Code blue, p.9
Code Blue, page 9
When she got back to the hotel, she took a shower and called the front desk for a wake-up call at eleven. Even though she set her phone alarm, she wanted to be sure. She also called room service and asked how late they served. Midnight. Perfect. She placed an order to be delivered at eleven. She planned to get up, have a bite to eat, and leave the hotel just before two o’clock so she could meet up with Henry and Frida by two-thirty.
Now her current dilemma was what to wear. What’s appropriate for a stakeout at three in the morning? And what will the temperature be? She checked the weather app on her phone. Normally it got cool at night, but apparently not this week. A heat wave had hit Arizona. She’d need to wear something lightweight.
As Theresa was drying her hair, she was thankful she didn’t get that perm her sister tried to talk her into. Theresa thought back to an afternoon six months ago as they walked past a salon. At the time, Theresa’s hair was shoulder-length, medium brown, but she was ready for a change.
“Oh, you’d look cute with a perm!” Margaret blurted out with enthusiasm.
“I’m not looking for ‘cute.’ I want chic. Cool.”
“Aren’t you getting a bit old for cool?” Margaret, the fifty year old, goaded her.
“And cute is okay?” Theresa grimaced. “Let’s go inside and see what a professional recommends.”
When they entered the salon, a tall, soft-spoken Vietnamese gentleman greeted them. “Welcome to Victoria Salon. I am Leo. How can I help you?”
Theresa and Margaret were impressed by the calm nature of the place. The space was divided into sections depending on the service you wanted. Softly lit signs hung over different archways: The Color Bar, The Clip Joint, and Let’s ‘Do’ It. All the sinks and dryers were also in a separate room, called Wash & Dry, so that customers didn’t have the noise of a blow-dryer in their ears the entire time of the service.
Theresa explained that she wanted to update her look. “Not too short, definitely no perm.” When he asked about the color, Theresa took it as a hint that she should also consider something different. “Nothing too extreme,” she said, then added, “but I’ll listen to suggestions.”
He showed her a few swatches of dark blond. “Will this be easy to maintain?” she asked.
“It won’t be any more difficult than what you are doing now,” Leo responded. “And we offer a client appreciation program. Every fifth service is complementary.”
Now that was an offer she couldn’t refuse. But the biggest bonus was how she looked. The dark blond pageboy bob took ten years off her face and put a new spring in her step.
Tonight six months later she had to put some juice in her caboose. Frida looked quite fit. During lunch, she told Theresa how much she loved snowshoeing and would miss her frequent jaunts. Henry played tennis when the court wasn’t melting, or he’d engage in a short round of golf. Theresa wasn’t sure who was the fittest of the three of them. She chuckled; they had twenty years on her. It was going to be a litmus test for her physical fitness, stamina, persistence, and determination. She snickered at the irony. She was going to trespass and spy on a company in the middle of the night, with a couple she had just met the same day, all for someone she never knew. This should cure any sense of boredom.
Theresa recently retired as an executive director of human resources at a telecommunications company. She started out as an assistant in the installations division, scheduling new jobs. After a few years, she moved up to higher levels of management, and eventually was put in charge of the eastern region of the company. Theresa enjoyed the work, especially guiding new employees to help them flourish in their roles and succeed.
But over the last few years, something changed. It seemed like she was dealing with spoiled adolescents. There was a different sense of ambition and drive among the new batch of employees. The complaints employees filed ranged from someone “stealing yogurt” from the refrigerator in the break room to being allergic to the toilet paper in the bathrooms. So much of it was petty. Theresa grew tired of it. She was unmotivated and started to resent the time she had to spend in the office. And it started to affect her health. She was having trouble sleeping; her diet was terrible, as she tried to drown her unhappiness with sugar and a nightly glass of wine—or three; and she was too exhausted to exercise. Brian recognized that she was miserable and encouraged her to leave her job. He said they’d be fine without her salary, and that her well-being was more important than money. Theresa resisted at first, but when she finally agreed, it was as if a weight had been lifted off her chest. She decided it was time to step aside from her job and follow her bliss. The challenge was figuring out what her bliss was. That was when she decided to do something about the way she looked. Time for a refresh.
The new hairstyle and color propelled her forward. Then she joined a book club. Not a big leap, but a foray into meeting new people, reconnecting with friends. And now this adventure. Theresa was happy she took on the Aunt Dottie mission. She was doing something totally out of character, and slightly naughty. Or was it a felony?
When she finished drying her hair, she plopped on the bed and tried to fall asleep, but she was overstimulated. She knew she had to get some shut-eye. A couple of hours, at least. She started the same breathing technique she’d used earlier in her car. Her body began to relax, and she fell into a deep sleep.
She jolted upright when the phone alarm went off. She blinked several times, remembering where she was and what she was about to do. Next came a knock on her door announcing, “Room service!” Theresa shook the haze from her deep sleep, opened the door, and gladly made room for the trolley with a covered dish holding a juicy hamburger and crispy fries. Her rational mind told her it was okay to bulk up on fat and carbs, given the project ahead. If anything happened, at least she would die knowing her last meal was something she loved. After she signed the check, she noticed the indicator on her phone alerting her to a text message. It must have arrived while she was napping. It was from Lizzie.
