Head Trip

by D. L. Line

  “Not really. I told him I wanted a hard copy as well as the copy he e-mailed me. So he knew I had one. In fact, he had much the same look on his face as you do now when I told him I wanted one. Do you know how many people in this country lose everything, and I mean everything, because their online records get hacked? Or they cheap out on software and their system crashes? I did a story about it for the magazine when I first started there. I’ve been backing my stuff up with hard copy ever since.”

  “The pictures?”

  Trish smiled and rocked back on her heels. “The pictures are just nostalgia. My mom always thought the whole photography thing with film and chemical developing was like magic. She took most of them. She was always popping up at odd moments to take pictures of us. Sometimes her timing wasn’t the greatest.”

  Shelby nodded, thinking back to the lip lock that had been captured on film. She wondered what Trish’s mom had thought about that. “Well, I think I’ve introduced some order back into the chaos over here, but you may never be able to find anything again. I don’t know. Why don’t I help with the rest?”

  Shelby and Trish hung clothes back on hangers and refilled the closet. They matched shoes and put them back in their boxes. They folded the duvet and stuffed the torn sheets in the trash. Finally, they put the mattress back on the bed just to clear the path.

  “The broken glass will have to wait,” said Trish. “I’m not going to cut my hands to ribbons trying to get it out of the carpet. I’ll call a service in the morning. I think we’ve done everything we can in here.”

  “Wait a second,” Shelby called from behind the closet door. She stepped out into the room and turned on the lamp on the bedside table. “I found this. I hope it’s all intact.” She handed Trish a small wooden box that was scarred, but it appeared to be a result of age rather than vandalism.

  “Oh, I nearly forgot about that. It was in my closet on the shelf. I hadn’t thought they had found it. Where was it?” She took the box from Shelby and lifted the lid. One hinge was detached from the box, which Trish treated like glass.

  “It was on its side between the wall and the shelving. Is everything okay?”

  “No, dammit. My grandmother’s ring is missing!”

  “Wait, I’ll check in the closet to make sure it didn’t fall out when the box fell.”

  Shelby looked but found nothing. She didn’t want to tell Trish and see that look of loss on her face again. When she stepped out of the closet, she didn’t have to say a word.

  “It isn’t in there, is it?” Tears began to roll down Trish’s face. “Goddamnit! I didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t even take a freaking vacation with these people. They fucked up, not me. This is so unfair.”

  Shelby didn’t know what the right thing to do was. So she did what felt right. She wrapped Trish in her arms and let her cry.

  “It was my grandmother’s wedding ring. It probably wasn’t worth anything, except to me. I was hoping I could give it to someone someday. This has been the shittiest day!”

  When Trish’s shoulders stopped shaking, Shelby gently pushed her to arm’s length. She wiped Trish’s tears with her thumbs. “Tomorrow, I want you to call the police and tell them about the ring. It’ll probably show up at a pawnshop or something. We’ll find it.” Shelby looked up in the general direction of the doorway. “You know, I think Jake must have worked some miracles in the kitchen.”

  “Why do you say that?” Trish sniffed and wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt.

  “’Cause I smell popcorn.”

  Jake had indeed worked miracles in the kitchen. The counters were no longer dusted with black residue. The pantry was restored, and the dishwasher hummed. Three enormous trash bags stood just outside the doorway to the kitchen, more evidence of Jake’s miracle work. Jake stood next to the small island, bowl of popcorn in front of him, pouring three glasses of wine.

  “Jake, you are a godsend.” Shelby scooped up a glass and handed it to Trish.

  “Wow, you really are. Thank you, both of you. I had actually entertained thoughts of just moving out rather than cleaning this place up. The kitchen looks better than it did before it got trashed.”

  Jake raised his glass. “Yeah, that’s me. Jake Fraser, champion of damsels in distress and all around great guy.”

  Shelby and Trish raised their glasses in answer and then dug into the popcorn bowl.

  “You’re lucky in one way, Trish,” Jake mumbled through a mouthful of popcorn.

  “How’s that?” Trish answered.

