Killer Date: Scandals, #2

CHAPTER ONE

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A month ago I was in a private cabana at the Bellagio doing Beach Bum Jell-O shots off the rock-hard abs of the redhead I had cut in half ten hours before.  Now?  Vegas and super-hot showgirls were about twelve hundred miles away, although I’d done my share of Jell-O shots last night around the pool of my deceased father’s mansion on Lake Travis just outside of Austin. 

I started to drag my fingers through my perfectly rumpled black hair, but my hand stopped as soon as I touched my forehead.  Two days after getting out of the hospital, I still had a pounding headache.  Even my skin hurt.  In retrospect, hanging around the pool, downing shots and sangria probably hadn’t been the smartest idea, especially since my new-found siblings and I had almost been killed by Special K-spiked margaritas from a greedy bastard who had tried to burn us alive.

Then again, the fact that we had survived was definitely a great excuse for a party. 

Don’t take this wrong, Reno, but you look awful...are you sure your doctor cleared you to come back to work already?  Pam asked with motherly concern.  Not that she was my mother.  But she knew more about the Scandals detective agency that my four surprise siblings and I had inherited than any other person alive.  Her real son, Christopher, was now part owner and general manager of Scandals, not to mention semi-attached to one of my new sisters, Killeen.

It was even more complicated than it sounded, and it made my head ache even worse when I spent too much time thinking about it.

God, I hope I don’t look as bad as I feel, I moaned.  Doc didn’t put any restrictions on us when he let us leave the hospital yesterday.

I doubt he has much experience treating someone who was knocked out by Ketamine and slammed their head on a tile floor.  She smiled, but her lips quivered, giving away how deeply worried she had been.  I’m glad you guys are okay.  I still don’t understand how he put the drugs into the margaritas without anyone noticing.

When he said it was AsomBroso 11 Year Anejo, we kind of dropped our guard.  That shit costs a $1,000 a bottle.  We suspected he had killed Roger, but it never occurred to us that he’d have the balls to try to kill all six of us, too. 

Seven, counting Killeen’s baby, Pam reminded me.

Yeah, who figured that would be what saved us?  If she hadn’t been pregnant, she’d have been right in there with the margaritas.

Sounds like it caught him by surprise.

I nodded ruefully.  It caught us all by surprise.  I had no idea softball pitchers had that much speed...and accuracy.  She pegged him right between his eyes.  He never saw it coming.  I leaned a leather-covered hip on Pam’s desk and hooked one leg on the edge.

You kids were really lucky.  I’m so sorry that Roger isn’t here.  He would have so much fun running this business with you guys.

I feel a lot closer to him now, I told her.  After digging through his old stuff and meeting his past associates and friends, we found out a lot more about the man who had sired us, then disappeared off into the sunset.  It’s like he’s still here.

I’m glad you’re all going to stay.

We may kill each other in the process, but we’re learning how to be a family.

So where are Christopher and Killeen? Pam asked.

Probably fucking their brains out.  I suddenly remembered I was talking to Christopher’s mother and hurried to soften my comment.  I mean, they...

Pam laughed.  I know what you mean.  And I’m glad.  Everyone could see that they were perfect for each other...except them.

Well, she had her chance to cut and run but she chose to stay and save his life...must be love.  I couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of my tone.  In my opinion, love was a highly over-rated emotion, but all sorts of irrational behavior could be blamed on it.  I wasn’t sure what I would have done had I been in Killeen’s situation.  Getting the hell out of the house and calling the cops might have been my first response.  When given the choice of fight or flight, my history had always taken the latter path.

The front door opened and bright morning sun flowed through the doorway into the lobby of the agency.  A slender woman glided into the lobby.  She was short, probably no more than 5’ 3" and slender, but she had a knock-out body that was hidden beneath a scoop-necked yellow t-shirt and a pair of white shorts.  Her coal black hair was cut into a shaggy pixie with spiky bangs reaching her huge emerald green eyes. 

I typically go for the six-foot tall showgirls that are all legs and tits.  This girl was definitely not my type...too short and compact.  So no one was more surprised than me that my border patrol south of my belt-border went AWOL, and it took all my damaged brain cells to force my gaze upward to her small oval face.  It had been a long, dry two weeks, and I was obviously horny as hell if this pixie got my juices flowing.