Working on your project but info is scarce. Also have associates checking on them. Sit tight.
Theresa wondered if she should let Lizzie know about her plans to do some research on her own, with the help of her two new friends. She didn’t want to worry Lizzie; plus, it was two o’clock in the morning on the East Coast. She decided she would respond tomorrow.
Theresa splashed some water on her face to get rid of the remaining cobwebs in her head, then dove into the rare meat. She didn’t realize how hungry she was, but it had been ten hours since her last meal. She flicked on the TV to watch the local news. Nothing except more heat on the way. She stuck her head out of the sliding door that led to a small patio. It was still hot, but not sweltering. Once again, she faced the dilemma of what to wear. She decided on a pair of jeans and a lightweight long-sleeve shirt, in case crawling through bushes was required. She took another quick shower to thoroughly wake up, got dressed, and went to the lobby. The place was empty except for an older gentleman sitting at the concierge desk.
He greeted her with a smile. “Hello, miss. How can I help you?”
Theresa was happy he referred to her as miss instead of ma’am. She noticed his name tag. “Hello, Norman. Is it possible for someone to bring my car around?”
“Where you off to this late at night?” He grinned. “Just being nosy.”
“Meeting up with some friends,” Theresa said, and smiled back. “They’re night owls.”
“Ah. As am I.” He picked up the desk phone and made a call. “It will be a few minutes. Please take a seat.” He gestured to a mission-style club chair.
“Thank you, Norman.”
“My pleasure.”
Theresa tried to control her excitement. Or was it anxiety? She had a habit of tapping her foot when she had to wait for something. Everything. It wasn’t as if she were impatient. She simply had a lot of excess energy when she was stimulated. The tapping of her foot caused an echo in the empty lobby. “Oops. Sorry.” She sheepishly grinned at Norman.
“No worries, miss. He should be here shortly.”
The lights of an SUV shone into the lobby as it rounded the porte cochere. Theresa bounced to her feet, said good night to Norman, and dashed out the door. She didn’t know why she was in such a hurry. She had well over an hour to reach her destination. Nervous energy, she supposed.
The temperature in the car was bearable. She wondered if she should punch the address into the GPS. Would it make a difference if she did? Wouldn’t the rental company have some kind of tracker on the car? She realized she was beginning to think like a criminal, then chuckled.
It took less than fifteen minutes to drive to the convenience store. She parked on the side of the building, checking for security cameras. She knew what she was about to do was illegal. Just how illegal would be determined if she got arrested. She could always use her head injury as an excuse. She didn’t know where she was. She got confused. Turned around. She didn’t remember driving here. Theresa was satisfied with her excuses, should she need one.
She exited the car, stayed in the shadows of the parking lot, and walked along the road until she was past the main entrance to Sunnydale and perpendicular to the cypress. She checked both directions before she crossed the road and then stayed close to the vegetation. There were a few cars and people going in and out of the mini-clinic, so her presence wasn’t unusual. No one noticed the woman inching her way down the narrow road. When she arrived at the unattended security gate, she stepped off the street and into the bushes. She could hear whispering and leaves rustling. She recognized Henry’s voice and let out a “Psst. Over here.” There was more rustling and the sound of soft footsteps moving in her direction. She could hear Frida stifling a giggle.
“Hello, midnight marauder.” Henry placed his hand on Theresa’s shoulder. “Glad you could make it.”
“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss this.” Theresa felt compelled to hug both of them. It seemed like a natural thing to do.
Henry placed his finger on his lips and nodded. “Follow me.” They crossed the road and entered a deep patch of trees and overgrowth that separated the long-term care building from the rest of the complex. It was close to pitch dark. They didn’t dare use a flashlight for fear of being seen, but Henry said he was once an Eagle Scout and moved easily through the brush, guiding his fellow skulkers.
They made their way to the farthest side of the building, where there were more woods, and a narrow service road that ended, or began, at the rear. Where it led was still in question, because it did not come around to the front and was not connected to the main driveway. A secret access to the facility? But why?
In the distance were lights from a dark vehicle as it made its way down the mysterious access. Henry nudged both women. “There. See?”
They watched as the black, oversized station wagon backed up to one of the doors of the building. They crouched down and craned their necks to get a better look as a man exited the vehicle. Someone came outside to meet him. It was a woman. A very brawny woman. Someone who Theresa immediately recognized.
The trio was too far away to hear what was being said; then the woman went back inside. A few minutes later, a gurney emerged from the building carrying a long black bag the size of a human.
Frida tapped Henry on the shoulder. “Is that what I think it is?”
“Depends. If you think it’s a body bag, you are correct.”
Frida’s hand flew to her mouth. “Uff da!” she let out in a loud whisper.
The driver and the woman stopped abruptly and turned in their direction, and the three renegades stepped back farther into the brush. Obviously convinced the noise was just a nocturnal animal, the woman and driver finished the task at hand. Once they hoisted the package into the vehicle, the man got back into the driver’s seat, and the woman disappeared into the building.