  “At least your living room and dining room have wood floors. I don’t think it’ll take too much to get them back in shape. How about your bedroom?”

  “It’s a total loss. The bed is ruined. The carpet is full of glass. I hope you’re right about the living room being easily fixable because that’s where we’re going to be bunking tonight.”

  Shelby took a step backward and leaned out of the kitchen to survey the living room. Maybe it wasn’t the ruin that Trish’s bedroom was, but it would still be some time before any of them got any sleep.

  *

  When she finally awoke, it was to the sound of Jake’s snoring from across the room. Bright light poured in through the sliding glass door. Where was she? She was stiff and sore, that much was sure. She took a quick inventory. She was lying on the couch with her feet still in their sneakers, and her head was in someone’s lap. Well, it wasn’t Jake’s because he was sprawled happily in the recliner. Which meant it was Trish’s lap, and that was okay with her. She thought about closing her eyes and going back to sleep, but Trish shifted and Shelby became aware of just how much sunlight was streaming through the door. Carefully, she sat up, trying not to disturb Trish, whose head lolled on the back of the couch. Shelby got up and then eased Trish down on the couch and covered her with an afghan.

  Shelby tiptoed into the kitchen and put a pot of coffee on then checked the time.

  “Holy crap!” It was after noon. The last time she had looked at the clock it was about 4:30 a.m. She never slept this much. She quickly phoned in to work to let them know Jake was working on a special project from home for her and then wandered down the hall to the bathroom. Shelby didn’t like what she saw in the mirror.

  You are not looking so well, Shelby Hutchinson.

  “Tell me something I don’t know, Tasha.” Shelby rubbed her face with both hands. It didn’t help.

  You don’t know how you will find Trish’s ring. You don’t know how you will defeat your enemies at this Head Trip place.

  “Wow, thanks for that.”

  The knock at the door startled Shelby into silence. “Shelby? Who are you talking to?” Oh, crap. It was Trish.

  Shelby opened the door to see Trish holding two cups of coffee and wearing a concerned look on her face.

  “Sorry, just talking to myself. I do that. You brought me coffee.” She took the cup from Trish and took a tentative sip. “Mm. You do realize this makes you the perfect woman, don’t you?” She closed her eyes and inhaled the rich, dark brew.

  “I try.”

  Shelby realized what she had said and wondered if it was safe to open her eyes. Flirting with a woman who had just been robbed was pretty low, but then she couldn’t just stand here, eyes closed, looking like a doofus, so she opened her eyes and saw the half-smile on Trish’s face. “You succeed,” she said in an almost whisper before clearing her throat. “Is Jake up yet?”

  “Nope, snoring away. I hope you don’t mind. I ordered us a little breakfast—I guess lunch is more accurate—from the cantina down the block. They deliver, and I figured we could use it. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

  “That sounds great. You know, other than that great big lump over there that is Jake, this place looks pretty good, considering.”

  “Yeah, I think we made a great team last night. I still can’t thank you enough.”

  The doorbell rang and Shelby said, “Breakfast is a good start.”

  They woke Jake
, who joined them for an enormous breakfast of chorizo and eggs before heading off to his apartment. Shelby pushed away from the table and resisted the urge to lick her fingers.

  “That was so good. Thank you.”

  “You are most welcome. I eat there all the time so they take good care of me.” Trish shrugged and smiled.

  “You eat there all the time? How is it that your ass isn’t huge? I mean, wow, that didn’t come out quite right.”

  Trish laughed. “That’s okay. I play a lot of racquetball just so I can eat like this.” She stood and started clearing plates. “What’s next on the Head Trip agenda?”

  Neither of them had mentioned Head Trip until this. It had been too nice a day to ruin with thoughts of Andrew and his bloodsucking greed. Shelby sighed.

  “Now that it’s past lunchtime, I think I’ll call Lois and see if I can talk her into meeting me later. Maybe in daylight, maybe at the police station. I think it’s time to stop the cloak-and-dagger bullshit and just go after Andrew.”