She met my gaze steadily with just the slightest hint of contempt in her expression.  God, it was like she was reading my mind.  In her hand was a Scandals’ business card.  She held it out and I couldn’t help but notice the tattoo on the inside of her wrist of a pink heart, a yellow moon, a green clover and an orange star.  What kind of woman had a Lucky Charms tattoo?  Either she had a sense of humor hidden beneath her prickly exterior, or she really liked cereal.

I slid off the desk so abruptly that it startled her and she dropped the card.  As she bent over to pick it up, I noticed the elaborate curlicues of another tattoo on her lower back.  She straightened and held the card toward me again. 

I need you to find my sister, she said in a surprisingly husky voice. 

I grinned.  I never could resist a girl with a tramp stamp.  Nothing serious, of course, but maybe a temporary relief from my recent celibacy.

Is Roger Elliott available? she asked.

I took the card, glanced at it and saw it had Roger’s name printed on it.  An unexpected sense of melancholy swept through me as I realized that my father...this man I had never even met...had been very much alive and well when he left this card wherever this young woman had found it. 

When I didn’t immediately respond, Pam stood and extended her hand.  "My name is Pam, and you are...?

Jennifer Caldwell, but I go by Jenny.  The girl took Pam’s hand and managed a shaky smile.

I’m sorry, but Roger Elliott has..., Pam paused and swallowed back her still fresh emotions, ...he’s no longer with us.

Oh, I’m so sorry.  I didn’t actually know him.  Someone gave me his card.  She looked toward the offices in the back, completely ignoring me.  Anyone will do.

I stepped in front of her line of sight.  I’m Reno Marks, and I’m available. 

Jenny’s dark eyebrows lifted, disappearing beneath an uneven fringe of bangs.  Now it was her turn to sweep me from head to toe with a look that clearly judged me to be lacking.  Is there someone...older...uh, more experienced?

I just finished solving a major murder case, I assured her, ignoring the disapproving glance Pam shot me.  Okay, so it had been my first case, and I hadn’t been the only person involved in figuring out who had murdered Roger.  Being a performer in Vegas involved a certain level of deception.  In fact, my life with an alcoholic mother, an absentee father and a constant rotation of men who had no fatherly ambitions had caused me to escape into an imaginary world.  It wasn’t that I was a liar; it was more that I was a survivor who did whatever I needed to do to control the outcome. 

And, for some reason, it was suddenly very important that I gain this young woman’s trust and take on her case.  My lips stretched into my finest showman’s smile, proven to melt even the frostiest attitude.  I was not a man who was accustomed to being turned down...for anything.

We’ll be in the conference room, I informed Pam, then turned to Jenny.  Please follow me.  I’m sure you want to be reunited with your sister as soon as possible.

Mentioning her sister must have been the key phrase, because Jenny nodded and followed me without further protest.  I had a moment of doubt.  This was a serious situation, and, in truth, I had almost no experience.  I could bluff my way through the meeting, but when it came down to actually finding someone who wasn’t in the same room as I was, I knew I was in over my head.  As much as I wanted to impress this woman, I still didn’t want to screw up any chance of her sister being found.

Because I’m sure time is of the essence, I’m going to bring in one of the partners on this, I told her.  Pam, could you see if Christopher or Dallas are around and ask them to join us, please? I called over my shoulder.

Will do, Pam answered and picked up the phone.

Jenny and I reached the conference room.  I opened the door and stood aside, allowing her to enter first. Please, sit wherever you’re comfortable.  Can I get you a cup of coffee, a soft drink or water maybe?

Jenny collapsed on the chair closest to the door, apparently barely able to hold it all together for much longer.  A bottle of water would be great.  I’ve been rushing around since five this morning.

Is that when you found out she was missing?  I opened the small refrigerator in the corner of the conference room and pulled out two bottles of water.

I set one on the table in front of her after taking the time to twist the top to break the seal, a throwback to my bartending days. 

Before she could answer, the door opened and Dallas walked into the room.  His expression was calm and professional, but behind his back he gave me a thumbs-up signal.  How can we help you, Miss...?

Jenny Caldwell, this is Dallas Smith...my brother and also a co-owner of Scandals, I finished the introductions.

Dallas reached out and shook her hand.  It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jenny.  He sat down across from her. 

I picked up a writing tablet and pen from the sideboard and sat at the head of the table. She’s here to talk about her sister...

She’s gone missing, Jenny explained.

How long...? I started to ask, but the door opened behind me and Tulsa entered.

