Chapter 60

A Noble and Generous Heart

Wow. I’d never thought about how many dumpsters a place like the Hotel La Fuente might have. Or how big those dumpsters were. Or how they might be located in dark alleys that silly girls shouldn’t be frequenting by themselves after dark.

Three figures crept closer to me in the darkness. Like the witches from Macbeth, they seemed made of shadows and bad intent. I backed toward the mouth of the alley and the streetlight there.

“Where are you going?” said a voice behind me.

So there were four of them. If this were Macbeth, the fourth would be Hecate, who was sort of the goddess in charge of witches. Not good.

“I wanted to look through the trash.”

“That’s our territory.” One of the figures stepped into the light. He was thin with dirty dreadlocked hair.

“Why do you want to look through the trash?” said the voice behind me.

I wanted to see who it was but was afraid to turn my back on the other three.

“My friend Candy is missing, and I think she might be...hiding in the hotel.”

“Are you talking about that Moon woman?” The second figure, a short woman with a black bandana around her head, approached me. “Your friend, huh? Everyone’s looking for her.”

“No, really. I’m her best friend.” I pulled up the Mexico photo and held out my phone to show them. Someone leapt out of the shadows and grabbed my phone. Smart, Ivy.

“That does sort of look like her.” The man who held my phone, the third witch, wore a dirty gray t-shirt and pants held up with a length of rope.

“Where did you see her picture?” Dreadlocks asked Dirty T-shirt.

“On the TV over at Tom’s.”

“Tom let you watch TV in his place without buying a drink?” Dreadlocks moved closer to the guy.

“Yeah,” said the short woman. “Where you’d get money for a drink?”

“Ladies and gentlemen.” The person behind me joined the first three. She was a tall, straight-backed black woman with an air of authority. “Let me see the photo, Freddy.”

Freddy/Dirty T-shirt handed my phone to her. She examined the photo, then looked at me. “Would you like to make a deal?”

I really needed that phone. “Yeah.”

The woman handed it back to me. Guess she wasn’t Hecate. “Have you sold this photo?” she asked.

“What?”

“Sold it. To the media.”

“Uh...no.”

“Well, then.” She pulled an iPhone out of her pocket. She saw me looking at it. “Don’t ask.” Even in my sorry state I wasn’t that stupid. “So,” she said, “send that photo to me at 602-555-0109.”

“Okay.” I did it. I didn’t ask what I would get out of the deal. Maybe I’d just get out.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“Ivy Meadows.”

Dreadlocks sniggered.

“It’s a stage name,” I said. “It’s meant to be memorable. Bet you won’t forget it.”

“Ha, she’s right.” The short woman poked him.

“What happens now?” I said.

“Now,” said the group’s leader, “we help look for your friend’s trash.”

  

Good thing I had their help. I would have never been able to go through all of the dumpsters on my own before Logan was ready to go.

“Freddy, you and I will take the recycle bins,” said Hecate. “Let’s look for any paper that has Candy or Candace or Moon on it.”

“Or Arrestadt or Babette,” I said. “But don’t worry about newspapers or magazines.”

“Can I keep the soda cans, Mama T?” asked Freddy.

“Of course,” Hecate/Mama T replied. “And Sissy, you and KJ take the trash. What should they look for?”

Wow. I hadn’t thought that far ahead. “Um...”

“She wear a certain kind of makeup?”

I shook my head. I didn’t know anymore.

“Take special medication?”

I shook my head again. If the blue pills had a name, I didn’t know what it was.

“Any snacks she likes?”

“Yes! MoonPies.”

“MoonPies.” I swear Mama T’s eyes got misty. “Loved me some MoonPies when I was little.”

We all searched for more than twenty minutes, me and Mama T using our cell phone flashlights when anyone thought they might have something. And then someone did.

“MoonPie!” shouted KJ. “I win.”

“No chance there’s a MoonPie in that wrapper?” asked Mama T.

“Just the wrapper,” he said. But it was enough. Candy, whose official room was at the Courtyard Marriot, had been staying at the Hotel La Fuente.

  

My enthusiasm only lasted a few minutes. The wrapper was a good sign, but not a certain one. Maybe the hotel shared dumpsters with the theater. Or maybe Candy and her MoonPies had been in Arrestadt’s room before she disappeared. I couldn’t check out the trash schedule right then, but I could try something else.

I slipped inside the Hotel La Fuente and took the stairs up to the fourth floor. I checked the hallway. No one around. I crept up to the door for Room 427, put my ear to the door, and listened. Was that the murmur of voices, or just the TV? Hard to tell. I turned around and tried listening with my other ear—which is why I didn’t see the elevator doors open.

“Hey, whatcha doin’?” said a big guy with a buzz cut. I backed away from the door, smiling, hands up—a nothing-to-see-here pose. He looked me up and down. “Hey, do I know you?”

I shook my head.

“She’s being very quiet,” said one of his friends. There were four of them, all with that red-faced cheer that comes from a night on the town. “Are you a spy?” he asked me. They all laughed uproariously.

“She’s not,” said the first guy, pulling out his phone. “I think I’ve seen her before.”

I turned toward the stairway, and escape.

“I got it!” he shouted after me. He held up his phone. “You’re that Candace Moon’s sister.”

I yanked open the door to the stairwell and ducked inside—but not before hearing a hotel-room door open behind me.