The Cherry Pages

by Gary Ruffin

  A young man had brought my bags over to me on a cart, and I began checking them while Joe Don was telling his tale. I said, “That has got to be the lousiest way to retire from football that I can imagine.”

  Neal said, “Well, the NFL’s loss is my gain. Joe Don’s gonna be an All-American private investigator, no doubt about it.”

  Joe said, “Thanks, boss. I really appreciate that.”

  After an awkward silence, Neal said, “Okay. Are we ’bout ready to blow this pop stand?”

  “Ready and waitin’,” I said. “Where we headed first?”

  Neal replied, “Straight to the Ritz-Carlton Buckhead, which, according to this map, is only five or six miles from here. Ms. Page should be checked in by the time we get there; her plane landed an hour ago. By the way, you two will be stayin’ in the same suite. Think you can handle that?”

  “Same suite, hunh? I’ll learn to live with it. Dirty job, et cetera. Say, should I address you as ‘boss,’ too? Or maybe ‘master’? I know: ‘King Neal the First.’”

  Neal said, “Hmmm. I like ‘King Neal’ a lot. Tell you what, you can just refer to me as ‘Your Highness.’”

  “Fine,” I said. “Okay, ‘Your Heinous,’ let’s get outta here.”

  4

  Watching Marianne from a corner table in the restaurant last night, it was easy to see she was right for the starring role in a little performance piece. Slightly taller, but her body is similar to that of the slut Cherry Page. Her hair isn’t red, but that would be easily fixed.

  Marianne handled her hostess duties flawlessly, and it had been easy to find out she was interested in computers and had recently purchased a new Dell. The flat-screen monitor had cost a little more than she really needed to spend, but what the heck. A girl has to spoil herself once in a while, right? Marianne moved easily around the restaurant, taking drink orders, and laughing with the customers. She was quite popular with the male customers, and more than one followed her with his eyes as she made her rounds in the tight little miniskirt. Wonder how differently she might have acted had she known it was the last night she’d be seen at work.

  And now, less than twenty-four hours later, standing in the backyard of Marianne’s Little Five Points home, watching through the bathroom window as she enters the shower. Hearing only the intermittent noise of the light traffic in the quiet neighborhood, waiting and watching the shower’s steam clouding the window. Less than fifteen minutes later, the loud whine of a hair dryer, the perfect cover.

  Marianne doesn’t hear the pane of glass break and fall to the floor in the kitchen, nor does she see the gloved hand reach through and unlock the door. The other requirement is in plain sight: the new computer. Already online, no need to boot up. How nice of the pretty little bitch to make the job easier.

  Down the carpeted hallway to the bathroom door, hearing the dryer blasting away, finding the door ajar. Yet more gifts from Baal! This is even easier than dispatching the faggot florist, who didn’t try to fight back because he-she was pulling his-her dress over his-her head and couldn’t see. Don’t laugh at the memory!

  The large hunting knife coming out of its sheath like a snake; a snake prepared to strike once more for the divine cause. That awesome feeling coming on again, one of ultimate supremacy and righteousness. Knowing that the Powers would reward this devoted disciple very soon. And the reward would be everlasting. Not to mention extremely lucrative.

  The hair dryer suddenly no longer whining, and only Marianne’s out-of-tune humming breaking the silence.

  Two more steps to the bathroom door. A quick shove, and into the steam the knife slices its way, finding the target vulnerable. But it’s not yet time for her to die. That will come later. Now is the time to terrify her into submission, to restrain, drug, gag, and blindfold her for transport. That done, the computer sits waiting in the living room, ready to send another message to The One.

  Tomorrow, a message of another kind.

  5

  CHERRY PAGE WAS DRIVEN TO THE LOADING DOCK ENTRANCE AT THE back of the Ritz-Carlton Buckhead because crowds of screaming fans had somehow found out she would be staying there while in Atlanta. The two guest entrances were impassable due to the crowds, so the limo pulled into the delivery entrance, which lay below ground level.