Mind if I sit in? Tulsa asked.  I’ve been trying to focus on designing our website, but my head’s killing me.

No, not at all.  Inwardly I sighed.  If every member of my new family popped in, I was never going to have a chance to find out about this intriguing young woman’s problem.  Oh, who was I kidding?  I really just wanted to get to know her a little better.  I decided to cut the introductions short.  First I nodded at Jenny, then at Tulsa.  Jenny...Tulsa who is one of my sisters and yet another co-owner.

Tulsa and Jenny exchanged friendly nods, then Tulsa moved to the other end of the table.

"Back to your sister, I tried to get everyone to focus.  Let’s start with her name."

Angela...I call her Angie.

How long has she been missing? I asked again.

Three days.

Dallas and Tulsa exchanged skeptical looks, and I had to admit my alarm level dropped dramatically.

Jenny leaned forward in an attempt to convince them of the urgency.  She’s never done that before.

How old is she? Tulsa asked.

Twenty.  She’ll be a junior at UT in the fall...graphics arts major.  Jenny must have realized she was losing her audience because she heaved a big sigh and slumped back in her chair. 

I felt sorry for her.  I’d lost a few audiences in my day, and I scrambled to find a way to get the crowd focused again.  So, you think she’s in danger?

Jenny’s eyes filled with tears.  I don’t know.  This isn’t like her.  She never stays out all night without calling or leaving me a note or something...and that was usually only for field trips or something school related that I knew about in advance.

You live together? Dallas prompted.

Jenny nodded.  Our parents died five years ago when I was eighteen and Angie was fifteen.  I had just graduated from high school, but I couldn’t let them put her in foster care.  I was able to sell the house and make enough to get us a nice little duplex near the campus.  I found a job at a day care center so I could be home at night to help her with her homework.  A wisp of a smile touched her lips.  My mom really wanted us to go to college so I was determined that Angie would finish high school and go to UT.

What about you? I couldn’t resist asking.

There was only enough money for one of us, and Angie has so much talent.  Jenny tried to act like it didn’t bother her that she had missed out on college, but I could tell it did.

So, she’s a twenty-year old college student who didn’t come home after a Friday night party, Dallas summarized.  Have you checked with her friends?  Classmates...teachers...neighbors?

Jenny shook her head.  This is going to sound mean, but she doesn’t have any friends...not close friends anyway.  We live on a really tight budget.  I still work at the pre-school and bartend on weekends.  She has a full course load every semester, including some classes this summer.  Once a week we’ll hit one of the happy hours on Sixth Street as a treat and to save on food money.  Neither of us has any time for friends.

Yeah, been there, done that.  I certainly knew my way around the happy hours and cheap buffets in Vegas.  Becoming a professional magician wasn’t like getting a job as a dentist.  You didn’t just get a degree and open an office.  You had to learn, mostly on the job and usually without pay.  I worked any odd job I could find, including bartending for the casinos and private parties.  On my desperate weekends, I worked as a waiter for a catering company and sometimes parked cars for events.  You wouldn’t believe the kinds of offers those gigs generated...some for pay, some legitimate, but most would have made it hard for me to look at myself in the mirror the next morning.  I’ve done lots of things that I regretted, but none that I was ashamed of.

How about a boyfriend? Tulsa was blunt.  Maybe they decided to spend the weekend at South Padre Island.

No boyfriend.  Angie was serious about school and her art.  She has classes Monday through Thursday, then works at her shop all day Friday and Saturday.

Her shop? I echoed.

She makes money painting portraits, designing signage and doing tattoos out of a little hole in the wall studio a couple blocks from the campus.

"Longhorn Tattoos Dallas asked.  When Jenny nodded, he said, I know where that is.  I park in a lot a couple blocks away and pass that shop when I go to classes."

Oh, you’re a student?  Jenny’s question was more out of politeness than curiosity.  She clearly couldn’t think of anything other than her sister’s safety.

Yeah...law school, Dallas told her.  So, she missed her classes today?

Yes, and she just wouldn’t do that...unless she was in trouble.  She knows I worry about her.

Does she have a cell phone? Tulsa asked.

Again Jenny nodded.  I tried calling her, but it went straight to voicemail.

Did you try to calibrate her cell phone location...you know using GPS? Tulsa asked.

Jenny shook her head and her eyes widened.  I didn’t think...  You can do that?  A glimmer of hope chased the despair from her expression.

