Cupcakes,Lies and Dead Guys

by PamelaDuMond

  The Observer lay on a chaise lounge chair next to the hot tub and sipped some tea. She watched Annie walk into the steam room and frowned. She was through with stalking and shocking. The last time she felt this angry she almost killed someone. The killing thing seemed to be turning into a habit. The Observer got up off her chair and walked towards the steam room.

  Thick clouds of steam puffed from ceiling and wall jets in spurts and hisses. The steam saturated the small tiled room. The hot fog almost obscured two tiers of tiled benches. Annie found her way to the first bench in the steam room’s corner and plopped down. She closed her eyes. The eucalyptus smelled cleansing and felt refreshing. Steam away, she thought. Steam away the hurt, the pain, the tobacco lungs and the stress. Help me open my heart and breathe in new life.

  The door to the steam room opened and closed. Annie squinted and watched a woman attired in a robe, with the hood pulled over her head, enter the room. She took a seat on a bench adjacent to Annie, dropped her hooded head in her hands and sighed. Yet another overly stressed soul. It was like an epidemic in Los Angeles.

  Annie reflected on the most recent events. Was Tawny flakey and sweet? Or simply, a calculating killer? Who else stood to gain from the old will? Yes, the percentages had changed on who got what. Was there anything else to bequeath, besides the money?

  Yes. She thought of eggs. Not the fish eggs that eliminated her under eye circles, but fertile, baby-making eggs. Probably two-thirds of women in the world at some point, wanted to be in an intimate committed relationship and have a kid. Then there was…

  Derrick’s frozen, but yet still viable sperm was listed in his will. He’d offered her a baby from a vial of his man seed popsicles that resided in a tiny cold vault at St. Cecelia’s Sperm Bank, but he’d also promised his swimmers to someone else. “Derrick!” she said in her head. “To whom else did you promise sperm? Who in your life really wanted to be a mom?”

  Derrick examined his eyebrows in the immaculate bathroom mirrors just feet from the steam room. He read somewhere that one’s hair continued growing after death. Apparently this was true, as spare longish, hairs littered his formerly groomed brows. He thought he heard someone call his name. Sounded like Annie. She could sit for a while and stew. How many times could a guy apologize?

  Dammit, the healing waters would have to wait. Annie had to call Detective Rafe with her new insight. She got up from the steam room bench and headed towards the door.

  The hooded woman got up at the same time and stood in front of her. “Excuse me,” Annie said. She tried to walk around the woman, who took a step in the same direction and blocked her way. Obviously, this poor dear was not only stressed but also hearing impaired. “I’m sorry,” Annie said loudly and slowly. “I hate to interrupt your cleansing pore therapy, but I must leave. Now.” She touched the arm of this exhausted, possibly deaf woman and tried to step around her.

  Annie reeled backwards. She flew like a cheesy cable news guy getting Tasered for better ratings. She landed hard on the steam room’s floor in a heap, seething with anger like some wannabe who’d been cruelly voted off a reality show. But this wasn’t her anger. Yeah there – this reaction was definitely an empathic hit.

  The hooded woman really didn’t like her. The woman wanted to kill her.

  Annie heard a distinctive click; the sound of a gun cocking. Thank you, brother Carson, his gun-nutty friends and a thousand episodes of Law & Order.

  The woman pointed a gun at Annie. “No-go, Dimwit. Thanks to you, my sperm, my future child will be destroyed tomorrow,” the woman said. “I have a window and you’ve been messing with it for weeks. But you will not close my window. Because I am slamming yours shut, forever.” The woman shoved the gun in Annie’s ribs.

  Annie gasped. “Derrick!” she screamed. Between the thick steam and her attacker’s hood she couldn’t see the woman’s face. “Derrick – help!”

  “Derrick’s dead, you idiot,” The woman poked Annie in her ribs with the gun again. “You will be soon, too. Thanks to fertility drugs and my twenty-four hour admittance pass to St. Cecelia’s, I have access to his sperm.”

  Annie knew this was her only moment.

  “Oh my God!” she exclaimed as she whip turned and stared over her shoulder. “Over in the corner - is that Angelina? Should she be in the steam if she’s pregnant again?” In the millisecond that the hooded woman turned to look, Annie grabbed the gun and wrestled its barrel away from her stomach.

