by Krista Cairn
Half way out the door Simone stopped. Mitch stood on the sidewalk facing her, with his hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets. Apparently their encounter has shocked him too. So why was he seeking her out?
She continued out, and turned a sharp left, away from him. “I have nothing to say to you.”
She heard him fall into step on her right. She pulled her own jacket up tighter.
“I need your help. I’m trying to find my sister, and you might be the only person who can do it.”
Simone was tempted to just jog off right there. She bit her lip as she resisted. “Is she missing or are you just looking for her?”
“She moved here three years ago and has kept in regular touch with our parents, calling at least once on the weekends. That stopped six months ago, without warning.”
“You’re only giving me half of the truth.”
They walked in silence for a moment, and her curiosity grew.
“She was supposed to meet me at the café, the day you brought me coffee. It was the first text message I’d had from her in months. She suggested the time and the place, after I told her I was coming looking.”
“Why not hire a detective?”
“We did. They couldn’t find her. But I know you can.”
“That’s quite an assumption.”
He pulled a cell phone out of his pocket and handed it to her. “There’s a picture of you on her phone. The phone was in her apartment, but it looks like she doesn’t really live there.”
Simone activated the phone and looked through the images on it. She wasn’t the only one on there. People she only knew the code names for were also there. If his sister was in that world, she wouldn’t be hard to find. Not for Simone.
Wait, she thought. This was the second time in as many days that she was being called back. She shook her head. Handing the phone back to him, she shrugged. The answer was still no.
“I can’t pay you, but I can help,” he said.
“The kind of trouble your sister is in is way over your head.”
He didn’t respond at first, but then she noticed he appeared to be getting … brighter.
She looked over at him and took a couple steps away so there were several feet between them now.
“I’m the opposite of you,” he said. “I gather light. You dispel it.”
“Actually, no. Light makes me solid. In the shadows, I become a ghost. In the dark, I don’t exist except as thought and intent.”
He frowned. “You make where you are darker. You just haven’t learned to control it yet.”
“Who are you?” she blustered. Why did he think he knew more about her than she did? He laughed, shrugging. “I think we were part of an experiment. I’m still not sure how.
I was raised in Korea, you were here … how could we have been exposed to the same change agent? But, all crazy talk aside, I just want to find my sister. I’ll leave you alone once we find her.”
Simone stood staring at him for a few minutes trying to imagine what he wasn’t saying. He implied she could take the light out of a space, to the same degree that he gathered it to himself and it shone around him. What kind of molecular craziness could do that? It was unreal. She turned to walk away, but she was curious.
“I have a job to get to. If you give me more details, I’ll help you find her. That’s where it stops, though,” she said.
“Really?” He seemed genuinely surprised. “I mean, thank you. Take her phone,” he said.
“No, you keep it. If someone calls her, it makes more sense for you to be the one answering it.”
“Ah, right. So where do we start?”
“You were off to a good start when you searched her apartment. Did you go through her mail or phone messages?”
He nodded. “It’s all utility bills and that sort of thing. No personal correspondence.”
“What was the last charge on her credit card?”
“Something from your café. You may not know her, but I think she left you as a clue.
I can see why, though.”
Neither could Simone. “When was that charge?”
“Last week.”
“That’s pretty recent.” She was surprised. This woman had been missing for at least six months, or at least out of contact, but she was charging her credit card and leaving clues that led to her—to Simone. Why didn’t she recognize her? A thought popped into her mind. “Wait, what did she do for a job before she disappeared?”
“The last thing I heard was she had applied to work for a travel agency.”
That didn’t help at all. Was that job a decoy? “What did she do before that?”
“She said she was a call agent, or something. It didn’t make sense, the way she explained it. And we were more worried about the way her husband was acting. My only relief is that her using that credit card means he didn’t kill her or something.”
Simone bit her bottom lip. Call agent could be any number of jobs, but considering where she went missing….
“No wonder you came over,” she said.
What if someone had manipulated him by using that card, by taking pictures of Simone, and by saying his sister would meet him at the cafe? Suddenly his crazy talk didn’t seem all that crazy.
“What? You suddenly went pale and started to fade.”
She didn’t want to say it out loud. Starting with the logical, there was a pattern forming. And all things being equal, his sister was still missing. He’d head in with or without her help soon.
“Let’s fingerprint her apartment later. I’d like to see her credit card receipts too.
Right now I really have to get to work.”
When the spending pattern shifted or a large gap ended would mark when this other person started baiting Mitch. Shortly before that, there would be evidence of them looking for him. And maybe me. When did they find me? Before they found him, evidently. But how did the sister figure in?
As she walked, he kept pace.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Going to work.”
“Oh?”
“I work there too. Started a month ago.”
“You said you didn’t know Sid.” Her eyes narrowed. “What do you do?”
“I’m the pastry chef. And I didn’t actually say I didn’t know him. I said I was with you.” “Pastry? A pastry chef? Don’t you have to work at five in the morning, not five in the evening?”