  “I think you’re right. Whether Lois decides to go to the police or not, maybe you would be willing to go with me? I am going to go tell them about my grandmother’s ring and the contract. I think this is way too big for us to handle alone or with just my attorney. This is definitely a police matter.”

  Shelby was relieved to hear that. As much as she loved her spy games, this one was real, and she had discovered recently real was more dangerous than make believe by far. “Okay then, let me call Lois and see how persuasive I can be.”

  She retrieved her phone from her pocket and dialed the Head Trip number.

  “Head Trip Travel Services. Where would you like to go today?”

  “Hello, I’d like to speak with Lois Evans, please.”

  There was no reply. Shelby looked at her phone to make sure she was still connected.

  “Hello?”

  “I’m sorry. Ms. Evans is not in.”

  The voice on the phone was shaking. What was going on here?

  “But she asked me to call her this afternoon. Are you sure she isn’t in?”

  The voice lowered to a painful whisper. “Yes, ma’am. Lois was killed in an automobile accident last night. We’re all just devastated, but maybe there is someone else who could help you?”

  “No. No thank you. I’m sorry for your loss.” Shelby stood stock-still. What had happened to Lois? Had she buckled her seat belt in the cab? Shelby felt a hand on her shoulder.

  “Shelby, what is it?”

  “Lois is dead. There was a car accident.”

  “Oh my God. I’m so sorry.”

  Shelby sank into the dining room chair. “I hardly knew her at all, but I thought putting her in the cab was the right thing to do. She had had a few drinks. She was upset because of this whole Andrew mess. She was scared, and I thought a cab was the way to go.”

  “Listen to me. You are not responsible for this. It was an accident. If you hadn’t put her in the cab, she could have killed someone and herself. Do you know where it happened?”

  “No, but we were at O’Donnell’s on McClaren and I gave her address to the cabbie. So it had to be somewhere in between there.”

  Trish retrieved a pad of paper and a pen from the kitchen and pulled out her own phone. “Here’s what we’re going to do. Write down Lois’s address for me. I will call my office and get in touch with Hannah. She handles the police beat. She’ll look into this a bit and see what happened. Meanwhile, you go get in the shower. My robe is on the back of the door. Towels are under the sink.”

  “I remember,” murmured Shelby. This was all getting to be too much. Maybe if she went back to sleep, she would wake up and none of this would be real. No Lois, no robbery, no Head Trip, no seizures, no Tasha, no Trish?

  You would not like that so much, Shelby Hutchinson. You would miss me.

  “I don’t think so, Tasha.”

  “What?” asked Trish.

  “Nothing. I think a shower is a good idea. I’ll be out in a few.”

  Shelby left Trish to her phone calls and shuffled down the hall to Trish’s bedroom. Before heading for the bathroom, she rummaged around until she found a pair of sweats and a T-shirt in one of Trish’s drawers. Checking the sizes, she made a mental note to take up racquetball, dropped the clothes on the bed, and went on to the bathroom.

  She turned the water up as hot as she could stand it and stood under the spray, letting the heat work on the knots in her neck and shoulders. About the time she had decided to reach for the soap, she realized she was crying and then she couldn’t stop. She cried for Lois. She cried for Trish. She cried for herself. She even cried for the comatose climber. She cried until the water became uncomfortably cool then she quickly soaped her hair and body, rinsed off in the now-freezing water, and stepped out of the shower. Her feet sank into the cushy bath mat as she toweled off and dried her hair until it stood out in damp spikes all over her head. Shelby wrapped herself in Trish’s robe and opened the bathroom door.

  “Watch your step.” Trish sat on the edge of the bed. Shelby wondered how long she had been sitting there and just how loudly she had been crying. “Broken glass. Don’t cut yourself.”

  Shelby was keenly aware of how naked she was under the robe. “What’s up?”

  “I talked with Hannah at work. She looked into Lois’s accident for us.”

  “And?”

  “And the accident happened out on the west side loop. She took a turn too sharply and careened off the ramp. The car burst into flame. The identification was by dental record. They’re waiting on toxicology reports, but the police believe alcohol was involved because there was an empty bottle of vodka in the car.”

