Bottled Up

by K. J. Emrick

  I stand up, sensing the change in the room as the temperature drops by several degrees. “Yes, the note was stolen. I don’t know if we’ll get it back, but we have a picture of what it said. It’s a really good picture. We’ll try to figure out who is doing this so no one else has to… er… get hurt. I promise.”

  “Gone?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “GONE?”

  I take a step toward the door.

  But Mabel wasn’t done.

  Lines of blazing fire rushed across the glass, from left to right, again and again, without forming any recognizable word. It was like Mabel was too upset to know what to say. Or, like she was trying to say too much all at once. The light in the glass swirled, and spread, and spun, collecting in the center until it was too bright to look at.

  Then the mirror shattered.

  It cracked, all of it, all at once, raining fine grains of glass across the sink like powder. The sound of it was like a massive, hollow POP that left my ears thrumming.

  Then there was silence, except for the sound of my own breathing.

  “Mabel? Mabel, are you still here?”

  If she was here she wasn’t talking to me. Then again, without the mirror, maybe she couldn’t talk to me.

  Stepping very carefully across the floor in my bare feet, I went back into my bedroom.

  Just as someone banged against my door.

  My heart leapt up into my throat, and I had to push it back down where it belonged before I could get enough breath to ask, “Who is it?”

  A welcome voice answers back. “It’s me, lover. It’s James.”

  All right. So maybe there’s one thing that went right today.

  “Just a minute! Please God, don’t leave.” I’m still shaken up by what just happened in the bathroom. I’ve already got my shirt pulled on and I’m reaching for my pants before I remember James has seen me in a lot less than this. No need to cover up for the guy who’s so good with me in bed. “Um, are you alone out there?”

  “Were you expecting someone else?”

  I laugh, and I love the fact that he can always get me feeling better no matter how scared or upset I am. Opening the door, I reach out and grab his hand, and pull him inside before any of the guests can pick that particular moment to step out of their rooms and see my gorgeous, naked legs.

  His eyes light up as they slide down below my waistline. “Ya know, if this was how ya greeted me every time I came to your door, I’d be over here every day.”

  I smile at him and slam the door shut before tucking myself in close, up against his shoulder, with my arms around his sides. “You’re here almost every day as it is. Maybe it’s time to have another talk about moving in together?”

  “We could certainly do that. Or, we could talk about why that other crank of a reporter is trying to poach stories out of my town. Or, why you’re back early. That seems to be a relevant topic of conversation.”

  I push back in his arms, looking up into his face, trying to make sense out of what he’s saying. “What are you mean, someone’s poaching your stories? Do you mean Gladys Austin? That crank reporter?”

  “The very same. What’s this?” he asks, fingers touching my throat gently.

  Even his light touch stings against my bruises. “That,” I tell him, “is a reminder from the guy who tried to kill me in my hotel room.”

  “Reminder about what?”

  “That he’s still out there.”

  He hugs me to his body again, holding me tight. “Should’ve called me, Dell Powers.”

  “I came home. I needed you. Needed my Kevin, too, but this… I needed this more.”

  He leads me over to the bed, and sits down with me, his hand resting very comfortably on my knee. “Gladys has tried to scoop stories out from under me more’n once, but I never suspected that she’d have help from my girl.”

  “What, me?” He nods, telling me that he’s serious. “James, I haven’t seen or heard from that woman in forever. She’s after your job, plain and simple, and I would never help her career at the expense of yours.”

  He looks skeptical, and his fingers stop playing with my skin. “Then how d’ya explain it?”

  “Explain what? James, what happened?”

  “Explain this to me, then. Why’d my boss call me just now, wanting to know why Gladys Austin has a story on an old note found in a bottle by two women down in Blue Laguna. Why don’t I have the story, my boss asks me, and ya know what? I’ve got no answer for him. Got no idea about any note from 1937, or about a hidden treasure the writer of the note supposedly hid on some island off the coast. Got no idea about a police report down in Blue Laguna, either.”