He laughed at her reaction. “Relax,” he said. “I’ll be gone in five minutes.”
Chapter 4 // Growl
As they walked in the entrance, Mitch veered left toward the restaurant. Simone stopped and stared after him a moment, half-wondering if he really would go into the kitchen. He didn’t have a reason to lie, she hoped, but he was oddly “around,” lately.
Angry with herself for the unwarranted suspicion, she continued forward through the spacious, comfortable lobby toward the front desk. She hadn’t so much as stepped a toe in the building in about two years, and even with all the time that had passed, her nerves were on edge. A few feet later she was greeted by two smiling blonde women in their mid-twenties, wearing matching burgundy vests and tan shirts. One was in a long-sleeve, the other in a half-sleeve. Both had their hair tied up behind their head. One looked a little older, and slimmer than her half-sleeved counterpart.
“Hi, I was hired earlier today.” Simone put on her best smile and tried to approach them with confidence.
The heavier blonde narrowed her eyes as she looked Simone over.
“There is a note about you. Come around the back and we’ll get your paperwork started.” As Simone got close, she checked the woman’s name tag. “Diane.”
The older woman winked kindly. “Welcome to the Blue Crest. You’re going to love it here.” Her name tag read “Amber.”
Simone laughed, a little nervous. She couldn’t tell if Amber’s response was sarcasm, programming, or truth. It probably was sarcasm. Their boss had just been murdered upstairs, and the hotel was open f
or business. Whose decision was that, then?
As she went around to the side and into the small back office area, she saw an old man sitting in Sid’s chair. He looked ancient as he sat smoking a huge cigar, surrounded by clouds of second-hand smoke. Simone wasn’t going in there. She’d say she was allergic.
To her relief, she didn’t have to. The old man got up and shuffled to the door, waving at Diane to go away as he shut it.
“Sid’s father. He came over right away. You heard what happened to Sid, right?”
Diane said.
Simone nodded. “I almost didn’t come back. Scary, right?”
“Oh, I’m sure we’re safe. Sid was a good boss, but he had issues. Kept the wrong kind of company, if you know what I mean.”
Simone didn’t but she nodded. “Wrong kind” was highly subjective, but this wasn’t the time to ask for Diane’s version.
“Staff room is here. You’re on the schedule.” She pointed to a tack board next to a row of lockers. The room itself was huge, doubling as a meeting room.
“The comm book said you get two to three shifts a week, any day but Thursday. I hope you’re not expecting me to stick to that. We all have to be flexible. We’re a team.”
Simone nodded again, not sure who said any day but Thursday. It didn’t matter.
“We had three people call in sick, and Sid’s not even in the kiln yet.” Diane made a tsking sound, like each sick call was a failure to respect even the most basic of work ethics.
Simone glanced at the schedule. She’d be working every second day, it seemed.
Afternoon shift. That was good. She preferred having her mornings free. She could still work at the café until 2 p.m., if Carol was okay with it.
Diane thrust a new uniform into Simone’s hands.
“Change in there.” She pointed to a small bathroom in the back of the locker room.
“Or before you come in to work. Not out here. Modesty, you know. Come to the counter when you’re ready. You have five minutes.” Diane turned and left.
Chuckling, Simone went and changed. Diane was probably a good leader, even if she did suffer from Little Boss syndrome.
Simone’s uniform fit well enough, but not having a chance to wash the starch out had her legs itching.
Out behind the front desk counter, everything was set up the way she remembered and most of their procedures were the same.
“You’re a natural,” Amber said.
Simone leaned over and whispered, “I used to work here, a few years ago.” She made the ‘shhh’ sign with her finger, not sure why. It made Amber giggle, though, so that was good.
“I’m going to walk the floors.” Diane looked at Simone. “We do casual inspections once a shift, looking for wear and tear or anything out of the ordinary.”
“She’ll be gone about half an hour.” Amber visibly relaxed. “She’s good, but wow, I think she generates stress just by breathing some days. I’m glad we only schedule two people on days when we’re booked over 80 percent. She’s not even scheduled to work right now.”
“I know this is weird, but there’s no good time to ask … what happened to Sid?”
Simone didn’t expect information she didn’t already have, but it would be weird if she didn’t ask. Amber looked around, hesitant, before continuing quietly. “They say it was murder, but I know for a fact he has a heart problem. I bet it his dad is saying murder for the publicity. Our occupancy is way down. Can you imagine when the news starts calling it murder, just how many from pages we’ll be on?” She looked mildly horrified.
Simone felt herself fade a bit. She wanted to say something to reassure Amber, but so far the facts did point to murder. And Sid’s dad? What kind of parent would exploit their child’s death like that?
“Do you mind if I read back through the communication book? I don’t want to make any obvious mistakes.”
Amber smiled and pulled it out of one of the counter drawers. “You’ll want to go through all the different drawers and make sure you know where to find things. You’re on your own here in the evenings, and when someone is on the other side of the counter staring at you, it’s better not to keep them waiting.”
