Don't Make Me Choose Between You and My Shoes (15 page)

“…came here…a drink…the offer, wasn't…”

“Yeah…I'll make good on it. What about
your
…”

“…no offer…end…bullshit performance…”

“…you jerk.”

“What are they saying?” Debbie Sue said. “There's too much static. I can't hear.”

“Me, neither,” Edwina replied.

Debbie Sue looked up and saw Edwina fussing with the wire to her earpiece. It was entangled with her shoulder-length earring and her long acrylic nails.

“Don't listen yet,” Edwina whispered. “I don't want to miss anything and I'm all screwed up here. I think they're arguing.” She pulled and tugged at the wire. “Help me out, would ya?”

“Edwina, take the damn thing out of your ear. Then you can untangle it.”

Edwina jerked the foam earpiece from her ear and began to fiddle with the earring and the earpiece. Debbie Sue continued to listen.

“Don't worry about it,” a female voice that sounded like Cher's said. “Nothing's happened. Let go of my arm and I'll leave.”

“Asshole,” Debbie Sue muttered.

“What's he doing? What's he doing?” Edwina asked frantically.

“Shh.”

“It won't be like…easy…those so-called private investigators, who, by the way, are a joke…” Rogenstein said.

Something told Debbie Sue he was talking about her and Edwina. “Asshole,” she repeated.

“Dammit, what is he saying?”

“I don't know, Ed. I can't hear when you're yammering in my other ear.”

Debbie Sue glared at Edwina. Now the woman had the earpiece and the earring untangled, but her earpiece was disconnected from the device and she was turning it every which way.

“I knew you couldn't believe that little bald-headed bastard when he said a nine-year-old kid could put this together,” she mumbled, more to herself than anyone else. “It's supposed to be color coded. Dammit, there's no colors. Just show me some ever-lovin' colors.”

Debbie Sue removed her earpiece, hung the wire around
her neck and went to Edwina's aid. “You and your friggin' Christmas ornaments you try to pass off as jewelry.”

“Shush,” Edwina hissed. “It just so happens I borrowed these from you.”

“Oh. Well, in that case, I love them.” Now Debbie Sue had the device reassembled and the earpiece plugged back into its proper receptacle. She handed it back to Edwina, reinserted her own earpiece and stepped close to the wall again.

“…corpse…laugh…stumble all over each other.”

“Did he say ‘corpse'?” Edwina whispered.

“Ed, you don't have to whisper. They can't hear us.”

“I'm turning it up.”

“Ed, no—”

Wheeee!
A high-pitched sound pierced Debbie Sue's ear. Her eyes almost crossed. She yanked the earpiece free. “Ed, turn that fuckin' thing down! You 'bout busted my eardrum.”

“Well, dammit, I didn't know. I was on the other end, too. It was no picnic for me, either.” She pulled on her earlobe while she fiddled with the controls. “Here, I've adjusted it. Let's try again.”

They resumed their listening positions. “My God,” Debbie Sue said in amazement. “I don't know what you did to it, but it's like we're standing in the same room with them.”

“We should definitely buy this. I don't care what it costs.”

“Shhh, Ed, let me listen.”

“…you're hurting my arm.” Cher's voice.

“Holy cow. He must like it rough,” Edwina said.

Thump…hump-thump…crash!

Debbie Sue heard an outcry that had to have come from a man. “I think you're right, Ed.”

“That's it, Cher,” Edwina exclaimed in a stage whisper. “Kick 'im in the nuts.”

She made a swing with her fist and disconnected both wires from the device. The small recorder fell to the floor.

“Ed, forgodsakes!” Debbie Sue dropped to her knees, picked up the machine and reassembled it.

More thumps, then a gagging sound, followed by, “Police! Cheryl Angelo, Special Victims Unit. Frank Rogenstein, you're under arrest for assault on a police officer.”

Debbie Sue's jaw dropped. She stared at Edwina. “Cher's a cop? I thought she was a prostitute.”

Edwina lifted her shoulders and opened her palms.

“Now this is rich,” Rogenstein said. “Two cops,
mano y mano
. Your backup should have been through that door by now. I'm guessing you're wearing a wire…. You didn't tell them you're up here, did you, cutie? Thought you'd be safe with ol' Frank, huh? Taking a little time off the clock is allowed, but it's really dumb to leave the safety on your gun.”

“Oh my God,” Edwina said. “Cher's got a gun?”

Thump-thump!…Thwack! Crash!

“Shoot him,” Edwina cried.

“Ed, forgodsakes, will you shut up?”

