by Cindy Brown
I stopped walking, partly because I needed to consider this new information, and partly because I’d reached my car, which had a parking ticket tucked under its wiper blades. Yikes—seventy-two dollars, fifty-two if I paid it early. I wondered if the police would waive it since they were the reason I hadn’t been able to move my truck or plug the meter.
Probably not. I left the ticket where it was and walked down toward the theater. If I was going to pay over fifty dollars for parking, I might as well stay there all day.
I resumed my stroll to the theater. Now: Candy. The old Candy would’ve never killed anyone. She might’ve accidentally harmed someone, but even then, I’m pretty sure she would have called the police right away. And she would’ve never worried me or Arrestadt this way. The new Candy, though...how well did I know her? Could the diet pills have impaired her judgment? After all, she did disappear without telling anyone where she was. But she’d still need a motive, right? Why would Candy kill the woman who was going to make her a star?
My feet (and my subconscious) had brought me to Candy’s hotel. Maybe she’d gone back there. Even if she was in hiding, there might be a clue that would lead me to her. I went into the hotel and walked up to the front desk, where I tried my luck with a new clerk, a woman this time. I asked if she had seen Candy, showing her a new photo I’d taken off the internet, since the one in Mexico didn’t look like my friend anymore. The desk clerk didn’t respond at all. She didn’t even look up from her computer.
“Oh, wait.” I grabbed a fifty from my ghost photo stash and placed it on the counter. “How about now?”
The woman, who had curly hair just beginning to gray, grabbed the money, her eyes still on her computer screen.
“No,” she said, sliding the bill into a pocket on her blazer.
“No, what?”
“No, I haven’t seen her.”
“That’s all? That’s all I get for fifty dollars?”
She looked up at me then. And smiled.
I showed Candy’s photo around in the lobby and in the bar, but no one admitted to having seen her.
I took the elevator up to her room. Don’t know what I was hoping to find—maybe a room-service tray outside her door? But of course there was nothing. I put my eye to the peephole. I didn’t think I’d be able to see anything, but then again, I’d never tried, so...
“What are you doing?”
I turned around to see a maid—slim, Hispanic, beautiful but looked like she was trying to hide it, with no makeup and hair scraped back into a tight ponytail.
“Um, I’m looking for Candace Moon.”
“So is everyone.” She spoke with a heavy Mexican accent.
“Have you seen her?”
“If I had, why would I tell you?”
She didn’t say no. Maybe she knew something. I pulled my stash of cash out of my purse. The maid frowned and motioned for me to put it away. Nice that not everyone was on the take. “You should tell me because I’m worried about her,” I said.
“Everyone else says so too.”
“But I’m not everyone else. And I’m not a journalist, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m...” Which answer would get me more info, the fact that I was almost a PI, Candy’s best friend, or her understudy who was going to have to go on her place?
“The reporters, I hear they are looking for her sister,” said the maid.
That would work. “Shhh,” I said. “Don’t tell anyone it’s me. I don’t want my photo all over the internet.”
The maid pursed her lips. “You do not look like her.”
I pulled up our Mexico photo on my phone and showed it to her. “See? Sisters. Just different fathers.” And to distract her and add fuel to my investigative fire, I said, “And well, we had a fight right before she disappeared, so...”
“You feel guilty.”
“Yes.” Interesting how truths come out in the middle of lies.
“What did you fight about?”
“She wasn’t being straight with me. She stopped telling me things, important things, and I got mad.”
“Why did she stop? When?”
“Um...right about time I started dating her old boyfriend.”
“Dios mio,” she said. “You are a bad sister.”
“No, I’m not. She broke up with him.”
“And then you broke her heart.”
Chapter 48
Such Were the Cruel Thoughts
“Did I break Candy’s heart? By falling in love with you?” I asked Matt several hours later.
“No.” He reached across the table at Seamus McCaffrey’s and took both my hands in his. “Candy and I, well, we were really over a few months before she broke up with me to go to LA. I think she wanted to love me, but her heart wasn’t with me anymore.”
“What about you? Did you still love her?”
“For a while. But it was getting harder and harder to do, since she was pulling away. By the time she left for California, I was sad, but a little relieved too.”
I squeezed Matt’s hands. I felt sad and relieved too. Mostly relieved.
Matt looked over my shoulder and waved. “Over here.”
It was Cody and Sarah coming in the door, joining us for dinner before the show. Well, they were having dinner. I was having my cold-fighting concoction of chicken broth and garlic, which I’d snuck into the restaurant in a thermos. Matt got up and changed places in the booth, so he was sitting next to me, and Cody and Sarah slid onto the seat across from us. They were both dressed up for the play. Cody wore a newish version of his favorite chambray shirt (it made his eyes look so blue), and Sarah had pinned up her dark curly hair. She touched her sparkly earrings self-consciously.
“Pretty earrings,” I said. “Are they new?”
“I gave them to her.” Cody had a big smile on his face. “For Valentine’s Day.”
“Oh no.” Matt looked at me. “Did I miss Valentine’s Day? How could I miss Valentine’s Day?”
“You’re okay,” I said. “Valentine’s Day isn’t until Saturday.”