“What’s up with the restaurant?”
“How do you mean?”
“Are they busy?”
“I think sometimes they’re the reason the whole business is still going. And now that they have a liquor license, it’s been busy for them.”
Simone nodded and held up the communication book. “Can I read this in the back?
It’s distracting here, with people walking by all the time.”
Amber nodded. “Wait here a minute. I’ll get you a coffee. How do you take it?”
“Two creamers, please.”
Amber glanced toward the restaurant.
“You get it from the restaurant?” Simone asked.
“They say it’s an opportunity to connect with staff over there. They probably think it limits how much we drink.”
“But it doesn’t?”
“Have you seen the new pastry chef? He covers for the sous chef sometimes, too.”
Amber winked. “I don’t get coffee just to get coffee, if you take my meaning.”
Simone squirmed internally, hoping this didn’t turn into an awkward boy-crush conversation. Not that she didn’t have those moments herself, but she didn’t talk about them.
“Oh, wait! Oh, no … did I just put my foot in my mouth? I saw you two walk in together. He’s not your boyfriend or something, is he?” Her face went beet red.
Simone smiled. “No. We just met yesterday.”
“That’s a relief.” She fanned her face with her hand a moment. “I can’t believe I said that … but he is hot, you know? And cute. That’s a wicked combination. I think it’s the hair.
And eyes. And, well, let’s face it—he’s definitely got a workout routine going on. Wait here until I get back, okay? The bosses want someone at the counter at all times,” she said, turning to go for coffee. “Just nod and say hello to people.”
Simone frowned, watching Amber lilt across the lobby into the dining room. Sure, Mitch had his appeal. He was … good-looking. But cute? Was he someone’s house pet? An image of him in cat ears flashed into her mind and she nearly choked as she started laughing.
Stop that. She looked around, hoping no one had seen her, then flipped the communication book open. She’d start with the current notes and work her way backward.
“Oh, good,” Diane said as she walked behind the counter. “You’re catching up.
Where is Amber? Oh, wait. Coffee run, right?” She huffed a sigh. “Hope she remembers to bring me one this time. Sometimes I think she forgets it on purpose.”
“Can you tell me what happened to Sid?”
“Oh, so you’re one of the blunt ones. You might want to tone that back.” She tapped her fingers on the counter and sighed. “It is unfortunate, what happened to him. Inevitable, but unfortunate.”
“How do you mean?”
“We can talk about it another time. That’s his dad in the office right now. I’d hate to be overheard. People don’t think clearly when they’re grieving.”
Amber returned with three cups of coffee on a small tray. “I’ll put one on the table back here. Simone needs to do some reading.” As she handed one of the small white diner-style mugs to Diane, she leaned in. “I think we’ll be okay. You should go home.”
“Fine—be back in the morning anyway.” She put the mug down on the table after emptying it. “A long day. This has been a long day. When the reporters come back, tell them you don’t have any new information and that they should go talk to the police.
Anything you say will seem official because of your position here. You value your job, you will hold your tongue.”
Simone sat down and tried to concentrate on the communication book. She was only a few pages in when her phone buzzed.
It was Rene. ‘I’m leaving town for a few days; find a way to watch o
ver Carol.’
She frowned at her phone. How am I supposed to do that with two jobs already, and a murder to sort?
She didn’t respond. First day on the job and she needed to duck out? No. She must have read it wrong. Watch her, not shadow her. Simone nodded to herself. She made a repeating alarm on her phone, telling her to watch over Carol, setting it for a week.
Her phone beeped again.
‘Quit screwing around. Get the package. Extension granted, but no more.’ The number was the same as the courier message from earlier, she noted. She looked around.
No one could see her where she sat. It was a small office room with one curtained window.
But she didn’t do the delivery. They didn’t need to follow her to know that.
‘I quit. Go away,’ she messaged back.
There was a delay. ‘No one quits.’
It was like a line from a bad gang movie. It was time to tell Rene.
‘I know you’re busy, but I’ve had two courier messages in the last two days. What should I do? This new one is making threats,’ she messaged Rene.
‘Text me the phone number,’ he responded.
‘Then what?’ She sent the number and tried to go back to reading.
‘Focus on Sid,’ Rene messaged.
Right. Focus.
The rest of the evening went quietly. Amber was right about the lack of rooms booked. After the shift ended, Simone went home tired from the boredom, from the long day, from the forced change. She wanted to emotionally disengage, but the full moon was brighter than it had been in a long time. She couldn’t fade far enough to escape today.
At home, Simone tried to sleep. Every time her eyes closed a different memory echoed through her head. Not from childhood when her family moved every three years, or from her late teens when she left home. That would have made sense.
The memories keeping her up were not her own. These were from Sid, and Tara who died a month before him, and countless others before them that she tried to forget. The murders she didn’t solve. Couldn’t solve.
She’d get Sid’s sorted. She’d get Frank’s confession. You do a little fading in front of most people and they get unhinged, tell you anything you want to know. Insist on the truth.