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I was assured by the calm and collected operator that police were en-route. Thanking her and hanging up, I grabbed my laptop off the nightstand and started booking my flight back to Ohio. With any luck, I’d be home tonight. Ronnie knew where I lived if and when he discovered anything usable against his wife. I was about to hit the pay button when I noticed George staring at me.
‘What?’ I asked, full of dread.
‘I meant, what’s your story to the cops?’
‘Oh. Uh...’
I probably should’ve thought about that before I called. Or before the police promptly came and knocked on my door, announcing their presence at the same time.
‘That was fast,’ I whispered, suddenly feeling anxious.
‘You practically admitted a murder, remember?’ George said, popping his head through the door. ‘Don’t worry, you got a plain-clothes and a regular cop. Nothing big yet.’
I opened the door to confirm.
‘Hi,’ I greeted lamely.
‘Ma’am, we’ve had a report of a body at this location,’ the older one said, both flashing their badges.
‘Yeah, I made the call. Come in,’ I said, standing back. They both looked pointedly at the barely ajar door.
‘He’s behind it.’
They instantly looked at me.
‘I didn’t kill him.’
This wasn’t going well.
‘I had a knock on my door at about 2am. I opened it, and there was a dead body outside. I got scared so I, uh, dragged it in,’ I explained, internally groaning. George was right. That did sound dubious. ‘And I’ve been terrified ever since.’
They shared a look, for some unfathomable reason unconvinced.
‘May we come in?’
I needed the brief respite to gather my thoughts. Catching sight of George, he didn’t seem too hopeful either. Alright, my story wasn’t convincing, but it was the truth. I was pretty sure CCTV would confirm most of it anyway. It’d all get sorted out. Maybe.
The one I presumed to be a detective came in first. He was wearing an ill-fitting navy suit and blue shirt, with scuffed black shoes. I guessed he was around fifty years of age, or less if he’d had a hard life. His dark hair was balding in places. He didn’t seem friendly.
Yay.
The cop looked about five years older than me, or possibly ten. I wasn’t great with guessing ages. Luckily I was single, or that particular trait could’ve gone horribly wrong for me.
I stood by the bed and waited for them to close the door and continue the friendly chat. They did neither. Instead the cop knelt down to Jorge and checked for a pulse under the towel. I refrained from mentioning the blindingly obvious.
‘Call it in,’ the detective instructed the young one. He did. I realized I’d forgotten their names.
‘Who did you say you were again?’ I asked, instantaneously gaining their attention. I cringed back and almost bumped into the bedpost.
‘Detective Frank Taylor and Officer Jamal Stanford. And you are?’ Taylor asked, whipping out a notebook.
‘Uh...’
Not the response they were expecting. Not the one I was expecting to give, either. I acted fast.
‘Brianna Mendes. My dad doesn’t know I’m here,’ I explained, beginning with the truth. ‘We had a falling out over his new girlfriend, so I had to get away from it all. Give us both some space, you know?’
As soon as I mentioned my father, their eyes narrowed.
‘How old are you, ma’am?’
‘Seventeen.’
‘And you’re here alone? No adult with you?’
‘No. That’s not illegal, though,’ I felt the need to inform them arrogantly. I immediately regretted antagonizing them.
‘Nice job, you’ll be in jail in no time,’ George sighed from across the room. I glared at him.
Taylor noticed my sudden stare into thin air and followed my eyes, seeing absolutely nothing. George waved all the same.
‘Of course,’ Taylor said slowly, returning his eyes to mine, albeit confusedly. ‘We may have to-’
‘Frank? You’ll want to see this,’ Stanford interrupted nervously. Taylor marched over as I watched, on guard. The beat cop was looking at Jorge’s wallet, and, I assumed, his ID. If they knew his name, that wasn’t exactly a good sign. Maybe I was right, and Jose did know him. Maybe I’d get even luckier and they’d tie this to Angela, solving all my problems. That’d be swell.
Except, Taylor didn’t react how I thought he would. He paled, actually looked a little ill. Stanford put a comforting hand on the detective’s shoulder, and I sought out George. Something wasn’t right. He shrugged, wondering the same.
Letting out a deep sigh, Taylor stood and faced me, but his hostility seemed to have disappeared. Whatever he’d seen that I’d missed had hit him hard.
‘Did you see anyone when you opened the door last night?’
‘No,’ I told him honestly. ‘I really don’t understand what’s going on. I’ve only been here a couple days. All I’ve done is sunbathed and shopped.’
He nodded, but he was barely listening. All three of us could see that. Concerned, his colleague abandoned the body briefly to come over to him.
‘Frank?’
Taylor started, came out of his stupor.