  “I don’t understand. She didn’t have her car. I put her in a cab. I gave you the address. She lived on the other side of town.”

  “Maybe she decided she was okay to drive and had the cabbie take her back to the pub. Maybe she picked up the car and had the accident after that.”

  “But that’s completely the wrong direction.”

  “She was drunk, Shelby. She got turned around. Or maybe she was on her way out of town, running away. You said she was scared.”

  Shelby started pulling clothes on under the robe. “She wasn’t that drunk.”

  “But the bottle in the car—”

  “Could have been put there by anyone. It could have been full, but the fire would have evaporated all the vodka. Besides, she wasn’t drinking vodka. She was drinking scotch at the pub. It’s just too weird and too damn convenient for Andrew. Do you know where she is?”

  Trish nodded. “She’s at Northwestern.”

  Shelby smiled. She knew that was weird, but she was done crying. “How do you feel about a little trip to the morgue?”

  “Is that a serious question?”

  *

  After a quick stop at Shelby’s apartment to retrieve her ID badge, Shelby had Trish park in the visitor lot near the emergency room of the hospital. If it all worked as she had planned, they would be in and out of the building without ever coming near any of her co-workers on the fifth floor. Because she worked in the IT department, her badge gave her access to almost any door in the place. They grabbed the elevator just inside the doors, and Shelby pushed the button for the basement.

  “Oh my God, it’s really in the basement, just like in the movies?” asked Trish.

  “Well, yeah. It’s quiet down here. No traffic. You can’t have a lot of people running into the morgue on their way to obstetrics. Bad for business. I thought you had contacts in this hospital?”

  “I do, but I don’t write stories about death and murder. I write about doctors abusing prescription medication or nurses scheduled for so many shifts it affects patient care. I’ve never been anywhere near the morgue.”

  They stopped in front of a large set of double doors. Shelby passed her badge in front of the reader and the doors opened with a mechanical whoosh.

  “You have now. Welcome to the hereafter.”

  “God, y
ou have a weird sense of humor.”

  “Yeah, sorry. I think it’s my version of whistling in the graveyard. You can’t work in a hospital for any length of time without developing some kind of defense mechanism about death. Come on over here.”

  Shelby led Trish into a large room of gleaming tile and bright light with a bank of small doors on one wall. Several hospital gurneys and metal carts took up the middle of the room, and a desk sat on the opposite side near another door. Shelby made a beeline for the desk and the computer sitting on it. She entered her pass code into the computer.

  “Excuse me. Can I help you?” The voice was almost menacing but quickly changed. “Oh, Shelby, it’s you. I hadn’t realized you were back at work. Are you feeling better, then?”

  Shelby wheeled the desk chair away from the desk and turned to face the newcomer. “I am feeling better, Dr. Horvath, thanks, but I’m not back at work yet. I’m here for personal reasons.”

  “Personal reasons? And who is this?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” said Shelby. “This is my friend Trish Aronoff. She came with me as emotional support. You see, another friend of mine—Lois Evans—was killed in an MVA last night, and I came because I knew they brought her here.”

  Dr. Horvath put a heavy hand on Shelby’s shoulder. “I am so sorry for your loss, Shelby, but all you had to do was call. I could answer any questions for you. You know that. You don’t want to see her. There was a fire, and we had to use dental records for the identification of the remains.”

  A horrible image flashed through Shelby’s head and with it a pinpoint of pain just behind her forehead. “So you’re sure then that it was Lois?”

  “I’m afraid so. Were you close?”

  “We were pretty close. In fact, I saw her last night. The police mentioned they thought alcohol was involved. That wasn’t like her at all.” Shelby saw Trish’s eyes go wide. She was fishing and tried to send Trish a mental message to just play along.

  Dr. Horvath seated himself at the computer and pulled up a file. “Well, we won’t know for certain until the tox screen comes back. If it gives you any consolation, she didn’t suffer. She was killed instantly by the impact, massive head trauma.”