  “Derrick!” Annie screamed.

  Derrick watched Bootsy Bauerfeld meander into the spa’s bathroom area. She wore the spa’s signature sashed robe and eyed the scales. Bootsy looked in the mirror and pulled in her tummy. Had she lost weight? The scales told the truth.

  Out of nowhere, Annie screamed his name. This time it wasn’t in his head. Even Bootsy heard it and glanced around, curious. The stitch on Derrick’s dead butt cheek itched for the first time since he was alive. He had a strange feeling that Annie found his killer.

  Annie and the woman fought for control of the weapon. Annie located a major steam vent when she leaned against it and burnt her arm. Hurt like a mother, but gave her a great idea. She kicked the woman repetitively in her shin and shoved her backwards - right over the steam vent. The steam released and hissed loudly. Right on the back of the hooded woman’s head. Score!

  “I estimate these robes have a 200% plus thread count,” the woman said. “Nice try. That won’t even pop a blister.”

  “Derrick! Help! Not kidding!” Annie hollered.

  Derrick surmised this was his moment to pass to the After-Life. He looked in the mirror. He was reasonably coiffed. He licked his finger and tried to tame his errant eyebrow hairs. If it was his time, he had to be presentable and prepared. Checklist: Franco, his son, was safe and taken care of. His new will had been read. He, Dr. Derrick Fuller was still fabulous. Anything else before he transitioned? Oh right, the identity of his killer. And the well being of Annie Rose Graceland. He promised. He turned from the mirror and strode through the door that led into the steam room.

  Derrick saw Annie wrestling for a gun with a person wearing a hooded robe.

  “For the love of God, Derrick. What are you waiting for? The Labor Day Sale at Macy’s?”

  “I’ll do the world a favor by taking you out,” the woman said. “You’re nuts. You don’t deserve to be a mother.”

  “What?” Annie asked.

  “What!” Derrick exclaimed.

  The two women grappled, kicked, slipped and landed on the wet tiled floor. The gun flew across the room into a far corner.

  “What can I do?” Derrick asked.

  The woman kneed Annie in the stomach.

  “Oof!” Annie yelled. “Find a way to call 911. Say hello to the chick that killed you. Do you recognize her?”

  “No! I can’t see her face with that hood. Stop playing cutesy and get rid of the hood.”

  “Cutesy?” Annie said.

  “Don’t you dare call me “cutesy”! I’m a professional,” the woman said. “What are you? Nothing but a family wrecker.”

  “Cupcake killer!” Annie countered. “Why would anyone want to bear your child, Derrick?”

  “It might be a good idea to be nice to me, if you want me to save you.”

  “Me, be nice? Kiss my – ”

  The woman slugged Annie across her face. Annie reeled. Her attacker grabbed the towel draped on her shoulder, wrapped it around Annie’s throat and strangled her from behind.

  “I’m more than happy to tell you, “Why?” she hissed into Annie’s ear. “Because I loved him, I believed in him and he promised me. He promised me, for years.”

  Annie collapsed on the tiled floor, struggled, and tried her best to pull off the towel squeezed like a boa constrictor around her neck. She gurgled and eyed Derrick. “Ah die Dick – no Afa-Life fa you. Ah pomise,” Annie said. She pulled on the towel with both hands. But the woman, Derrick’s killer, had her in a chokehold.

  Derrick flew out
the steam room’s door and spotted Bootsy, nibbling a little trail mix and eyeing the scales. He leaned in and caressed her face. “It’s time, Bootsy. Do it. I promise. You lost a boat load of weight.”

  Bootsy’s face turned red and she fanned herself. Put one foot on the scale, looked a little scared and took that foot off. She turned and headed for the healing waters.

  Derrick jumped in front of her, grabbed her shoulders, jiggled his silver thong package. “No Bootsy! You’ve counted cals, cut out carbs, went on the cookie diet, walked a thousand miles on the treadmill, and even started an organic line of healthy diet foods. It’s time Boots. I promise you.”

  Boots hesitated, looked back at the scales.

  Annie choked from the towel wrapped like a vise around her neck. “Why me?” she squeaked. Knew it was a stupid question, but sometimes stupid questions bought time when the person killing you, needed to vent, first.