  As they got out of the car and walked towards the employees’ entrance, Cherry’s petite assistant, Sally Allen, apologized for the stench of the food that was rotting in the Dumpsters by the loading dock.

  Pulling her carry-on bag up on her shoulder, Cherry laughed and said, “A little rotten food doesn’t bother me in the least. The only bad thing is that it reminds me of my futile attempts at cooking.”

  The manager of the Ritz met them at the employees’ entrance and welcomed them to the hotel, holding on to Cherry’s hand a little too long when she offered it to him to shake. As they made their way through the bowels of the hotel, the employees who could speak English smiled and said welcome to Atlanta and the Ritz, and how much they loved her work. The others simply smiled and nodded. Cherry smiled in return, shook a few more hands, and stepped into the freight elevator that would take them to the back kitchen area of the ballrooms on the first floor.

  After they finally made it to the lobby elevators that would take them to their rooms, Cherry said to Sally, in her London accent, “I hope this bodyguard turns out to be someone with whom I can have an intelligent conversation. I’d truly hate being stuck with a disagreeable type, especially for such a length of time as it takes to shoot a film.”

  Sally replied, in her equally British tone, “Mr. Feagin assured me that you will get on brilliantly with Mr.—let me check my notes—‘Mr. Samuel Cooper, chief of police, Gulf Front, Florida.’ He also said Chief Cooper is highly qualified, having been a police officer for over twenty years, and a homicide detective as well. Mr. Feagin added that Mrs. Feagin adores Chief Cooper, and the three Feagin daughters regard him as they would a beloved family member. From the way he spoke of the man, I don’t foresee any problems whatsoever.”

  “Well, that’s nice to hear. It surely sounds as if we’ll make a good match. I feel much better knowing that he’s held in such high esteem by the women in Mr. Feagin’s life.”

  The elevator opened, and they made their way down the hall to Cherry’s suite. A policeman was standing guard by her door, and the women thanked him after he showed his identification and introduced himself.

  He said, “I’ll be right here, Ms. Page, until your bodyguard arrives. Feel free to relax in your room. I assure you you’re in good hands.”

  “Thank you so much, Officer,” Cherry said, and Sally opened the door with Cherry’s key-card. They stepped into the suite, and Cherry carefully placed her bag on the carpet and then ran over and fell back on the sofa in the parlor like a thirteen-year-old.

  Chuckling at her employer, Sally said, “The remainder of your luggage will be here shortly. Now that you’re safe and sound, I’m going to retire for the evening. I’ve been running around all day like a madwoman, and tomorrow will be here much too soon, in my estimation. I’m just down the hall in 512, and Chuck, Lynne, and Lawrence are all on this floor as well. The crew are staying in a motel near the college where you’ll be doing most of the location work. You’re to be at the little theater the studio’s rented for rehearsals at eight. The college has a theater, but they’re in the middle of a production at the moment, so we can’t use it. Let’s see. That should cover everything for now. Come morning, we can breakfast here in your suite, and you and Mr. Cooper can go on over to the rented theater. How does that sound?”

  “That sounds divine, dear. Thank you so much for taking such good care of me. You know it means the world to me.”

  “And you know it’s my pleasure. Now, get your beauty sleep, not that you have need for it. Night-night.”

  “Night-night, Sally.”

  When Sally closed the door behind her on her way out, Cherry reached for the hotel phone and ordered steak and eggs with a pot
of hot tea and a bottle of ketchup. Although it was only a little after seven in the evening in Atlanta, she was still on London time, and she often had a midnight supper. When she wasn’t working, her usual bedtime was three or four in the morning, but she always found it easy to adjust her schedule once she was back on a film set.

  The bag she’d brought up from the car contained her laptop, and she took it out and set it on the coffee table in the middle of the room. She turned it on and as she waited for it to boot, went into the bathroom and washed her hands.

  When she came back, the message box was there on the screen.