“…rest in peace…better hooker than…a cop.”

Silence.

Debbie Sue's heart felt as if it were bouncing in her rib cage. She looked at Edwina, blinking. Edwina blinked back.

“Debbie Sue, what did we just hear?”

“I—I don't know. I can't figure it out.”

“Did it sound to you like they had a fight? Did he say ‘cop'? Did he say ‘rest in peace'?”

“I don't know,” Debbie Sue said, trying to control the tremor in her voice. If she became hysterical, Edwina would, too. “Maybe he meant, ‘Just lay down and go to sleep,' like, you know, ‘Sleep well.'”

“Does that slimy guy seem like the type to tell a woman he's alone in a hotel room with to rest in peace as he tucks her in for a nap?”

Debbie Sue walked over and dropped to the edge of the bed. “Shit, Ed, I don't know what we heard.”

“Well, let's just go knock on the door. Like, you know, we're going to visit.”

“Wait, Ed, I'm thinking.”

“Debbie Sue, I won't rest until I know if Cher is all right. She can't be dead.”

“Cher is dead?” came a voice from the hall door. Celina stood there, her plastic key in her hand. “Oh, no. Poor Chastity. First Sonny on a ski slope, and now Cher. It really is the passing of a rock 'n' roll dynasty, isn't it?”

Edwina's brow squeezed into a frown. “What?”

“I remember ‘I Got You Babe.' Granny Dee used to play it all the time.”

“No, darlin',” Edwina said patiently. “Cher is the name of the woman we met in the bar. The one you thought looked like Gilda?”

“Oh,” Celina said, laughing. Then her humor collapsed. “And she's dead? What happened?”

In broken sentences, Debbie Sue attempted to describe to Celina what they had heard. Edwina interrupted often. She, too, was shaky voiced. At the end of it, Debbie Sue said, “The damned Ear wasn't working right and Edwina kept talking, so we missed a lot of what happened. Maybe we should do what Ed said. Maybe we should go over there and knock and see what's going on.”

“Too bad that Ear thing doesn't record,” Celina said, chewing on her thumbnail. “You could play it back.”

Debbie Sue looked at Edwina, who was staring back at her. “Does it record?” Edwina asked. “I don't remember.”

Debbie Sue got to he feet, grabbed the box the listening device had come in and began to read the fine print. “Oh, my God,” she said a few seconds later. “Once it's turned on, it records anything that happens, no matter what.”

“Does that mean it was recording while we were screwing around with it?” Edwina asked.

“Sonofabitch, we've got the whole damn thing recorded.”

Without another word Debbie Sue picked up the device and gingerly carried it to the desk. She set the small recorder down carefully and let out a deep breath. Edwina and Celina gathered closer. Debbie Sue sank to the chair and pressed
REPLAY
.

The entire recording lasted only minutes. At the end of it Edwina broke down in tears. “Debbie Sue, it sounds like he killed her. It sounds like he killed Cher.”

Debbie Sue felt her brow tent with anguish and she couldn't hold back tears, either. “I know, Ed. That's what it sounds like.”

“He killed her?” Celina said. She looked away.

“What should we do?” Edwina whispered. Debbie Sue could see her whole body trembling.

Finally Debbie Sue found her voice. She swallowed, her arm pressed against her stomach as if that would hold her together. “We have to call the police.”

“Right. We should call nine-one-one.” Edwina slashed away tears and running mascara with the back of her hand. Smudges of black stained her cheeks. “I'm gonna keep listening and make sure he doesn't leave the room.”

Debbie Sue picked up the phone to dial, but Celina stopped her. “Wait, we should call Matt. He could tell us what to do. Or maybe he would do something himself.”

“Maybe that's a good idea,” Debbie Sue said.

“I have his cell number.” Celina picked up her purse and began to dig inside. She came up with a business card.

Debbie Sue yanked the card from Celina and punched in Matt's number. After several seconds she hung up. “Fuck. It went straight to his voice mail. He must be on another call.”

“Try again,” Celina begged. “If you don't get him, leave a message. Tell him it's an emergency.”

“Here,” she said to Celina, rising from the chair. “You sit down here and you call him. If
you
tell him it's an emergency, he'll come running.”

Celina took Debbie Sue's seat and placed the call. Minutes that seemed more like hours, passed. The three women sat and watched the phone as if their sheer will would make Matt answer.