  “Because you and your idiot cheating husband mocked my dream. After twenty years of empty promises, even I had a breaking point. Frankly, your cheating husband, your blossoming bakery business and your desire to have a child made you, Dimwit, easy to frame.”

  Annie grunted. Her eyesight blurred. Perhaps due to the steam, or all the blood squeezing out of her brain. A vision of a big fat devil’s food cupcake appeared before her like it was on a high-def plasma TV big-screen. Annie knew that cupcake had no trans-fat, was completely healthy because it was wrapped in cellophane with a Piccolino’s pastry sticker on top. Her sticker, when she was still married, before her Valentine’s Day Major Life Debacle #12. It was probably a pre-death hallucination. Or was it…

  An empathic hit? Devil’s Food Cupcakes. Piccolino’s pastries. Who knew Annie was a baker? Who wanted Derrick’s baby? Who thought she was easy to frame? Who knew Mike was cheating? Maybe someone else who was romantically involved with Derrick.

  Bootsy Bauerfeld stood in front of a scale in the spa’s bathroom area. She took a deep breath.

  “You can do it Boots,” Derrick whispered in her ear. He put his hand on the small of her back and pushed her towards the scale.

  Bootsy kicked off her spa slippers. She took off her earrings, necklaces, rings, toe rings, ankle bracelets, and medic-alert bracelets and placed them on the counter next to her. She shrugged off her robe and wobbled naked towards the scale. Hesitated.

  Derrick felt bad he hadn’t encouraged Bootsy to train with Ginger. “Jenny Craig’s sitting in a dark closet, shoving double stuffed Oreos down her throat and contemplating slitting her wrists. Do it, Boots. I am Dr. Derrick Fuller and I promise you.”

  Bootsy stepped on the scale. Adjusted the first big marker. Adjusted the smaller marker. Stared at it and screamed out loud. “Yes! Yes! Yes!” she exclaimed.

  Derrick covered his ears. Then his eyes.

  Distracted by Bootsy’s screams, Annie’s attacker turned her head and lightened her grip on the towel. Annie seized the opportunity, yanked the towel from around her neck and head butted the woman. She whip turned, grabbed the woman’s hood and tried to pull it off. “Who are you? Why did you kill Derrick? Why did you set me up?”

  The woman kicked and resisted her. But the hood came off in stages. An inch, a little more. Another four inches revealed her attacker’s face.

  Derrick poked his head back through the steam room’s door. “Jennifer?”

  Annie looked shocked. “Nurse Jennifer?”

  Nurse Jennifer’s eyes were wild. Annie didn’t think the fight was out of her yet.

  Neither did Derrick. “I’ve known Jennifer for twenty years and she’s got a stubborn streak. I’d scream first and ask questions later.”

  Annie screamed and Jennifer bolted. Already on her hands and knees, Annie slapped the floor of the steam room with both her hands until she found the gun.

  Jennifer raced out of the steam room door and was into spa bathroom territory when Annie grabbed her ankle.

  Bootsy was apoplectic and doing the naked happy dance when Annie grabbed Jennifer’s hair. Jennifer crashed to the ground next to Bootsy.

  Annie crawled out of the steam room with the gun trained on Jennifer. “Bootsy Bauerfeld,” Annie said.

  Booty’s eyes widened as she saw Annie with the gun. She stopped dancing.

  “Huge congrats on the weight loss,” Annie said. “Now, step away from the murdering bitch on the floor and call 911.”

  Bootsy complied, grabbed her robe and ran out of the bathroom area.

  “Derrick promised me a baby. For twenty years. He promised,” Jennifer said and wrung her hands. “I excused his affairs. Then he changed his will. I knew it when I saw him with Franco. He lied. Over and over, Derrick, Mr. I Promise Fuller lied. What was I supposed to do?”

  Sirens rang in the distance.

  “Jeez. I don’t know. There doesn’t seem to be a lack of sperm in the world,” Annie said. “Murder the lying jerk and risk going to prison or worse. Option B: Buy someone else’s manly juice at a friendly sperm bank. Or Option C: Hang at a local sports bar during Monday night football. You’d score a free couple of beers and not even pay for your swimmers.”

  “But I loved Derrick. I took care of him throughout his entire cancer ordeal.”

  “We grew close,” Derrick said. “I promised her….” He looked embarrassed.

  “Derrick, you have to stop promising things you have no intention of giving,” Annie said. “It’s not right, it’s not fair and it hurts people.”