  This time, not_so_shy_guy2 had written: You are so close, I can feel you. Baal will soon be appeased as he accepts the Perfect Sacrifice. I say to you, Only One: soon your Spirit will be free.

  6

  JOE DON DROVE WITH NEAL UP FRONT, AND I SAT IN THE BACK AS WE left the airport, headed for the Ritz in Buckhead. We’d been talking about football and fishing for a couple of minutes, when Neal’s cell rang. It was an Atlanta police officer calling to say that Cherry had arrived, and that she’d been brought in through the back of the hotel due to the large crowds at both entrances. She’d made it upstairs without any problems, and was in her suite.

  Neal hung up, and said to me, “Looks like you’ll be on duty from the minute you get there, Coop. You ready to start guardin’ that famous body and solving this case?”

  “Well, I hoped to get a good night’s sleep before the battle begins,” I said. “Guess I’ll just hafta sleep on the job, like always.”

  Neal chuckled, and replied, “Now wait a minute, here. You’re representing Feagin Investigations, and this could make or break my business. You can’t just sleep through the—wait, that’s not quite right—I have a rich wife—never mind. Just don’t get your tail shot off while you’re sleepin’ on the job. But seriously, folks, do you have any thoughts on where to begin with this freak that’s threatening her?”

  “Yeah, I had a thought on the plane: maybe this is coming from the inside. Maybe a studio employee who has a beef with her, or somebody that she trusts, like a makeup person or a driver or whatever. There must be studio types who came to Atlanta early, to do whatever it is they do before work starts on the movie. I think you oughta start tracing the backgrounds of her associates, Mr. Feagin, P.I. Besides, what else is a gimp like you gonna do while I’m out there on the front lines, puttin’ my rear end in jeopardy?”

  Neal said, “I had the same thought. We definitely need to check out the entourage and the studio people. Agent Carver—you’ll meet him soon, I hope—has agreed to give me access to some of the FBI’s resources, and seems like a good guy. I’ll get on that as soon as we get to Buckhead. My office is right across the street from the Ritz, so I’ll burn the midnight oil while you luxuriate in the presence of a world-class beauty. In the Ritz-Carlton. In a suite with anything you want at your disposal, on command. I’ll tell you one thing, you owe me big-time for this experience, bud. In fact, I don’t know if you’ll ever be able to make it up to me. Hey, that reminds me. How are you gonna make it up to Penny? I wish I coulda been there to hear the explosion when you told her what you’re gonna be doin’ up here in the Big City.”

  “Actually, she was fine with it. I guess she trusts me to do the right thing,” I said, heavily editing her reaction. “She even wants me to bring Cherry down to Gulf so they can meet. I really think that Penny has outgrown being so jealous about me. Maybe she realizes how lucky she is to have me.”

  This got a snort from Neal, and he said, “Yeah, maybe you’re right, bud. Then again, maybe you’ve finally succeeded in driving her crazy.”

  “That’s probably it,” I said.

  We rode in silence for a few minutes, then Neal said, “I forgot to tell you another great perk of this job: the studio had a Bentley flown in from London for you to use while you’re drivin’ Miss Cherry. A bulletproof Bentley.”

  “You’re kiddin’.”

  “Nope. You’re gonna be in luxury even while you’re in danger.” He sighed and said, “Aaah, the show business. Ya gotta love it.”

  Cherry wasn’t sure how to handle the situation regarding the new instant-messenger threat; should she wait for her bodyguard to arrive, or open her door and notify the police officer immediately? She knew that there was most likely another murder victim somewhere in Atlanta, but also knew that the stalker would be long gone by now. She was still trying to make up her mind when room service knocked on her door, and set up the food on the dining table. She decided to wait for the cavalry to show up and save her; isn’t that what always happened in America?

  The steak was perfectly cooked, and the eggs with ketchup made her feel right at home. The tea was her favorite brand, so she knew that Sally had done her job flawlessly once again, but that was to be expected. Only in England could one get a proper cup of tea, unless of course, one had Sally Allen as a personal assistant.

