"Fuck, bitch.” he snarled.
Lilly pulled away and looked her father right in the eye. “I hate you!” she hissed and kneed him hard in the balls, causing him to grab his crotch with both hands and fall to the floor.
With that, Lilly fled screaming to Andrew and Jason. “He's right over there!” Lilly pointed frantically.
Andrew pulled out a set of handcuffs, and Jason pulled his forty-five revolver from the holster that was hidden in his pants. By this time, a crowd had gathered in the lobby, staring at the goings on. John, Joe, and Paul stood by, ready to offer any assistance. Angela looked on, as did Beverly, who was holding Lilly tight. Donnie spied Jason coming towards him with his gun drawn.
"Freeze, you're under arrest.” Jason shouted firmly.
Donnie hoisted himself up off the floor and tried to hobble away, but he was no match for the young, virile Jason, who was on top of him in seconds. Andrew arrived and handcuffed him, as Jason read him his Miranda Rights.
"What did I do? What did I do?” Donnie pleaded.
"Well, how about the murder of your wife, for starters.” Andrew barked at him.
"Shelly is dead?” Donnie shouted out, shocked. They picked him up off the floor and headed to the front door.
It was then that Donnie spied Michael peering in through the glass door, trying to sneak in. Michael took one look at what was going on and slunk back outside. Unfortunately for him, this did not go unnoticed by Donnie.
"Hey, there's John Smith. That's my buddy John Smith.” Donnie pointed out the window.
Michael saw him, quickly ducked out of sight, and ran.
"John Smith?” Andrew asked.
He and Jason looked at each other. ‘John Smith', where had he heard that name before?
"I didn't murder nobody, you can ask my friend John Smith. We was drinkin’ together. Go ahead and ask him.” Donnie shouted.
"Shut up!” Jason shoved him toward the door, where a squad car was waiting.
"I swear to God I didn't kill Shelly.” Donnie begged and pleaded.
"Then how about beating and molesting your daughter? How about the attempted murder of Stephen Peterson? Those are pretty shitty things to do, don't you think?” Jason shoved his head down into the back seat of the police cruiser, and it took off into the night.
While the family had moved outside to witness this, Beverly held on to Lilly tightly.
"Well done.” John patted Jason in the shoulder.
"Just doing my job, sir.” Jason smiled.
Lilly watched the police car's lights disappear in the distance. “Bye, Daddy.” Lilly uttered to herself. She cried tears of joy, the hell was over. She collapsed into Beverly's arms and started to weep convulsively.
"Shhhh, it's okay. You are safe now.” Beverly comforted the frightened teenager.
Jason blabbed into a cell phone. “Suspect in custody.” he quipped.
"One is.” Justin cocked his head knowingly. Jason faced his brother.
"Yeah, I know.” he said.
* * * *
Michael thought he was going to faint when he approached the lobby and witnessed all the shit going down. Luckily nobody spotted him, except for that stupid redneck. Michael ran to the employee entrance on the side of the building and snuck in. A couple of maids and busboys were milling around, smoking cigarettes. Nobody gave him a second look as he snatched a burgundy and white waiter's uniform from a nearby rack and quickly jerked it on. He knew he had to get the hell out of town, but first he had a score to settle with that asshole Jason.
He toyed with the idea of going to the hospital and seeing his father, but decided against it. That would be the first place the police would be waiting for him, besides he never really cared for his father anyway. He always came to Shauna's defense, and that really pissed him off. As he slunk through the hallway of the waiters quarters, he thoroughly contemplated his plan. After he slit Jason's throat, he was going to make a run for it. He patted his pants and felt the knife, still firmly planted in place. Michael planned to hitchhike South until he got to the Mexican border. Then he was going to say he was a tourist going to Tijuana for the day. There he'd blend in with the natives, never to be seen again. He smiled to himself; this was going to be fun.
He made his way to the hot and crowded kitchen area. There was much hustle and bustle going on, various waiters and busboys scooting all around him. He just kept his head low and intermixed with them all. One tall, blond guy handed him a pitcher of ice water and ordered him to fill up the glasses on the dinner tables. Yeah, right, Michael thought to himself, then I would really be caught.