At the ten-minute mark Edwina sprang to her feet. “I'm
not sitting here another minute. Even if she's not dead, the poor woman could be hurt. We should have already gone over there. I can't just stand here and act like I didn't hear what I think I heard when I know I heard it. When I look in the mirror I like what I see and I want to keep liking it. I'm going over there and check things out.” Her hands flapped like bird wings. “Holy shit, I wish Vic was here!”

“If you think I'm letting you go alone, you're crazy,” Debbie Sue said. “I have to look in the same mirrors you do. If anyone goes, we both will. There's power in numbers.”

“And there's crap in my pants,” Edwina said.

“What about me?” Celina asked. She, too, was in tears.

“You stay here and wait for Matt's call,” Debbie Sue told her. “If we don't come back in, say, five minutes, come bang on the door.”

Debbie Sue saw the young woman swallow hard and for the first time realized she might be afraid. If they hadn't enticed her here with a free room, she wouldn't have become a part of this. “Everything's gonna be okay, Celina. I promise. Just make sure Matt gets over here.”

“Okay,” she said in a tiny voice.

Debbie Sue linked her arm through Edwina's. “C'mon, Ed.”

D
ebbie Sue and Edwina stopped at the door to Room 620 and drew a deep breath almost in unison.

“Okay,” Edwina whispered. “This is it. I'm knocking. Ready?”

“Ready.”

Edwina pounded on the door with her fist.

The door popped open so quickly Debbie Sue and Edwina both jumped.

“Ladies,” Detective Rogenstein said with a big smile. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

Debbie Sue traded glances with Edwina.

“I'd like to talk to Cher,” Edwina said, a flutter in her voice.

Debbie Sue attempted to look past him, but he was too tall and too wide.

“Cher? Sorry, but I don't think I can help you. As you can see, I'm alone.” He swung the door wide.

“Yep, that's right, Ed,” Debbie Sue said. “Yep, he's alone. Okay then, 'bye. Sorry to have bothered you.” She grabbed Edwina's arm and pulled her away.

Edwina freed her arm from Debbie Sue's grip and glared at Rogenstein. “I saw her go in there with you.”

“Maybe you're confused. Too much to drink this evening, perhaps?”

Debbie Sue finally succeeded in dragging Edwina back into their own room and barricading the door with her body.

“Debbie Sue, get out of my way. We know for a fact—”

Before Edwina finished, Debbie Sue took her arm and led her to the chair on the far side of the room. She sat her down and pulled the other chair close to her. “What we know for a fact is that he's lying and people lie to cover up the truth. The truth is if he's done something to her, now he knows that we know.”

“Oh, poor Cher.” Edwina pressed a clenched fist against her mouth. “Debbie Sue, do you really think she's dead?” Tears shimmered in Edwina's brown eyes.

“I don't know, but—”

“I couldn't get hold of Matt,” Celina said. “He didn't call back.”

Edwina stood and stepped around Debbie Sue. “I'm not waiting. I'm calling nine-one-one and telling them to get the fuck over here.”

Debbie Sue looked up at her best friend's face and her reddened eyes. Lines of black mascara trailed down her cheeks. She couldn't remember the last time she had seen Edwina so upset. “Let me do it, Ed,” she said softly. “We want them to know we're serious. I'm afraid you're too emotional.”

Edwina squared her shoulders. Her chin quivered. “I'm not too emotional. But you're right. You call. You know how to talk to cops. I'd rather watch the hallway. I'd love it if that arrogant sperm bank showed his fat ass.”

“I wonder if I should call Buddy and discuss it with him?” Debbie Sue said, getting to her feet.

“No,” Edwina exclaimed. “If you call Buddy, he'll call Vic, and the next thing you know, Vic will be on the phone telling me to come home now. Or hell, who knows? A SEAL team might even show up.”

“Let's go ahead and call nine-one-one then,” Debbie Sue said. “That fucker next door is a professional cop. Let his own kind deal with him. When the cops get here, they can search the room. If Cher's passed out, they'll find her. If she's…well, they'll find her, right?”

“Right,” Celina said.

“Right,” Edwina agreed. “And while you're doing that, I'm gonna watch his door.” She dragged a chair over and opened the door a crack.

Debbie Sue punched in the three digits. The emergency operator's voice came on the line. “What is your emergency?”

“My name is Debbie Sue Overstreet. I'm registered at the Anson Hotel on Times Square, in room six-one-eight. My
husband is James Russell Overstreet, Junior, Texas Department of Public Safety trooper. I have this friend who's a prostitute. She went into the room next door with a guy and…What I want to do is report a murder in room six twenty—”

“How do you know it was a murder, ma'am?”