‘I think we’ve got all we need for now,’ he said, the epitome of professionalism. ‘Your room, however, is a crime scene, so-’
‘Yeah, I’m out of here. Literally about to take my suitcase and switch rooms, if not hotels.’
‘You haven’t unpacked?’ Stanford asked, suspicious.
‘No, I didn’t bring much. Didn’t see the point. I’m sorry, is there a problem with that?’
He started to say something, but Taylor held a hand to silence him.
‘Leave it, J. She’s only a stupid kid. She’s got nothing to do with this.’
George burst into laughter and I couldn’t help staring at him. Again, Taylor noticed.
‘What are you looking at?’
‘I saw a pigeon,’ I randomly said, validating his point, I guess. He didn’t seem to be overly convinced by that, and Stanford definitely thought I was up to something. Luckily, the forensic team arrived so I grabbed my cell and suitcase and left quickly, avoiding looking at Jorge. I never wanted to see that guy again, dead or alive.
‘So, obviously they know him. What do you reckon? Serial killer?’ George asked as I headed for the lobby. Sharing the elevator with a couple other people, I didn’t acknowledge him.
‘Could be drugs. Maybe he was a pimp. Are there pimps in Miami? It’s the first time I’ve ever been here. Got to admit, it hasn’t impressed me. I don’t think I’ll be coming back. I mean, it’s probably not going to affect their tourist industry much, what with me being dead and all,’ he went on, apparently oblivious to the fact that I was outright ignoring him. I checked the floor marker and bit back a sigh. Why did I have to stay in the biggest hotel on the East Coast, on the highest floor? I had nine floors to go and George was still burbling to himself. I snuck a look at my travelling buddies, wondering, like I always did, how they didn’t notice a lucy. He was right there! In their faces, waving his arms and talking loudly. At the very least, they should have felt a breeze or seen a glimmer. They should’ve noticed something off in the air.
But nobody ever did. And then, I’d always wonder if my dad, my therapists, and all my peers were right, and I was crazy. A tiny part of me was always questioning my sanity anyway. Apart from the lucy thing, I was totally normal. I hadn’t yet discovered a reason for this, if there was one. Maybe I’d glitched at birth. Maybe that’s why my momma ran away. Nothing to do with depression at all, just fear.
‘And that’s why I think Jorge is a zookeeper,’ George announced, bringing me out of my reverie.
‘A zookeeper?’ I parroted, baffled. The couple in the elevator jumped and stared at me.
‘Ha! I knew you weren’t listening,’ George cried, bursting into laughter.
I gritted my teeth. The two people were still staring.
‘I, um- whatever,’ I groaned, strolling through the doors that finally, magically opened. George trailed after me, somehow managing to stay upright as he laughed himself into oblivion. I refused to look at him after the betrayal, but I heard him laughing even harder.
‘They were so confused they didn’t even get off. They’ve gone back up,’ he snorted, crawling on the floor.
‘I hate you,’ I managed to hiss at him before reaching the lobby.
The receptionist found me a better room at no extra charge, and apologized profusely for the “unfortunate incident.” I smiled at her and took my new key, grumbling as I realized I had to go back up. Screw it, I’d take the stairs.
‘I’m sorry,’ George wheezed, sounding the opposite. ‘Really, I am. But that was so...’
So what? I never found out. He morphed into a donkey, braying on all fours. Great, now I was a zookeeper. My migraine was coming back. I was so sick of today.
‘Why don’t you do something useful?’ I ordered him. ‘Go back to my old room and find out who that guy is. I need to know if I should keep watching my back or not.’
Unable to reply, he headed back to the elevator. I doubted I’d see him any time soon.
At least I’d have some peace. I needed it after the eight flights of stairs.
Safely in a new room that wasn’t a catacomb, I ran myself a bath and put on some music. I predicted George wouldn’t be back for another half hour at least, so I perused the bath oils, enjoying my first real time alone-
‘Hey.’
Or not. He was standing in the doorway, looking deadly serious.
‘You’re kidding. It’s been five minutes-’
‘I know, I know. We have a problem.’
‘Another one? Don’t tell me, I’d rather not know.’
I picked chamomile and lavender. They were supposed to be relaxing, right? Just in case, I poured in the whole bottle.
‘I can’t even smell and I can smell that,’ he sniffed. ‘Look, I know who Jorge is. Or was, I should say.’
‘If that’s the problem, keep it to yourself.’
‘Annie, we got caught up in something big. He’s a-’
‘NOPE. Shut up, George,’ I shouted, hoping that trick would work. It hadn’t worked since I was five, though, and it failed me again.
‘Annie, he’s a cop.’