If she has it turned on, it will.  Give me your phone, and I’ll check it out.

Jenny pulled her cell phone out of the side pocket of her purse and handed it to Tulsa.  It’s under her first name.

Tulsa nodded, already focused on flipping through screens and clicking buttons.

Have you gone to the police? Dallas asked.

Two days ago.  But they blew it off.  Jenny snorted her disgust.  "They kind of came to the same conclusions you did...kids, they said, go missing all the time.  Boyfriend, party, long weekend trip to Cabo.  He was doing some paperwork...he barely looked up at me."

APD is pretty good at what they do, but they’ve had a lot of financial pressures, Dallas offered.

I frowned at Dallas’ total lack of empathy.  Sure, what he said was true, but it wasn’t what Jenny needed to hear right now.  Dallas could use a little help with his stage presence.  Any luck, Tulsa?

No...I’m not getting any ping at all.  She handed the phone back to Jenny.  The battery could be dead, her phone may be turned off or she could be out of range.  We can try again later.

Jenny’s shoulders slumped.  She stared at the phone in her hand as if her best friend had betrayed her.  It was the last tenuous thread with her sister, and now that, too, was broken.  Her voice was barely above a whisper as she said, Thanks for trying.

I wished desperately that I could tell her everything was going to be alright, and her sister would show up, probably with a sunburn and an STD.  But I couldn’t.  I’d seen the dramatic emotional swing she’d had when she thought they could find Angela using GPS and then the disappointment.  She had no one else to turn to for help.  Just Scandals...and me.  Impulsively, I leaned toward her and covered her hand with my own.  Hers was much smaller than mine and so cold. We’re going to do all we can to find her.  Did you check out her studio for any notes or phone numbers?

Sort of, but I didn’t notice anything unusual.

I think we should start there.  Maybe she has an appointment book or an address scribbled on something, I suggested, trying to remember all the cop and investigation shows I’d seen.

She brightened slightly at the hint of a positive plan.  Listen...I only have $400.  She reached into her purse, took out four well-worn hundred dollar bills and placed them on the table.

I took the money, examined it, turned it over, then counted aloud as I transferred the bills from my right hand to my left.  It was a move I’d learned when I was twelve and trying to make money for lunch...except this was a reverse version.  One hundred, two hundred, three hundred, four hundred, five hundred.  You must have made a mistake.

Jenny stared at the stack of bills in my hand.  But I’m sure I gave you only $400!

I put the money on the table and pushed the five hundred dollar bills back to her.  First things first.  Don’t worry about the money until we solve the case.  If you have some time right now, let’s go look at her shop.

A little confused, she picked up the $500 and placed it in her wallet.  I took the day off, so I’m ready...let’s go.  She stood up and began to walk to the door.

Dallas?  Tulsa? I asked.  Are you coming?

Dallas shrugged.  I’m in.

I’d better get back to the website, Tulsa said.  It’s vintage...I mean, like a time capsule from the ‘90s.  No focus on mobiles, no video in the hero area, no scrolling and the color scheme makes me epileptic.

You’re talking Greek again.  I swear, the only time I see you smile is when you’re throwing out computer lingo.  I turned and followed Jenny who was already in the lobby, her foot tapping impatiently. 

Christopher and Killeen entered from the warehouse doors.  He was over six feet tall, and Killeen was only a couple inches shorter.  They made a stunning couple and even Jenny, who could think of little other than her sister, stopped and stared. 

Good morning, Christopher said as soon as he saw Jenny.  I’m Christopher and this is Killeen.  We’re...

Let me guess...another brother and sister, Jenny interrupted.

Uh...brother, no.  Yes to the sister, Christopher answered with a smile.  It’s sort of complicated.

Jenny’s our newest client.  We’re going to see if we can find some clues about where her sister might be, I explained.

Glad you two finally decided to show up for work, Dallas said, only partially joking.  As a law student, only two years short of his degree, he valued commitment and punctuality.  He was struggling to adjust to the wildly disparate habits and quirks of his new-found family.

Killeen blushed, but Christopher just laughed.  The alarm didn’t go off.  Did you hear it? he asked Killeen.

No, I didn’t hear a thing, she answered, her big blue eyes trying to look blankly innocent, but failing miserably.  Must have slept right through it.

All I can say is, I’m glad the walls at the mansion are so thick, Dallas commented, Or none of us would be getting any sleep.