He set the pitcher down on a tray and quietly made himself as unobtrusive as possible. He pulled a cigarette from his pants’ pocket and lit up, taking a long slow puff. He relished the thought of his new life—no more boring, go-nowhere job, no more freezing New York winters, and most of all, no more Shauna. It was going to be great, just relaxing and having a good time.
"Hey! Can you not read? It says no smoking in here!” His tranquil thoughts were rudely interrupted by a mean, brassy bitch with short dark hair, who was angrily tapping her foot and pointing to a ‘No Smoking’ sign above his head. Michael just glared at her blankly. “Well, I'm waiting.” she snapped.
"Waiting for what?” he asked calmly. If she only knew who she was talking to—if she only knew he had a six-inch butcher knife in his pants and had no qualms about using it.
"For you to put out your cigarette, idiot!” she crossed her arms in front of her and pursed her lips. Michael just smiled and did what he was told. He tossed his cigarette onto the floor, crushing it with his foot—a gesture she did not seem to appreciate.
"Get a broom and clean up that mess, now! Then get your ass out there and fill those water glasses. Move it!” she shouted and stormed off.
Michael watched as she berated some more waiters and poured herself a cup of coffee. Gingerly, he got a broom and swept his cigarette butt into a corner, keeping an eye on Ms. Bitch. She needed to learn a lesson; she needed to learn that you do not call Michael Peterson an idiot. Nobody speaks to Michael Peterson in that tone of voice.
As he was replacing the broom on the rack, he looked down on the floor and noticed something. It was a small blue box. He carefully picked it up and examined it, realizing that it was a rattrap. What was a fancy hotel doing with rats in the kitchen? Somebody should report this to the Health Department, he thought. He turned the little box over. There was a tiny skull and crossbones on the side, indicating that the contents were highly toxic.
"What the hell are you doing? I told you to move your ass or you're fired.” Ms. Bitch crept up behind his back and scolded him. “Who the hell hired you? You are a moron!” she sniffed and sauntered off.
He glared at her as she poured herself another cup of coffee into a yellow coffee mug with red lipstick stains on it. Michael looked at the rat poison, then back to Ms. Bitch's coffee mug. He briefly thought about going after her with his knife, but decided against it. Too many people around and besides, he was saving that for Jason. He glanced down at the rat poison again. He didn't need a knife for Ms. Bitch; he was holding a fantastic weapon in his hand. He snickered to himself. One more bitch to add to the list, and this one is going to be easy.
* * * *
Jason went to the hotel coffee shop and got a juicy cheeseburger and fries to go. Then he went up to the penthouse suite where Shauna was staying.
He knocked softly on the door. “Shauna?” he called out.
"Who is it?” a female voice asked.
"It's Prince Charming,” he answered. Shauna slowly opened the door. “And, I brought you dinner.” he grinned. She smiled broadly and let him in.
"Thank you! God, I'm starved. What did you bring me?” she asked, taking the white to go box and setting it down on a glass table.
"Your favorite.” he told her, looking around the place. The suite was definitely something, with a large private balcony complete with deck chairs and a table. Ja
son wondered out. While looking at the magnificent sight of the full moon over the ocean, he took a deep whiff of the salt air. Shauna sat down and attacked her dinner. He ambled back in the room and sat down next to her, gently rubbing her back.
"How are you?” he asked her sincerely.
"I'm okay,” she said softly. He brushed her hair from her eyes. There was a moment of silence as she took a bite of her cheeseburger. “Do you know where he is?” she asked, dipping a French fry into some catsup.
"I put out a two-six-one on his sorry ass. He's around here somewhere, though. I can feel it,” he told her.
"What are you going to do?” she inquired.
"I'm just going to sit here and wait. I have a gut feeling he's going to come after me,” he explained.
"Why?"
"Because I'm on to him."
"Oh God!” she exclaimed and threw down her burger.
"Hey, that pussy can't do shit to me. I'm not scared of him,” he stated.
"Then what are you going to do when you find him?” she asked.