Henry, Frida, and Theresa remained motionless until they could no longer see the taillights of the vehicle and were convinced the coast was clear. They quietly but hastily made their way back to the road and crossed over to the cypress hedges. None of them said a word until they were sure they could go unnoticed.
Theresa finally let out the air that she could swear she had been holding for the past fifteen minutes. “That was Nurse Ratched. I mean Janet Turner. The head whatever. Warden?”
“Are you sure?” Frida asked nervously. She was a little rattled by the experience. She had no idea what she was getting herself into. Now she knew, and no longer doubted Henry’s accounting of lights. She was certain it was not swamp gas.
“Oh, yeah, I’m sure. Unless there are two women who look and move like that, I am certain.”
Henry checked his watch. It was getting close to four. “Shall we have a nightcap at my place?”
“Sounds like an excellent idea,” Frida said. “You do have some sherry, I hope.”
“You’re going to have to settle for brandy,” Henry informed her.
“That’s fine.” Frida was also breathing heavily. “That was something.”
“Yes. But what kind of something?” Theresa asked.
“Come on. Let’s get ourselves inside.” Henry led the way to his duplex.
It was a very neat one bedroom with a small den, and a kitchen that opened to the dining and living area. “Welcome. Please make yourselves comfortable.” Henry poured each of them two fingers’ worth of brandy.
“I feel like I’m in a movie,” Frida exclaimed. Her hands were shaking as she took the snifter from Henry.
“Yeah. A horror movie.” Theresa crinkled her face. “Thanks,” she said as Henry handed her a glass. “What do you suppose they’re up to?” she mused.
“Do you think they transfer the dearly departed only at night?” Frida asked innocently.
“They have a service road in the back. If their objective is to do it privately, it doesn’t matter what time of day it is, since that road isn’t accessible from the rest of the complex,” Theresa postulated. Then, turning to Henry, she said, “How did you come to see the lights?”
“I was at the far end of the property, walking the perimeter, and saw the lights of an oncoming vehicle through the trees, but then the lights vanished.”
Theresa was wrapping her head around the layout. She snapped her fingers. “The vehicle turns to the opposite side of the building. It makes sense why the lights disappear.”
“At least now you know I’m not crazy.” Henry held up his glass. “Cheers!”
“Cheers! But the jury is still out about your mental state.” Frida chuckled. “What do we do next?”
Theresa came clean about having someone look into the financials of the company and whether there had been any complaints lodged against them. “I’m waiting to hear back. If anyone can figure out what these people are up to, it’s my friend.” Theresa didn’t want to reveal Lizzie’s identity. At least, not yet. The first thing she had to figure out was how to explain her newly found information to Lizzie. She hadn’t exactly been “sitting tight.”
“Do you think she’ll find out anything?” Frida asked innocently.
“As I said, if there is anything to find, she will find it.”
“Oh, gee, I hope so.” Frida turned to Henry. “What do you suppose is going on there? Do you have a theory?”
“Without overstating the obvious, they are moving something that resembles a human body.”
“Concealed. In a black bag,” Theresa added.
“Correct,” Henry said. “I think the next thing we need to do is find out where they are taking the parcels.”
“That would be tricky and dangerous.” Theresa was now pacing the floor. “Let’s hold on until I get more information. I wouldn’t want any of us to be on a wild-goose chase or more importantly, get hurt.” Theresa didn’t want to dig the conspiracy hole deeper, but she surmised her accident was no accident. She pointed to the bruise under her eye. “This mishap occurred at a very opportune time.”
Frida pursed her lips. “You think they could be connected?”
Henry spoke next. “I agree with Theresa. We should wait until we get more information.”
“But what do ya suppose they’re doin’ in there?” Frida’s eyes went wide.
“We shouldn’t speculate,” Henry reminded them. “But, if this were a movie, I’d be slinking down in my seat.”
Theresa chuckled. “We are the characters in the movie. You know, big creepy house, and they hear a noise in the basement. Then the blonde decides to see what it is and starts down the stairs. Without a flashlight.”
Henry laughed. “Except we are outside. In the woods, in the middle of the night, with coyotes, a hearse, and a nasty nurse.”
Frida cackled, “Oh, Henry. You make it sound like Dr. Seuss meets Stephen King!” Then a horrifying thought occurred to her. “Oh, geez. You don’t think they’re selling body parts now, do ya?”
“Wow, Frida, you can go very dark,” Theresa said.
“Oh for …” Frida clicked her tongue.
“No offense.” Theresa wasn’t sure if she had offended her new friend.
“None taken. I grew up close to Fargo”—she winked—“don’tcha know?”
“Talk about dark,” Henry entered the conversation. “That movie was very dark. Darkly funny.”
“Gallows humor,” Theresa said, and took another sip.
“Yes. Making fun of something that could be considered taboo, or an extremely uncomfortable subject,” Henry explained.
“I suppose I have a dark streak, then.” Frida chortled.
Theresa raised her hand. “Guilty.”
“It’s unanimous.” Henry lifted his glass again. “Cheers!”
“I do wonder, who was on that gurney,” Henry mused. “I’ll keep an ear out for any chatter among the staff in the café. They’re usually the first to hear about such things.”