“Is it too late to make reservations somewhere?”
“Probably. But it doesn’t matter. I have to work anyway. We can celebrate later.”
“Cody has to work too,” said Sarah. “That’s why we celebrated early.”
“I have to be at Safeway during the day.” Cody sat up straight and proud. “And I might have an audition later. For modeling.”
“Really? On a Saturday night?” Matt elbowed me under the table, but I went on. “That’d be weird.”
Matt nudged me again, harder. “This modeling thing sounds pretty exciting, Cody,” he said.
I knew what Matt was getting at: Cody was just excited about this new opportunity and was probably exaggerating about the audition because he wanted to talk about it. Still, that didn’t stop me. “What’s the name of this modeling company, anyway?”
“Essence Talent,” Cody said.
“Essence Talent? Never heard of them. They have Saturday-night auditions? You sure they’re not looking at you for bachelorette parties, or—”
“Ivy,” said Matt.
“Why are you being so mean?” Cody’s face was red.
“I’m not,” I said.
“You kind of are,” said Sarah.
“I’m sorry. It was meant to be a joke.” Was it? “I’m just worried about you, Cody.”
“It seems mean,” he said. “You frown and yell—”
“I do not,” I began, but Sarah nodded her head.
“You were raising your voice,” Matt said quietly.
“And you make me feel like I’m stupid when I’m not,” Cody finished.
I stopped. Cody was right. And I had the sneaking suspicion I’d been mean to Candy too.
Chapter 49
No Longer Mistr
ess of Myself
I apologized, but even so, Cody ate his hamburger in silence. I tried to explain that I’d had a rough week, what with Candy’s disappearance, Babette’s death, and having to go onstage tonight with not enough rehearsal and a stuffed-up head (I still had hope for my broth concoction, but it hadn’t worked yet). Even as I said all that to my brother, I could sense an undercurrent of anxiety: I wasn’t happy about Cody’s new modeling career. Pretty sure he sensed it too, since he wouldn’t make eye contact and kept stabbing his french fries into the ketchup on his plate. I think he would have walked out on me if Sarah and Matt hadn’t been there. I was relieved to get to the theater.
I’d just finished my makeup and had stripped down to my underwear when Eden walked into my dressing room, carrying a roll of tan duct tape in one hand and jar of coconut oil in the other. “I noticed you were wearing a bra during rehearsal yesterday.”
“Yeah?”
“It shows too much under your costume.” Glinda’s mini dress was cut low in the front. I’d worn a nude bra, but I guessed it wasn’t nude enough.
“Dang. Do you want me to go without?” Though I wasn’t especially big-busted, I really didn’t like going braless on stage. I’d rather be perky than floppy.
“Candace did, but she had hardly anything on top anymore. I think you need a little definition, so…” She held up the roll of tape. “Duct tape to the rescue. You want some help?”
“Please.” I took off my bra and turned to face her, away from the mirror. “And did you know that duct tape’s real name is duck tape?” Eden shook her head, put the jar of coconut oil on the counter, and tore off a long strip of tape, which she anchored under one of my breasts. She pulled the tape up along the side of my breast and over my shoulder. “My Uncle Bob told me it was first used in World War II to keep ammo dry.” Eden taped another strip next to the first one, but on the inside so it just covered my nipple. “It worked really well, ‘like water off a duck’s back,’ so, duck tape.” Eden taped up the other breast. And now that I had greased the conversation with small talk, I said, “Can’t believe it about Babette.”
“I can.” Eden pushed one breast up and toward the center of my chest and ran a shorter piece of tape underneath it. “I think that bad people often come to bad ends.”
“I hear they think it was murder, and that it had to be someone close to her.”
Eden nodded and taped my other breast front and center.
“Do you think…” I needed to word this carefully. “Do you think Candy’s disappearance could have anything to do with Babette?”
Eden pulled in her lips, like she was thinking. “I can’t think of any obvious connection between Candace and Babette’s death, but I do think Babette may have had something to do with her disappearance. And the police did question me about Candace.”
My heart sank. I’d hoped the police had only talked to me about Candy because someone told them we were friends.
Eden eyed my cleavage, rearranged the tape, then said, “You’re good to go.” She motioned to the jar of coconut oil on the counter. “You can just rub this over the tape and onto your skin. It all comes off pretty easily.”
I turned to face the mirror. “Wow.” The tan duck tape ran underneath my breasts and up their sides, covering everything that needed covering, with an added benefit. Not only was I perky and in place, I looked like I’d had a boob job.
“You look great,” said Eden. “For now.”
“For now?”
“Yeah. You lose too much weight…” My stomach growled. Traitor. “And you’ll end up boob-less, like Candace.”
My stomach would not stop growling. Guess broth didn’t fill me up. It did make me have to pee, however, so I was nearly late for my first entrance. I didn’t make the same mistake for my second entrance. Nope, I made the mistake of not using the bathroom that time, so by the time I heard the musical intro to my song, I really had to go. Instead, I popped out of my bubble as gracefully as I could and gave it all I had. “I am spacey, oh so spacey. Yes, I’m spacey but pretty and nice.” My song made absolutely no sense to The Wizard’s plot line, but hadn’t been cut from the show due to popular demand (the song itself wasn’t really popular, but it had been made into the soundtrack for a viral video featuring sleepy kittens). “Plus I’m racy.” I tore off my long white chiffon skirt to reveal a Star-Trek-era miniskirt underneath. “And, no, vanity is not a vice.”