He took her hand in his and held it tight. He gazed at her deeply with his ebony eyes. “Then I'm going to kill him.” he expressed.
"Please don't, Jason. Then you will go to jail, and I don't want that.” she pleaded, her eyes big.
"Shauna, I'm not letting that rat bastard get away with this,” he stated firmly.
"Jason, I don't care about what happens to my brother, but I do care about you. I don't want you in trouble.” she said.
"Honey, I'm not about to get in trouble. Trust me.” he smiled slightly.
"What do you mean?” she asked quizzically.
"I'm in the FBI. I have connections. Things will be fixed so I won't go to jail.” he told her.
"Meaning?"
"Meaning, if I happen to see him, and my gun just happens to go off into his chest...” Jason began. Shauna leaned herself into him, laying her head against his muscular chest. He embraced her tightly.
"I'm not going back to New York yet. Uncle John wants my father and me to stay with him in L.A.” she looked up at him, starting to weep. “Will you stay here, too?” she pleaded.
"You really want me here?” he asked. She sniffled and nodded. “Well, if it's all right with your Uncle John. Does he have room?” Jason asked, stroking her hair.
"Oh, yeah. He has a huge place. Who knows, you just might meet Julia Roberts.” she joked.
"I don't like her, she's boring.” he snickered. “But you are another story. I'm concerned about you.” He took her chin in his hand and eyed her intently.
"I'm fine,” she said, clinging to him. “Really, I am."
"I don't believe you. You are still in shock over what happened. It will take a long time to heal from what has been done to you. So, if you want me to stay in L.A. with you until you do, that is where I'll be.” he told her sweetly. She gazed at him with silent, tearful eyes.
"Oh, Jason.” she threw her arms firmly around his neck. “I love you,” she whispered. He squeezed her tight. The nectarous aroma of the sea air permeated the atmosphere.
And your brother is a dead man. he thought to himself.
* * * *
The family solemnly filed into the Velvet Room for dinner. Justin and Beverly took Lilly up to Justin's room so she could bathe and chill-out for a while.
The bittersweet scene in the lobby had put a slight damper on everybody's mood. On one hand, they were all happy that Lilly was safe and Donnie was sent off to jail. On the other hand, the outlandishness of it all put everyone on edge. Andrew sat at a large table with John, Joe, and Angela. Paul and Joyce sauntered in and joined them. This was supposed to be a joyous occasion, the ‘Farewell Dinner’ for all the guests and family.
As waiters were busy serving Caesar salad and filling drink orders, Angela turned to face Joe. “All things considered, this has been the most romantic weekend of my life.” she smiled.
"Mine too.” he said, taking a sip of white wine. Jason appeared and took a seat at the table next to his father and John.
"How is she?” John asked him.
"She wants to be alone for a while and get some rest.” Jason replied.
"That's a good man you have for a son, Andrew.” John said.
"I know.” Andrew answered, patting his son on the back.
"Your son is pretty outstanding, too.” Angela smiled at John.
"Yeah, he's out standing in the field.” John joked. Joe rolled his eyes and made a mock gesture to his father. The laughter broke the tension at the table, and the waiters were busy running back and forth. Jason shoveled a fork full of salad into his mouth, then scanned the room with his eyes. He could smell the stink of Michael Peterson, and knew that he was hiding and waiting. Nothing looked suspicious, as the waiters, waitresses, and busboys scurried around, running in and out of the kitchen through a swinging door.
Just as the main course of roast beef was being served, a loud commotion came from the kitchen, startling everyone. Jason leapt up and put his hand over his gun, tucked neatly away in a holster in his pants, just in case. A waiter came rushing out through swinging door visibly very shaken up.
"Is there a doctor in the house? Does anybody know CPR?” he called out to the dining room.
"What's going on?” Jason asked, heading in the direction of the kitchen.
"Our supervisor just fainted, and she's having convulsions.” he told Jason and waved him over.
Jason rushed into the kitchen to see a dark-haired woman collapsed and writhing violently on the floor. “Please stand back, let her have some air.” Jason ordered as he took charge of the situation. He knelt down beside her, restrained her shoulders, and checked for a pulse. No luck. Her skin was blue and her eyes were rolled back into her head. She did not look good.