“Well, uh, I heard it.”

“You heard a gunshot?”

“Well, no, not a gunshot. It was a big thud and some thumps and—”

“Your friend's a prostitute? Are you sure you aren't hearing some kind of bed play?”

Debbie Sue jammed a fist against her hip. “Listen, I'll have you know my husband's studying to be a Texas Ranger, and I know better than to call nine-one-one for nothing.”

“I'm sending someone, but I warn you, ma'am, misuse of the emergency call service is a crime.” The line went dead.

Debbie Sue jerked the receiver away from her ear and stared at it. “She hung up. Dammit, she acted like she didn't believe me.”

“Yankee,” Edwina muttered.

“Hmm,” Celina put in, frowning. “I guess a big thump and some thuds doesn't necessarily translate to murder.”

“Well, she said she'd send someone. They have to come, if for no other reason than to give me a ticket or something for misuse of the emergency call service. For the first time in my life I hope I'm going to be made out an ass.”

“I couldn't agree with you more,” Edwina said, returning to her lookout post.

“Listen, y'all,” Celina said. “I just remembered the conversation last night about the possibility of a serial murderer of prostitutes. You don't think—”

“Oh, my God,” Debbie Sue said. “Do you suppose? An honest-to-God serial killer right here under our noses.”

Edwina closed the gap in the door and leaned against it. “Dear God. And he knows we know.”

Debbie Sue began to pace. Celina grabbed a bag of potato chips and dropped into an easy chair. She began cramming chips into her mouth as if she were in an eating contest with a phantom opponent.

Edwina gave Debbie Sue a troubled look. “This doesn't seem like it's real.” Her brow tented and she chewed on her lower lip. “I wonder if I'm losing my grip on reality.”

“I think that already happened downstairs in the bar,” Debbie Sue replied, and strode to the bathroom.

Ten tense minutes later, NYPD officers arrived. Edwina dashed up the hallway toward them, waving her arms and gesturing wildly. Debbie Sue and Celina followed.

“We heard the man in the room next to us choke a woman to death,” Edwina cried. “Quick, get in there. She might still be alive.”

The taller of the two policemen patted the air with his palms in a calming gesture. “Slow down, lady. Tell us what happened.”

Debbie Sue and Celina skidded to a stop behind Edwina.

“We're detectives,” Edwina said. “We're here for the private investigators' convention. We got this piece of audio equipment to try out and when we put it against the wall
to listen in on the room next door, we heard the man in six twenty choking a woman. That's the story. Now, go check on her.”

The shorter cop couldn't have been over five foot five or six, Debbie Sue observed. He looked up at Edwina, giving her the squint-eye. “Weren't you in the bar earlier this evening when the fight broke out?”

“Yes. Yes, that was me, but I had nothing to do with the…well, with what happened down there. You yourself heard my story and let me go.”

“This device,” the tall cop said. “Would that happen to be the Ear?” He looked down at his partner, his brow arched. “I've been reading about that equipment. It's cool, man.”

“Excuse me, but could we get back to the woman who's dead or dying in room six twenty?”

“Yeah,” Debbie Sue and Celina chorused.

Debbie Sue heard the distinct sound of the elevator door opening and shot a glance in that direction. The night manager appeared from around the corner, approaching them in a trot.

“Oh, fuck,” Debbie Sue mumbled under her breath.

“Officers, I'm the night manager. May I inquire—” He stopped and landed a glare of incredulity on Edwina and Debbie Sue. “You two again? What's going on now? Is something on fire? What's the meaning of this?”

“Sir, these ladies have reported a murder in room six-two-zero.”

“Murder!” The night manager's eyes bugged. “My God. First a fight, now murder?” He slapped his forehead with his
palm, making Debbie Sue wince. “I'm finished,” he gasped. “Done. I'll never work in a first-class hotel again. I'll be lucky to even rent a room in a hotel.” His eyes darted among them. “My ex-wife sent you here, didn't she? This is revenge, isn't it?”

Edwina looked down at his nametag, then back up at the distraught man. “Homer, none of this is your fault. Surely things worse than this happen in big-city hotels every day.”

Homer yanked a handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiped his sweaty brow. His shaking hands showed fingernails bitten to the quick, and Debbie Sue again felt sorry for him.

“Worse than thousands of dollars in damage to the bar?” he cried. “A possible murder in the hotel in the same night? You'd have to know Mr. Pembroke. He doesn't allow
anything
ugly to happen in his hotel. On his watch or off. He fired the last assistant manager because a guest complained of slow room service.”