  Oh. Now I’m starting to get it. Someone told him about what’s been happening.

  “Know what I do know about?” he continues, tapping out each point with a finger on my thigh. “I happen to know that my very own girlfriend just went down to Blue Laguna. With a friend. I know they came back early. Know my girl’s got a way of getting into trouble, too. So, I’m starting to think to myself that maybe it was one Dell Powers and her friend what found that bottle, and that note, and that for some reason I can’t even begin to understand, the two of ya decided to go off and tell Gladys about it, instead of me.”

  “James! I would never…” I press my hands to my forehead and fall backward onto the bed. “This just keeps getting worse. I knew I should’ve called you as soon as I got home.”

  “That would’ve helped, no doubt.”

  He lays down with me, his head propped up on one hand. “So explain it to me. I’m a reporter. I like to get all the facts before I make up my mind.”

  So I told him the story, starting with the walk on the beach, and leaving nothing out. Except the parts about Mabel’s ghost following me here and destroying the bathroom mirror. Kevin knows all about my abilities, soup to nuts. James… isn’t quite ready for that part of my life yet. Just hope he doesn’t look in the other room.

  He’s a very good listener. That’s something that I’ve always liked about him. It’s something I’m really glad for right now. Hearing myself talk it through put it in a clearer picture now, even more so than when I talked it out with my Kevin. Looking at it now with the benefit of hindsight I can even see all the ways that Jasmine could have done exactly what I’m afraid she did.

  Especially since there’s only one person who could have gone to Gladys Austin with this story. Someone went to that stuck up reporter… and it wasn’t me.

  That only left one person.

  “It has to be Jasmine who gave her the story,” I tell James, after he’s up to speed on everything else that’s happened to me since yesterday. The words felt like ashes in my mouth. Like I was betraying a good friend. “I’m sorry, James, I never thought she would be capable of any of this. She must’ve given the note to Gladys. She must’ve paid someone to steal it for her from the car and then bring it to her when she slipped out the back of the Inn. She planned this whole thing out. She hasn’t been back since.”

  His hand lays across my belly, a gentle reminder that no matter how mad he gets, our love will always be more important than his job. “I’m sorry about yer friend, Dell. I’m sorry for all the rest of it, too. So. How’s about the two of us go and do something about it?”

  I sit up, catching his hand before it can fall anywhere too interesting. “What are we supposed to do about it? If Jasmine already gave up the note, it’s a little too late for us to put that genie back in its bottle, don’t you think?”

  “Oh, ye of little faith. Trust in yer boyfriend. I know what I’m doing.”

  He leans into me, and his lips find mine, and in that moment, I could believe that this man could do anything.

  After we were both dressed again—yes, you heard me right—we went down to tell Rosie I was going to step out for the rest of the evening. Somehow, it had gotten to be after five o’clock. She had dinner well in hand, and Danni was there now to watch the front desk, and the place was
running like a Swiss timepiece. Nobody was gonna miss me for a bit.

  The smells from Rosie’s kitchen made my stomach growl. Missed lunch, now I’ve got to miss dinner. All I had time to do was snag a roll and wolf it down on the way out.

  We took James’ car on our drive, partly because he knew where we were going and I didn’t, and partly because I don’t own my own car. The Inn maintains a vehicle for use by the staff and I use that one whenever I need to go further than the town line. We loan it to guests too, if they sign all the proper paperwork. For the most part I get everywhere I need to go in Lakeshore with my trusty bicycle. Not so convenient when there’s two of you going somewhere, like me and James are.

  As it turned out, my bike could’ve gotten me here just fine. The Thirsty Roo is within walking distance of the Pine Lake Inn.

  The Roo is the place to hang out in town if you want a good coldie, and good company, and maybe a steak sandwich. It’s where our resident celebrity, Alfonse Calico, does impromptu concerts when he’s not out on tour, starting up his singing career again. He did a great thing for our town, buying the Roo and breathing new life into it. Now that his star is on the rise again he’s passed most of the day to day stuff on to a new business partner. Dane Rawlins. I like the guy well enough, he’s just never around when you need him.