“La, la, la, la, luh, la, la, la,” sang the munchkins.
Oh no. I had to sneeze. And pee. Not a good combo.
“I feel groovy, oh so groovy, like a movie with Elvis Presley,” I sang.
Look at a light, I told myself. Look at a light, look at a light. Wow, they were bright.
“And so spacey...” I sang. I turned away from the stage lights, but now all I could see was a big spot in front of my eyes.
“Ow!” squealed a munchkin. Guess that squishy thing I felt underneath my go-go boot was his foot.
“Ack!” I said as I fell over him onto the throng of munchkins. Then, “Afloey!”
At least I didn’t pee on anyone.
Chapter 50
Wailing and Gnashing Of Teeth, Indeed
Nobody said anything to me after the show. Even Vincent the pervy munchkin avoided me. No one said a word until Matt came to pick me up at the stage door, where I was waiting with a small group of the other actors. “Well,” he said, “look on the bright side. No one’s going forget that performance any time soon.”
I burst into tears.
“Oh no.” He put his arms around me.
“That’s why none of us said anything,” Eden said to him in a stage whisper. “There’s nothing you can say that’d make it okay. Just take her home and tuck her into bed.”
“Will do.” Matt gently pulled me away from his chest. It was a good thing he loved me, because his shoulder was now covered in stage makeup, tears, and probably a little snot. He hustled me into the front seat of his car. “I’ll drop you at your car, take Cody and Sarah home,” —they were in the backseat—“then I’ll come back by your place. Okay?”
I nodded. There was a tap on my window. Madison. I rolled down the window. She held Toto up to the open window, and he leaned in and licked my face.
I felt better.
Until I got to my parking space.
“Where’s your truck?” asked Cody.
“Arghh,” I said. “I thought...arghh.” I curled up in a ball, as much as I could with a seatbelt on.
“It’s okay,” said Matt. “I’ll drive you home tonight, and we can go by the tow yard and get it tomorrow.”
“You can get off work? On a Friday?”
“Crap, I was thinking tonight was Friday night. Probably because we saw your show.”
“I can Uber over there tomorrow. Wherever there is.” I groaned, thinking of the work it would take to find my pickup and then get to the tow yard. “How much do you think it will cost?”
“I don’t know,” said Matt. “A couple hundred?”
“Argh. Aflooey! Aah,” I wailed. “Worst day ever.”
“It’s not so bad.” My wonderfully forgiving brother patted me on the shoulder. “At least you have us.”
Matt did tuck me in bed, but left afterward. Probably had his fill of snot on his shoulder. When my phone woke me the next morning, I figured it was him and picked up without opening my eyes.
“I’m worried about Cody,” said a soft voice. Sarah. I was instantly awake. My feet hit the floor and I was up and out of the bedroom.
“Glugh?” I said.
Well, parts of me were awake. Other parts struggled mightily before ten a.m. I padded to the kitchen to put on water for coffee.
“Is he okay?” As I said it, I realized that I wasn’t. Okay, that is. My head felt like one of those prize-winning hundred-pound pumpkins. But it didn’t
matter. What did matter was Cody.
“Yeah,” she said. “But...I feel like I’m tattling.”
“Do you think I need to know what you’re going to say?” I asked. “That it might help Cody?”
“Yeah.” She sighed. “I guess so. He came by my apartment this morning on his way to work.” Sarah also had a cognitive disability, but she lived in an apartment with a roommate. A caseworker checked on them regularly, but it was a more independent level of living than Cody’s group home. “He asked me to teach him how to write a check.”
Cody had a bank account. His paychecks from his part-time job at Safeway were directly deposited, as were his SSDI (Social Security Disability) checks. I handled all of Cody’s money, but about a year ago I added him as a signer on the checking account. After all, he was an adult, and a responsible one. He sometimes took out cash for a new video game or a date with Sarah, but I guess he’d never written a check before. “It’s okay for Cody to write a check,” I said. “It’s his money.”
“But,” said Sarah, “this was a really big check.”
Chapter 51
The Lowest of the Low
Fueled by anger and several cups of coffee, I walked my big ol’ pumpkin head the few blocks from my apartment to Camelback and Central Ave and caught the light rail. About fifteen minutes later, I flung open the glass doors to Essence Talent Agency as wide as I could, strode past the surprised receptionist, and into the office of “agent” Jay Thompson. Nothing says “pissed off” like a dramatic entrance.
“You scammed my brother,” I said to the smug son of a bitch sitting behind a polished ebony desk. I was spitting mad. I hoped I was literally—I would have liked to have sprayed the sucker. “My cognitively disabled brother, you ass—”
“What are you talking about?” Jay took his feet off his desk, which looked like something from Darth Vader’s decorator. “Who are you talking about?”