“Well, he shouldn't be so quick to jump to judgment,” Debbie Sue said.

Edwina redirected her attention to the men in blue. “So? Can we get back to the issue? Let's go talk to this perp.” She started for the neighboring room.

“You ladies stay right here,” the taller cop said with authority. “My partner and I'll take it from here.” He turned to the night manager. “Sir?…Homer, you have a pass key for this room, don't you?”

“Of course,” Homer answered weakly.

“Would you accompany us, please, staying back and out of harm's way, of course.”

“Sure. Why not? Maybe there'll be an exchange of gunfire and I'll get shot.”

Both men freed their weapons as they approached Room 620. Debbie Sue and Edwina stayed only a couple of steps behind. The taller cop rapped on the door and called out, “NYPD. Open up. We'd like to talk to you, sir.”

The door opened immediately and Detective Rogenstein greeted them as if they were invited dinner guests, a cigar in his hand. “Hello, boys. What's up? They need me back at the station?”

Edwina gasped and Debbie Sue gave her an elbow to the ribs.

“Detective Rogenstein,” the shorter cop exclaimed, clearly shocked. “I uh, uh, we—we're answering a call, sir. There must be a mistake of some kind. There's been a report of foul play in this room.”

“
Frank
Rogenstein?
The
Frank Frogenstein?” The second policeman thrust out his right hand. “It's an honor to meet you, sir. I'm Pat McShane and this is my partner, Ed Fitzpatrick. I've been studying some of your cases for when I take the detective exams.”

Edwina turned to Debbie Sue and Celina with a look of astonishment. “Why, they're gonna have an orgasm any minute. I wouldn't be surprised if one of 'em whipped out a camera and asked somebody to take their pictures together.”

Rogenstein obviously heard her. A chilling look came their way before he continued his conversation with his admirers. “Have you, now? Well good luck to you, son. Keep studying and working hard. You'll get there. I started out as a
beat cop myself. A long time ago, mind you,” he added with a chuckle, “but the same work eithic I've practiced my whole career will work for you too. Now, how can I help you?”

“Sir, uh,” McShane said, “it seems a call was placed to nine-one-one—”

“Sir.” The hotel manager pushed between the two officers, picked up Rogenstein's hand and began to pump it vigorously. “Sir, I cannot tell you how sorry I am for this disturbance. All of this is a terrible mistake. Can I repay you in some way? A muffin basket, perhaps? Our chef prepares a delightful arrangement accented with tiny little fresh flowers—”

“I hate muffins,” Rogenstein growled through a tight smile. “I don't even know what's going on yet.”

Edwina stepped up beside the taller cop, glaring at Detective Rogenstein. “You know what this is all about. Don't think you can piss down our backs and convince us it's raining.”

“Yeah,” Debbie Sue put in.

“Ma'am,” Officer McShane said sternly to Edwina, “watch your mouth. We'll handle this.”

Detective Rogenstein leveled a look of contempt at Edwina, then turned a cruise-director smile back on the two cops. “I don't seem to be very popular with my neighbors, do I? Perhaps I had the volume on my TV too high?”

“Hah!” Edwina said.

“Your volume was just fine and we heard every word of it,” Debbie Sue said, stepping up to support Edwina.

Celina came forward, too, and stood shoulder to shoulder
with them. “I personally didn't hear any of it, but if they said they did, that's all I need to know.”

“We're sorry about this, sir,” Officer McShane said to Rogenstein, edging the three women aside.

“No need to apologize for doing your job,” Rogenstein replied. “Come in and check the room. If you didn't, I'd have to report you.”

He allowed the two cops entry, but blocked the doorway as Debbie Sue and her two pals attempted to follow. “I hope you don't mind if I close the door,” he said to the two cops. “There's nothing worse than a bunch of wannabes trying to tell professionals how to do their job.”

He chuckled and the cops laughed, too. “Not at all, sir,” the one named Fitzpatrick said. “They have no business in here. They've already caused trouble downstairs.”

The door closed and Debbie Sue, her two friends and Homer were left standing in the hallway.

“Fuck,” Debbie Sue said.

“Shit,” Edwina added.

“Oh, dear God,” Homer said, falling back against the wall beside the door. He slid to the floor, holding his head in his hands.

“I brought this,” Celina said, holding up a glass tumbler. She stepped around Homer, placed the rim against the door and glued her ear to the bottom of the glass.

“Outta my way,” Edwina said, “I brought
this
.” She produced the Ear. She planted it on the door and handed one of the earpieces to Debbie Sue.