"Call 911, somebody. Quickly.” he told them. A young brunette waitress grabbed a phone and began to frantically dial.
"What happened?” Jason asked, as he held her tongue to keep her airway clear.
"She was just sitting there drinking her coffee when she fell over.” a waiter told him.
"May I see the coffee cup, please?” Jason asked. The waiter handed him the yellow coffee cup, and he inspected it. There were a few drops left. He took a drop on his finger, touched it to his tongue and knew instantly that it was strychnine.
He looked over at the waitress that was on the phone. “Is an ambulance on the way?” Jason shouted.
The girl nodded ‘yes'.
He got that sinking feeling in his stomach again and had a suspicion who might have done this. Why would he want to harm the kitchen supervisor though? "Did any of you see a strange person back here? Anybody who seemed out of sorts?” Jason asked them.
"Well, there was this one guy who said he was new.” a young waiter volunteered. “He was kind of weird, though. He didn't want to bring any food or drinks out into the dining room. He just wanted to sit in a corner and smoke. That's why she yelled at him,” he pointed to the victim on the floor.
Jason's blood turned to ice water. “Tell me what he looked like.” Jason demanded.
* * * *
Justin and Beverly relaxed on his bed watching the news while Lilly took a shower. Beverly had brought up some of her clothes for her to wear when she got out.
When they had gently broken the news to Lilly about Shelly's death, she had immediately dissolved into a fit of tears. They reassured her that justice would be served, and that her father would be locked up for life for the heinous crime.
Justin sat strumming his guitar, and lit up a cigarette. He offered one to Beverly, which she took. After a few moments, they heard the shower turn off. Justin flipped through the channels with the remote, while Beverly took a long puff of her cigarette.
After a minute, Lilly emerged from the bathroom, clad in a lovely pink sundress and pink Dr. Scholl's sandals, the in California shoe of the moment. She looked like a dream, the beautiful blonde teenage girl that she was.
"Wow!” Justin admired
.
"Am I okay?” Lilly asked, lowering her eyes.
"You are exquisite!” he told her, stubbing out his cigarette and getting off the bed to admire her.
"Is that good?” she asked hopefully.
"Oh, yes, it's a good thing.” Beverly smiled. “Here, let me do this.” she reached for her purse and retrieved her makeup bag. She put a little bit of blush and lip gloss on Lilly's face. She finished it off with a tiny amount of mascara.
"There.” Beverly said and turned her around so she could see herself in the mirror. Lilly grinned and hugged Beverly. Her father had never allowed her to use makeup, calling it ‘whore's paint'. For the first time in her young, maltreated life, she looked at her reflection and liked what she saw.
"Am I pretty?” Lilly asked Beverly softly.
"No.” Beverly said.
"No?” Lilly's eyes got big and her smile slipped.
"No, you are beautiful.” Beverly said, hugging the girl. Lilly's eyes dampened as she looked at herself again. She knew a new and better life was on the horizon.
"So, you guys hungry? Because I think the Farewell Dinner is going on right now.” Justin asked.
"No, I think after what Lilly has been through, she would much rather stay up here and order room service. Right Lilly?” Beverly asked her.
Lilly shook her head. “No, I'd much rather go down there for supper.” Lilly smiled broadly. Beverly and Justin nodded in unison.
"Okay, well to the Farewell Dinner we go.” Beverly said, and with that the three of them walked out the door and headed to the lobby.
As soon as they stepped out of the elevator, they were appalled to hear the all too familiar sound of a siren. “Jesus Christ, what now?” Justin uttered and dashed over to the entryway. He spotted is brother and father nearby, in the midst of the action, as always. “What the hell?” Justin asked.
"A lady was poisoned. She was a hotel employee.” Jason explained.
'You think he...” Justin started.
"Oh, yeah.” Jason answered before Justin could finish. The twins had a unique talent for communicating telepathically.
"But why would he stick around the hotel?” Justin asked his brother. “That makes no sense."
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