fine than find you dead. Wouldn’t you?” That was logic she clearly couldn't argue with. She stood up, and fiddled with the belt for a second, then looked at me helplessly. I stood
up and walked around behind her. As I wrapped my arms around her to help her fasten the belt, she leaned against me, just for a moment, but that contact brought a host of memories to the surface for me. Memories of people I spent time with as adults that wanted to spend that kind of time together. The contact was brief, but to me it felt like it lasted a lifetime. Maybe if all this worked out okay, I wouldn’t have to go away for a weekend after all. Maybe I could stay right here.
Mark and I got up and made our way hurriedly out of the building and back into the car.
“Where we going Mark?” I asked as I fired up the Chevy’s V8. The rumble gave me a boost of confidence, the feeling that we were finally getting somewhere, that we would finally accomplish something.
“We’re going back to that bastard’s house,” Mark said. “We’re gonna get in, take some pictures of whatever we can find to prove that Carrie is dead, and then we’re going to call it in to the police. Once we do that, we’re gonna sit and wait for him to come home.”
***
Mark and I pulled back into Adam’s driveway. Mark started snapping photos immediately.
“What are you taking pictures of that for?” I asked him, louder than I thought. Adrenaline was pumping again.
“I’m taking them so I can prove we don’t break down the door. Everything is time-stamped on this camera and it’s all been tamper-proofed so if he tries to sue for damages I’ll have proof that we didn’t do it. I’m also taking pictures of that garden. No straight dude landscapes like that, and no straight dude pays for landscaping like that.”
“Fair point,” I said aggressively. I wanted to kick some creepy-ass; bad. We worked our way around the front of the house to the back, taking pictures the whole way.
Shhhhick. A deadbolt slid back and then a softer click as the handle lock released. The door opened a crack. I couldn’t make out the person behind the door, but Mark clearly could.
“Hi,” Mark said.