  James parks the car in front of the tavern, on the street, and together we get out and go over to the swinging saloon-style doors at the front entrance. The inner doors have been closed, too, because it really has dropped in temperature out here. The saloon doors had always been for decoration, anyway. Makes people think they’re in an old Spaghetti Western, or something.

  “How did you know Jasmine and Gladys Austin are here?” I ask James.

  “I’ve got contacts all over town,” he explains. “Whole place is wired. Nobody sneezes, I don’t know about it.”

  “Oh? Is that so?” I say, one eyebrow lifting up. “That’s kind of an odd thing to keep track of, don’t you think?”

  “Hey. Ya never know when the next bird flu’s gonna hit Australia. Maybe next year we can get another strain of it named after our country. Wouldn’t that just be grand?”

  “Let’s hope not.” That whole ‘Australian Flu’ thing was a bad memory for a lot of us. “All right. So, what’s the plan?”

  “What the plan always is. Make the liars tell the truth.”

  “Good plan.” A little light on details, maybe, but it was definitely the right idea.

  Inside, the Roo is brightly lit with overhead chandeliers shaped like wagon wheels. The serving bar dominates one side, and the rest of the space is peppered with little round tables draped with red and white chequered cloths. This time of day, on a Saturday, there’s hardly anyone in here. Just a few old coots at the bar, drinking to their favorite memories, plus the two people we’re looking for. Jasmine and Gladys Austin are sitting at the table furthest from the entrance.

  Drew Norstrom’s at the bar, serving drinks and cleaning glasses to get ready for the crowd that will come in closer to eleven tonight, just like always. He waves to me, and I wave back, but he can tell we’re not here for a friendly visit. His gaze travels from us to the table we’re headed for, and suddenly he’s more interested than ever in polishing those glasses.

  It isn’t until we’re almost at their table that Jasmine and Gladys Austin look up at us. Jasmine, at least, has the good decency to look embarrassed by what she’s doing. The expression on Gladys’s face, on the other hand, is something close to triumphant.

  “Well, well, well,” she crows, her eyes narrowed and focused on James. “Looks like somebody got to the story late. What’s the matter, James? Don’t have this town as sewn up as ya thought?”

  There’s some people in life that you just take an instant disliking to, no matter how much they smile and put on a pretty face. It was like for me with Gladys the very first time I met her. Nothing’s changed from then to now. Haven’t seen her much around Lakeshore recently, but she’s kind of like a barracuda. Once they smell blood in the water, they start circling.

  The woman is in a tight black dress and flats. Her dark brown hair is highlighted with honey blonde streaks that were probably just as expensive as they look. With her jacket hanging off the back of the chair behind her, it’s easy to be impressed with her perfect measurements. I mean, for someone else, it would be.

  Her puffy lips form a smirk. She’s one of those women who might not be pretty, but she sure looks that way.

  Jasmine tips her head forward, letting strands of her long hair fall forward to hide her eyes. She knows I’m mad. Not that there’s any trick to that. At this point Helen Keller would be able to tell I’m upset.

  Before I can say anything I’d regret later on, James takes over the conversation. He takes the seat next to Gladys, returning her smirk with one of his own. “This isn’t just bad form. I can get ya barred from every news outlet between New Zealand and here for something like this.”

  “Something like what?” Gladys asks smugly. “All I’m doing is following up on a lead. I dare ya to prove different.”

  In a frosty voice much colder than the air outside, I point out, “Your lead rightly belongs to me.”

  Jasmine actually flinches when she hears me say that, and she finally looks up. “Dell, I’m sorry. Truly, I am. I just thought—”

  “You’re sorry?” I cut her off. Of all the things she could’ve said to me just then to make things better, that wasn’t one of them. “You’re sorry? You think that makes things better, somehow? I almost got killed, Jasmine. That man had his hands around my throat. Look at these marks!”