  Although the food was delicious, Cherry found herself unable to eat more than a few bites. She’d turned her laptop so she couldn’t see the screen, but she knew the sick words were still there.

  She pushed the plate away, walked over to the window, and looked down on the traffic behind the hotel from her fifth-floor perch. The sun was slowly going down, leaving a beautiful pale yellow and blue-gray sunset, and the street area was bathed in a golden glow.

  Still unsure of what to do about the message, she called Sally’s room and asked her what she thought. Sally was no help; she couldn’t make a decision either.

  As Sally was prattling on about the situation, Cherry continued to look out her window at the street below. She noticed a black sedan stop near the rear of the hotel, and watched as a man got out and said good-bye to the occupants. As he walked towards the same back entrance she’d been through less than an hour ago, he looked up and saw her at the window.

  He carried his two suitcases with ease, and she could’ve sworn she saw him smile at her as he gazed upward.

  Cherry broke in on Sally’s long-winded monologue, and said, “Hey, it looks as if the cavalry has arrived. And at least from five stories up, he doesn’t look half bad.”

  7

  I MADE IT UP THE BACK WAY TO THE FRONT DESK, AND FOUND THAT I was already checked in. The clerk gave me a key-card to Cherry’s room, a young bellman took my luggage, and we rode the elevator to the fifth floor.

  He asked, “Are you like, a bodyguard for Miss Page, or somethin’?”

  “Yeah, or somethin’,” I replied. He smiled like a crocodile as he turned back to watch the numbers.

  As we got off the elevator, he said, “Follow me, Mr. Lucky,” and grinned widely again.

  I followed him as he turned the corner and walked towards Room 521, pushing the luggage cart. There was a cop standing in the hall yawning widely. As we approached, a thick head of red hair poked out into the hall, followed by a barefoot body dressed in jeans and a white tee shirt that could only belong to a sex symbol.

  She was shorter than I thought she would be, but what she lacked in height, she made up for in shape. She started to rub her temples as we came within twenty feet of the door, and the look on her face told me she was worried about something.

  The bellman said, “Miss Page, I believe your guardian has arrived.”

  She stopped rubbing her head, and held her hand out for me to shake.

  I took it and shook it, and said, “Hello, Ms. Page, I’m Chief Cooper.”

  “I’m so glad you’re here, you have no idea,” she said dramatically, and I thought, Great, every little thing’s gonna be a crisis with this one.

  The officer introduced himself, and we shook hands. He said, “I’ll say good-bye now,” and headed down the hall to the bank of elevators. The bellman was already in the suite, which left Cherry Page and me standing in the hall, face-to-face.

  “Please, Chief Cooper, do come in,” she said, looking back to see if the bellman was listening. She whispered, “I just received another message from the nut
ter on my laptop. What shall we do?”

  Man, the job was starting with a bang. I whispered back, “As soon as the bellman leaves, I’ll take care of everything. You just take it easy and leave it to me.”

  Under the circumstances, she had a right to be dramatic. In fact, she had a right to be frantic. I decided to reserve judgment on her personality for the time being.

  To bring things down to Earth, I said to the bellman, “This room is bigger than my apartment. Just how big are we talkin’ here?”

  “This is a Ritz-Carlton suite, sir. It’s fourteen hundred and forty square feet.”

  “That’s a lotta feet. Well, thanks for everything,” I said, and motioned with my head for him to go.

  I pulled a ten from my pocket as the bellman was leaving, and put my finger to my lips to silence him before he could crack wise again about my being lucky. He took the bill, smiled, and silently rolled the cart out of the room.

  I closed the door, and said, “Okay, Ms. Page, might as well get right down to it. Let’s have a look at the message.”

  “Call me Cherry. What shall I call you?”

  “Everybody calls me Coop.”

  She frowned, and said, “I don’t want to call you what everyone else does.” She looked thoughtful for a moment, and then said, “I shall call you ‘Cooper.’ That way, you’ll always know who it is when you hear me call.”