  “At least you get it,” Jennifer replied.

  When Detectives Kyle Pardue and Rafe Campillio burst into Inhale Spa’s healing waters’ bathroom, guns drawn. Kyle aimed his weapon at Annie. Rafe aimed his at Jennifer.

  “Drop the gun,” Kyle said to Annie. “I knew there was something wrong with you.”

  Annie dropped the gun.

  Rafe walked past several black and white police cars on his way to a paramedic van parked outside the spa. A policeman strung yellow tape strung around the spa’s sidewalk perimeter. Another uniformed cop manned the boundary and politely turned away invitees for tonight’s event. Two more cops gently pushed back the growing crowd of curious looky-loos.

  Annie sat on the open-ended back of a paramedic’s truck. A paramedic gal checked her arm and leg reflexes. She kicked and spasmed appropriately which she assumed meant her reflexes were responsive and healthy. The paramedic shone lights in her eyes. They tracked correctly. That probably meant she didn’t have brain damage. Someone on the EMT squad asked her what day it was and who was the current president. She answered correctly on the president question, but screwed up on the tricky day question. Annie was exhausted. Rafe walked up and asked her if she wanted to go to the hospital. She said no.

  Kyle walked past with Nurse Jennifer in handcuffs. Pushed her into a black and white. “My collar,” he said as he glanced at Rafe and a couple of Santa Monica’s finest. No one argued. Kyle got into the front passenger seat and the car pulled away.

  Rafe noticed the multi-colored bruises forming on Annie’s face and throat. “We want to question you at the station. You okay with that?”

  “Step aside. Move it,” Julia said as she pushed her way through the crowd to the paramedic’s truck.

  Annie saw Julia. Her face was flushed, she was sweaty, her blouse undone to bra level and a big hickey blossomed on her neck. “You called Julia?” Annie asked Rafe. “Am I still a suspect?”

  “Yes, I called Julia. She’s your best friend. I believe that you were set up in Derrick Fuller’s murder, and I believe that you’re actually a witness,” Rafe said. “While Jennifer admitted she killed Dr. Derrick Fuller, you’re not out of the woods yet.”

  Annie looked at Rafe. “You’re cute, smart, thoughtful and hotter than an organic chipotle pepper farm. I’m from Wisconsin. I’m, butter, milk. I’m dairy. I get this vibe that you like me. Why?”

  Rafe leaned into her and rubbed her shoulders. “I’m lactose tolerant,” he said.

  Julia spotted Annie in the back of the paramedi
c van and flashed her assistant public defender badge at the uniformed cop. “I’m Annie Rose Graceland’s attorney.” She ran to the back of the van. “No one talks to Annie Graceland without my permission. Got it?” Julia frowned, buttoned her blouse back up and tried to look tough.

  “Absolutely,” Rafe said. “I’ll be back in a few.” He turned and walked towards the spa.

  Annie smiled. “Thanks, Julia. Nice hickey.”

  “Welcome,” Julia said. “I enjoyed getting it.”

  Annie saw Derrick standing next to Julia.

  He smiled at her. “Job well done, my gorgeous empath. I believe our contract has been fulfilled. I’m leaving for the After-Life. Thank you. I will never forget you,” Derrick said. He took her hand, kissed it. Leaned forward and kissed her swollen cheek. “If we met under different circumstances, I know we’d be more than friends,” he said. Derrick turned and walked off in his silver Pucci thong, invisible to almost everyone on the commercial street.

  “Hey, Derrick!” Annie called after him.

  He turned around and smiled at her.

  “Good luck.”

  Derrick winked at Annie. “If you don’t hop aboard the Detective Rafe E-ticket, I might find a way to beat you to it.”

  She flipped him the finger.

  He laughed. “You’re my best Derrick’s Darling, ever,” he said and walked off. He disappeared into the evening fog, the hoards of tourists, the thing that was the beautiful pristine city of Santa Monica, California.

  The next morning, the fog lifted and the sun was high in the sky by the time Annie and Rafe paused at her Victory Gardens. They talked about her tomatoes, sprouting green and leafy with some small yellow flowers that looked like tiny bells. Rafe told her Jennifer was booked and hadn’t made bail yet. He said her tomatoes looked healthy and asked what variety she had planted.