  Gladys practically beams when I point out the bruises on my throat. She grabs a napkin from the dispenser on the table and starts busily jotting down notes for her story about everything I’m saying. Well, that’s just fantastic.

  “Dell, really,” Jasmine says in a rush, “let me explain.”

  I ignore her, and I ignore Gladys and her hen scratch, too. “He was going to kill me! And then, when we make it safe back here to Lakeshore and we have a chance to figure things out with my son, you go and ruin that, too!”

  “I know, I know all of that.” She reaches out her hands to me, pleading with me to understand whatever lame excuse is going to come out of her mouth now. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to make some cash off all of this. That job I told you about at the accounting office? Yeah. I got canned two weeks back. I’m desperate, Dell. I need that money. So I sold the story to Gladys here. So what? I knew you would give it to your boyfriend there for nothing. He’s a reporter, Gladys is a reporter… so what? Only difference is Gladys is willing to pay. So I took my chance to make good on it. I was gonna share, honest.”

  “You think that makes it better?” I have to clench my hands at my sides to keep them from trying to slap sense into her. “Jasmine, how could you do this to me?”

  At the table, sitting there like a cat in the middle of a field full of juicy mice, Gladys is digesting every little bit of our conversation, enjoying every morsel, sating herself on tidbits that would form the basics of her story. A story that would feature yours truly once again, and Lakeshore as well. Only this time, I had no say in the matter.

  “This isn’t fair,” I tell Jasmine. “You know this isn’t fair. I found that note. It was mine to do whatever I wanted with. Keep it, sell it, give it away to the museum or… or… burn it to ash if I wanted to! You had no right. None!”

  Sitting back in her chair, she finally meets my gaze directly, daring me to tell her she’s wrong. “You were going to squander this chance. This is part of Tasmania’s history, Dell. That means it’s worth something to the right people. Gladys is the right people.”

  “Debatable,” James grumbles.

  “Don’t be a total dag,” Gladys smirks. She’s holding all the cards, and she knows it.

  I’ve had enough of this. The more Jasmine tries to explain herself, the angrier I’m getting. The more Gladys smiles and preens, the more
I want to shove her face in the nearest mud puddle to make her outsides just as dirty as the rest of her. To think that Jasmine could do this to me, after being my friend for so long, just about set my brain on fire. We were done, me and her. I was going to enjoy watching my Kevin arrest her and put her away for a long, long time, and after that I was never going to talk to her again. Not ever. I want her out of my life, and I want to forget that any of this ever happened.

  But first, we needed answers. More than that, I want the note back that started this whole mess.

  When I thrust my hand out to her, palm up, I get the pleasure of seeing her flinch. “I’m not gonna hurt you,” I tell her. “Not like that guy you let into our hotel room was gonna hurt me. I’m not like that, Jasmine. I just want my note back. The police will deal with the rest of it.”

  “The police? Dell, what’re you… wait a tick. Are you asking me for the note?”

  “Yes. I am. It’s mine, and I want it back. Right now.”

  The way she’s looking at me, you’d think I was speaking in a foreign language. “Dell…”

  “Just give it to me. Or do I have to add a charge of stealing to what you’re gonna be arrested for?”

  “No, Dell… I mean, I don’t have the note. It’s in the glove box in the car, right where we left it. Isn’t it? Oh, nuts. Oh nuts, oh nuts, oh nuts. Isn’t it right there in the glove box?”

  “No, Jasmine, it’s not right there in the glove box.” Anger surged up in me again, because I don’t have time for this. “No more lies. I can’t take it. Not from someone I considered a friend. The note got taken out of your car, which you already know, because you had to give someone a spare key to get at it. So. Give it back, right now.”

  “What!” she exclaims. “Dell, I didn’t do that. You mean it’s gone? No, tell me you aren’t serious.”

  I have to admit, this is an amazing performance that she’s putting on for us. I could almost believe her.

  “You had someone take the note while we were inside the Pine Lake Inn,” I tell her flatly, stating the obvious. “I had your key, but you must’ve had a spare. You’re here to sell it, aren’t you?”