Speaking of mansion, can you meet us there around two? Christopher asked.

Why? I asked.

Our landlord wants to meet all of us this afternoon, Killeen explained.

Our landlord? Dallas echoed. 

None of them had any idea who that mysterious entity was.  It was one of the unknowns that we were all trying not to think about.  Apparently, Roger had done the person a favor and had been given the use of the mansion for an unspecified time for only $1.00 a year.  That had been great for Roger, but now that he was gone, there was the distinct possibility that we would be kicked out.  My portion of the inheritance and my salary at Scandals meant I could afford something pretty nice on my own, but the mansion was huge and luxurious with a live-in cook named John and a house manager named Gerald who took great care of us.  Besides, I was just getting to know my new brothers and sisters, and separation would slow down that process.  

Are you going to tell us his name or is it a surprise? I asked.

Christopher glanced over at Jenny, then back at me.  I don’t actually know.  His agent called and set up the appointment.

Unless we stumble on something urgent, we should be back by then, I told them.  To be honest, I didn’t think we were going to turn anything up at Angie’s shop, but it was a great excuse to spend more time with Jenny.  And maybe we could find something that would reassure her that her sister was merely careless and not actually in danger.

He insisted on meeting at the house.  They’re still making repairs from the fire, and I was hoping it would be finished before he found out.  The kitchen looks pretty rough.  Christopher added, I tried to set it up somewhere else, but no luck.

The whole crazy incident was all over the internet, so I doubt it’s a secret, Dallas pointed out.

That might be why he’s coming to see us.  Maybe he’s going to tell us to move out, Killeen suggested.  I’ve kind of gotten attached to my Beatles room.

Beatles?  Jenny looked confused.

Yeah, every bedroom in the mansion is decorated with memorabilia about a famous musician or band, Killeen explained.  It’s pretty cool.

Sounds like it. Jenny agreed.

We’ll make it if we can, I promised.  Jenny was being polite, but I saw her glancing surreptitiously at her phone, probably hoping for a message...or maybe just anxious to get on with the investigation.  As much as I doubted we were going to find something, I wanted to give it my best shot.  Jenny didn’t deserve to be put through this aggravation, especially by a clueless younger sister.  Dallas, can you follow us?  I’ll ride with Jenny.

Sure.  Dallas pulled the keys for his black Range Rover out of his pocket and headed toward the warehouse’s side lot where the employees and customers who were trying not be seen parked behind a high wall with an electronic gate.

Nice to meet you, Jenny.  Killeen gave her a friendly smile and Jenny nodded.

You, too, she said and headed toward the front door.  I had to hurry to keep up.  This was a woman with a mission.

There was only one car in the front lot, a silver ten-year-old Honda Accord that was obviously hers.

They seem nice, Jenny commented after we were settled in the front seat of her car.

They are.  Remind me to tell you how Killeen saved our lives last weekend.

Angela’s tattoo studio was in an older area of downtown that hadn’t yet been transformed by urban renewal.  Of course, there was a Starbucks on one corner and a neighborhood grocery store on the other.  Crammed between the Starbucks and a trendy used furniture store was a narrow shop barely wide enough for a single door and a 3’ x 5’ plate-glass window that had been painted over so you couldn’t see inside.  Longhorn Tattoo was neatly hand-painted on the outside, along with a phone number and Open Saturday, Sunday and By Appointment.  A large padlock hung on the commercial grade zinc-plated latch.

I’m not familiar with Austin, I said as I watched her struggle to get the padlock off of the shiny new hasp, but this doesn’t strike me as a particularly safe area.

She frowned as she concentrated on getting the key to turn...without success.  It’s all she could afford.  Being so close to the university, it has a lot of foot traffic.

One of the first tricks I had learned as a child was how to pick locks, and I knew that in spite of its size and quality, I could open this one in less than fifteen seconds.  However, I didn’t want to freak Jenny out by showing her how easy it would be to breech the front door, so I stood back and let her use her key.

Dallas added.  During the day, it’s okay.  At night, it can be a little sketchy.

Jenny didn’t seem surprised by that information.  She was only here during daylight hours.  I insisted on that.  Besides, I know how she loses herself in her art, and I wanted to make sure she had time to do her homework.

Did she stick to the schedule? Dallas asked.

Always.  Oh, she might be five or ten minutes late, but she always came home before dark, Jenny answered.

That didn’t sound like a girl with